name is Lacey--Thomas Tilman Lacey of Chicago."

"I thank thee," said David.

"And you, sir?"

"David Claridge."

"Of--?"

"Of Hamley."

"Mr. Claridge of Hamley. Mr. Claridge, I am glad to meet you." They
shook hands. "Been here long, Mr. Claridge?"

"A few months only."

"Queer place--gilt-edged dust-bin; get anything you like here, from a
fresh gutter-snipe to old Haroun-al-Raschid. It's the biggest jack-pot
on earth. Barnum's the man for this place--P. T. Barnum. Golly, how the
whole thing glitters and stews! Out of Shoobra his High Jinks Pasha
kennels with his lions and lives with his cellars of gold, as if he was
going to take them with him where he's going--and he's going fast. Here
--down here, the people, the real people, sweat and drudge between a cake
of dourha, an onion, and a balass of water at one end of the day, and a
hemp collar and their feet off the ground at the other."

"You have seen much of Egypt?" asked David, feeling a strange confidence
in the garrulous man, whose frankness was united to shrewdness and a
quick, observant eye.