house and land by combat. He did not perceive
that by the course of law and influence he might defend them more
effectually, and for ever. He probably did not imagine that your
Honour would yourself approach the Governor and plead with him.'

'I shall see nobody,' I answered crossly. 'We return at once.'

'Good,' said Rashid. 'I get the horses ready.'

'And yet,' said our preceptor thoughtfully, 'his Excellency is, they
say, a charming man; and this would be a golden opportunity for us to
get acquainted with him and bespeak his favour. Thus the Sheykh Yusuf,
though himself contemptible, may be of service to us. Already I have
told the people here that we have come on an important errand to the
Governor. Rashid, too, as I know, has spoken of the matter in a
boastful way. If, after that, we should depart in dudgeon without
seeing him, there would be gossip and perhaps--God knows--even
political disturbance. The Governor, coming to hear of it, might
reasonably feel aggrieved.'

He argued so ridiculously, yet so gravely, that in the end I was
obliged to yield. And so, a little before ten o'clock, we sauntered
through the narrow streets to the Government offices--a red-roofed,
whitewashed building near which soldiers loitered, in a dusty square.

There we waited for a long while in an ante-room--spacious, but rather
dingy, with cushionless divans around the walls, on which a strange
variety of suitors sat or squatted. Some of these appeared so poor
that I admired their boldness in demanding audience of the Governor.
Yet it was one of the most wretched in appearance who was called first
by the turbaned, black-robed usher. He passed into an inner room: the
door was shut.

Then Suleyman went over to the usher, who kept guard upon that door,
and held a whispered conversation with him. I know not what he said;
but, when the wretched-looking man came out again, the usher slipped
into the inner room with reverence and, presently returning, bowed to
us and bade us enter. I went in, followed by Suleyman, who swelled
and strutted like a pouter pigeon in his flowing robes.

The Caimmacam was a nice-looking Turk of middle-age, extremely neat in
his apparel and methodical in his surroundings. He might have been an
Englishman but for the crimson fez upon his brow and a chaplet of red
beads, with which he toyed perpetually. He gazed into my eyes with
kind inquiry. I told him that I came with tidings of a grave
disturbance in his d