she had injured to tell her where the ring was. The Jinn in question was good enough to mention the thief by name, much to the delight of our neighbour, who subsequently recovered his property. I can assure you, Sarkár, that this last proof of the Mullá’s power made Hamadan the safest city in Persia. Theft was unknown there. May Mullá ’Alí have a long life!” The talisman-monger was the next to speak. He said: “You must know that I am not always in Mecca. I come here for the three journeying months, then I return to Smyrna, where I have two shops of this nature in the bazaars. Next to one of my shops there is a small coffee-house, whither I go for refreshment in my leisure hours. About three years ago there came to Smyrna a man named Dervish Ibrahim, from Turkistan. Everybody except myself believed in the supernatural power of this dervish, who wore a white beard on a shining face. One evening, when I had closed my shop and was proceeding home, I found the dervish seated on the front bench of the coffee-house, surrounded by his followers. He called me by my name--Abdullah-ben-Jafar--though it had never been mentioned before him, and when I went to him he said: ‘I can see from your face that you scoff at the power of talismans, though you sell them to those who are wiser than yourself, and therein show yourself possessed of some share of wisdom. It is my humour to-night to reveal to you a single drop of the ocean of omnipotence. Come, take this scrap of paper, whereon I have written a few words to the dead, carry it to the neighbouring cemetery, bury it in the sand near the entrance, and bring back to me a handful of the sand. Be careful, on returning, not to look behind you, for, if you do so, you will be torn in a million pieces that will be distributed among those that lie there. Look ahead, and your life will be safe.’ Well, curiosity possessed me, and off I went. When I had buried the scrap of paper, and taken up a handful of sand, I heard thunder and the voices of the dead crying, ‘Oh, Abdullah-ben-Jafar, take not the sand away, else you will be cut in bits. Stop! Stop! Stop!’ I shuddered all over my body, and lost consciousness suddenly. When I awoke it was to see the sun rising. I hurried to the dervish, and kissed his feet, and implored him to forgive me for having doubted his power to work miracles.” This story-telling had attracted a number of pilgrims, who, to the exaltation of the talisman-monger, fell to examining his curiosities with a view to business. After every purchase, Abdullah-ben-Jafar raised his hands to heaven, and cried: “Praise be to God on high! May His kindness be increased!” CHAPTER III SEYYID ’ALÍ’S STORY OF HIS REDEMPTION