an in black, shuffling the cards.

The commandant turned quickly. "Why the law, Monsieur the Chancellor?"
he asked.

"Because," answered the little man, still shuffling the cards, "he says
that Mirza has a certain claim upon his wife, how valid he does not
know; and he needs counsel and he needs shelter. When a man writes like
this, he also needs a lawyer;" and he commenced a new deal.

The commandant stood a moment, thinking. Then he raised his head with a
jerk, and said to Ali: "Tell your master that I say 'yes.'"

Ali made salaam and glided from the room.

"He has left his knife," said the lawyer.

The commandant turned to the _spahi_. "Corporal," he said, "go to the
citadel and bring back twelve men. Place six of them at the entrance of
the square, and six of them before my house. When Abdullah's caravan
has entered the square, have the further six close in behind. You may
take your time. It will be an hour before you are needed."

The _spahi_ saluted, and went out.

The commandant turned to the little man in black.

"Why in the world," he asked, "did you object to my harboring Abdullah?
He is my friend and yours. He is the best man that crosses the desert.
He has eaten our salt many times. If all here were like him, you and I
might go home to France, with our medals and our pensions."

"True," said the lawyer, gathering his cards, "and very likely there is
no risk in harboring him and his wife." He shuffled the cards
mechanically, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.

"My friend," he said, at length, "whom do you consider the most
powerful person in Biskra, the person to be first reckoned with?"

The commandant laughed. "As I am in command," he said, "I should be
court-martialled if I denied my own superiority."

"And yet," said the lawyer, "you are only a poor second."

The commandant, who was sitting astride of his chair, his hands upon
its back, demi-vaulted as if he were in the saddle of a polo pony.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

The lawyer kept shuffling the cards, but he paid no attention to them.

"Go to the window," he said, "and tell me what you see."

The commandant rose, and went to the window, his spurs jingling. He
drew the curtain and looked out.

"What do you see?" asked the counsellor.

"I see the square," answered the commandant, "with five hundred
kettle-lights, and three thousand Mussulmans gorging themselves, making
up lost time."

"Look over at the left corner," sa