ith 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--