Shibli trembled as those forms brushed by him. The smell of them was not the smell of men, but of goats or camels, he knew not which. A guttural oath from one of them and the words, “I touch a man,” uttered in a tone of alarm, failed to humanize them. But the stroke of a match and a gladsome shout from Hassan—“The Bedû! Thanks to Allah!”—relieved him of the shudder of the unknown, while multiplying his fears a hundredfold. For that shout was prelude to a frightful conflict of men fighting tooth and nail in the dark, panting hard in the death grapple, striking what they could not see. Shibli heard groans, gasps, short screams of rage, and the struggling fall of heavy bodies. His heart beat in his brain. He shrank back up the steps to the very door. Just then the door opened, and, like a sword flash, out leapt the maddened youth. He broke through two ranks of soldiers, oversetting some of them. He was endued with the strength of ten men by the mortal fright possessing him. Blinded by the shine of many lanterns, he missed the gate at first and struck the wall beside it. Rebounding and quickly collecting himself, he dashed for the startled sentry, who, concluding he had to deal with a supernatural agent, wisely dodged the encounter. “One has escaped, O my lord,” reported the soldier Muhammed to his captain. “A youth, but a youth of the devils. As well try to catch a bullet.” “What matter!... Have you stopped the fight in there? Drive them all forth.” Hassan Agha and his three comrades, with all who remained of their antagonists, emerged, torn and bleeding, from the cellar. They blinked in the glare of the lanterns. To their dazed apprehension it seemed the whole city was arrayed against them. By degrees their senses cleared somewhat. Having dashed the blood from his eyes, Hassan descried Abd-ur-Rahman. “Ma sh’ Allah! Thou here, O child of my soul? Is it a trick of thine? By my gun, thou hast fooled us perfectly. It was a stratagem worthy of thy father’s brother, worthy of Milhem Basha, the very parent of guile.” In the same playful tone Abd-ur-Rahman answered: “It seemed desirable to read thee a little lesson, O beloved. Thy endeavor has been to defame me; thou madest light of my commands. To-night thou hast thy wages.” “But as for thee, I will pay thee soon or late, thou lying dog.” Hassan turned fiercely upon the soldier Muhammed. That deceiver only laughed. “I scoff at thee, old dotard. Thou art cross, it is natural. What is that to me? I am once more Bimbashi, which is all I care about. If thou didst think to outwit our young lord here—thou with but two old eyes and the mind of a bull—well, Allah bless thee, that is all.” “What care I?” said Hassan, assuming a jaunty air. “I have at least done something to pay off a debt of long standing. We have slain a few of these dwellers in the House of Hair, who slew my two sons. To Allah praise therefore.”