ted fulfilment of the promises which the late Aga Hamet had so
lavishly made to him.

Like many other sycophants, Sidi Hassan had mistaken his man. The new
Dey was well aware that Hassan was a turbulent, ambitious character, and
thought that it would be best for his own interests to appoint him
governor of a distant province of his dominions. Like many other
coarse, though energetic, characters, Hamet also mistook his man. He
did not know that Hassan would be content with nothing short of the
position of second in command. When, therefore, he handed him, with
many compliments, the paper containing his commission to the
governorship of the province alluded to, he was greatly surprised to
behold his former friend fly into a violent passion, tear the paper to
pieces, and fling it on the ground, as he turned on his heel and left
the room abruptly.

So suddenly and vigorously was the act done that Hamet's wonted coolness
failed him for a moment, and Hassan had passed out into the street
before he gave orders, in a voice of thunder, to have him arrested and
brought back.

There is no doubt that in his present temper the Dey would have had his
late colleague strangled on the spot, but, fortunately for himself, Sidi
Hassan, instead of returning to his own house, went straight to the
Marina, without having any definite object in view, save that he
thirsted for vengeance, and meant to have it if possible.

On his way down he met the sapient interpreter, Blindi Bobi.

"Well, Bobi," he said, making an effort to look calm, "any probability
of a rising among the slaves?"

"Not much," replied Bobi, in Turkish, shaking his head; "slaves don't
like to have their heads cut off and their skin torn away in bits."

"True!" returned Hassan, smiling grimly. "Do you know where Sidi Omar
is?"

"There," said Blindi Bobi in reply, pointing to the individual in
question, and sidling rapidly away.

"Something ails you, methinks," said Omar, with a keen glance, as Hassan
approached.

"Ay, the new Dey ails me," returned Hassan, with a feeling of
desperation, for he felt that he was committing himself in thus speaking
to one whom he knew to be his enemy--but anger often leads men into
unwise speech.

"Has he deceived you?" asked Omar, with a quiet smile.

"Truly, yes. Had I known him better he should not have had mine aid.
My party followed _me_, not _him_. I could have led them otherwise, and
still can."

"It may not be too l