“Now Allah witness. We knew thee not, nor had ground of quarrel with thee,” cried a Bedawi, who stood by, very sadly. “But now you have slain my father and my brother, their blood cries for your blood. It may prove a long story, but the end is already written.” A snarl of thunder in the distance gave a sinister voice to the darkness which encompassed the lighted crowd. Hassan Agha turned again to Abd-ur-Rahman. “What would a certain old man think of this treatment of one who loved thee?” he asked with deep meaning, almost with authority. “What would the saintly——” “Enough said!” cried Abd-ur-Rahman; and by the haste of his ejaculation Hassan knew himself secure from public dishonor. “I intend not to disgrace so old a friend. Pay ten pounds Turk for distribution among the soldiers under my command, or in default of that sum—which I think you could hardly make up among you—give me a mare from your cavalry, and it is finished between us.” “The money is with me,” said Hassan, with a chastened gleam of satisfaction; for he knew that Abd-ur-Rahman desired the mare. A gleeful murmur spread among the soldiery. “With these sons of wandering I will be lenient in like manner. Ten pounds Turk, or one of their thoroughbred mares; that is the price of escape. But first, in their case, it is necessary that I see some certificate of their discharge from the military service.” “A’al! He is wise. May Allah preserve Abd-ur-Rahman, coming glory of the realm.” Hassan stayed to hear no more. He paid his fine with the money taken from the Câdi, and slunk away out of the sphere of the lantern light. Hearing laughter, he ground his teeth and vowed vengeance senselessly. The watch at the gate of the city turned out to mock him and his companions, inquiring whence those blood stains, where the rifles, and so forth. Flashes of lightning illumined the country fitfully. The stars were covered. Thunder rolled, now near, now distant. In the olive grove where they had left their steeds, it began to rain, big drops, which shook the leaves. The whinny and stamp of the horses guiding them, they found the place. The Thief lay on his back, groaning, just as they had left him. His legs were broken, he moaned. He told how, as he lay looking up at the sky, he had seen a sword flash forth from heaven over the Holy City, and heard a great voice cry: “Die, all of you!” He supposed that Allah would destroy those wicked townsfolk, and Hassan thought it very likely. CHAPTER XVII