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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks, by
+Bracebridge Hemyng
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks
+       Book Number Fifteen in the Jack Harkaway Series
+
+Author: Bracebridge Hemyng
+
+Release Date: January 9, 2007 [EBook #20320]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK HARKAWAY'S BOY TINKER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [Illustration: "'HEAVEN ABOVE!' EJACULATED JACK; 'WHY IT'S MR. MOLE.'"
+
+  JACK HARKAWAY AND HIS BOY TINKER. VOL. II.--_Frontispiece_]
+
+
+
+                           JACK HARKAWAY'S
+                      BOY TINKER AMONG THE TURKS
+
+                       BEING THE CONCLUSION OF
+      THE "ADVENTURES OF YOUNG JACK HARKAWAY AND HIS BOY TINKER"
+
+
+                                  BY
+                          BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG
+
+
+                          BOOK NUMBER FIFTEEN
+
+                               CHICAGO
+                       M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+                      Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker
+                           AMONG THE TURKS.
+
+
+
+
+JACK GETS INTO HOT WATER--A MORAL LESSON, AND HOW HE PROFITED BY
+IT--ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
+
+
+The matter was not ended here, however.
+
+When they got on board, there was a very serious reception awaiting
+them.
+
+Their project had been discovered and betrayed to the skipper by some
+officious noodle, and Captain Willis was not a little alarmed.
+
+The consequences might be very serious.
+
+So the captain had Jack and Harry Girdwood up, and gave them a word or
+two of a sort.
+
+"We wish to preserve the most friendly relations with the people here,
+Mr. Harkaway," said he, severely; "and this sort of adventure is not
+calculated to achieve our object."
+
+Jack did not attempt to deny what had occurred.
+
+"We have done no harm," he said; "we were simply cruising about when we
+saw murder done. We arrived too late to prevent it, but Tinker was
+pleased to take it upon himself to avenge the murdered woman, for a
+woman it was, as we could tell from her shrieks as the sack went under
+and stifled them for ever."
+
+The captain was somewhat startled at this.
+
+"Is this true?"
+
+"I would have you know, captain, that I am not in the habit of saying
+what is not true."
+
+The captain bowed stiffly at young Jack's rebuke.
+
+"I don't wish to imply anything else," he said; "but before you get too
+high up in the stirrups, young gentleman, remember that I command here.
+Remember that in your own thirst for excitement, you act in a way
+likely to compromise me as well as everybody on board. You are not
+wanting in a proper appreciation of right and wrong. Before you add
+anything worse to the present discussion, reflect. The injured air
+which you are pleased to assume is out of place. I leave you to your
+own reflections, young gentleman."
+
+And so saying, the captain turned away and left him.
+
+Jack's first impulse was to walk after the captain, and fire a parting
+shot.
+
+But Harry Girdwood's hand arrested him.
+
+"Don't be foolish, Jack," said he.
+
+"Let go, I----"
+
+"Don't be foolish, I say, Jack," persisted Harry Girdwood. "Do you know
+what you are saying?"
+
+"Are you siding against me?" exclaimed Jack.
+
+"In a general sense I am not against you, but I can't approve of your
+replies. You had no right to retort, and I shouldn't be a true pal,
+Jack, if I spoke to your face against my convictions."
+
+Jack sulked for a little time.
+
+And then he did as the captain had advised.
+
+He reflected.
+
+He was very soon led back to the correct train of thought, and being a
+lad of high moral courage, as well as physically brave, he was not
+afraid to acknowledge when he was in the wrong.
+
+Harry Girdwood walked a little way off.
+
+Young Jack--dare-devil Jack--coloured up as he walked to Harry and held
+out his hand.
+
+"Tip us your fin, messmate," he said, with forced gaiety. "You are
+right, I was wrong, of course."
+
+He turned off.
+
+"Where are you going?" demanded Harry.
+
+"To the captain."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To apologise for being insolent."
+
+Off he went.
+
+"Captain Willis."
+
+"Do you want me, Mr. Harkaway?" asked the captain.
+
+"The chief mate was standing by, and Jack did not feel that he had so
+far offended as to have to expiate his fault in public.
+
+"When you are disengaged, Captain Willis, I would beg the favour of
+half a word with you."
+
+"Is it urgent, Mr. Harkaway?" he asked.
+
+"I have been refractory, Captain Willis."
+
+A faint smile stole over the captain's face in spite of his endeavour
+to repress it.
+
+"I will see you below presently," he said to the mate. "Come down to me
+in a quarter of an hour or so."
+
+"Yes, sir," said the mate.
+
+"Now, Mr. Harkaway, I'm at your service," said Captain Willis, walking
+forward.
+
+Jack grew rather red in the face at this.
+
+Then he made a plunge, and blurted it all out.
+
+"I have been an idiot, Captain Willis, and I want you to know that I
+thoroughly appreciate your fairness and high sense of justice."
+
+"Now you are flattering me, Mr. Harkaway," said the captain.
+
+"Captain Willis," said impetuous Jack, "if you call me Mr. Harkaway, I
+shall think that you are stiff-backed and bear malice."
+
+"What a wild fellow you are," said the captain. "Why, what on earth
+shall I call you?"
+
+"Jack, sir," returned our hero. "John on Sunday and holidays, if you
+prefer it, just as a proof that you don't bear any ill feeling to a
+madman, who has the good luck to have a lucid interval, and to
+apologise heartily as I do now."
+
+The captain held out his hand.
+
+Jack dropped his into it with a spank, and grasped it warmly.
+
+"Don't say any more on this subject, Mr.--I mean, Jack," said the
+captain, smiling, "or you will make me quite uncomfortable."
+
+And so the matter ended.
+
+Jack could not be dull for long together.
+
+He plucked up his old vivacity, and went off to Mr. Figgins' cabin.
+
+"I must go and give the orphan a turn," said he.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+TURKISH CUSTOMS--JACK GIVES THE ORPHAN A NOTION OF WHAT HE MAY
+EXPECT--MATRIMONIAL WEAKNESSES--PASHA BLUEBEARD--THE SORT OF A MAN HE
+IS--HIS EXCELLENCY'S VISIT--MR. FIGGINS IS SPECIALLY INVITED--HOPES
+AND FEARS.
+
+
+Jack found Mr. Figgins in his cabin, squatting on a cushion
+cross-legged.
+
+Tinker and Bogey were attending upon him.
+
+Since their desperate dive into the sea, and the adventure with the
+shark, the two darkeys and the orphan had become fast friends.
+
+"Hullo, Mr. Figgins," said Jack, in surprise, "what's going forward
+now?"
+
+"Only practising Turkish manners and customs," returned Mr. Figgins,
+quite seriously. "I mean to go ashore to-morrow, and make some
+acquaintances; I shouldn't like to appear quite strange when I got
+ashore. When in Rome----"
+
+"You must do as the Romans do," added young Jack.
+
+"Yes; and when in Turkey," said the orphan, "you must----"
+
+"Do as the Turkeys do," concluded Jack.
+
+"Precisely," added the orphan. "That's it."
+
+"You are practising to smoke the long hookah to begin with."
+
+"Yes--no--it's a chibouk," said Mr. Figgins. "That is all you have to
+know, I believe, to make yourself thoroughly well received in Turkish
+polite society."
+
+"Every thing," responded Jack, "with a hook--ah."
+
+"I didn't feel very comfortable over it at first," said the orphan,
+"but I'm getting on now."
+
+"There's one danger you are exposed to on going ashore."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"Any gentleman having the slightest pretensions to good looks is nearly
+always obliged to get married a few times."
+
+Mr. Figgins stared aghast at this.
+
+"A few times?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But I'm an orphan."
+
+"No matter; it's a fact, sir, I assure you," said Jack, gravely.
+
+Mr. Figgins looked exceedingly alarmed.
+
+"If I could believe that there was any thing more in that than your
+joking, Mr. Jack, I should be precious uncomfortable."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because my experience of matrimony has been any thing but pleasant
+already," responded the orphan.
+
+"You have been married, then?" said Jack, in surprise.
+
+"Once."
+
+"Very moderate that, sir," said Jack. "You are a widower, I suppose,
+then?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"You are not sure?"
+
+"Not quite."
+
+"Ah, well, then, it won't be so bad for you as it might."
+
+"What won't?"
+
+"Marriage."
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jack," exclaimed the orphan; "my experience of
+the happy state was any thing but agreeable with one wife. Goodness
+knows how long I should survive if I had, as you say, several wives."
+
+"Don't worry yourself, Mr. Figgins," said Jack, "but it is just as well
+to be prepared."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"An emergency. You don't know what might happen to you in this
+country."
+
+Mr. Figgins looked really very anxious at this.
+
+"I don't well see how they can marry a man."
+
+"That's not the question, Mr. Figgins. You could refuse. It would cost
+you your life for a certainty."
+
+The orphan nearly rolled off his cushion.
+
+"What!"
+
+"Fact, I assure you," said Jack, gravely.
+
+"Explain."
+
+"You will be expected to pay a visit of state to the pasha."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That is the greatest honour on landing for a stranger."
+
+"What is a pasha?"
+
+"The governor of the province, a regular Bung."
+
+"Well."
+
+"Bluebeard was a pasha, you remember."
+
+"No, no," interrupted the orphan, delighted to show his historical
+accuracy. "Bluebeard was a bashaw."
+
+"It is the same thing, another way of writing or pronouncing the
+identical same dignity or rank. Well, you know that polygamy is the pet
+vice of the followers of Islam."
+
+"Oh, it's dreadful, Jack."
+
+"The greater the man, the greater the polygamist. A pasha has as many
+wives as he can keep, and more too. The pasha of this province is not
+rich for his rank, and for his matrimonial proclivities."
+
+"Lor'!"
+
+"How many wives should you suppose he has?" asked Jack, with an air of
+deep gravity.
+
+"Don't know," replied the orphan, quietly.
+
+"Ninety-eight living."
+
+Mr. Figgins jumped up and dropped his chibouk.
+
+"Never."
+
+"A fact," asserted Jack, with gravity.
+
+"Why, the man must be a regular Bluebeard."
+
+"You've hit it, sir," responded Jack; "that's the sort of man he is."
+
+"Well, that is all very well for the Turks and for these old sinners
+the pashas, but I am an Englishman."
+
+"This is the way it will most likely be done," continued Jack. "On your
+presentation to his excellency the pasha, you are expected to make some
+present. The pasha makes a return visit of ceremony, and leaves behind
+him some solid evidence of his liberality."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, but the very highest compliment that a pasha can pay you is to
+leave you one of his wives. He generally makes it an old stock-keeper,
+something that has been a good thirty years or so in the seraglio."
+
+Mr. Figgins took the liveliest interest in this narrative.
+
+He was growing rapidly convinced of the truth of Jack's descriptions of
+these singular manners and customs of the country in which they were.
+
+Yet he eyed Jack as one who has a lingering doubt.
+
+"Ahem!" said Mr. Figgins, "I don't think that I shall join you on your
+visit ashore in the morning."
+
+"We'll see in the morning," said Jack; "it's a pity to put off your
+trip for the sake of such a trifling danger as that of having a wife or
+so given to you."
+
+"It's no use," said Mr. Figgins, "my mind is fully made up; I shall not
+visit the pasha."
+
+"It will be taken as a grave insult to go ashore without paying your
+respects to his excellency."
+
+"I can't help that," returned the orphan, resolutely; "I won't visit
+him."
+
+"Mr. Figgins," said Jack, in a voice of deep solemnity, "these Turks
+are cruel, vindictive, and revengeful. The last Englishman who refused
+was, by order of the pasha, skinned alive, placed on the sunny side of
+a wall, and blown to death by flies."
+
+"Surely the Turks are not such barbarians," said Mr. Figgins.
+
+"You'll find they are. They'd think no more of polishing you off than
+of killing a fly."
+
+If that rascal Jack intended to make poor Mr. Figgins uneasy, he
+certainly succeeded very well.
+
+Mr. Figgins looked supremely miserable.
+
+"Good night, Mr. Figgins. Think it over."
+
+"I tell you I----"
+
+"Never mind, don't decide too rashly. Pleasant dreams."
+
+"Pleasant dreams," said the orphan. "I shall have the nightmare."
+
+The orphan's pillow was haunted that night by visions of a terrible
+nature.
+
+He fancied himself in the presence of a turbaned Turk, a powerful
+pasha, who was sitting cross-legged on an ottoman, smoking a pipe, of
+endless length, and holding in his hand a drawn sword--a scimitar that
+looked ready to chop his head off.
+
+Beside this terrible Turk stood five ladies, in baggy trousers, and
+long veils.
+
+No words were spoken, but instinctively the orphan knew that he had to
+decide between the scimitar and the quintet of wives--wall-flowers of
+the pasha's harem.
+
+Silently, in mute horror, the orphan was about to submit to the least
+of the two evils, and choose a wife.
+
+Then he awoke suddenly.
+
+What an immense relief it was to find it only a dream after all.
+
+"I don't quite believe that young Harkaway," said the orphan,
+dubiously; "he is such a dreadful practical joker. But I won't go on
+shore, nevertheless. It's not very interesting to see these savages,
+after all; they really are nothing more than savages."
+
+And after a long and tedious time spent in endeavouring to get to sleep
+again, he dropped off.
+
+But only to dream again about getting very much married.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+He slept far into the morning, for his dreams had disturbed him much,
+and he was tired out.
+
+When he awoke, there was someone knocking at his cabin door.
+
+"Come in."
+
+"It's only me, Mr. Figgins," said a familiar voice.
+
+"Come in, captain."
+
+Captain Deering entered.
+
+"Not up yet, Mr. Figgins?" he said, in surprise. "We've got visitors
+aboard already."
+
+"Dear me."
+
+"Distinguished visitors. The pasha and his suite."
+
+"You don't say so?" exclaimed the orphan, sitting up.
+
+"Fact, sir," returned the captain. "It must be ten years since I last
+had the honour of an interview with his excellency."
+
+"You know him, then, Captain Deering?"
+
+"Rather. Been here often. Know every inch of the country," said the
+captain.
+
+"What sort of a man is the pasha?" said the orphan, thinking of Jack's
+statement.
+
+"Oh, a decent fellow enough, unless he's riled," was the reply.
+
+"Do you speak the language?" said the orphan.
+
+"Like a native."
+
+"Is he as much married as they say?" demanded Mr. Figgins.
+
+The captain smiled.
+
+"His excellency has a weakness that way; but," he added, in a warning
+voice, "you must not make any allusion to that."
+
+"I won't see him," said Mr. Figgins. "I don't intend to visit him."
+
+"But I have come to fetch you to pay your respects."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Here, on board, in the state saloon."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Make haste, Mr. Figgins," interrupted Captain Deering. "It is no joke
+to make a pasha wait. Look alive. I'll come and fetch you in five
+minutes. Up you get."
+
+And then Captain Deering departed.
+
+Mr. Figgins was sorely perplexed now.
+
+But he arose and began to dress himself as quickly as possible.
+
+"After all," he said to himself, "it is just as well. I should
+certainly like to see the pasha, and this is a bit of luck, for there's
+no danger here at any rate, if what that young Harkaway said was true."
+
+He went to the cabin door and shouted out for Tinker.
+
+"Tinker!"
+
+"He's engaged," answered Captain Deering, who was close by.
+
+"I want him."
+
+"He's away, attending his excellency in the saloon," returned Captain
+Deering.
+
+"Bogey then."
+
+"Bogey's there too."
+
+"Never mind."
+
+"Are you nearly ready?"
+
+"Yes"
+
+"Look sharp. I wouldn't have his excellency put out of temper for the
+world; it would be sure to result in the bowstringing of a few of his
+poor devils of slaves when he got ashore again, and you wouldn't care
+to have that on your conscience."
+
+Mr. Figgins very hurriedly completed his toilet.
+
+"What a fiend this wretched old bigamist must be," he said to himself.
+"I'm precious glad that young Harkaway warned me, after all. I might
+have got into some trouble if I had gone ashore without knowing this."
+
+"Stop," said the captain. "Have you any thing to take his excellency as
+a present?"
+
+This made the orphan feel somewhat nervous.
+
+It tended to confirm what young Jack had said.
+
+"It is, then, the custom to make presents?" he said.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What shall I give?"
+
+"Any thing. That's a very nice watch you wear."
+
+"Must I give that?"
+
+"Yes. His excellency is sure to present you with a much richer
+one--that's Turkish etiquette."
+
+This again corroborated Jack's words.
+
+Yet it was a far more pleasant way of putting it than Jack had thought
+fit to do.
+
+Mr. Figgins only objected to a present of wives.
+
+Any thing rich in the way of jewellery was quite another matter.
+
+"On entering the presence, you have only to prostrate yourself three
+times; the third time you work it so that you just touch his
+excellency's toe with your lips."
+
+"I hope his excellency's boots will be clean."
+
+"His excellency would not insult you by letting you kiss his boot. No
+boot or stocking does he wear."
+
+Mr. Figgins made an awfully wry face at this.
+
+"Ugh! I don't like the idea of kissing a naked toe."
+
+"You'll soon get used to it," said the captain, cheerfully, "when
+you've kissed as many pashas' toes as I have. Hold your tongue--here we
+are."
+
+He pushed open the saloon door and ushered Mr. Figgins into the
+presence of his excellency.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+MORE ABOUT CHIVEY AND HIS MASTER--THE FATAL PIT--IS IT THE END?--ARTFUL
+CHIVEY AND THE ARTFULLER NOTARY--DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND--HOW THE TIGER
+PREPARED TO SPRING--HERBERT MURRAY IN DANGER.
+
+
+Before we proceed to describe the orphan's presentation to that arch
+polygamist, the Turkish pasha, and the remarkable result of that
+interview, we must look around and see if we are not neglecting any of
+the characters whose eventful careers we have undertaken to chronicle.
+
+We are losing sight of one at least, who has a very decided claim upon
+our attention.
+
+This person is none other than Herbert Murray.
+
+The reader will not have forgotten under what circumstances we parted
+company with this unscrupulous son of an unscrupulous father.
+
+Goaded to desperation by his villainous servant, Herbert Murray turned
+upon the traitor and hurled him down the gravel pit.
+
+Then the assassin walked away from the scene.
+
+But ere he had got far, his steps were arrested by the sound of a
+groan.
+
+A groan that came from the gravel pit.
+
+"Was it my fancy?"
+
+No.
+
+Surely not.
+
+There it was again.
+
+A low moan--a wail of anguish.
+
+Back he went, muttering to himself--
+
+"Not dead?"
+
+He went round nearly to the bottom of the pit, and peered over.
+
+There was Chivey leaning upon his elbow groaning with the severity of
+his bruises, and the dreadful shock he had received.
+
+"You've done for me, now," he moaned, as he caught sight of his master.
+
+"No; but I shall," retorted the assassin.
+
+And he took a deliberate aim with the pistol.
+
+"I expected this," said Chivey, faintly; "but remember murder is a
+hanging matter."
+
+"I shall escape," retorted Murray, coldly.
+
+"But you can't," said Chivey, with a grin of triumph, even as he
+groaned.
+
+There was something in his manner which made Murray uneasy.
+
+"Twenty-four hours after I'm missing," gasped Chivey, "your forgery
+will be in the hands of the police; they can get you back for forgery,
+and while you're in the dock of the Old Bailey, if not before, to stand
+your trial for forgery, they will have a clue to my murder."
+
+His words caused Murray a singular thrill.
+
+"What do you mean by that, traitor?" he demanded.
+
+"Mean? Why, I know you too well to trust you. I tell you I have taken
+every possible precaution," retorted Chivey, "so that you are safe only
+while I live. I know my man too well not to take every precaution.
+Now," he added, sinking back exhausted, "now, my young sweet and
+pleasant, fire away."
+
+Murray paused, and concealed his pistol.
+
+Was it true about these precautions?
+
+Chivey was vindictive as he was cunning.
+
+He had shown this in every action.
+
+"Supposing I spare you?" said Murray.
+
+"You can't," retorted the tiger; "I'm done for."
+
+"So much the better."
+
+"So you say now," returned Chivey, his voice growing fainter and
+fainter. "Wait and remember my words--I'll be revenged."
+
+He gasped for breath.
+
+Then all was still.
+
+Was he dead?
+
+Murray trembled with fear at the thought.
+
+The words of the revengeful tiger rang in his ear.
+
+And he strode away.
+
+Silent and moody as befits one bearing the brand of Cain.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Chivey was far from being as badly hurt as he at first appeared.
+
+He had no bones broken, his worst injuries being a few bruises and a
+very unpleasant shaking.
+
+But Chivey was artful.
+
+He thought it best to keep quiet until Herbert Murray should be gone.
+
+Chivey struggled up on to his knees.
+
+Then he began to crawl along the sand pit.
+
+Progress was difficult at first.
+
+But he persevered and got along in time.
+
+"If these bruises would only let me think how further to act," he
+muttered to himself, as groaning, he crawled back to the town.
+
+"Senor Velasquez," he said to himself, as a happy thought crossed him.
+"Senor Velasquez is my man for a million."
+
+He paused to think over the ways and means, and a cunning smile
+deepened on his face, as he gradually made up his mind.
+
+"The worst of this is that I must have a confederate," muttered the
+young schemer.
+
+"No matter, there is only one way out of it, and I must make the best
+of it."
+
+Senor Velasquez was an obscure notary.
+
+Chivey had made a chatting acquaintance with the notary in the town,
+the Spaniard speaking English with tolerable proficiency.
+
+"What is the nature of the secret you hold _in terrorem_ over your
+master?" demanded the notary, when Chivey at length reached his office.
+
+Chivey smiled.
+
+"I said it was a secret, Mr. Velasquez," he answered.
+
+"But if you seek my advice about that," the notary made reply, "I must
+know all the particulars of the case."
+
+"Oh, no."
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"How can I advise if you keep me in the dark?"
+
+Chivey leered at the Spanish notary and grinned.
+
+"Don't you try and come the old soldier over me, please," he said.
+
+"Old soldier?" said Senor Velasquez, in surprise.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What is 'old soldier?' What do you mean by that?"
+
+"I mean, sir, the artful."
+
+"Is this English?" exclaimed the notary.
+
+"Rather."
+
+"Well, I confess I do not understand it."
+
+"Then," said Chivey, getting quite cheerful as he warmed into the
+matter, "I think your English education has been very seriously
+neglected, that's what I think."
+
+"Possibly," said the Spaniard. "I only learnt your tongue as a student,
+and am not well grounded in slang."
+
+"More's the pity."
+
+There was a spice of contempt in Chivey's tone which appeared rather to
+aggravate Senor Velasquez.
+
+"You are too clever, Mr. Chivey," said he, "far too clever. Now you
+want to keep your secret, and I shall guess that your secret
+concerns----"
+
+He paused.
+
+"Who?" asked Chivey.
+
+"The young man whose letters you employed me to intercept."
+
+The tiger looked alarmed.
+
+"I mean the young Senor Jack Harkaway."
+
+Chivey looked about him rather anxiously.
+
+"Don't be so imprudent, Senor Velasquez," he said. "You are a precious
+dangerous party to have any thing to do with."
+
+"Not I," returned Senor Velasquez; "I am easily dealt with. But those
+who would deal with me must not be too cunning."
+
+"You don't find nothing of that sort about me," said Chivey.
+
+"What is it you require of me?" demanded the notary, getting vexed.
+
+"He's a proud old cove," thought the tiger.
+
+So he drew in his horns and met the notary half way.
+
+"You are just right, Mr. Velasquez," he remarked. "It does concern Jack
+Harkaway."
+
+"I knew that."
+
+"Now I want you to give me your promise not to tell what I am going to
+say to you, nor to make any use of it without my express permission."
+
+"I promise. Now proceed, for I am pressed for time."
+
+"I will," said the tiger, resolutely.
+
+The notary produced paper and writing materials.
+
+"My master, Mr. Murray, has attempted my life," began Chivey, "and this
+is because I am possessed of certain secrets."
+
+"I see."
+
+"He is at the present moment under the idea that he has killed me. Now
+what I want is, to make him thoroughly understand that he does not get
+out of his difficulty by getting me out of the way, not by any manner
+of means at all."
+
+"I see."
+
+"How will you do it?"
+
+"I will go and see him."
+
+Chivey jumped at the idea immediately.
+
+"Yes, sir, that's the sort; there's no letters then to tell tales
+against us."
+
+"None."
+
+"Get one from him, though, if you can," said Chivey, eagerly;
+"something compromising him yet deeper, like."
+
+"I will do it," said Senor Velasquez. "And what will you pay for it?
+Give it a price."
+
+"Thirty pounds," returned Chivey, in a feverish state of anxiety.
+
+"I'll do it," returned the notary, with great coolness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+HOW SENOR VELASQUEZ PLAYED A DEEP GAME WITH CHIVEY--DOUBLE DEALING--HERBERT
+MURRAY'S CHANCE--"HARKAWAY MUST BE PUT AWAY"--A GUILTY COMPACT--CHIVEY
+IN DURANCE VILE--THE SICK ROOM AND THE OPIATE--AN OVERDOSE--THE
+NOTARY'S GUARDIAN--THE SPANISH GAROTTE--"TALKING IN YOUR SLEEP IS A
+VERY BAD GAME."
+
+
+Senor Velasquez was any thing but a fool.
+
+Chivey was not soft, but he was not competent to cope with such a keen
+spirit as this Spanish notary.
+
+Senor Velasquez walked up to the hotel in which Herbert Murray was
+staying, and the first person he chanced to meet was Murray himself.
+
+"I wish to have a word with you in private, Senor Murray," said the
+notary.
+
+Murray looked anxiously around him, starting "like a guilty thing upon
+a fearful summons."
+
+The bland smile of the Spanish notary reassured him, however.
+
+"What can I do for Senor Velasquez?" he asked.
+
+"I begged for a few words in private," answered Velasquez.
+
+"Take a seat, Senor Velasquez," said Herbert Murray, "and now tell me
+how I can serve you," after entering his room.
+
+The notary made himself comfortable in his chair.
+
+"I can speak in safety now?" he said.
+
+"Of course."
+
+"No fear of interruption here?"
+
+The notary looked Murray steadily in the eyes as he said--
+
+"I was thinking of your officious servant."
+
+Herbert Murray changed colour as he faltered--
+
+"Of whom?"
+
+"Chivey, I think you call him--your groom, I mean."
+
+"There is no fear from him now," said Murray, with averted eyes; "not
+the least in the world."
+
+Senor Velasquez smiled significantly.
+
+"Your man Chivey," resumed the Spanish notary, "has confided to me a
+secret."
+
+"Concerning me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The villain!"
+
+"Now listen to me, Senor Murray. You have behaved very imprudently
+indeed. Your whole secret is with me."
+
+Herbert started.
+
+"With you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Herbert Murray glanced anxiously at the door.
+
+The notary followed his eyes with some inward anxiety, yet he did not
+betray his uneasiness at all.
+
+"He was speaking the truth for once, then," said Murray. "He had
+confided his secrets to someone else."
+
+"Yes."
+
+Herbert Murray walked round the room, and took up his position with his
+back to the door.
+
+"Senor Velasquez," he said, in a low but determined voice, "you have
+made an unfortunate admission. If there is a witness, it is only one;
+you are that witness, and your life is in danger."
+
+The notary certainly felt uncomfortable, but he was too old a stager to
+display it.
+
+Herbert Murray produced a pistol, which he proceeded to examine and to
+cock deliberately.
+
+"That would not advance your purpose much, Senor Murray," he said,
+coolly; "the noise would bring all the house trooping into the room."
+
+Murray was quite calm and collected now, and therefore he was open to
+reason.
+
+"There is something in that," he said, "so I have a quieter helpmate
+here."
+
+He uncocked the pistol and put it in his breast pocket.
+
+Then he whipped out a long Spanish stiletto.
+
+"There are other reasons against using that."
+
+"And they are?"
+
+"Here is one," returned the notary, drawing a long, slender blade from
+his sleeve.
+
+Murray was palpably disconcerted at this.
+
+The Spanish notary and the young Englishman stood facing each other in
+silence for a considerable time.
+
+The former was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Now, look you here, Senor Murray," said he, "I am not a child, nor did
+I, knowing all I know, come here unprepared for every emergency--aye,
+even for violence."
+
+"Go on," said Murray, between his set teeth.
+
+"You have imprudently placed yourself in the hands of an unscrupulous
+young man."
+
+"I have."
+
+"And he has proved himself utterly unworthy?"
+
+"Utterly."
+
+"All of that is known to me," said the notary, craftily. "Now you must
+pay no heed to this Chivey."
+
+"I will not," returned Herbert Murray, significantly, "though there is
+little fear of further molestation from him, senor."
+
+Young Murray little dreamt of the cause of the notary's peculiar smile.
+
+"Your sole danger, as I take it, Senor Murray, is from your fellow
+countryman, Jack Harkaway."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then to him you must direct your attention. Where is he?"
+
+"Gone."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Don't know."
+
+"I do then," returned the notary, quietly: "and it is to tell you that
+that I am here. I have all the necessary information; you must follow
+him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"To make sure of him," coldly replied the Spaniard.
+
+"How?"
+
+Velasquez spoke not.
+
+But his meaning was just as clear as if he had put it into words.
+
+A vicious dig with his stiletto at the air.
+
+Nothing more.
+
+And so they began to understand each other.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Senor Velasquez, the notary, was playing a double game.
+
+From Herbert Murray he carefully kept the knowledge that Chivey still
+lived.
+
+And why?
+
+That knowledge would have lessened his hold.
+
+The cunning way in which he let Herbert Murray understand that he knew
+all, even to the attempt upon Chivey's life at the gravel pits,
+completed the mastery in which he meant to hold the young rascal.
+
+He arranged everything for young Murray.
+
+He discovered from him the destination of the ship in which Jack
+Harkaway and his friends had escaped, and he procured him a berth on a
+vessel sailing in the same direction.
+
+"Once you get within arm's length of this young Harkaway," he said;
+"you must be firm and let your blow be sure."
+
+"I will," returned his pupil.
+
+"Once Harkaway is removed from your path, you may sleep in peace, for
+he alone can now punish you for forgery."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"I know it," said Velasquez.
+
+So well were the notary's plans laid, and so luckily did fortune play
+into his hands, that forty-eight hours after his interview with Murray,
+he had that young gentleman safely on board a ship outward bound.
+
+Now Herbert Murray had passed but one night after that fearful scene by
+the gravel pit, but the remembrance of it haunted his pillow from the
+moment he went to bed to the moment he arose unrefreshed and full of
+fever.
+
+And yet he was setting out with the intention of securing his future
+peace and immunity from peril by the commission of a fresh crime.
+
+The ship was setting sail at a little after daybreak, and it had been
+arranged that Senor Velasquez was to come and see him off.
+
+But much to his surprise, the notary did not put in an appearance.
+
+Eagerly he waited for the ship to start, lest any thing should occur at
+the eleventh hour, and he should find himself laid by the heels to
+answer for his crimes.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Chivey was supposed to be hiding.
+
+In reality he was a prisoner in the house of Senor Velasquez, and he
+knew it.
+
+The notary was an old man, and he suffered from sundry ailments which
+belong to age--notably to rheumatism.
+
+An acute attack prostrated the old man, and held him down when he was
+most anxious to be up and doing.
+
+And the night before Herbert Murray was to set sail, he lay groaning
+and moaning with racking pains.
+
+His cries reached Chivey, who lay in the next room, and he came to the
+sick man's door to ask if he could be of any assistance.
+
+He peered warily in.
+
+In spite of his groans and anguish, the old notary was insensible under
+the influence of an opiate.
+
+Chivey crept in.
+
+On a low table beside the bed was a lamp flickering fearfully, and a
+glass containing some medicine.
+
+Beside the glass a phial labelled laudanum.
+
+Something possessed the intruder to empty the contents of the phial
+into the glass, and just as he had done so, the sufferer opened his
+eyes.
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+"It's me, Senor Velasquez," said the tiger. "You have been ill----"
+
+"What do you do here?" demanded the notary, sharply.
+
+"You called out. I thought I might be of assistance."
+
+"No, no."
+
+"Then I will go, senor," said Chivey, "for I am tired."
+
+"Stay, give me my physic before you go."
+
+Chivey handed him the glass.
+
+The sick man gulped it down, and made a wry face.
+
+"How bitter it tastes," he said, with a shudder.
+
+"Good-night, senor."
+
+"Good-night."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Chivey did not remain very long absent.
+
+The heavy breathing of the notary soon told him that it was safe to
+return to the room.
+
+The business of the morrow so filled the mind of the old Spaniard, that
+he was talking of it in his sleep.
+
+"At an hour after daybreak, I tell you, Murray," he muttered. "The
+berth is paid for, paid for by my gold. You follow on the track of your
+enemy Harkaway, and once you are within reach, give a sharp, sure
+stroke, and you will be free from your only enemy, seeing that you have
+already taken good care of your traitor servant."
+
+Chivey was amazed, electrified.
+
+Did he hear aright?
+
+"At daybreak!" he exclaimed, aloud.
+
+"Yes; at daybreak," returned the notary in his sleep.
+
+After a pause, the sleeper muttered--
+
+"What say you? If Chivey were not quite dead? What of that? How could
+he follow you? He has no funds. The only money he possessed I have now
+in my strong box under my bed."
+
+Chivey was staggered.
+
+"Is Murray going to bolt, and leave me in the power of this old
+villain, I wonder," he muttered.
+
+He broke off in his speculations, for the notary was babbling something
+again.
+
+"'The Mogador,'" muttered the old man, speaking more thickly than
+before as the opiate began to make itself felt; "the captain is called
+Gonzales. You have only to mention the name of Senor Velasquez, and he
+will treat you well. He knows me."
+
+He muttered a few more words which grew more and more incoherent each
+instant.
+
+Then he lay back motionless as a log.
+
+The opium held him fast in its power.
+
+"Now for the box," exclaimed the tiger, excitedly.
+
+Chivey tore open the box, and lifting up some musty old deeds and
+parchments, he feasted his eyes upon a mine of wealth.
+
+A pile of gold.
+
+Bright glittering pieces of every size and country.
+
+And beside it thick bundles of paper money.
+
+"Gold is uncommonly pretty," said the tiger, "but the notes packs the
+closest."
+
+Bundle after bundle he stowed away about his person, regularly padding
+his chest under his shirt.
+
+"Now for a trifle of loose cash," he said, coolly.
+
+So saying, he dropped about sixty or seventy gold pieces into his
+breeches pocket.
+
+His waistcoat pockets he stuffed full also.
+
+Then he pushed back the box into its place under the bed.
+
+"The old man still sleeps," he said to himself, looking round at the
+bed.
+
+He was in a rare good humour with himself.
+
+"Ha, ha! I am rich now," said Chivey. "Thank you, old senor, you have
+done me a good turn. May you sleep long."
+
+He gave a final glance about him and made off.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+A distant church clock tolled the hour of midnight as he gained the
+seashore.
+
+He was in luck.
+
+Not a soul did he encounter until he reached the beach, when he came
+upon two sailors, launching a rowing boat.
+
+"'Mogador?'" he said, in a tone of inquiry.
+
+"_Si_, senor."
+
+"That's your sort," said Chivey. "I want to see Captain Gonzales."
+
+"Come with us, then," said one of the sailors.
+
+"Rather," responded the tiger; "off we dive; whip 'em up, tickle him
+under the flank, and we're there in a common canter."
+
+The sailors both understood a little of English.
+
+In very little time they were standing on the deck of the "Mogador."
+
+And facing Chivey as he scrambled up the side, was the master of the
+ship, Captain Gonzales, to whom Chivey was presented at once by one of
+the sailors.
+
+"Senor Velasquez has sent me to you, captain," said the ever ready
+tiger.
+
+"Then you are welcome."
+
+"He told me to give you that," said Chivey, handing the captain a pair
+of banknotes; "and to beg you to give me the best of accommodation in a
+cabin all to myself."
+
+"It shall be done."
+
+"And above all not to let Mr. Murray know of my presence on board when
+he comes."
+
+"Good."
+
+"I am going on very important business for Senor Velasquez, captain,"
+pursued Chivey, with infinite assurance; "as you may judge, for he
+values your care of me at one hundred crowns to be paid on your next
+visit here."
+
+"Rely upon my uttermost assistance."
+
+"Thank you," said Chivey, with a patronising smile; "and now I'll be
+obliged to you to show me to my berth."
+
+"Here," cried the Spanish captain. "Pedro--Juan--Lopez. Take this
+gentleman to my private cabin."
+
+The "Mogador" stood out to sea bravely enough.
+
+Chivey was there.
+
+Herbert Murray was there.
+
+But the latter little suspected the presence of the former.
+
+Herbert Murray, in fancied security, was reclining on deck upon some
+cushions he had got up from below, smoking lazily, and looking up at
+the blue sky overhead, when Chivey, who had been looking vainly out for
+an appropriate cue to make his reappearance, slipped suddenly forward,
+and touching his hat, remarked in the coolest manner in the world--
+
+"Did you ring for me, sir?"
+
+Herbert looked up just as if he had seen a ghost.
+
+"Chivey!"
+
+"Guv'ner."
+
+Herbert Murray stared at his villainous servant.
+
+But villainous as Chivey was, Herbert Murray never thought a bit about
+that.
+
+His heart leaped to his mouth, and he was overjoyed to find him there.
+
+"Oh, Chivey, you vagabond!" he ejaculated. "I'm so awfully glad to see
+you."
+
+"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin."
+
+There's a lot of truth in that trite and homely old saying.
+
+For one little phrase from the guilty Herbert had come so straight from
+the heart that even the villainous tiger was touched immediately.
+
+"Look here, guv'nor," said Mr. Chivey, "I don't think you are half so
+bad as I thought. My opinion is that you are not half as bad as some of
+'em, and that the ugly job up at the gravel pits was all of my
+provoking. I bear no malice."
+
+"You don't!" exclaimed his master, quite overjoyed.
+
+"Not a bit."
+
+"Shake hands."
+
+Chivey obeyed.
+
+And they were faster friends than ever after that.
+
+But what about Senor Velasquez?
+
+What about all their compacts with the villain?
+
+For the time they were of no use to that plotter, whose plans had, up
+to the present time, failed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+THE ORPHAN IS PRESENTED AT COURT--IS A BIT NERVOUS--LESSONS IN THE
+TURKISH LANGUAGE--MANNERS AND CUSTOMS--THE PASHA OF MANY WIVES--AN
+OFFICIAL PRESENT--BOWSTRINGING--AN EXECUTION--HORROR! THE ORPHAN'S
+PERIL, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
+
+
+Having got Chivey and his master together again, we now travel to the
+Turkish coast to be in the company of young Jack and his friends.
+
+The orphan had been roused from his slumbers to be presented to the
+pasha of that province.
+
+His excellency the pasha had done them the honour to pay them a visit
+of ceremony on board ship, and was seated in great state surrounded by
+his suite in the best saloon.
+
+After the chief personages on board had been presented, his excellency
+had, according to Captain Deering, desired to see that distinguished
+personage, Mr. Figgins, _alias_ the orphan.
+
+And now the orphan stood trembling outside the door of the saloon.
+
+"In you go, Mr. Figgins," whispered Captain Deering.
+
+"One moment."
+
+"Nonsense."
+
+"Just a word."
+
+"Bah!" said the captain, with a grin; "you aren't going to have a tooth
+out. In with you."
+
+He opened the door, gave the timorous orphan a vigorous drive behind,
+and Mr. Figgins stood in the august presence.
+
+The pasha was seated--it would be irreverent to say squatted, which
+would better express it--upon a cushion that was, as Paddy says,
+hanging up on the floor.
+
+His excellency was in that peculiar, not to say painful attitude, which
+less agile mortals find unattainable, but which appears to mean true
+rest to Turk or tailor.
+
+The pasha rejoiced in a beard of enormous dimensions, a grizzled
+dirt-coloured beard that almost touched the cushion upon which he sat.
+
+A turban of red and gold silk was upon his venerable head.
+
+And beside his excellency upon a cushion were laid his arms, weapons of
+barbarous make, thought the orphan.
+
+A scimitar, curved _a la_ Saladin, two long-barrelled pistols, with
+jewelled butts, "as though they were earrings or bracelets," the orphan
+said to himself, a long dagger with an ivory hilt and sheath, and a
+piece of cord.
+
+"That's to tie them together with," mentally decided the orphan. "One
+might as well travel with the Woolwich Arsenal or the armoury from the
+Tower. Barbarous old beast."
+
+"Now," said Captain Deering, "tuck in your tuppenny, Mr. Figgins; bow
+as low as you can."
+
+The orphan put his back into an angle of forty-five with his legs.
+
+"Lower."
+
+"Ugh!"
+
+"A little bit more."
+
+"Lower," said Captain Deering, in an agonised whisper. "We shall all be
+bowstrung if his excellency thinks us wanting in respect."
+
+The orphan thus admonished made a further effort, and over he went
+
+Head first!
+
+There was such a chattering, such horrible sounds going on, as Captain
+Deering scrambled after the unfortunate orphan, that the latter thought
+his time was come.
+
+The captain dragged him to his feet, however.
+
+Then the presentation was proceeded with.
+
+"His Excellency Ali Kungham Ben Nardbake," cried a dignitary standing
+beside the pasha, with a voice like a toastmaster.
+
+"Good gracious me!" exclaimed the orphan, "all that?"
+
+"That's not half of it," said Captain Deering. "To the faithful, he is
+known as well as Sid Ney Ali Ben Lesters puar Nasr ed Bowstrung and
+Strattford Bustum."
+
+Mr. Figgins was greatly alarmed at this.
+
+"Powerful memories his godfathers and godmothers must have had," he
+murmured.
+
+Beside the pasha stood an official, with a beard of extraordinary
+length.
+
+"Who's that?"
+
+"Hush?" whispered Deering; "don't speak so loud."
+
+"Who is he?" again asked the orphan, sinking his voice.
+
+"The one with the beard?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"His name is Whiska Said Mahmoud Ben Ross Latreille," returned Deering.
+
+"Dear, dear!" murmured the orphan, in despairing accents, "I shall
+never----"
+
+"Ease her, stop her!" cried a familiar voice in Mr. Figgins's ear,
+"you've got it in a knot."
+
+It was Nat Cringle.
+
+All was hushed.
+
+The bearded official looked at the pasha, who nodded.
+
+Then drawing his sword, he signed to two of his men, and Nat Cringle,
+looking dreadfully frightened, was bustled off behind a curtain which
+had been rigged up across the saloon, just at the pasha's back.
+
+"What are they going to do?" asked the orphan, his teeth chattering in
+alarm.
+
+Captain Deering was so much affected at this stage of the proceedings
+that he covered his face with his pocket-handkerchief.
+
+"Poor Nat!"
+
+"What is it?" faltered Mr. Figgins, faintly.
+
+"Did you not see the cord taken away with Nat?" demanded the captain,
+in a funereal bass.
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+"Then hark."
+
+Mr. Figgins did hark, and an awful sound reached him from behind the
+curtain.
+
+It was more like the expiring groans of a hapless porker in the hands
+of a ruthless butcher, than any thing else you could compare it to.
+
+A fatal struggle was going on behind the curtain.
+
+Groans and dying wails were heard for awhile.
+
+Awful sounds.
+
+Then all was still.
+
+"Oh, what is it?" murmured the orphan, in distress.
+
+"Squiziz Wizen, the pasha's executioner, has dealt upon poor Nat
+Cringle."
+
+"What!" gasped Figgins.
+
+"Bowstrung," returned Captain Deering.
+
+The orphan turned faint.
+
+Then he turned to the door, and would have fled.
+
+"Oh, let me go home," he cried. "I don't feel happy here."
+
+But Deering stayed him.
+
+"You must not go, Mr. Figgins," whispered Captain Deering.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"His excellency is about to address us."
+
+The pasha coughed.
+
+"_Quel est votre jeu?_" demanded his excellency.
+
+"What does he say?" asked Figgins.
+
+"Batta pudn," continued his excellency, with a gracious air; "also bono
+Jonni."
+
+"He says you may present whatever you have brought," whispered the
+captain.
+
+"I've brought nothing," returned Mr. Figgins.
+
+"Nothing?"
+
+"No; I forgot."
+
+"Thoughtless man," said Captain Deering. "Take this."
+
+He thrust a parcel of brown paper into his hands.
+
+"What shall I do with it?"
+
+"Place it on the cushion before his excellency."
+
+Mr. Figgins complied.
+
+"Luciousosity," said the pasha, looking upon the offering greedily.
+
+Then he clapped his hands vigorously three times.
+
+The minister appeared, leading two veiled ladies.
+
+The pasha made some remarks in his own language, which Captain Deering
+was commissioned to render into English.
+
+"His excellency, recognising your generous offering," said he,
+"presents you with the choicest gifts of his seraglio, two wives. You
+must cherish them through life."
+
+The orphan's countenance fell at this.
+
+The capital punishment of poor Nat Cringle was as nothing to this.
+
+"Tell him I'd rather not take two," he whispered to Deering.
+
+"Why not?" ejaculated the latter.
+
+"I wish to live single."
+
+The bearded minister approached, leading the two veiled beauties.
+
+"Oh! oh, dear," groaned the poor orphan.
+
+He placed a gloved hand of each upon Mr. Figgins's shoulders.
+
+Then, upon a given signal, they threw their arms around the orphan and
+hugged him, while a violent cachinnation was heard.
+
+"What a lovely smile," said Captain Deering. "Did you hear it?"
+
+"Oh! Please don't," cried the orphan.
+
+He struggled to get free.
+
+But the beauties of the seraglio held him tight.
+
+The orphan grew desperate, and jerked himself out of their clutches.
+
+But in the tussle down he flopped on the ground again.
+
+"Infidel dog!" roared the pasha, venting his wrath in English,
+"barbarian and idolater, thou shalt die!"
+
+Thereupon, Captain Deering dropped down beside the orphan, and sued for
+mercy.
+
+"Be merciful, O great prince!" he cried. "Have pity on your humblest
+slave. His heart is filled with gratitude."
+
+The pasha growled some reply that was indistinct, but which to the
+startled Figgins, sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder.
+
+"Oh, what shall I do?" moaned the orphan. "Oh, somebody take me home."
+
+"Silence," whispered Captain Deering. "Prostrate yourself as they do.
+Bury your face and be silent, until his excellency bids you rise. He
+may then overlook it."
+
+Mr. Figgins scarce dared to breathe.
+
+There he lay, with his face upon the ground, humbly awaiting the stern
+despot's permission to move.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+He waited long--very long.
+
+While he waited thus, a strange commotion was observed amongst the
+pasha's suite.
+
+The chief officer removed his turban and beard, and--wonderful to
+relate!--beneath it was the laughing face of Harry Girdwood.
+
+He winked at his august master, who hurriedly removed his turban and
+beard as well.
+
+And then the pasha bore a marvellous resemblance to Jack Harkaway the
+younger.
+
+They helped to drag off each other's robes--for beneath their Turkish
+garments were their everyday clothes.
+
+The veiled beauties of the harem were disrobed.
+
+Beneath their veils and feminine attire they were familiarly garbed,
+and a glance revealed them to be Tinker and his body-guard Bogey.
+
+"Now then, Mr. Figgins," said Nat Cringle, "wake up."
+
+The orphan looked up in amazement at the sound.
+
+"Nat Cringle!"
+
+"Hullo!"
+
+Mr. Figgins looked about in wonderment.
+
+Facing him was Jack Harkaway, sitting upon a camp stool, and beside him
+stood his constant companion, Harry Girdwood.
+
+Engaged in conversation with them was Captain Deering, and the subject
+of their conversation appeared to be the orphan himself.
+
+The Turkish soldiers and people generally forming the pasha's suite had
+disappeared, and in their places were several sailors, some of whom
+appeared to be considerably amused at something.
+
+When Mr. Figgins sat up and looked about him, he muttered--
+
+"What's all this?"
+
+"A very serious case, Harry," said Jack, gravely.
+
+"Very."
+
+"A case for the doctor."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"These habits of drinking grow upon one," said Harry Girdwood, sadly.
+
+"I don't understand," faltered the orphan.
+
+"Shall we help you to bed, sir?" asked one of the sailors
+compassionately.
+
+"Never!" cried Mr. Figgins, with majesty.
+
+"Oh, yes, do," said Harry.
+
+But nerved to desperation, the orphan tore himself away from them, and
+darted to the door.
+
+"I shall go and report upon these outrageous doings to the captain of
+the ship," he said, drawing himself up.
+
+"Here's the captain himself," said a good-natured voice behind him.
+"And now, what can he do for you, Mr. Figgins?"
+
+The orphan turned.
+
+There was the captain.
+
+"Mr. Figgins," said the captain, with a serious air, and shaking his
+forefinger at him, "you have been indulging very early in the day."
+
+"What?"
+
+He could endure no more.
+
+With a cry of disgust, he dashed past the captain, and scrambled up the
+stairs on deck.
+
+Once there, he shot like a race horse along the deck, and gaining his
+own berth, he locked himself in.
+
+But even here he could not shut out the ringing laughter of the
+incorrigible practical jokers.
+
+Mr. Figgins, as you may guess, was seen no more that day.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Upon the day following the events just related, Jack received letters
+from home.
+
+And among them was one which created no little excitement amongst the
+nearest friends of Jack Harkaway.
+
+"Do you think it probable that he'll come?"
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," said Harry Girdwood.
+
+"I should like to see his dear old face again," said Jack.
+
+"I'll bet a penny that we shall see him here yet; if not here, at least
+at our next stage," said Harry.
+
+"It would be a rare treat to talk with someone who had seen our dear
+folks at home."
+
+"It would indeed. I hope he will come."
+
+And who did they hope would come?
+
+Can you not guess reader? No.
+
+Then read on, and you will learn who it was and what were the reasons
+which were to bring a friend from home roaming to this distant shore to
+meet Jack and his friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+THE SAPIENT DOCTOR MUGGINS CAME IN HASTE--IMPEDIMENTS IN THE WAY OF
+THE PRESCRIPTION--DWELLS ON ARTIFICIAL LIMBS--OLD-REMINISCENCES--THE
+TORMENTOR.
+
+
+Reader, we will return for a little time to our old friend, Mole, in
+England.
+
+Mr. Mole was sad.
+
+For so many years of his life had old Isaac Mole led a wandering
+career, that he found it exceedingly difficult, not to say irksome, to
+settle down to the prosy existence which they had all dropped into.
+
+He never complained, it is true.
+
+But he fell into a sort of settled melancholy, which nothing could
+shake off, and even grew neglectful of the bottle.
+
+His friends grew anxious.
+
+They wished him to take medical advice.
+
+He resisted all persuasion stoutly.
+
+So they had recourse to artifice, and invited an eminent medical man to
+their house as a visitor.
+
+And then under the guise of a friendly chat, the doctor took his
+observations.
+
+But the peculiar ailment, if ailment it could be called, of Isaac Mole,
+completely baffled the man of science at first.
+
+It was only in a casual conversation that, being an observing man, he
+discovered the real truth.
+
+"Our patient wants a roving commission," said the physician to himself.
+
+And then he communicated his own convictions to old Jack.
+
+"I scarcely believe it possible, doctor," said Jack.
+
+But the doctor was positive.
+
+"Nothing will do him any good but to get on the move; I'm as sure of
+that as I am that he has no physical ailment."
+
+"What's to be done then?" demanded Harkaway. "He can't travel alone."
+
+"I don't know that," said the doctor; "he's hale and wiry enough. The
+only difficulty that I can see, is Mrs. Mole."
+
+"I'll undertake to get over that," said Jack.
+
+"You will?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is settled then," said the physician, with a smile.
+
+"Good."
+
+"What would do him more good than all the physic in the world, would be
+to send him after your son."
+
+"My Jack!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Impossible. Why, Jack is _en route_ for Turkey."
+
+"What of that?" coolly inquired the doctor.
+
+"Consider the distance, my dear doctor."
+
+"Pshaw, sir. Distance is nothing nowadays. It was a very different
+thing when I was a boy. Take my word for it, Mr. Harkaway, our patient
+will jump at the chance."
+
+"He's very much attached to my roving boy."
+
+"I know it," returned the doctor. "Never a day passes but he speaks of
+him; I declare that I never had a single interview with Mr. Mole, but
+that he has managed somehow to turn the conversation upon your son and
+his pranks."
+
+"Oh, Jack, he has played him some dreadful tricks."
+
+"Yes," returned the physician dryly, "and so has Jack's father, by all
+accounts."
+
+"Ahem!"
+
+"And yet I really believe that he enjoys the recollection of the boy's
+infamous practical jokes."
+
+"I believe you are right," responded Harkaway.
+
+A day or two later on the doctor was seated with Mr. Mole.
+
+"Mr. Mole."
+
+"Doctor."
+
+"Your health must be looked to. You'll have to travel."
+
+"How, doctor?" said Mole.
+
+"Young Harkaway is in foreign parts, and his prolonged absence causes
+his parents considerable uneasiness, and you must go and look after
+him."
+
+Mole's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Do you mean it?"
+
+"I do. When would you like to start?"
+
+"To-day."
+
+"Very good. The sooner the better," said the doctor.
+
+Mr. Mole's countenance fell suddenly.
+
+An ugly thought crossed him.
+
+What would Mrs. Mole say?
+
+"There is one matter I would like to consult you on, doctor."
+
+"What might that be?" demanded the doctor.
+
+"My wife might have a word to say upon the subject."
+
+"I will undertake to remove her scruples," said the doctor.
+
+"You will?"
+
+"Yes. She will never object when she knows how important your mission
+is."
+
+"Doctor," exclaimed Mr. Mole, joyously; "you are a trump."
+
+A delay naturally occurred, however.
+
+Mr. Mole could not travel with his wooden stumps, his friends one and
+all agreed.
+
+No.
+
+He must have a pair of cork legs made.
+
+The doctor who had been attending our old friend knew of a maker of
+artificial limbs who was a wonderful man, according to all accounts.
+
+"Yes," said Mole, "cork legs well hosed will----"
+
+At this moment a voice tuning up under the window cut him short,
+
+    "He gave his own leg to the undertaker,
+    And sent for a skilful cork-leg maker.
+                            Ritooral looral."
+
+"That's Dick Harvey. Infamous!" ejaculated Mr. Mole.
+
+    "On a brace of broomsticks never I'll walk,
+    But I'll have symmetrical limbs of cork.
+                            Ritooral looral."
+
+"Monstrous!" exclaimed Mr. Mole; "close the window, sir, if you
+please."
+
+It was all very well to say "Close it," but this was easier said than
+done.
+
+Dick Harvey had fixed it beyond the skill of that skilful mechanician
+to unfasten.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The aggravating minstrel continued without--
+
+    "Than timber this cork is better by half,
+    Examine likewise my elegant calf.
+                            Ritooral looral----"
+
+"I will have that window closed," cried Mole.
+
+He arose, forgetting in his haste that he was minus one leg, and down
+he rolled.
+
+The artificial limb-maker lunged after him, and succeeded with infinite
+difficulty in getting him on to his feet again.
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Mr. Mole. "No matter, I can manage it."
+
+He picked up the nearest object to hand, and hurled it out of window.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+HOW THE ORPHAN BECAME POSSESSED OF A FLUTE.
+
+
+But we must leave Mole for a time, and return to our friends on their
+travels.
+
+When next they landed at a Turkish town, Mr. Figgins went to a
+different hotel to that patronised by young Jack, whose practical
+joking was rather too much for the orphan.
+
+But they found him out, and paid him a visit one morning.
+
+After the first greeting, Mr. Figgins was observed to be unusually
+thoughtful.
+
+At length, after a long silence he exclaimed--
+
+"I can't account for it, I really can't."
+
+"What can't you account for, Mr. Figgins?" asked young Jack.
+
+"The strange manners of the people of this country," answered the
+orphan.
+
+"Of what is it you have to complain particularly?" inquired Jack.
+
+"Well, it's this; wherever I go, I seem to be quite an object of
+curiosity."
+
+"Of interest you mean, Mr. Figgins," returned Jack, winking at Harry
+Girdwood; "you are an Englishman, you know, and Englishmen are always
+very interesting to foreigners."
+
+"I can't say as to that," the orphan replied; "I only know I can't show
+my nose out of doors without being pointed at."
+
+"Ah, yes. You excite interest the moment you make your appearance."
+
+"Then, if I walk in the streets, dark swarthy men stare at me and
+follow me till I have quite a crowd at my heels."
+
+"Another proof of the interest they take in you."
+
+"Well, I don't like it at all," said the orphan, fretfully; "and then
+the dogs bark at me in a very distressing manner."
+
+"It's the only way they have of bidding you welcome," remarked Harry
+Girdwood.
+
+"I wish they wouldn't take any notice of me at all; it's a nuisance."
+
+"Perhaps you'd like them to leave off barking, and take to biting?"
+
+"No, it's just what I shouldn't like, but it's what I'm constantly
+afraid they will do," wailed the poor orphan.
+
+There was a slight pause, during which young Jack and his comrade
+grinned quietly at each other, and presently the former said--
+
+"I think I can account for all this."
+
+"Can you?" asked Mr. Figgins. "How?"
+
+"It all lies in the dress you wear."
+
+"In the dress?"
+
+"Yes; you are in a Turkish country, and although I admit you look well
+in your splendid new tourist suit, cross-barred all over in four
+colours, I fancy it would be better if you dressed as a Turk during
+your stay here."
+
+"A Turk, Jack?"
+
+"Yes; now, if you were to have your head shaved, and dress yourself
+like a Turk," said Jack, "all this wonderment would cease, and you
+would go out, and come in, without exciting any remark."
+
+Mr. Figgins fell back in his chair.
+
+"Ha-ha-have my head sha-a-ved, dress myself up li-like a Turk?" he
+gasped. "You surely don't mean that?"
+
+"I do, indeed," replied Jack, seriously.
+
+"What? Wear baggy breeches, and an enormous turban, and slippers turned
+up at the toes! What would the natives say?"
+
+"Why, they'd say you were a very sensible individual," remarked Harry.
+"Don't you remember the old saying?--'When you're in Turkey, you must
+do as Turkey does.'"
+
+Mr. Figgins reflected for a moment.
+
+"And you really think if I were to go in, for a regular Turkish
+fit-out, I should be allowed to enjoy my walks in peace?" he asked, at
+length.
+
+"Decidedly," answered his counsellors, with the utmost gravity.
+
+"Then I'll take your advice, and be a Turk until further notice," said
+the orphan; "but there's one thing still."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"My complexion isn't near dark enough for one of these infidels."
+
+"Oh, that won't matter," said Jack; "only slip into the Turkish togs.
+Go in for any quantity of turban, and they won't care a button about
+your complexion."
+
+"Very well, then, that's settled; I'll turn Turk at once. But must I
+have my head shaved?"
+
+"That's important," said Jack.
+
+Having made up his mind on that point, the orphan at once put on his
+hat, and taking a sip of brandy to compose his nerves, he sallied
+forth, directing his steps to the nearest barber's.
+
+On his way thither he attracted the usual amount of attention, and when
+he reached the barber's shop, he found himself accompanied by a select
+crowd of deriding Turks, and a dozen or so of yelping curs, shouting
+and barking in concert.
+
+The barber received him with the extreme of Eastern courtesy.
+
+"What does the English signor require at the hands of the humblest of
+his slaves?" was the deferential inquiry.
+
+"I have a fancy to turn Turk, and I want my head shaved," explained Mr.
+Figgins, nervously; "pray be careful, since I'm only a poor orphan,
+who----"
+
+Before he had time to finish his sentence, he found himself wedged into
+a chair with a towel under his chin.
+
+The next moment his head, under the energetic manipulation of the
+operator, was a creamy mass of lather.
+
+"Be sure and don't cut my head off," murmured the orphan, as he watched
+the razor flashing to and fro along the strop.
+
+"Your servant will not disturb the minutest pimple," said the barber.
+
+With wonderful celerity, the artist went to work.
+
+In less than two minutes the cranium of Mark Antony Figgins was as
+smooth and destitute of hair as a bladder of lard.
+
+Then followed the process of shampooing, which was very soothing to the
+orphan's feelings.
+
+At length, the operation being completed, the barber bade the orphan
+put on his hat--which from the loss of his hair went over his eyes and
+rested on his nose--and left the shop.
+
+His friends--the mob and the dogs--had waited for him outside very
+patiently.
+
+If his appearance had been interesting before, their interest was now
+greatly increased.
+
+A loud shout welcomed him, and he proceeded along the street under
+difficulties, holding his hat in one hand, with the crowd at his heels.
+
+Straight to the bazaar he went.
+
+Here he found a venerable old Turkish Jew, who seemed to divine by
+instinct what he wanted.
+
+"Closhe, shignor, closhe," he cried in broken English. "Shtep in and
+take your choice."
+
+Before the bewildered orphan knew where he was, he found himself in the
+interior of Ibrahim's emporium.
+
+Here a profusion of garments were displayed before his eyes.
+
+Having no preference for any particular colour, he took what the Jew
+pressed upon him.
+
+In a short time his costume was complete, consisting of a pair of ample
+white trousers, and a blue shirt, surmounted by a crimson vest, secured
+at the waist by a purple sash, and on his feet a pair of yellow
+slippers of Morocco leather.
+
+The turban alone was wanting.
+
+"Be sure and let me have a good big turban," urged Mr. Figgins.
+
+Ibrahim assured him that he should have one as big as he could carry,
+and he kept his word.
+
+Unrolling a great many yards of stuff, he formed a turban of enormous
+dimensions of green and yellow stripe, which he placed upon the head of
+his customer.
+
+"Shall I do? Do I look like a native Turk?" asked the latter, after he
+had put on his things.
+
+"Do?" echoed the Jew, exultingly. "If it ish true dat de closhe makes
+de man, you vill do excellent vell, and de people vill not now run
+after you."
+
+Mr. Figgins having settled his account with the Hebrew clothier, and
+paid just three times as much as he ought to have done, went out again
+with considerable confidence, looking as gaudy in his mixture of bright
+colours as a macaw.
+
+"No one will dare to jeer at me now," he persuaded himself.
+
+But he was mistaken.
+
+Hardly had he taken a half dozen steps when his brilliant costume
+attracted great notice.
+
+"What a splendid Turk!" cried some.
+
+"Who is that magnificent bashaw?" asked others, as he strutted past.
+
+No one knew, and upon a nearer examination it was seen that the
+"splendid Turk" and "magnificent bashaw" was no Turk at all.
+
+Indignation seized upon those who had a moment before been filled with
+admiration.
+
+"Impostor, unbelieving dog!" shouted the enraged populace. "He is an
+accursed Giaour, in the dress of a follower of the Prophet."
+
+At this, a fierce yell rose upon the air.
+
+"Down with the wretch!"
+
+"Tear him to pieces!"
+
+"Let him be impaled!" cried the multitude.
+
+With these dire threats, the angry crowd rushed towards Mr. Figgins,
+headed by a short, fat Turk, who was particularly indignant.
+
+The luckless orphan, anxious to avoid the terrible doom that was
+threatening him, rushed away in an opposite direction.
+
+The Turks are not, as a rule, remarkable for swift running.
+
+Mr. Figgins, whose pace was quickened by the dreadful prospect of a
+stake through his body, would have easily distanced them.
+
+But unfortunately, his green and yellow striped turban, dislodged from
+its position, fell--as his hat had previously done--over his eyes, and
+almost smothered him.
+
+He tugged away at it as he ran, in order to get rid of it.
+
+But all he succeeded in doing was to loosen one of the ends.
+
+Gradually the turban began to unwind itself, the end trailing on the
+ground.
+
+The Turk in pursuit caught up this end, and grasping it firmly, brought
+all his weight to bear upon the fugitive.
+
+Suddenly the hapless Figgins began to feel strong symptoms of
+strangulation.
+
+The next moment, a sharp jerk from the burly Turk pulled him to the
+ground.
+
+But this saved him.
+
+No sooner was he prostrate on his back than the turban slipped from his
+head, and he was free.
+
+Springing to his feet, he darted off at a speed which no human grocer
+could ever have dreamt of.
+
+He was soon far beyond pursuit.
+
+All he had lost was his green and yellow striped turban.
+
+But the loss of that, though it somewhat fretted him, had saved his
+life.
+
+He found himself in a retired spot, and no one being near, he sat down
+to reflect and recover his breath.
+
+"What a country this is," he thought; "pleasant enough, though, as far
+as the climate goes; but the people in it are awful! What a lot of
+bloodthirsty, bilious-looking wretches, to be sure; ready to consign to
+torture and death a poor innocent, unprotected orphan because he
+happens to be of a different colour from themselves!"
+
+So perturbed were the thoughts of Mr. Figgins that he was obliged to
+smoke a cigar to soothe himself.
+
+But even this failed to quiet his agitated nerves.
+
+His mind was full of gloomy apprehensions.
+
+"Where am I?" he asked himself. "How am I to get home? I shall be sure
+to meet some of the rabble, and with them and the dogs I shall be torn
+to pieces. What will become of me--wretched orphan that I am! What
+shall I do?"
+
+Hardly had he uttered these distressful exclamations when a prolonged
+note of melody caught his ear.
+
+"Hark!" he said to himself, "there is music. 'Music hath charms to
+soothe the savage breast,' says the poet, and it seems to have a
+soothing effect upon my nerves."
+
+The strain had died away, and was heard no longer.
+
+Mark Antony Figgins was in despair.
+
+"Play again, sweet instrument," he cried, anxiously, "play again."
+
+Again the sweet note sounded and again the solitary orphan felt
+comforted.
+
+"It's a flute; it must be a flute," he murmured to himself, as he
+listened. "I always liked the flute. It's so soft and melancholy."
+
+The grocer had a faint recollection of his boyhood's days, when he had
+been a tolerably efficient performer on a penny whistle.
+
+Just at this moment the mournful note he heard recalled the past
+vividly.
+
+So vividly, that Mr. Figgins, in the depths of his loneliness, fixed
+his eyes sadly on the turned-up toes of his leather slippers, and wept.
+
+As the melody proceeded, so did the drops pour more copiously from the
+orphan's eyes.
+
+And no wonder, for of all the doleful too-tooings ever uttered by wind
+instrument, this was the dolefullest.
+
+But it suited Mr. Figgin's mood at that moment.
+
+"It's a Turkish flute, I suppose," he sobbed; "but it's very
+beau-u-u-tiful. I wish I had a flute."
+
+He got up and looked round, and found himself outside an enclosure of
+thick trees.
+
+It was evidently within this enclosure the flute player was located.
+
+As the reader knows, there was nothing bold or daring about Mark Antony
+Figgins.
+
+But now the flute seemed to have inspired him with a kind of
+supernatural recklessness.
+
+"I'd give almost any thing for that flute," he murmured to himself. "I
+feel that I should like to play the flute. I wonder who it is playing
+it, and whether he'd sell it?"
+
+The unseen performer, at this juncture, burst forth into such a
+powerfully shrill cadence that the orphan was quite thrilled with
+delight.
+
+"A railway whistle's a fool to it!" he cried, as he clapped his hands
+in ecstasy. "Bravo, bravo! Encore!"
+
+Having shouted his applause till he was hoarse, he walked along by the
+side of the wall, seeking anxiously for some place of entrance.
+
+At length he came to an open gate.
+
+A stout gentleman--unmistakably a Turk--with a crimson cap on his head,
+ornamented with a tassel, and a long, reed-like instrument in his hand,
+was looking cautiously forth.
+
+It was evidently the musician, who, having been interrupted in his
+solo, had come to see who the delinquent was that had disturbed him.
+
+The enthusiastic Figgins had caught sight of the flute, and that was
+sufficient.
+
+Forgetting his usual nervous timidity, he rushed forward.
+
+"My dear sir," he exclaimed, "it was exquisite--delicious! Pray oblige
+me with another tune--or, if you have no objection, let me attempt
+one."
+
+As he spoke, the excited Figgins stretched forth both his hands.
+
+The owner of the flute, who evidently suspected an attempt at robbery,
+quietly placed his instrument behind him, and looking hard at Figgins,
+said sternly--
+
+"What son of a dog art thou?"
+
+To which Figgins replied mildly--
+
+"You're mistaken, my dear sir; I'm the son of my father and mother, but
+they--alas!--are no more, and I am now only a poor desolate orphan."
+
+The tears trickled from his eyes as he spoke.
+
+The Turk did not appear in the least affected.
+
+"What bosh is all this?" he asked, after a moment, in a hard,
+unsympathetic tone.
+
+"It's no bosh at all, I assure you, my dear signor," replied Figgins,
+earnestly; "the fact is, I heard you play on your flute, and its sweet
+tones so soothed my spirits--which are at this moment extremely
+low--that I am come to make several requests."
+
+"Umph!" growled the Turk; "what are they?"
+
+"First, that you will play me another of your charming airs, next, that
+you will allow me to attempt one myself, and thirdly, that you will
+sell me the instrument you hold in your hand.'"
+
+The Turk glared for a moment fiercely at the proposer of these modest
+requests, and then politely wishing the graves of his departed
+relatives might be perpetually defiled, he replied curtly--
+
+"First, I am not going to play any more to-night; next, I will see you
+in Jehanum[1] before I allow you to play; and thirdly, I won't sell my
+flute."
+
+      [1] The abode of lost spirits.
+
+With these words, he stepped back into the garden and slammed the gate
+in Mr. Figgins' face.
+
+"I shall never get over this," Figgins murmured to himself, gloomily;
+"that flute would have cheered my solitary hours, and that ruthless
+Turk refuses to part with it. Now, indeed, I feel my peace of mind is
+gone forever."
+
+His grief at this juncture became so overpowering, that he leant
+against the door, and in his despair hammered it with his head.
+
+Suddenly the door burst open, and the distressed orphan, in all his
+brilliant array, shot backwards into some shrubs of a prickly nature,
+whose sharp thorns added to his agonizing sensations.
+
+"Will anybody be kind enough to put an end to my misery?" he wailed, as
+he lay on his back, feeling as though he had been transformed into a
+human pincushion.
+
+He was not a little surprised to hear a familiar voice exclaim--
+
+"Lor' bless me! dat you, Massa Figgins?"
+
+Glancing up, he espied the black face of Bogey looking down upon him.
+
+"Yes, it's me," he answered, in a wailing tone; "help me up."
+
+"Gib me you fist," cried Bogey.
+
+Mr. Figgins extended his hand, and the negro grasping it, by a vigorous
+jerk hoisted the prostrate grocer out of his thorny bed, tingling all
+over as though he had been stung by nettles.
+
+Bogey was quite astounded at the transformation of his dress.
+
+"Why, Massa Figgins, what out-and-out guy you look!" he exclaimed;
+"whar all you hair gone to?"
+
+The orphan only groaned.
+
+He was thinking of another h-air (without the h), the air he had heard
+on the Turkish flute.
+
+Just at that moment the too-too-too of the instrument sounded again.
+
+Figgins stood like one absorbed.
+
+All his agonizing pains were at once forgotten.
+
+"How sweet, how plaintive!" he murmured to himself; "too-too-too,
+tooty-tooty-too!" he hummed, in imitation of the sound.
+
+Bogey heard it also, and involuntarily put his hands on big stomach and
+made a comically wry face.
+
+"Whar dat orful squeakin' row?" he asked.
+
+"Hush, hush!" exclaimed the orphan, holding up his hands reprovingly,
+and turning up his eyes at the same time; "it's heavenly music; it's a
+flute, my boyhood's favourite instrument."
+
+"Gorra!" muttered Bogey; "it 'nuff to gib a fellar de mullingrubs all
+down him back and up him belly."
+
+He looked towards Mr. Figgins, and seeing him standing with his hands
+clasped looking like a white-washed Turk in a trance, he said--
+
+"What de matter wid yer, Massa Figgins? Am you ill?"
+
+"That flute, that melodious flute, that breathes forth dulcet notes of
+peace," murmured the orphan, in a deep, absorbed whisper. "I must have
+that flute."
+
+Bogey felt a little anxious.
+
+"Me t'ink Massa Figgins getting lilly soft in him nut; him losing him
+hair turn him mad," he said to himself.
+
+"I must have that flute," repeated the grocer, in the same abstracted
+tone and manner. "I should think it cheap at ten pounds."
+
+Bogey, on hearing this, opened his eyes very wide.
+
+He thought he saw a chance of doing a profitable bit of business on his
+own account.
+
+So, after an instant, he said quietly--
+
+"Good flute worth more dan ten pounds; rale good blower like dat worth
+twenty at de bery least."
+
+"Yes, yes; I'd give twenty willingly," murmured the wrapt Figgins.
+
+"Bery good," said Bogey, as he instantly disappeared through the gate.
+
+The orphan remained waiting without.
+
+The "too-too-tooing" was going on in the usual doleful and melancholy
+manner, and guided by the sound, Bogey crept forward till he came in
+sight of the performer, who was seated in a snug nook in his garden
+playing away to his heart's content; or, as the negro supposed,
+endeavouring to frighten away the birds.
+
+Bogey took stock of the stout player and his flute.
+
+Creeping along the shrubbery till he had got exactly opposite to the
+flautist, he, in the midst of the too-too-tooing, uttered an unearthly
+groan.
+
+"Inshallah!" exclaimed the Turk, stopping suddenly; "what was that?"
+
+"It war me," groaned the hidden Bogey more deeply than before.
+
+"Who are you?" faltered the musician, hearing the mysterious voice, but
+seeing no one.
+
+"Me am special messenger from de Prophet," Bogey replied.
+
+"Allah Kerim! my dream is coming true. Is it the Prophet speaks?"
+gasped the Turk, his olive cheeks turning the hue of saffron.
+
+"Iss, it de profit brings me here," returned Bogey, truthfully.
+
+"What message does he send to his slave?" asked the old Turk.
+
+"He say you make sich orful row wid dat flute he can git no sleep, an',
+derefore, he send me to stop it. You got to gib up de flute direckly."
+
+The teeth of the half-silly musician were chattering in his head.
+
+His optics rolled wildly from side to side.
+
+Just at this crisis Bogey, with his eyes glaring and his white teeth
+fully exposed, thrust his black face from the foliage.
+
+"Drop it," he cried, with a hideous grin.
+
+He had no occasion to repeat the command.
+
+With a yell of terror the horrified Turkish gentleman, who was really
+half an idiot, and was just then away from his keepers, let fall his
+instrument from his trembling fingers, and starting up, waddled away
+from the spot as though the furies were after him, while the special
+messenger of the Prophet quietly picked up the flute with a chuckle,
+and retraced his steps to the gate.
+
+Here he found Mr. Figgins.
+
+He could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw the negro with the
+precious instrument in his hand.
+
+"The flute, the flute!" he cried, "the soother of sorrow, the orphan's
+comforter. Let me clutch you in my grasp. Oh, it brings back my
+boyhood's days."
+
+As he spoke, he rushed forward eagerly to seize the treasure.
+
+But Bogey stuck to it.
+
+"Money fust, Massa Figgins," he said, with a grin, "twenty poun' am de
+price, yah know, an' dis a fuss-rate blower. Too-too-too,
+tooty-tum-too," he sounded on the instrument.
+
+The orphan was frantic.
+
+"I haven't twenty pounds with me," he exclaimed, excitedly, "but I'll
+pay you the moment we get home, and five pounds over for interest. You
+know I'm well off, and am also a man of my word."
+
+Bogey did know this, and was not afraid to trust him.
+
+"Well, den, dere de flute," he said; "but don't begin too-too-tooin'
+till we git good way off, else p'r'aps de gem'l'm wid de red cap hear
+and send a dog arter de speshal messenger of de Prophet."
+
+Mr. Figgins pledged himself not to blow a note till they were a mile
+from the spot at least, and on the strength of this promise, Bogey gave
+him up the instrument.
+
+But no sooner did the excited orphan find it in his possession than he
+forgot all his promises, and putting the flute to his lips, he at once
+commenced "The Girl I Left Behind Me," in the most brilliant manner--so
+brilliant indeed that it reached the ears of the owner inside, and, as
+Bogey had shrewdly suspected would be the case, the latter began to
+have some slight suspicions that he had been done out of his flute by
+an impostor.
+
+Very soon his voice was heard calling his dogs, and almost immediately
+loud barkings were heard.
+
+"Run, run, Massa Figgins, or de dogs tear yah to pieces," shouted
+Bogey.
+
+"They may tear me limb from limb," returned the orphan "but they shan't
+rob me of my flute."
+
+And without taking the instrument from his lips, off he ran playing
+"Cheer, Boys, Cheer," as he hurried along.
+
+The next moment out rushed several gaunt-looking animals, and gave
+chase to the musical Figgins, urged on by their mad master, who was
+following them.
+
+Bogey waited for him at the gate.
+
+As he came forth puffing, grunting, and blowing, the negro put out his
+foot, and over he went on his nose.
+
+"Go back, massa bag breeches," cried Bogey, fiercely.
+
+He added to the effect of his words by applying a switch he carried to
+the fat hind-quarters of the Turk, who was glad to scramble in at his
+gate on all fours, and shut it to keep out the "special messenger" and
+his cane.
+
+When Bogey came up with Mr. Figgins, he found that usually timid
+personage with his back against a tree, doing battle with his canine
+foes, who were making sad havoc with his Moslem garments.
+
+"Bravo, Massa Figgins," cried Bogey, as he rushed in among the yelping
+pack, "we soon get rid of dese heah."
+
+With this he laid about him with such energy that the Turkish dogs,
+utterly bewildered, dropped their ears, and tucking their tails between
+their legs, slunk howling away, whilst the triumphant orphan
+accompanied their flight with a lively tune on his flute.
+
+Accompanied by Bogey, Mark Antony reached his quarters in safety.
+
+He then promptly paid the price of his instrument, and at once set
+himself steadily to practise, to the great horror of all in the house.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+A week passed. Then the following conversation took place between young
+Jack Harkaway and his comrade Harry Girdwood.
+
+"I say, old fellow, are you fond of music?"
+
+"Well, it all depends what sort of music it is," Jack replied.
+
+"What do you think of Figgins' instrumental performance?"
+
+"Well, I think it's an awful row."
+
+"So do I; but he doesn't seem to think so."
+
+"No; he's always at it; all day long and half through the night; he'll
+blow himself inside his flute if he goes on at this rate. I consider it
+comes under the head of a nuisance."
+
+"Most decidedly," said Jack, "and like other nuisances, must be put a
+stop to."
+
+"All right: let's send for him at once."
+
+Bogey was summoned and dispatched with a polite message from young
+Jack, that he would be glad to speak to him.
+
+On receiving the message, he repaired at once to the room where Jack
+and Harry Girdwood were located, preparing another practical joke for
+the benefit of the orphan.
+
+Mr. Figgins took his flute with him, and too-tooed all the way till he
+reached the door of Jack's room.
+
+For Jack and Harry, it should be mentioned, had followed the orphan to
+his new abode, and secured rooms in the same house.
+
+He entered.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Figgins," said Jack.
+
+Mr. Figgins sat down, nursing his flute.
+
+"I have sent for you," Jack commenced.
+
+"Ah, I see, you wish for a tune," cried the orphan, with much hilarity,
+as he put the flute to his lips and began to play.
+
+"On the contrary," cried Jack, quickly; "it's just what we don't wish
+for; we should be glad if you'd come to a stop."
+
+Mr. Figgins opened his eyes with astonishment.
+
+"Come to a stop," he echoed; "is it possible that you wish to stop my
+flute? Why, I thought you liked music."
+
+"So I do," Jack replied, drily, "when it is music."
+
+"And isn't my flute music? Are not its tones soft and sweet and
+soothing to the spirits?"
+
+"We have found them quite the reverse," Jack assured him; "in fact, if
+you don't put away your flute, you'll drive us both mad, and then I
+wouldn't like to answer for the consequences--which might be awful."
+
+Mr. Figgins looked aghast.
+
+"The idea of such exquisite music as my instrument discourses driving
+anyone mad," he exclaimed at length, "is past belief."
+
+"You may call it exquisite music, but we call it an awful row," Jack
+replied, candidly, "therefore have the goodness to shut up."
+
+The orphan drew himself up and clutched his flute in a kind of
+convulsive indignation.
+
+"I object to shutting up, Mr. Harkaway," he exclaimed, determinately;
+"in fact, I will not shut up. In this dulcet instrument I have found a
+balm for all my woes, and I intend to play it incessantly for the rest
+of my existence."
+
+"You'll blow yourself into a consumption," said Harry Girdwood.
+
+"Well, if I do, I'm only a poor orphan whom no one will regret,"
+returned Mr. Figgins, a tear trickling down his nose at the thought of
+his lonely condition; "I shall die breathing forth some mournful
+melody, and my flute will----"
+
+"You can leave that to us as a legacy, and we'll put it under a glass
+case," said Harry.
+
+"No; my flute shall be buried with me in the silent grave."
+
+"We don't care what you do with it after you're dead," returned Jack,
+"but we object to being annoyed with it while you're alive."
+
+"Oh, you shan't be exposed to any further annoyances on my account,"
+said the orphan, rising grandly; "I and my flute will take our
+departure together."
+
+With these words he left the room, and very shortly afterwards quitted
+the house.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Mr. Figgins being determined to keep apart from the Harkaway party,
+gave up the rooms he had taken, and after some search found another
+lodging in the upper chamber of a house in a retired part of the town.
+
+Here he determined to settle down, and devote himself with more ardour
+than ever to the practice of his favourite instrument.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+It was night.
+
+Mr. Figgins was in bed, but he could get no sleep.
+
+Curious insects, common to Eastern climes, crawled forth from chinks in
+the walls and cracks in the floor, and nibbled the orphan in various
+parts of his anatomy till he felt as if the surface of his skin was one
+large blister.
+
+"What a dreadful climate is this," he murmured, as he sat up in bed;
+"nothing but creeping things everywhere. Phew! what's to be done?"
+
+He reflected a moment.
+
+"I have it!" he exclaimed, "my flute, my precious flute, that will
+soothe me."
+
+Hopping nimbly out of bed, he dressed himself in his European costume,
+seized his instrument, and began a tune.
+
+He had been playing all day long, and the other lodgers in the house
+were congratulating themselves on the cessation of the infliction, when
+suddenly the instrumental torture commenced again.
+
+"Too-too, too-tum-too, tooty-tum, tooty-tum, too-tum-too," went the
+flute, in a more shrill and vigorous manner than ever, whilst a select
+party of dogs, attracted by the melody, assembled under the window and
+howled in concert.
+
+In the chamber next to that occupied by the infatuated Figgins lodged a
+Turk, Bosja by name.
+
+Bosja, in the first place, had no taste for music, and particularly
+detested the sound of a flute.
+
+Secondly, he was suffering from an excruciating toothache, and the
+incessant too-tum, too-tum, tooty-tum-too--with the additional music of
+the dogs--drove him mad.
+
+He was sitting up with his pipe in his mouth, and a green,
+yellow-striped turban pulled down over his ears, trying to shut out the
+sound, but in vain.
+
+"Oh, oh! Allah be merciful to me!" he groaned, as the irritated nerve
+gave him an extra twinge.
+
+"Too-too, too-tum-too, too-tum, too-tum, tooty-tum-too," from the
+orphan's flute answered him.
+
+"Allah confound the wretch with his tooty-tum-too!" growled the
+distracted sufferer; "if he only knew what I am enduring."
+
+But this Mr. Figgins did not know.
+
+Probably he would not have cared if he had known, and he continued to
+pour forth melodious squeakings to his own entire satisfaction.
+
+At length the patience of Bosja was utterly exhausted, and he summoned
+the landlady.
+
+"What son of Shitan have you got in the next room?" he demanded of her,
+fiercely.
+
+"I know very little of him," returned the mistress of the house; "only
+that he is a Frankish gentleman, who dresses sometimes as a Turk, and
+has lately come to lodge here."
+
+"He is a dog, and the son of a dog! May his flute choke him, and his
+father's grave be defiled!" growled the irascible Turk, "tell him to
+leave off, or I will kill him and burn his flute."
+
+The landlady went at once and tapped at the door of the musical lodger.
+
+There was no response save the too-too-too of the flute.
+
+"Signor!" she called after a moment.
+
+"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Figgins from within; "do you wish me
+to come and play you a tune?" and he then continued "too-too,
+tooty-too."
+
+"The gentleman in the next room objects to the sound of your flute."
+
+"Does he?--tooty-too, tooty-too."
+
+"Yes; and he begs you'll leave off."
+
+"I shan't!--tooty-tum, tooty-tum, tooty-too. I intend to play all
+night."
+
+The landlady, having delivered her message, went downstairs.
+
+Mr. Figgins still continued to blow away and the agonized Bosja to
+mutter curses not loud, but deep, upon his head and his instrument.
+
+But patience has its limits, and Bosja, never remarkable for that
+virtue, having sworn all the oaths he knew twice over, at last sprang
+from his bed, and dashing down his pipe, rapped fiercely at the wall.
+
+"What do you want? Shall I come and play a few tunes to you?" inquired
+the orphan, placidly pausing for an instant.
+
+"You vile son of perdition, stop that accursed noise!" shouted the
+Turk.
+
+"Too-too, tooty-too."
+
+"Do you hear, unbelieving dog?"
+
+"Tooty-too--yes, I hear--tooty-tooty-tooty-too."
+
+"Then why don't you stop?"
+
+"Because I intend to go on--too-tum-too--all night"
+
+"But you're driving me to distraction."
+
+"Nonsense; go to bed and sleep--tooty-tum, tooty-tum, tooty-too. You
+will like the beautiful flute in time."
+
+"But I can't sleep with that infernal tooty-too in any ears, and I've
+got the toothache."
+
+"Have it out. You'll feel better."
+
+This cool irony on the part of Mr. Figgins was like oil poured upon the
+fierce temper of the irascible Bosja, and he shouted loudly--
+
+"If I hear any more of that diabolical 'tootum-too,' I swear by Allah
+I'll take your life, and give your body to the crows and vultures."
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed the reckless Figgins. "Tooty-tum, tooty-tum,
+too-tum--"
+
+But before he could finish his musical phrase, the maddened Bosja had
+seized his scimitar, and rushed like a bull at the partition.
+
+The partition was thin, the Turk was burly and thick, and he plunged
+through head first into the orphan's apartment, to the no little
+surprise and dismay of the latter.
+
+It was quite a picture.
+
+Bosja waved his weapon over his head; Mark Antony Figgins hopped upon
+the bed and wrapped himself tightly round in the clothes, clutching his
+flute to his side.
+
+For a moment the pair stood glaring at each other.
+
+"Your flute, vile dog, or your life," shouted the Turk.
+
+"I object to part with either," cried the orphan. "Go and have your
+tooth out, and be happy."
+
+Down came the scimitar with a swish in the direction of his head.
+
+But the grocer had quickly withdrawn it beneath the clothes.
+
+Not to be thwarted, however, in his vengeance, the burly Bosja swooped
+down upon the heap, and dragged them up in his grasp, the orphan
+included.
+
+"Now I have you," he cried, as he seized the obnoxious flute.
+
+"Give me my instrument, infidel," shrieked the orphan, as he threw off
+the blanket, and clung to the flute with desperation.
+
+At the same moment, he recognised the green and yellow-striped turban
+on the head of the Turk.
+
+It was Bosja into whose hands it had fallen, when Mr. Figgins was
+escaping from the mob.
+
+"That is my turban," he cried, as with one hand he dragged it from his
+enemy's head, with dauntless vehemence, and bringing his flute down
+with a smart crack on the Turk's bald pate.
+
+The Turk, who was much more of a bully than a hero, was quite
+confounded at the excited energy which the Frankish lodger displayed.
+Dropping his scimitar, he then had a struggle for the flute.
+
+Round the room they went, pulling and hauling.
+
+At length, lurching against the door, it burst open.
+
+The combatants now found themselves on the landing.
+
+Here the struggle continued, till, at length, giving a desperate tug,
+the flute came in half, and Bosja fell backwards, head over heels, down
+the stairs, with the upper joint of the instrument in his hand.
+
+The landlady, who thought the house was falling, came hurrying to see
+what had happened, and found the Turk lying in a heap at the bottom of
+the stairs, with the breath almost knocked out of his body.
+
+It took some time to bring him to himself.
+
+It was just as he was recovering there was a loud knocking at the
+street door.
+
+On opening it, a body of Turkish soldiers appeared drawn up in front of
+it.
+
+"What is the cause of this disturbance?" inquired the leader of the
+troop.
+
+Bosja quickly gave his own version of what had happened.
+
+Of course, it was highly exaggerated.
+
+He, a true believer, had been assaulted, robbed of his turban, and
+thrown downstairs by a rascally dog of a Giaour, who lodged in a room
+next to him.
+
+This was quite sufficient to arouse the indignation of the officer,
+and, with three of his troop, that functionary ascended to seize the
+delinquent.
+
+But, on reaching the room, it was discovered to be empty.
+
+"The Frankish hound laughs at our beards," said the officer. "He has
+escaped by the window."
+
+And such had been the intention of Mark Antony Figgins.
+
+But not being accustomed to such perilous descents, he had found
+himself baffled in his flight, and was now perched on a ledge, half way
+between the window and the ground, unable either to proceed or to
+return.
+
+He was soon espied by the soldiers, and a shout announced his
+detection.
+
+A ladder was quickly procured, and the luckless orphan very shortly
+found himself a prisoner.
+
+"What dirt have you been eating?" demanded the officer, sternly.
+
+"I haven't been eating dirt at all," returned the indignant Figgins,
+"but I believe that fat Turk has swallowed half of my flute."
+
+Bosja came forward at this with the missing portion in his hand, and
+handed it to the officer.
+
+The orphan made a snatch at it, but received only a box on the ear from
+the officer.
+
+The other half of his cherished instrument was wrested from him, and he
+marched off to the lock-up until the case could be tried on the morrow
+before the bashaw.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+HOW THE FLUTE ADVENTURE TERMINATED.
+
+
+The morrow had come.
+
+Hearing that a Frank was to be tried, the court was crowded.
+
+At the appointed hour Mark Antony Figgins, looking particularly
+doleful, was conducted from his cell to the presence of the
+administrator of the law.
+
+Osman, the ruling bashaw, although a Turk, was a regular Tartar to deal
+with.
+
+He administered plenty of law, but very little justice; if the latter
+was required, money was the bashaw's idol, and it must be handsomely
+paid for.
+
+As soon as the parties were brought in, the judicial potentate eyed
+them sternly for some time.
+
+Then he said--
+
+"Which is the plaintiff?"
+
+"I am," exclaimed Bosja.
+
+"No; I am," exclaimed Mr. Figgins.
+
+"What bosh is this?" cried the bashaw; "you can't both be plaintiffs."
+
+"Most high and mighty, he robbed me of my turban and knocked me down
+stairs," affirmed Bosja.
+
+"No, your worship; he robbed me of my turban and stole half my flute,"
+protested the orphan.
+
+The official dignitary frowned and shut his eyes reflectively.
+
+He foresaw that he had a case of unusual intricacy before him, and he
+was thinking how he should deal with it.
+
+After a moment he opened his eyes, rubbed his nose profoundly, and
+sneezed.
+
+All the officials imitated their superior by rubbing their noses and
+sneezing in concert.
+
+The uproar was tremendous.
+
+Order being at length restored, the bashaw fixed his eyes upon Bosja,
+and said to him--
+
+"Let me hear what you have to say."
+
+"It is this. Your slave last night was troubled with the toothache, and
+retired to his couch. The pain kept me awake, and just as I was going
+to sleep--"
+
+"Stop!" cried the bashaw; "you say that the pain kept you awake, and
+then you say you were going to sleep. You couldn't be awake and asleep
+at the same time."
+
+A hum of applause ran round the court at this sagacious remark.
+
+"He speaks the words of wisdom," murmured some.
+
+"What a lawyer he is," whispered others.
+
+"I had been awake for some hours," explained Bosja, "when the pain
+lulled a little, and I began to doze."
+
+"Well, you began to doze, and then?"
+
+"Then I was disturbed by a dreadful squeaking noise in the next room."
+
+"A rat?"
+
+"No, your highness; a flute."
+
+"That was my flute, your worship," cried the indignant orphan; "whose
+dulcet tone he calls a dreadful sque----"
+
+"Silence, dog," shouted the bashaw.
+
+"Silence," shouted everyone else.
+
+"Continue," said the judge to Bosja.
+
+"I endured the dreadful sound as long as I could, until the anguish of
+my tooth became so great I could bear it no longer, and I sent a civil
+messenger to the Frank yonder to cease."
+
+"And he complied with your request?"
+
+"Not he, your mightiness. He played all the louder, and the dreadful
+noise he made nearly killed me."
+
+"I was in my own room, your worship," interposed Mr. Figgins, "and had
+a right to play as loud as I liked."
+
+The bashaw here referred to his vizier.
+
+"What says the law?" he asked, in a low tone. "Does it permit a man to
+do what he likes in his own room?"
+
+The vizier scratched his nose and reflected.
+
+All the officials scratched their noses and reflected.
+
+After a moment the vizier replied--
+
+"It all depends, most wise and illustrious. If the owner of the room be
+a true believer, he may turn it upside down if he please, not else."
+
+"Good; and this flute-player is an infidel--a dog."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir, I'm a retired grocer," put in Figgins, who
+overheard the remark.
+
+"Silence," growled the bashaw; "go on, plaintiff."
+
+"Well, your highness," continued Bosja, "I continued to get worse and
+worse under this dreadful 'too-tooting', until at last, driven to
+desperation, I sprang from my bed, and hammered at the wall, imploring
+him to be quiet."
+
+"And he still refused?"
+
+"He did, your mightiness."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"I was imploring Allah to soften his unmerciful heart, when suddenly he
+burst through the partition, which was thin----"
+
+"No, no, no, your worship," interrupted Mr. Figgins, vehemently, "it
+was he who burst through, not me."
+
+"Silence," cried the bashaw; "dare not to interrupt the words of
+truth."
+
+"But they're not words of truth, your worship; they're
+abominable--false."
+
+"Silence, dog," shouted the potentate, crimson with anger.
+
+"Silence, dog," echoed the rest of the judicial body.
+
+"Continue, plaintiff."
+
+"Well, your highness," went on Bosja, "he then seized me violently,
+tore my turban from my head, and endeavoured to thrust his diabolical,
+'too-tooing' instrument down my throat."
+
+"To which you objected?"
+
+"Strongly, your highness. I seized the flute in self-defence, and it
+came in half in my hand, and he then dragged me from the room, and with
+gigantic strength, hurled me backwards down the stairs."
+
+"Allah Kerin, it was a mercy your back was not broken," exclaimed the
+bashaw.
+
+"I feel sore all over, your highness," said Bosja, ruefully, "and fear
+I am seriously injured."
+
+"And the culprit was endeavouring to escape, was he not?" asked the
+judge.
+
+"He was, your mightiness, when my soldiers discovered him clinging to
+the wall," replied the officer of the soldiers.
+
+"Wallah thaih, it is well said."
+
+The bashaw conferred again with his vizier for a moment, and then,
+turning towards the luckless Figgins, who found himself changed from
+the plaintiff into the defendant, he said to him sternly--
+
+"And now, unbelieving dog, what have you to say?"
+
+"Only this," the orphan replied, without hesitation; "that that witness
+has uttered a tissue of abominable lies."
+
+"I have spoken naught but the truth," exclaimed the unblushing Bosja,
+solemnly. "Bashem ustun, upon my head be it."
+
+"Well, let us hear what account you have to give," said the bashaw to
+the defendant.
+
+"My account is very simple," said Figgins. "I was playing my flute,
+when that Turk insisted on my stopping. I considered I had a right to
+do as I liked in my own apartment and refused."
+
+"You had no right to do as you liked."
+
+"What, not in my own chamber that I had paid for?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+Mr. Figgins shook his clenched fist fiercely in the air at this
+extraordinary declaration.
+
+"There's neither law nor justice here," he cried, indignantly. "In
+England----"
+
+"You're not in England, dog," shouted the bashaw, "you're in Turkey."
+
+The orphan felt painfully at that moment that he was.
+
+"I don't care how soon I'm out of such a miserable den of thieves and
+rogues," he said.
+
+"What does the fellow say?" demanded the bashaw, who did not quite
+understand all the orphan said.
+
+"He says his face will be whitened by the rays of your highness's
+wisdom, the like to which he has never before seen," the vizier
+interpreted.
+
+"Umph!" growled his superior.
+
+Then addressing himself once more to the defendant, he said--
+
+"Go on."
+
+"Well, in the midst of my practice that fat Turk burst through the
+partition of my room, scimitar in hand. The first thing I saw on his
+head was my turban, which I lost a week ago. I seized my own
+property----"
+
+"Inshallah!" shouted the bashaw, "this fellow is telling the same story
+as the other. He is laughing at our beards and making us eat dirt. I'll
+hear no more."
+
+"But, your worship----"
+
+"I'll hear no more!" shouted the judge. "I find him guilty on all
+points."
+
+"But my flute----"
+
+"Your flute is forfeited."
+
+The orphan uttered a cry of despair.
+
+"My flute that cost me twenty-five pounds only a week since," he wailed
+dolefully.
+
+The bashaw pricked up his ears at these words.
+
+A man who could afford to give twenty-five pounds for a flute must be
+possessed of property.
+
+The scales of justice quivered whilst he whispered to his vizier--
+
+"This Frank is rich, is he not?"
+
+"Heaven forbid that I should venture to dispute your highness's
+opinion. Most of his countrymen are so," the subordinate replied.
+
+"Let us see."
+
+Looking towards the agitated grocer, the bashaw said, in a modified
+tone--
+
+"The law pronounces you guilty. Still, in our mercy and clemency, we
+incline to show you favour. Your flute, for which it seems you paid
+twenty-five pounds, is forfeited; but, for another twenty-five you may
+redeem it."
+
+The orphan was dreadfully indignant.
+
+"What!" he cried, "pay twice over for what's my own property? I won't
+pay another farthing, you pot-bellied old humbug."
+
+"What does he say?" asked the bashaw of his vizier; "does he consent?"
+
+The interpreter turned slightly green with dismay as he stammered in
+reply--
+
+"He expresses himself utterly overpowered by the--the--splendour of
+your highness's magnificent condescension; but--a--a--at the same time
+he is not at the present moment able to a--avail himself of it."
+
+"You mean to say he has no sufficient funds--is that it?"
+
+"Yes, your highness."
+
+The disappointed bashaw uttered an angry grunt, and looking savagely at
+the prisoner, said to him--
+
+"Since you can't pay, you must----"
+
+"I can pay," shouted the orphan, in a furiously indignant tone; "but I
+won't."
+
+The bashaw grinned at him like a fiend, and demanding the flute to be
+handed to him, held it up before the eyes of the whole court.
+
+"Be witness all," he exclaimed, "that yonder obstinate Frank despises
+our clemency, and refuses to redeem this flute, his property."
+
+"That flute is not his property, it is mine," cried a voice from the
+crowd.
+
+At the same moment a portly Turk, in a red fez cap, pressed forward.
+
+He was recognised at once as Kallum Beg, a Turk of distinction, but who
+at times had to be treated as a madman.
+
+"That flute is mine, O noble bashaw!" he repeated.
+
+The judge winked and blinked, and seemed greatly perplexed at this
+unexpected declaration.
+
+"Yours?" he echoed, at length.
+
+"Yes, your highness. I was robbed of it a week since."
+
+"And that lying son of Shitan told us he bought it for twenty-five
+pounds."
+
+"So I did," protested the orphan.
+
+"Silence!" roared the bashaw, "you have made us eat nothing but dirt.
+You know you stole it."
+
+Then turning to the rightful owner of the instrument, he said to him--
+
+"Kallum Beg, the flute is yours. Still as you contradicted me in the
+open court, declaring it to be your property, when I had declared it to
+be the property of another, you are fined fifty sequins."
+
+The Turk grunted, and shrugged his shoulders, for each of which
+offences he was instantly fined an additional fifty sequins, making a
+hundred and fifty. There being no appeal, the fine was paid and Kallum
+Beg received his flute.
+
+"And now," continued the bashaw, "let that unbelieving dog receive
+twenty strokes of the bastinado, on the soles of his feet."
+
+In an instant the orphan was jerked off his legs, and placed flat on
+the ground.
+
+The executioner stepped forward, and having removed his slippers,
+flourished his cane.
+
+"Begin," cried the judge.
+
+Swish fell the bamboo upon the orphan's naked feet.
+
+The pain was so exquisite that the victim shrieked "Murder!" at the top
+of his voice.
+
+The bashaw grinned from ear to ear.
+
+"Perhaps the prisoner would rather pay than suffer," he said, after a
+moment.
+
+"Yes, yes, I would," cried Mr. Figgins, desperately; "a great deal
+rather. How much?"
+
+"Ten sequins a stroke. A hundred and ninety sequins in all."
+
+"I'll pay the sum. Oh, why did I ever leave delightful London?" said
+the grocer.
+
+"Raise him!" said the bashaw.
+
+The victim was lifted up, and a messenger dispatched with a note to
+young Jack Harkaway to forward the orphan's cash-box.
+
+In a short time the man returned, and the box was at once handed over
+to the bashaw, who having received the key, helped himself at once to
+double the sum he had demanded.
+
+"Now I suppose I'm at liberty," said Mr. Figgins, glancing, wistfully
+at his cash box.
+
+"Not just yet," returned the grasping judge, who having the money in
+his possession, was resolved to appropriate as much as possible.
+
+"I'm inclined to think that you have been unjustly accused. I therefore
+permit you as a particular favour to avenge yourself upon Bosja. You
+must fight with him, kill him if you can, and I shall not hold you
+responsible."
+
+The orphan looked unutterable things at this permission, whilst Bosja,
+who was a great coward at heart, turned all manner of colours.
+
+"Your mightiness----" he began.
+
+But the bashaw cut him short.
+
+"You are fined fifty sequins for speaking when you are not spoken to,"
+he cried; "treasurer, collect the money."
+
+But Bosja had not a single coin left.
+
+"Then he must go to prison," said the judge, sternly; "but not till
+after he has fought with the man he has falsely accused."
+
+"I've no wish to fight. I want to go home," exclaimed Mr. Figgins.
+
+"You're fined another fifty sequins," remarked the bashaw, blandly;
+"for not wishing to fight when I say you are to fight."
+
+Whilst the judge dipped once more into the cash-box, the executioner
+went for weapons, and shortly reappeared with a couple of enormous
+scimitars, which he placed in the hands of the combatants.
+
+A dead silence fell upon the eager crowd, who longed for the fight to
+commence.
+
+"Are you ready?" demanded the bashaw.
+
+"N-n-n-no, I'm not," faltered the orphan, whose ferocity had entirely
+disappeared with the loss of his flute; "I'm not a fighting man, and I
+don't like fighting with swords--I might get hurt. I would rather
+forgive Mr. Bosja than kill him."
+
+His opponent evinced his satisfaction at this humane proposal by a
+ghastly smile.
+
+But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with terror, and he said
+nothing.
+
+But the bashaw was not to be thwarted in this manner.
+
+"It is my will that you fight," he said, in a determined tone; "and
+fight you must, or each find a substitute."
+
+The combatants strained their eyes eagerly amongst the crowd.
+
+But no one volunteered to take their places.
+
+Suddenly Mr. Figgins caught sight of a black figure that was
+pantomiming to him very eagerly in the distance.
+
+A flash of joy rushed across his troubled spirit.
+
+It was Tinker.
+
+He could judge by his actions he was ready to take his place, and
+therefore he exclaimed aloud--
+
+"I've found a substitute."
+
+"Where?" demanded the bashaw, looking intensely disappointed.
+
+"Here de dustibute," shouted Tinker, in reply; "make way, you
+whitey-brown Turkies, an' let de rale colour come forrards."
+
+As he spoke, he elbowed his way through the crowd till he reached the
+space in front of the seat of justice.
+
+Here he shook hands with Mr. Figgins, and nodded as familiarly to the
+bashaw as though he had been a particular friend of his.
+
+"What son of Jehanum is that?" growled the bashaw, scowling fiercely at
+Tinker.
+
+"He is my substitute," exclaimed the grocer.
+
+"Is he? And do you know what you must pay to be allowed to make use of
+him?" asked the bashaw.
+
+"No, you old thief, I don't," said Figgins, softly; then aloud--"how
+much?"
+
+"Two hundred sequins," said the judge.
+
+"Oh, certainly," assented the orphan; "no doubt you intend to empty my
+box before you let me go."
+
+This restored the complacency of the bashaw, who, having by this last
+demand used up all the grocer's cash, finished by taking possession of
+his cash-box to carry it away in.
+
+Having locked it safely up, he cried--
+
+"I wish to be amused. Let the fight commence at once."
+
+Tinker received a scimitar from the hands of Mr. Figgins, and
+flourished it gaily round his head.
+
+Bosja, who could not afford to pay for a substitute, made a great
+effort to pull himself together for the strife, but he looked very
+white, and his teeth chattered audibly.
+
+"Now, slaves, begin," exclaimed the judge.
+
+Tinker gave a semi-savage yell, just to encourage his opponent, and
+then, with a most ferocious grin on his dark face, he sprang forward.
+
+Bosja, scared out of his wits, struck wildly at random.
+
+His scimitar came in contact with nothing but air, whilst Tinker gave
+him a slight prod with his sabre's point in the region of his baggy
+breeches.
+
+Bosja felt it, and believing himself seriously wounded, uttered a
+doleful howl.
+
+The crowd applauded.
+
+Tinker hopped round him as nimbly as a tomtit or a jackdaw, and
+presently gave him another little taste of his steel.
+
+    [Illustration: "TINKER HOPPED ROUND HIM NIMBLY, AND GAVE HIM
+    ANOTHER TASTE OF THE STEEL."--TINKER. VOL. II.]
+
+Bosja, fully impressed with the idea that he was bleeding to death,
+began to grow desperate.
+
+Grasping his scimitar more firmly, he rushed in at his sable antagonist,
+but Tinker, by a skilful manoeuvre, locked his hilt in that of his
+foe's weapon, and wrested it from his hand, following up his advantage
+with a smart tap on Bosja's skull with the flat of his blade.
+
+This was a settler for the Turk, who, under the pleasing conviction
+that his brains were knocked out, uttered a piteous groan, and fell
+fainting on the ground.
+
+The spectators did not appear to relish the defeat of their countryman,
+and loud murmurs of discontent burst forth, in the midst of which the
+bashaw rose.
+
+"Stop the fight, and arrest the murderer," he cried.
+
+Several of the soldiers and a few of the spectators advanced with
+alacrity to obey the order, but Tinker suddenly delivered one of his
+startling war whoops and flourished a glittering scimitar in each of
+his hands.
+
+Everyone stopped.
+
+It seemed prudent to do so, for the negro grinned and gnashed his teeth
+like a dark demoniac, as he sharpened his weapons one upon the other,
+preparatory to some deadly work of destruction.
+
+Having performed this operation, he cried--
+
+"Now de amputashun goin' to begin!" and uttering another terrible yell,
+dashed in amongst the guards.
+
+The soldiers, astonished and appalled, dropped their weapons and fled
+from the court, calling upon the Prophet to save them from the wild
+fiend.
+
+Having got rid of the soldiers, Tinker tripped up Kallum Beg, and
+wresting his flute from his hand, helped that worthy individual to
+creep out on his hands and knees by the wholesome stimulant of the
+points of his two scimitars.
+
+Next he sprang amongst the spectators, shrieking and flourishing his
+weapons.
+
+What with the clash of the steel and the hideous outcry he made, the
+Moslem crowd were beside themselves with terror.
+
+Struggling, shouting, and declaring that the devil himself was let
+loose, among them, they fought, and scratched, and pulled off turbans,
+and tumbled over each other till they reached the door.
+
+The court was cleared.
+
+All but the bashaw and his principal ministers, who still congregated
+round the judgment seat, blue with terror.
+
+"Seize him! seize the imp of Jehanum!"
+
+"Allah preserve me!" cried the potentate, who was holding on
+tenaciously to the vizier.
+
+But the vizier made no attempt to obey his superior.
+
+He was clinging to another vizier, imploring Allah to preserve him.
+
+Up sprang Tinker, yelling and waving his sword.
+
+"'Ssassinashun! spifl'cashun! string'lashun to de 'ole lot ob yah!" he
+shouted.
+
+The officials did not wait to be operated upon.
+
+"Look after the cash-box," gasped the bashaw, as he waddled down the
+steps.
+
+The rest followed, forgetting everything but their own personal safety.
+
+The cash box was left behind.
+
+Tinker pounced upon it.
+
+"'Ooray!" he shouted, triumphantly; "him got de flute and de cash-box
+as well. Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
+
+Quick as lightning he rushed to the door.
+
+At the entrance he encountered the bashaw, who had discovered his loss.
+
+"Son of perdition, give me my property," he cried.
+
+Tinker gave it him immediately--on his head.
+
+The effect was stunning.
+
+Down went the "Cream of Justice" and the "Flower of wisdom" senseless
+to the ground.
+
+Tinker sprang over him, and hurried away with the swiftness of a deer.
+
+The orphan had long since taken his flight.
+
+But, to his great joy, he received from the brave negro not only his
+coin, but what he prized more--his flute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+MR. MOLE'S LETTER--A TRIP ASHORE--THE TURKISH BAZAAR--A MUSSULMAN
+SLIPPER MERCHANT--WONDER ON WONDERS--BY THE PIPER THAT PLAYED BEFORE
+MOSES, AN IRISH TURK.
+
+
+It is now high time to give Mr. Mole's letter which threw young Jack
+Harkaway and his friend Harry Girdwood into such a state of excitement.
+
+Here it is verbatim.
+
+    "MY DEAR BOY JACK,--The prolonged silence you have kept has
+    rendered your absence a matter of serious moment to us all here,
+    and to me more than all; I can bear it no longer. I intend to come
+    in search of you and see for myself what keeps your tongue tied.
+    Ah, I mean to rout you out and give a sharp eye to your
+    shortcomings. Expect me then soon, for I hope to run athwart you,
+    yardarm and yardarm, as an old salt we once knew used to say.
+
+    "Believe me, my dear Jack,
+
+    "Ever sincerely yours,
+
+    "ISAAC MOLE.
+
+    "P.S.--I am told that the native liquors where you are staying are
+    more cheering than inebriating in their effects. This will suit me
+    capitally; but as you and your companions may find sherbet rather
+    thin diet, I shall bring with me a bottle or two of something with
+    a more decided flavour."
+
+"I tell you what," said Jack to his comrade Harry, "we shall have to
+look out for poor old Mole. We must send word back by special courier,
+that he may know what direction we have taken."
+
+Messages were sent by sure hands to the different stations which they
+had made upon their journey, to guide Mr. Mole to the place Jack and
+Harry were stopping at.
+
+"Meanwhile my only recommendation is, young gentlemen, that you don't
+get yourselves embroiled in any way with the native folks here any
+more. The Mussulmen are fierce and fanatical, and the least provocation
+may make them burst out into wildness."
+
+The speaker was Captain Deering, and the occasion of it was the eve of
+another projected trip by Jack Harkaway and Harry Girdwood.
+
+"We shall be careful, captain," said the latter.
+
+"Of course," said Deering, with a merry twinkling in his eye; "you
+always are."
+
+"Always."
+
+"There's not much to fear, captain," said Jack, lightly.
+
+"Oh, yes, there is," responded Deering, quickly, "very much."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, very little will provoke a Mussulman when he has to deal with a
+Christian."
+
+"But no one would be indelicate enough to show a want of respect to
+their religious scruples," answered Harry.
+
+"I don't see how we can interfere with them at all," said Jack. "Why
+should the question of religion be raised?"
+
+"Not by you," returned Captain Deering, "but by them, for they will at
+any time unite to fall upon an unlucky Christian if opposed to a
+Mussulman in a dispute, should the Turk choose to invoke their aid
+against the unbelievers, as they stigmatise the Christians."
+
+"Well, captain," said Jack, who jibbed at being lectured, "you need not
+fear for us; we shall be careful enough."
+
+"No doubt, Master Jack," returned the captain, drily. "You're a mild
+spring chicken, you are; it is only that wild, rampagious companion of
+yours that I want you to look after."
+
+Saying which, he left the two boys to their own devices.
+
+"That's a nasty jar," said Harry, with a chuckle.
+
+Tinker and Bogey were their only companions.
+
+Jack and Harry had taken the orphan once more under their protection
+since his narrow escape from the trial he had passed through with the
+bashaw, and hearing from the orphan the description of the Turk he had
+bought his dress from, they resolved to pay him a visit.
+
+In the bazaar there were Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Arabs, and a motley
+collection of coloured people.
+
+The Turkish dealers sat at their stalls, pushing trade in a taciturn
+manner, speaking little, it is true, but when they did make a remark,
+it was to tell lies with earnest gravity about their wares.
+
+"If you could only speak Turkish as glibly as you did to Mr. Figgins,"
+said Harry Girdwood, "you should go and cheapen a fez for me, Jack."
+
+"I could manage that, Harry," replied Jack.
+
+"No, no," said Harry; "remember what the poor orphan suffered through
+buying his Turkish dress."
+
+"Bother that," returned Jack. "Let's go and have a lark with that chap
+selling the slippers."
+
+"Be careful."
+
+There were several slipper vendors present.
+
+Jack picked up a pair of slippers and inquired the price.
+
+The dealer gave him an odd look.
+
+Jack looked round to Harry Girdwood for assistance.
+
+"I can't help you," returned Harry. "Ask him again."
+
+"What's the figure, old Turkey rhubarb?" asked Jack, bowing as if
+paying the merchant a compliment.
+
+The Turk replied with the same gravity.
+
+"He don't appear to understand," said Harry Girdwood. "Try him in St.
+Giles's Greek?"
+
+"What's the damage for the brace of trotter boxes, old Flybynight?"
+demanded young Harkaway, looking as solemn as a judge.
+
+The Turkish merchant repeated the price in his native tongue, and they
+made no progress in their deal.
+
+While they were thus engaged, who should come into the bazaar but Nat
+Cringle, and with him their old friend the Irish diver?
+
+"I'll put it to him. Mayhap he'll understand me. What an illigant ould
+thafe it is," said the diver, when he had waited some time for a reply.
+
+"Why don't ye answer, ye dirrty ould spalpeen?" he demanded, after a
+pause. "Be gorra, av ye don't sphake, I'll give ye one wid my twig."
+
+Saying which, he flourished his shillelagh before the slipper
+merchant's face, and then gave him a smart tap on his head.
+
+The grave old Turk then found his tongue, and the reply was such a
+startler, that the four travellers were knocked off their moral
+equilibrium.
+
+"Tare and 'ounds, ye blackyard omadhauns! Ye thavin' Saxin vaggybones!
+ave ye'd only thread on the tail av me coat, so as to give me a
+gintlemanly excuse for blackin' yer squintin' eyes, I'd knock yez into
+next Monday week, the blessed lot av yez!"
+
+The four visitors stared at each other in wonder.
+
+They had not a word to say for themselves.
+
+No wonder that it took their breath away.
+
+The Irish diver was the first to find his tongue.
+
+"By the blessed piper that played before Moses, here's an Irish Turk!"
+
+"Stop that!" ejaculated the slipper merchant; "av ye call me names,
+I'll have a go at yez av ye was as big as a house."
+
+"Ye're Paddy from Cork," retorted the diver.
+
+"Niver," protested the merchant, stoutly.
+
+"Get along wid yez," retorted the diver, "ye Mahommedan Mormonite; now
+I'll take short odds to any amount up to a farden that that brogue came
+from Galway. Tell the truth, and shame the ould gintleman as shall be
+nameless."
+
+The Turk had an inward struggle, and then he confessed. He was an
+Irishman, settled for some years in Turkey.
+
+"But devil a word must ye say. Ye'll spoil me shop entirely," he said,
+"av the folks hereabout takes me for a Christian gintleman, and I shall
+be kilt intirely."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+PADDY MAHMOUD PLAYS THE PASHA--LOCAL STATISTICS--VISIT TO THE
+KONAKI--HOSPITALITY VERSUS AL KORAN.
+
+
+The Irish Turk contrived, after some talk, that our friends should
+procure an entry into the palace of the pasha.
+
+"Back stairs infloonce, me boys," said the Irish Turk, with a wink, "is
+an illigant institooshn, and is jist as privlint here, sorrs, as it is
+in St. James's or at the castle."
+
+"How do you work it?"
+
+"I have my own particular pals, which shall be nameless, at the pasha's
+palace."
+
+"Officers?"
+
+The Irish Turk looked very demure and replied--
+
+"Not exactly officers; officeresses, ye understand."
+
+"You're a terrible Turk, Paddy," laughed young Jack.
+
+"When shall we be able to get over the palace?" demanded Harry
+Girdwood.
+
+"Come to me in the course of to-morrow afternoon," said the Irish Turk.
+
+"We will."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+This arranged, they strolled through the bazaar, trading and bartering
+with the dealers, and making an odd collection of purchases, to take
+home as curiosities.
+
+But of all the curiosities, the most remarkable was perhaps a pair of
+real Egyptian mummies, which they discovered in the possession of a
+shrewd and greedy old Arab.
+
+"We shall have quite an extensive museum," said Jack.
+
+"Blessed if I care to see a brace o' stiff uns on board," growled Nat
+Cringle.
+
+"We shall not for the present take them on board," said Jack; "we shall
+first take them to our rooms. We shall find some use for the mummies,
+eh, Harry?"
+
+"I believe you, my boy," said Harry. "We'll name the mummies Mole and
+the orphan. Ha, ha!"
+
+Well, that same afternoon, as agreed upon, young Jack and Harry
+Girdwood presented themselves at the residence of the Irish Turk, Paddy
+Mahmoud Ben Flannigan, as the boys had christened him.
+
+They had got themselves up _a la Turc_.
+
+Tinker and his attendant Bogey were also suitably attired.
+
+They found the Irishman seated upon the floor with his legs under him.
+
+He arose as the guests entered, and advanced to greet them politely.
+
+"Make yourselves at home, gentlemen," he said, "and say what'll ye take
+before we get along."
+
+Jack tipped the wink to his companion.
+
+"I'd like a little nip of something to cure the belly-ache," he
+answered slily.
+
+"Ye can have that same," responded their host.
+
+He went to a cupboard, and produced a stumpy, but capacious bottle, and
+three glasses.
+
+"Whatever is that?" said Harry, in affected surprise.
+
+"A drop of the crater," responded Paddy Mahmoud, pouring it out.
+
+"Here's your health," said Harry Girdwood.
+
+The two lads nodded at their host, and sipped.
+
+The Irish Turk tossed off his whisky at a gulp.
+
+"When shall you be ready to go up to the palace?" asked Jack.
+
+"All in good time," returned the host. "In the first place, it is not
+called the palace."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"The Konaki."
+
+"Konaki!"
+
+"That's it. Now I'll show you exactly how to conduct yourselves when
+you are presented at court," he said.
+
+Three servants entered, carrying three pipes, each of the same size,
+and each having jewelled amber mouth-pieces.
+
+The servants drew themselves up like automatons, each placing his right
+hand on his heart.
+
+The next moment they were inhaling their first draught of some
+wonderful tobacco, the host keeping up the traditional Turkish custom
+of puffing half a minute or so before the guests.
+
+When they had puffed away in silence for some little time, the servants
+returned.
+
+One of them carried a crimson napkin, richly embroidered with gold,
+thrown over his left shoulder.
+
+And others carried a coffee tray, upon which were cups of elegant
+filagree work.
+
+Each of the guests were presented with a cup of coffee--not very nice
+according to our notions, being thick, unstrained and unsweetened.
+
+Yet the Turks are considered the only people who really understand the
+art of making coffee.
+
+This disposed of, the servants retired.
+
+"Now," says the host, "that's just what ye'll have to do when you go up
+to the Konaki, to be, so to speak, presented at court. When you go
+visiting his excellency the pasha on any business, no matter how
+pressing it may be, you mustn't speak of it until the pipes and the
+coffee have been got through. You have only to observe this little
+customary bit of etiquette, and all will go on merrily as a marriage
+bell."
+
+"Have you ever seen the pasha yourself?" asked Jack.
+
+"Often."
+
+"What's he like?"
+
+"Every inch a gentleman."
+
+This rather surprised them.
+
+"Now let's come off, and you shall see over the Konaki."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+THE JOYS OF THE SERAGLIO--A GROUP OF PEEPING THOMASES--THE CIRCASSIAN
+SLAVES--TINKER AND BOGEY ARE IN FOR IT--THE ALARM--ATTEMPTED
+RESCUE--AWAY WITH THEM--THE IRISHMAN TELLS A FEW WHITE ONES TO A
+PURPOSE.
+
+
+The slipper merchant had selected a favourable moment for their visit
+to the Konaki.
+
+The pasha--or to speak more correctly, the pasha's deputy, for it was
+the deputy that had imposed upon the poor orphan--was absent from the
+house temporarily, and so they were able to walk about whither they
+listed, thanks to the backstairs influence of which their friend and
+guide had boasted.
+
+The head of the pasha's household was the person to whom they owed this
+unusual privilege.
+
+There was not a great deal to see in the Konaki now that they were
+there, and their visit would probably have been cut very short had they
+not been attracted by sounds of distant music just as they were upon
+the point of leaving.
+
+"What's that?" said Jack.
+
+"That's from the seraglio," returned their conductor; "some Circassian
+girls that have just been sent as a present to the pasha are very
+clever dancers, it is said."
+
+Jack pricked up his ears at this.
+
+"Come on," he said, moving forward briskly.
+
+"To this seraglio?"
+
+"Aye."
+
+"Why, you rash boy," said the Irish Turk, with a frightened look, "do
+you know what you are talking about?"
+
+"Well, yes, I think so," said Jack; "dancing Circassian girls and the
+seraglio was the topic of the conversation, unless I am wandering in my
+mind."
+
+"Faith, ye must be mad," said the Irishman, gravely; "why, they'd think
+hanging too good for any man that even looked at the harem."
+
+"So should I," returned Jack; "I've no wish to be hanged; it's too good
+for me. Come on."
+
+"Don't be foolish; it's death, if we're caught."
+
+"All right," said Jack, cheerfully; "it's sure then that we mustn't be
+caught, but I don't mean to miss the chance all the same."
+
+The Irishman resisted stoutly.
+
+But Jack was more obstinate than he was, and so the Irishman was forced
+to yield a point.
+
+"I know where there's a gallery that overlooks the harem, and you can
+see all the fun of the fair without being observed."
+
+"You seem to know the place very well," said Jack.
+
+"Very."
+
+"But of course you have never been to this identical gallery before?"
+said Jack, innocently.
+
+"Never--never."
+
+His eagerness to impress this upon them told its own tale.
+
+"I should think that's true, Jack," said Harry, demurely.
+
+"Oh, yes, quite," said Jack, winking at Harry.
+
+The Irishman led the way along a paved passage, at the end of which was
+an arched entrance to an apartment, closed off only by a heavy curtain.
+
+"You see that curtain?" whispered their guide.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"That's the harem."
+
+"Come on, then," said Jack, eagerly.
+
+"Stop, stop!" exclaimed the Irishman. "The other side of the curtain
+are two----"
+
+Before he could complete the sentence, the curtain was dragged aside,
+and two armed negroes appeared.
+
+Their appearance was sudden and startling.
+
+Each carried a drawn sword, a scimitar of formidable size.
+
+They looked about as ugly customers as you would wish to see.
+
+"Two eunuchs," whispered the Irishman, "they are guarding the seraglio.
+Come away."
+
+"Ugly enough for heathen gods," whispered Harry Girdwood.
+
+The two eunuchs stood like statues on guard.
+
+The slipper merchant said something to them in Turkish which appeared
+to satisfy them.
+
+"Massa Jack," whispered Tinker, who was one of the party, tugging at
+his young master's sleeve, "Massa Jack."
+
+"What now?"
+
+"Dat one ob de beasts what chuck de pusson in de water alive in de
+sack, sar."
+
+"What!" ejaculated Harry Girdwood.
+
+"Fack, Massa Harry," said Tinker, stoutly. "Guess I know dat ugly brack
+niggar, sar, a tousan' mile off--beast!"
+
+"Come on. Don't appear to notice them," said the Irishman. "It's
+awkward work now. If they had half a suspicion, they would drop on us
+right and left, and not leave a limb on either one of our blessed
+bodies."
+
+He led the way until they came to a gallery that overlooked the
+seraglio.
+
+Their leader now warned them to keep silent.
+
+In the chamber below were about a dozen Turkish ladies, all unveiled.
+
+They were all gorgeously attired, and lolling about in indolent
+attitudes, as if life were an indescribable bore to them.
+
+Upon a square fringed carpet in the middle of the room a Circassian
+girl of rare beauty and perfect symmetry was gliding through a graceful
+dance, to a low, melodious measure, which another girl of her own
+country was chanting.
+
+The dance resembled nothing that Jack and Harry had seen before.
+
+As she turned round, the shawl she waved was made to describe a series
+of circles.
+
+And then, as she came to a sudden stop, it fell around her in graceful
+folds and she looked like a very beautiful sculptured figure.
+
+But before you could fairly admire her graceful form and beauteous
+face, she had bounded off again in the mazy dance, to the intense
+gratification of the idle lookers-on.
+
+"What do you think of that?" whispered the Irishman.
+
+"Lovely," returned Jack, enthusiastically.
+
+"Beautiful," added Harry Girdwood. "What would little Emily say, Jack,
+if she knew you were looking with loving eyes at that little beauty?"
+
+The mention of little Emily's name made Jack silent for a minute or
+two.
+
+Presently he asked--
+
+"Are these professional performers?"
+
+"The dancer and the singer are two out of three Circassian slaves that
+have been sent to the pasha as a present during his journey. He will be
+pleased with the new acquisition when he returns, although one has met
+an untimely end."
+
+"Slaves! Is it possible?" said young Jack.
+
+"Rather, my boy."
+
+"What will they do with these slaves?"
+
+"Various things. Perhaps keep them to amuse the ladies of the harem, as
+you see now; perhaps make them beasts of burden; perhaps make more
+wives of them. His excellency is not particular to a wife or two."
+
+"He's a beast!" said young Jack; "and I should like to kick him."
+
+"Gently, gently; it's the system of the country, dear boys, nothing
+more."
+
+"But," said Jack, "when you speak of the Circassian girl being sent as
+a present to the pasha, do you mean the real pasha or the deputy? For
+this Turk is the one that cheated the poor orphan out of his money."
+
+"This is only the deputy; I mean the pasha himself," returned the Irish
+Turk. "The deputy would like to appropriate the slaves himself."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"I know it, and he does not mind what you would call murder now and
+then."
+
+"Perhaps that would account for what we saw in the bay, for the
+horrible business with the sack."
+
+"More than likely," said the Irish Turk, gravely. "But a slave, more or
+less, even if it's a lovely girl, doesn't count for much in these
+parts."
+
+The boys gave a shudder.
+
+They were not used to hearing murder discussed in such a cold-blooded
+fashion.
+
+"Tinker," said Jack, by way of changing the topic suddenly, "do you
+think that you or Bogey could dance like that girl?"
+
+"Go an' dance like dat," he said contemptuously. "Me an' dat nigger
+dance a lot better, sar. Bogey!"
+
+"Wall!"
+
+"Over wid you."
+
+And then, to the surprise and dismay of all the rest, the two darkeys
+vaulted over the balustrade and dropped into the room beneath.
+
+Had a bombshell fallen into the midst of the ladies of the harem, they
+could not have been more surprised.
+
+There was a half-stifled shriek from one, and they all flew into a
+corner, where they stood huddled up together for protection.
+
+But Tinker and his man were not at all put out by these strange
+demonstrations upon the part of the ladies.
+
+"Bogey."
+
+"Yes, Massa Tinker."
+
+"We'll jest take the floor togeder and show dem female gals what de
+poetry of motion is like."
+
+"Yah, yah!" grinned Bogey; "go it, my hunkey boy."
+
+And they did go it.
+
+There was not much of the poetry of motion about it, their dance being
+of the breakdown genus.
+
+And to tell the truth, the ladies appeared more frightened than pleased
+with the darkeys' extraordinary evolutions.
+
+The double shuffle excited wonderment.
+
+When Bogey and Tinker brought down their respective hoofs with a bang,
+great alarm was manifested.
+
+By degrees, however, they appeared to grow more accustomed to the
+eccentric evolutions of the young negroes, and presently one of them
+laughed aloud at the quaint capers the boys were cutting.
+
+This set them all laughing, and the mirth of the ladies was at its
+height, when certain alarming sounds were heard without.
+
+"By the holy fly," ejaculated the Irishman. "there's a row in the
+house, and our frisky black boys'll lose their lives if they don't
+watch it."
+
+"What's the matter?" demanded young Jack.
+
+"The deputy-pasha is back," whispered the Irishman, in evident anxiety.
+"He has discovered the presence of strangers in the house. He's coming
+along here with his guards, and there'll be the very devil to pay."
+
+"What, about Tinker and Bogey?"
+
+"They're dead as door-nails. There is an unwritten law which sentences
+any man to death who violates the sanctity of a Turkish harem."
+
+"Why don't they run out?" inquired Harry, anxiously.
+
+"What for? To be cutdown by the armed eunuchs. No; better take their
+chance where they are."
+
+"I'm not going to leave them to die," said Jack; "I'll have a shy, for
+it, if----"
+
+"Hold your tongue," interrupted the Irishman, anxiously; "but look,
+what the dooce are the girls up to with your black boys?"
+
+Tinker and Bogey laboured under a very great disadvantage.
+
+They could neither understand nor make themselves understood by the
+fair creatures by whom they were surrounded.
+
+However, they managed to glean that they were in danger, and that a
+temporary haven of safety was to be found in an inner room beyond the
+curtain facing the chief entrance, which was guarded by the two
+eunuchs.
+
+They were bustled into that apartment by the ladies of the harem to a
+chorus of excited whisperings.
+
+"Whatever are they going to do?" whispered Jack.
+
+"Silence, not a word. Look there!" said the Irish Turk.
+
+The heavy drapery before the chief entrance was drawn aside, and in
+marched the fierce-looking Turk, that had tried to rob the orphan and
+his cash-box, closely followed by the two eunuchs, who stood sentry at
+the doorway.
+
+"Now, there'll be the devil to pay," whispered the Irishman.
+
+Osmond, the ruling bashaw for the time, had heard that strangers were
+within the palace, and he hurried there with all speed.
+
+When first he was apprised of this, his greed excited him, for some of
+the chief sweets of his office were the presents.
+
+The deputy-pasha was ready to accept as many as he could send.
+
+"Strangers are present," he exclaimed, addressing one of the favourite
+ladies; "now, by the beard of the Prophet, the intruders shall suffer!"
+
+"What intruders?" said the lady.
+
+The deputy-governor made towards the curtain.
+
+But before he could enter, the lady with whom he had been talking
+placed herself in his way.
+
+"Stand aside----"
+
+"Restrain your temper here," returned the lady; "his excellency would
+not be pleased to hear of this."
+
+These words appeared to cool the ferocity of the deputy-governor a
+little.
+
+"Let the strangers come forth then," he growled.
+
+"It shall be done."
+
+She passed to the further chamber.
+
+A few moments later the curtain was dragged aside, and the two fair
+Circassians came forth, each leading a veiled girl by the hand.
+
+Strapping girls they were too; but so closely veiled that it was
+impossible to see what their features were like.
+
+"Were these the strangers?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The deputy-governor glared at the new-comers, and then dismissed the
+Circassian girls.
+
+They refused to go at first, upon which he grew rabid with anger.
+
+"Your sister Selika opposed my wishes once," he said, with cruel
+significance; "she will never oppose me more. Begone!"
+
+They tremblingly obeyed the tyrant.
+
+This done, he sent the two armed eunuchs off with a wave of the hand.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"What's up now, I wonder?" whispered Jack.
+
+"Wait."
+
+The Irishman had an odd suspicion.
+
+And his suspicion was very soon realised.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"Remove your veil," said Osmond, the deputy-pasha, peremptorily.
+
+But he might as well have addressed a stone wall.
+
+The tyrant waited a moment.
+
+Then he seized one of the girls and dragged her aside, tearing down her
+veil as he did so, and--
+
+Oh, what a roar.
+
+A wild ejaculation of disgust escaped him, for the face under the veil
+was black.
+
+Black as night, with huge, saucer-like eyes, and a huge mouth wearing a
+grin that was alarming.
+
+"Yah, yah! don't you like me, old man? Tink I do for you? Yah, yah!"
+
+And Tinker stood with his tongue out, grinning at the fierce Turk.
+
+The deputy-governor, enraged, made a rush at poor Tinker, and gave him
+a spiteful, if undignified back hander.
+
+"Golly!" cried Tinker. "Cantankerous immense beast, old Turkey."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+Just then the tyrant was greeted with a stinging spank on the side of
+his face, and turning round, there was another negress--as he thought.
+
+Or was it the same?
+
+It looked the very identical face and form.
+
+"Yah, yah!" grinned Bogey.
+
+The deputy-governor looked round with a puzzled air.
+
+"Yah, yah!" grinned Bogey, again.
+
+"Yah, yah!" shouted Tinker, poking his fist into the ribs of the Turk,
+and nearly doubling him up.
+
+The Turk heard the derisive laugh, and he felt the tingling of his ear
+and the poke in his ribs.
+
+So he dashed at Bogey first.
+
+Bogey feinted and dodged him.
+
+But his petticoats got between his legs, and over he went sprawling.
+
+The Turk sprang after him, and if Tinker had not been there, goodness
+knows what would have been the result.
+
+But Tinker was very much there.
+
+He bobbed his head and shot straight forward, landing his
+deputy-excellency fairly in the stomach, with his bare woolly pate.
+
+"Ugh!" gasped the Turk, and down he went.
+
+Bogey no sooner saw him there than he hammered into the Turk's
+figure-head in the most violent and ungentlemanly way.
+
+Jack and Harry Girdwood laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks.
+
+"Begorra," whispered the Irishman, "it's better than a pantomime, but
+some of us will suffer."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+But the end of the adventure promised to be serious.
+
+The fierce Turk grew frightened, and he called for assistance.
+
+In came the armed eunuchs ready for slaughter.
+
+"Good-bye to your boys," said the Irishman, in a whisper.
+
+"Not if I know it," returned Jack; "I'm on in this scene, old man."
+
+"I'm with you, Jack," cried Harry.
+
+Jack was in danger. Over went Harry to help him.
+
+The fierce Turk was filled with wonder and dismay; the enemies appeared
+to drop from the clouds.
+
+"Now, old big bags," said young Jack, saucily, "come on, and see how a
+Boy of England can fight."
+
+The words were not intelligible to the Turks, but the gesture was
+thoroughly understood.
+
+There was a gong-bell close beside the deputy-pasha, and one tap on
+this sufficed to bring a whole mob of armed men into the room.
+
+"Seize these Franks!" exclaimed the tyrant, still holding his hands
+round his sides in pain; "they have earned their fate. Let it be swift.
+Away with them--oh, I am nearly killed--away with them!"
+
+They resisted stoutly enough, fought like tiger-cats; but what was the
+use?
+
+None whatever.
+
+The Irishman waited to hear an ugly order given anent bowstringing, and
+then he came down stairs, and made his way artfully (so that his
+presence in the gallery overlooking the seraglio might not be
+suspected) to the corridor, where he once more discovered the two armed
+eunuchs on guard, looking like ebony statues again, and as calm as if
+they had never taken part in the short but stirring scene just
+described.
+
+"I wish to see his excellency the pasha," said he, "for I came here
+conducting two young Englishman, of great distinction, who brought some
+rich presents to his excellency."
+
+One of the men went in, and brought out the tyrant.
+
+To him the Irishman repeated his tale with an extravagant show of
+respect and deference.
+
+"Are these the two Franks?" demanded the Turk.
+
+He gave the word as he spoke, and out from the seraglio marched Jack
+and Harry Girdwood, their arms tightly bound to their sides, between a
+strong escort of armed men.
+
+"Yes, excellency," answered the Irishman.
+
+"Then they have been there," returned the deputy-pasha; "you know what
+that means?"
+
+"They have erred through ignorance, your excellency."
+
+"Then," replied the Turk, with vindictive significance, "within an hour
+they will grow wiser. Away with them!"
+
+And the prisoners were all marched away.
+
+"Begorra," muttered the Irishman to himself, "it's all up."
+
+But he never relaxed his efforts for all this.
+
+"Pardon, O excellency," he said, "but these young gentlemen who have
+offended through ignorance, being princes of the royal blood of
+Britain, their continued absence will lead to inquiries, and----"
+
+"They shall die like dogs if they are kings," growled the deputy-pasha.
+
+"Let me entreat humbly that you wait the return of his excellency, for
+these Franks are but savages, and the least slight, even to their
+princes, would bring their ships of war along our coast; the town would
+be razed to the ground."
+
+"Ships of war!" responded the deputy-pasha.
+
+"Yes, excellency," continued the Irishman, with a frightened air,
+seeing the slight advantage he had got now, "the ship they came in is
+now nearing the coast. It is well within range, with the cruel engines
+of war these barbarians use. I tremble for the Konaki."
+
+"They would never dare----"
+
+"Pardon, they would dare any thing. The death of the two princes of the
+blood royal would be the signal for the first shot, and then good-bye
+to us all."
+
+The deputy-pasha paused.
+
+The Irishman eyed him askance.
+
+"Begorra!" he muttered to himself, "that ought to be sthrong enough for
+him. Them boys have made me tell enough lies in ten minutes to last a
+Turk himself a lifetime. Be jabers, I've pitched it sthrong with a
+purpose. He who hesitates is lost. He is thinking better of it."
+
+The Irishman was right.
+
+"I will reflect," said the Turk, with a dignified air; "I may not spare
+their lives, but possibly await the return of his highness the pasha."
+
+The Irishman was dismissed.
+
+He bowed and retired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+OSMOND AND LOLO THE SLAVE--THREATS AND DEFIANCE--THE CIRCASSIAN'S
+DOOM--OSMOND EARNS HIS REWARD.
+
+
+The three Circassian slaves had been sent as a present to the real
+pasha, Osmond's master, by some friendly Algerian prince, and, arriving
+in the absence of the pasha, the deputy had cast greedy eyes upon the
+rich prize.
+
+Finding all his authority was lost upon the Circassians girls, who
+stoutly refused to be persuaded, he grew vicious.
+
+Nothing was positively known, but the tragedy which Jack and Harry
+Girdwood had witnessed hard by the water-gate of the Konaki, coupled
+with the recognition of the two eunuchs by Tinker as the two assassins
+whom he and Bogey had capsized into the water, made matters look
+altogether very suspicious indeed.
+
+The few threatening words which Osmond had muttered to one of the fair
+Circassians, too, should have told their own tale.
+
+The Circassian girls had endeavoured to screen those luckless negroes,
+Tinker and Bogey, for had they not led the boys into the presence of
+Osmond disguised as girls?
+
+Here, then, was a pretext for further ill-usage of the unfortunate
+slaves.
+
+The girls were brought into the tyrant's presence.
+
+"Stand out, deceitful and faithless slave," he said, addressing one of
+the girls; "you are accused of treason to the pasha, and you know your
+fate."
+
+The girl addressed made no reply but by a bold, defiant glance.
+
+"You are to die," said Osmond, watching the effect of his words as he
+spoke.
+
+The girls did not move nor utter a word.
+
+"You know now my power," he went on to say in a low tone. "You have one
+chance of life yet; would you know what that is?"
+
+He waited for an answer.
+
+He waited in vain.
+
+The proud Circassian girls did not deign to notice him.
+
+"You remember what I told your sister?" he said. "Reconsider what I
+said, and it may not yet be too late."
+
+"We do not need to speak again," returned one of the girls. "What we
+have already said is our resolve."
+
+"Death!" hissed the Turk, between his teeth.
+
+He eagerly watched for the terror his words should have produced.
+
+"Sooner death ten hundred times," returned the Circassian proudly,
+"than acknowledge you for our master."
+
+"You have spoken," exclaimed the Turk, fiercely.
+
+He struck a bell, and one of the armed eunuchs entered.
+
+"Remove these slaves to the cells as I told you; there they will remain
+until nightfall. You understand me?"
+
+The man placed his finger upon his lip--a sign of implicit
+obedience--and the Circassian slaves were removed to prison.
+
+They were doomed.
+
+Another tragedy was planned--the sequel to that which Harry Girdwood
+and young Jack had witnessed almost as soon as they were upon the
+Turkish coast.
+
+The cord and sack were once more to play their part.
+
+And could nothing avert their fate?
+
+Their peril was extreme--greater even than that of the English lads and
+their faithful followers, Tinker and Bogey.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"This is a pretty go," said Harry Girdwood, dolefully, as he looked
+round him.
+
+His tone was so grumpy, his look so glum, that Jack could not refrain
+from laughing.
+
+"Grumbling old sinner," said he; "you're never satisfied."
+
+"Well, I like that," said Harry. "You get us into a precious hobble
+through sheer wanton foolery, and then you expect me to like it."
+
+"Now, don't get waxy," said Jack.
+
+Tinker and Bogey did not understand the full extent of their danger.
+
+They sat at the further end of the same chamber, grinning at their
+masters, and, if the truth be told, rather enjoying the dilemma which
+they were honoured by sharing with them.
+
+Their masters would be sure to pull them all through safely.
+
+Such was their idea.
+
+As soon as they had been left alone in their prison, the boys had made
+a survey, and Jack pronounced his opinion, and his determination with
+the old air of confidence in himself.
+
+"They're treating us with something like contempt, Harry," he said.
+
+"How so?"
+
+"By not guarding us better than this," was the reply.
+
+"I don't quite see that, Jack; the door would take us all our time to
+get through."
+
+"Perhaps," returned Jack, "but look at the window, and just tell me
+what you think of that?"
+
+The window, or perhaps we had better have said hole in the wall--for
+glass or lattice there was none--overlooked the sea.
+
+They were in the part of the Konaki known as the water pavilion.
+
+There was a drop of thirty feet to the water.
+
+Thirty feet.
+
+Just think what thirty feet is.
+
+About the height of a two-story dwelling house.
+
+"Supposing we get through there," said Harry Girdwood, "we should never
+be able to swim all the way out to a friendly ship.
+
+"My dear old wet blanket," returned Jack, "I got you into this mess,
+and I'll get you out of it."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+They watched anxiously for a friendly ship.
+
+At length their vigil was rewarded with success.
+
+A big ship sailed into the bay with the British colours flying at her
+masthead.
+
+They almost shouted with joy at the sight.
+
+"That's a deuce of a way off," said Harry Girdwood.
+
+"About a mile."
+
+"A mile is a precious good swim," grunted Harry.
+
+"So much the better. These villainous old Turks won't be suspicious,
+and a mile isn't much for either of us, I think. I don't mind it, and
+we can answer for Tinker and his prime minister."
+
+"Dat's so," said Bogey, grinning from ear to ear. "Yah, yah! Me and
+Tinker swim with Massa Harry and Jack on our backs."
+
+At dusk they matured their plan of action.
+
+Tinker could float on the water like a cork, and was the swiftest
+swimmer of the four.
+
+Tinker was, therefore, lowered as far down as they could manage, and
+then allowed to drop into the water.
+
+It was a drop!
+
+"Fought dis chile was gwine on dropping for a week, sar," said the
+plucky young nigger, subsequently.
+
+However, once he was on the surface, and got his wind well, he darted
+through the water like a fish.
+
+They watched his dusky form until they could see him no more.
+
+"Now, Bogey."
+
+"Ready, sar."
+
+He was lowered and dropped the same as Tinker, and speedily was upon
+the latter's track.
+
+"Now my turn," said Jack. "I shall go in for a header."
+
+"Don't," said Harry. "You'd never come up alive if you went down head
+first from this height."
+
+And Jack was dissuaded from this purpose.
+
+He squeezed his body through the aperture.
+
+"Give me your hand, Harry, while I look over."
+
+His comrade obeyed, and Jack was able to see about him.
+
+Now on his left, not more than ten feet down, was a large doorway, with
+a flap similar to the doors on the water-side warehouses, in London,
+from where the stores are lowered and raised from the barges by means
+of an iron crane.
+
+"I wonder what place that is?" said Jack; "if I could only reach it, my
+fall would be very considerably broken."
+
+He had a try.
+
+They fastened their two scarves together, and Harry, making himself a
+secure hold above, lowered Jack, and the latter swinging backwards and
+forwards twice, dropped the second time fairly on the ledge.
+
+It was a perilous hold.
+
+But Jack was only second to Nero in monkey tricks, and he held on in a
+most tenacious manner.
+
+Swinging himself up he pushed his way into a dark and gloomy place.
+
+A low vaulted chamber, dimly lighted by a flickering old lamp.
+
+"Where am I now?"
+
+Before he could look further to get an answer to this question, he was
+startled by the sound of footsteps.
+
+What should he do?
+
+Leap out?
+
+Or should he wait?
+
+He decided to wait.
+
+He crept up into a corner, the darkest he could find, and there, with a
+beating heart, he awaited the progress of events.
+
+He had not long to wait.
+
+Two dusky forms glided spectrally into the place, one bearing a lamp.
+
+With this, they looked about, and Jack, with a sinking at heart,
+recognised the two eunuchs again.
+
+"What devilment are they working now?" thought Jack.
+
+They flashed the light just then upon the objects of their search.
+
+Two huge sacks lay upon the floor.
+
+Jack but imperfectly discerned what they were; but a sickening dread
+stole over him, as the two eunuchs raised one of the sacks from the
+floor, and bearing it to the window, while its contents writhed and
+struggled desperately, hurled it out.
+
+A stifled groan.
+
+A shriek.
+
+A splash.
+
+Jack could hear no more.
+
+He was about to dart out from his hiding-place upon those black-hearted
+wretches, when a third person stepped into the chamber.
+
+He said something to the two men--a few sharp words in an authoritative
+tone--and they retired.
+
+Jack recognised the voice in an instant.
+
+It was Osmond.
+
+"What is he up to now?" muttered Jack, to himself.
+
+A scene of intense excitement followed.
+
+The Turk unfastened the cord which fastened the neck of the second
+sack, and dragged it open.
+
+Then, raising the sack on end, he proceeded hastily to drag it down,
+revealing in the dim light the well-remembered form of one of the
+Circassian girls.
+
+"Lolo," said Osmond, "I come to give you one last chance."
+
+"I defy and despise you!" said the girl.
+
+"Reflect."
+
+"I have."
+
+"You know well, as I have seen again and again by your looks, that I do
+not hate you----"
+
+"Would you have me love the murderer of my sister?"
+
+"Silence, slave!"
+
+"I fear not your menaces," retorted the brave girl; "you must have seen
+that. The triumph is yours now--mine is to come."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Hereafter. Murder is against your creed as it is against mine. Do your
+worst."
+
+Jack listened.
+
+Osmond seized the girl by the wrist.
+
+But she twisted himself free from his clutch without any particular
+effort.
+
+Thereupon the Turk, with a growl of rage, drew his sword, and would
+have cut her down.
+
+But Jack could stand no more.
+
+Bounding forward from his hiding-place, he seized the uplifted hand and
+wrenched the sword from his grasp.
+
+Then, without a word, Jack struck the man with the flat of his sword
+upon the back of the head.
+
+The Turk sank to the ground with a hollow groan.
+
+It was all so momentary that the beautiful Circassian girl looked on as
+one in a dream.
+
+Hearing footsteps now, Jack ran to the doorway and peered out.
+
+"Quick!" exclaimed Jack. "Lend me a hand, or we are lost."
+
+She could not understand his words, but his meaning was plain enough.
+
+They pulled the body into the sack as quickly as possible.
+
+Then they hastily tied the cord around the neck of it.
+
+This done, Jack extinguished the lamp.
+
+There was no time to be lost.
+
+He took the girl by the hand, and pulled her back into the nook where
+he had been hiding, just as the two villainous eunuchs entered the
+chamber.
+
+The two eunuchs came slowly along the corridor.
+
+Finding the place, as they thought, deserted, they simply raised the
+sack from the ground, thinking the body of the young Circassian girl
+was in it, and bore it to the opening.
+
+One swing and over it went.
+
+As it fell, a hollow groan came from the sack.
+
+The two men stared at each other aghast, and looked over the opening.
+
+But before they could utter a word, a stealthy form had crept up behind
+them, and with a vigorous drive, hurled them both over after the sack.
+
+A wild, despairing yell, and the waters closed over these wholesale
+butchers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+LOLO'S GRATITUDE AND JACK'S DELIGHT--THE SIGNAL--UNEXPECTED TURN OF
+LUCK--A FAMILIAR VOICE--WHO IS IT?--"SURELY! NEVER!"--READ AND LEARN.
+
+
+"That's a good job done!" said Jack, looking after the wretches he had
+pushed over.
+
+The fair Circassian burst into tears now that the peril was over.
+
+Falling upon her knees, she seized Jack's hands and pressed them to her
+lips.
+
+She poured out a long string of thanks in the most eloquent language.
+
+Although the language was so far wasted upon Jack, he could not fail to
+comprehend her meaning.
+
+"There, there," said Jack, squeezing her hand in reply to her caresses,
+"don't take on so, my dear girl. The danger's over now."
+
+But was it?
+
+They had yet to get away.
+
+Jack was no worse off than when in his prison ten feet higher up, it is
+true.
+
+But what of Lolo?
+
+How was she to manage?
+
+While he was cogitating over this he heard a shrill whistle from below.
+
+He ran to the window.
+
+"Hist, Jack!" cried a familiar voice from the water.
+
+"Hullo!"
+
+"Drop down, Jack," returned Harry's voice. "Here I am, in a boat, as
+snug as a domestic pest in a railway wrapper."
+
+Comic and tragic were so jumbled up in this startling series of
+adventures, that Jack scarce knew whether to laugh or to cry.
+
+He did neither.
+
+There was a rope close, handy upon a sack--its destination had
+certainly not been to save life--and Jack, with the quickness of
+thought itself, fastened it around the Circassian girl's waist.
+
+She understood his meaning, and lent him all the assistance she could.
+
+Once at the window, he fastened it securely, and proceeded to lower it
+down.
+
+She looked down the dizzy height, and slightly shuddered.
+
+And then, before trusting herself down, she threw her arms around her
+young preserver's neck, and embraced him tenderly.
+
+"Bless you," said Jack, with emotion. "If I only bring you safe through
+this, it will be the proudest day in my life."
+
+Now for it.
+
+It was a perilous moment, for the poor girl could not help herself in
+any way.
+
+But she was lowered in safety.
+
+"Look out," said Jack, in a good loud whisper; "I'm coming now."
+
+"Look sharp, then," called out Harry. "I smell danger."
+
+"Make haste, dear boy," added a familiar voice.
+
+The sound thrilled Jack strangely.
+
+He was so full of the present adventure and its perils, that he could
+not give much thought to the voice now.
+
+Yet it rang on his ears as of old days.
+
+"You're nearly down," said Harry Girdwood. "Drop now, old fellow."
+
+Jack obeyed.
+
+As soon as he reached the boat, he was seized in the arms of the
+Circassian girl, Lolo, who hugged him as if she would never part with
+him again.
+
+"Now, my love," said that same familiar voice, "when you've done with
+that boy, I should like to have one touch at him. What do you say,
+Jack, my lad?"
+
+"Heaven above!" ejaculated Jack "Why, it's Mr. Mole."
+
+"Right, dear boy," returned Mr. Mole. "Isaac Mole himself, turned up in
+the very nick of time. God bless you, Jack."
+
+"And you, too, sir. How are they all at home? My mother, my----"
+
+"There, there," interrupted Harry; "we'll have the family history when
+we're fairly out of musket-shot range. If they find out any thing,
+they'll pot us off as easily as shooting for nuts at a fair."
+
+"All right," said Jack, laughingly. "Pull away."
+
+"Pull away, boys."
+
+"Aye, aye, sir."
+
+They had a good boatload, yet they moved through the water pretty
+smartly.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The vessel which had anchored in the bay, and which showed the British
+ensign at her masthead, was the identical ship that our old friend Mr.
+Mole had come in.
+
+The messages that they had sent back to the different stations upon
+their journey had been successful in guiding Mr. Mole aright, happily
+enough.
+
+They had barely cast anchor, when Mr. Mole had been lowered in a boat,
+his intention being to come ashore, and get information, if possible,
+regarding the object of his cruise.
+
+But little did he think of picking up his information in the water.
+
+Yet such was the case.
+
+When half-way to shore, they came upon Bogey swimming swiftly along.
+
+A few words of hurried explanation sufficed, and the astounded Mole had
+the boat pulled flush up beneath the windows of the Konaki, first
+rescuing Harry Girdwood and then Lola the Circassian girl, and Jack, as
+we have described.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII.
+
+THE PICNIC--FIGGINS AGAIN IN TROUBLE.
+
+
+After Jack had placed the beautiful girl in safety, he arranged for Mr.
+Mole to tell him the news from home.
+
+"Your dear father and mother are in a woeful state about you, Jack,"
+said Mole.
+
+"Why?" asked young Jack.
+
+"I don't like beginning with reproaches, my boy," returned Mr. Mole,
+"but I must, of course, tell you. Your little extravagances have been
+troubling your father a great deal."
+
+"I can throw some light on that subject," replied Jack. "I have been
+robbed. Cheques have been stolen from my book, and my signature
+forged."
+
+Mr. Mole looked grave.
+
+"Is this the fact?" he asked.
+
+"Of course. However, we need not go further into that just now. Give me
+the news. How is Emily?"
+
+"Very well in health, but spirits low--sighing for her Jack," said
+Mole, wickedly.
+
+"Did she tell you so?" demanded Jack.
+
+"Not exactly, but I can see as far through a stone wall as most
+people."
+
+"Yes, sir, I believe you can," said Jack. "That is about the limit of
+your powers of observation."
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Mole. "But I know how to comfort Emily, dear
+girl. She'll be quite resigned to your prolonged absence when she gets
+news of you. I have already written home to explain the odd
+circumstances under which I met you--that you were shut up in some dark
+room with a lovely Circassian girl, and that you subsequently rescued
+her, and how very fond of you the lovely Circassian seems, and----"
+
+"I wish you would only meddle with affairs that concern you, Mr. Mole,"
+said Jack, stiffly. "I don't want you to furnish information to any
+body about my movements."
+
+"Very good," replied Mr. Mole, "I won't, then. I thought I might send a
+second letter, to say that I was quite sure you did not care a fig for
+the lovely Circassian."
+
+Jack thought that this might be a desirable move, and so he tried to
+square matters a bit.
+
+"Do so, and I will be your friend," he said.
+
+"Consider it done," exclaimed Mole. "I like you as I did, and do, your
+father, but I must have my joke."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The perilous adventures which our friends had encountered on their
+expedition did not deter them from further enterprises.
+
+Only two days after the events just recorded, Jack's party set out on a
+picnic excursion, to examine the beauties of the surrounding
+neighbourhood.
+
+It was not towards the desert that they directed their steps this time,
+but in the opposite direction.
+
+Mr. Figgins, upon this journey, showed his usual talent for getting
+into scrapes.
+
+On passing under a group of fine fig-trees, nothing would suit him but
+he must stand upon his mule's saddle in order to reach some of the
+fruit.
+
+As he was still not high enough to do this, he made a spring up and
+caught one of the lower branches, to which he clung.
+
+Suddenly the mule, we know not from what cause, bolted from underneath,
+leaving the luckless orphan suspended.
+
+Mr. Figgins soon relinquished the search in his anxiety for his own
+safety.
+
+He saw beneath him a descent of some ten feet, and at the bottom a
+dense bed of stinging nettles.
+
+How was he to get down?
+
+Dropping was out of the question, for it would be like a leap into
+certain torture.
+
+However, Harkaway called out to him to hold on, but not so loudly as
+Figgins bawled all the while for help.
+
+Meanwhile, Bogey and Tinker had started after the escaped mule, which
+they found some difficulty in capturing.
+
+When it was at length secured, the animal was placed in his former
+position under the tree, and firmly held by the two negroes.
+
+"Now let yourself down, Figgins," cried Jack; "drop straight and
+steady."
+
+Figgins tried his best to obey.
+
+When he let go the branch, it rebounded with a force that threw him out
+of the perpendicular, and instead of landing upon the mule's back, he
+fell and landed on the bed of stinging nettles.
+
+The orphan roared lustily--as indeed well he might--for, besides being
+shaken by the fall, the pain he soon felt in every portion of his frame
+exposed to the nettles was excruciating.
+
+When the party emerged from the forest, a scene of unusual beauty broke
+upon their vision.
+
+"This is a charming spot," observed Harkaway.
+
+"And just the thing for a picnic," added Harry. "I vote we halt under
+those trees and begin operations."
+
+Hampers were then unpacked, bottles uncorked, and application made to a
+pure stream of water which flowed near the spot.
+
+At length all was ready.
+
+Poor orphan, the first mouthful he took seemed to consist of cayenne
+pepper.
+
+The cup of water, to which he naturally applied for relief, also
+appeared to have been tampered with, for it tasted as salt as the briny
+ocean itself.
+
+Next, and also naturally, he drew forth his pockethandkerchief, but ere
+he could carry it to his mouth, dropped it in haste and with a cry of
+horror, for it contained an enormous frog, which, in its struggles to
+escape, fell plump into his plate.
+
+Mr. Mole laughed loudly, whereat Mr. Figgins was naturally offended at
+the schoolmaster, and began to suspect that it was he who had been
+playing these practical jokes upon him.
+
+Bogey and Tinker, the real promoters of the orphan's discomfiture,
+observed this with great inward mirth, but they soon afterwards got
+into a little trouble themselves.
+
+Harkaway, turning suddenly round, discovered the two black imps making
+sad havoc with the sweets.
+
+"You young scoundrels," shouted Jack, angrily grasping his riding-whip;
+"take your fingers off that jam pot immediately."
+
+"I was on'y a-openin' it, sar, ready for de company," exclaimed the
+unabashed Tinker.
+
+"What's that you have in your hand, Bogey?" proceeded Harkaway,
+alluding to something which the darkey was hiding suspiciously behind
+him.
+
+"Only a bit o' bread I brought in my pocket, sar," was the reply.
+
+"Show it us, then, directly, sir."
+
+Bogey accordingly produced a crust from apparently a loaf of the week
+before last, but while doing so, Jack's sharp eyes detected that the
+nigger dropped some other eatable, in his hurried endeavour to ram it
+into his pockets unseen.
+
+"There, our large currant and raspberry tart!" exclaimed Harkaway. "You
+artful monkey. I owe you one for this, and I mean to pay you now."
+
+Darting at them, Jack just managed to give Bogey and Tinker a cut each
+on the shoulders with his whip as they nimbly scampered off, both
+bellowing as though they were being murdered.
+
+But rapid as was the action, Nero saw an opportunity in it whereof he
+took advantage, for he pounced upon the well-bitten tart, and bore it
+away in triumph.
+
+This episode, however, was soon forgotten, and Mole began to relate
+adventures of himself which would have done credit to Baron Munchausen,
+while Figgins, not to be outdone, told wonderful stories of high life
+in which he had been personally engaged.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII.
+
+OF THE DEADLY QUARREL AND MORTAL COMBAT BETWEEN MOLE AND FIGGINS.
+
+
+"One day," began Mr. Figgins, after a pause, "I was driving along
+Belgravia Crescent with Lord--bless me! which of 'em was it?"
+
+"Perhaps it was Lord Elpus," suggested Harkaway.
+
+"Or Lord Nozoo?" said Girdwood.
+
+"Are you sure he was a lord at all, Mr. Figgins?" asked Mole,
+dubiously.
+
+"Mr. Mole," said the orphan, indignantly; "do you doubt my veracity?"
+
+"Not a bit," answered the schoolmaster, "but I doubt the _voracity_ of
+your hearers being sufficient for them to _swallow_ all you are telling
+us."
+
+"Well, gentlemen," pursued Figgins, turning from Mole in disgust, "this
+Lord Whatshisname used to have behind his carriage about the nicest
+little tiger that ever was seen----"
+
+"Nothing like the tiger I saw in Bengal one day, I'm sure," broke in
+Mr. Mole, in a loud and positive tone. "Come, Figgins, I'll bet you ten
+to one on it."
+
+The orphan rose to his feet in great indignation.
+
+"Isaac Mole, Esq., I have borne patiently with injuries almost too
+great for mortal man throughout this day. I consider myself insulted by
+you, and I will have satisfaction."
+
+"Well, old boy, if you just mention what will satisfy you, I'll see,"
+said Mole.
+
+"Nothing short of a full and complete apology."
+
+"You don't get that out of me," the schoolmaster scornfully retorted.
+"Preposterous. What I, Isaac Mole, who took the degree of B. A. at the
+almost infantine age of thirty-four, to apologise to one who is----"
+
+"Who is what, sir?" demanded Figgins.
+
+"Never mind. I don't want to use unbecoming expressions," said Mole.
+"You wouldn't like to hear what I was going to say."
+
+The orphan was so angry at this that, unheeding what he was doing, he
+drank off nearly a tumblerful of strong sherry at once.
+
+This, coming on the top of other libations, made the whole scene dance
+before his bewildered eyes.
+
+He began to see two Moles, and shook his fist, as he thought, upon both
+of them at once.
+
+"I d--don't care for either of you," he exclaimed, fiercely.
+
+"Either of us? For me, I suppose you mean?" said the tutor.
+
+"Which are you?" asked Figgins.
+
+"Which are who?" retorted Mole.
+
+"Why, there are two of you, and I wa--want to know which is the right
+one," said Figgins.
+
+"I'm the right one. I always am right," said Mole, aggressively. "You
+don't dare to imply I'm wrong, do you?"
+
+"Won't say what I imply," answered Figgins, with dignity; "but I know
+you to be only a----"
+
+"Stop, stop, gentlemen," cried Jack. "Let not discord interrupt the
+harmony of the festive occasion. Mr. Mole, please tone down the
+violence of your language. Mr. Figgins, calm your agitation, and give
+us a song."
+
+"A song?" interrupted Mr. Mole, taking the request to himself. "Oh,
+with pleasure."
+
+And he struck up one of his favourite bacchanalian chants--
+
+    "Jolly nose, Jolly nose, Jolly nose!
+    The bright rubies that garnish thy tip
+    Are all sprung from the mines of Canary,
+    Are all sprung----"
+
+"There's no doubt upon their being all sprung anyhow," whispered
+Harkaway to Girdwood. "Stop, stop, Mr. Mole," he cried at this
+juncture. "It was Mr. Figgins, not you, that we called upon for a
+song."
+
+"Was it?" said the schoolmaster. "Very good; beg pardon. Only thought
+you'd prefer somebody who could sing. Figgins can't."
+
+Figgins again looked at Mole, as if he were about to fly at him.
+
+But the cry of "A song, a song by Mr. Figgins!" drowned his
+remonstrances.
+
+"Really do'no what to sing, ladies and gen'l'men," protested Figgins.
+"Stop a minute. I used to know 'My Harp and Flute.'"
+
+"You mean 'My Heart and Lute,' I suppose?" said Jack.
+
+"Yes, that's it. And I should remember the air, if I hadn't forgotten
+the words. Let's see. Stop a minute, head's rather queer. Try the water
+cure."
+
+Whereupon Mr. Figgins staggered to the adjacent brook, and, kneeling
+down, fairly dipped his head into it.
+
+After having wiped himself with a dinner napkin he rejoined the party,
+very much refreshed.
+
+"Tell you what, friends, I'll give you a solo on the flute," he said.
+"Something lively; 'Dead March in Saul' with variations."
+
+And without mere ado, he took up his favourite instrument, and prepared
+to astonish the company.
+
+If Mr. Figgins did not succeed in astonishing the company, he at least
+considerably astonished himself, for when he placed the flute to his
+lips and gave a vigorous preliminary blow, not only did he fail to
+elicit any musical sound, but he smothered and half-blinded himself
+with a dense cloud of flour, with which the tube had been entirely
+filled.
+
+Bogey and Tinker, as usual, had been the real authors of this new
+atrocity, but Figgins felt convinced that the guilt lay at the door of
+Mole, on whom he turned for vengeance.
+
+"Villain!" he cried, "this is another of your tricks; it's the last
+straw. I'll bear it no longer; take that."
+
+As Mr. Figgins spoke, he struck the venerable Mole a sounding whack
+over the bald part of the cranium with the instrument of harmony.
+
+Mole sprang upon his legs with astonishing alacrity, and, seizing
+Figgins by the throat, commenced shaking him.
+
+A ferocious struggle ensued, among the remonstrances of the spectators,
+but, before they could interfere, it ended by both combatants coming
+down heavily and at their full length on the temporary dinner-table,
+and thereby breaking not a few plates, bottles, and glasses.
+
+Helped to rise and seated on separate camp-stools, some distance apart,
+the two former friends, but now mortal foes, as soon as they could get
+their breath, sat fiercely shaking fists and hurling strong adjectives
+at each other.
+
+"I'll have it out of you, you old villain!" cried Mole.
+
+"And I'll have it out of you, you old rascal!" shrieked Figgins.
+
+"We'll both have it out," added the tutor, "and the sooner the better.
+Name your place and your weapons."
+
+"Here," answered Figgins, pointing to an open space before him, "and my
+weapon is the sword."
+
+"And mine's the pistol," said Mole. "I'll fight with that, and you with
+your sword."
+
+"Agreed," said the excited Figgins, quite forgetting the
+impracticability of such an arrangement and the disadvantages it would
+give him.
+
+Figgins had a battered sabre of the light curved, Turkish make, and
+Mole rejoiced in the possession of a very old-fashioned pistol.
+
+Mole gave the latter to Girdwood, who volunteered to be his second, and
+who took care to put nothing in more dangerous than gunpowder.
+
+"Now we're about to see a duel upon a quite original principle," cried
+Jack to his friends. "I don't think either of them can hurt the other
+much. I'll be your second, Figgins, my boy."
+
+"All right. I take up my position here," cried the orphan, stationing
+himself under a tree near the brook.
+
+"I shall stand here," said Mole, stopping at about half a dozen paces
+from him.
+
+The orphan looked as though he intended to bolt behind the tree if Mole
+fired.
+
+"Well, Master Harry, don't be in a hurry," said Figgins. "I am not
+quite ready, are you, Mr. Mole?"
+
+"Oh yes," said Mole, "I am ready."
+
+He fully intended to blow the orphan's head off the first fire.
+
+"I'll give the signal to fire," said Harry. "Now, are you ready; one,
+two, three!"
+
+Mole's pistol-shot reverberated through the copse, but, as, a matter of
+course, it did not the slightest harm to Figgins, who, however, thought
+he heard it strike against the sabre which he held in a position of
+guard.
+
+It now began, for the first time, to strike the orphan that this novel
+mode of fighting was very awkward for himself, for how was he to get at
+his enemy?
+
+At first he poised his sword as if about to fling it at him, then moved
+by a sudden impulse he rushed forward, with a cry of vengeance, and
+began attacking Mole furiously with some heavy cutting blows.
+
+Mole, as his only resource, dodged about and caught some of these blows
+upon his pistol, but judging this risky work, he took up his stick and
+used it in desperate self-defence; thus dodging and parrying, he
+retreated while Figgins advanced.
+
+Once Mole managed to get what an Irishman would call "a fair offer" at
+Figgins' skull, which accordingly resounded with the blow of his
+weapon.
+
+Half stunned, the orphan plunged madly forward and took a far-reaching
+aim at the old tutor.
+
+He, in his turn, dodged again, but his wooden legs not being so nimble
+as real ones, he stumbled over some tall, thick grass, and fell
+backwards into the stream.
+
+Jack, thinking matters had gone far enough, caught the orphan's foot in
+a rope, and bent him so far forward that he overbalanced himself and
+fell on top of Mole, and both tumbled into the water together.
+
+The alarm was given, and they were both drawn out, "wet as drowned
+rats," but not quite so far gone.
+
+They were, however, entirely sobered by their immersion.
+
+A small glass of brandy, however, was administered to each, to prevent
+them catching cold, and some of their garments were taken off to dry in
+the sun.
+
+Mole, the tutor, and Figgins, the orphan, wearied out with their
+exertions, soon fell fast asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV.
+
+A TREMENDOUS RISE FOR MR. MOLE.
+
+
+The quarrel between the two had been so far made up, that when they
+awoke from their _siesta_, and the fumes of the alcohol had subsided,
+neither of them seemed to remember any thing about the matter.
+
+The party got safely home without encountering either robbers, snakes,
+wolves, thunderstorms, or any other dangerous being or foes whatever.
+
+The next day, however, commenced for Mr. Mole an adventure which at the
+outset promised to form an exciting page in his life.
+
+He was walking through the streets and bazaars of the town, Jack on one
+side of him, Harry on the other, though the reader, at first glance,
+would probably not have recognised any of them.
+
+Harkaway and Girdwood presented the appearance of Ottoman civilians
+belonging to the "Young Turkey" party, whilst the venerable tutor
+stalked along in full fig as a magnificent robed and turbaned Turk of
+the old school.
+
+It had become quite a mania with Isaac to turn himself as far as he
+possibly could into a Moslem.
+
+He had taken quite naturally to the Turkish tobacco, and the national
+mode of smoking it through a chibouque, or water-pipe.
+
+But in outward appearance Mr. Mole had certainly succeeded in turning
+Turk, more especially as he had fixed on a large false grey beard,
+which matched beautifully with his green and gold turban.
+
+He had again mounted his cork legs, and encased his cork feet with
+splendid-fitting patent leather boots, and Mole felt happy.
+
+"They take me for a pasha of three tails, don't you think so?" he
+delightedly asked his companions.
+
+"Half a dozen tails at least, I should say," returned Jack, "and of
+course they take us for a couple of your confidential attendants."
+
+"In that case, I must walk before you, and adopt a proud demeanour, to
+show my superiority," said Mole.
+
+So whilst Jack and Harry dropped humbly in the rear, he strode forward
+with a haughty stiffness of dignity, which his two cork legs rather
+enhanced than otherwise.
+
+"Holloa!" exclaimed Harry, suddenly; "who's this black chap coming up
+to us, bowing and scraping like a mandarin?"
+
+He alluded to a tall dark man, apparently of the Arab race, but dressed
+in the full costume of a Turkish officer, who, dismounting his horse,
+approached Mole with the most elaborate Oriental obeisances, and held
+out to him a folded parchment.
+
+Mole took the document with a stiff bow, opened it and found it to be a
+missive in Turkish, which, notwithstanding his studies in that
+direction, he could not for the world make out.
+
+    [Illustration: "MOLE TOOK THE DOCUMENT, AND OPENED IT."--TINKER.
+    VOL. II.]
+
+But unembarrassed by this, he turned to Harry Girdwood, and making a
+gesture, indicating his own inability to read it without his
+spectacles, motioned him to do so for him.
+
+"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Harry, in amazement. "It is the imperial seal
+of the Sultan. Mole, old man, you have been mistaken for a pasha."
+
+"Is it possible?" cried Mole; "but what does it say?"
+
+        "Imperial Palace, Stamboul.
+    "In the name of Allah and the Prophet.
+        "To his Excellency Moley Pasha.
+
+    "This is to certify that, in consequence of the lamented death of
+    Youssouf Bey, Pasha of Alla-hissar, I am commanded by our sublime
+    master to appoint and instal you into the said government of the
+    city and province of Alla-hissar. Therefore you are commanded at
+    once to proceed thither, under an escort which will be in readiness
+    at the door of your hotel at five o'clock in the morning, after you
+    receive this. Given at the Sublime Porte by Ali Hussein Pasha,
+    Grand Vizier to His Imperial Majesty the Padishah."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Mr. Mole turned pale with anxiety.
+
+"This is very serious," he exclaimed; "but I fully expect to become a
+king before I die, but in this case, what shall I do?"
+
+"Why, become a pasha," said Jack; "it will be worth your while. We'll
+give you our assistance."
+
+"But how am I to answer the messenger?" asked Mole.
+
+"No necessity to answer him; make signs that you obey the sultan's
+mandate; you know how they do it."
+
+Mole accordingly folded the firman again, placed it to his forehead,
+and then to his heart, bowing all the time with the most profound
+respect.
+
+The messenger evidently quite understood, for he bowed too, and rode
+away rapidly.
+
+"That's what you call having greatness thrust upon you, eh, Mole?" said
+Jack.
+
+"I don't much care about it," answered the tutor. "I don't believe I
+shall be able to carry out the character of a pasha. It's a dangerous
+game."
+
+"Nonsense," said our hero; "if they choose to make a mistake, it's
+their lookout."
+
+"I shall find it a mistake when I come to be bowstringed, or hanged, or
+shot, or something of that kind," said the tutor; "but, Jack, my dear
+boy, I depend upon you to pull me through."
+
+"No fear," answered Jack; "you're a great man, Mr. Mole, and no doubt
+the authorities, becoming aware of your merits, have really made choice
+of you as the governor of the pashalik."
+
+"But they must know that I'm not a Turk," objected Mole.
+
+"That doesn't matter," said Jack; "not only Turks, but Greeks,
+Americans, Italians, French, all sorts of people are in power in this
+country."
+
+The excitement of the moment and the influence of some spirituous
+liquid he had taken before starting, so far bewildered Mr. Mole's
+intellect, that he actually accepted Jack's explanation.
+
+"Hang it, I will be pasha," he cried; "and risk all. Haven't I got the
+sultan's own firman?" and he flourished that important document round
+his head in the most defiant manner.
+
+"That's right," said Jack; "keep up that spirit, and you'll make your
+fortune. Remember, first thing to-morrow you are to be conducted to
+your seat of government; the guard of honour will be at the door of
+your hotel at five o'clock, you will reach Alla-hissar about ten, and
+to-morrow morning you'll begin your public duties."
+
+"What will your father say, Jack, when he hears of this? But I hope you
+won't desert me, my dear boys," said Mole, imploringly.
+
+"We'll go with you," answered Harry.
+
+"Rather!" acquiesced Jack. "We'll never leave you, old boy."
+
+The remainder of the day was spent by Mole in the further study of
+Turkish.
+
+These exertions were fatiguing, and Mr. Mole was tired when he retired,
+as he expressed it.
+
+He was not long falling asleep, and dreams of glory, power, and
+magnificence filled his slumbers.
+
+He was just dreaming he had been elected sultan when he was suddenly
+and rudely awakened by a terrible knocking at the door.
+
+Mole started up, and was told that he must prepare in a great hurry,
+for the escort had already arrived.
+
+The tutor, still half asleep, looked out of the window, and in the day
+dawn he discerned a small body of horsemen at the door of the hotel.
+
+Mole felt that he could never get into those elaborate Turkish robes
+without assistance; luckily at this juncture young Jack put in an
+opportune appearance, and offered to help him.
+
+"You'll have to make haste, pasha," said our hero; "strikes me you've
+rather overslept yourself. Where is your beard?"
+
+"Here it is," returned Mole; "but why didn't some of you wake me
+before? I was so busy dreaming that I was sultan, and--that's right, my
+boy, help me on with the cork legs and boots, that's the worst
+difficulty, and then all these things, and lastly the turban and
+beard."
+
+"I'll get Harry to help me," pursued Jack; "you'll have proper
+attendants when you are installed in the palace. Remember what we
+agreed upon last night; we are to pass off as your two sons, under the
+names of Yakoob and Haroun Pasha."
+
+"Just so," said Mole; "but I expected a larger escort than those half a
+dozen men there. I would not go through this, my boy, if I thought
+future history would not give me a glorious page."
+
+"Oh, don't fear, sir, this will be something grand for you; at the gate
+of the town you will be met by a regular guard of honour."
+
+With the combined assistance of Jack and Harry, Mole was fully invested
+with his Oriental robes, with which he stumped downstairs as gracefully
+as a moving bundle of clothes.
+
+His escort consisted of six spahis, most of them black, and headed by
+the messenger of the day before.
+
+"Jack, my dear boy," said Mole, "at last my time has arrived to become
+a great man in the eyes of the world."
+
+"Right you are, sir," replied Jack. "On you go, my noble pasha."
+
+As soon as Mole was mounted, the chief spahi gave the word, and the
+imposing cavalcade set off at a quick trot.
+
+In two hours they had arrived at the primitive and sequestered town of
+Alla-hissar.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV.
+
+THE GREAT MOLEY MOLE PASHA.
+
+
+Such an important event as the arrival of a new governor naturally
+caused a great deal of excitement among the worthy inhabitants of the
+remote town.
+
+They came out in crowds to greet him, headed by all the inferior
+functionaries, and a military guard of honour conducted him to the old
+castle, which had been fitted up as a sumptuous official residence.
+
+Two things puzzled his new subjects; the fact of his arrival being two
+days before the appointed time, and the circumstance of the new pasha,
+who was apparently a Turk, returning their greetings through an
+interpreter.
+
+However, none had any doubt of the reality of his appointment, and the
+production of the sultan's firman at once made the old cadi, or
+magistrate, who had been temporarily put in command, give way to his
+superior.
+
+Briefly let us explain these circumstances.
+
+It was another hoax, and a most daring and gigantic one, on the part of
+Jack and his friends, upon their long-suffering tutor.
+
+Having ascertained that the town of Alla-hissar was actually waiting
+for its new governor, the real pasha, who was to arrive from
+Constantinople in two days' time, Jack and the others hit upon the idea
+of making the situation the basis of a grand practical joke.
+
+The _firman_ was of course a forged document, written by the old
+interpreter, who was in the plot, and the Turkish officer who had
+presented it to Mole was no other than our friend the diver.
+
+The waiter, the orphan, and the two nigger boys had also effectually
+disguised themselves, and became members of Mole's escort.
+
+A skilful combination enabled them to carry out the details of their
+plan with such success as to deceive not only Mole himself, but the
+simple pastoral folks of Alla-hissar itself.
+
+Moley Pasha, as he now styled himself, was in all his glory.
+
+"This is a proud day," he observed to Jack, as he gazed round on the
+handsome residence provided for him. "Little did I imagine that old
+Isaac would ever live to come out in all the glories of an Oriental
+magnate. Jack, we must let your dear father know of this."
+
+"We will, sir; but now let us congratulate you," answered our hero.
+"The more especially as you've promoted us to such high positions."
+
+Moley, the pasha, now retired to his private apartments to rest until
+the hour arrived for his first council.
+
+During this time, he was coached up by the old interpreter, and by his
+aid, Moley Pasha found himself able to receive the reports and
+congratulations of subordinates in the government, and to try several
+cases brought before him.
+
+After three hours of arduous public duties, the pasha and his friends
+retired to his private apartments, which were fitted up with every
+Oriental luxury.
+
+"By Jove!--I mean by the Prophet!" exclaimed the new potentate, "I am
+getting on like a house on fire; but I am still mortal, and need
+refreshment, not having had anything to speak of to-day, beyond a cup
+of coffee with a dash of brandy in it."
+
+Dinner being served up (in the Turkish style) the pasha grew still more
+enthusiastic.
+
+"Yes, this is a delightful life," he said; "it only wants the presence
+of lovely woman to render it perfect. Now, if Mrs. Mole Number One or
+Number Two or Three were here----"
+
+"Oh, I forgot," suddenly broke in Jack, looking very serious. "That
+reminds me, there was one most important subject I had to speak to you
+about. The late pasha had thirteen wives."
+
+"How awful," exclaimed Mole. "But what is that to do with me?"
+
+"A good deal; they are now left, by his sudden death, desolate widows,
+and it is expected that you, as his sucessor, should take them under
+your protection. They go with the premises, like the stock and fixtures
+of a business."
+
+"Heaven above! you don't mean that?" exclaimed Moley Pasha, becoming
+much agitated, and pausing ere he quaffed a goblet of champagne, which
+he drank under the name of sparkling French sherbet.
+
+"It's quite true, though, isn't it, Abdullah?" turning to the dragoman.
+
+"It's true as the Koran, itself," returned Jack. "Every pasha of
+Alla-hissar must have thirteen wives."
+
+"Good heaven! what'll Mrs. Mole say?" exclaimed Mole, in great
+agitation; "hang it, you know, this will never do--Isaac Mole with
+thirteen wives. I always thought I was very much married already, quite
+as much as I want to be."
+
+"Unless your excellency agrees," continued the interpreter, "I won't
+answer for the consequences."
+
+"I have had three wives already, and now you wish me to take thirteen.
+I'd sooner resign my government at once," exclaimed Mole.
+
+"Impossible!" returned the dragoman; "it is death to resist the
+sultan's firman."
+
+"Powers above! what a situation am I in!" exclaimed Mole, in increasing
+dismay. "I find it's not all roses after all, being a pasha; but
+thorns, stinging nettles, and torturing brambles. But about these
+thirteen widows, Abdullah? Who and where are they, and what are they
+like?"
+
+"They are at present in a house not far off from here," was the reply;
+"five of them, it seems, have been the widows of the pasha before last,
+and they are rather old; six belonged only to Youssouf Pasha, and are
+middle-aged."
+
+Mr. Mole responded with a deep groan.
+
+"The other two," proceeded Abdullah, "are fair Circassians in the very
+summer of youth and beauty."
+
+Moley Pasha uttered a profound sigh.
+
+"Ah, that's much better."
+
+"I expect they will be here soon, at least some of them," said
+Abdullah, the interpreter.
+
+The subject then dropped for a time, and the great Moley also
+dropped--asleep, from the combined effects of the pipe, the coffee, and
+the wine.
+
+He was suddenly awakened by Abdullah shouting in his ear--
+
+"May it please your excellency, they've come."
+
+"Who--who?" gasped Mole, in fearful terror; for he had just been
+dreaming of the rack and the bowstring.
+
+"The noble Ladies Alme and Hannifar, widows of the late lamented
+Youssouf-Pasha," was the reply.
+
+"Gracious mercy!" exclaimed the persecuted Mole; "they've come to claim
+me, perhaps to bear me off by main force."
+
+"Ho, there, guards; stand round; not without a struggle will Isaac Mole
+surrender his liberty as a single man, that is as a married man, but
+not--Heaven, my brain is growing utterly confused in this terrible
+position. Where's that boy Jack?"
+
+"Their excellencies Yakoob and Haroun Pasha are both gone out," was the
+response.
+
+"Then, Abdullah, I command you to stand up in my defence. Come here."
+
+The old interpreter approached with a low bow.
+
+"Write on two pieces of card the words--'Admire Moley Pasha, but touch
+not him.'"
+
+"In Turkish?"
+
+"Turkish and English, too."
+
+"Pasha, to hear is to obey."
+
+At this moment a young negro attendant announced--
+
+"The Ladies Alme and Hannifar are impatient to be admitted to your
+sublime presence."
+
+"Let them wait; it will do them good," cried Mole, desperately. "Have
+you written it, Abdullah?"
+
+"One moment, your highness," was the reply. "There," he added,
+finishing up with an elaborate flourish; "all will understand that. And
+now what am I to do with them?"
+
+"Fasten one notice on my back, and the other on my chest," answered
+Mole, "so that the ladies may understand and keep at a respectful
+distance. That's right. Be still, my trembling heart. Now you can admit
+them."
+
+The negro drew aside the curtains of the chamber, and two female forms
+of majestic height and proportions, in gorgeous Oriental costumes, but
+closely veiled, entered.
+
+They made a very graceful salute to the pasha, and were walking
+straight up to him, when he sprang backwards, and leaping upon a high
+sofa, turned his back to them, not in contempt, but in order that they
+might read the Turkish inscription thereon inscribed.
+
+Then he turned and pointed to it on his breast in English.
+
+Far, however, from being struck with awe and covered with confusion,
+the ladies were highly amused and laughed consumedly.
+
+"What are they smiling at?" asked Mole, somewhat indignantly.
+
+"Only at the felicitous ingenuity of your highness's idea," answered
+the interpreter, pointing to the placard.
+
+"Well, I hope they understand, and will abide by it," said Mole,
+venturing to step off the sofa.
+
+But the moment he did so, the foremost, who, he understood was the Lady
+Alme, and was certainly of an impulsive disposition, sprang forward as
+if to embrace Mole.
+
+"Save me!" he cried. "To the rescue, guards, attendants, Jack, Harry.
+Where can they have got to? Help, help! Mrs. Mole, come to the rescue
+of your poor Mole."
+
+The old interpreter, with some dexterity, flung himself between them,
+just in the nick of time to avert from Mole the fair Circassian's
+effusive greeting.
+
+"'Tis our Eastern custom," explained the dragoman. "Her ladyship is
+only expressing her delight at beholding her new lord and master."
+
+"Tell them I am nothing of the kind, and I have got a wife in England,"
+answered the pasha.
+
+Abdullah did so, whereupon the ladies set up a series of piercing
+shrieks and lamentations.
+
+"What in the world's the matter with them?" asked Mole, greatly
+dismayed.
+
+"They are desolated at the thought of having incurred your sublimity's
+displeasure."
+
+"Tell them that they had no business to come unless I sent for them,"
+said Mole.
+
+"They say, O magnificent pasha, that, hearing of your arrival, they
+have come thither in the name of themselves, and the other eleven
+ladies of his late highness's harem, to know when it will be your
+princely pleasure to bid them cast aside the sombre weeds of widowhood,
+and----"
+
+"There, cut it short, dragoman; do you mean that they really expect me
+to marry the whole lot of them?"
+
+"Precisely so, your eminence; even now the most reverend imaum of the
+town is ready to perform the ceremonial."
+
+"He'll have to wait a long time if he waits for that," cried Mole;
+"thirteen wives, indeed, and these you say are the youngest of the lot.
+I suppose they have no objection to allow me to behold the moonshine of
+their resplendent features. That's the way to put it, I believe, old
+man."
+
+Abdullah answered--
+
+"It is against Turkish etiquette to unveil before the solemn ceremony
+has been performed; nevertheless, their ladyships consent to remove one
+of their veils, through which you may behold their features."
+
+Alme and Hannifar accordingly threw back their outer black veils, and
+appeared with the white ones underneath.
+
+Mole scrutinized them as well as he could, but he took very good care
+not to go too near.
+
+"And so, Abdullah, you tell me that these two are the youngest of the
+whole lot?"
+
+"Indeed, they are, your eminence; famous beauties of pure Circassian
+descent; each originally cost five thousand piastres, and they surpass
+the remainder even as the mighty sun doth the twinkling stars."
+
+"Then all I can say is," returned Mole, "that I shudder to think what
+the eleven others must be like. Just tell the ladies Alme and Hannifar
+that, as far as I can see, from here, I don't think much of them."
+
+"I will put your message more mildly."
+
+And having spoken to the ladies again, he said--
+
+"Their ladyships are enchanted to find so much favour in the eyes of
+your excellency."
+
+"Thirteen wives," mused Mole, scarcely heeding the last reply. "It is
+preposterous--though nothing it seems, compared to some of the Turkish
+grandees. But fancy old Isaac Mole--ha, ha! really it's quite amusing.
+Why, the mere marrying so many would be a hard day's work, Abdullah."
+
+"The ceremony would be slightly wearisome, your highness."
+
+"Yes, but I should require thirteen wedding rings--ha, ha, ha!--the
+idea of thirteen wedding rings being used at once, and by one man."
+
+"Don't let that be any objection," said Abdullah; "for the ladies tell
+me they have come provided with exactly the number of rings requisite
+for the purpose."
+
+Sure enough, Alme detached from her fair neck an elastic band, whereon
+were strung thirteen bright gold rings.
+
+Mole was fairly staggered by this determined preparation on the part of
+the irresistible enslavers.
+
+"They mean to have me," he gasped. "I see how it is; they come here
+with the intention of dragging me to the late pasha's mansion, and
+marrying me by main force."
+
+"It looks like it," answered the interpreter, "for I find that they
+have brought with them a dozen of the harem-guard, fully armed."
+
+"Then I am indeed lost," cried Mole. "But no, I'll die game. Here,
+help, guards, soldiers, fly to the rescue of your pasha. Oh! Mrs. Mole,
+where are you now? Your poor Mole is in danger."
+
+As Mole uttered the piteous lament we have recorded, both ladies made a
+combined charge at him, with a wild shriek and a sudden outburst in
+Turkish, which might have been either a chorus of endearments or of
+reproaches.
+
+Alme got behind him and flung her arms around his neck with such vigour
+that he was nearly strangled, Hannifar attacking him in the same way
+from the front.
+
+In the pressure of this combined assault he was powerless; struggle as
+he would, he could not detach himself from their overwhelming embrace.
+
+His cries for help were smothered.
+
+His turban was knocked over his eyes.
+
+He could feel the placards being torn from him, and himself being
+hauled hither and thither by the ladies who seemed fighting for the
+sole possession of him.
+
+At length, by a gigantic effort, he freed himself and raised a cry of
+alarm that might have aroused the dead, but in that effort, he stumbled
+and fell on his back over a pile of sofa cushions.
+
+Roused by his cries, the military and body guard of the pashalik rushed
+in, and the whole house was in an uproar.
+
+When Mole had been again uplifted to his feet, and was gasping forth
+confused explanations, he perceived that the Ladies Alme and Hannifar
+had mysteriously levanted.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI.
+
+THE SUDDEN RUIN AND UTTER DOWNFALL OF THE GREAT MOLEY PASHA.
+
+
+The ladies' absence was a great relief to Mole. He devoutly hoped that
+he had for ever got rid of the thirteen widows of his late lamented
+predecessor.
+
+About an hour afterwards, when Mole was striving to calm his irritated
+feelings with a cup of coffee and hookah, Jack and Harry arrived, as
+they said, from a walk round the neighbouring country, looking as
+innocent as any of the lambs they may have met on the finely-grassed
+hills.
+
+This innocent look was remarkable, because, as the reader has probably
+suspected, they had really been concerned in Mr. Mole's recent
+adventure.
+
+In short, Jack had been the Alme, and Harry the Hannifar, of the
+domestic scene we have described, the Turkish dress and the ladies'
+custom of keeping veiled, immensely assisting them in the imposture.
+
+"Whatever has been the matter here?" asked Jack. "As we were coming
+along, we heard a dreadful row outside, and saw a large body of troops
+bolting off in a deuce of a hurry."
+
+"Oh, my sons," replied the pasha, in a tone of paternal pathos, "sore
+hath been the wretchedness and distress of your afflicted parent. I
+wish you had been here, then it could not have happened. I'll tell you
+all about it."
+
+Jack and Harry Girdwood had sufficient self-command to listen with
+unmoved countenances to Mr. Mole's account of the adventure, and even
+to express great surprise and alarm at the harrowing details.
+
+"Shall I write home to Mrs. Mole for you, sir?" said Jack.
+
+"For the Lord's sake, no," cried Mole, in dismay.
+
+Then they tried their best to frighten the old tutor, by suggesting
+various deadly schemes of vengeance, which it was very possible the
+ladies of his late highness's seraglio might form against Moley Pasha.
+
+"You must never go out without a strong body guard," said Jack, "for at
+any time they may have you seized and borne off to the harem."
+
+"And you'll have to take care of yourself even at home," added Harry,
+"especially with regard to the food you eat, for in Turkey, those who
+owe a grudge think nothing of paying it out in poison."
+
+"Gracious Heaven! don't talk in that way," cried Mole. "you quite make
+my blood run cold. I think--I hope--I can trust my guards and my new
+attendants."
+
+"I hope so too," replied Jack, shaking his head in grave doubt. "But
+you must always bear in mind that treachery is one of the commonest
+vices of the East; you can't be too careful."
+
+"Oh, Allah, Allah!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, who had slipped naturally into
+a habit of using Turkish interjections; "what a life it is to be a
+pasha. I used to think it was all glory and happiness, but now I find,
+to my grief, that--if this sort of thing goes on, I shall bolt."
+
+It being now far advanced in the evening, the pasha, wearied out with
+the cares and excitements of the day, retired to rest in the Turkish
+fashion, half-dressed, and upon a kind of sofa.
+
+His cork legs, of course, were carefully taken off first.
+
+In this Jack and Harry assisted him.
+
+Moley Pasha went to sleep and to dream of bowstrings, scimitars, and
+various painful forms of execution.
+
+The next morning, however, he arose more hopeful, and fully resolved to
+show himself a vigorous and successful ruler.
+
+In his sumptuous seat in the divan, or hall of audience, Mole began to
+feel like a monarch on his throne, and signed his decrees with all the
+triumphant flourish of a Napoleon.
+
+It was in the height of this power and glory that there arose a sudden
+consternation in court.
+
+Murmurs arose, shouts, mingled with the tramp of many steeds, were
+heard outside.
+
+"What's the matter?" asked the pasha. "Who dares to make a disturbance
+and disturb the pasha? Officer, command silence."
+
+A deadly stillness fell upon the assembly.
+
+For some few moments one might have heard a pin drop.
+
+But distant shouts in the streets, and the tramp of horses recommenced.
+
+The interpreter and Harry and Jack, who stood on each side of the
+pasha, exchanged meaning glances, which partook much of alarm.
+
+Consternation could be perceived on every face in court.
+
+It was evident that something serious was about to occur.
+
+"Whatever is the meaning of this?" cried the pasha, who himself seemed
+to feel no suspicion and alarm. "Abdullah, go and see what it means."
+
+The old interpreter at once hurried to the door.
+
+Jack and Harry, as if impelled by resistless curiosity, followed him.
+
+Karam, the chief of the guard, did the same, and many of those about
+the court followed in a now excited and expectant group.
+
+At this moment, the shouts outside grew louder and fiercer.
+
+An angry consultation, in which half a dozen at least were engaged, all
+talking at once, could be heard, and then Karam, the chief of the
+guard, came rushing back with a face full of dismay.
+
+"Your highness----" he gasped.
+
+"Well, Karam, what's the matter?" asked Mole.
+
+"A grand officer, who calls himself Moley Pasha, the same name as your
+excellency, is outside with a body of troops, and insists upon
+admission."
+
+Mole started from his seat, and almost immediately sank exhausted with
+fright and horror.
+
+He saw now the peril in which he stood, and devoutly wished he were
+safe at home, and in the arms of Mrs. Mole.
+
+"A--pasha--calling himself Moley!" he exclaimed. "What does he want?"
+
+"He declares he has been appointed to this government by the firman of
+his imperial majesty the sultan, and that you--you--pardon, your
+highness--are an impostor."
+
+Mole now knew the worst.
+
+It was all up with him.
+
+But desperation inspired him with an artificial courage; he resolved to
+die game, and keep it up to the last.
+
+"Tell the so-called Moley Pasha," he exclaimed, "that he is the
+impostor. Here, guards, stand round me, and defend your rightful
+governor."
+
+The soldiers wavered.
+
+They began to fear that all was not quite right.
+
+Karam, the captain, also hesitated in enforcing the commands of Mole.
+
+At this moment the scale was turned by Abdullah, the interpreter,
+rushing into the hall, and thundering forth, to the utter amazement and
+consternation of Mole--
+
+"Down with the impostor, my friends. We have all been deceived by this
+usurper, who has forged the sacred signature of our mighty sultan."
+
+Shouts of "Down with the impostor!" now resounded on all sides, and a
+rush was made to drag Mole from his seat.
+
+Poor Mole, he was entirely defenceless.
+
+Jack and Harry did not return; probably they had been secured by the
+enemy.
+
+Mole gave himself up for lost.
+
+He was surrounded by an infuriated crowd, still shouting "Down with the
+impostor! Death to the infidel who dares to wear the colours of the
+blessed Prophet!"
+
+It seems, indeed, that the luckless Mole would have fallen a sacrifice
+to Lynch law, but at this moment the real Moley Pasha, with his troops,
+entered the hall, and at once commanded the infuriated crowd to stop,
+and relinquish their victim.
+
+"Now," said the real Moley Pasha, "bring before me the stranger who has
+so audaciously assumed my title and dignity."
+
+Poor Mole, now a trembling "prisoner at the bar," was brought, bound
+and guarded by soldiers, before the magnate whom of late he had defied.
+
+"Prisoner," said the pasha, sternly, "what do you dare to say for
+yourself in defence of the crime you have committed?"
+
+Mr. Mole, in the deepest fright and humility, made shift to stammer in
+Turkish--
+
+"I don't defend it at all; I--I was egged on to it by that young Jack
+Harkaway."
+
+"What's Harkaway?" now inquired the pasha.
+
+"The youth who came with me, and passed as my son, Yakoob, and his
+friend Harry Girdwood, or Haroun Pasha."
+
+"Ah! two more impostors; bring them forward," said the pasha.
+
+Search was made for Jack and Harry, but they were nowhere to be found.
+
+In the confusion they had contrived to make good their escape.
+
+"Well, we must make an example of the chief offender," said the pasha.
+"Prisoner, I find you have some difficulty in expressing yourself in
+our language, which alone should have stamped you as an impostor. I
+suppose you speak French?" he added, continuing his interrogation in
+that language. "I command you instantly to point out any other
+accomplices in this villainous fraud."
+
+"The interpreter, Abdullah, your highness," said Mole, glad to be
+avenged upon that worthy.
+
+Here Abdullah came forward, making a gesture of disgust, and turning up
+his eyes in pious horror.
+
+"Inshallah! what lies do these dogs speak!" he exclaimed. "I swear to
+your highness, by the prophet, that I knew not, suspected not, till
+this moment that he was other than he seemed."
+
+"You rascally old villain! you deserve bowstringing for this," cried
+Mole.
+
+"Peace!" sternly cried the pasha. "Show me the forgery you dare to call
+the firman of his sublime majesty, the sultan."
+
+Mole instantly produced the unlucky document.
+
+The real Moley Pasha instantly compared it with his own.
+
+"An impudent forgery!" he exclaimed, turning to the cadi of the town,
+who had now arrived, and was much amazed and dismayed at what had
+occurred.
+
+"Pardon me, I entreat, your excellency," said the old cadi. "I trust
+you will let this accusation go no further. In any case, my associates
+in office were quite as much to blame."
+
+"'Twas this Frankish magician who has befooled us with his spells,"
+said several of the town officials.
+
+And they pointed at Mole with fierce and vengeful gestures, which made
+him feel certain that his life would be sacrificed to their vengeance.
+
+"I doubt whether it was witchcraft or mere folly," said the pasha, who
+was much more enlightened than most of his audience. "It seems to me
+that this giaour is very probably the dupe of others. But, in any case,
+he must not go unpunished. Prisoner, your crime is proved, and I
+sentence you to----"
+
+He paused.
+
+Mole fell on his knees.
+
+"To a week's imprisonment in the first place, which will allow time for
+further inquiries to be made, and, if necessary, to communicate and
+receive our sublime Master's commands on the matter. Till then you will
+be kept in solitary confinement, on bread and water, and closely
+guarded."
+
+"Mercy!" Mole found tongue to exclaim. "I trust--I implore that your
+highness will at least spare my wretched life, for I declare----"
+
+"Away with him," interrupted the pasha.
+
+So the unhappy Mole was taken off in chains to his dungeon, bread and
+water, and horrible anticipations of his ultimate fate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII.
+
+MOLE IN "THE DEEPEST DUNGEON"--HOPES OF RESCUE.
+
+
+The unfortunate Isaac Mole was now reduced to a position unprecedented
+even in his varied career.
+
+He was placed in the "deepest dungeon" of the old castle, which was
+used as the town gaol, in a cold stone cell all to himself, and a
+couple of fierce-looking bashi-bazouks to watch him.
+
+Bread and water--both of the stalest--constituted poor Mole's only
+fare, and his lodging was literally "on the cold, cold ground."
+
+The constant fear of a terrible doom haunted him.
+
+It was the third night of his incarceration, and about the middle of
+the night Mole was kept awake by his own depressing thoughts, together
+with the gambols of the rats that infested the dungeon.
+
+Suddenly the deadly stillness was broken by a sound outside, which much
+agitated him.
+
+"Ha, what sound is that?" cried Mole; "yes, oh, joy, it is the sound of
+a flute."
+
+Could he mistake that note?
+
+Who could make such melancholy strains but the desolate orphan--the
+melodious Figgins?
+
+Had Figgins, forgetting all past differences and animosities, come to
+soothe Mole's captivity, in this manner, or--horrible thought!--was it
+a strain of malice or revengeful triumph that emanated from the
+long-suffering and tortured instrument.
+
+But the flute did not long continue playing, and Mole conjectured that
+it was only a signal to which he was expected to respond.
+
+He had no mode whatever of doing so, excepting a melancholy whistle,
+which, however, served its purpose.
+
+Through the bars of the prison, which were far too high up for him to
+reach, a small object suddenly came crashing, and very narrowly did it
+escape falling upon the prisoner's nose.
+
+Reaching out his hand in the dark, Mr. Mole picked it up, and found it
+to be a stone wrapped in paper.
+
+He knew at once that it must be a written message from his friends
+outside, and again he whistled as a signal that he had received it.
+
+A few triumphant notes on the flute responded to this, and then all was
+silent again.
+
+How impatient Mole was for daylight, that he might read the letter.
+
+But it was many hours to that yet, and sleep he found impossible.
+
+At length, a faint streak came through the bars of the gloomy dungeon.
+
+Mole, with some difficulty, dragged himself under this light,
+straightened out the paper, and read thus--
+
+    "ISAAC MOLE, ESQUIRE,--You are not forgotten by your friends, who
+    much lament your misfortune. We very narrowly escaped being caught
+    and served in the same way. We have, through Captain Deering, got
+    hold of the British consul, to whom we have represented the affair
+    to be only a practical joke, not deserving of a severe punishment.
+    So we hope to get you off with a fine, which we will undertake to
+    pay, whatever it may be. Therefore, keep up your pecker, old man,
+    and believe us to be
+
+    "Yours, truly as ever,
+
+    "JACK AND FRIENDS."
+
+"Cool, after the way they've served me," was the tutor's mental comment
+upon this message; "but the question is, Can the British consul, or any
+other man, get me out of the clutches of these ferocious Turks?"
+
+The next night, Mole was able to sleep.
+
+But his sleep was suddenly and fearfully interrupted.
+
+An awful and confused noise, shouting outside, flashing lights through
+the bars, the clash of arms and the hurried tramp of men, indicated
+that the prison was the scene of some warlike commotion.
+
+Mole started up in a state of great alarm, and struggled towards the
+door of his cell.
+
+"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" cried poor Mole, "this is dreadful. Oh, if I was
+only a boy again. I would stick to Old England, and never leave it.
+There, they are at it again. Oh, dear, why did I leave Mrs. Mole?"
+
+The noise was as if there were a mutiny or outbreak of some kind.
+
+Nearer and nearer came the sound of footsteps, louder and louder
+sounded the clashing of arms, and the clanking of chains.
+
+A shout of triumph sounded just outside his cell door, and amidst a
+volley of interjections in Turkish and Arabic, he fancied he could hear
+English shouts of--
+
+"Hurrah! boys, we shall do it. Open every one of the doors, and set
+them all free."
+
+Two heavy bolts were shot back outside, the heavy key was turned in the
+lock, Mole's cell door was opened, and in a burst of torch-light
+entered groups of armed Bedouin Arabs.
+
+Mole shrank back in a corner.
+
+These ferocious Moslems had doubtless come to murder him in hot blood.
+
+In reality their object was quite different.
+
+The event that had happened was not an outbreak within the walls of the
+garrison, but an inbreak of those whose purpose was to rescue the
+captives.
+
+Jack and Harry had the day before put up at the encampment of some
+friendly Arabs, who became more friendly still when they found their
+guests liberal in respect of coinage.
+
+One of the Arabs had a brother in prison awaiting the pasha's further
+orders of punishment, so they were anxious to help Jack and release the
+Arab chief.
+
+Jack and Harry, being informed of this, thought it would be an
+excellent opportunity for the escape of Mole, who was incarcerated in
+the same gaol.
+
+The party set out in the middle of the night.
+
+They soon reached the prison.
+
+Darkness befriended them.
+
+The first step was to gain admission into the outer yard or enclosure.
+
+This they did by suddenly setting upon the two warders outside, and,
+before they could give the alarm, binding, gagging, and disarming them.
+
+Then, mounting one of the sentry-boxes, Jack and Harry, being the
+lightest and most agile members of the party, contrived thus to get
+over the gate, and drop down inside.
+
+Here, with great labour, they forced back the ponderous bolts, and the
+Arabs poured into the building.
+
+The alarm was taken, and the old castle of Alla-hissar, as it was
+called, was all in an uproar.
+
+Gaolers and soldiers, utterly taken aback by this sudden onslaught,
+made but ineffectual resistance.
+
+Ere they could grasp their weapons and put themselves in order of
+defence, the Bedouins were on to them, striking them down, forcing away
+their keys, and ill-treating them in proportion to the resistance to
+the attack they made.
+
+"Tell me, slave," thundered the Arab chief, to one of the gaolers, "in
+which cell my brother Hadj Maimoun is confined?"
+
+"In--in No. 6," answered the man, trembling for his life.
+
+"Art thou sure? Deceive me, dog, and thou diest," continued the chief,
+threateningly placing the muzzle of his pistol to the man's forehead.
+
+"I swear, by the holy tomb of Mecca."
+
+"Enough; and which is the key?"
+
+"It is numbered, great lord: see here, No. 6."
+
+"And the cell lieth----"
+
+"To the right yonder. I will lead your highness thither."
+
+"Do so, and if you attempt to deceive us, not the fiend himself can
+save you from my revenge. Come on, friends; Hadj Maimoun shall be
+free."
+
+A wild shout of triumph rose from the Arabs.
+
+In a few moments they had reached the cell indicated, where a young
+Arab, in heavy chains, looked up at their entrance.
+
+The chief recognised his brother.
+
+"Strike off these chains, villain!" the Arab then commanded the gaoler.
+
+The chains dropped off the young Arab, whereat his friends raised
+another triumphant shout--
+
+"Allah, Allah, Allah! Glory be to the Prophet. Hadj Maimoun is free."
+
+By this time the prison was fairly in the hands of the victorious
+invaders.
+
+One man, however, managed to slip out, and made the best of his way to
+the town to rouse the pasha and other officials.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII.
+
+THE RESCUE OF MOLE.
+
+
+Mr. Mole's place of incarceration would have been difficult to find in
+that large rambling old building, had not Jack, by similar threats to
+those of the Arab chief, forced one of the gaolers to tell him the
+number of the cell.
+
+Armed with this information and a bunch of keys, Jack made his way to
+the deepest dungeon, followed by the rest.
+
+Mole's cell was the most remote, and therefore the last they came to.
+
+"Mercy, mercy! don't kill an unfortunate prisoner, who has got three
+wives somewhere about the world, and a lot of little black and white
+children to look after!" cried Mr. Mole, still confused by the tumult
+around him, and the ferocious aspect of the new-comers.
+
+"Kill you, Mr. Mole; why, we've come to let you out," said the foremost
+of the group, and he flung back the cowl of his Moorish cloak, thereby
+revealing to Mole the startling fact, that instead of a murderous Arab,
+it was young Jack Harkaway.
+
+Harry was close to him.
+
+A very few words now revealed to Mole the actual state of affairs.
+
+"Oh, my boys, my boys," he exclaimed, "what I have suffered all through
+you. But still, Jack, my boy, I was not afraid of them. No, my boy, I
+intended to have fought to the last, and I have no doubt I should have
+killed a dozen or two of 'em."
+
+"No doubt, sir; but let us get out of this," said Jack. "Come on."
+
+"But my hands are fastened with these heavy chains," said Mole.
+
+"Bring a hammer and a chisel, you fellows," called out Jack, "and we'll
+have 'em off in no time."
+
+The ex-pasha was therefore operated upon, and in a few minutes the
+chains were off, and Mole was nearly a free man--not quite free,
+however, for by this time the whole neighbourhood was up in arms; the
+pasha had been roused in a hurry, and mustering his troops, had hurried
+off to the gaol.
+
+"We shall have to fight for it, lads," cried Jack, drawing his Arab
+sabre; "we must cut our way through them, or we're lost to a
+certainty."
+
+The Bedouins were prepared to follow their leader to the death.
+
+The chief Zenaib, with his brother, Hadj Maimoun, led the desperate
+enterprise, and the numbers of their followers were now increased by
+all the escaped prisoners.
+
+As they came rushing out, they were opposed by twice their number of
+well-armed troops, whom they had to cut through as best they could.
+
+It was a desperate conflict.
+
+Hand-to-hand, cut-and-thrust, bullets discharged from pistols and
+muskets, fierce charges with bayonets, continued for half an hour.
+
+The confusion was dreadful, the noise deafening, numbers of men killed
+and wounded on both sides making the result far more tragic than our
+hero and his companion had ever anticipated or desired.
+
+The prisoners fought to secure their liberty, the Arabs out of hatred
+to the Turks, while Jack and Harry, with no particular animosity
+against either party, now fought desperately in self-defence.
+
+They received several severe cuts, and in a short time got entirely
+separated from their friend Mole.
+
+He, meantime, half propped up against the wall, was valorously holding
+out against his former gaoler, who was trying to recapture him. At
+length, the Arabs, finding it impossible to break their way through so
+large a body of disciplined troops, fell back, and their destruction
+would have been inevitable.
+
+But, at this moment, one of the half-escaped prisoners called out that
+he had discovered a back entrance, on the other side of a building,
+through which they might all make their exit.
+
+The Arab chief accordingly ordered an immediate retreat.
+
+The Turkish soldiers, seeing this manoeuvre, gave chase to them, whilst
+others were ordered round to intercept their flight at the back.
+
+Jack and Harry having returned to Mole, took him between them; each one
+holding an arm, they got along as swiftly as the cork legs and feet of
+the _ci-devant_ pasha would allow.
+
+But as ill-luck would have it, on emerging from one of the alleys, they
+met the detachment of Turkish soldiers, who at once rushed upon them.
+
+The whole three gave themselves up for lost.
+
+Mole at length stumbled, and fell heavily to the ground.
+
+"Save yourselves at once," he groaned. "Don't mind me; I'm done for, I
+can't get a step further. Oh, dear, and my head's all bleeding from
+that sword cut. Run! Make haste, my dear boy; the wretches are firing
+at us!"
+
+Reluctantly the two youths obeyed the instinct of self-preservation, by
+letting go the hands of the old tutor, and turning round, they
+immediately dived into one of the adjoining alleys.
+
+It was just in time, for at that moment, two musket balls whizzed so
+close to them that the difference of a mere inch would have been
+certain death.
+
+It was a narrow escape for them; but once out of sight of the soldiers,
+they finally reached a place of perfect safety, and after all, as Harry
+remarked--
+
+"A miss is as good as a mile."
+
+Meanwhile, Mole's catalogue of misfortunes were still being added to.
+
+Picked up, bleeding and exhausted, by the soldiers, he was instantly
+taken before the officer commanding the troops.
+
+Several Arabs, a few Turkish soldiers, and two of the gaolers had been
+killed, and there were many wounded men that required attending to.
+
+The commander had enough to do in restoring matters to order, therefore
+he left the punishment of Mole to his lieutenant.
+
+"Remove all the prisoners, for the present, to the guardroom," said the
+lieutenant. "When I open my council at noon in the divan bring them all
+before me."
+
+"Your excellency's word is law," answered the head gaoler, bowing.
+
+The lieutenant turned his horse, and, followed by his bodyguard, rode
+home in a very ill temper.
+
+An hour or two's rest, however, and the soothing effects of pipe and
+coffee, had somewhat restored his equanimity by the time he re-entered
+the divan.
+
+Punctually at noon, the prisoners were brought before him by the head
+gaoler.
+
+"Let me see," said the lieutenant, referring to the document, and
+checking off the captives as they were identified; "horse-stealing,
+highway robbery, drunkenness, assault--yes, I have resolved what to do.
+As these offences seem comparatively light, and as our prison is for
+the present inefficient, I shall order all these men to be punished
+with the bastinado."
+
+"There is one more," said the lieutenant. "This, I find, is the
+wretched Frank who dared to personate our great pasha."
+
+"Nothing escapes your honour's penetration," answered the vizier.
+
+"Such a crime deserves a heavier punishment. However, when his turn
+comes, give him twenty-five blows."
+
+"It shall be done, illustrious governor," was the response.
+
+And forthwith were summoned the two burly officials whose unpopular
+duty it was to administer castigation.
+
+One bore a stout rattan, the other several pieces of strong rope.
+
+The frame to which they were to be lashed was then brought into the
+room, it being the lieutenant's intention that the punishment should be
+administered in his presence.
+
+The first prisoner was then seized, and his slippers--stockings not
+being worn by the majority of Turks--taken off.
+
+He was then bound hand and foot, and securely tied to the frame.
+
+The two executioners then took it in turns to administer ten heavy
+blows upon the bare soles of the criminal.
+
+At the first blow, the patient set up a howl, which seemed but to
+increase the vigour and energy of the operator.
+
+It was indeed a terrible sight for any person of sensitiveness to see a
+human being--though deserving--suffer in this manner.
+
+Mole, however, didn't feel any anxiety on that score, and he made up
+his mind to do the brave and noble Englishman, for he knew that they
+might hammer away at his cork soles for ever, without hurting him much.
+
+What troubled him was the probability that they would take his
+stockings off, and discovering the insensate nature of his
+"understandings," order him some other and more deadly punishment.
+
+So, after the infliction of seeing several men suffer, with various
+degrees of bravery and cowardice, and all variety of groans and
+contortions, Mole heard himself called up for similar castigation.
+
+He had, in the meantime, thought of a _ruse_.
+
+Then, marching up boldly to the lieutenant, he addressed him--
+
+"I know I fully deserve your dreadful but just sentence and quietly
+will I submit myself to the torture; but, I entreat you, do not compel
+me to remove my stockings, which, among my countrymen, is considered
+the deepest degradation and never inflicted, save upon criminals
+sentenced to death."
+
+"H'm!" said the lieutenant, somewhat moved. "For my part, I would just
+as soon suffer the infliction with bare feet as through a thin layer of
+stocking."
+
+"But my feelings as an Englishman," pleaded Mole.
+
+"Well, be it as you wish. Take off your shoes only; but, Hamed,
+remember to give it to him a little harder, to make up for the
+stockings."
+
+"Great lieutenant, I will obey. The force of the blows shall be
+doubled."
+
+At this moment, Mole saw the eyes of Tinker fixed upon him, and he knew
+he should yet get help.
+
+Mole then submitted himself resignedly to the hands of the torturers.
+
+Binding him like the others, hand and foot, they tied him to the frame,
+and the chief castigator, rolling up his sleeves, proceeded to belabour
+Mole's soles with terrific energy.
+
+The blows sounded fearfully loud and sharp, and each was given with
+such vigour that even the framework creaked under it.
+
+But the victim showed no pain or terror.
+
+He did not cry out, nor flinch in the least, nor strive to mitigate the
+pain by twisting about.
+
+Thus ten heavy blows were given, and the inflictor paused.
+
+A murmur of astonishment ran round the assembly.
+
+"Truly the Frank hath wondrous strength and courage," exclaimed the
+lieutenant.
+
+"Englishman are generally brave," said an old Turk; "but I never knew
+one who would silently undergo such pain as this."
+
+"Make the next ten blows harder."
+
+The second man, therefore, in his turn, rained down upon the inanimate
+soles of the ex-pasha, such fearful blows as resounded through the
+place, and made many spectators shudder.
+
+But still the victim neither flinched nor cried out.
+
+"_Bismallah!_ this is truly wonderful, that a giaour so old, so grey,
+so apparently feeble, should thus bear so terrible a punishment.
+Harder, Selim. Now do you not feel it, prisoner?"
+
+"Of course I feel it, great pasha; it even tickles my beard," replied
+Mole; "but heaven hath given me power to withstand this terrible
+torture, and the high spirit of an Englishman forbids me to cry out."
+
+"I could scarcely have believed it, did I not behold it with my own
+eyes," said the puzzled lieutenant. "Selim, a little harder."
+
+"Your eminence, the tale of blows is fully counted," said the man,
+laying aside his cane.
+
+"Five-and-twenty already? I was so interested with the prisoner's
+fortitude, that I didn't count them. He has not suffered enough yet;
+give him five blows more."
+
+"I am ready," said Mole, stroking his false beard. "Remember, an
+Englishman fears not pain. Strike away."
+
+And he stretched out his cork legs to their full extent.
+
+Five blows more were given, but had no more effect than the previous
+ones.
+
+"By the holy kaaba! but this amounts to a miracle," exclaimed the
+lieutenant. "I shall begin to respect the infidel for his heroism.
+Hamed, give him ten more blows; no, make it twenty, and do you, Selim,
+assist. That will be fifty; just double the amount of the sentence. If
+he flinches not this time, he will deserve being let off altogether."
+
+And in truth, it would, under ordinary circumstances, have wanted
+well-nigh the strength of Samson or Hercules to endure such torture as
+now came upon the schoolmaster.
+
+Hamed and Selim, each armed with a heavy rattan, rained down
+alternately thick and fast, a shower of blows upon Mole's wonderful
+feet, which even shook the room, but still couldn't shake Mole's
+resolution.
+
+He writhed not, nor uttered cry, and showed not the faintest sign of
+giving way.
+
+On the contrary, he jeered at the men.
+
+"Bah! see how an Englishman can bear pain," exclaimed Mole.
+
+And to the intense astonishment of the Turks, he plucked out a
+good-sized handful of hair from his beard and threw before the officer.
+
+"Allah is--ah!"
+
+And the Turk stopped in the midst of his speech to spit out a second
+handful which Mole, with good aim, had thrown into his mouth.
+
+"Wonderful!" exclaimed the bystanders, as Mole tore away at his false
+beard till he had nearly stripped the framework, while the tormentors
+worked away at his feet with redoubled energy.
+
+"Stop, stop," cried the pasha, for the men in their energy had exceeded
+even the fifty blows without knowing it, and seemed to be going on
+_ad libitum_, "stop; unbind and release the prisoner."
+
+The two men, who were bathed in perspiration through their exertions,
+accordingly removed Mole's bonds, assisted him to his feet, and helped
+him put on his shoes.
+
+"Prisoner," said the lieutenant, "your heroic conduct this day has won
+my deepest admiration. Be seated, and rest your poor feet, and then
+tell me something of your history."
+
+"My poor feet will still support me, therefore I will not be seated,
+but standing thus," said Mole, stamping his cork feet on the ground,
+"will show you something wonderful."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIX.
+
+MOLE PASHA ASTONISHES THE NATIVES STILL MORE--THE ORDER OF THE GLASS
+BUTTON.
+
+
+"I am all attention," replied the lieutenant.
+
+"I came from a land," said Mr. Mole, with a grandiloquent flourish,
+"where we despise physical suffering."
+
+The august Turks around were filled with wonder and with admiration for
+the speaker.
+
+After what they had witnessed, they were prepared to credit Mr. Mole's
+most extravagant assertions.
+
+"Would you have some further proof of my great courage?" demanded Mr.
+Mole, folding his arms and striking a defiant attitude.
+
+"Brave man, what more can you show us of your courage?" was the reply.
+
+"Behold!" cried Mole.
+
+The whole assembly eyed Mr. Mole's movements with the greatest
+curiosity now.
+
+"Bring me a dozen sharp implements, such as swords, knives, daggers,
+etc, etc."
+
+They were brought to him, and he then laid them down in a row upon the
+carpet.
+
+The first was a needle of the dimensions of an ordinary bodkin.
+
+Next this, was a small iron skewer.
+
+After this came a long-bladed dagger knife.
+
+And finally, there was a cut-and-thrust sword of alarming dimensions.
+
+"You shall see now," said Mole, sternly, "how I can despise such
+trivialities as your bastinado."
+
+What was he about to do now?
+
+In solemn silence, Mr. Mole bared his right calf, then requested the
+company of his black servant Tinker, who was still in the hall.
+
+The request was granted.
+
+"Tinker."
+
+"Yes, Massa Mole."
+
+"Go and fetch me----"
+
+Here he sank his voice to a whisper, and the rest of his instructions
+were heard by no one save the darkey, for whom they were intended.
+
+In the course of a few moments, Tinker returned and passed something
+slyly into Mr. Mole's hand.
+
+It was a small sponge in an oil-skin bag.
+
+Yet it appeared to be saturated with something, to judge by the way it
+was handled, for Mr. Mole slyly put it in his pocket.
+
+Mr. Mole then took up the smallest of the row of implements just
+described.
+
+"Behold what an Englishman can do!"
+
+And then to the amazement of the spectators, he thrust the needle into
+the thick part of his calf.
+
+A quiet smile played about the corners of his mouth.
+
+But no sign of the slightest suffering.
+
+"Judge how much your bastinado can affect me," he said, with superb
+disdain.
+
+"Allah be praised!" ejaculated the Turk; "wondrous man."
+
+"Behold," pursued Mole, picking up the skewer.
+
+He passed it fairly through his calf, and stood there with his foot
+firmly planted on the ground, gazing about him like another "monarch of
+all he surveyed."
+
+"Look again."
+
+And Mole took up a large nail, and hammered it into his foot, so that
+he was pinned to the floor.
+
+"Allah be praised!" again shouted the Turks.
+
+"One more proof," he said, disdainfully.
+
+He picked up another dagger, and pushed it resolutely into the ill-used
+leg.
+
+At the same time he held the calf with his left hand, in which he
+concealed, with considerable dexterity, the sponge which Tinker had
+brought him.
+
+Blood now trickled slowly through Mr. Mole's fingers, and ran down his
+legs and feet.
+
+A thrill of terror passed through the assemblage.
+
+"Yet another proof," exclaimed Mole, grandly.
+
+"No more, no more," exclaimed the Turk.
+
+Mole withdrew the nail from his foot, and the dagger from his leg, and
+seizing the sword, he thrust it with ferocious energy into the other
+mutilated leg.
+
+He pressed his hand to the wound, and the blood flowed out in a small
+torrent, while the spectators groaned.
+
+Mole looked round him proudly--defiantly.
+
+Had he just conquered on the field of Waterloo, he could not have shown
+a greater apparent belief in himself.
+
+He smiled sardonically as he bound up the wounded legs with his scarf.
+
+Mr. Mole here nearly spoilt his exhibition of his marvellous power of
+endurance, for pricking his finger accidentally with a pin, he sang out
+lustily, much to the astonishment of the Turks.
+
+But he was lucky to recover himself in time before the Turks could
+divine what had occurred.
+
+"You must invent something more violent than any punishment I have yet
+seen here, if you would subdue the soul of Isaac Mole."
+
+And he strode along with the air of the heavy man in a transpontine
+melodrama.
+
+The marvellous exhibition of endurance aroused the phlegmatic Turk to
+real enthusiasm.
+
+"Mole Pasha," he exclaimed, "you are a great hero. I shall seek an
+audience of his highness the Sultan, and beg of him for you some mark
+of distinction, perhaps even to confer upon you the distinguished order
+of the glass button."
+
+"The glass bottle would be more in your excellency's way, Mole Pasha,"
+suggested Tinker.
+
+And henceforth when Mole walked abroad, the population was aroused.
+
+"Behold the bravest Frank that ever lived," they said. "He is a great
+hero."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX.
+
+THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS--THE POISONED DAGGER.
+
+
+As young Jack was sauntering through the streets of the town one day,
+he fancied that he was being followed by a man who was dressed in a
+semi-Oriental garb, but whose head was shaded by a broad-brimmed hat.
+
+Jack was not given to fear without a cause, yet he certainly did feel
+uncomfortable now.
+
+At first he thought of turning round and facing the man sharply.
+
+But this, he reflected, might lead to a rupture.
+
+A rupture was to be most carefully avoided.
+
+He was determined, however, to assure himself that he was followed.
+
+With this view, he made a circuitous tour of the city.
+
+Still the man was there like his very shadow.
+
+"This is unendurable," muttered Jack.
+
+So he drew up short.
+
+Grasping a pistol, which he carried in his pocket, with a nervous grip,
+he waited for the man to come up.
+
+But the man did not come up.
+
+He disappeared suddenly, at the very moment that Jack was expecting to
+come into collision with him.
+
+How strange!
+
+Jack was not conscious of having an enemy--at least not one in that
+part of the world.
+
+"Very strange," he muttered; "very strange!"
+
+And brooding over this episode, Jack wended his way thoughtfully
+homewards.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"Hah!"
+
+Crossing the very threshold of his residence, Jack was suddenly and
+swiftly assaulted.
+
+The same semi-Oriental figure had stolen stealthily up behind him, and
+with a murderous-looking knife dealt him a sharp, swift blow.
+
+Jack bounded forward, and turned round pistol in hand, but so nearly
+fatal had been the blow that Jack's coat was ripped down the back.
+
+"Hah!"
+
+The assassin was marvellously nimble; although Jack made a dart after
+him pistol in hand, meaning to wreak summary vengeance upon him, the
+ruffian contrived to vanish again--mysteriously.
+
+Strangely disturbed by this, Jack went home and related to his friends
+what had taken place.
+
+"This is a rum go," said Mr. Mole; "you have been mistaken for somebody
+else."
+
+"So I suppose," returned Jack.
+
+"What's to be done?" said Harry Girdwood.
+
+"Lodge information with the police at once, I should say," suggested
+Mole.
+
+"By all means."
+
+"What was he like?"
+
+"I could scarcely see," was Jack's reply, "for he was gone like a
+phantom."
+
+"Perhaps it was a phantom," suggested Harry slily.
+
+"I should be half inclined to think so," said Jack, "if I hadn't
+received this solid proof that he was flesh and blood."
+
+Saying which, he turned round and displayed the back of his coat,
+ripped open by the assassin's dagger.
+
+"Well," exclaimed Mole aghast, "that is cool."
+
+"I'm glad you think so," returned Jack, "for I can tell you it was much
+too warm for me."
+
+"Well, we shall soon leave this wretched place, I hope," said Mole,
+"for I don't feel safe of my life. I am expecting every day to be had
+up again before the pasha."
+
+"We must always be on the watch now," said Harry Girdwood; "constant
+vigilance will he necessary to avert danger."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Let us follow the movements of the would-be assassin.
+
+The secret of his sudden disappearance was really no great mystery
+after all.
+
+Darting round the first corner so as to put a house between himself and
+Jack's pistol, he found himself suddenly seized by a vigorous hand, and
+dragged through an open doorway.
+
+"Let go," hissed the assassin, fiercely, "or----"
+
+He raised his long-bladed knife to strike, but before he could bring
+his arm down, the dagger was beaten from his grasp.
+
+"Now," said the stranger planting his foot firmly upon the knife,
+"listen to me."
+
+"You speak English," said the assassin, in surprise.
+
+"Because you spoke English to me," was the reply; "until then, I took
+you for one of us."
+
+"What do you want with me?" demanded the Englishman, doggedly.
+
+"Not much," returned the other, speaking with great fluency, although
+his foreign accent was strongly marked. "I have saved you from the
+consequences of your failure. Had my friendly hand not been there to
+drag you out of sight, your young countryman would have shot you."
+
+"Well," returned the assassin, surlily, "I owe you my thanks, and----"
+
+"Stop--tell me would you like to succeed in this in spite of your late
+failure?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I will give you a safe and sure method."
+
+"My eternal thanks," began the foiled ruffian.
+
+The stranger interrupted him.
+
+"Reserve your thanks. Tell me what you can offer if I help you."
+
+"Money!"
+
+"How much will you give to see your enemy removed from your path?"
+
+"I will give a good round sum," returned the Englishman, eagerly.
+
+"Name a sum."
+
+He did.
+
+A good round sum it was too.
+
+"Now, then," said the Turk, producing a small phial containing a pale
+greenish fluid. "Observe this."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Anoint your dagger with this. Scratch him with it; let your scratch be
+no more than the prick of a pin, and he will be beyond the aid of
+mortal man."
+
+"Is this sure?"
+
+"Beyond all doubt. Would you have proof?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Wait here a moment."
+
+The Turk left the room, and presently he appeared carrying a small iron
+cage.
+
+"Look."
+
+He held up the cage, and showed that it contained two large rats.
+
+"Now," said he, "remove the stopper and dip your dagger's point in."
+
+The Englishman obeyed.
+
+"Now, prick either of the rats ever so slightly."
+
+The Englishman pushed the point of the dagger through the bars of the
+cage, and one of the rats came to sniff at it--probably anticipating a
+savoury tit-bit to eat.
+
+Moving the dagger slightly, it barely grazed the rat's nose.
+
+But it sufficed.
+
+The poor beast shivered once, and sank dead.
+
+"What do you say now?" demanded the Turk.
+
+"I am satisfied," replied the Englishman.
+
+"Now, before you go," said the Turk, "I will give you a hint. The
+slightest scratch will suffice, as you see."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Dip two ordinary pins in the poison, and send them by letter to your
+enemy. Place them so that in opening the envelope, he will probably
+scratch his finger."
+
+The Englishman's eyes sparkled viciously.
+
+"I will, I will."
+
+"Let me know the result, and should you want my aid, you will note well
+the house on leaving so as to know where to return."
+
+"Yes. What is your name?" demanded the Englishman.
+
+"Hadji Nasir Ali," was the reply; "and yours?"
+
+The other hesitated.
+
+"Don't give it unless you feel it is safe," said the Turk.
+
+"There's no harm in your knowing it," returned the Englishman. "My name
+is Harkaway."
+
+"Hark-a-way?"
+
+"In one word."
+
+"I see. Farewell, then."
+
+"Farewell."
+
+And the interview was concluded.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"That letter is a splendid dodge. Look out, Master Jack Harkaway, look
+out, for I mean to cry quits now, or my name is not Herbert Murray,"
+muttered the Englishman, as he walked away.
+
+But how Herbert Murray had got to Turkey requires some explanation.
+
+It will be within our readers' recollection that after his unsuccessful
+attempt on Chivey's life, and the adventure of the groom with the old
+Spaniard, Murray found himself on board the same ship as his groom.
+
+He resolved to make the best of this circumstance, as it could not now
+be altered.
+
+A few days after leaving the Spanish coast they put into one of the
+Mediterranean ports, and there heard that young Jack and his friends
+had gone on to Turkey.
+
+"I'll follow them!" exclaimed Murray. "I can do as I like now the
+governor's gone and I've plenty of tin, so look out for yourself, Jack
+Harkaway."
+
+Murray's ship was delayed by adverse weather, but at length reached
+port, and Herbert had scarcely put foot on shore, when he beheld young
+Jack, the object of his deadly hate, walking coolly down the street
+smoking a cigar.
+
+This so enraged Murray that he hastened to disguise himself in Oriental
+attire, and then made the attempt on Jack's life which we have related.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+That same night a man was found dead on the threshold of the house in
+which Jack Harkaway and his friends resided.
+
+How he had died no one could imagine, for he had not a scratch on his
+body.
+
+Yet, stay.
+
+There was a scratch.
+
+Just that and no more.
+
+In his fast-clenched hand was found an envelope addressed to Mr. John
+Harkaway, and on a closer examination a pin's point was seen sticking
+through the paper.
+
+This had just pricked the messenger's hand.
+
+So slightly that, had not the tiny wound turned slightly blue, it would
+have entirely escaped notice.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Jack was now aware that he had in Turkey a deadly enemy, but who he was
+he could not yet tell.
+
+When the men of skill assembled around the body, they were puzzled to
+assign a cause of death until one of them suggested it was apoplexy. So
+apoplexy it was unanimously set down for.
+
+There was no more fuss made.
+
+The man was only a poor devil of a Circassian, who got a precarious
+livelihood as a public messenger. So they
+
+                "Rattled his bones
+                Over the stones,
+    Like those of a pauper whom nobody owns."
+
+And meanwhile, his murderer went his way.
+
+"Fortunate I gave the name of Harkaway to that old professional
+poisoner, for they will never trace this job to me."
+
+There was, however, one result from this using of Jack Harkaway's name
+which Herbert Murray certainly never contemplated.
+
+But of this we must speak hereafter.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+In spite of his knowledge of the fact that he had enemies following his
+footsteps, our hero would not remain in the house.
+
+"I am quite as safe in the street as here," said he, in reply to Harry
+Girdwood's representations of the danger he ran, "and I am sure, old
+boy, you would not have me show the white feather."
+
+"You never did that, and never will; but you need not run into
+unnecessary danger."
+
+"'Thrice is he armed who has his quarrel just,' and his revolver well
+loaded. Ta-ta! I am just going to stroll down to this Turkish
+substitute for a postoffice, and see if last night's steamer brought
+any letters."
+
+So Jack strolled down accordingly, and found a letter for him.
+
+His heart beat with joy as he recognised the handwriting, and he
+hurried home to read it.
+
+On breaking open the envelope, out tumbled a beautiful carte de visite
+portrait, a copy of which we are able to give, as we still thoroughly
+retain young Jack's friendship and confidence.
+
+He kissed it till he began to fear he might spoil the likeness, and
+then placing it on the table before him, began to read.
+
+And this is the letter--
+
+    "DEAR JACK,--_You very naughty boy. Where have you been,
+    and why have you not written? I have a great mind to scold you,
+    sir; but on second thoughts, I think I had better leave the task of
+    correcting you to your parents, who, perhaps, have more influence
+    with you than I have. You don't know, dear, how anxious we have all
+    been about you. Poor Mr. Mole has started in search of you. Have
+    you seen him yet?--and if you don't write soon, I shall feel
+    obliged to try and find out what has become of you, for I almost
+    begin to fear that some fair Turkish or Circassian girl_----"
+
+"The deuce!" Jack thought; "she can't have heard any thing of that
+affair yet. If Mole has written, the letter could not have reached
+England on the 20th of last month."
+
+Then he continued--
+
+    "----_has stolen your heart, and Harry Girdwood's too. Why, poor
+    Paquita always has red eyes when she gets up. So, darling Jack, do
+    write at once, and cheer our hearts. I can't help writing like
+    this, for I feel so fearful that something has happened to you. So
+    be a dear, good boy, and send a full account of all your doings to
+    your father, and just a few lines to
+
+    "Your ever faithful and affectionate._
+
+    "EMILY.
+
+    "_P.S.--I was just reading this over to see if I had been too
+    cross, when your father came in with a photographer, who took my
+    portrait without my knowing anything about it. Do you think it like
+    me, sir?_"
+
+Then followed three or four of those blots which ladies call "kisses."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI.
+
+MR. MOLE AGAIN OUT OF LUCK.
+
+
+Herbert Murray, attended by Chivey, was strolling down the principal
+street of the town, smoking his cigar, thinking how he could yet serve
+out young Jack, when he suddenly saw, on in front, the figure of an
+elderly man, who appeared to walk with difficulty.
+
+He made such uncertain steps and singular movements, as he hobbled
+along by the aid of a stick, that the effect, however painful to him,
+was ludicrous to the onlookers.
+
+"Why, blest if it ain't old Mole, the man who came to bid young
+Harkaway and his friends good-bye when we sailed," cried Chivey.
+
+"Or his ghost," said Murray.
+
+"I'll have a lark with him, sir," said the tiger, laying his finger
+aside his nose, and winking knowingly. "You see!"
+
+And walking nimbly and on tiptoe behind the old man, he soon caught up
+to him without his knowing it.
+
+Murray halted at a little distance, ready to behold and enjoy the
+discomfiture of Mole.
+
+The reader must be informed that the venerable Isaac was then
+experimenting upon a new substitute for those unfortunate much damaged
+members, his cork legs.
+
+An American genius, with whom he had recently made acquaintance in the
+town, had induced Mole to try a pair of his "new patent-elastic-spring-
+non-fatiguing-self-regulating-undistinguishable-everlasting cork legs."
+
+The inventor had helped Mr. Mole to put on these formidable
+"understandings," and given him every instruction with regard to their
+management.
+
+"They'll be a little creaky at first," said the American; "nothing in
+nature works slick when it's quite new, but when you get 'em well into
+wear, they'll go along like greased lightning; now try them, old hoss."
+
+Creaky indeed they were, for they made a noise almost as loud as a
+railway break; but what was even worse was that the Yankee had failed
+to inform Mole of the fact that the "new patent" etc., were only fitted
+to act perfectly on a smooth surface.
+
+Now the roadway, or footway--for they are all the same in those old
+Turkish towns--are the very reverse of smooth, being principally
+composed of round nubbly stones.
+
+Consequently Mole's locomotion was the reverse of pleasant.
+
+Chivey crept up behind the old schoolmaster, and seizing an opportunity
+and one of his legs, gave it a pull, which caused Mole to roar with
+fright.
+
+Down, of course, came Mole on the nubbly pavement, but Chivey didn't
+have exactly the fun he expected, for instead of his getting safely
+away, Mole fell on him.
+
+"Oh, it's you, is it? You, the bad servant of a bad man's wicked son,"
+exclaimed the angered tutor; "it's you who dare to set upon defenceless
+age and innocence, with its new cork legs on? Very good. Then take
+that, and I hope you won't like it."
+
+Whereat he began pommelling away at Chivey.
+
+Chivey roared with all his might, till a small crowd of wondering
+onlookers began to collect.
+
+"What do you mean by daring to assault my servant in this manner?"
+asked Murray sternly, as he came up.
+
+"He attacked me first," protested Mole; "and it's my belief you set him
+on to do it."
+
+"How dare you insinuate----" began Murray, and he violently shook the
+old man by the collar.
+
+But there was more spirit in Mole than Herbert was prepared for.
+
+By the aid of a post, the old man managed to struggle to his feet, and
+leaning against this, he felt he could defy the enemy.
+
+"My lad," he said, "it's evident that you didn't get enough flogging
+when you were at school, or you'd know better manners; I must take you
+in hand a bit now, sir, there!"
+
+With his stick he gave a cut to the palm of Murray's hand, just as he
+was wont to do to refractory pupils in the old days.
+
+Murray was livid with rage.
+
+Chivey, now rather afraid of Mole, didn't interfere.
+
+"Come on, if you like, and have some more," said Mole, and shaking his
+stick at both of them, he again urged on his wild career.
+
+Very wild indeed it was, too.
+
+Mole's patent legs, which outwardly looked natural ones, were indeed
+self-regulating, for they were soon utterly beyond the control of the
+wearer; they seemed to be possessed of wills of their own; one wished
+to go to the right, the other to the left.
+
+Sometimes they would carry him along in double quick march time, and
+anon halt, beyond all his power of budging.
+
+Of course the boys of the town were attracted by the stranger's
+singular movements, and began to hoot and jeer.
+
+The merchants were interrupted at their calculations, the bazaar
+keepers came to their doors, long pipe in mouth, to see what the "son
+of Sheitan" was about.
+
+Mole was red in the face with such hard work.
+
+"Confound the Turks," he cried; "why don't they make their roads
+smoother? Oh, dear, I wish I could manage these unhappy legs; there
+they go."
+
+By this time the crowd had become unpleasantly dense around him.
+
+"Out of the way, un-Christian dogs," cried Mole, flourishing his stick
+round his head; "I'm an Englishman, and I've a right to--hallo! there
+it goes again."
+
+    [Illustration: "'OUT OF THE WAY, UNCHRISTIAN DOGS,' CRIED
+    MOLE."--TINKER, VOL. II.]
+
+For here his left leg took two steps to the right, and he came down
+with all his weight upon the toe of a white-bearded Alla-hissite.
+
+"Son of a dog," growled the old Turk, as he rubbed his pet corn in
+agony; "may your mother's grave be defiled, and the jackass bray over
+your father's bones."
+
+"I really beg your pardon," began Mole, but just at this moment his
+right leg was taken with a spasmodic action, and began to stride along
+at a furious rate, creaking like mad.
+
+Mole lost all control (if he ever had any) over his own movements, and
+was carried forward again, till he came where Herbert Murray and
+Chivey, having made a _detour_, happened to be just turning the
+corner of the street.
+
+"Stop me," yelled Mole, as he flourished his stick over his head; "my
+spring legs are doing what they like with me. I have no control over
+them. Oh, dear, they are at it again."
+
+Chivey, undeterred by his recent castigation, thought he would repeat
+the trick, so, when Mole came up, he, by a dexterous jerk, turned him
+round as on a pivot.
+
+He was thus stopped in his forward course, but this didn't check the
+action of his clockwork legs, which now scudded along as swiftly as
+before, into the very heart of the yelling crowd.
+
+The result was rather bad for the Turks; they went down like a lot of
+ninepins before Mole's railway-like progression.
+
+"A mad Christian," they cried; "he is possessed with a devil; down with
+him."
+
+The perspiration streamed from Mole's face; he felt that if the
+spring-work in his new cork legs did not stop, he should die.
+
+At this moment a body of women approached, closely veiled.
+
+Their _yashmaks_ obscured all but their eyes, which could be seen to
+open wide in wonder at the extraordinary behaviour of the red-faced
+giaour.
+
+Two of the younger and slender ones fell with piercing screams before
+Mole's impetuous charge.
+
+A third, a stout woman of middle age, stood her ground, and Mole,
+before he could stop himself, rushed into her arms, and floored her.
+
+The scream she gave surpassed in loudness that of all the others put
+together; and brought up several ferocious-looking Turks, bent on
+condignly punishing the outrageous conduct of the mad Englishman.
+
+"Death to the giaour; down with him!" roared the excited crowd.
+
+What fate he would have suffered we dread to think, but he found an
+unexpected deliverer in the person of the old white-bearded Turk, whose
+corns he had trodden on.
+
+"Defile not your hands with the blood of the unbeliever," he said; "but
+take him before the cadi to answer his conduct."
+
+"To the cadi, to the cadi!" was now the cry.
+
+"Hear me," said Mole, astonishing himself by his proficiency in
+Turkish; "I am not to blame, but at all events, take up those two other
+Englishmen who assaulted me."
+
+He pointed to Murray and Chivey, who had by this time got into a dense
+crowd of Turks, whom they were elbowing in an angry manner.
+
+"Take all the infidels before the cadi," cried the Turks.
+
+Herbert Murray and Chivey were accordingly seized, and the whole three
+borne off to one doom.
+
+The cadi was seated in his divan, administering justice, as was his
+custom, in the open air.
+
+His style of doing so was summary, but vigorous.
+
+"Let the giaour, who has unwarrantably assaulted the true believers,
+receive one hundred lashes," he said; "or pay fifty pieces of silver to
+our treasury."
+
+"I haven't got the money," said Mole.
+
+"Then receive the punishment," said the cadi.
+
+This time there was no ceremony used; two negroes bound Mole, pulled
+off his shoes and stockings, and exposed to view the new patent steel
+clock-work legs.
+
+"Allah, what have we here?" cried the cadi. "Is the Christian
+enchanted, to be half man, half machinery?"
+
+"My lord," said Mole, "if you'll only permit me to speak, I'll explain
+all.
+
+"Having lost my legs in the wars, helping the Turks to beat their foes,
+I have been induced to try as a substitute this new invention, and
+behold, the legs were enchanted, and I had no control over them."
+
+"Allah kerim! Can this be?" exclaimed the cadi.
+
+"That was the whole reason of my conduct, your excellency," pursued
+Mole; "otherwise, I would perish sooner than have attacked true
+believers. But these infidels," he added, pointing to Murray and
+Chivey, "first attacked me, as many here may bear witness."
+
+"If that be so," said the magistrate, "we will remit your sentence on
+payment of fifty sequins."
+
+"Gladly would I pay the sum if I had it," said Mole; "but I haven't."
+
+"Search him," cried the cadi.
+
+Mole was searched, but the investigations of the officer could not
+bring to light a greater sum in his pockets than a bad sixpence and a
+battered fourpenny-piece.
+
+"Little enough," grumbled the cadi, pocketing the amount; "but as it is
+all you have, I consent to take it. We must have it out of the other
+infidels; they too are English, and look rich. Bring them before me."
+
+Herbert Murray and Chivey were accordingly examined.
+
+Mole gave evidence as to their assaulting him, though they utterly
+denied doing so, but Mole's statement being backed up by several
+believers who had witnessed it, the judge declared both guilty, and
+sentenced them to the bastinado.
+
+"Me bastinadoed!" exclaimed the indignant Murray,. "I'd have you know,
+sir, that I'm an Englishman of rank, of influence, of property,
+and----"
+
+"Of influence, eh? Very good; then you'll have to pay a fine of five
+hundred sequins," cried the cadi, exultantly.
+
+"I swear that I haven't----"
+
+"Search the infidels," cried the cadi.
+
+The officers did so, and altogether twenty-five pounds, in gold, notes
+and silver, were found upon Murray and Chivey.
+
+With an audible chuckle, the cadi took possession of it all.
+
+"There," he said; "so now go in peace, all of you; and if I find you
+making another disturbance in the town, it will be bastinado and gaol,
+as well as a fine. Go, infidels, and remember the grand Turk."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII.
+
+THE CONSPIRATORS--THE DEED--THE FALSE INFORMERS.
+
+
+The walls of Alla-hissar gleamed in the noontide heat.
+
+The air was heavy with sleep, which weighed upon all living things, and
+made them seek shelter from the burning sun.
+
+All was still in the city.
+
+It seemed as if the spirit of death brooded over all the habitations.
+
+Yet there were some awake at that dreary hour.
+
+Gathered together at one of the principal houses in secret conclave
+were some of the chief Turks of the province.
+
+In spite of the heat, the heavy curtains covered the doorways.
+
+The door was shaded, and the assembly spoke in subdued tones.
+
+At length Ibrahim Bey, a grave old Turk, subtle and resolute, arose.
+
+"It is sacred then, friends," he said, looking round at the assembly;
+"the deed must be done, and the hour is at hand."
+
+"Such is the will of Allah," was the reply of the conspirators.
+
+"'Tis decided then, that Moley Pasha, our new governor, has, since he
+has assumed power, done all he could to destroy our old customs, and
+introduce the manners of the infidel Franks, therefore he must die."
+
+"He must die," murmured the assembly.
+
+"Allah's will be done," said old Ibrahim, turning up his eyes piously;
+"but by whose hand shall the blow be struck? Who will take upon himself
+the dangerous deed?"
+
+Up rose Abdullah, the interpreter, formerly of Mr. Mole's party.
+
+"I will do it," he said, in a firm voice; "he dies ere another hour has
+sped. I will risk the deadly danger, if you will guarantee, that if I
+succeed, I shall be rewarded."
+
+"That is but just," said Ibrahim Bey. "Should it be his sacred
+majesty's pleasure that I succeed Moley, a post of honour shall be the
+guerdon of your bravery."
+
+"I accept the terms," said Abdullah; "I know a secret way into the
+palace, I have a disguise and a dagger; doubt not my courage for the
+rest. Wait here, my friends, and ere another hour strikes, I shall
+return to say the deed is done."
+
+He glided from the room, leaving the others wondering at the cool
+audacity with which he undertook so desperate and criminal a deed.
+
+The angel of sleep had spread her wings over the seraglio of Moley
+Pasha.
+
+The veiled beauties of the harem had retired to their luxurious rooms.
+
+The pasha slept soundly and peacefully.
+
+Well for him had his dreams warned him against the peril that hovered
+over him like a black shadow.
+
+For the form of a woman, tall, thin, closely-veiled, glided along the
+passages of the harem.
+
+Her steps gave forth no sound, and she disturbed not the sleeping
+servants.
+
+She glided like a smooth serpent, or an invisible spirit; her presence
+was unseen, unfelt, unsuspected.
+
+She enters the inner chamber where lies the unconscious pasha.
+
+She bends over him, she draws forth a knife, slender, tapering to a
+point almost like a needle.
+
+The pasha still slept on, the fountain outside made sweet music, heard
+through the curtains and windows.
+
+A smile played upon the pasha's lips.
+
+He was dreaming, perchance, of the rosy bowers and the dark-eyed
+_houris_ of Paradise.
+
+Suddenly the knife descended, there was the flash of a moment, while it
+hovered like a hawk over its quarry, the next instant it was buried in
+the pasha's heart.
+
+A deep groan was the only effort of expiring nature.
+
+The fiercely flashing eyes, and a part of the face of the murderer were
+now exposed; the dress was that of a woman, but the form and features
+were those of Abdullah the interpreter.
+
+For a moment he stood gazing on his deed, then lifted some tapestry
+which concealed a small door, and disappeared.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+What cry was that which startles the seraglio from its siesta?
+
+What combined lamentation disturbs the whole palace with its harrowing
+intensity?
+
+All the inmates of the establishment have been rudely awakened from
+their slumbers.
+
+It was the pasha's favourite wife who had broken in upon the privacy of
+her lord, and she had found him dead.
+
+Dead, plainly by the assassin's dagger, but what assassin, none could
+even suspect.
+
+None could conjecture by what means any stranger could have obtained
+entrance and exit.
+
+Then arose that dreadful wail of despair, that beating of breasts, and
+tearing of tresses.
+
+The news soon spread, and the whole town was in a fever of commotion.
+
+Who had done the deed?
+
+Who was to be Moley Pasha's successor?
+
+The conspirators played their parts well.
+
+Ibrahim Bey pretended to be terribly amazed and shocked: he refused to
+be placed at the head of affairs until the sultan's will should be
+known, and he offered rewards for the discovery of the assassin.
+
+A council, consisting of Ibrahim and others, was now established to
+temporarily rule the town.
+
+A grand funeral, at which all the dignitaries of the place attended,
+was given to the unfortunate pasha, the evening after his
+assassination.
+
+The same night arrived a firman from the sultan, proclaiming Ibrahim
+Pasha of Allahissar.
+
+Such is the perilous nature of the power and dignity in Eastern lands.
+
+Ibrahim at once appointed Abdullah his vizier, and gave all the other
+conspirators important posts.
+
+Several perfectly innocent men were arrested and hanged on a pretended
+suspicion of having caused the late pasha's death.
+
+At the first divan held by the new pasha, two Englishmen were
+announced, who were said to be the bearers of important evidence about
+the murder.
+
+They were admitted accordingly, and proved to be no others than Murray
+and Chivey.
+
+"Christians, you are welcome," said Ibrahim, through his new vizier.
+"Allah in his wisdom hath sent you hither, wherefore discover your
+knowledge."
+
+Murray bowed, and seated himself upon a chair pointed out to him by the
+pasha.
+
+Chivey, as a servant, wasn't honoured with a seat, whereat he murmured,
+half to himself--
+
+"Well, they might let a cove sit down, and if they offered us a drop of
+something cool this hot weather, it wouldn't come unwelcome."
+
+Reclining on his divan in the old Turkish style, and smoking his
+_hookah_, Ibrahim listened to Murray's communication.
+
+"It may already be known to your excellency that there is in your
+dominions a young scapegrace of an Englishman, named Jack Harkaway. He
+has surrounded himself with many doers of evil, worse even than
+himself, amongst whom is an old scoundrel, formerly a schoolmaster,
+who, though he has lost both his legs, still continues to go about, and
+get into mischief."
+
+"The audacious giaour who dared to impersonate Moley Pasha?" asked
+Ibrahim.
+
+"The same," continued Murray. "Well, I have received proofs that it was
+this Harkaway and his friend who murdered the real Moley Pasha."
+
+"Shade of Eblis!" exclaimed Ibrahim, pretending to be much shocked.
+"This must be seen to; Christian, proceed."
+
+"Harkaway was once my friend," continued Murray, "and it is quite
+against my will to speak against him; but my love of justice is above
+all other considerations."
+
+"Christian," said Ibrahim, "proceed."
+
+"In the harem of your illustrious predecessor," said Murray, "there
+lately resided a Greek girl, of exquisite beauty, named Thyra, a pearl
+of delight, a peri of Paradise, and she was bewitched by this Harkaway,
+who, how we know not, penetrated within the sacred precincts of his
+highness's harem, and stole her away."
+
+"Vengeance of Allah! but he deserves death!" exclaimed the pasha, half
+rising, and his eyes flashing with anger.
+
+"But, your eminence, to make his crime complete, he committed another;
+he stabbed the pasha to the heart."
+
+"By the sword of the prophet, he dies!" exclaimed Ibrahim; "but what
+proof hast thou of all this?"
+
+"I can bring several witnesses to the truth of what I say," said
+Murray. "If any other proof were wanting, Thyra, the pearl beyond
+price, disappeared from the palace the very day, the very hour of the
+pasha's death, and she is now at the residence of Harkaway and his
+friends."
+
+"Please, your worship," here broke in Chivey, "if you'll let me have my
+talk, I'll prove it, as sure as eggs are eggs."
+
+"The giaour's servant entreats your highness to listen to the words of
+truth," was the way in which the astute Abdullah translated this
+appeal.
+
+Chivey gave his evidence, a story carefully concocted between him and
+his master, and to this was added the confirmation of several natives
+of the town, men who would swear black was white, for a dollar or two.
+
+Of course, old Mole was represented as Harkaway's chief adviser, and
+his aider and abettor in the late pasha's death.
+
+This story, of course, did not really impose upon Ibrahim Pasha; he
+knew more of the actual facts than Murray could do, but it served his
+turn to pretend to believe it, so he thanked Murray for his
+information.
+
+Abdullah (the real assassin) was so profound a dissembler, so utterly
+devoid of conscience, that he put down, at Murray's dictation, the
+names of the innocent Harkaway and his friends, remarking calmly--
+
+"I think we have got hold of the right criminals at last."
+
+"We will send and have them arrested at once," said Ibrahim. "Vizier,
+let these Christians be rewarded for their information by a purse of
+gold, and despatch an armed force to the lair of those English dogs,
+who have slain my lamented predecessor. And, Vizier, don't forget,
+whatever you do, to bring the beautiful Thyra to me."
+
+"Pasha, to hear is to obey," said Abdullah.
+
+"Ha, ha! I think we've done for the Harkaway party this time," said
+Murray gleefully to Chivey.
+
+"It was a capital dodge, I must say," answered Chivey, "although my
+belief is that Ibrahim Passher is an old rascal, and knows who really
+did for the last governor."
+
+"Keep all such suspicions to yourself," said Murray.
+
+In a short time the captain of the pasha's guards, with a detachment of
+troops, marched out to arrest our hero and his friends.
+
+The news spread like wildfire that the murderers of the late pasha had
+at length been discovered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII.
+
+JACK HAS TO STAND A SIEGE.
+
+
+And how far were Jack Harkaway and his friends really guilty in this
+matter?
+
+It was indeed true that Thyra, the beautiful Greek slave before alluded
+to, had fled from the harem of the late pasha.
+
+But this had nothing at all to do with his assassination.
+
+No doubt Thyra cherished a strong attachment for young Jack, having
+found a refuge in the same house.
+
+She could not overcome it.
+
+"I throw myself upon your protection," she said. "If I returned to my
+master's, my fate would be instant death, but that would be preferable
+to living without you, and be for ever separated from you."
+
+Jack was much embarrassed.
+
+He told her, gently as he could, that her love was hopeless.
+
+"Oh, do not say that," cried Thyra, bursting into tears. "Do not send
+me away; I'm ready to be your slave, and obey your every word."
+
+Jack consulted with his friends under this difficult and delicate
+condition of affairs, and they all agreed that Thyra must not be given
+up to the pasha.
+
+An hour afterwards, the report of his murder made matters still more
+serious.
+
+But he never dreamed that any suspicion of the actual crime would be
+turned against himself.
+
+It was therefore agreed to keep Thyra in close concealment, until an
+opportunity offered to get her back to her friends.
+
+The house occupied by Harkaway and his friends was, like most Oriental
+edifices, built for endurance.
+
+The walls were thick and strong as those of a castle.
+
+The doorway was narrow, and led into a square courtyard or garden, and
+with a fountain in the centre.
+
+Into this yard most of the rooms opened.
+
+The windows facing the street were mere loopholes.
+
+The roof was flat, and in the evening formed a favourite lounge,
+approached by a flight of steps, from one angle of the court.
+
+It is necessary to be particular in describing the house, that our
+readers may fully understand what follows.
+
+Jack Harkaway was one morning in the courtyard, near the centre, with
+Harry Girdwood, looking at a heap of curious weapons, which they had
+purchased when roaming about the bazaars.
+
+"Why, we've got quite an armory here," said Harry Girdwood. "It's a
+pity we haven't got some fighting to do to use them."
+
+"I mean to make the place into a kind of fortress," said Jack. "Here,
+Bogey."
+
+"What you after, Massa Jack?" asked the nigger, appearing instantly.
+
+"Go and take charge of the gate, and don't let anyone pass in or out
+without my order."
+
+"Right you are, massa; me keep him safe as a sentrybox," answered the
+darkey.
+
+And he started off to take up the post assigned to him.
+
+Jack next summoned Tinker.
+
+"Serve us up our dinner here under the trees," said Jack; "and be quick
+about it, you rascal, or----"
+
+"Understand puffeckly, massa," responded the black. "To hear yer is to
+obey yer, as dese Turkeys say. Yah, yah."
+
+It was very pleasant to sit down to their repast under the refreshing
+shade of the trees.
+
+Of course Mr. Mole and the orphan, as well as Thyra, the waiter and the
+diver, were summoned and came at this juncture.
+
+The orphan and Mole appeared arm-in-arm.
+
+Mr. Mole had a black bottle in one hand and a tall glass in the other.
+
+He looked very jolly, whilst the orphan appeared rather melancholy, for
+his flute had got slightly cracked.
+
+"Have a drop to raise your spirits," said the schoolmaster, filling him
+a brimmer, and fairly forcing it into his hand.
+
+The orphan could not refuse so pressing an invitation.
+
+He drained the glass, and as it came upon the top of several more, its
+effect upon him was not inconsiderable.
+
+Intending to walk straight to the table, he walked, instead, extremely
+"slantindicular," till lurching up against the fountain as he passed
+it, he stumbled over its ledge, and fell with a splash into the middle
+of its basin.
+
+Mr. Mole, with the best intentions in the world, rushed to his
+companion's rescue.
+
+Before Mole could reach the orphan, his patent legs being still
+uncontrollable, and his head unsteady also, he fell backwards, smashing
+his wine bottle on the stones of the courtyard.
+
+The scene was certainly ludicrous, and elicited much laughter from the
+spectators.
+
+They, however, helped the orphan out of his accidental and very
+unwelcome bath, which, though it had drenched him, had also sobered
+him.
+
+Mole was also assisted to re-assume an erect posture, and in a short
+time, both of them were sufficiently recovered to take their places at
+the table.
+
+Mole and Figgins seemed somewhat struck by the warlike appearance of
+the place.
+
+"What are you going to do with all that cutlery?" inquired Mr. Mole.
+
+"Perhaps you mean to set up in the scissors trade?" suggested the
+orphan.
+
+"You'll see by and by, old man," answered our hero. "We shall find 'em
+useful, perhaps sooner than you expect."
+
+"Oh, dear! I hope not," exclaimed Figgins. "I'm sure I don't want any
+more fighting; I have had more than is good for my health."
+
+The waiter now took up his accustomed duty of attending on the guests.
+
+The diver, at Jack's request, summoned Thyra, whose classic features,
+slender form, and Eastern garb, were well in keeping with the scene
+around.
+
+A seat of honour was kept for her at the _al fresco_ banquet, to
+which Jack gallantly conducted her.
+
+No one could doubt her love for him, for it shone out in her slightest
+action, her very words, and look, and tone. It seemed a pity that he
+could not return it, otherwise than by studied politeness and
+consideration.
+
+To be at his side, to hear the sound of his voice, was her greatest
+happiness, and made her forget all other dangers and troubles.
+
+When towards the conclusion of the meal, Jack proceeded to--
+
+    "Fill high the bowl with Samian wine,"
+
+and hand it to Thyra, it was to her a moment of supreme pleasure.
+
+Her dark eyes sparkled, her soft cheek flushed, and her jewelled
+fingers trembled as they held the crystal glass, filled with what, for
+his sake, and independent of its own nature, was to her as the nectar
+of the gods.
+
+"Hark! What noise is that?" asked Jack, with such suddenness, that
+Thyra spilt some of the wine ere it could reach her lips.
+
+There was indeed a sound in the street like the blended hum of many
+voices, and tread of many feet, each moment becoming louder.
+
+"Perhaps it is some procession," said Harry Girdwood.
+
+"Or a march round of the troops before the new pasha," said Mole. "Oh,
+how I pity him."
+
+"No, there's something up more dreadful than that, I am sure,"
+exclaimed the orphan. "Oh, this terrible country. I'll go home
+to-morrow if they'll only let me."
+
+"Here, Tinker, you black son of a gun; go up on the roof, and see
+what's the matter," said Jack.
+
+The nigger ascended as nimbly as a monkey.
+
+At that moment a thundering knock came at the outer gate.
+
+"What you want?" asked Bogey, still acting as porter.
+
+"Open, in the name of the pasha," said a stern voice outside.
+
+Bogey replied not, but ran in to his master.
+
+Tinker and he arrived breathless at the same moment.
+
+"Awful lot o' soldiers--Turks--outside, big guns and swords, massa,"
+said Tinker.
+
+"Wants to come in here, too," added Bogey. "Hark! Oh, ain't they giving
+what for at the door? They're at it again, a-hammerin' away."
+
+And the thundering knocking was repeated louder than before, and a
+stern voice demanding Thyra, the slave.
+
+"Just as I feared," cried Jack; "they've found out where Thyra is, and
+have come to drag her back."
+
+"Oh, powers of Heaven, protect us all!" she exclaimed, nervously
+clutching Jack's arm. "Am I unfortunate enough, dear Jack, to have
+brought you into this great peril? I entreat you to save yourselves by
+surrendering me; only do me one favour; let one of your number shoot me
+dead as soon as I am in the enemy's hands."
+
+"Impossible, dear Thyra!" said Jack. "Do you think, as a Boy of
+England, it is possible for me to act in that cowardly way? No; we must
+make a gallant resistance. Surely we are well prepared; here are arms
+enough for all. Where's the Irish diver?"
+
+"Here, your honour, ready for any row that's goin'."
+
+"Mr. Mole, you can handle a gun," said Jack; "here is one that will
+just suit you."
+
+The waiter and the orphan were also accommodated with weapons, but the
+orphan thought he would rather load the guns than fire them off.
+
+"Quick! get all the movables, and place them against the gate," said
+Jack. "With its own strength, its bolts, and bars, and keys, and a
+barricade behind it, we can defy this band of Turks, or the sultan
+himself."
+
+All gave a cheer at these defiant words, and proceeded with their
+impromptu fortification with great vigour.
+
+"I'll go up on the roof and reconnoitre," said Harry.
+
+And dangerous as was this duty, he proceeded to it with great alacrity.
+
+In a few moments he came down, with much consternation on his face.
+
+"This is a bad job, Jack," he said; "worse than I thought."
+
+"How?" asked our hero.
+
+"We are accused of murdering the pasha, as well as carrying off the
+young Greek girl. There are over a hundred of the pasha's troops on
+guard outside, with that scoundrel Abdullah at the head of them, and
+thousands of wild Moslem fanatics, thirsting for our blood."
+
+"I will go and see for myself," cried young Jack.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, don't," said Harry, restraining him; "it will be
+certain death, for you, as our leader, are the particular object of
+their animosity."
+
+Thyra's entreaties were even more pressing.
+
+She threw her arms round Jack's neck, and earnestly entreated him not
+to risk his life.
+
+"Dear Thyra," cried Jack, "you shall not be taken. I will and must
+protect you."
+
+He sprang up the stairway, and was soon on the roof.
+
+It was a sight indeed to appal the stoutest heart.
+
+As far as the eye could reach was an excited crowd, restless, furious,
+and thirsting for vengeance.
+
+In the front were a body of troops, in Turkish uniform, led by the
+captain of the guard by whose side could be recognised the sinister
+countenance of Abdullah.
+
+They caught sight of Jack Harkaway.
+
+He was recognised.
+
+A shout burst from a thousand throats; a deep, angry cry, like the roar
+of a tempestuous sea.
+
+Thousands of eyes flashed upon him--the eyeballs gleaming white from
+out of the dusky skins.
+
+"The murderer of the pasha--the despoiler of the harem!" they cried.
+"Death, death to him, and all the Christians!"
+
+Jack endeavoured to parley with them; but it was useless, until silence
+was obtained by the commands of the captain of the guard and Abdullah,
+who called out to Jack--
+
+"Resistance is useless; surrender at once, or I will not answer for
+your life."
+
+"If you want me, you must come and fetch me," returned dauntless Jack.
+
+"Your blood be upon your own head, then," said Abdullah.
+
+The captain gave the word of command, and the battering, for a while
+suspended, was recommenced upon the door below.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+THE SIEGE--THE ESCAPE--A DESPERATE RUSE.
+
+
+Jack now left his dangerous elevation, and returned to his friends.
+
+"Quite as bad as it can be," he said; "there's nothing for it but to
+make a desperate resistance, and to die game."
+
+The yells and shouts of the crowd outside were like the combined roar
+of a large herd of wild beasts.
+
+The blows became more furious on the door.
+
+It quivered beneath the repeated shocks; but its own strength, and that
+of the fastenings, and particularly the barricade behind it, still
+defied the efforts of the besiegers.
+
+Suddenly the hammering ceased, the yells of the crowd subsided.
+
+Then came a volley of musketry.
+
+They were firing at the door.
+
+The volleys came thick and fast; the woodwork, strong as it was, began
+to be penetrated by the bullets.
+
+It was clear the place would soon be untenable.
+
+Should the besiegers enter, all hope of escape would be over.
+
+"At least, we'll return their fire," said Jack.
+
+The windows in the wall facing the street were mere loopholes.
+
+At each of these, Jack commanded one of his men to take his stand, and
+pick off the enemy with the rifle.
+
+It was a dangerous game, but it served its purpose.
+
+Several of the besiegers fell before the well-aimed shots of the
+besieged.
+
+The Turks began to think that they were being opposed by a considerable
+force of well armed men.
+
+Their own shots failed to reach the highly-placed and narrow windows,
+which were now so many portholes for the fire of the besieged.
+
+The captain and Abdullah accordingly ordered their troops to fall back.
+
+The excited crowd gave a yell of disappointment.
+
+"I do believe we've defeated them, after all," cried Harry Girdwood.
+
+But it was only a lull in the storm--a fatal presage of overwhelming
+disaster.
+
+The Turkish commanders now resolved to make certain of victory by
+bringing up a cannon.
+
+If, by this means, their troops could once effect an entrance--and this
+was almost certain--what could stop their progress.
+
+What were Harkaway's mere handful of men against the thousands they
+would have to encounter!
+
+Once more, and at greater peril than ever, Jack went on the housetop to
+reconnoitre.
+
+He laid himself down flat that he might not be seen, but yet contrived
+to take a rapid glance of the position.
+
+The house was detached on three sides; the fourth side was built
+against the wall of a mosque.
+
+Upon those three sides the building was entirely surrounded by troops.
+
+The only chance of escape would be by the mosque.
+
+But how was this to be effected?
+
+The wall of the sacred building rose high above that of the house.
+
+Jack raised himself to examine it more closely.
+
+A flash--a report--and the whiz of a bullet told him that he was
+observed.
+
+A volley followed from all sides.
+
+It would therefore be impossible for his party to raise a ladder, and
+thus escape from their own roof on to that of the mosque.
+
+Jack, the bullets whistling thickly around him, managed to crawl unhurt
+to the trapdoor and again descend into the courtyard.
+
+"Well, Jack, what think you of the situation now?" asked Harry.
+
+"Desperate, indeed."
+
+"They gave you a very warm reception, my boy," said Mr. Mole.
+
+"It will be warmer still when they capture us," said Harkaway.
+
+"Oh, gracious, gracious! how shall we ever get out of this? Oh, dear!
+oh, dear! I wish I was in London once more," cried the orphan, wringing
+his hands.
+
+His distress contrasted strongly with the calm, self-possessed
+demeanour of the beautiful Thyra at this time of supreme peril.
+
+"There is but one thing we can do," said Jack.
+
+"What is that?" asked Harry, anxiously.
+
+"Break through that wall and get into the mosque; that's the only side
+of the building which isn't surrounded."
+
+"But it is impossible to pierce such a wall as that," said Harry.
+
+"We'll try, at all events," Jack responded. "Come, boys," he added,
+"one last desperate effort, and we'll baffle 'em yet."
+
+The waiter and diver understood in a minute.
+
+Hurriedly they collected the tools--pickaxes, crowbars, chisels, and
+hammers--and they all set to work on the masonry.
+
+But their momentary hopes soon subsided.
+
+The mortar had, in the course of ages, become even harder than the
+stone itself.
+
+It was impossible to make any impression upon it.
+
+When they saw this, disappointment was depicted upon every countenance.
+
+Jack flung down, in sheer despair, the chisel with which he had
+attempted to break the mortar.
+
+As the implement fell upon the stones of the courtyard, Thyra's quick
+ear noticed the peculiar sound.
+
+"It is hollow beneath here," she exclaimed, eagerly.
+
+Again testing the floor in the same way, they became convinced that she
+was right.
+
+There were probably vaults beneath this courtyard, and this stone
+concealed the entrance to them.
+
+Animated by this fresh hope, the party now worked away, and in a few
+minutes had lifted the ponderous flagstone.
+
+A flight of rude steps, leading down into utter darkness, was
+discovered.
+
+"As I thought," cried Jack, "these are vaults; we may baffle them after
+all. Bogey, run down immediately and see what they are like."
+
+Bogey hesitated not a moment, but skipped down the rude steps and
+disappeared.
+
+The others waited his return with great anxiety.
+
+At this moment, a shout of triumph was raised by their enemies outside.
+
+It signified that the cannon had been brought, and that the attack
+would soon recommence.
+
+The hope of escape was still of the very slightest.
+
+In a few moments Bogey returned.
+
+"Well?" asked Jack.
+
+"All cellars, massa, goin' along--oh, miles and miles under de earth,
+all dark, 'cepting a bit of light that comes here and there through
+little holes in de roof. Plenty of room to hide all of us, sar. Oh,
+golly, won't de nasty Turks go mad?"
+
+"Hurrah! down you go immediately," said Jack. "Now then, ladies first.
+Harry, I commend Thyra to your care. Take her down."
+
+"I can not, will not leave you, dear Jack," she cried, desperately
+clinging to our hero.
+
+"No, no; I will soon be with you. For Heaven's sake. Thyra, do not
+hesitate now, or we shall all be lost. Go quietly; it is my wish."
+
+Thyra resisted no more, but with Harry's assistance descended the steps
+into the vault.
+
+"Now, Mr. Mole, down you go," said Jack. "Here, Figgins, you take his
+legs and go first, or they'll be running away with him again. Tinker,
+follow behind, supporting his head."
+
+But Mr. Mole objected to this arrangement.
+
+"What! do you think I'm an infant, to need carrying?" he said, with
+offended dignity. "No, though I have got patent self-controlling cork
+legs, I can walk down by myself."
+
+And to prove this, he began jauntily descending the steps.
+
+But the next moment he lost his footing, and with a cry, tumbled right
+down to the bottom, on to the body of the unfortunate orphan.
+
+Luckily, it was not very far to fall, and Mr. Mole was very little
+hurt, though Figgins got the worst of it.
+
+"Now, boys, down you go," cried Jack. "Hark! they are battering down
+the gate with artillery."
+
+At that moment a ball tore through the doorway, shattered the top of
+the barricade, and at length lodged in the solid masonry.
+
+Yells of triumph broke from the Turks.
+
+"Quick! Tinker, Bogey, for your lives!" cried Jack.
+
+"Is it that we are to desart ye!" cried the Irish diver. "No, Mr. Jack,
+I'll see you down first."
+
+"Please make haste," said Jack almost imploringly. "Of course I shall
+save myself; but I'm the captain, you know, and I mustn't leave the
+ship till the last."
+
+Thus reassured, the rest descended, and no sooner was the last safe in
+the vault, than Jack Harkaway shut down the stone in its place, thus
+closing the opening.
+
+Then he hastily laid earth in the interstices round it, and tried to
+efface all signs of its having been recently removed.
+
+With equal rapidity, he gathered up the crowbars, chisels, etc.
+
+All this time the firing continued.
+
+The door would soon give way and the enemy pour into the courtyard.
+
+Was our hero mad, thus to remain behind while his friends escaped?
+
+No.
+
+His conduct was part of a desperate and deep-laid design.
+
+He saw that if he had followed them in their rapid flight, the Turks
+would be sure to perceive that the stone had been removed, and this
+would at once enable them to discover the retreat of the whole party.
+
+By remaining outside, he could restore the stone to its original
+appearance.
+
+And this he had now done.
+
+But his own safety?
+
+He had thought of that, too.
+
+Wild and desperate as was his scheme--one that required far more than
+ordinary courage to accomplish--gathering up the tools, he re-entered
+the house, and rapidly ascended to his own room.
+
+Here, from the window, he could perceive how much the crowd of enemies
+had increased outside.
+
+He was almost shaken off his feet by another discharge of artillery.
+
+But every second was precious.
+
+Hastily Jack robed himself in the ordinary garb of a middle-class
+Turk--for he had plenty of Oriental garments--bound a turban round his
+brows, and rubbed his face all over with a chemical powder, which
+greatly darkened his complexion.
+
+He quickly stained his eyebrows a deep black, with henna.
+
+None of his friends could now have recognised Jack Harkaway.
+
+But how were his enemies to be deceived and eluded?
+
+Having completed this hasty transformation, Jack descended the stairs.
+
+He looked out into the courtyard.
+
+A third discharge of artillery had now broken down the door, and the
+troops were rapidly clearing away the obstacles before entering in a
+body.
+
+Loud were their shouts of triumph, and Jack recognised the countenance
+of Abdullah, lit up by a savage satisfaction.
+
+But a glance sufficed.
+
+Jack then retired into the smaller garden at the back, where he
+completely concealed himself under some thick shrubs.
+
+In a few moments, the troops were all over the yard, probing and
+seeking in every corner.
+
+Just as Jack had calculated, the soldiers were followed by a wild
+helter-skelter of Turks, of all ages and conditions, fanatical Moslems,
+who were ready to raze to the ground the accursed house where the
+Christians had taken refuge.
+
+The soldiers were considerably surprised to find no one.
+
+They sought in every room in vain, to their intense disappointment.
+
+Abdullah's fury was terrible to witness.
+
+Speedily the whole house was filled with a motley Turkish rabble.
+
+In this fact consisted Jack's safety.
+
+Seeing the moment when a number of the Turks were passing his
+hiding-place, he stepped out and mingled with them.
+
+In the confusion, nobody noticed him.
+
+In appearance, he was just like a score of other wild Turkish youths
+who were in the throng, shouting lustily "Death to the Christians!" in
+which cry Jack joined with great vigour.
+
+The crisis of his danger was now over.
+
+He had only to follow the movements of the crowd, and join the first
+group who, tired of their search, went back through the gate.
+
+This soon happened, and amongst those disappointed Turks, Jack Harkaway
+was not for a moment conspicuous.
+
+Mingling now with the crowd outside, Jack soon found an opportunity of
+slipping down a side lane, and reaching the suburbs of the town.
+
+He was free, his disguise still protecting him.
+
+He now increased his speed, making towards the desert.
+
+For there dwelt the tribe of Arabs with whom he was friendly, who hated
+the new pasha as much as the old one, and who would be sure to extend
+their assistance to the gallant young Englishman, and enable him to
+rescue his friends. They received him kindly.
+
+Jack told his story--in which they were all powerfully interested--but
+they told him that nothing could be done until the chief returned.
+
+In the meantime, our hero was so overcome by excitement and fatigue
+that a deep sleep fell upon him, despite his efforts to keep it off.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV.
+
+ADVENTURES IN THE VAULTS--NEW FRIENDS--JACK AGREEABLY SURPRISED.
+
+
+We must now follow Jack's friends in their subterranean flight.
+
+They were, in fact, the remains of some ancient and long-disused
+fortifications, of far greater antiquity than the edifice which had
+been built over them.
+
+Light and air were only admitted by small gratings on the sides of the
+roofing, which was about level with the ground outside.
+
+As soon as the party had got over the confusion of their hurried
+concealment, Harry Girdwood took the lead.
+
+Their greatest distress was the loss of Jack Harkaway.
+
+That he was not with them soon became evident.
+
+And that being shut outside would be certain death to him, seemed
+equally so.
+
+Thyra could by no means be consoled.
+
+Her grief at this separation from Jack took the form of intense and
+violent lamentations.
+
+She declared that had she known that Jack would thus be left outside,
+no consideration would have induced her to enter the vaults.
+
+In her frenzy of despair and her love for him, she resolved to go back
+and perish with him.
+
+But all her efforts were inadequate to raise the stone which had
+already resisted the greater strength of Harry Girdwood.
+
+As soon as the Greek girl could be in the least degree pacified, the
+party proceeded through the vaults, Harry reminding them that they were
+by no means out of all danger, but that further on some other outlet,
+or at least more secure retreat might be discovered.
+
+It was a great drawback that they had no lamp or candle, but Tinker had
+a box of matches, and by lighting one of these at every few yards, they
+were enabled to gain some idea of the place they were in.
+
+In this way they penetrated a considerable distance, till arriving at a
+kind of wide underground room, the party rested awhile.
+
+Harry Girdwood now proposed to go and explore the further portion of
+this subterranean region.
+
+Leaving, therefore, the others resting, he took the box of matches, and
+entered the further passage.
+
+He soon found a low rugged opening, from which another passage branched
+off.
+
+Going through this, Harry was almost sent falling on his face through
+making a false step, for he did not see that this passage lay more than
+a foot lower than the other.
+
+Then he struck one of his matches, and by its light perceived that this
+passage was lower, narrower, and more rugged and winding than the rest
+of the vaults, and seemed to have been hewn out of the earth, rather
+than built in it.
+
+"Perhaps this leads to a cave," he thought, "inhabited by robbers or
+wild beasts. In that case I shall come off badly. I ought to have
+brought Bogey with me; he's ugly enough to frighten any body. Never
+mind, here goes."
+
+And grasping his cutlass in one hand, and in the other a piece of
+lighted paper, which he had twisted into the form of a torch, Harry
+Girdwood marched manfully on.
+
+Grazing his head against a jutting piece of rock reminded him that the
+passage was growing very small, and it behoved him to stop.
+
+Suddenly Harry stopped.
+
+He heard voices.
+
+He saw the gleam of a light at the end of the passage.
+
+He was apparently approaching some robbers' lair. Here was a fresh
+peril.
+
+But there was still time to draw back from it.
+
+No; urged on by curiosity, Harry determined to see and know the worst.
+
+In a few moments that curiosity was gratified.
+
+He came to a point where the narrow, winding passage terminated,
+leading out into a lofty, rugged vault fitted up in rude imitation of a
+room.
+
+Here, seated upon the floor in a group were about a dozen men, all
+armed, and by their dress and appearance evidently Bedouin Arabs.
+
+Harry was at once reassured.
+
+He knew that the Arabs were enemies to the Turks.
+
+The sharp eyes and quick ears of one of these sons of the desert soon
+"spotted" the stranger, and before he could resist or retreat, gave the
+alarm.
+
+Two of them seized and secured him.
+
+Harry now feared that his curiosity would cost him dear.
+
+Questioned by their chief, Harry, by dint of words and signs, explained
+what had occurred.
+
+The Bedouins became at once friendly.
+
+They were ever ready to help even the unbelieving Christians against
+the still more hated Turks.
+
+Two of their number were therefore told off to accompany Harry back.
+
+By the aid of a torch, the three soon found their way to the rest of
+the party, who were astonished and alarmed at the ferocious appearance
+of their intending deliverers.
+
+Indeed, the waiter and diver drew their weapons and prepared to offer
+resistance, but Harry stepped forward and explained that the Arabs were
+friends.
+
+Thyra, who could speak perfectly both Turkish and Arabic, acted as
+interpreter, and gave a full account of all that had occurred, which
+seemed to impress the Bedouins greatly.
+
+The beauty of the speaker produced a powerful effect upon the young and
+gallant chief to whom Thyra particularly addressed herself.
+
+"Oh, brave sheikh," she exclaimed, "hasten to assist the young
+Englishman whom I love, and who has fallen into their hands while so
+generously saving his friends."
+
+"Lady, more beautiful than the peri of the gate of Heaven," replied the
+chief, Kara-al-Zariel, "I and the warriors of my tribe will protect
+thee and thy friends."
+
+Thyra knelt and kissed the hem of the Arab chief's garment in humble
+gratitude.
+
+He raised her from the ground.
+
+As he did so, the deepest admiration shone from his dark and luminous
+eyes.
+
+But Thyra felt love only for young Jack.
+
+"We were even now debating how to attack the Turks," said the Arab,
+"Ibrahim is our enemy; but from thy words, it would appear that they
+are strong and many, and armed with the weapons of western science. In
+the desert, we fear neither men, nor kings, nor armies, but in the
+cities our strength availeth not."
+
+"But you will at least fly to the assistance of brave Jack," implored
+Thyra.
+
+"It is too late; already the castle is in the hands of the pasha's men,
+and your friend doubtless is their captive!"
+
+"But you will rescue him?" entreated Thyra; "promise us that."
+
+"I promise to make the attempt, fair maiden," answered Kara-al Zariel;
+"but it must be by night and by stealth."
+
+"That hope gives me comfort," exclaimed Thyra.
+
+"Thou seemest greatly to love this Frankish youth," observed the chief,
+bending his dark eyes upon her; "if so, he is much to be envied."
+
+"Gallant emir," said Harry, addressing Al-Zariel at this juncture, "is
+this cave safe from the entrance of our common enemy?"
+
+"Safe as the top of Caucasus, as far as we are concerned," the chief
+answered. "The Turks know not of these vaults, and if they did, would
+not venture here to be at our mercy. It was through these vaults that
+we intended to enter and take the town by surprise."
+
+"But where does the other end lead to?" asked Harry.
+
+"Into our native desert, where its opening is concealed by a dense
+shrubbery," replied Al-Zariel. "We have often found these caves very
+useful in our excursions against the Turks. But you and your friends
+shall accompany us to our tents, where the Turks will be bold indeed to
+seek you."
+
+Harry thanked him for this generous offer.
+
+This arrangement having been made, the party quitted the caves by means
+of a narrow path leading between two walls of high rock.
+
+Two of the chief's men, disguised as Turks, were left behind to enter
+the town and keep an eye upon the condition of affairs there.
+
+The chief of course took command of the party.
+
+He seemed to make Thyra the especial object of his care.
+
+It was evidently a case of "love at first sight" towards her who had
+been, with equal suddenness, smitten with Jack Harkaway.
+
+And both attachments were equally hopeless.
+
+In some parts the path was so narrow that it was with difficulty they
+could squeeze through it.
+
+This rugged path proved particularly difficult to Mr. Mole, whose head
+was, as usual, not entirely free from the fumes of alcohol, and whose
+ungovernable legs still insisted upon going all ways but the right one.
+
+But his Arab friends occasionally assisted his progress by prodding him
+in the back with their long spears, a species of incitement he could
+well have dispensed with, but which they insisted upon affording.
+
+The poor orphan, too, was, as usual, bowed down with weight of woe.
+
+"Oh, what a cold I am having," he exclaimed, pathetically, feeling for
+his pocket handkerchief. "It's tumbling into that fountain that did it.
+Oh, dear, what shall I do? It will be my death, I know it will."
+
+Such was the burden of his lament, which greatly amused the others,
+especially Bogey and Tinker.
+
+They were now on the edge of the desert some distance outside the walls
+of the town.
+
+The Arab tents could be faintly descried in the distance.
+
+They had still some distance to walk in order to reach them.
+
+The road, however, was now plain and easy, consisting of the usual flat
+desert sand.
+
+On nearing this encampment, they were challenged by a Bedouin sentinel,
+but the chief, stepping forward and explaining, the whole group were of
+course readily admitted.
+
+The black and white camel-hair tents dotted the plain to a considerable
+distance, and numerous horses and camels were picketed round.
+
+One of the principal Arabs having conferred with Kara-al-Zariel, he
+went back to his English guests, saying--
+
+"Christian friends, I will now show you what will cheer your hearts
+even more than the flesh of lambs, or odour of pure bread. Behold!"
+
+And throwing back the curtains of the tent, he exposed Jack Harkaway,
+attired as a Turk, peacefully sleeping upon a rude couch.
+
+The astonishment and relief of mind experienced by our friends at this
+discovery cannot be described.
+
+Their joy at finding Jack safe was equal to their wonder how he had
+escaped.
+
+But what words will denote the ecstasy of Thyra?
+
+With a cry of delight, she ran towards him, and kneeling beside his
+couch, poured forth thanksgivings to Heaven for his deliverance.
+
+This caused some jealousy to the noble chief, who now began to perceive
+how passionately the "Pearl of the Isles," as he called the beautiful
+Greek, was enamoured of the youthful Briton.
+
+"Stay," he said, as Thyra passionately impressed her lips on the brow
+of the sleeping youth. "Stay, or you will wake him. The Christian
+sleeps the slumber of the weary; disturb him not, and his waking will
+be all the more joyous."
+
+"Thou sayest right," answered Thyra. "If he is happy, sleeping or
+waking, 'tis not for me to intrude upon his happiness. But I will sit
+here and watch his slumbers, that I may be the first to greet him when
+he wakes."
+
+"You mustn't do any thing of the kind, miss!" interposed the waiter.
+"Girls can't live upon love, though you seem inclined to try at it, and
+as we've got a nice supper awaiting us at that tent, Mr. Girdwood
+insists upon your coming to join us."
+
+With some difficulty Thyra was induced to assent, and again left the
+object of her idolatry sleeping in blissful unconsciousness of her
+presence.
+
+A short time, however, only elapsed before, either awakened by some
+outward sound or disturbed by some dream, young Jack started up, much
+confused and puzzled to find himself in this strange place.
+
+Then he remembered the events of the day.
+
+"Halloa! what's that?"
+
+Could he believe his eyes, or was it possible that, beyond the group of
+Bedouins sitting feasting around the camp fire, was another group,
+among which the figures of Harry Girdwood, of Mole, and of Thyra were
+conspicuous?
+
+It must be a dream.
+
+Jack leapt to his feet, fixed his eyes on the group, and now recognised
+also Mr. Figgins, the Will-o'-the-Wisp forms of Bogey and Tinker
+flitting about and waiting on the others.
+
+Now convinced, Jack rushed out of his tent into the larger one.
+
+A perfect storm of welcome greeted him, and mutual surprise and delight
+were exhibited by all.
+
+Thyra was beside herself with joy.
+
+"Oh, dear Jack," said she, "I thought never to see you more."
+
+"How did you get away from the Turks?" asked Harry Girdwood and two or
+three of the others in chorus.
+
+Jack told his story, and in turn listened to his companions'
+adventures, and there were mutual congratulations upon their escape.
+
+Never in all Jack's wanderings was there a happier occasion than this
+reunion.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI.
+
+THE GREEK GIRL'S FOREBODING--A BATTLE WITH THE TURKS.
+
+
+Thyra slept little that night.
+
+This could not be because she was unwearied in frame, for the toils,
+anxieties, and dangers of the day had been sufficient to exhaust far
+greater strength than hers.
+
+It was not that she had not much cause now for anxiety of mind.
+
+Jack was safe--that to her, was the first consideration, and all his
+friends, including herself, had been rescued by his cleverness from the
+more imminent perils that beset them.
+
+But her soul was in a state of great agitation; dark, melancholy
+thoughts, which would not be chased away, continually oppressed it.
+
+This interfered with the blissful visions, the roseate castles in the
+air which she was so prone to build, and of which Jack Harkaway ever
+formed the central figure.
+
+If she could win his love, and accompany him to England--a grand and
+mysterious region which she had all her life longed to see--Thyra
+thought the climax of happiness would be reached.
+
+But still she felt a terrible presentiment that, not only would this
+never be accomplished, but that some dread and imminent fate was
+hanging over her.
+
+"To-morrow," she murmured, "the hand of destiny will lie heavily upon
+me; there is a voice within that tells me so."
+
+And this melancholy condition continued throughout the hours of
+darkness.
+
+She looked out of her tent.
+
+All around her slept.
+
+Even the sentinel had fallen asleep beside the camp fire.
+
+The air was laden with the chill breath of night, but the stars were
+fading and the first gleams of dawn were breaking through the eastern
+mists. At such a time the appearance of the vast desert was especially
+gloomy and depressing.
+
+Thyra turned her gaze in the direction of the town.
+
+What cloud was that coming thence, and advancing along the plain
+towards the camp?
+
+The Greek girl strained her eyes to penetrate the mist; in this she was
+assisted by the growing light of the morn.
+
+Presently the cloud shaped itself into recognisable distinctness.
+
+It was a mass of armed men.
+
+The Turks were marching on their track!
+
+Thyra's terror for a moment kept her spellbound.
+
+This onset boded destruction to herself and all her friends; above all,
+to him she loved best.
+
+Involuntarily she uttered a cry of alarm, which at once aroused the
+whole of the camp.
+
+The Arabs sprang to their feet, and seized their arms.
+
+In an instant all was commotion.
+
+Kara-al-Zariel heard that beloved voice, and in an instant was at
+Thyra's side.
+
+"What has alarmed the Pearl of the Isles?" he asked, in the poetic
+phraseology of his race.
+
+Thyra stood with dishevelled hair, and dilated eyes fixed upon the
+approaching army, at which she pointed with trembling fingers.
+
+"Look! look!" she exclaimed, "they are coming--the Turks are upon us!"
+
+Kara-al-Zariel followed her gaze.
+
+He saw the cloud; he knew the danger.
+
+"To horse!" he thundered. "To arms! every son of the desert, and every
+Christian guest!"
+
+Instantly the horses were untethered, and the riders mounted; armed men
+assembled on foot, and every warrior appeared in readiness.
+
+Jack Harkaway and his friend Harry, by this time familiar as old
+soldiers with these sudden calls to arms, soon answered the summons;
+and the rest of their party, on hearing the danger, were not backward
+in preparing for it.
+
+There were in the encampment a large number of fleet Arab steeds, more
+than were actually required by the tribe, but the chief, like many of
+his race, dealt largely in horseflesh.
+
+This was particularly fortunate on the present occasion, for their
+Christian allies could also be mounted, and if overwhelmingly
+outnumbered by the enemy, could save themselves by flight.
+
+All the more experienced warriors were now sent to the front, to face
+the first shock of the coming attack.
+
+Kara-al-Zariel led a beautiful steed to Thyra.
+
+"Mount, sweet maiden," he said; "This steed is one of fleetest. Go,
+ride on towards the sea, for our enemies are coming fast upon us, and
+this is no place for thee."
+
+Thyra mounted, but steadfastly refused to flight.
+
+"Thinkest thou, O chief, that I will fly from this danger?" she said
+scornfully. "Never! I will escape with my best friends, or perish with
+them."
+
+In vain the emir persuaded her to seek safety at once.
+
+"To perish or to fall again into the hands of the licentious Turks," he
+said; "remember, rash girl, these two terrible fates menace thee."
+
+"If I am killed," responded Thyra, "it is the will of Heaven; but ere I
+become a captive to the Turks, the dagger shall end my life."
+
+Her resolution being evidently fixed, the Arab chief ceased to
+persuade, but resolved, throughout the coming fight, to do all he could
+to shield her from danger.
+
+On came the enemy's forces.
+
+The light was now sufficient for it to be perceived that they consisted
+of a large and well-armed body of Turkish cavalry.
+
+They were led, as before, by the captain of the guard, and the
+truculent vizier Abdullah.
+
+If was through the latter's acuteness that the vaults beneath the
+castle had been discovered, and conjecturing that the fugitives had
+escaped thus, he had traced them into the desert.
+
+He, therefore, organized an expedition to set out and surprise them in
+the camp.
+
+Abdullah's plans were deeply laid.
+
+He wished to capture the Greek girl, that he might curry favour with
+the Pasha Ibrahim by presenting her to him.
+
+He was resolved to secure and punish Harkaway and the other Christians,
+to turn away every public suspicion from himself and Ibrahim, as to the
+late pasha's assassination.
+
+After that, it is exceedingly probable that the unscrupulous
+interpreter meant in some way to destroy Ibrahim, and set up as pasha
+himself.
+
+These subtle treacheries are common under the corruptions of Oriental
+rule.
+
+The vizier intended to take the Arabs by surprise, and he would have
+succeeded in this, had it not been for Thyra.
+
+Instead, therefore, of finding a sleeping encampment, he found the
+whole tribe up in arms, and ready to receive him.
+
+Other tactics were therefore necessary, but Abdullah believed that his
+own superiority in numbers would ensure victory.
+
+As the Turkish regiment approached, they spread themselves out, their
+object being to surround the force opposed to them.
+
+On came the Turks.
+
+Their sabres flashing and clashing.
+
+The steeds neighing.
+
+The sands of the desert rising up in clouds beneath their thundering
+tread.
+
+Arrived within a short distance, the two armies halted and surveyed
+each other.
+
+Then a trumpet sounded to parley, and a messenger rode forward to
+communicate with the Arab chief.
+
+"To the Emir Kara-al Zariel," said the soldier, "thus saith the great
+Lord Ibrahim, pasha of Alla-hissar. Whereas, though thou hast been
+often a rebel against his highness's lawful authority, yet will he
+pardon thee all past misdeeds on condition that thou shalt give up the
+Frankish men and the Greek woman, who are accused of the secret murder
+of his late highness, Moley Pasha. Refuse this, and no mercy will be
+shown to thee or to thy tribe.
+
+"Tell thy ruler or his officers," thus replied Kara-al Zariel, "that I
+refuse his proffered pardon; that Ibrahim is an assassin and usurper I
+despise and defy; that I will never deliver up to his hands those who
+have sought my hospitality, and that I and my tribe, and my guests,
+will resist him and his, to the death."
+
+This rebuff was sufficiently conclusive.
+
+There was nothing now but to commence the fight.
+
+Shots came forth from the midst of the mass of Turkish horsemen, and
+were promptly answered from the muskets of the Arabs.
+
+The battle cry of the Bedouins rang out clear in the morning air.
+
+The first rays of the sun now lit up the plain, piercing the clouds of
+mist and desert-dust, and gleaming upon the rapidly-moving blades and
+barrels.
+
+Now shone out the white _naiks_ of the Arabs and the red caps of the
+Turks.
+
+The Ottoman cavalry pressed with terrible force upon the Bedouins,
+whose old-fashioned long guns were inadequate to compete with the
+modern European rifles of their foe.
+
+But on each side, the bullets tore through the ranks and laid low many
+a gallant warrior.
+
+The fray soon became a fierce and close one.
+
+A fight, hand to hand, muzzle to muzzle, and sword to sword.
+
+One slight advantage was on the side of the Arabs.
+
+They and their horses were quite fresh, while the Turks and their
+chargers were wearied with a long and difficult march.
+
+Our friends did not forget they were Englishmen, and upheld the honour
+of their country in the personal bravery they showed upon this
+occasion.
+
+Jack Harkaway and Harry Girdwood hewed their way right and left among
+the Turkish horsemen.
+
+They were like mowers among the corn, their sickles sharp, and their
+harvest heavy.
+
+Soon shone the morning sun brightly upon this scene of strife.
+
+The Turks, from their numbers, could relieve their comrades when they
+became tired.
+
+The Arabs had no such advantage.
+
+They began to thin terribly.
+
+But still they fought on with unabated vigour, and succeeded in
+preventing the enemy surrounding their encampment, and enclosing them
+in.
+
+Kara-al-Zariel was ever in the thickest and most perilous part of the
+contest, encouraging his men with his presence.
+
+He performed prodigies of valour, and his long hiltless Arab sabre was
+stained deeply with the blood of his foes.
+
+The diver and the waiter both showed themselves skilful and valorous in
+fighting, and if Mole and Figgins failed to distinguish themselves so
+much, and preferred the more modest and retiring rearguard of the army,
+we must consider the weak nerves of one and the wooden legs of the
+other.
+
+Bogey and Tinker were in their element, and their African blood spurred
+them on to deeds of bravery sometimes even approaching barbarity.
+
+Thyra, stationed on horseback in the rear, had in her a spirit of
+heroism, which of her own will, would have led her to the very front of
+the battle.
+
+But the entreaties of the chief and of Jack induced her to restrain her
+valour, and remain in a position of comparative safety from which she
+could see all that went on, and discharge a pistol when she saw a
+chance of bringing down a foe.
+
+But by degrees the Arabs ranks were broken.
+
+Their numbers where fearfully diminished, and no efforts of theirs
+seemed to make any perceptible diminution of that of the enemy.
+
+So the chief resolved upon a retreat.
+
+But ere this could be effected, the Turks succeeded in placing a large
+contingent in a position to intercept them.
+
+"We must cut through them, or we are lost," exclaimed the chief.
+
+The war-cry of the Arabs was again raised.
+
+They dashed at a portion of the living ring that surrounded them.
+
+They cut their way through the circling mass of steel.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII.
+
+STILL THE BATTLE RAGES.
+
+
+At that moment Kara-al-Zariel's horse received a mortal wound, and sank
+beneath the chief.
+
+He fell heavily, and narrowly escaped being trampled to death by his
+own advancing men.
+
+But procuring another steed, he again led the van.
+
+Jack Harkaway had already had two horses killed under him.
+
+He was disfigured by blood and smoke, and dizzy with weariness and
+excitement, but he still fought like a lion, for it was for life.
+
+The task of breaking through the Turkish ranks was a terrible one.
+
+Many Arabs fell dead in the desperate attempt.
+
+As fast as the gaps were made in the ranks of the enemy, they were
+filled up by fresh men.
+
+The horses trampled upon the weary limbs of the wounded.
+
+Into this wild _melee_ Jack plunged, closely followed by his friend
+Harry.
+
+Our hero struck down a gigantic Turk, fired a revolver into the face of
+another, and gave a cut right and left with his sword.
+
+Taking advantage of the passage thus made, the other Englishmen rapidly
+followed their leader.
+
+Thyra was led by the waiter and the diver, while Mole and Figgins
+mutually assisted each other.
+
+It was amid shots falling like hail in every direction, and menaced by
+killing blows from heavy sabres that the retreat was made.
+
+Thyra performed another act of heroism at this juncture.
+
+A Turkish sergeant, on foot, fired straight at her as she passed.
+
+By the width of scarce an inch, the bullet missed piercing her brain,
+but she answered it by a shot which sought and found the heart of the
+Turk, and he fell dead instantaneously.
+
+In this way all the Englishmen got through the ranks of the foe and
+joined the chief.
+
+The rest of the Arabs followed, but they had a hard task to do so, for
+the enemy now overwhelmingly outnumbered their reduced force.
+
+But our friends were not to escape even thus easily.
+
+The Turks made fresh and vigorous efforts, not only to prevent their
+retreat, but to effect their capture.
+
+Seeing the peril they were in, Jack called to Thyra and said--
+
+"My good girl, you have acted with heroic bravery, but our danger is
+now greater than ever, and you must quit this scene."
+
+"Never, dear Jack, whilst you are imperilled," she firmly replied.
+
+"But you can aid me more that way than by staying," he said. "Listen,
+yonder is the sea, not more than two miles off. There is an English
+ship in the bay; its gallant sailors will not fail to assist their
+countrymen in distress. Go to them at once, your steed is swiftest of
+all. Ride, ride for your life, dear girl."
+
+Thyra needed no further urging.
+
+"I will bring assistance to you," she cried, "or perish in the
+attempt."
+
+She turned her steed, and was off in a minute at lightning speed.
+
+On came the Turks, now headed by Abdullah, for his comrade, the captain
+of the guard, had been desperately wounded.
+
+"We must capture them!" he cried to his men. "Forward, men; death or
+victory."
+
+Jack and his men saw that resistance was useless against so
+overwhelming a force.
+
+Flight was the only chance remaining to them.
+
+Yet they could not give in without some attempt to punish their enemy.
+
+Jack levelled his pistol at the vizier's head, but by a dexterous
+movement he avoided the shot.
+
+"Yield, Christian dogs!" he thundered. "Yield to might and right, for
+your capture or death is inevitable."
+
+"You do not know us Boys of England," cried Jack. "We may be taken
+dead, but while a breath of life remains, we will never surrender to
+black-hearted Turks."
+
+The vizier answered by ordering his men to surround the Christians,
+which they did their best to accomplish.
+
+But by an agile movement, Jack and his friends suddenly turned and
+galloped off.
+
+It was not in the direction of the sea, for retreat was at present cut
+off that way, but across the desert that they fled.
+
+"Forward!" cried Abdullah. "They must not escape us."
+
+For a considerable time this chase continued, till the English, by
+"doubling" again, changed the direction of their flight, and made
+towards the sea.
+
+Hope arose within their hearts, for they saw a considerable number of
+well-armed English sailors, led by Thyra, coming towards them.
+
+A few minutes' galloping joined them with these welcome allies, and
+this reinforcement enabled Jack again to defy the Turks.
+
+The latter drew rein, and stood for awhile in hesitation.
+
+This unexpected turn of affairs evidently disconcerted them.
+
+But ere their horses could be put in motion again, Jack and his party
+were upon them, backed by their new allies.
+
+The impetuosity of their charge was for a moment irresistible.
+
+They bore down all the Turks before them.
+
+The Turkish troopers recoiled as from the flight of a rocket.
+
+Jack rode on like a hero of old.
+
+His hair streamed in the wind as he darted through the air on his noble
+Arab steed.
+
+His eyes flashed fire, and struck awe into each foe that approached
+him.
+
+But he soon found himself surrounded by his enemies. Abdullah, who was
+at their head, cast himself upon Jack. Their horses were driven on
+their haunches by the force of the shock.
+
+Half a dozen sabres at once circled round Jack's head.
+
+Abdullah made a lunge at him with his sword, which would have proved
+the death of Jack had not Harry Girdwood at that instant caught the
+thrust upon his arm.
+
+Poor Harry! His devotion to his friend had cost him dear.
+
+He reeled, and would have fallen from his saddle, probably trampled to
+death, had not Bogey, at the risk of his own life, caught him and led
+his horse apart from the thick of the battle.
+
+Burning to avenge his friend, Jack struck with all his force at
+Abdullah's head.
+
+The interpreter received the blow upon his sword, which, proving the
+stronger of the two, Jack's weapon snapped in the clash, and he was
+left weaponless.
+
+He seemed, indeed, at the mercy of his pitiless foe.
+
+Abdullah smiled a cruel smile as he again raised his sabre.
+
+But that smile was his last.
+
+A lance-head gleamed past Jack, and transfixed Abdullah through the
+chest, so that he was borne down among the trampling hoofs of the
+horses.
+
+"Yah, yah; dat's one to me, Massa Jack," exclaimed Tinker, for he it
+was who had thus saved Jack's life.
+
+Jack caught up Abdullah's sword, and, by a desperate charge, cut
+through the opposing Turks, now "demoralised" by the loss of their
+leader, and regained his Bedouin and English friends.
+
+By this time the heat was very great.
+
+The sky was like a dome of steel.
+
+The sands of the desert burnt under the fierce sun.
+
+The dust flew in clouds, save where the blood of the wounded and dying
+had soaked into the arid soil.
+
+Taking advantage of the confusion that now reigned in the Turkish
+force, the English and Arabs made a last desperate effort to escape
+their foes.
+
+With a yell of defiance, the fierce Bedouins, led by Kara-al-Zariel,
+dashed through the ranks of the enemy, dealing destruction right and
+left.
+
+Taking advantage of the disconcerted state of the foe, Jack and his
+friends were enabled again to join their Arab allies, and the retreat
+of the whole party towards the shore began in good earnest.
+
+They would soon have distanced their now exhausted foes, but ere the
+English vessel could be reached, another large body of Turks came up to
+the attack.
+
+This force was led by no less a personage than the Pasha Ibrahim
+himself, whose fierce grey eyes glared beneath his shaggy brows at
+those who had slain his vizier.
+
+Beside him rode the officer in command of his squadron, and another
+young man, in whom, although dressed in red _fez_ and Turkish
+uniform, Jack recognised Herbert Murray.
+
+He was attended by his servant Chivey, also dressed as a Turk.
+
+They were all splendidly mounted; their horses fresh, and their troops
+well-disciplined.
+
+As the two parties approached, the pasha's eyes were fixed upon Thyra.
+
+"It is the Pearl of the Isles," he exclaimed, "who was stolen by these
+infidels from the harem. She shall yet be mine. One thousand piastres
+to the man who will capture her."
+
+A dozen of his men instantly started in pursuit of Thyra, who was a
+little in advance of her companions.
+
+Her beautiful Arab steed seemed to have taken a sudden fright, for it
+started off at lightning speed, independent of Thyra's attempts to turn
+him, for she wished to die or escape by the side of her companions.
+
+Separated from them, and pursued by a dozen well-armed men, her
+position was indeed perilous.
+
+The speed of her horse seemed her only chance.
+
+But the noble creature had been very hard worked that day, and after
+the first "spurt," showed signs of exhaustion.
+
+The Turks, upon their fresh and fleet steeds, began to gain upon her
+every minute.
+
+At length she was at bay, resolved to die defending herself and defying
+her enemies.
+
+She placed her lance in rest as the foremost Turk came up.
+
+Despite his efforts to avoid the weapon, she thrust it through his
+shoulder.
+
+He fell, desperately, if not mortally wounded, and full of rage at
+being defeated by a woman.
+
+His nearest companion now faced the beautiful amazon, who rapidly drew
+her revolver--the one Jack had given her--and fired.
+
+The ball took effect, for the Turk reeled in his saddle and fell to the
+ground, dead.
+
+The others now approached.
+
+But Thyra discharged one, two, three shots from her revolver, and the
+last killed the officer's horse, which staggered and fell, bringing the
+rider to the ground.
+
+Thyra urged her steed again towards the sea.
+
+Herbert Murray and Chivey now pressed forward, resolved to try and gain
+the pasha's reward and the glory of achieving her capture.
+
+Away went Thyra on her gallant steed.
+
+She was near the sea now.
+
+The murmur of its waves upon the sands resounded in her ears.
+
+The British cruiser was seen about a mile away in the offing, and on
+the shore stood about half a dozen sailors, taking charge of the boats
+in which the armed force had come ashore.
+
+They were anxiously watching for their companions to return, and on
+perceiving Thyra's peril, two of them went to her assistance.
+
+And they arrived not a moment too soon.
+
+Herbert Murray had ridden up to her.
+
+Grasping the bridle of her steed, he thought he had effected her
+capture.
+
+But at this moment a voice beside him cried out in English--
+
+"Hands off there, you lubber!"
+
+This showed that Thyra's call for help had been heard and responded to.
+
+Murray turned, and saw the two stalwart British tars standing beside
+Thyra.
+
+"Look here," continued the sailor, "if you don't leave this here young
+lady alone, and be off instanter, we'll take you aboard and let our
+captain deal with you."
+
+Herbert Murray looked around, and seeing that the sailors were in a
+position to carry out their threat, angrily relinquished the chase, and
+turning his horse, rode off with Chivey, who had not approached quite
+so near.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
+
+END OF THE CONTEST--DEATH OF THYRA.
+
+
+Thyra was securely protected by these gallant tars until the rest of
+the party came up, which was not long, for after a slight skirmish,
+Jack and his friends managed to cut through the new force of opposing
+Turks, and make their way towards the ship.
+
+Ibrahim Pasha, enraged at being thus defied, still pressed on, followed
+by all his force, but they only arrived at the shore in time to see
+Jack and the others embarking in the boats.
+
+He now had recourse to threats.
+
+"In the name of His Imperial Majesty the Sultan," he said to the
+officer in command, "I command you to give up to me these Englishmen,
+who have escaped from justice."
+
+"They are British subjects," returned the officer, "who have sought the
+protection of their flag."
+
+"Shall British subjects commit crime and yet go free?" inquired
+Ibrahim.
+
+"What crime have they committed?" asked the officer.
+
+"Murder--the assassination of his highness, Moley Pasha."
+
+"What evidence have you to show to connect them with his death?" asked
+the officer. "If you have but sufficient evidence, they shall be tried
+before a proper tribunal. Where the English flag floats, justice shall
+be done to all."
+
+The pasha bit his lip.
+
+He knew that his evidence against these Englishmen was very slight,
+being in fact only the assertion of Murray and Chivey, and that any
+mistake on his part would bring on political trouble that might be his
+ruin, so he began to draw in.
+
+"At least," he said, "you can not refuse to give me back my own
+property, stolen from my palace."
+
+"That's a reasonable request enough," answered the lieutenant. "Point
+out your property, and you shall have it."
+
+"There it is," exclaimed Ibrahim, as he pointed to Thyra.
+
+"That your property, eh?" said the astonished officer. "Well, a very
+nice property too. But how was she stolen?"
+
+"Stolen from my harem by that son of Eblis!" cried the old pasha,
+pointing to Jack.
+
+"Ah, young man, I see how it is," said the officer, gravely shaking his
+head; "you've been going it rather too fast, and brought on this
+trouble all on account of this Greek girl."
+
+"It's a lie," cried Jack, looking fiercely at the pasha; "she never was
+stolen, and never did belong to that old coffee-coloured villain, and
+what's more, never shall, if Britons can protect her. She fled of her
+own accord from the palace of Moley Pasha, before he arrived, and
+sought protection from me and my friends in the town."
+
+"In that case," said the officer, "we cannot give her up, for the
+British government does not recognise slavery, domestic or otherwise.
+Under our flag she is free."
+
+A cheer of defiance from the group of English sailors greeted this
+speech.
+
+"By the soul of the prophet," fiercely exclaimed the pasha, "am I to be
+defied by a boy, and an infidel--a son of Sheitan, to boot?"
+
+"Boy as I am, I defy you," retorted Jack.
+
+This was a bold, but foolish and incautious speech, destined to be
+disastrous.
+
+The pasha, goaded to madness by Jack's words and defiant manner, drew
+his pistol and discharged it pointblank at our hero.
+
+The action was a rapid one--so rapid as to take Jack unawares, but not
+so rapid as the love-quickened perceptions of Thyra.
+
+She saw the pasha's movement, and throwing herself forward, seized Jack
+just in time to draw him aside.
+
+By so doing, she saved his life, but at the expense of her own.
+
+The bullet lodged in her breast, and with a cry she fell wounded into
+Jack's arms.
+
+The disaster had come so quickly that our hero scarcely comprehended
+what had happened.
+
+The pasha frowned darkly when he saw Thyra fall.
+
+Some remorse was awakened, even in his iron heart.
+
+He had intended to take a life, but not hers, and now indeed the Pearl
+of the Isles was lost to him for evermore.
+
+"'Tis you now, pasha, who have committed crime," said the lieutenant,
+"and for this I call you to account. Surrender to answer for this
+deed."
+
+"Surrender to Christian dogs! Never," answered the fierce Ibrahim.
+
+"Then, men, fire upon these Turks," said the officer.
+
+The rifles of the sailors were accordingly brought to cover upon the
+pasha's force.
+
+Ibrahim immediately recognised a fresh and imminent danger, and
+resolved on a retreat.
+
+Turning his horse, he gave the signal to his followers, and the whole
+body marched off rapidly, pursued by the fire of the English.
+
+During this parley, Kara-al-Zariel and his Arabs had taken advantage of
+the preoccupation of their foes, to withdraw to the range of rugged
+rocks near the shore, which would at once shelter them from the attacks
+of the Turks and give them the advantage of being near their English
+allies in the ship.
+
+But the pasha, now that the main objects of his expedition had escaped
+him, did not make any further attempts to pursue the Bedouins.
+
+He and the remnant of his forces made the best of their way across the
+desert to the town.
+
+And now all attention was drawn towards Thyra.
+
+All perceived, with the deepest regret, that her hours were numbered.
+
+She had been that day in the thick of more than one deadly conflict.
+
+Hundreds of bullets had passed her, but this one, aimed at another, had
+only too successfully performed an errand of death.
+
+Terrible indeed was the grief of Jack Harkaway.
+
+"Oh, Thyra," he exclaimed, "my brave, dear girl, he has killed you."
+
+"I know it," she replied, with a mournful resignation, "but thank
+Heaven you, dear Jack, are saved."
+
+"I have not deserved this devotion from you," said Jack, in broken
+accents, while the tears fell from his eyes, "but you must not--shall
+not die thus. Can nothing be done for her?" he asked, looking round at
+the others.
+
+"I fear not," replied the lieutenant, "but she must at once be taken on
+board, and placed under the care of the surgeon."
+
+Thyra had been lifted up and her wound staunched with her scarf.
+
+"Here, Harry," said our hero, rousing himself from his grief, "help me
+to carry her to the boat."
+
+But ere his friend could fulfil his request, a tall, wild form
+interposed between them, a brown, sinewy hand convulsively clutched
+Jack's arm to draw him away.
+
+"No hand but mine," cried a voice broken by intense grief, "shall bear
+the Pearl of the Isles to yonder boat."
+
+It was the Arab chief, Al-Zariel, his face haggard with grief, his dark
+eyes gazing mournfully at the pale but beautiful face of her he loved.
+
+He raised her tenderly, this wild warrior of the desert--tenderly as a
+child, and disdained all aid, and bore her in his strong arms to the
+boat.
+
+The others drew back; no one at that moment had the heart to say him
+nay.
+
+Even the rough sailors, and the still rougher Arabs, were touched by
+the mournful scene before them.
+
+It was indeed a solemn procession to the boats, almost a funeral
+_cortege_, for they bore one, who, though not yet dead, would never
+see another day's sun arise.
+
+Kara-al-Zariel gently deposited the dying girl in the boat.
+
+"I have known her but a day," murmured the Arab chief, "and during that
+day she has shone upon my path like a gleam of sunshine from the gates
+of Paradise. From the first instant I saw her I loved her as I have
+loved no other, and as I shall love no other to my life's end."
+
+He stooped and imprinted a passionate kiss upon that marble brow,
+pressing as he did so the lifeless hand, gazing into the fast-fixing
+eyes, and murmuring "Farewell" in his native tongue.
+
+She understood him, and with a smile of gratitude, answered him in the
+same language.
+
+The boat put off.
+
+Kara-al-Zariel, standing on the sands, watched it for some moments, and
+then, as if unable longer to bear the sight, turned away, knelt upon
+the beach, and covered his eyes with his hands.
+
+It was not grief alone that made him kneel beneath the open vault of
+Heaven.
+
+In that terrible moment he registered to Heaven a vow of vengeance
+against the pasha who had slain the Pearl of the Isles.
+
+The sturdy tars bent to their oars, and the boat left the murmuring
+waters of the sunlit Mediterranean.
+
+Arriving on the ship, Thyra was placed with all care and tenderness
+upon deck.
+
+The doctor examined the wound, and shook his head gravely.
+
+"I can do nothing here!" he said, in subdued tones.
+
+None answered him; only they saw too plainly that his words were final.
+
+Poor Jack Harkaway! If ever in his young life he had felt grief, it was
+now, when he saw one who had so hopelessly loved him, dying through
+that very love.
+
+"I am not afraid to die," said Thyra, in her low, faint voice, "and to
+die in this way is the best of all; for my future life might have made
+both you and myself unhappy."
+
+"Unhappy! How could that be, Thyra?" asked Jack, as he knelt beside
+her, his hand clasped in hers, her dying eyes looking upwards into his
+face.
+
+"Because your love is given to another," she sighed, "and, therefore,
+mine is hopeless; but oh, may that other--whoever she may be--be now
+and ever happy in your love."
+
+"You have died for my sake!" he said, "and can you think I can feel any
+thing but the deepest gratitude, the most tender feelings, towards you?
+No, dear Thyra, I love you now, if I have not before."
+
+"To hear that from your lips," she murmured, "is to die happy. All I
+ask now, is that you will always remember the little Greek girl who
+loved you, and--and who was unhappy in her life, and happy in her
+death."
+
+"Remember you!" said Jack, "remember you, my noble Thyra! after what
+you have done? Always! always! Do not pain me by fearing that I may
+forget you."
+
+"Then I am happy still; listen. Here are a chain and a cross of gold;
+keep them in remembrance of me, and when I am dead, have me conveyed,
+if it is possible, to the land of my birth, the beautiful island of
+Naxos, where my parents still live. Bury me there."
+
+Jack promised this, and the old captain of the ship declared that he
+would have her last request fulfilled.
+
+Thyra's strength was now almost exhausted, but, with a last effort, she
+raised herself from Jack's supporting arms, and addressed those around
+her.
+
+"Friends," she said, "I give you many, many thanks for what you have
+done for me, in protecting me and aiding my escape. I can but give you
+thanks and my farewell. Farewell!" she added, "to the bright blue sky,
+the golden sea, and the beautiful green island where I was born and
+where I hope to rest when I am no more."
+
+Here her voice died into a murmur, and the rest was inaudible to all
+but Jack.
+
+Jack stooped as the Arab chief had done, and impressed a fervent kiss
+upon the fair young face, still bent lovingly towards him. At that
+moment he felt an electric thrill convulse her frame, followed by a
+complete stillness. In that last fond embrace her spirit had fled.
+
+Thyra's troubles were over.
+
+Two days afterwards the ship, whose captain had undertaken to convey
+Jack and his friends from those turbulent shores, touched at the Greek
+island of Naxos. There Thyra's parents were found, and the sad news of
+their child's death communicated to them.
+
+She was buried in the little cemetery close to the shore, and amid
+groves of cypress and gardens of flowers, where sweet birds sing and
+sea breezes softly murmur, lies the beautiful Greek girl who loved and
+died for young Jack Harkaway.
+
+And all hearts were heavy with grief when, after the funeral, they
+hoisted sail, and steered in a westerly direction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIX.
+
+MARSEILLES--MR. MOLE AS A LINGUIST--AN UGLY CUSTOMER AND HIS ENGLISH
+CONFEDERATE--A COMPACT OF MYSTERY--MR. MARKBY PLAYS A VERY DEEP
+GAME--THE SHADOW OF DANGER.
+
+
+Our friends had been some days at sea.
+
+The weather was fair, and their progress was for a time slow.
+
+At length one day there was a cry--
+
+"Land ho!"
+
+"Which?" said our hero, who was anxious for any thing that would make
+him forget his great sorrow for Thyra.
+
+"I remarked 'Land ho!' Jack," said Mr. Mole, for he it was who first
+detected it.
+
+"And I observed 'Which?' sir," said Jack.
+
+"And why that unmeaning interrogation?" demanded Mr. Mole.
+
+"Your speech is an anomaly, Mr. Mole," responded Jack, mimicking the
+voice of his tutor in his happiest manner.
+
+"Why so?"
+
+"You say my question is unmeaning, and yet you ask an explanation of
+it. If there is no meaning in it, how can I explain it?"
+
+"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Mole. "No matter. You are too much given to useless
+arguments, Jack. I believe you would argue with the doctor attending
+you on your deathbed--yea, with the undertaker himself who had to bury
+you."
+
+"That's piling it on, sir," said Jack, in a half-reflective mood. "I
+dare say I should have a shy at the doctor if he tried to prove
+something too idiotic, but we must draw the line at the doctor. I
+couldn't argue with the undertaker at my own funeral, but I'll tell you
+what, Mr. Mole, no doubt I shall argue with him if he puts it on too
+stiff in his bill when we put you away."
+
+"Jack!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, inexpressibly shocked.
+
+"A plain deal coffin," pursued Jack, apparently lost in deep
+calculation; "an economical coffin, only half the length of an ordinary
+coffin, because you could unscrew your legs, and leave them to
+someone."
+
+"That is very unfeeling to talk of my funeral, dreadful!"
+
+"You are only joking there, I know, sir," returned Jack, "because you
+were talking of mine."
+
+"Ahem!" said Mole, "do you see how near we are to land?"
+
+"Quite so, quite so."
+
+"Go and ask the captain the name of this port."
+
+It proved to be Marseilles, and the captain knew it, as he had been
+sailing for it, and, moreover, they were very quickly ashore.
+
+Mr. Mole was especially eager to air his French.
+
+"You speak the language?" asked Jack.
+
+Mr. Mole smiled superciliously at the question.
+
+"Like a native, my dear boy, like a native," he replied.
+
+"That's a good thing," said Jack, tipping the wink to Harry Girdwood;
+"for you can interpret all round."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+France was then going through one of its periodical upsets, and a good
+deal of unnecessary bother was made along the coast upon the landing of
+passengers.
+
+Passports were partly dispensed with, but questions were put by fierce
+officials as to your name and nationality, which all led up to nothing,
+for they accepted your reply implicitly as truth, and while it
+inconvenienced the general public, the Royalist, Republican, Orleanist,
+or whoever might chance to be of the revolutionary party for the time
+being, could chuckle as he told his fibs and passed on to the forbidden
+land.
+
+M. le Commissaire confronted Mr. Mole, and barred his passage to
+interrogate him.
+
+"_Pardon, m'sieur, veuillez bien me dire votre nom?_"
+
+"What's that?" said Mole.
+
+"_Votre nom, s'il vous plait_," repeated the commissaire.
+
+"Really, I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance."
+
+"_Sapristi!_" ejaculated the commissaire, to one of his subordinates.
+"_Quel type!_"
+
+"Now, Mr. Mole," said Jack, who was close behind the old gentleman,
+"why don't you speak up?"
+
+"I don't quite follow him."
+
+"He's only asking a question, you know. You polly-voo like a native."
+
+"Yes; precisely, Jack. But I don't follow his accent. He's some
+peasant, I suppose."
+
+"_Votre nom!_" demanded the official, rather fiercely this time.
+
+"Now, then, Mr. Mole," cried a voice in the rear, "you're stopping
+everyone. Get it out and move on."
+
+"Dear, dear me!" said Mole. "What does it mean?"
+
+"He's asking your name," said Jack, "and you can't understand it."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"I'll tell him for you, as you don't seem to know a word," said Jack.
+"_Il s'appelle Ikey Mole_," he added to the commissaire.
+
+"_Aike Moll_," repeated the commissaire. "_Il est Arabe?_"
+
+"_Oui, monsieur. C'est un des lieutenants du grand Abd-el-Kader._"
+
+"_Vraiment!_" exclaimed the commissaire, in a tone of mingled surprise
+and respect. "_Passez, M'sieur Aike Moll._"[2]
+
+      [2] "He calls himself Ikey Mole," says Jack to the _commissaire
+      de police_.
+
+      "_Aike Moll!_" repeats the commissaire, pronouncing the
+      incongruous sounds as nearly as he can. "Why, he must be an
+      Arab."
+
+      To which Jack, with all his ready impudence, replies--
+
+      "Yes, sir, he is an Arab. He was one of Abd-el-Kader's
+      lieutenants."
+
+      We need scarcely remind our readers that Abd-el-Kader was the
+      doughty Arab chief who made so heroic a resistance to the French
+      in Algiers.
+
+      This satisfied the commissaire, who respectfully bade Mole pass
+      on.
+
+They went on, and Mole anxiously questioned Jack.
+
+"I'm getting quite deaf," said he, by way of a pretext for not having
+understood the conversation. "Whatever were you saying?"
+
+"I told him your name was Isaac Mole, sir," returned Jack.
+
+"You said Ikey Mole, sir," retorted Mole, "and that is a very great
+liberty, sir."
+
+"Not at all. Ike is the French for Isaac," responded the unblushing
+Jack.
+
+"But what was all that they were saying about Arab?"
+
+"Arab!" repeated Jack, in seeming astonishment.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Didn't hear it myself."
+
+"I certainly thought I caught the word Arab," said Mr. Mole, giving
+Jack a very suspicious glance.
+
+"You never made a greater mistake, sir, in your life."
+
+"How very odd."
+
+"Very."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The Cannebiere is the chief promenade in Marseilles, and the
+inhabitants of this important seaport are not a little proud of it.
+
+Two men sat smoking cigarettes and sipping lazily at their _grog au
+vin_ at the door of one of then numerous cafes in the Cannebiere.
+
+To these two men we invite the reader's attention.
+
+One was a swarthy-looking Frenchman from the south, a man of a decent
+exterior, but with a fierce and restless glance.
+
+He was the sort of man whom you would sooner have as a friend than as
+an enemy.
+
+A steadfast friend--an implacable foe!
+
+That was what you read in his peculiar physiognomy, in that odd mixture
+of defiance and fearlessness, those anxious glances, frankness and
+deceit, the varied expressions of which passed in rapid succession
+across his countenance.
+
+This man called himself Pierre Lenoir, although he was known in other
+ports by other names.
+
+Pierre Lenoir was a sort of Jack of all trades.
+
+He had been apprenticed to an engraver, and had shown remarkable
+aptitude for that profession, but, being of a roving and restless
+disposition, he ran away from his employer to ship on board a merchant
+vessel.
+
+After a cruise or two he was wrecked, and narrowly escaped with his
+life.
+
+Tired of the sea, for awhile he obtained employment with a medallist,
+where his skill as an engraver stood him in good stead.
+
+From this occupation he fled as soon as his ready adaptability had made
+him a useful hand to his new master, and took to a roving life again.
+What he was now doing in Marseilles no one could positively assert.
+
+How it was that Pierre Lenoir had such an abundant supply of ready
+money, the progress of our narrative will show--for with it are
+connected several of not the least exciting episodes in the career of
+young Jack Harkaway.
+
+So much for Pierre Lenoir.
+
+Now for his companion at the cafe.
+
+He was called Markby, and, as his name indicates, he was an Englishman.
+
+Being but a poor French scholar, he had scraped up an acquaintance with
+Pierre Lenoir, chiefly on account of the latter's proficiency in the
+English language.
+
+There is little to be said concerning Markby's past history, for
+reasons which will presently be apparent.
+
+What further reason he may have had for cultivating the friendship of
+the rover, Pierre Lenoir, will probably show itself in due course.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"I have disposed of that last batch of five-franc pieces," said Markby.
+"Here are the proceeds."
+
+"Keep it back," exclaimed Lenoir hurriedly.
+
+"What for?"
+
+"It is sheer madness for us to be seen conversing together," replied
+Lenoir, casting an anxious glance about him from behind his hat, which
+he held in his hand so as to shield his features, "much less to be seen
+exchanging money--why, it is suicidal--nothing less."
+
+"Is there any danger, do you think?"
+
+"Do I think? Do I know? Why, this place is literally alive with
+spies--_mouchards_ as we called them here. Every second man you meet
+is a _mouchard_."
+
+"Do you mean it?"
+
+"Rather."
+
+"That's not a pleasant thing to know," said Markby.
+
+"I don't agree with you there," replied Lenoir. "'Forewarned,
+forearmed,' is a proverb in your language. But now tell me about this
+friend and countryman of yours."
+
+"He's no friend of mine," returned Markby. "I know him as a great
+traveller, and one who has opportunities of placing more false----"
+
+"Hush, imprudent!" interrupted Lenoir. "Call it stock. You know not how
+many French spies may be passing, or how near we may be to danger."
+
+Markby took the hint given him, and continued--
+
+"Well, stock. He can place more--he has probably placed more than any
+man alive. He travels about _en grand seigneur_--lords it in high places
+and disposes of the counterf----"
+
+"Stock."
+
+"Stock, in regular loads. But he's as wary as a fox--nothing can
+approach him in cunning."
+
+"The very man I want," exclaimed Lenoir. "This fellow could, with my
+aid, make a fortune for himself and me in less than a year--a large
+fortune."
+
+"You are very sanguine," said Markby, with a smile.
+
+"I am, but not over sanguine. I speak by the book, for I know well what
+I am talking of. You must introduce me."
+
+"You are running on wildly," said Markby. "Did I not tell you that he
+did not know me--that he would not know me if he did? So careful is he
+that his own brother would fail to draw any thing from him concerning
+the way in which he gets his living."
+
+"_Dame!_" muttered Lenoir, "he seems a precious difficult fellow to
+approach."
+
+"Yes, on that subject," responded Markby; "but he's genial and
+agreeable enough if you introduce yourself by accident, as it were, and
+chat upon social topics generally, without the vaguest reference to the
+subject nearest your heart."
+
+"How shall I ever lead him up to the point?"
+
+"Easily. For instance, talk about art matters. Allude to your gallery
+of sculpture. Ask him, is he fond of bas reliefs? Tell him of your
+skill as a medallist."
+
+"Medallist might put him on the scent, if he is so dreadfully wary,"
+said Lenoir.
+
+"No fear. He would never dream of such a thing. Medalling being a sort
+of sister art to what most interests him, he would be sure to bite at
+the chance. You lead him to your little underground snuggery, and once
+there all need for his wonderful caution will be at an end."
+
+"I see," said Lenoir, rubbing his hands. "But stay"--and here his face
+grew a bit serious--"this fellow is faithful?"
+
+"True as steel," responded Markby.
+
+"That's right," said Lenoir, with a look that caused a twinge of
+uneasiness to be felt by his companion, "for woe betide the man that
+plays me false."
+
+"No fear of this man--man, I call him, but he is in appearance at least
+little more than a lad, although he was travelled all over the world."
+
+Here Markby arose to move away.
+
+"Stop a bit," said Lenoir. "I have forgotten to ask rather an important
+detail."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"The name of this fellow?"
+
+"Jack Harkaway," was the reply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XC.
+
+MARKBY'S MISSIVE--ON THE WATCH!--"SMART FELLOW, MARKBY!"--MARKBY'S
+MYRMIDON--THE SPY'S MISSION.
+
+
+The Englishman Markby was gone before Pierre Lenoir could question him
+further.
+
+"Jack Harkaway?" exclaimed Lenoir; "I have heard that name before. Of
+course; I remember now. But Markby speaks of him as a lad. Why, the
+Harkaway that I remember must be a middle-aged man by now; besides,
+what little I knew of Harkaway then would not show him to be a likely
+man for my purpose."
+
+Not long after this, as Lenoir was upon the point of rising and leaving
+the cafe, a commissionaire or public messenger came up at a run with a
+note in his hand.
+
+"M'sieu Lenoir."
+
+"_C'est moi._"
+
+He took the note and found it to contain the following words, scribbled
+boldly by Markby--
+
+    "They are now coming along in your direction. You will easily
+    recognise them--two youths in sailor dress. Follow them, and if
+    they stay at any of the cafes, I leave you to scrape up an
+    acquaintance with them.--M."
+
+"Markby has been upon the _qui vive_," said Lenoir to himself. "Smart
+fellow, Markby!"
+
+Glancing to the left, he saw the two young sailors approaching: so
+Pierre Lenoir made up his mind at once.
+
+He stepped into the house, intending to let them pass and then follow
+them, and, if by chance they should, on their way, stop at either of
+the cafes, he could drop in and seek the opportunity he so much
+desired.
+
+But while he was waiting the young sailors came up, and, instead of
+passing the cafe they dropped into chairs at the door and called for
+refreshments.
+
+This was more than Lenoir had bargained for.
+
+However, it was no use wasting time.
+
+He desired to profit by the opportunity, and so out he came and sat at
+the next table to the two young Englishmen.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"What's your opinion of Marseilles, Jack?"
+
+"Nothing great."
+
+"Ditto."
+
+"Nothing to see once you're out of sight of the sea, and the natives
+are not very interesting. They only appear to be full of conceit about
+their town without the least reason for it. I should like to know if
+there is really any thing in Marseilles to warrant the faintest belief
+in the place."
+
+This was Pierre Lenoir's opportunity.
+
+He stepped forward.
+
+"Excuse me, gentlemen," said he. "Englishmen, I presume?"
+
+"Yes, sir," responded Jack; "are you English?"
+
+"I haven't that honour," replied Pierre Lenoir.
+
+"You speak good English. You have resided in England, I suppose, for a
+long while?"
+
+"No, only a short time. Long enough to get a desire to go back there."
+
+"That's very kind of you to say so. Your countrymen, as a rule, don't
+speak in such flattering terms of _la perfide_ Albion."
+
+"And yet they are glad enough to find a refuge there."
+
+"True."
+
+"Are you a native of Marseilles?" asked Harry.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you are not offended at our remarks?"
+
+"Not a bit," replied Lenoir heartily. "The Marseillais are absurdly
+conceited about their town, and after all it contains but few objects
+of interest for a traveller."
+
+"Very few."
+
+"There are some, however, and if you will accept my escort, I shall be
+very happy to show you them."
+
+They expressed their thanks at this courteous offer which, on a very
+little pressing, they were glad to accept.
+
+"Thanks; we will go and tell a friend, who is waiting for us down by
+the quay, that he must not expect us for an hour or so."
+
+"Very good."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Markby must have been pretty keenly upon the lookout, for no sooner
+were they gone than back he came.
+
+"Well, what success?"
+
+"Just as I wished," returned Lenoir, with a great chuckle; "they are
+coming back directly."
+
+"That's your chance; you have only to take them up to your place. Once
+there, you will do as you please with them."
+
+"There is no danger?"
+
+"What can there be!"
+
+"Only this--suppose that you were mistaken?"
+
+Markby was visibly offended at this.
+
+"If you think that likely after all I have told you, take my advice and
+have nothing whatever to do with them. I don't want to expose you to
+any risk that you think you ought not to run."
+
+Lenoir appeared to waver momentarily.
+
+Markby eyed him anxiously for awhile, until Lenoir, with an air of
+resolution, exclaimed--
+
+"Hang the risk. I'll go for it neck or nothing."
+
+"And you will take them there to-night."
+
+"I will."
+
+"Good! You'll have no cause to repent your decision. They'll do you a
+turn that you little contemplate."
+
+"Right! Now off with you."
+
+"I'm gone."
+
+And away he went.
+
+"What a strange fellow that Markby is," thought Pierre Lenoir, looking
+after him. "What an odd laugh he has."
+
+Alas! Pierre Lenoir had good reason to bear that laugh in mind.
+
+But we must not anticipate.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+As soon as Markby was fairly out of sight, he beckoned over to a young
+man in white blouse and a cap, who had walked along on the opposite
+side of the way, keeping Markby in view all the while without appearing
+to notice him.
+
+The fellow in the blouse ran across at once.
+
+"Well, how's it going?"
+
+"Beautiful," returned Markby, "nothing could be better. Already have
+Harkaway and his hard-knuckled companion, Girdwood, been seen in
+Lenoir's society. But before the day is over they will be seen in the
+Caveaux themselves, where proofs of their guilt will spring up
+hydra-headed from the very ground."
+
+"And what will it end in?" asked the other, eagerly.
+
+"The galleys," returned Markby, with fierce intensity.
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed the man in the blouse, with unfeigned
+admiration. "You always must have been a precious sight downier than I
+thought. Why, your old man was no fool. He made a brown or two floating
+his coffins, but he was a guileless pup compared to you."
+
+"You keep watch," said Markby, hurriedly; "and be ready for any
+emergency. It is a bold stroke we are playing for. Lenoir is a
+desperate ruffian, and the least mistake in the business would be
+something which I for one don't care to contemplate."
+
+"Lenoir be blowed," replied the man in the blouse; "the only people I
+care about if we should go and make a mess of the job is, firstly--Jack
+Harkaway, and secondly, his pal Harry Girdwood, which a harder fist
+than his I have seldom received on my unlucky snuffer-tray."
+
+And he was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCI.
+
+MARKBY'S NEXT STEP--THE PREFECT OF POLICE--THE PLOT THICKENS--A GLIMPSE
+OF MARKBY'S PURPOSE--A DOUBLE TRAITOR--DEADLY PERIL.
+
+
+Markby went off muttering to himself.
+
+"Wish that scamp could only share the fate I have reserved for that
+accursed Harkaway. However, I can't manage that, so I must be thankful
+for small mercies."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+A short walk brought this Markby to the office of the prefect of
+police, and his business being of considerable importance, he was
+fortunate in soon obtaining an interview with that great man himself.
+
+"This is an excellent opportunity," said the head of the police, "if
+your information is thoroughly reliable, although I confess that it
+almost sounds too good to be true."
+
+"Pardon me, monsieur," said Markby, "the expression you use sounds as
+though I had got information second-hand; I am a principal. On the
+10th, you will please to remember. I have to be of the party."
+
+"It is a very important matter," said the prefect, "that I will not
+attempt to disguise from you. This Lenoir is evidently at the head of a
+gigantic conspiracy. We have been long seeking to discover how he
+disposed of his counter----"
+
+"Stock," said Markby, interrupting the prefect, with a smile. "He is
+the quintessence of caution, sir, and he never alludes to it by any
+other term."
+
+"You really think that these English people are their confidants?"
+
+"The chief confederates; yes. They are the heads of the English part of
+our scheme."
+
+"How many men should you require?" demanded the prefect, changing the
+subject abruptly.
+
+"A dozen fully armed, in plain clothes. These can descend into the
+_caveaux_ to make the capture."
+
+"A dozen!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So many!"
+
+"You don't know Lenoir," said Markby; "he's the very devil when he's
+aroused. A dozen will have all their work to do. As for the two
+Englishmen----"
+
+"They are young," exclaimed the prefect.
+
+"They are young fiends. I have seen them fight like devils. They are
+just as dangerous as Lenoir. They are an cunning as the evil one
+himself, and will gammon even you, by their plausible tales."
+
+"Let me see," said the prefect, thoughtfully. "I will take note of the
+names which you tell me they are likely to assume."
+
+"One has been calling himself Jack Harkaway."
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"Harry Girdwood."
+
+"Good--and you can prove that both the persons whose names are assumed
+are in Turkey?"
+
+"I can."
+
+"Very good," said the prefect, rising, to intimate that the intercourse
+was over. "Our men shall be there in force for the capture."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCII.
+
+THE HARKAWAY'S GUIDE--LENOIR'S MUSEUM--THE CAVEAUX, AND WHAT THEY SAW
+THERE--THE MEDALS--THE TRUTH AT LAST--A COINER'S TRADE--AN ALARM--A
+DESPERATE FELLOW.
+
+
+"Here we are again, sir," said Harry Girdwood, stepping up to Pierre
+Lenoir; "but I fear we are taking a great liberty in asking you to
+_cicerone_ such a large party as we muster here."
+
+Lenoir smiled.
+
+It was not a free, frank smile.
+
+To tell the truth, he was a bit annoyed, for besides the two youths
+there was Mole, and the attendant darkeys with them, Tinker and Bogey.
+
+Lenoir was a cautious man, and he did not care to run risks.
+
+"Are they friends and confidants of yours?" he asked, rather pointedly.
+
+It was an odd speech to make, but as he smiled slightly, they took it
+for a sort of joke.
+
+"Oh, yes, they are confidential friends," returned Harry Girdwood,
+smiling.
+
+"Very good, let us begin our look round. We will walk along the quays
+if you like, and thence past the Hotel de Ville. I shall show you
+several objects of undoubted interest," said Lenoir, significantly.
+
+He led the way on.
+
+Jack fell back a few paces, walking on with Harry Girdwood.
+
+"He's a very odd fellow," whispered the latter.
+
+"Very."
+
+Lenoir led them over the town before he ventured to approach the
+Caveaux.
+
+"I have a little museum not far away," he said.
+
+"I am afraid we shall be intruding," began Jack.
+
+"Not a bit," protested Lenoir.
+
+The snuggery in question was situated at some little distance from the
+town, and away from the main road.
+
+The cottage was only a one-story building.
+
+"His museum is not very extensive," whispered Harry Girdwood to his
+companion, "if it is that cottage."
+
+Lenoir was remarkably quick-eared.
+
+"My museum is cunningly arranged," he said to Jack, looking over his
+shoulder as he walked on; "you don't get all over it at once. Here we
+are."
+
+They had reached the threshold, and opening the door, he led the way
+in.
+
+It was a neat little cottage interior, with nothing about it to attract
+attention.
+
+Passing through the first room, Lenoir conducted them to a sort of
+out-house beyond.
+
+Here they came upon the first surprise.
+
+He opened a door which apparently shut in a cupboard, and this, to
+their intense astonishment, revealed a flight of stone steps which
+seemingly led into the very bowels of the earth.
+
+"Hallo!" exclaimed Jack; "why, what's this?"
+
+"I thought I should astonish you, now," said Lenoir, with his same calm
+smile.
+
+"What is this place?"
+
+"There is a whole series of caves below these, apparently natural
+formations. The only way I can account for them myself is that at some
+time or other some experimental mining operations have gone on there.
+Would you like to go down and see the place?"
+
+"With pleasure," returned Jack, eagerly.
+
+"Allow me to lead the way."
+
+When they had descended a few steps, Jack half repented.
+
+This man was a stranger to them, and he had brought them to a very wild
+and out-of-the-way place.
+
+Had he any evil purpose in bringing them there?
+
+Jack stood wavering for a few seconds--no more.
+
+"We are four," he said to himself, "four without counting Mr. Mole;
+they must be a pretty tough lot to frighten us much, after all said and
+done."
+
+So saying down he went.
+
+The others followed close behind him.
+
+At the base of the flight of steps they found themselves in a spacious
+vault that was unpleasantly dark.
+
+"Allow me to lead the way now," said Lenoir, passing on. "Follow me
+closely; there is no fear of stumbling, there is nothing in the way."
+
+So saying, he conducted them through this opening, which, by the way,
+was so low that they had to stoop in passing under, and found
+themselves now in a narrow cave, which reminded young Jack forcibly of
+the dungeon and its approach of Sir Walter Raleigh, in the Tower of
+London.
+
+"What do you think of this place?" demanded the guide.
+
+"A very curious sight," was the reply. "You put all this space to no
+use?"
+
+"Pardon me," said Lenoir; "I practise my favorite hobby here."
+
+"Here!"
+
+"Yes--or rather in the next cellar beyond."
+
+"And what may be that favourite hobby?"
+
+"Medalling," was Lenoir's reply.
+
+And again he shot at his questioners one of those peculiar glances
+which had so astonished them before.
+
+"I should like to see some of your work," said Jack.
+
+"I thought you would," said Lenoir, with a quiet chuckle.
+
+Lenoir led the way into the next cellar or cavern, and here they came
+suddenly upon a complete change of scene.
+
+Here they saw a furnace, with melting pots, bars of metal, moulds,
+files, batteries, and all the necessary accessories for the manufacture
+of medals.
+
+Upon a flat stone slab was a pile of medals, all of the same pattern
+precisely.
+
+"Just examine those, Mr. Harkaway," said Pierre Lenoir, "and tell me
+what you think them."
+
+Jack put his finger through the glittering heap, and they fell to the
+table with a bright clear ring that considerably astonished him.
+
+"Why, they are silver!"
+
+Lenoir smiled.
+
+"Very good, aren't they?"
+
+"Very!"
+
+Jack here made a discovery, upon examining them more closely.
+
+"They are five-franc pieces!" he said, with a puzzled expression.
+
+"Of course they are--and beauties they are too!"
+
+"There's not much risk in getting rid of those, I should say?"
+
+"Risk!" iterated Harry Girdwood.
+
+"Aye!"
+
+"Why risk?"
+
+"I mean that no one could detect the difference very easily. Why, they
+deceived you," he added, turning to Jack, with an air of conscious
+pride.
+
+"Upon my life, I don't understand what you mean," said Jack.
+
+Lenoir looked serious for a moment.
+
+Then he burst out into a boisterous fit of merriment.
+
+"You are really over-cautious, young gentleman," he said.
+
+"Over-cautious?"
+
+"Why, yes--why, yes. Wherefore this reserve? Why should you pretend not
+to understand? Don't you see," he added, with a cunning leer, "that I
+can make these medals as perfectly as they can at the Hotel de la
+Monnaie, our French Mint?"
+
+"So I see," said Jack.
+
+A faint light began to dawn upon Harry Girdwood--not too soon, the
+reader will say.
+
+"It is rather a dangerous pastime, Mr. Lenoir, this medalling fancy of
+yours," he said.
+
+"No," said Lenoir, pointedly, "the danger is not there; the danger of
+this pastime, as you call it, is in disposing of my beautiful medals."
+
+"Dear me, sir," said Mr. Mole. "Do you sell them?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"The five-franc pieces two francs and a half," replied Lenoir, "and so
+on throughout until we get up to the louis, the twenty-franc pieces;
+those I can do for seven francs. You can pass them without risk."
+
+This told all.
+
+Jack and his friends were astounded.
+
+"Are you making us overtures to join you in passing bad money?"
+demanded young Jack.
+
+"Not bad money," returned Lenoir, "very good money--all my own make."
+
+"It is very evident that you do not know us," said Harry Girdwood, "and
+so are considerably mistaken. Why you have brought us here and placed
+yourself in our power, it is utterly beyond me to understand."
+
+Lenoir stared.
+
+"What!"
+
+"The position is most embarrassing," said Jack. "To do our duty would
+be to repay by great ingratitude your kindness in guiding us about the
+town, for we ought to denounce you to the police authorities."
+
+This speech partook of the nature of a threat and Pierre Lenoir was up
+in an instant.
+
+"The worst day's work of your life would be that," he said, fiercely.
+"No man plays traitor to Pierre Lenoir a second time."
+
+"Traitor is a wrong term," said Jack; "we are not sworn to share such
+confidences as yours. We shall leave you now, but----"
+
+"Stop!"
+
+They were moving towards the entrance when Lenoir sprang before them,
+and whipped out a brace of revolvers.
+
+The position grew exciting and unpleasant.
+
+"Stand out of the way, and let us pass," exclaimed Jack, impetuously.
+
+"Don't come any nearer," said Lenoir, with quiet determination, "for I
+warn you that it would be dangerous. You can't move from this place
+until you have made terms with me."
+
+"I for one will have nothing whatever to say to you," said Jack,
+haughtily. "I don't care to bargain with a coiner."
+
+With his old foolhardy way he was stepping forward, in peril of his
+very life.
+
+Lenoir was a desperate man, in a desperate strait.
+
+His finger trembled upon the trigger.
+
+"Stand back, on your life."
+
+"You stand aside," cried Jack.
+
+"Another step and I fire!" cried Lenoir.
+
+"Bah!"
+
+Jack pushed on.
+
+Lenoir pulled the trigger.
+
+Bang it went.
+
+But the ball whistled harmlessly over Jack's head, and lodged in the
+slanting roof.
+
+A friendly hand from behind the coiner had knocked up his arm in the
+very nick of time.
+
+At the self-same instant some eight or ten men, fully armed, burst into
+the vault.
+
+One of them, who was apparently in command, pointed to Lenoir, and said
+to the others--
+
+"Arrest that man. He's the leader of them."
+
+And before the coiner could offer any resistance, they knocked his
+weapons from his hands, and fell upon him.
+
+But Lenoir was a powerful fellow--a desperate, determined man, and not
+so easily disposed of.
+
+With wonderful energy, he tore himself from them, and, producing
+something from one of his pockets, he held it menacingly up.
+
+"Advance a step," he exclaimed, "and I will blow you all to atoms,
+myself as well. Beware! I hold all our lives in my hand. Now who dares
+advance?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCIII.
+
+LENOIR'S FLIGHT--MURRAY THE TRAITOR--HIS PUNISHMENT AND FLIGHT--A LONG
+RUN--THE AUBERGE--A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.
+
+
+There was a pause.
+
+Pierre Lenoir looked like mischief.
+
+His position was desperate, and they judged, and rightly judged, that
+he was a man not likely to stick at a trifle.
+
+The men looked at their officer, and the latter, a man of intelligence
+and prudence, albeit no coward, reflected seriously.
+
+Several terrible calamities, accidental and intentional, had of late
+opened the eyes of the public to the destructive properties of
+dynamite, and to that his thoughts flew.
+
+He wavered.
+
+The coiner saw his chance, and quick to act as to think, he made for
+the exit.
+
+"Stand back!" he cried, fiercely, to the men who made a faint show of
+barring his passage. "I'll finish you all off at a stroke if you
+attempt to oppose me?"
+
+They fell back alarmed.
+
+Lenoir darted on through the inner vault, and so on until he gained the
+flight of steps.
+
+Reaching the top, he darted through the cottage, and reaching the open,
+suddenly found himself in the midst of about a dozen men.
+
+The first person upon whom his glance rested, was the doubly-dyed
+traitor who had betrayed him solely to serve his own ends, by
+entrapping Jack Harkaway--the Englishman, who must have been recognized
+by the reader, in spite of his assumed name, as Herbert Murray.
+
+Instinctively Lenoir divined that his betrayer was the young
+Englishman.
+
+No sooner did this conclusion force itself upon him than all thought of
+personal danger vanished from his mind, and he was possessed by one
+sole idea, one single desire. Revenge!
+
+He lost sight of the peril in which he ran, but with a cry like the
+roar of a wounded lion he sprang upon the traitor.
+
+A brawny, powerful fellow was Pierre Lenoir, and Herbert Murray was but
+a puny thing in his grasp.
+
+"Hands off!" exclaimed Murray, in desperation.
+
+Lenoir growled, but said nothing, as he shook him much as a terrier
+does a rat.
+
+Before the police could interfere in the spy's behalf, Lenoir held him
+with one hand at arm's length, while with the other he prepared to
+deliver a fearful blow.
+
+The energy of despair seized on the hapless traitor, and wrenching
+himself free from the coiner's grasp, he fled.
+
+Pierre Lenoir stood staring about him a second.
+
+Then he made after him.
+
+Away went pursuer and pursued.
+
+The terror-stricken Murray got over the ground like a hare, and
+although the coiner was fleet of foot, he was at first distanced in the
+race.
+
+It became a desperate race between them.
+
+Lenoir tore on.
+
+He would have his betrayer now or perish.
+
+But before he had got more than two hundred yards the pace began to
+tell upon him.
+
+He felt that he would have to give in.
+
+"I must go easier, or I shall fail altogether."
+
+So reasoning, he slackened his pace, and dropped into that slinging
+trot that runners in France know as the _pas gymnastique_.
+
+If your strength and wind are of average quality, you can keep up for a
+prodigious time at that.
+
+Murray flew on, anxious to get away from his furious pursuer.
+
+He increased his lead.
+
+But presently the pace told upon him likewise.
+
+He collected his thoughts and his prudence as he went, and rested.
+
+Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lenoir come bounding along, a
+considerable distance in the rear.
+
+"Savage beast!" thought Murray. "He means mischief."
+
+Murray meant tiring him out.
+
+This, however, was not so easily done.
+
+The Englishman was a capital runner, and had been one of the crack men
+of his school-club.
+
+But his _forte_ was pace.
+
+The Frenchman, on the contrary, was a stayer.
+
+It looked bad for Murray.
+
+On they went, and when a good mile had been covered, Murray, on
+glancing back, felt convinced that it was only a question of time.
+
+He must tire out the Frenchman in the end, he thought.
+
+He believed that an Englishman must always be more than a match for a
+Frenchman at any kind of athletics.
+
+He reckoned without his host, for while he (Murray) was getting blown,
+Lenoir swung on at _pas gymnastique_, having got his second wind, and
+being, to all appearance, capable of keeping on for any length of time.
+
+"I shall have to give it up," gasped Murray, when, at the end of the
+second mile, he looked over his shoulder again.
+
+An unpleasant fact revealed itself.
+
+While he was faltering, the Frenchman was rather improving his pace.
+
+Yes.
+
+The distance between them was lessening.
+
+And now he could hear Lenoir's menaces quite plainly as the coiner
+gained upon him.
+
+"I shall have you directly, and I shall beat your skull in!" the
+Frenchman said.
+
+Murray's craven heart leapt to his mouth.
+
+Already he felt as if his cranium was cracked by the brutal fist of the
+savage coiner.
+
+Fear lent him wings.
+
+He put on a spurt.
+
+"Oh, if I had but a pistol," thought Murray; "what a fool I was to come
+unarmed on such a job as this."
+
+He partially flagged again.
+
+The distance between them was still decreasing.
+
+This he felt was the beginning of the end, but just as he was thinking
+that there was nothing for it but to turn and make the best fight for
+it he could, he sighted a roadside inn--a rural auberge.
+
+And for this he flew with renewed energy.
+
+Dashing into the house, he pushed to the door and startled the
+aubergiste by gasping out in the best French he could command--
+
+"_Un assassin me poursuit. Cachez-moi, ou donnez-moi de quoi me
+defendre!_"[3]
+
+      [3] "I am pursued by an assassin. Hide me, or give me something
+      to defend myself with."
+
+The landlord took Murray--and not unnaturally--for a madman.
+
+He did not like the society of madmen.
+
+To give a weapon to a furious maniac was out of all question.
+
+And the landlord had nothing handy of a more deadly nature than a knife
+and fork.
+
+Moreover, he would not have cared to place a dangerous weapon in a
+madman's hands.
+
+So he met the case by humouring the fugitive with a proposal to go up
+stairs.
+
+Murray wanted no second invitation.
+
+Up he flew, and locked himself in one of the upper rooms just as Lenoir
+hammered at the door below.
+
+"_Ou est-il?_"[4] demanded the coiner, fiercely.
+
+      [4] "Where is he?"
+
+"_Qui?_"[5]
+
+      [5] "Who?"
+
+"_Ne cherchez pas a me tricher_," thundered Lenoir. "_Il m'appartient.
+Ou est-il, je vous le demande?_"[6]
+
+      [6] "Seek not to deceive me," thundered Lenoir. "He belongs to
+      me. Where is he, I ask you again?"
+
+The coiner's manner made the aubergiste uneasy, and thoughtful for his
+own safety.
+
+So he pointed up stairs.
+
+Up went Lenoir, and finding a room door locked, he flung his whole
+weight against the door and sent it in.
+
+This was the room which the fugitive had entered.
+
+But where was Murray?
+
+Gone!
+
+Vanished!
+
+But where?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCIV.
+
+THE COINER AND THE SPY--A REGULAR DUST-UP, AND WHAT CAME OF IT--THE
+CHASE--AN ODD ESCAPE--HUNTING IN THE HAY--A ROUGH CUSTOMER DONE FOR.
+
+
+When Lenoir had puzzled himself for some time over the mysterious
+disappearance of Herbert Murray, he made a discovery.
+
+The window was open, a circumstance which he had until then, in the
+most unaccountable manner imaginable, overlooked.
+
+But when he got to the window and looked out, there were no signs of
+the object of his search.
+
+He had followed so sharply that Murray could not have had time to get
+off.
+
+He looked up and down the road eagerly.
+
+The only thing in sight was a wagon-load of hay drawn by a team of
+horses, at whose head plodded a waggoner in a blue cotton blouse, whip
+in hand.
+
+"_He, la-bas!_" shouted the coiner from the window.
+
+The waggoner turned and looked eagerly up.
+
+"_Qu'avez-vous?_" demanded the waggoner. "What's the matter?"
+
+"Have you seen anyone jump out of window?" shouted Lenoir.
+
+The waggoner responded tartly, for he fancied that his questioner was
+trying to chaff him.
+
+"I've seen no one mad enough for that; in fact I've seen no one madder
+than you since I've been in this part of the country."
+
+"_Espece de voyou!_" cried the irritable Lenoir, "_je te ficherais
+une danse si j'avais le temps pour t'apprendrs ce que c'est que la
+politesse_. I'd dust your jacket for you if I had the time to teach you
+politeness."
+
+"You're not likely to have time enough for that, as long as you live,
+_espece de pignouf_."
+
+"Idiot!"
+
+"_Imbecile!_"
+
+This interchange of compliments appeared to relieve the belligerent
+parties considerably.
+
+Lenoir was obliged to give it up for a bad job.
+
+Suddenly a singular idea shot into his head.
+
+The hay cart!
+
+What if Herbert Murray had got into it unseen and was there now,
+without his presence being suspected by the waggoner?
+
+Lenoir reflected for a moment.
+
+Then he darted down the stairs in pursuit of the waggon.
+
+"Hullo, there, driver!" he shouted.
+
+The waggoner looked over his shoulder and recognised Lenoir.
+
+So he whipped up.
+
+The best pace that even a stout team of horses could put on, with a big
+load of hay behind them was not to say racehorse speed, so the coiner
+soon caught them up.
+
+The waggoner awaited his approach, grasping his whip with a nervous
+grip that foreboded mischief.
+
+On came Lenoir.
+
+"I say, my friend," he called out, "I think you have a man concealed in
+the cart!"
+
+"_Va-t-en!_--get out!" retorted the waggoner.
+
+"I am serious. Will you oblige me by pulling up and looking?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+Lenoir had a very limited stock of patience, and he soon came to the
+end of it.
+
+He ran to the leading horse and pulled it up sharply.
+
+The waggoner swore and lashed up.
+
+But Lenoir, turning his attention next to the shaft horse, pulled the
+waggon up to a standstill.
+
+And the waggoner, furious at this, lashed Lenoir.
+
+The whip caught him round the head and shoulders, curling about so that
+the man could not get it free.
+
+Lenoir caught at the thong, and with a sudden jerk, brought the
+waggoner down from his seat.
+
+Now began as pretty a little skirmish as you could wish to see.
+
+The waggoner fell an easy prey to the furious coiner at first.
+
+He was half-dazed with being jerked down to the ground.
+
+But he soon recovered himself.
+
+Then he set to punching at Lenoir with all his strength.
+
+Then they grappled fiercely with each other.
+
+A desperate struggle for supremacy ensued.
+
+At length Lenoir's superior strength and science prevailed, tough as
+the waggoner was.
+
+The latter lay under the coiner, whose knee pressed cruelly upon his
+chest.
+
+"Now ask my pardon," said Lenoir.
+
+"Never!" roared the defeated waggoner, stoutly.
+
+"I shall kill you if you don't," said Lenoir, threateningly.
+
+"Mind you don't get finished off first," said the waggoner
+significantly.
+
+As he spoke, he was looking up over his conqueror's shoulder.
+
+Lenoir perceived this, but thought it only a _ruse_ to get him to shift
+his hold.
+
+So, with a contemptuous smile, he raised his clenched fist to deal the
+luckless waggoner a blow that was to knock every scrap of sense out of
+his unfortunate cranium.
+
+"Take that!"
+
+But before the waggoner could get it, Lenoir received something himself
+that sent him to earth with a hollow groan--felled like a bullock
+beneath the butcher's pole-axe.
+
+Somebody had after all been concealed in the waggon.
+
+That somebody was Herbert Murray himself.
+
+The English youth had heard the scuffle, and seeing his opportunity, he
+slid out of his place of concealment and joined in the fight at the
+very right moment.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The waggoner shook himself together.
+
+"That was neatly done, _camarade_," he said.
+
+"I was just in time," said Murray; "look after him. He is wanted by the
+police; a desperate customer. They are after him now."
+
+"He's very quiet," said the waggoner, with a curious glance.
+
+"He's not dead," returned Murray; "he has his destiny to fulfil yet."
+
+"What may that be?"
+
+"The galleys," was the reply.
+
+The waggoner stared hard at young Murray.
+
+"I don't like the look of you much more than that of the beast lying
+there," he thought to himself; "mind you don't keep him company in the
+galleys."
+
+An odd fancy to cross a stranger's mind.
+
+Was it prophetic?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCV.
+
+PLANS FOR OUR FRIENDS' RELEASE--MURRAY'S COUNTER-PLOT--THE LETTER, AND
+HOW IT WAS INTERCEPTED--HERBERT MURRAY TRIUMPHS--CHIVEY WORKS THE
+ARTFUL DODGE.
+
+
+"Well," exclaimed the unfortunate Mole, "this is a nice go!"
+
+"I'm glad you think it nice," said young Jack, bitterly.
+
+As they spoke, they were being led through the streets of Marseilles,
+handcuffed and two abreast, with a brace of gendarmes between each
+couple.
+
+The people flocked out to stare at the "notorious gang of forgers,
+which"--so rang the report--"had just been captured by the police,
+after making a desperate resistance."
+
+The first impulse of Jack Harkaway himself had been naturally to resist
+his captors.
+
+But he was speedily shown the uselessness of such a course.
+
+When they were brought up before the judge for examination, they
+protested their innocence, and told the simple truth.
+
+But this did not avail them.
+
+Herbert Murray had prepared the way for their statements to be regarded
+as falsehoods.
+
+By this means, when Jack protested that his name was Harkaway, it went
+clearly against him, inasmuch as it corroborated what Murray had said.
+
+So they were remanded, one and all, and sent back to the cells.
+
+Mr. Mole's indignation could not be subdued.
+
+"These people are worse than savages!" he exclaimed; "but we'll let
+them know. They shall make us ample reparation for this indignity."
+
+He talked threateningly of the British ambassador, and made all kinds
+of threats.
+
+But he was poohpoohed by the authorities.
+
+Harry Girdwood was the only one of the party who kept his coolness.
+
+He put forth his request with so much earnestness, to be allowed to see
+the English consul, that his request was granted at once.
+
+He drew up a letter and entrusted it to the gaoler, who promised to
+have it forwarded.
+
+Now this became known to Herbert Murray, and he then saw that he had
+still a task of no ordinary difficulty before him--that it was not
+sufficient alone to have his hated enemies arrested.
+
+The greater difficulty by far was to keep them now that he had secured
+them.
+
+In this crisis he once more consulted with his worthless servant and
+confederate, Chivey.
+
+"Our next job," said Chivey, doubtfully, "is to get at the gaoler, and
+stop the letter he has received from reaching its destination."
+
+"How would you set to work?" demanded his master.
+
+"You do what you can inside," said Chivey, "and I'll lay in wait for
+the messenger with the letter outside in case you fail."
+
+"Good."
+
+"You can buy that gaoler," said the tiger.
+
+"I will."
+
+"Do so. Your task is the easier of the two. Ten francs ought to square
+him."
+
+"It ought," said Murray; "but I question if it will."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Murray was doomed to a sad disappointment in his operations, for do
+what he would, he could not "get at" the man charged with delivering
+the Harkaways' letters.
+
+But he contrived to ascertain who the man was, and to give a
+description of him to the tiger.
+
+Chivey saw the man come out of the prison, and he thought over various
+plans for getting hold of the letter which he knew that he must be
+carrying.
+
+His first idea was to go up to him and address him straight off upon
+the subject; but this would not do.
+
+The messenger would in all probability take the alarm.
+
+He next had an idea of following up the messenger, and after giving him
+a crack on the head, rifling his pockets.
+
+This idea he abandoned even sooner than the first, and this for sundry
+wholesome reasons.
+
+Firstly, the man's road did not lead him into any sufficiently quiet
+places for such an attempt.
+
+Secondly, the man was a tough-looking customer, and an awkward fellow
+to tackle.
+
+And thirdly--but the second reason sufficed to send Chivey's mind away
+from all ideas of violence.
+
+No; deeds of daring were not at all in Chivey's line.
+
+He had a notion, however, and this was to go as fast as he could to the
+British consul's, and there to be ready for the messenger when he came.
+
+His plans were not more matured than this; but chance seemed to very
+much favour this precious pair of youthful scamps--for the time being,
+at any rate.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Chivey timed his own arrival at the consul's residence, so as to be
+there just a few minutes in advance of the prison messenger.
+
+The servant who admitted him was an Englishman, and told Chivey that
+his master was particularly engaged just then, and would not be visible
+for some considerable time.
+
+"Be so good as to ask when I can see your master," said Chivey, with an
+air of lofty condescension.
+
+"I must not disturb him now," said the servant.
+
+"He will be very vexed with you if you don't," returned Chivey, "when
+he knows my business."
+
+The servant being only impressed with this threat, went off at once to
+obey the insidious tiger, who of course was not in livery.
+
+Barely had the consul's servant disappeared, when the messenger from
+the prison entered.
+
+Chivey recognised him instantly.
+
+"_Une lettre pour Monsieur le Consul_," said the messenger.
+
+Chivey held out his hand, and the man, taking it for granted that
+Chivey belonged to the consular establishment, gave it to him.
+
+"_Il y a une reponse_--there is an answer," said the messenger.
+
+"It will be forwarded," returned Chivey, with cool presence of mind.
+
+"I ought to take it with me," said the messenger.
+
+"I can't disturb his excellency now," replied the tiger; "those are my
+master's express orders, which I can't presume to disobey. He will send
+the answer on immediately it is ready."
+
+The man paused.
+
+"The consul was expecting this letter," said Chivey, moving towards the
+door, "and he told me particularly that he would send the answer on."
+
+"_Puisqu'il est ainsi_," said the man, dubiously. "Since it must be so,
+I suppose I had better leave the letter."
+
+"Of course you had," returned Chivey, closing the door. "I daresay you
+will get the answer within an hour."
+
+At that very moment the servant returned with a message from the consul
+to the effect that in half an hour he could be seen, if the applicant
+would call again.
+
+"Very good," said Chivey, in the same patronising manner, "you may tell
+your master that I will look back later on."
+
+"Very well, sir."
+
+Chivey walked out, chuckling inwardly at the success of his mission.
+
+"What could be easier?" said the Cockney scamp to himself; "shelling
+peas is a fool to it."
+
+But before he could get fairly over the threshold, the servant stopped
+him with a question that startled him a little, and well-nigh made him
+lose his presence of mind.
+
+"The man who called just now, sir, he left a letter."
+
+"Eh? Oh, yes!"
+
+"For you, sir?"
+
+"Yes," added Chivey with the coolest effrontery. "My servant knew that
+I had come on here; thinking to be detained some time with his
+excellency the consul, I left word at my hotel where I was coming, and
+he followed me here with a letter."
+
+"Oh, I see, sir," returned the servant, obsequiously, "quite so, sir,
+beg pardon, sir."
+
+"Not at all, my good man, not at all," returned Chivey, superciliously;
+"you are a very civil, well-spoken young man--here is a trifle for
+you."
+
+He passed the servant a large silver coin, and walked on.
+
+The servant bowed again and examined the coin, in the process of
+bobbing his head.
+
+"Five francs," said the consul's servant, to himself; "he's a real
+swell, anyone can see."
+
+One word more.
+
+The five-franc piece which had in no slight degree biassed the
+servant's opinion of the visitor, was one of Pierre Lenoir's admirable
+manufacture.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"Let's have a look at the letter, Chivey," said Herbert Murray, as soon
+as his servant got back.
+
+But Chivey seemed to hesitate.
+
+"Come, come," said Murray, "we shall not quarrel about the terms."
+
+"We oughnt't to," returned the tiger, "for it's worth a Jew's eye."
+
+Murray tore the letter open and read it down eagerly.
+
+As it throws some additional light upon the actual state of affairs
+with the Harkaway party, possibly it may be as well to give the letter
+of young Jack to the consul verbatim.
+
+It was dated from the prison.
+
+    "SIR,--I wish to solicit your immediate assistance in getting
+    released from the above uncomfortable premises, where, in company
+    with a party of friends and fellow-travellers, I have been by a
+    singular accident carried by the police. From scraps of information
+    I have gained while here, I believe I am correct in asserting that
+    we have fallen into a trap, cunningly prepared for us by an
+    unscrupulous fellow-countryman of ours, who has cogent reasons for
+    wishing us out of the way, and has accordingly caused me and my
+    friends to be arrested as coiners. The person in question is named
+    Herbert Murray, but I am unable to say under what _alias_ he is at
+    present known in this part of the world. I mention this that you
+    may be able to keep an eye upon the individual pending our release
+    on bail, for I presume that bail is a French institution. My
+    signature will serve you for reference on me, as it may readily be
+    identified at my father's bankers here, Messrs. B. Fould & Co.
+
+    "Your obedient servant,
+
+    "JACK HARKAWAY."
+
+Herbert Murray pursed his brows as he read on.
+
+"What do you think of that?" demanded Chivey.
+
+"Queer!"
+
+"Precious queer."
+
+"The one lesson to be learnt from it, Chivey," said his master, "is to
+stop all correspondence between the prisoners and the consul."
+
+"And push forward the trial as much as possible."
+
+"Yes, and get together as many reliable witnesses as we can----"
+
+"Buy them at a pound apiece," concluded Chivey.
+
+"Right," said Herbert Murray, with a mischievous grin; "forewarned,
+forearmed; we hold them now and we'll keep them----"
+
+"Please the pigs," concluded Chivey fervently.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCVI.
+
+OUR FRIENDS IN DURANCE VILE--A STROKE FOR LIBERTY--THE PRISONERS'
+PLOT--MOLE IS PRESCRIBED FOR--A FRIEND IN NEED--HOPES AND
+MISGIVINGS--"OLD WET BLANKET."
+
+
+"It's very odd."
+
+"Very."
+
+"And scarcely polite," suggested Mr. Mole.
+
+"Well, scarcely."
+
+"That makes the fourth letter I have written to him, and he doesn't
+even condescend to notice them."
+
+"Very odd."
+
+"Very."
+
+But while all the sufferers by the seeming neglect of the consul were
+expressing themselves so freely in the matter, old Sobersides, as Jack
+called his comrade, Harry Girdwood, remained silent and meditative.
+
+Jack had great faith in his thoughtful chum.
+
+"A penny for your thoughts, Harry," said he.
+
+"I'll give them for nix," returned Harry Girdwood, gaily.
+
+"Out with it."
+
+"I was wondering whether, while you are all blaming the poor consul, he
+has ever received your letters."
+
+"What, the four?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Of course."
+
+"I don't see it."
+
+"But, my dear fellow, consider. One may have miscarried--or two--but
+hang it! all four can't have gone wrong."
+
+"Of course not," said Mole, with the air of a man who puts a final stop
+to all arguments.
+
+"There I beg leave to differ with you all."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"The letters have not reached the consul, perhaps; they may have been
+intercepted."
+
+"By whom?" was Jack's natural question.
+
+"Can't say positively; possibly by Murray."
+
+"Is it likely?"
+
+"Is it not?"
+
+"I don't see, unless he bought over the messenger."
+
+"And what is more likely than that?" said Harry. "And if they have
+bought over one messenger, it is for good and all, not for a single
+letter, but for every scrap of paper you may send out of the prison,
+you may depend upon it."
+
+This simple reasoning struck his hearers.
+
+"Upon my life!" exclaimed Jack, "I believe Harry's right. We must
+tackle the governor."
+
+"So I think."
+
+"And I too," added Harry Girdwood; "but how?"
+
+"I'll write him a letter."
+
+"Yes; and send it to him by the gaoler," said Harry.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The gaoler who carried all the other letters? Why, Jack, Jack, what a
+thoughtless, rattlebrained chap you are. What on earth is the use of
+such a move as that?"
+
+Jack's countenance fell again at this.
+
+"You're right, Harry. I go jumping like a bull at a gate as usual. What
+would you do?"
+
+Harry's answer was brief and sententious.
+
+"Think."
+
+"Do so, mate," returned Jack, hopefully again; "do so."
+
+"I will."
+
+He pressed his lips and knit his brows with a burlesque, melodramatic
+air, and strode up and down, with his forefinger to his forehead.
+
+He stopped suddenly and stamped twice, as a haughty earl might do in a
+transpontine tragedy when resolving upon his crowning villany, and
+exclaimed in a voice suggestive of fiend-like triumph--
+
+"I have it."
+
+"Hold it tight, then."
+
+"One of us must sham ill so as to get the doctor here. Once he's here,
+we shall be all right."
+
+"Hurrah!" cried Jack Harkaway; "that's the notion. We shall yet defeat
+the schemes of that incarnate fiend, Murray."
+
+"That is a capital idea," said Mr. Mole. "You have suggested quite a
+new idea."
+
+"Now stop; the next thing for us to think of is who is to be the sham
+invalid," said Jack.
+
+"I would suggest Tinker," said Harry.
+
+"Or Bogey," observed Mr. Mole.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it would not be easy to tell whether they looked in delicate
+health or not."
+
+"There's something in that," said Jack, "but there's this to say
+against it."
+
+"What?"
+
+"They might not be able to keep the game up so well as one of
+ourselves, so I think----"
+
+Here Jack paused, whilst Harry and he exchanged a meaning wink
+unobserved by the old gentleman.
+
+"I think that it ought to be Mr. Mole," continued our hero.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why, sir; can you ask why? You are such a lovely shammer."
+
+"Come, I say," began Mr. Mole, scarcely relishing it.
+
+"He's quite right, sir," said Harry Girdwood, "you are inimitable as a
+shammer."
+
+"I?"
+
+"You can pitch it so strong, Mr. Mole," said Jack.
+
+"And so natural," added Harry Girdwood.
+
+"Life-like," said the two together, in mingled tones of rapt
+admiration.
+
+Mr. Mole was but human.
+
+Humanity is but frail, and ever open to the voice of flattery.
+
+What could Mole do but yield?
+
+Nothing.
+
+He gave in, and shammed very ill indeed.
+
+Well, the result of this was that the gaoler made his report, and the
+doctor came.
+
+"_De quoi se plaint-il?_" demanded the doctor, as he entered the cell.
+
+"What does he say?" asked Mole; "I'm as deaf as an adder."
+
+"The doctor asks what you complain of?" said Jack, in a very loud
+voice.
+
+"Oh, any thing he likes," returned Mole, impatiently.
+
+They were on the point of bursting out laughing at this, when the
+doctor startled them considerably by saying in broken (but
+understandable) English--
+
+"What he say--any thing I like? _Singulier!_"
+
+"Ahem!"
+
+Harry Girdwood gave the word; a glance of intelligence went round.
+
+They, to use Jack's expression, pulled themselves together, and looked
+serious.
+
+"It is headache," said Jack. "Violent headache, he says."
+
+"Yes," said Mole.
+
+"Show your tongue."
+
+Mole thrust it out, and then the doctor felt his pulse.
+
+"Very bad; you have the fever."
+
+"What?" ejaculated Mole, aghast.
+
+"You have the fever."
+
+"What sort?"
+
+The surgeon looked puzzled.
+
+"Typhus or scarlet, I should say," suggested Jack.
+
+"What is that?" demanded the French doctor, curiously. "_Je ne suis
+pas tres fort_--I am not very strong in English."
+
+"Then, sir," said Jack, "pray accept my compliments upon your
+proficiency; it is really very remarkable."
+
+"You are very good to say that," returned the surgeon; "_mais_--now
+for our _malade_--what is _malade_ in English?"
+
+"Patient."
+
+"Patient! Well, I hope that he will justify ze designation. What do you
+feel?" he added to Mr. Mole.
+
+"Rush of blood to the head," said Mole, thinking this quite a safe
+symptom to announce.
+
+"Yes, yes--_sans doute_--no doubt," said the doctor, looking as wise as
+an owl. "We can make that better for you quick--a little _sinapisme_."
+
+"That's what you call a mustard plaister, isn't it?" said Harry.
+
+"_Sinapisme_--mustard who?" demanded the French doctor of Jack.
+
+"Plaister."
+
+"_Merci._"
+
+"I'm not going to have any mustard plaister on," said Mole.
+
+"_Comment!_" exclaimed the doctor; "_il n'en veut pas!_ he will not!
+_Morbleu!_ Ze prisonniers have what ze docteur ordonnances."
+
+"Will he?"
+
+"Yes. You are quite right, doctor," said Jack, in French. "Where is he
+to have on the plaister?"
+
+"On his legs, at the back of his ankles," replied the doctor; "it is to
+draw the blood from his head."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+Jack translated, and the patient singularly enough grew reassured
+immediately.
+
+"It won't hurt much on the back of your legs, Mr. Mole," said Harry.
+
+They enjoyed a quiet grin to themselves at this.
+
+The prison doctor then sent the gaoler for writing materials for the
+purpose of writing out a prescription.
+
+Then was their chance.
+
+"Doctor," said Jack, "I want to see the governor."
+
+"Why have you not asked, then, through the gaoler?"
+
+"I prefer some other method."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I don't know whether the gaoler is safe."
+
+"I don't understand you," said the doctor.
+
+"I have written four letters to the British consul," returned Jack,
+"and no answer has come."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, sir, I am afraid he has never received the letters."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because my name is well known to him, and he would have replied. I
+have referred him to the chief banker of the town, who can readily
+identify me through my signature. I wish them to communicate with my
+father, and, in a word, to show the authorities how utterly ridiculous
+and preposterous is the charge against us in spite of appearances."
+
+Jack's earnestness caught his attention.
+
+"They would never dare to keep letters back."
+
+"Money has tempted them, I feel assured."
+
+"Whose money?"
+
+"The money of a spy--a fellow-countryman of ours, who has interest in
+keeping me out of the way."
+
+"His name?"
+
+"His real name is Herbert Murray, his assumed name is Markby."
+
+"Markby; I know that name. Of course; he is the principal witness
+against you. You say his assumed name?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Can you prove it?"
+
+"Easily; if I can get at the means of establishing a defence. It is to
+effect this, that I have addressed myself to the consul, but he does
+not reply, so that, monstrous and absurd as this charge is, we are
+unable to disprove it, simply because here we are tied hand and foot."
+
+"This is very strange."
+
+The doctor, as he spoke, shot them a dubious glance, which did not
+escape Jack.
+
+"I tell you, sir, that my father is rich and influential. Moreover, he
+is exceedingly liberal in money matters with me. I have not the
+slightest need to add to my income by any means whatever, much less
+dishonest courses."
+
+"What proof can I offer to the governor?"
+
+"Plenty," returned Jack, eagerly. "Here is my father's address in
+England; let him be communicated with immediately. This Markby is an
+unscrupulous rascal. He has forged my name to several cheques, and
+robbed me. He fears detection, and has built up a cunning plot, using
+the coiner, Lenoir, as his cat's paw, and while we are caged here upon
+this ridiculous charge, he can get off to another part of the world."
+
+This convinced the prison surgeon completely.
+
+"I will see the governor at once," said he; "meanwhile, see that your
+obstinate old friend attends to my instructions, and he will soon be
+well."
+
+"Excuse me, doctor," said Jack, "but the honest truth is that he is not
+ill at all."
+
+"Not ill!"
+
+"No. We doubted the gaoler's honesty, and, fearing he was bought over
+by our enemy, adopted this ruse."
+
+"To see me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Ha, ha! I see it all now; very ingenious on your part. Well, well, my
+young friend, I will see the governor at once, and you shall not be
+long in trouble."
+
+"You will earn my eternal gratitude, and that of my fellow-prisoners,
+as well as the much more substantial acknowledgment of my father."
+
+"_Bien, bien_," said the surgeon smiling. "_Au revoir!_"
+
+And bowing pleasantly to the prisoners generally, the doctor left the
+cell.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"There," said Jack. "You may look upon that as settled, so comfort
+yourselves."
+
+"He has gone to the governor?" asked Mole.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Hurrah!"
+
+"I hope it will go all right now," said Harry Girdwood, who was
+scarcely so cheerful as his companions.
+
+"You wretched old wet blanket!" exclaimed Jack, gaily, "of course it
+will."
+
+"Of course," added Mole.
+
+"You may consider yourself as good as outside the prison already."
+
+"I do, for one," said Mole, quite hilarious at the prospect.
+
+"Humph!" said Harry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCVII.
+
+THE DOCTOR AND THE GOVERNOR--HOW THE PLOT WORKS IN FAVOUR OF JACK'S
+ENEMIES--UNLUCKY PRISONERS!
+
+
+"_Sapristi!_"
+
+Thus spake the governor of the prison.
+
+The occasion was within a few minutes of the doctor's entrance into his
+private cabinet, to which the medico had gone immediately after
+quitting the English-prisoners.
+
+"_Sapristi!_"
+
+"Well, what they say is very easily verified," said the doctor, rather
+tartly.
+
+The fact is that he was somewhat nettled at the doubting expression
+with which the governor met his account of his interview with Jack
+Harkaway and his fellow prisoners.
+
+"My dear Doctor Berteaux," returned the governor, with the most
+irritating smile, "this youth is a notorious young scoundrel. Just see
+how clever he must be, too; he has actually imposed upon the astute
+Doctor Berteaux, who has such a vast experience amongst criminals."
+
+"But, sir----"
+
+"I tell you, doctor, I know all about this young scoundrel from A to Z.
+His real name is Herbert Murray."
+
+"Why, that he said was the real name of the agent Markby," exclaimed
+the doctor.
+
+"The deuce he did. Egad! doctor, that's beautiful."
+
+And the governor chuckled rarely at the idea.
+
+The doctor began to look a little uncomfortable.
+
+"Do you mean to say----"
+
+"That you have been egregiously humbugged? Yes, that's exactly what I
+do mean. Why, doctor, doctor, at your time of life consider."
+
+"But----"
+
+"Come, come, get rid of this silly fancy, old friend."
+
+"At least," insisted the doctor, "do me the favour to communicate with
+the consul."
+
+"Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind. You can see the British consul
+if you like, and a rare laugh he'll enjoy at your expense when he sees
+how you have been duped by this young scoundrel."
+
+"Ahem!"
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Well, the doctor did not communicate with the consul after this, and
+Jack Harkaway waited with his companions, Mole and the "wet blanket,"
+Harry Girdwood, and the two faithful darkeys, and waited in vain.
+
+Waited until they grew heart-sick with hope deferred.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCVIII.
+
+JOE DEERING AT HOME AGAIN--ON THE LOOKOUT--NEWS AT LAST--JOVIAL CAPTAIN
+ROBINSON IN DANGER.
+
+
+We must cross the Channel to England again.
+
+But not for long.
+
+One character in our drama of real life has not appeared upon the scene
+for some time.
+
+We allude to the skipper of the "Albatross," Joe Deering.
+
+Captain Deering had finished his course and returned to his native
+land.
+
+He was anxious to get home, for he had a purpose in view.
+
+He wished to rout out two men to whom he owed a very deep grudge, which
+he was fully determined to pay off.
+
+One was Mr. Murray, the treacherous owner of the ill-fated "Albatross,"
+for Captain Deering, it should be borne in mind, was ignorant of the
+wretched man's well-merited fate.
+
+The other was that traitor friend of his, the accomplice of the elder
+Murray--jovial Captain Robinson.
+
+Joe Deering was in earnest, and he pursued his inquiries with the
+utmost diligence.
+
+The jovial captain was not to be heard of anywhere at first.
+
+But Joe Deering, baffled here, like a skilled mariner as he was, set
+out on another tack.
+
+He made his inquiries for Mr. Murray alone.
+
+"Where one thief is," said Joe, to himself, "the other murdering
+scoundrel is sure to be not far off."
+
+For some time his search proved unavailing again; but he was presently
+rewarded for his perseverance by the first gleam of good luck.
+
+He learnt the late address of Murray senior.
+
+"This is a step in the right direction," said Joe Deering, with a
+chuckle.
+
+So with renewed hope he went to the house.
+
+"Mr. Murray ain't been home for many months, sir," said the
+housekeeper, in reply to Deering's inquiry, "and I haven't any news of
+him since goodness knows when."
+
+"You don't mean that?" said Deering, aghast.
+
+"Indeed, but I do, and I hope that you're not going to misbelieve me
+like that Captain Robinson, that calls here every----"
+
+"What?" ejaculated Deering. "Avast there. Captain Robinson, did you
+say?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"I can't very well be off knowing him, seeing as he's here about twice
+a day, and I know he never wished my poor master no good."
+
+"What makes you think that?" asked Joe Deering.
+
+"Master used always to try to avoid seeing him, poor old gentleman,"
+replied the housekeeper.
+
+"Why do you call him 'poor old gentleman?'"
+
+"Because I know he suffered dreadfully, and I think he was worried by
+that Robinson into doing something dreadful."
+
+"How dreadful?"
+
+Joe Deering's curiosity was excited now by the housekeeper's manner,
+and he pressed her for further information.
+
+"That Captain Robinson worrited him to a skeleton, sir," she answered;
+"he was always here nag, nag, nagging night and day. At last my poor
+master bolted, sir."
+
+"Bolted!"
+
+"Ran away."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"I don't know; but he bolted from here, and from Captain Robinson."
+
+"But Mr. Murray was surely not in fear of Captain Robinson?"
+
+"Indeed, he was. Captain Robinson knew something about my poor master
+that oughtn't to be known, so it was said, and he was always trying to
+force Mr. Murray to give him money."
+
+"The deuce he was!" said Captain Deering. "This throws a new light on
+the scoundrel and his cursed good-natured-looking figure-head."
+
+"A deceitful beast!" said the housekeeper, warmly. "You would have
+thought that he couldn't hurt a worm to look at him, and yet I do
+believe that he's drove poor Mr. Murray to make away with himself."
+
+"You don't think that?"
+
+"What else can I think? He hasn't been seen or heard or for months and
+months. But if I wasn't so heavy at heart over that, sir, I could laugh
+for joy to see that beast of a Captain Robinson's disappointment every
+time he comes."
+
+"So he comes often?" said Joe Deering, eagerly.
+
+"Every day; sometimes twice a day," was the reply.
+
+Deering thought this information over quietly.
+
+"Would you like to serve him out?" he asked presently.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Captain Robinson," responded Deering.
+
+"That I should, indeed," said the housekeeper, eagerly; "only show me
+how to do it."
+
+"I will."
+
+Joe Deering did.
+
+He made himself known to the woman, and convinced her that he had ample
+reason for wishing to repay the grudge.
+
+And they plotted together to wreak a well-merited vengeance upon that
+falsely jovial Captain Robinson.
+
+The nature of that vengeance you will learn if you have patience to
+wait till the next chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XCIX.
+
+HOW CAPTAIN ROBINSON CAME TO APPLY HIS LEECH AGAIN--WHAT CAME OF
+IT--THE SEA GIVES UP ITS DEAD--A FEARSOME SIGHT--THE TRAITOR'S
+TERROR--JOE DEERING WIPES OFF AN OLD SCORE.
+
+
+Captain Robinson was more jovial than ever.
+
+His honest-looking, ruddy face was beaming with smiles, and he appeared
+as hearty as the most honest, upright and plain-sailing fellow in the
+world.
+
+Captain Robinson was like most sailors in one respect; he was
+remarkably superstitious.
+
+Instinctive presage of good luck to-day put him in rare spirits, as he
+made his customary call.
+
+"I feel as if I was going to land him to-day," muttered the jovial
+captain to himself.
+
+And his face was actually beaming with smiles, as his hand rested on
+the knocker.
+
+"Oh, good, morning, Mrs. Wilmot," he said, heartily; "how are you this
+bright morning, Mrs. Wilmot?"
+
+"Better, thank you, Captain Robinson," returned the housekeeper, giving
+him an odd glance.
+
+"That's hearty. Why, you are looking more yourself."
+
+"Better in health, because better in spirits," said the housekeeper,
+insidiously.
+
+The captain pricked up his ears at this.
+
+"Any better news by chance, Mrs. Wilmot?" said he.
+
+"Ah, that there is indeed," said she.
+
+"About the master?" asked he.
+
+"That's it," said she.
+
+"You don't mean to say that he's coming home again?"
+
+"I don't mean to say that he's coming," said the housekeeper, with
+wondrous significance.
+
+"Why, whatever are you driving at?" he said.
+
+"I'm not a-driving at nothing, Captain Robinson--leastways, not that I
+am aware of. All I know is, that Mr. Murray ain't likely to be coming
+home, for he ain't in a position to come home, seeing as----"
+
+She paused.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Guess what."
+
+"Hang it all, I can't."
+
+"You must."
+
+She laughed outright, and clapped her hands in regular kitten-like joy.
+
+"What on earth do you mean, Mrs. Wilmot? I hate such palavering and
+beating about the bush. If he's coming home, say so; if he ain't coming
+home, tell me where I can see him, or where he's hiding."
+
+"Why, he can't be coming home when----"
+
+Here she stopped short in the most aggravating manner in the world.
+
+The jovial captain grew black and threatening.
+
+He was just going to burst out into a noisy fit of abusive language,
+when she stopped him short with a remark which quite startled him.
+
+"There, there, what an impatient man you are, surely, Captain Robinson.
+Go up stairs and see for yourself why he ain't coming home."
+
+The captain could only infer one thing from her words.
+
+Murray was back.
+
+Yes, he was not coming home, because he had already come.
+
+This explained the housekeeper's joyous spirits, which seemed to bubble
+over in her.
+
+"She's a nice old gal," said Robinson to himself, as he mounted the
+stairs, "and I'll stand her a trifle after I have applied my leech to
+her master again. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+The jovial captain laughed at the quaint conceit.
+
+He rarely enjoyed the prospect of once more gloating over the miserable
+Murray writhing under the moral pressure.
+
+"I'll make him bleed handsome for keeping away so long," thought this
+jovial mariner. "I wonder how he'll enjoy the leech after such a long
+while?"
+
+His hand rested upon the handle of the door.
+
+What a startler it would be for Mr. Murray.
+
+"I'll knock," thought the jovial Captain Robinson; "he'll think it's
+Mother Wilmot again. Such larks!"
+
+He knocked.
+
+"Come in."
+
+How changed the voice sounded.
+
+"He's caught cold," thought the practical joker.
+
+He opened the door.
+
+Closed it carefully behind him to guard against intrusion.
+
+Then he turn and faced--Joe Deering!
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Jovial Captain Robinson stood aghast.
+
+The sight of his old friend literally petrified him.
+
+Deering stood facing the jovial scoundrel, his hands leaning on the
+table.
+
+Not a muscle of his face moved.
+
+A cold, settled expression was in his eyes.
+
+So fixed, so steady, that they might have been set in the head of a
+dead man.
+
+The jovial Robinson was tongue-tied for a time.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"Joe!"
+
+This monosyllable he faltered after a long while, and after a very big
+effort.
+
+But Joe Deering said never a word in reply, nor did he move a muscle.
+
+"Joe."
+
+Deering stared at him with the same fixed, glassy eyes, until Jovial
+Captain Robinson had a hideous idea flash across him.
+
+Was it really a living man there?
+
+He fastened a fixed, fascinating look upon the figure of the friend he
+had so villainously betrayed, and retreating a step, groped about
+behind him, for the handle of the door.
+
+At last he got hold of it, and turned it.
+
+"Stop!"
+
+Deering had spoken, and with a jerk the jovial Captain Robinson turned
+round.
+
+"Joe!" he gasped, again, "did you speak?"
+
+Now Joe Deering saw by the traitor's pallid cheeks, and frightened
+look, what was passing in his mind.
+
+So he was at no pains to destroy the illusion.
+
+"I did. Your ears did not deceive you."
+
+"I thought not," faltered Captain Robinson, plucking up in a faint
+degree, however.
+
+"You marvel to see the ocean give up its dead," began Joe Deering, in a
+hollow voice.
+
+Jovial Captain Robinson sank against the door for support, while a
+delicate green tint spread itself over his face.
+
+We have said that he was a superstitious man.
+
+This huge lump of humanity--nay, rather of inhumanity--was worse than a
+schoolgirl in point of courage.
+
+The very word ghost frightened him, if he saw it in print.
+
+He was sure that Joe Deering was dead.
+
+Certain was he that Joe Deering had been decoyed into that floating
+coffin, and sent to a watery grave by himself.
+
+Here then was the betrayed man's ghost come to reproach him with his
+crime.
+
+The strong man turned heart-sick, and was like to faint.
+
+Joe Deering looked at the fear-stricken traitor in silence.
+
+He enjoyed his terror keenly indeed.
+
+No feeling of pity at the abject terror of the wretched man crossed
+him.
+
+For his thoughts went back to those fearful days and nights they passed
+on board the doomed "Albatross."
+
+Jovial Captain Robinson had been pitiless before, and the sufferings
+gone through in that terrible time had hardened Joe Deering's kind
+heart.
+
+A genial, generous and soft-hearted fellow as a rule, he could not
+pardon this infamous wretch who had lured him into such a trap, even
+while professing the most affectionate friendship for him.
+
+No!
+
+This was Joe Deering's chance--his long looked-for opportunity, and no
+weak emotion should spoil the revenge which he had waited for so
+patiently.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Jovial Captain Robinson essayed to speak.
+
+In a faint, faltering voice, he managed to pronounce Joe Deering's
+name.
+
+"Well, murderer!" returned Joe Deering; "what is it you want?"
+
+"I want you to shake hands with me, Joe," responded the other, almost
+inaudibly.
+
+"Assassin!"
+
+"I--I--I don't mean you any harm," gasped jovial Captain Robinson.
+
+"Liar!" thundered Joe Deering; "you dare make that statement, hovering
+as you do, between life and death!"
+
+"No, no, no, no!" shrieked the jovial captain; "not that, Joe, not
+that."
+
+"Yes, I say; for you are not long for this world."
+
+"You are not sent to tell me that, Joe," said Robinson, his voice dying
+away in spite of a desperate effort to make it audible.
+
+"I am."
+
+"Ugh!"
+
+And with a half groan, half grunt, he sank upon the ground prostrate.
+
+Before his senses had fairly fled, Joe Deering strode over to him, and
+delivered him a heavy kick behind.
+
+This brought him round in a wonderful way.
+
+He knew that it was a material foot that had given that kick, and the
+conviction was a marvellous relief to him.
+
+He scrambled up.
+
+As he got to his feet, Joe Deering fixed him by the throat, and shook
+him.
+
+"You plotted to accomplish my murder," he said, "but now my turn's
+come, Robinson, and I mean to punish you."
+
+Jovial Captain Robinson was a coward, an arrant cur, yet he infinitely
+preferred having to tackle flesh and blood, to battling with a ghost.
+
+He turned upon his assailant.
+
+But Deering was not to be denied.
+
+Before the jovial captain could do any thing to help himself, Joe
+Deering hammered his face into a jelly.
+
+Half dazed, stunned, and blinded, Robinson fought it out, and
+struggling fiercely, he shook himself free.
+
+And then he fled like a beaten cur from the house.
+
+Joe Deering did not attempt to follow him.
+
+"There," he said, calmly enough, considering what had gone before,
+"that's done. Thank goodness it's off my mind. Mr. Murray must have my
+next attention."
+
+He little thought that the wretched shipowner had already paid the
+penalty of his crimes.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Jovial Captain Robinson was never the same man again.
+
+Whether it was the physical or the mental punishment he had had, we
+cannot possibly determine, but certain it is that something broke him
+up from that day, and he lingered on a miserable life of two years or
+more, and died in abject want.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER C.
+
+A DOSE OF PALM OIL.
+
+
+Having settled the hash of jovial Captain Robinson, we now proceed to
+the pleasant task of measuring out justice to others.
+
+Messieurs Murray and Chivey are the persons we mean.
+
+Those gentlemen, having taken such excellent precautions to cut off
+young Jack Harkaway's communications with the outer world, fancied
+themselves tolerably safe.
+
+Yet every now and then Murray's nerves were shaken as he thought of the
+vindictive Lenoir.
+
+What had become of that dangerous individual?
+
+The police had gone to the spot where Murray told them he had left the
+coiner senseless, and there they certainly found traces of a severe
+struggle, but Lenoir had disappeared.
+
+The peasant also had done his duty as a French citizen by reporting the
+affair to the first gendarme he met on his road.
+
+But though Marseilles was thoroughly searched, no trace of the man
+could be found, either in the town or the surrounding rural districts.
+
+"There's one consolation, guv'nor," observed Chivey, "he won't dare
+show his ugly mug in Marseilles any more, so you're safe enough here."
+
+"He's desperate enough for any thing."
+
+"It's galleys for life if he's collared, and he knows it well enough."
+
+"Galleys!--ugh!"
+
+And Herbert Murray gave a convulsive shudder, in which he was
+sympathetically joined by Chivey.
+
+"Ain't it 'orrid to see them poor devils chained to the oars, and the
+hoverseer a walkin' up and down with his whip, a-lashin' 'em?" said
+Chivey.
+
+"'Tis, indeed."
+
+Murray again paused and shuddered, but after a moment, he continued--
+
+"But it would be jolly, though, to see Harkaway and his friends at it."
+
+"Crikey! and wouldn't I jest like to see that old beast of a Mole
+pulling away on his stumps. D'ye think they'll all get it?" asked
+Chivey.
+
+"Yes, unless they manage to communicate with their friends or the
+consul."
+
+"Then I had better just stroll up and see if our old pal the gaoler has
+stopped any more letters."
+
+"Yes, go by all means, for if we don't call for them, he's likely
+enough to give them up to----"
+
+Murray hesitated, but Chivey instantly supplied the word.
+
+"The rightful owners, you mean, guv'nor."
+
+"Cut away!" sharply exclaimed Murray, who was annoyed at the liberties
+taken by his quondam servant.
+
+Chivey strolled up towards the prison, and was just in time to meet the
+gaoler coming out.
+
+"Mornin', mossoo," he said, with a familiar nod, "rather warm, ain't
+it? What d'ye say to a bottle of wine jest to wash the dust out o' yer
+throat?"
+
+The Frenchman did not comprehend a fourth part of this speech, but he
+understood that he was to partake of a bottle of wine, and at once
+signified his willingness.
+
+"Vid moosh plaisir, m'sieu."
+
+And he led the way to a cabaret where they sold his favourite wine.
+
+"Now have you got any letters for me?" said Chivey, when they were
+comfortably seated at a table, remote from the few other customers, who
+were engaged in a very noisy game of dominoes.
+
+"No understand," said the man, shaking his head.
+
+"Any letters--billy duxes?"
+
+The man made a gesture to indicate that he did not understand.
+
+"Thick-headed old idiot," muttered Chivey; then calling in pantomime to
+aid his lack of French, he produced the first letter Jack had written
+to the consul.
+
+"Letter, like this."
+
+The gaoler's eyes twinkled; he nodded and half drew from the
+breast-pocket of his uniform the very document Chivey was so anxious to
+get hold of.
+
+"Hand it over, old pal," he said, holding out his hand.
+
+The gaoler smiled as he again concealed the letter.
+
+Then he in turn held out his hand, and made signs that he required
+something to be dropped into it.
+
+"Old cormorant wants more palm oil," muttered Chivey, and most
+reluctantly he drew from his pocket one of the gold pieces Herbert
+Murray had given him for the purpose of bribing the gaoler.
+
+But the Frenchman shook his head.
+
+"Two; I cannot part with the letter under two," he said, in much better
+English than he had hitherto spoken.
+
+"Well, I'm blest! Why couldn't you speak like that before? We'd have
+come to business much sooner."
+
+"I thought Monsieur would like to exhibit his extensive knowledge of
+the French tongue, but here is the letter."
+
+"And here's the coin. I will buy as many as you can get at the same
+figure."
+
+"You shall certainly have the first chance."
+
+Chivey helped himself to another glass, and asked--
+
+"When is the trial to be?"
+
+"The judge, unfortunately, has been taken ill, and the prisoners will
+have to wait about three weeks for an opportunity of proving their
+innocence."
+
+"That's unfortunate. What do you think they'll get?"
+
+"If found guilty, twenty years at the galleys."
+
+"What, old wooden legs and all?"
+
+"The gentleman who has lost his limbs will be probably sent to some
+other employment."
+
+"What a pity. Well, good-bye, old cock; keep your weather-eye open."
+
+"_Au revoir, monsieur._"
+
+Cocking his hat very much on one side, Chivey stalked out of the place.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CI.
+
+HOW THE PURLOINED LETTER WAS LOST--AND WHO FOUND IT.
+
+
+"That 'ere frog-eating swine gets two quid for bonin' the letter, so I
+think I'm entitled to one. Can't let all the coin go into old Frenchy's
+pocket."
+
+Thus Chivey muttered to himself as he neared the place where he and
+Herbert Murray were staying.
+
+Chivey evidently intended putting the screw on Herbert.
+
+"Look here, guv'nor," said he, as he entered the room; "I ain't much of
+a reading cove, but I see once a book called Jessop's fables."
+
+"AEsop's fables, I presume you mean, Chivey?"
+
+"It's all the same. But there's a yarn about a monkey what made the cat
+pull chestnuts out of the fire; and I'm jiggered if I'm going to play
+the cat."
+
+"I am not aware that anyone wishes you to do so," responded Murray, in
+his blandest manner.
+
+"Well, you are a-trying it on, at any rate."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Why, supposing it's found out about our stopping these here letters?"
+
+"Which letters, Chivey?"
+
+"The one I've got in my pocket, and----"
+
+"Oh, you've got one, then. Hand it over, please, Chivey."
+
+"Not so fast, guv'nor. You jest listen to what I've got to say first?"
+
+"I am all attention."
+
+"Well, supposing this game was found out, who do you think would get
+into trouble?"
+
+"Why, you would, undoubtedly; and your friend the French gaoler."
+
+"And don't you think it's worth your while to come down very handsome,
+considering the risk I run."
+
+"It does not strike me in that light; but I do think it would be a good
+plan for you to get rid of the stolen letter as soon as possible; for
+if any thing is found out, and the gaoler says he gave you the letters,
+it is not likely that his word--the word of a man who acknowledges
+himself a thief--will be taken against yours, unless the documents are
+found in your possession."
+
+"That's all very well."
+
+"Then if it's all very well, just hand over the letter."
+
+And Murray held out his hand.
+
+Chivey, very reluctantly, passed over the letter, muttering as he did
+so--
+
+"Well, I'm blest if I don't think you would whistle a blackbird off the
+nest while you stole the eggs."
+
+Herbert Murray took no notice of this speech; he was too deeply
+engrossed with the letter which he found read as follows--
+
+    "To Her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Marseilles:
+
+    "SIR,--I have already addressed several letters to you on the
+    subject of the incarceration of myself and friends in the prison of
+    Marseilles, on a charge of counterfeit coining. I also explained
+    how we were led, by the artful devices of a person calling himself
+    Markby, to be actually in the coiner's house when the police
+    entered it, and, therefore, appearances are certainly against us.
+    To all those letters you have made no reply, which I think is
+    certainly hard, and not quite right, as I imagine the duty of a
+    British consul includes looking after the interests of British
+    subjects in the town or district he is stationed at.
+
+    "Now, sir, in my former letters I requested you to communicate with
+    the bankers in this town, and also with my father, whose address I
+    give below, and who placed money in their hands for my use. If you
+    will do so, you will see that all the statements in my former
+    letters are correct; but if you do not, a number of British
+    subjects will probably be condemned and heavily sentenced, entirely
+    through your neglect.
+
+    "Therefore, I beg of you at once to communicate with those who can
+    identify me and my friends, and in the meantime to use your
+    influence to postpone the trial till that communication can be
+    effected.
+
+    "Your obedient servant,
+
+    "J. HARKAWAY, JUNR."
+
+"My eye!" said Chivey, when Murray had read the letter aloud, "ain't he
+getting his back up?"
+
+"No matter. They are all of them safe enough, and if they get out, I'll
+forgive them."
+
+"But they won't forgive you."
+
+"Perhaps not; but ring the bell, Chivey. We'll have some wine after
+this, and just hand over the cigar box."
+
+The ex-groom gave a tug at the bell-rope and ordered wine.
+
+Then he took up a cigar-box and, giving it a vigorous shake,
+ejaculated--
+
+"There ain't a blessed smoke in it, guv'nor."
+
+"Well, I'll just put on my hat and stroll up to the shop of Monsieur
+Cretineau-Joly and order a fresh stock. I must have a few minutes'
+exercise before it gets dark; shan't be ten minutes."
+
+Herbert left the apartment, while Chivey muttered--
+
+"He's afraid of meeting that Lenoir if he goes out after dark."
+
+And Chivey was quite right.
+
+Herbert Murray walked briskly up the street till he reached the
+tobacconist's, where he paused a moment, to look at the numerous
+varieties of the nicotian herb displayed in the window, along with
+pipes and cigar tubes of every shape and pattern.
+
+As he looked, several others looked, and one of the lookers, while
+removing his pipe, was so unfortunate as to allow some of the tobacco
+ash to blow in Murray's face.
+
+"Curse you, for an awkward Frenchman," growled Murray, while the other
+politely apologised for the mishap.
+
+Herbert coughed, and sneezed, and drew out his handkerchief to wipe his
+face; but neither he nor anyone else noticed at the same time he drew
+out young Jack Harkaway's letter, which fluttered slowly to the
+pavement, where it lay with the address downwards.
+
+Murray bought his box of cigars, and returned to the hotel where he
+resided, but still the letter lay unheeded beneath the tobacco shop
+window, till darkness had settled over the town of Marseilles except
+where street lamps and shop lights pierced the gloom.
+
+Then there came up to the shop an old man, who apparently had been a
+soldier, as he dragged one leg very stiffly, and had his left arm in a
+sling.
+
+But although his hair was white, his carriage was upright and martial.
+
+He looked in at the door, then entered, and purchased some tobacco,
+after which he stood outside and filled his pipe.
+
+"I might have taken a light inside," he muttered, when that operation
+was finished, and seeing a scrap of paper on the pavement, he picked it
+up, to use as a pipe-light.
+
+But the writing on the outside caught his eye.
+
+"A letter to the British consul!" the old man ejaculated. "It may be
+worth a franc or two, if I restore it to his excellency."
+
+So he thrust it into his pocket, obtained a light, and hobbled away in
+the direction of the consulate.
+
+But presently he paused in a retired spot, where only a single lamp
+illumined the surrounding houses.
+
+"I wonder what the letter is about," he said; "I can make a better
+bargain, perhaps, if I know the contents."
+
+And without more ado, the man pulled out the letter, and read it
+carefully.
+
+Although it was written in English, the old French soldier seemed to
+understand it thoroughly.
+
+"That cursed villain's name again," he hissed, through his teeth, when
+he had read a few lines. "But I'll pay him yet."
+
+Then he continued the perusal, steadily, till he came to the end.
+
+"It looks like truth," he said, as he returned it to his pocket. "I
+will restore it to the consul. Ha, ha! it will be sport indeed if I,
+Pierre Lenoir, the proscribed criminal, can defeat the schemes of that
+villain."
+
+With a subdued chuckle the coiner departed on his way, revelling with
+delight at the thought that he would yet be avenged on his perfidious
+friend.
+
+He reached the consul's residence, knocked, and was admitted by the
+same servant who had formerly opened the door to Chivey.
+
+"Is his Excellency the Consul at home?"
+
+"Yes, but very much engaged," replied the flunkey.
+
+"I do not particularly wish to see him, but I have found this letter in
+the street, and it may be something of importance."
+
+"Right, my good feller; 'ere's a franc for you."
+
+And the door was closed on Lenoir, who hastened away.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Two hours later the governor of the gaol and the consul were engaged in
+an important conversation.
+
+But their plans must, for the present, remain a secret, nor did Jack
+and his imprisoned friends know that their last letter had produced a
+better effect than the first.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CII.
+
+A SORROWFUL HOUSEHOLD--NEWS AT LAST.
+
+
+Change we the scene to England, and to that particular part of the
+island where old Jack and his friends were living.
+
+Though surrounded by every luxury that money could procure, they were
+not happy.
+
+"No news yet!" was the first question that Mrs. Harkaway would ask her
+husband in the morning, and he with a shake of the head, would
+respond--
+
+"None yet, my dear; but do not despond."
+
+But the fond mother vainly endeavoured to hope against hope.
+
+Little Emily, too, went about in a most listless, melancholy manner,
+wondering why it was that Jack did not write, and Paquita, too, was
+quite despondent at not hearing any thing of Harry Girdwood.
+
+Dick Harvey did all he could to cheer up everybody, but it was a hard
+task, for he was working against his own convictions, which were that
+the youngsters had got into some trouble from which they were unable to
+extricate themselves.
+
+Letters had been written to young Jack at Marseilles, but these had
+never reached him, having fallen into the hands of Herbert Murray, who
+had applied at the post office, in the name of Harkaway, for them.
+
+Paquita and little Emily, though still firm friends, were not in each
+other's society so much as formerly, as they both preferred to endure
+their sorrows in solitude.
+
+Paquita, in particular, was fond of a sequestered nook in the grounds,
+where, half hidden by shrubs, she could command a view of the long
+straight road leading from the nearest railway station.
+
+She had a notion that she would be the first one to see the absentees,
+and had chosen that as a place of observation, where she would sit for
+hours watching and trying to hope.
+
+Harvey found out her retreat, and employed the photographer who took
+Emily's portrait, to give a good likeness of the southern beauty.
+
+Paquita knew nothing of this, so absorbed was she in her own
+meditations, till a few days afterwards Uncle Dick, as she had learnt
+to call him, gave her some copies of it.
+
+She thanked him, and, hurrying off to her own room, enclosed one in an
+envelope, which she addressed to Harry. There was no letter with it,
+but underneath the portrait she wrote--
+
+    "_With Paquita's dearest love. As she waits for one who comes
+    not._"
+
+This she posted herself, registering it for extra safety.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Still came no tidings, as day after day passed, till one morning the
+postman brought a large official-looking letter, addressed in a strange
+handwriting, and bearing foreign post-marks.
+
+Despite all his hardihood, Harkaway's hand trembled as he took it up,
+and, eager as he was for news, it was some seconds before he could
+nerve himself to break the seal.
+
+His wife sat watching with breathless expectation, feeling convinced
+that at length there was news.
+
+"Are they safe?" she asked, when she had followed her husband's eye to
+the conclusion of the lengthy epistle.
+
+"They _are_ safe, for the _present_."
+
+"Thank Heaven!" she exclaimed, giving way to woman's great
+relief--tears.
+
+"But _where_ are they?" she continued a minute afterwards.
+
+"At Marseilles, where they have been for some time, so the British
+consul tells me, and where they are likely to be till we go to release
+them."
+
+"Release them! What do you mean? Don't keep back anything from me, dear
+husband."
+
+"Well, if you must know the worst, they are in prison, on a charge of
+coining."
+
+"What an infamous charge to make against them?" exclaimed a couple of
+indignant feminine voices, belonging to little Emily and Paquita, who
+had just come into the room.
+
+"Husband, you don't believe our boy to be guilty of such a crime?"
+
+"No; but----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Appearances are very much against them, the consul says. The great
+thing is to establish their identity, as the boy is supposed to have
+assumed the name he bears."
+
+At this moment Harvey appeared, and the news was instantly imparted to
+him.
+
+"It is a very serious affair, and it is certain we must go at once. But
+really it is ridiculous to fancy old Mole and those black rascals
+accused of coining."
+
+"It will not be ridiculous, if they are condemned and sent to the
+galleys, pa," said little Emily.
+
+"True, little girl, therefore we will see about starting at once. You
+see about packing my things, while I run up to town to get passports
+for the lot of us."
+
+"Passports are not required for travelling," said Emily.
+
+"Certainly not for travelling; but what can establish our identity
+better than passports signed by the British Secretary of State for
+foreign affairs?"
+
+There was no answering this question; so Dick started off for London,
+while the rest busied themselves with preparations for a continental
+trip.
+
+Within forty-eight hours they were crossing the Channel; six hours
+later they had entered Paris, where they took a brief rest, and then
+continued their journey towards Marseilles.
+
+For just as they were starting Harkaway received a telegram from the
+consul at Marseilles--
+
+"Come as soon as you possibly can, or you may be too late."
+
+Need it be said that, after such a message, they lost no time in
+speeding to their destination?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CIII.
+
+MONSIEUR HOCQUART CLERMONT DELAMARRE--THE COINER AT HOME.
+
+
+But what had the consul and the governor of the gaol been doing all
+this time?
+
+When the consul first called upon the governor of the gaol, that
+official tried to laugh off the matter.
+
+"Surely," said the governor, "you don't believe the tale these young
+fellows tell?"
+
+"I am more than half inclined to do so, if only from the fact that the
+writer of this appears to have written several other letters which have
+miscarried. But why, may I ask, was I not informed that some of my
+countrymen had been arrested?"
+
+"Well, my dear sir, their story seemed to me so absurd, that I did not
+think it worth while to trouble you."
+
+"But they asked to see me."
+
+"True."
+
+"And I fear as you did not forward their request, I shall be obliged to
+mention your name, to our ambassador in Paris."
+
+"For Heaven's sake do not! If such a thing were known to the minister
+of justice, I should lose my situation at once."
+
+"Then if I am silent on this matter, you must render me every
+assistance in finding out the truth about these prisoners."
+
+"Willingly. What can I do?"
+
+"I should like to see the youth who calls himself Harkaway; but first
+of all, where is the gaoler who usually has charge of these prisoners?"
+
+"Gone to his home, monsieur. The ordinary officials are, as you are
+doubtless aware, replaced by a military guard, between sunset and
+sunrise."
+
+"Good, then oblige me by bringing him here."
+
+So young Jack was brought into the presence of the consul, who closely
+questioned him as to what he had been doing in Marseilles.
+
+He told the truth, and, in spite of the severe cross-examination by the
+governor and the consul, stuck to his tale.
+
+"Humph!" said the consul. "You are consistent, at all events. Well, for
+the present, you may return to your cell, but don't tell even your
+friends that you have seen the British consul."
+
+"I won't mention it, sir."
+
+And Jack returned to his cell, escorted by the governor himself, as the
+consul did not wish anyone to know of the interview.
+
+But when the governor returned, the consul said--
+
+"Now, Monsieur Hocquart Delamarre, what do you think of the affair?"
+
+The governor did not reply, but there quietly glided from behind a
+screen, which probably had concealed him during the interview, a man of
+middle age and height, with nothing at all striking in his appearance.
+
+He might have passed for a clerk, a second-rate shopkeeper, or a
+superior artisan; anyone passing him in the street would have taken no
+notice whatever of such an everyday kind of a man.
+
+Yet, after all, a very close observer would have noticed something very
+peculiar about him. His eyes!
+
+One moment they seemed to pierce the inmost recesses of your very soul,
+yet when you tried, through them, to find a clue to their owner's
+thoughts, you were utterly defeated, for they became misty and
+expressionless.
+
+"What do I think of the affair, monsieur?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, so early in the case, it is difficult to pronounce a decided
+opinion," said Delamarre.
+
+"That is very true, Monsieur Delamarre," said the consul.
+
+"But as your excellency has sought my professional assistance in this
+case, I feel my reputation is at stake, and shall exert myself to the
+utmost."
+
+"Monsieur Delamarre is one of the cleverest gentlemen we have in this
+line of business," said the governor.
+
+The middle-aged gentleman bowed.
+
+"You are kind enough to say so, sir."
+
+"You have made a good selection, Monsieur le Consul. In the detective
+police Monsieur Delamarre has few equals."
+
+Again the detective bowed, and addressing the consul, said--
+
+"When shall I next have the honour of waiting on you again, monsieur?"
+
+"As soon as you have learned any thing you think of sufficient
+importance to tell me."
+
+"At the consulate, of course?"
+
+"Will it be safe for you to be seen there?"
+
+"Monsieur, I stake my professional reputation that, when I call on you,
+you shall not recognise me till I choose to reveal myself. There is an
+extremely artful person mixed up in this affair, but I shall prove
+still more artful than any of them; take the word of Hocquart Clermont
+Delamarre."
+
+With another bow the French detective made his exit.
+
+He proceeded in the first place to his own temporary residence, where
+he made a considerable alteration in his personal appearance.
+
+Then making straight for the quarter of the city mostly inhabited by
+the respectable working classes, he made a friendly call on Pierre
+Lenoir the coiner, who, as it will be remembered, the police had been
+unable to trace since his encounter with Herbert Murray and the
+waggoner.
+
+A friendly call we have termed it, and so it seemed at first, for the
+detective and the criminal shook hands in the most friendly manner.
+
+"Hullo, friend Clermont," exclaimed Lenoir, "what brings you from
+Paris!"
+
+"Why, it was too hot for me there."
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"And you, too," continued the detective. "I have heard your name
+mentioned very much of late. How did that affair happen?"
+
+Pierre Lenoir told his friend, whom of course he did not know as a
+detective, but merely as an associate with coiners and such like
+people, how he had been tricked by Markby.
+
+"But I'll have his life, though."
+
+"Doubtless. It will be a bad day for him when he falls into your
+hands."
+
+Lenoir growled a fierce oath.
+
+"He has escaped me for the present, but if I wait for years, I will
+have my revenge. Pierre Lenoir never forgives."
+
+Unheedful of the coiner's anger, the detective stroked his moustache,
+and continued--
+
+"But how about the prisoners up at the gaol yonder?"
+
+"They are innocent."
+
+"Innocent!"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Then why are they in prison?"
+
+"Because the only persons who can clear them are Markby and myself."
+
+"Ah, I see!"
+
+"And Markby for some reason or other won't clear them."
+
+"Some old grudge, I suppose."
+
+"Yes. However, they are innocent; when I tried them, they flatly
+refused to have anything to do with the game."
+
+"Well, they are in a nice fix; but how did you manage to escape after
+that little affair with Markby and the peasant?'"
+
+"Crawled into a bush as near as possible to the scene of the fight."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"If I had gone half a mile away, the police would no doubt have found
+me, but the thick-headed rascals never thought of looking only half a
+dozen yards off. Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+The detective smiled grimly.
+
+"They are thick-headed rascals."
+
+And after a pause occupied in listening to sounds in the street, he
+repeated--
+
+"And the English prisoners are entirely innocent then?"
+
+"Entirely."
+
+"Now listen to me, Pierre Lenoir," continued the detective, rapping the
+table smartly as though to command attention. "But what a curious echo
+you have in this old room."
+
+"I had not noticed it; but to continue."
+
+"These English refused to have any thing to do with your business, you
+say?"
+
+"Yes; and showed fight when I would have used force to detain them."
+
+"Then if the judge knows that, the young fellows will be released?"
+
+"Yes; but, my dear friend, it is not likely I shall go to the court to
+give evidence in their favour."
+
+"You will."
+
+"Nonsense."
+
+"I shall take you there."
+
+There was something in his visitor's manner that made Lenoir first
+start from his seat and make a hasty movement towards the table.
+
+But he recoiled when Hocquart Clermont Delamarre thrust a revolver in
+his face and exclaimed--
+
+"If you make another movement towards that drawer where your pistols
+are, I will send a bullet through you. Keep your hands down by your
+side."
+
+"What in the fiend's name does this mean?" gasped the coiner.
+
+"It means that you are my prisoner."
+
+"Prisoner."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then who are you?"
+
+"You have known me as Clermont, but my real name is Delamarre."
+
+"The detective?"
+
+"The same."
+
+The coiner gave a hasty look round the apartment, and then made a step
+towards the door.
+
+But it instantly opened, and there appeared a police officer in
+uniform, who said--
+
+"If you attempt to pass this door, you are a dead man."
+
+The window!
+
+It was not very high above the roadway, and one bold leap might yet
+bring liberty.
+
+But, as if reading his very thoughts, Delamarre gave one of those
+peculiar raps on the table, which was again echoed from without, and
+instantly the figure of a policeman armed with a revolver was seen
+filling the casement.
+
+The chimney!
+
+That he knew was crossed by strong bars. No exit that way.
+
+"Sit down, Pierre Lenoir."
+
+The detective was provokingly cool, and the coiner gnashed his teeth
+with rage.
+
+"Sit down, man; why, you ought to feel proud at being taken so neatly."
+
+"Curse you!"
+
+"Never mind. I have the finest and easiest pair of wristbands any
+gentleman in your line of business ever wore. Let me try them on."
+
+Lenoir for a moment contemplated resistance, but two revolvers were
+close to his head, so second thoughts prevailed.
+
+He was firmly handcuffed.
+
+"Now, Pierre," said the detective, "listen to me, and I will quickly
+prove that I am a far better friend than you think me."
+
+The coiner smiled a bitter smile.
+
+"Of course it doesn't look so; but listen."
+
+"I am compelled to," replied Lenoir.
+
+"You can clear these English prisoners."
+
+"If I choose to speak."
+
+"If you choose to speak, the English consul will exert all his
+influence to procure a mitigation of your sentence--whatever it may
+be."
+
+Lenoir nodded.
+
+"But if you do not, why, the whole force of the British Embassy will be
+exerted against you; so I fancy your choice will soon be made."
+
+Lenoir sat silent for some minutes.
+
+"Have you made up your mind?" asked the detective at length.
+
+"I don't see why I should speak; they belong to the same cursed country
+as that Markby."
+
+"Well, don't you see how nicely things come round? You clear the
+prisoners, and by so doing incriminate Markby, _alias_ Murray."
+
+"Aye; but where is he?"
+
+"In Marseilles. I am only waiting for a little more evidence before I
+lay my hands on him. He is a slippery customer, and it won't do to
+arrest him until the case is complete."
+
+"Then, curse him, I'll tell all--nay, more, if you look in that drawer,
+where the pistols are, you know, you will find a note from him to me.
+That will be quite as good evidence as my word."
+
+"Good, Lenoir. I can't promise you a free pardon, but I fancy you will
+get off lightly."
+
+"I hope I may be sent to the same galley as Murray, _alias_ Markby, has
+to serve; and if I am only chained to the same oar I shall be happy."
+
+"Why."
+
+"I will find an early opportunity, and then I will kill him."
+
+"No, Lenoir; that will not be the way to shorten your sentence."
+
+"I'll kill him."
+
+"No; lead him a life of misery and dread while he is chained to the
+oar. What you do when you are both released is a matter I have no
+present concern with."
+
+"March, then; let us be going."
+
+And the coiner walked gaily away, his anger at being captured having
+been replaced by joy, at the hopes of avenging himself on the
+treacherous Markby, _alias_ Murray.
+
+Hocquart Clermont Delamarre himself walked arm-in-arm with the coiner,
+and the good people of Marseilles knew not that he had been taken.
+
+Even in the gaol he was entered under an assumed name.
+
+The gaoler, who had been in attendance on the English party, could not
+understand why his prisoners wrote no more letters to the English
+consul or their relatives in England, and Herbert Murray almost
+suspected the truth when he chanced, the day after losing the letter,
+to look for it.
+
+But Chivey reassured him.
+
+"I went all over your clothes and my own this morning afore you was up,
+guv'nor, and burnt every one of the letters I could find."
+
+"What for?" demanded Murray.
+
+"In case of accidents. It would not do us any good to have them things
+found on us; and nobody ever knows what is going to turn up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CIV.
+
+THE ESCORT--THE TRIAL.
+
+
+"Marseilles at last!" exclaimed Dick Harvey, as the train came to a
+standstill.
+
+"I thought we were never to end our journey," said little Emily.
+
+However, they quickly got clear of the railway station, engaged
+apartments at an hotel, and then, without waiting to eat or drink, made
+their way towards the gaol.
+
+"I wonder what house that is with the Union Jack flying over it," said
+Mrs. Harkaway, as they passed along a street near the harbour.
+
+"The British consulate very likely," said her husband "We had better
+call there."
+
+But the consul was not at home.
+
+"Do you know where he is gone?" asked Harvey of the servant.
+
+"Why, sir, there are some Englishmen to be tried to-day for coining,
+and he is gone to watch the case."
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"Yes, sir; in fact, the trial will commence in ten minutes," replied
+the man, after consulting his watch.
+
+"Where does the trial take place?"
+
+"The second turning on the left, sir. The hall of justice is a large
+building just round the corner."
+
+"Come along, then," said Harkaway; "there is no time to lose."
+
+They hurried along the street at a rate that made the French people
+stare.
+
+Paquita was the first of the party to turn the corner, and she had no
+sooner done so than she exclaimed--
+
+"There they are."
+
+And running between a file of soldiers, threw her arms round Harry
+Girdwood's neck.
+
+Little Emily would have followed her example, but the officer in charge
+of the escort would not permit any such irregular conduct, and Paquita
+was compelled to rejoin her friends.
+
+"Hurrah, dad!" exclaimed young Jack; "I knew you would turn up in time.
+And, mamma, how pale you are looking."
+
+"Can you wonder at it, my boy, considering the anxiety we have all
+suffered?"
+
+"Mr. Mole, Mr. Mole," exclaimed Dick Harvey, shaking his head, "I am
+surprised indeed to hear that you have taken to counterfeit coining."
+
+"Harvey, this is really no joking matter," replied Mole.
+
+"No, it will be no joke when you are chained to the oar in one of those
+galleys down in the harbour."
+
+"Stand back, ladies and gentlemen, if you please," exclaimed the
+officer commanding the escort. "I cannot allow any communication with
+my prisoners."
+
+So they were obliged to keep at a distance.
+
+At that moment a portly, elderly gentleman, who had been watching the
+scene, came up, saying--
+
+"Have I the honour of addressing Mr. Harkaway?"
+
+"That is my name, sir."
+
+"I am the English consul."
+
+Our old hero at once seized him by the hand, saying--
+
+"Sir, words are powerless to express how grateful I am for your
+interference on behalf of my boy."
+
+"Don't mention it, sir, I only did as I am instructed to do in all such
+cases."
+
+"But about the trial; what chance does that young scapegrace stand?"
+
+"There is very little doubt that he will be acquitted, as we have the
+best of evidence in his favour. But come along, sir, let us get into
+court."
+
+The consul led the way into the hall of justice, and placed the
+Harkaway party among the audience in such a position that they could
+see all that was going on, without being conspicuous themselves.
+
+Then they waited patiently till the judge arrived.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+While our young hero's father and friends were thus entering
+Marseilles, two people were trying to leave that city.
+
+These were Herbert Murray and his friend Chivey.
+
+"There ain't no use in stoppin' 'ere, guv'nor," the latter had said.
+"We can see by the papers what they gets."
+
+"You are right, Chivey; we will get away for a time."
+
+"We can come back an' see 'em when they are fairly fixed, you know."
+
+"Well, pack up, and we'll just take a trip to Paris for a week."
+
+Their portmanteaus were quickly got ready, and a vehicle was engaged to
+take them to the railway station.
+
+But when they alighted, and were about to take their tickets, a very
+polite police officer tapped Murray on the shoulder, and said--
+
+"I much regret to have to ask monsieur to postpone his journey."
+
+"What?"
+
+"I must request Monsieur to defer his visit to Paris till after the
+trial of the English coiners."
+
+"What has that to do with me?"
+
+"The judge may desire your presence, monsieur; he may wish to hear your
+evidence."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"It may be; but I am compelled to say that I cannot permit you to leave
+Marseilles to-day, and I must request you to accompany me back to the
+hall of justice."
+
+"We are prisoners, then?"
+
+"By no means. Only the law requires your presence, and the law, you
+know, must be obeyed, monsieur?"
+
+Chivey had not taken part in the conversation, but had been looking
+round for a good chance of escaping.
+
+"You, of course, will accompany your friend?" said the detective,
+tapping him on the shoulder.
+
+"Must, I suppose," responded Chivey, who noticed several other
+policeman were loitering about the station.
+
+So, with a very bad grace, the two intending excursionists walked back
+to the hall of justice.
+
+The English prisoners had already been brought into the hall, and the
+trial had commenced.
+
+It certainly seemed at first that our young hero had got himself into a
+bad fix, for the evidence was much against him.
+
+The police had captured them in Lenoir's workshop.
+
+They had been seen in conversation with him not only there, but at the
+cafe the police had been warned of their nefarious doings and so forth.
+
+"Have you any witnesses to call, prisoner?" ask the judge, addressing
+young Jack.
+
+"Yes, Monsieur le Juge; and the first of them is Pierre Lenoir. Let him
+be called."
+
+"What folly is this?" demanded the judge, sternly.
+
+"I ask that Pierre Lenoir shall be summoned to give evidence," repeated
+young Jack, who had been told by Delamarre what line of defence to
+adopt.
+
+"Do you think he will respond if called?"
+
+"If he does not respond, I shall derive no benefit from his evidence."
+
+"Let Pierre Lenoir be called," said the judge, rather angrily.
+
+And Pierre Lenoir was called by an officer of the court.
+
+"Here!"
+
+The answer was clear and distinct.
+
+And the next moment Pierre Lenoir, escorted by two gensdarmes, marched
+into the court-room.
+
+Chivey touched Murray on the arm, and both had an idea of sneaking
+away.
+
+But the polite and attentive officer who had brought them back from the
+railway, stood in the doorway, and was evidently watching them.
+
+In fact, he spoke to them.
+
+"Things are getting interesting, gentlemen," said he; "it was worth
+losing a train to see such a dramatic trial as this promises to be."
+
+"Interferes with our business, rather."
+
+"Not so much, monsieur. But hush!"
+
+The evidence of Pierre Lenoir was then taken.
+
+The public prosecutor objected at first to his evidence; but it was
+urged by the counsel for the defence that although accused of many
+offences, he was at present convicted of none, and therefore was
+entitled to full credence.
+
+"Your name is Pierre Lenoir?" asked Jack's counsel.
+
+"It is."
+
+"Do you know the prisoners?"
+
+"But slightly."
+
+"Say when you met them."
+
+"I met them at my own house where they came by invitation to see some
+specimens of my skill as a medal engraver."
+
+"Did those Englishmen assist you in any way to pass counterfeit coin?"
+
+"Neither of those Englishmen; but that man did."
+
+And turning half round, he pointed at the wretched Murray, _alias_
+Markby.
+
+And at the same time the affable police officer drew nearer, smiling
+more blandly than ever.
+
+"'Tis false!" shrieked the wretched Murray.
+
+"The public must maintain silence in the court," said the judge.
+
+"It's a base lie!" exclaimed Murray.
+
+"The officer of the court will arrest the disorderly person."
+
+The smiling gendarme at once swooped down on his prey.
+
+"That man," continued Lenoir, "not only passed bad money for me, but he
+persuaded me that the prisoners would do so also. But when I introduced
+myself and tried to get them to join me, they absolutely refused."
+
+The public prosecutor tried in vain to shake his story, but he
+positively adhered to every word he had spoken.
+
+Then Harkaway senior was called upon, and he in conjunction with the
+banker proved that there was no need whatever for the prisoners to
+commit such an offence, as by simply signing his name young Jack could
+draw far more francs than the judge's yearly salary amounted to.
+
+The counsel for the defence then challenged the prosecution to produce
+any evidence that the prisoners had passed bad money, and the public
+prosecutor was obliged to confess that he could not do so.
+
+Whereupon the judge remarked that the prosecution had utterly failed,
+and directed the prisoners to be discharged.
+
+But Lenoir and Murray were directed to be kept in separate cells till
+they could be tried, and Chivey was ordered like accommodation.
+
+And having now plenty of time for reflection, Herbert Murray sat with
+irons on his arms and legs, thinking dolefully over the past, and
+thinking whether, after all, honesty would not have proved the best
+policy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CV.
+
+A LAST VIEW OF MURRAY AND CHIVEY.
+
+
+"Hurrah, dad!"
+
+"Hurrah, my boy! Now, then, one and all. Hip, hip, hip----"
+
+"Hurrah!"
+
+The peal that burst from the throats of the reunited English party
+fairly astonished the assembled crowd of citizens who were flocking out
+of the hall of justice.
+
+And then such a shaking of hands and kissing!
+
+The latter form of insanity at length became infectious, and the two
+black imps Tinker and Bogey insisted on pressing a chaste salute on Mr.
+Mole's coy lips, to the intense amusement of the bystanders.
+
+"Get out, you black devils!" exclaimed he.
+
+"Why, Massa Mole, we been good friends dis long time in dat 'ere ole
+prison; you isn't a-gwine to turn round on de poor niggahs now we's got
+out."
+
+"Get away. Never mind, don't get away; I'm not proud--hurrah!"
+
+In his excitement Mr. Mole threw his battered hat a great height into
+the air, but slipping while so doing, he sat down upon the pavement
+rather violently.
+
+"_Sac-r-r-r-re!_ seize that old villain!"
+
+The indignant command came from a mounted officer in charge of a
+considerable body of soldiers.
+
+While directing the movements of his men, drawn sword in hand, down
+came Mole's _chapeau_ on the point of the deadly weapon, which went
+through the crown, and the lining getting entangled with the hilt, it
+could not be very readily moved.
+
+And, of course, the French spectators at once began laughing to see the
+rather absurd situation of the officer.
+
+Mole would certainly have been dragged off again had not the British
+consul once more interposed.
+
+"Monsieur le Colonel, I hasten to assure you that it was an accident,"
+he said.
+
+"I will not be insulted by accident; arrest him!"
+
+"But consider, sir, you have no crime to urge against him."
+
+"Bah, what care I?"
+
+"He will apologise."
+
+"Of course he will," said Harvey, thinking it time to interpose. "Here,
+where are you, Mr. Mole?"
+
+"Down here, sitting on the other end of me," responded the ex-tutor in
+very doleful accents.
+
+"An apology!" said the excited officer, who had dismounted, and was
+brandishing his weapon as though about to sacrifice Mole.
+
+But poor Mole seemed altogether too confused to say the soothing words
+required, so the consul again interfered.
+
+"Really, Monsieur le Colonel, this poor gentleman seems to have
+sustained some severe injury. You will see he has lost both legs in a
+series of heroic actions, the particulars of which I have not time to
+give you, but accept my assurance that the affair of the hat was
+entirely an accident."
+
+"Lost legs in action! Ah, then it becomes my duty to apologise for the
+hasty language I have used to a brave soldier."
+
+As things were changing a little, Mole thought it time to become
+conscious, and with the aid of Tinker and Bogey, he struggled to his
+feet.
+
+"Monsieur," continued the officer, "I withdraw my words."
+
+"Enough said, my dear sir," responded Mole; "let the matter drop, I
+pray."
+
+The officer gave a military salute, restored the perforated hat to its
+owner, and rejoined his men.
+
+"Really imprisonment seems to have no effect on you, Mr. Mole," said
+Harvey; "you begin your old pranks the moment you are released."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Why, you pass yourself off as an old soldier."
+
+"No, it was our good friend the consul."
+
+"Well, you allowed the colonel to deceive himself."
+
+"It's all the result of my really martial aspect, my dear boy."
+
+And Mole hobbled on, trying to sustain his military appearance.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Our friends did not at once leave Marseilles.
+
+They were informed that perhaps they might be required to give evidence
+against Murray, so they took up their residence in the best hotel of
+the place and waited, the elders of the party being perfectly content
+now that the youngsters had regained their liberty.
+
+However, as events turned out, they were not called upon to attend the
+trial of the shipowner's son, as Monsieur Hocquart Clermont Delamarre
+and his assistants managed to pile up quite sufficient proof to
+convince the judge of Herbert Murray's guilt.
+
+He, Lenoir, and Chivey, who certainly was not so deeply involved as his
+master, were sentenced to serve ten years each in the galleys.
+
+Lenoir's original sentence was fifteen years, but the promised
+intercession of the consul was effectual in shortening it to ten.
+
+There was, however, another trial, at which young Jack and Harry
+Girdwood were requested to attend, and the prisoner in this case was
+the gaoler to whom they had entrusted their letters to the consul.
+
+He being clearly convicted of receiving bribes from prisoners, was
+sentenced to two years' imprisonment, and so retires from the scene.
+
+Young Jack, his parents, Harry Girdwood, Harvey, little Emily, and
+Paquita were taking a walk in the neighborhood of the harbour one
+morning, when they became aware of a very dismal-looking procession
+coming down the road from the prison.
+
+First of all came half a dozen soldiers, trailing their rifles, which
+were evidently loaded and ready for instant use.
+
+Then, in single file, about a yard behind each other, and every man
+with his right leg attached by a ring to a long chain that extended the
+entire length of the party, came ten men clad in garments of very
+coarse serge, and with closely-cropped heads.
+
+The instant he saw them in the distance, young Jack guessed what it
+meant, and pointed the gang out to the others.
+
+"Let us get away if we can," said he.
+
+"Why?" asked Harvey.
+
+"Because it will look as though we came here simply to gloat over their
+disgrace," replied Jack.
+
+"Right, my boy."
+
+But there was no way of avoiding them, as there was no turning out of
+the street, and all the house doors were closed, so they were compelled
+to see all.
+
+First of all came seven of the lowest-looking ruffians in creation,
+villains whose countenances were expressive of nothing but brutality
+and vice; the eighth was Chivey, whose cheeks bore traces of tears, and
+the ninth was Pierre Lenoir, who walked erect and proud as Lucifer,
+except when he made a half turn about as though he would like to
+strangle Herbert Murray, who walked with tottering steps at the end of
+the chain.
+
+"Poor fellows!" said Mrs. Harkaway.
+
+"They deserve it," exclaimed her husband and Harvey, simultaneously.
+"They tried to get our boys the very punishment that has overtaken
+them."
+
+Our friends, however, had seen enough, and did not care to witness what
+followed.
+
+If they had gone inside the harbour gates, they might have seen three
+or four very long sharp-bowed vessels moored to the quay or lying at
+anchor a little way out.
+
+Neither mast nor sail had these vessels, but from each side projected a
+dozen or more of gigantic oars larger than those used by Thames
+bargemen.
+
+Had they gone down to the harbour they would presently have seen
+chained up, two of them to each oar, but with their feet so far at
+liberty that they could move backwards and forwards three paces.
+
+Then they would have heard the word of command given, and would have
+seen the poor slaves tugging away at the oars till the huge craft was
+sweeping rapidly out to sea, while the galley-master walking up and
+down between the two rows of oarsmen, gave blows of his whip on the
+right hand or the left when he saw a man flagging, or an oar that did
+not swing in unison with the rest.
+
+Such was the fate to which the career of crime had brought the son of
+the once respected shipowner Murray.
+
+Slavery from morn till night, beneath a broiling sun, or exposed to
+cold, rain, and hail, the coarsest of black bread and lentil pottage,
+formed his scanty meal; his associates the lowest type of humanity.
+
+And even over and above such a hard lot there fell upon his heart the
+craven fear some day that Lenoir, who was chained to the next oar,
+would break loose and kill him.
+
+Many would have preferred death to such slavery, but Herbert Murray
+feared to die.
+
+"Hollo, Englishman, faster!" the galley-master would shout. And then
+his whip or cane would sharply visit poor Murray's shoulders.
+
+And the chuckling voice of Lenoir would be heard, exclaiming--
+
+"Ah, traitor! this is nothing to what you will suffer when I have my
+chance for revenge."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CVI.
+
+TERRIBLE RAILWAY ACCIDENT.
+
+
+Three days after Murray and Chivey embarked on their dreary voyage the
+Harkaway party quitted Marseilles.
+
+The waiter and the diver, so long young Jack's companions in adventure,
+preferred remaining at Marseilles.
+
+They had no home ties, and had so long been accustomed to a wandering
+Continental life, that they had no great desire to settle down quietly
+in England.
+
+However, Harkaway senior made them a handsome present each, and he also
+presented Monsieur Hocquart Clermont Delamarre with a very substantial
+proof of his esteem and gratitude, and the detective was further
+gratified by receiving from the two young ladies, Paquita and Emily, a
+handsomely-mounted _carte de visite_ portrait.
+
+"And now for home!" exclaimed our young hero.
+
+"You will be sorry when you get there, won't you?" said Emily.
+
+"No, dear; why should I be?"
+
+"Because in England you can't go on as you have been doing, running
+away with fair Circass----"
+
+There was nobody looking, so Jack took the liberty of cutting the
+reproach short with a kiss.
+
+"You must not say any thing more about that, dear Emily; and, after
+all, I don't think you would have approved of my leaving her to the
+mercy of those Turks."
+
+"That I should not, Jack."
+
+The youth then handed his young sweetheart into one of the vehicles in
+waiting, and off they started for the railway, where they found they
+had to wait ten minutes.
+
+To occupy the time they strolled up and down the platform.
+
+Suddenly Harry Girdwood exclaimed--
+
+"Why, where is Mr. Mole? Did he come in your carriage, Jack?"
+
+"No; I thought he was with you."
+
+"Left behind, by Jove!" exclaimed Harvey.
+
+"Serve him right if I left him behind entirely," said Harkaway senior,
+rather angrily.
+
+He was on the point of sending one of the porters back to the hotel,
+when Mr. Mole appeared.
+
+Now there were two things that had delayed him.
+
+One was that on the very morning Mr. Mole had mounted a new pair of
+artificial legs made by the very best surgical instrument maker in
+Marseilles.
+
+Some time had been taken over the proper adjustment of these.
+
+For the second reason--Mr. Mole had discovered that the hotel cellars
+contained some excellent brandy, and he had been taking a parting glass
+with the Irish diver before commencing his journey.
+
+And as he now made his appearance on the railway platform, he was any
+thing but steady on his new legs.
+
+"Better late than never, Mr. Mole," said Harvey.
+
+"I am not late."
+
+"Yes, sir. Two minutes more, and the train will be here."
+
+An engine was in fact at that moment shunting some carriages which were
+to be attached to the train.
+
+Mr. Mole turned on hearing the noise of the approaching locomotive.
+
+But being, as aforesaid, slightly unsteady on his legs, he fell.
+
+Fell right across the metals.
+
+"Oh! help!" he cried.
+
+But before anyone could stir, the engine was upon him.
+
+The porters shouted, the ladies screamed with fright.
+
+"Oh, Heaven! is it not horrible?" exclaimed a French man. "Did you not
+hear the bones crash as the wheels went over his legs?"
+
+"Over his legs," shouted Harvey. "Ha, ha! if that is all, it does not
+matter much."
+
+The engine stopped, and Mole was rescued from his perilous position.
+
+He had fainted, but a glass of water restored him.
+
+"Are you hurt, old man?" asked Dick.
+
+"No; I think not. It's only my legs, nothing else."
+
+"Great Heaven, what a narrow escape!"
+
+"So it is; but here is a nuisance, both my legs cut clean off, six
+inches above the ankle."
+
+"Here, porter, put this gentleman in a first-class carriage," said
+Harkaway senior.
+
+"But, monsieur, he must be taken to the hospital; the surgeon is close
+at hand."
+
+"Doctor be hanged! This gentleman must go to Paris by the next train."
+
+The porters, being evidently unwilling to touch Mr. Mole, Harkaway
+said--
+
+"Here, lend a hand, old man."
+
+"All right," responded Harvey.
+
+The pair of them immediately hoisted Mr. Mole into the carriage, the
+others took their seats, the engineer blew his whistle, and off they
+went.
+
+To complete the horror of the spectators, who admired Mole's fortitude,
+and loathed the apparent barbarity of his friends, as the train was
+moving off, Harvey was plainly seen to cut off the old gentleman's
+shattered limbs, and pitch them into some empty goods waggons that were
+going in another direction.
+
+"What horrid barbarians!" was the general exclamation of the bewildered
+spectators of the strange scene.
+
+"A pretty object you have made of me certainly," grumbled Mole, looking
+down at his curtailed legs.
+
+"Your own fault, Mr. Mole," responded Harvey.
+
+"Lucky it was not your head, Mr. Mole," said young Jack.
+
+"You are all against me, I see, but it does not matter."
+
+So saying, Mole took out his pocket flask and was about to refresh
+himself.
+
+But Harkaway senior, stretching out his hand, took the flask.
+
+"No, Mr. Mole; if you have any more, I fear we shall have a more
+serious accident. So not a drop till the first time we stop."
+
+"Why, this is a mail train, and only stops about every two hours."
+
+"And I am quite sure you can exist without brandy for that little
+time."
+
+"Well, I suppose I may smoke then?"
+
+"Certainly; you shall have one of my best regalias."
+
+Mr. Mole took the weed, and puffed away rather sulkily.
+
+They had got about eight miles from Marseilles when suddenly the engine
+slackened speed, and the train drew up at a little roadside station.
+
+"What does this mean?" said Harvey. "We ought not to stop here."
+
+"This is our first stopping place, however, so I'll trouble you for my
+flask, according to promise," said Mole, with a beaming countenance.
+
+Harkaway handed it over and was settling back again when he heard a
+police official asking--
+
+"Where is the gentleman who was run over at Marseilles?"
+
+"Here," said Harkaway.
+
+The gendarme ran to the spot, and to his intense surprise saw the
+victim of the accident in the act of taking a hearty drink from his
+brandy flask while his left hand held a lighted cigar.
+
+"What do you want?" demanded Mole.
+
+"The officials at Marseilles, unable to stop the train, telegraphed to
+me to see that you had proper medical attendance."
+
+"Ha, ha, ha! look here, old boy; I always carry my own physic. Taste
+it."
+
+The officer took the flask, and finding that the smell was familiar,
+applied it to his lips.
+
+"The fact is," said Harkaway, "the gentleman was wearing wooden legs,
+and they only were damaged."
+
+"Indeed; then you think that you are able to proceed on your journey,
+sir?"
+
+"Yes, if you will leave me some of my medicine."
+
+The gendarme bowed, handed back the flask, and the train rolled away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CVII.
+
+A DUEL.
+
+
+"Paris at last," exclaimed Harvey.
+
+"That's a good job, for I am tired of sitting, and want to stretch my
+legs; don't you, Mr. Mole?" said young Jack.
+
+"Don't be ridiculous, Jack," replied Mr. Mole.
+
+Harkaway senior, who had been looking out of the window, drew in his
+head and said--
+
+"Well, Mr. Mole, you are in a nice fix."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I don't see any----"
+
+"Any what?"
+
+"Any cabs."
+
+"The ----"
+
+"Don't swear."
+
+"My dear Mr. Harkaway, now if you were without legs, would not you
+swear?"
+
+"Can't say, having the proper number of pins."
+
+"You'll have to walk," said Harvey. "There's not a cab in the station."
+
+"But how can I walk?"
+
+"Don't you remember the hero in the ballad of Chevy Chase?"
+
+"Who was he?"
+
+"The song says Witherington, but we will call him Mole."
+
+    "'For Mole, indeed, my heart is woe,
+      As one in doleful dumps;
+    For when his feet were cut away,
+      He walked upon his stumps.'"
+
+By this time the train had stopped, and all the party got out, except
+Mole.
+
+As Harkaway had said, there was no vehicle in the station nor outside
+of it, so Mr. Mole was obliged to remain till his friends could hit
+upon some plan for removing him.
+
+A porter was the first to make a suggestion.
+
+"An artificial limb maker lives opposite, monsieur," said he.
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"If I carried monsieur over, he might have some--ah--substitutes fitted
+on."
+
+"A capital idea!" exclaimed Harvey; "over with him." And before Mole
+could remonstrate, he was hoisted to the porter's shoulders, and
+trotted across the street.
+
+Great was the joy of the Parisian _gamins_ at having such a sight
+provided for their amusement.
+
+Mole, however, bravely bore the chaff, half of which he did not
+understand.
+
+The maker of artificial limbs soon fitted poor Mole with a pair of
+legs.
+
+But alas!
+
+No sooner had he stood upon them than his friends burst out in a loud
+laugh.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" demanded Mr. Mole, who felt inclined to
+stand on his dignity as well as on his new legs.
+
+"Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"I wonder you don't remember what Goldsmith says," continued Mole.
+
+"What does he say, Mr. Mole?"
+
+"Don't you remember that line about 'the loud laugh that speaks the
+vacant mind.' I fear your mind must be very vacant, Mr. Harvey."
+
+"He had you there, Uncle Dick," said young Jack.
+
+"Pooh! But look at his legs."
+
+"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed young Jack in turn.
+
+Mr. Mole's trousers, it will be recollected, had been cut away below
+the knees immediately after his railway accident, and now he stood in a
+pair of nicely-varnished boots, above which could be seen the various
+springs and hinges of his mechanical limbs.
+
+The trouser legs were not longer in proportion than a small boy's
+knickerbockers.
+
+By this time, however, a cab or two had turned up, and, the ladies
+having been fetched from the railway waiting-room, the whole party
+proceeded to one of the many good hotels Paris possesses.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The third evening after their arrival, young Jack and Harry Girdwood
+strolled out together.
+
+They no doubt would have enjoyed the company of the two girls, but
+little Emily and Paquita had been roving about the town all day long,
+and were too tired to go out that evening.
+
+"What is this place, Jack?" asked Harry, as they both paused in front
+of a narrow, but brilliantly-lighted doorway.
+
+"A shooting gallery, I fancy."
+
+"Shall we go in?"
+
+"Certainly; but I don't fancy the French are very great 'shootists,' as
+the Yankees say."
+
+"All the more fun, perhaps."
+
+And without more talk, the youngsters walked in.
+
+It was a long room, divided by slight partitions into four different
+galleries, and at the end of each of these was a target in the shape of
+a doll.
+
+After watching others for a time, Harry took half a dozen shots at one
+of the figures, which he struck four times.
+
+Young Jack then tried, and was equally successful.
+
+"Good shooting, young gentlemen," said one of the spectators, an
+Englishman; "but if you want to see real pistol practice, look at this
+Frenchman."
+
+And he pointed to a tall, dark man who was just preparing to fire.
+
+The target he had before him was not a little doll like the others, but
+a full-sized lay figure dressed in black, closely buttoned up, and
+holding in its hand an empty pistol pointed towards the live shooter.
+
+"He is a noted duellist," said the Englishman, "and has killed more
+than one adversary."
+
+Jack and Harry looked at him with considerable curiosity, with which
+was mixed a tinge of loathing.
+
+The duellist had brought his own pistols, one of which he carefully
+loaded, and having placed himself in position, rapidly aimed and fired.
+
+Instantly the lay figure showed a spot of white on its black coat,
+which, after all, was only made of a kind of paste or varnish, which
+chipped off when struck by the bullet.
+
+"Straight to the heart," said the Englishman.
+
+"That's good shooting," exclaimed Harry Girdwood.
+
+The Frenchman fired again, making an equally good shot.
+
+When he had fired ten, young Jack for the first time broke silence.
+
+"I don't believe he could do that in the field with a live adversary
+and a loaded pistol opposite him."
+
+The Frenchman again pulled the trigger, but the eleventh shot flew wide
+of the mark.
+
+Almost foaming with passion at having missed his aim, he dashed the
+weapon to the ground.
+
+"I must request the gentleman who spoke to stand the test."
+
+"With great pleasure," responded Jack, coolly.
+
+The Frenchman stared at the speaker.
+
+"Bah! I don't fight with boys."
+
+"Then I shall proclaim to all Paris that you are a cur, and try to back
+out of a quarrel when your challenge is accepted."
+
+"Very well, then, you shall die in the morning. Henri,"--this to a
+friend--"arrange with the English boy's second if he has one; if he has
+not, find him one."
+
+The Englishman who had previously spoken at once stepped forward and
+offered his services.
+
+"Although," said he, "I should much prefer to see this affair settled
+peacefully."
+
+"I am entirely in your hands, sir," responded Jack.
+
+And he retired to the other side of the room.
+
+"Jack, Jack! what demon possessed you to get into such a mess?"
+
+"No demon, Harry, but some of my father's hot blood. He was always very
+prompt to accept a challenge."
+
+"He will not let you fight."
+
+"He will not know till it is settled. Listen to me, Harry, if you tell
+him or anyone else, or try to stop the plan that my second may propose,
+I swear I'll never speak to you again."
+
+"But you stand every chance of being killed."
+
+"Harry, we have both of us faced death many times, and I am sure I am
+not going to turn my back on a Frenchman."
+
+Poor Harry could say nothing more.
+
+The Englishman rejoined them.
+
+"I can't get that fellow to accept an apology----!"
+
+"That's right," interposed Jack.
+
+His second looked surprised at the youth's coolness, and continued--
+
+"So I must parade you in the Bois de Boulogne at sunrise. It's about an
+hour's drive."
+
+"Where shall we meet you?"
+
+The second hesitated, and then named a time and place.
+
+"Now," said Jack, "I will go and have a little sleep; not at home, but
+somewhere in this neighbourhood."
+
+They went to a respectable hotel close by, and Jack, having made a few
+simple arrangements (including a message to Emily), in case of being
+killed, laid himself on his bed, and was soon slumbering peacefully.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+About a quarter of an hour after the sun had risen, they were all upon
+the ground.
+
+Jack and Harry with their second, and the Frenchman with his.
+
+There was also a surgeon present.
+
+Little time was lost.
+
+The pistols were loaded, according to previous arrangement between the
+two seconds, with a lighter charge than usual, so that Jack might
+possibly escape with only a flesh wound instead of having a hole
+drilled right through him.
+
+The combatants were then placed half facing each other, fifteen paces
+apart.
+
+"There is a grave suspicion afloat that your adversary has an ugly
+knack of pulling the trigger half a second too soon," whispered Jack's
+second, "so I am going to give him a caution."
+
+A pistol was placed in the hand of each, and then Jack's second spoke.
+
+"Listen, gentlemen. You will fire when I give the word three. If either
+pulls the trigger before that word is pronounced, it will be murder."
+
+He looked at the Frenchman, and then counted--
+
+"One, two, three!"
+
+But before the word "three" had fully passed his lips, the Frenchman's
+pistol was discharged.
+
+Young Jack, however, prepared for such a trick, had just a moment
+before turned full towards him and stared him in the face.
+
+This manoeuvre was entirely successful.
+
+The Frenchman's unfair, murderous aim was disconcerted, and his bullet
+whistled harmlessly past our hero's ear.
+
+Jack then deliberately levelled his pistol at the Frenchman, who
+trembled violently, and showed every symptom of the most abject terror.
+
+"I thought so," exclaimed Jack. "A vile coward as well as a murderer."
+
+And he discharged his own pistol in the air.
+
+"Why did you not shoot the villain?" exclaimed Harry Girdwood, the
+surgeon, and Jack's second simultaneously.
+
+"It would be doing him too much honour, gentlemen. I leave him to the
+hangman."
+
+"You should have killed him," growled the surgeon, glancing after the
+discomfited duellist, who was sneaking off, unattended even by his own
+second.
+
+"I don't feel bloodthirsty just at present, and I have proved the words
+that gave rise to the challenge."
+
+"That is true, but some other poor devil may not be so lucky."
+
+"I fancy after this morning's _expose_ anyone may refuse to go out with
+him without fear of dishonour."
+
+"True; that is one good thing."
+
+They re-entered their carriage and returned to Paris.
+
+Just as young Jack alighted from the vehicle, he found himself seized
+by the collar and shaken violently.
+
+He turned hastily.
+
+"Dad!"
+
+"You young rascal!" exclaimed Harkaway senior, "where have you been all
+night?"
+
+"Why--I--I arranged to go out early in the morning for a drive with
+this gentleman and Harry, so I took a room here at this hotel so as to
+be close to the rendezvous."
+
+"That is the truth, but not all the truth. Sir, may I ask you the
+object of your very early excursion with my son?"
+
+"Well, sir, the fact is, this young gentleman became involved last
+night in a little dispute which necessitated an exchange of pistol
+shots, and your son, I must say, behaved in a most gallant manner."
+
+"Not touched, Jack?"
+
+"No, dad."
+
+"Did you shoot t'other fellow?"
+
+"No, father; I only shoot game--human or brute. I leave gamekeepers and
+hangmen to exterminate vermin."
+
+"Well, now, cut along home. Your mother is in no end of a funk about
+you."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+So Jack went home, and, having explained the reason of his absence, was
+soon forgiven by all, except little Emily, who boxed his ears,
+declaring it was evident he did not care about her, or he would not
+have risked his life in such a manner.
+
+Then she refused, for a whole hour, to speak to him; at the expiration
+of which time she kissed him, and asked his pardon for having shown
+such bad temper.
+
+"All right, Em. You're a brick."
+
+"Don't talk slang, sir."
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+That same evening they left Paris, and at an early hour the next
+morning were in London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER CVIII.
+
+"LAST SCENE OF ALL, THAT ENDS THIS STRANGE, EVENTFUL HISTORY."
+
+
+"Jack."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"What do you think you are going to be? I mean what business or
+profession?"
+
+This conversation took place about a week after their return to
+England.
+
+"Would you like to be a doctor or a lawyer, or become a great financier
+in the City?" continued Harkaway senior.
+
+"Neither of those, thank you. I have been too much used to plenty of
+fresh air and exercise to settle down to an indoor occupation; the sea
+is my choice."
+
+"It is not your mother's choice, so you may just give up that notion at
+once and for ever."
+
+"Well, next to that I should like to have a nice compact farm of about
+six hundred acres in a part of the country where there is good
+shooting, hunting and fishing."
+
+"Ah, that's better."
+
+"Then we'll consider that settled, dad."
+
+"Yes; but you must finish your education first; that has been much
+neglected."
+
+So the result was that both young Jack and Harry Girdwood were sent to
+reside for a year with a clergyman, who was also a farmer, and, who
+undertook, while improving their general education, to give them a
+practical knowledge of agriculture.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+The year passed away, and the two young men returned home for a brief
+holiday before settling down, for Harry was also to be a farmer, Dick
+Harvey having undertaken to put him into a farm.
+
+They were sitting at breakfast one morning when two letters were
+brought, both with foreign postmarks.
+
+Harkaway senior opened them.
+
+"This concerns you, my dear," said he to Paquita.
+
+"How so?" asked the girl.
+
+"It is from your father. And you must prepare to hear bad news."
+
+"He is dead! he is dead!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears.
+
+When some time had passed, she was calmed sufficiently to hear the
+letter read.
+
+It was a deathbed letter, in which the writer stated that, remembering
+the noblehearted Englishman, Harkaway, he appointed him sole trustee of
+his wealth, to be given as a marriage portion to Paquita.
+
+Documents were enclosed to put Harkaway in possession of the writer's
+riches and he concluded by praying Heaven to bless his daughter.
+
+A postscript was added in a different hand.
+
+    "The writer of this died on the 4th of April last, the day after he
+    signed this letter and the enclosed documents which are witnessed
+    by me."
+
+    "ANTONIO DELAVAT, Surgeon."
+
+Paquita's grief at the death of her father was great, but in little
+Emily and Mrs. Harkaway she found two comforters who did their best to
+assuage her sorrows.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+But the other letter.
+
+"Why, this is from our old Australian friend, Rook!" exclaimed
+Harkaway.
+
+"Rook!"
+
+"Yes. And this is what Rook has to say for himself.
+
+"'If ever a man had reason to be grateful to another, surely I have
+cause to bless the day I met you. For thanks to you, I am no longer an
+outcast, but have atoned for the past--aye, and refunded with interest
+that sum of money which was the cause of my being sent here. Through
+your kindness I was enabled to go into business as a farmer, and I have
+prospered so that I am now one of the richest men in this part of
+Australia; but I owe all my prosperity to you, so I will not boast of
+it. Being better educated than many of the settlers, I have been
+appointed magistrate for the district; but whenever I can be lenient
+without being unjust, I humble myself, remember what I once was, and
+try to give the culprit another chance. Heaven has greatly prospered
+me, and I pray that Heaven's blessings may rest on you and yours.'"
+
+"Bravo, Rook!" said Harvey and Harry Girdwood.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+"What are you thinking about, Jack!" asked Harry, a day or two after.
+
+"About old Mole."
+
+"What about him?"
+
+"Why, we haven't had a good lark with him since we left Marseilles."
+
+"True."
+
+"The old man will get rusty if we don't wake him up a little."
+
+"Well, what is your idea?"
+
+"Haven't any at the present; but something will turn up."
+
+And something did turn up that very day.
+
+Now it should be known that Mole, although he passed the greater time
+with his old friends, had taken a small cottage close by so that he
+might not entirely wear out their hospitality.
+
+He generally slept there, but spent his days with the Harkaways.
+
+Jack and Harry called upon the old man, and were admitted to his
+presence, as he was putting the finishing touches to his toilet.
+
+This consisted in anointing his bald head with some wonderful fluid,
+warranted to produce a luxuriant growth of hair.
+
+This gave the youths an idea, and having invited him to dinner, they
+departed to carry out their joke.
+
+All passed off pleasantly during the evening, but Jack and Harry were
+absent about an hour. During that time they procured access to Mole's
+premises, and having emptied his bottle of hair restorer, filled the
+phial with liquid glue, after which they returned to the house.
+
+"I must go early," said Mr. Mole, rising. "I have to attend court as a
+juryman in the morning."
+
+"Then you won't be able to dress your hair properly," said Jack.
+
+"Oh, yes; I shall put on a good dose before I leave home, that will
+last till evening," replied Mole.
+
+He went home, but overslept himself, and had to dress in a hurry.
+
+Mole had got to the door, when he remembered the hair restorer, and
+going back, applied a plentiful dose with a sponge.
+
+He reached the court very hot.
+
+By that time the glue had set, and he found he could not remove his
+hat.
+
+"Isaac Mole!" shouted the official who was calling the jury.
+
+"Here!" replied Mole, as he rushed to the box.
+
+A murmur of astonishment was heard.
+
+"Hats off in court!" shouted the usher.
+
+"Really, I----"
+
+"Everyone must be uncovered in court."
+
+"But, I assure you, I can't----"
+
+"Are you a Quaker?" demanded the judge.
+
+"No; but I wish to explain that I kept my hat on because----"
+
+"I can not listen to any excuse except the one I mentioned. Take off
+your hat instantly."
+
+"But I say I kept it on because----"
+
+"This is intolerable. Do you mean to insult the court! Take your hat
+off instantly, or I will fine you for contempt."
+
+"Well, I must say it's hard I can't say a word."
+
+"You are fined five pounds, and if you don't remove your hat----"
+
+"I want to explain."
+
+"Officer, remove that man's hat."
+
+The tipstaff approached Mole and hit the offending hat with his stick,
+but it did not move.
+
+Then he struck it harder, and the crown went in.
+
+"This is too bad!" screamed Mole.
+
+But the tipstaff was wroth, and picking up a large law book smashed it
+flat.
+
+This was too much for Mole.
+
+"You mutton-headed idiot, if you and the judge had a particle of sense,
+you would know that I did not remove my hat, because I couldn't. It is
+glued on."
+
+Mole, however, was led away in custody and a fresh juryman sworn.
+
+But Jack and Harry, who had been highly amused spectators, thought the
+joke had gone far enough, so they tipped a solicitor through whom an
+explanation was made, and Mole was released. He also got off serving on
+the jury.
+
+They left the court together.
+
+But another surprise was in store for them.
+
+"How are you, gentlemen?" said a very familiar voice, and, lo! Figgins
+the orphan stood before them.
+
+Figgins had not remained in Marseilles like the others, and therefore,
+had escaped being arrested for counterfeit coining.
+
+He reached London in safety, and having taken the upper part of a house
+within half a mile of St. Paul's Cathedral, resolved never more to
+trust himself beyond the City boundaries.
+
+Yet, in his retirement, his conscience pricked him for having left so
+hurriedly the friends who had rescued him from many a danger.
+
+And Mole, too, his own particular travelling companion.
+
+"I must go and see him once more," thought the orphan.
+
+So one fine day he plucked up courage to venture a short journey on an
+English railway, and knowing where the elder Harkaway lived, was
+speedily instructed how to find Mole.
+
+So now behold him shaking hands all round.
+
+"I thought I must see you once more," said he, "but it is a great
+undertaking, you know, for my travels made me more timid than ever I
+was."
+
+"Timid?" ejaculated Mole; "why, on one or two occasions you displayed
+bravery almost equal to my own."
+
+"Mildly, Mr. Mole," said Jack.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Harkaway, you three gentlemen are brave men, but I am only a
+poor timid orphan."
+
+"That need not make you timid."
+
+"But it does. So I have resolved never to trust myself out of London
+again."
+
+"Then I am afraid we shall not meet very often, Mr. Figgins," said
+Mole, "for I, you know, hate town life."
+
+"If you do come to town, though, you will call?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Then, gentlemen, I will wish you farewell. I am deeply grateful for
+all you did when we were abroad----"
+
+"Don't mention it."
+
+"Mr. Mole, farewell. You know I feel more like an orphan than ever now
+I am parting from you."
+
+"Don't talk like that, Figgins," said Mole.
+
+"I can't help it, indeed, I can't. Farewell, my dear friend, farewell!"
+
+And Figgins retired to his City home, where he still lives, though he
+is getting very feeble.
+
+Still, he brightens up whenever he speaks of his old friend and
+travelling companion, Mole.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+It is hard to part with old friends, but the decrees of fate cannot be
+avoided, so we must conclude our story.
+
+It will be hardly necessary, we fancy, to inform our readers that young
+Jack eventually married little Emily, and Harry Girdwood led Paquita to
+the altar.
+
+And as weddings are very much alike, we will not describe the ceremony,
+but content ourselves with saying that as much happiness as this world
+can afford was and is theirs.
+
+Jack and Harry have extensive farms near each other, and are wealthy
+country gentlemen.
+
+They are fond of outdoor sports, and have recently established a pack
+of harriers, Tinker and Bogey being respectively first and second
+whips. In each establishment there was formerly a room kept always
+ready for Mr. Mole, who went from one to the other as it pleased him,
+sure of a hearty welcome always.
+
+But, alas! poor Mole is now no more.
+
+Age preyed on his shaken body, and at length laid him on his deathbed.
+
+Even then he could not help referring to the matrimonial portion of his
+life.
+
+"I have been too much married, Jack. I am 'a wictim to connubiality,'
+if I may be allowed to quote Sam Weller; but never again, dear boy."
+
+And when only half conscious, he would repeat--"Never again, dear boy,"
+expressing his firm determination not to marry again.
+
+Poor Mole!
+
+After all, he ended his days in peace, and died regretted by all his
+friends, who, if they had laughed at his failings, also remembered his
+kindly disposition.
+
+He left behind him sufficient of this world's goods to enable his
+faithful Chloe to give the twins a good education.
+
+They are now rollicking schoolboys, but will have a fair start when
+their guardians, Jack and Harry, fancy they are fitted to begin their
+battle with life.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Old Jack--he is getting old now--lives with Emily not far from his son,
+and with them, of course, is Dick Harvey.
+
+Often on a fine day Old Jack will lead his grandchildren to the village
+churchyard, and while the youngsters deck poor old Mole's grave with
+flowers, will relate to them the best incidents of the old man's life.
+
+Not far from poor Mole's grave is another tomb, in which rest the
+earthly remains of Monday, Prince of Limbi, who had grown grey in the
+service of Mr. Harkaway.
+
+A much severer winter than usual laid the seeds of a complaint which
+speedily carried him off.
+
+Sunday, whose head is fast becoming white as snow, took his death much
+to heart, and even now frequently strolls into the quiet churchyard to
+indulge in pensive recollections of his old friend by the side of his
+grave--aye, and perchance to reflect on his own end, which he knows
+full well must be fast approaching.
+
+Monday had been thrifty, and when the days of mourning were over, his
+widow retired to Oxford to pass the remainder of her days with many
+good presents from Jack Harkaway, given in remembrance of his faithful
+servant Monday, the Prince of Limbi.
+
+                  *          *          *          *
+
+Readers, our tale is told; and we leave Harkaway to the repose he has
+so well earned.
+
+But if you would prosper as he has done, be like him, truthful, brave,
+and generous.
+
+In bringing to a conclusion the long series of Harkaway stories, Mr.
+Edwin J. Brett cannot let the occasion pass without thanking the
+readers for the patience with which they have followed the hero's
+career, and the praise they have always bestowed upon the story or
+stories.
+
+To invent the plot and incidents has been a labour of love on the part
+of Mr. E. J. Brett, and it seems now like parting from old and intimate
+friends, to say adieu to all the characters whose lives have been the
+subject of the story. But there must be an end to all things, even to
+Harkaway.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The
+Turks, by Bracebridge Hemyng
+
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