“Come, come, remember your philosophy.”
“But she was with another—a dashing young chap with the strut of a huzzar. I shall have to reduce him to the humble gait of a cork leg. Her glance was freezing. I am still like a cake of ice.”
“Perhaps she saw you had company—that it was jealousy influenced her.”
“Aleck, bless you, my dear boy. I take heart, I breathe again.”
Craig turns his attention to the woman who sits opposite, next the actor. The vehicle is making good progress, but it will be a wearisome journey to the North side.
“Before we reach this young lady’s home, madam, it is but fair that you and I should have some sort of explanation. You were supposed to be her protector; you betrayed your trust. I know all: your alliance with Aroun Scutari, and everything that followed. You must quit her service to-morrow, for I mean to expose you.”
“I shall do as you say, sir. There is no need of explanations on my part. You would denounce my story as a fabrication; but I had cause, I had cause. What do you wish me to do to-night?”
“Assist in getting the young lady under her father’s roof, from which she should never have ventured on any such Quixotic errand.”
“You blame me for it, I know; but it was her own idea—she planned it all, and what followed the pasha took advantage of,” she insists.
It is on the tip of his tongue to ask about the young miner, but he suddenly shuts his teeth together and changes his mind. Aleck Craig has a fine sense of honor.