"If it is not too late, let us have in a few friends to celebrate the successful outcome of our third encounter with Arabs striving to injure us," said Ducardanoy.
"It is not too late," said Bouchardy, reaching for his watch. A look of surprise swept over his face. The watch was not there. And his trousers pocket was empty of the purse it contained a few hours before, and a diamond stud was gone from his shirt front, and as for the emerald and chain, which he now scrutinized in attempting to console himself, both were cheap imitations worth only a few sous at most. Gone was Ducardanoy's watch, too, and a roll of bank-notes, and a gold match-safe. They ran into the hallway for their hats to start in pursuit of Ben Mesrour. Gone were their hats. Gone were the rugs from the floor, the divans, the pictures, the ormulu clock, the onyx tables, the silver and china ware, the books—everything in the house that was easily movable. They rushed into the streets, and in a moment were seeking Ben Mesrour with a squad of soldiers. Ali Ben Mesrour? His caravan had left the town two hours ago, on the way to Morocco. But Ben Mesrour himself had not gone an hour ago, Ducardanoy and Bouchardy declared. The people knew naught of that. The magician's caravan had gone, and the people thought he had gone with it. Away went the pursuing party, riding out on the road toward Morocco, and in a short time they overtook a man riding upon a mule, accompanied by a closely veiled woman riding upon a camel.
"There he is," cried Ducardanoy. "That woman is Ben Mesrour disguised. Drag him down."
"Hold," said the French sergeant, glancing around at his troopers, all native Algerians. "Do you propose to strip the veil from the face of a woman?" he continued, in a whisper. "Such an outrage of Mohammedan customs would cause these men to fall on us at once, and the town would rise to-night. We must let them proceed without interference."
Reluctantly Ducardanoy and Bouchardy turned back toward town with the soldiers. The man on the mule shouted something after them in Arabic.
"What did he say?" asked Bouchardy.
"He said," replied the soldier, "that he and his wife were riding on a mule and a camel presented to him by the magician Ali Ben Mesrour, which same were formerly the Messieurs Ducardanoy and Bouchardy, transformed into their present shape by his magic arts."
"That is not true," said Bouchardy, "for the magician Ali Ben Mesrour made mules of both of them."