ost corner without daring to move: "take my shop, my razors,
my towels,--take all I have; but don't touch my life! If you are the
Shaitan, speak; but excuse my shaving you!"

But when he found that all was hushed after the catastrophe, and that
nothing was to be feared, he approached the head and taking it up by the
lock of hair at the top, he looked at it in amazement. "A head, by all
the Imams!" said he, accosting it: "and how did you get here? Do you
want to disgrace me, you filthy piece of flesh? but you shall not!
Although Kior Ali has lost one eye, yet his other is a sharp one, and
knows what it is about. I would give you to the baker Hassan there, if
his rogue of a son, who is now looking this way, was not even sharper
than this self-same eye; but now I think of it, I will take you where
you can do no harm. The Giaour Yanaki, the Greek _kabobchi_ [80] (roast
meat man), shall have you, and shall cut you up into mincemeat for his
infidel customers." Upon this Kior Ali, drawing in one hand, in which
he carried the head, through the slit on the sides of his _beniche_, or
cloak, and taking up his pipe in the other, he walked down two streets
to the shop of the aforesaid Greek.

He frequented it in preference to that if a Mussulman, because he could
here drink wine with impunity. From long practice he knew precisely
where the provision of fresh meat was kept, and as he entered the shop,
casting his eye furtively round, he threw the head in a dark corner,
behind one of the large sides of a sheep that was to be used for the
kabobs if the day. No one saw him perform this feat; for the morning
was still sufficiently obscure to screen him. He lighted his pipe at
Yanaki's charcoal fire, and as a pretext for his visit, ordered a dish
of meat to be sent to him for breakfast; a treat to which he thought
himself fully entitled after his morning's adventure.

Yanaki, meanwhile, having cleaned his platters, put his skewers in
order, lit his fires, made his sherbets, and swept out his shop, went to
the larder for some meat for the shaver's breakfast. Yanaki was a
true Greek:--cunning, cautious, deceitful; cringing to his superiors,
tyrannical towards his inferiors; detesting with a mortal hatred his
proud masters, the Osmanlies, yet fawning, flattering, and abject
whenever any of them, however low in life, deigned to take notice of
him. Turning over his stock, he looked about for some old bits that
might serve the present purpose