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Updated: June 4, 2025
Al Jezira, as the natives call their capital, is undoubtedly the most interesting city for a traveler's eyes, exceeding even Constantinople and Cairo. Part of the city is modern, the rest just as it might have been a century ago, when the Algerian pirates made a reign of terror sweep over the Mediterranean. Omnibuses are seen, and even street-cars run to Birkadeen, a suburb.
The Arab looks at the paper stolidly; it might as well be Sanscrit to him. "Read it, monsieur." So John complies, and his guide takes in all that is said. He nods his head to show that he understands. "This time I, too, will change my appearance, and they will not know that it is Mustapha Cadi who walks through the lanes of old Al Jezira with an unbeliever at his side."
"Of course." "You must take me to him to-night." Mustapha Cadi looks a little anxious. "Does this illustrious person live in new or old Al Jezira?" "I cannot say, it is for you to tell." "His name?" "Ben Taleb." The Arab shrugs his shoulders, a French trick that follows their conquests, and is so very suggestive. "The Moorish doctor; he lives in the heart of the old town."
You yourself told me it was no little thing to enter old Al Jezira in the night. Those narrow lanes, with strange figures here and there, eying one fiercely; the houses that threaten to topple over on one's head; all these things make it a risky place to wander in even during the daytime. After dark it must be awful."
"Begar! it ees better zan one play," mutters the French agent. "So I made the miserable driver confess that he had entered into an arrangement with one of the robbers to upset us between Birkadeen and Al Jezira, so that they could make the capture." "The villain! he deserved hanging. I hope you executed Arab justice on him then and there." Mustapha shakes his head. "Monsieur forgets.
"Now, monsieur will allow me," says his tall guide, leading him into a dark corner. There is some little difficulty experienced, but in the end John turns Arab. "Say not one word if saluted, I will reply," is the last caution he receives. Then they move on. Now their road ascends. They are in Al Jezira, the old Arab town.
"I recognized them as rival couriers. If they saw me they would glance sharply at my companion. Perhaps for much duros they have some time taken a Frank through Al Jezira at night. That would not count. If they believed I did the same thing they would spread the news abroad, and I am afraid we would have trouble.
It was his intention to go to Al Jezira, to seek the French commandant at the barracks known as the Kasbah, and give him the information concerning Bab Azoun.
We have been attacked by robbers in the desert, but we dispersed them with gun and yataghan. Here in Al Jezira, many times, beggars for backsheesh have become impudent, and tried to enforce their demands, but I have taken them before the cadi, and had them punished with the bastinado. Ah! they know Mustapha Cadi, the guide, and give him a wide berth by daylight.
In a moment Mustapha is at his side, and what he whispers is not pleasant news: "Monsieur must be careful. The news has gone abroad that he it was who invaded Al Jezira on this night. Some one has spread the report that he is a spy, that his mission is to discover the details of the plot that is always going on among my people, for the rescue of Algiers from French hands.
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