The following morning the servant of the house in which I was lodging entered the room and observed that a Zaptieh corporal, or Onbashee, who had escorted us into the town on the day of my arrival, wished to see me. "Tell him to come in," I said. In a few minutes the Onbashee opened the door; approaching me, he took from his waistcoat five piastres, and placed them in the palm of his hand. "What is this for?" I inquired. "Osman!" answered the Onbashee, with a sigh. "Osman! What has he been doing?" "Osman gave them to me, Effendi; but you said that he was to give me half a medjidi—he has kept the difference for himself!" It now flashed across my mind that the previous evening I had desired Osman to give the corporal half a medjidi as a baksheesh, and that I had told him to do so in the presence of the servant of the house. The latter had informed the Onbashee. Osman, who wished to appropriate to himself the difference between five piastres and the larger coin, was thus detected. I sent for the culprit. He was aware that his knavery had been discovered. Instead of coming to me with his usual assertion that he was the most industrious man in the world, he stood in the corner of the room, an object of derision to the Onbashee, who was regretting the loss of his half medjidi, and to the servant of the house, who had been the means of disclosing Osman's dishonesty. Addressing the guilty man, I asked him why he had not given the Zaptieh the half medjidi, and added that the previous evening, when he had told me of the expenses of the day, he had charged me with that sum. Osman had hardly anything to say for himself. Presently he stammered out something about his only having five piastres in his pocket. "That is a lie, Effendi!" here interrupted the Onbashee. "He had many coins in his hand when he gave me the five piastres." I at once made up my mind to get rid of Osman. Vankovitch's remarks about the Turk's dishonesty also recurred to my memory. Osman was undoubtedly a rogue; I determined to procure another servant. "Osman," I said, "you have robbed a Mohammedan, a follower of Islam, and one of your own religion. If you had confined yourself to robbing me, I could have understood it, for you might have reasoned to yourself as follows: 'The Effendi is a giaour, and there is gold in his purse.' But to rob a brother Mohammedan, and a poor man; to rob him of the pittance which I had given him,—this I can only understand by the assumption that you are a greater scoundrel than I thought you were! You are no longer my servant. You darken the threshold no longer!" "I am innocent, Effendi!" cried Osman. "Well, prove your innocence, and I will say no more about the matter." "Effendi, the Onbashee is a liar!" "Very likely, but then the servant must be a liar as well, and he saw you give the five piastres to the corporal. Now what interest has the servant in telling a lie about the matter?"