H. Bedford-Jones

“ He could realize how this quick-witted and desperate girl had seized one slim hope of escaping the harem, how she had worked upon the besotted and superstitious Hassan Bey until he feared her more than he desired her.
“By Heavens, what a woman!” thought Spence.
He turned as the Moor came toward him.
“Well, señor, what think you of the bride I promised?”
“I do not steal brides, Mulai Ali. I help her, because she is a woman. I desire no wife, however.”
“You might do worse,” said the other. “I have arranged with that eunuch, her sole guard. ”

“ The Moor smiled.
“He would rather be chief eunuch of a Sultan’s harem than a slave in Arzew.”
Spence studied the Moor.
“You seem confident, my friend! Yet you have no army. Ripperda’s assassins are seeking you—”
“Allah rules all things; who would dispute the ways of God? If a thing is ordained, it will come to pass.
“Besides,” added Mulai Ali dryly, “I am not without friends. Do you fear to accompany me, who go alone to seek a throne?”
“Fear?” Spence laughed, and put out his hand. “Luck be with you, and my aid!”
“Good. You and the astrologer must leave here to-night and ride ahead. ”

“ He was once a Janissary; he is now one of Ripperda’s bodyguard of renegades. We shall probably find him ahead of us on the road.”
“H-m! You seem little concerned,” said Spence with a shrewd glance.
“The event is in the hands of God, the compassionate! I saw the astrologer last night, and go this morning to receive my horoscope.”
“Good! This astrologer is a slave, eh? An old man? And English?”
Mulai Ali smiled in a singular fashion.
“Yes, captured by Hassan from an English ship, and kept here secretly. Hassan is afraid of the astrologer, yet refuses to sell the slave to me. ”