of his enterprise. To beguile himself of his nervousness in the night,
during the dark hours that trailed on to morning, he would venture out
of the lodging where he lay in hiding throughout the day, and pick
his steps in the silence up the winding streets, until he came under a
narrow opening in an alley which was the only window to Naomi's prison.
And there he would stay the long dark hours through, as if he thought
that besides the comfort it brought to him to be near to Naomi, the
tramp, tramp, tramp of his footsteps, which once or twice provoked the
challenge of the night-guard on his lonely round, would be company to
her in her solitude. And sometimes, watching his opportunity that he
might be unseen and unheard, he would creep in the darkness under the
window and cry up the wall in an underbreath, "Naomi! Naomi! It is I,
Ali! I have come back! All will be well yet!"

Then if he heard nothing from within he would torture himself with
a hundred fears lest Naomi should be no longer there, but in a worse
place; and if he heard a sob he would slink away like a dog with his
muzzle to the dust, and if he heard his own name echoed in the softer
voice he knew so well he would go off with head erect, feeling like a
man who walked on the stars rather than the stones of the street. But,
whatever befell, before the day dawned he went back to his lodging less
sore at heart for his lonely vigil, but not less wrathful or resolute.

The day of the feast came at length, and then Ali's impatience rose
to fever. All day he longed for the night, that the thing he had to do
could be done. At last the sunset came and the darkness fell, and from
his place of concealment Ali saw the soldiers of the assaseen going
through the streets with lanterns to lead honoured guests to the
banquet. Then he set out on his errand. His foresight and wit had
arranged everything. The negro at the gate of the Kasbah pretended to