treak. Say eight,--I dare say it will do as well."

"Marchetto," said Chrysophrasia sadly, "I am afraid your embroidery is
only worth eight pounds."

The Jew was kneeling on the floor, squatting upon his heels. He put on
an injured expression, and looked up at Miss Dabstreak's face.

"Eight pounds!" he exclaimed, in holy horror. "You know where this come
from, lady? Ha! Laleli Khanum house--dead--no more like it." Marchetto
of course knew the story of Alexander's confinement, and by a ready lie
turned it to his advantage. Every one looked surprised, and began to
examine the embroidery more closely.

"Really!" ejaculated Chrysophrasia. "How strange this little world is!
To think of all this bit of broidered velvet has seen,--what joyous
sights! It may have been in the very room where she died. But she was a
wicked old woman, Marchetto. I could not give more than eight pounds for
anything which belonged to so depraved a creature."

"Hein?" ejaculated the Jew, with a soft smile. "I know what you want.
Here!" he exclaimed, springing up, and rummaging among his shelves.
Presently he brought out a shabby old green cloth caftan, trimmed with a
little tarnished silver lace, and held it up triumphantly to
Chrysophrasia's sight.

"Twenty-five-six pounds!" he cried, exultingly. "Cheap. Him
coat of very big saint-man--die going to Mecca last year. Cheap,
lady--twenty-five-six pounds!"

"I think you are fairly caught, aunt Chrysophrasia," observed Paul, with
a laugh.

"Who would have guessed that there was so much humor in an Israelite?"
asked Chrysophrasia, with a sad intonation. "I cannot wear the saint's
tea-gown, Marchetto," she continued; "otherwise I would gladly give you
twenty-five pounds for it. Eight pounds for the embroidery,--no more. It
is not worth so much. I even think I see a nauseous tint of magenta in
the velvet."

"Twenty-four-five pounds, lady. I lose pound--your backsheesh."

How long the process of bargaining might have been protracted is
uncertain. At that moment Balsamides Bey entered the shop. It appeared
that he had called at the Carvels', and, being told that the party were
in Stamboul, had gone straight to the Jew's shop, in the hope of finding
them there. He was introduced to the professor by Paul, with a word of
explanation. Marchetto's face fell as he saw the adjutant, who had a
terribly acute knowledge of the value of things. Balsamides was asked to
give his opinion. He examined the piece