The Jew unclosed the case and handed us the watch. Paul took it with
trembling fingers and opened it at the back. There in Russian letters
were engraved the words ALEXANDER PAULOVITCH, FROM HIS FATHER; the date
followed. There was no doubt about it. The watch had belonged to the
lost man; he had, therefore, been robbed.

"You got this from some bankrupt Pasha, Marchetto?" I inquired.
Everything offered for sale in the bazaar at second hand is said to come
from the establishment of a Pasha; the statement is supposed to attract
foreigners.

Marchetto nodded and smiled.

"A Russian Pasha," I continued. "Did you ever hear of a Russian Pasha,
Marchetto? The fellow who sold it to you lied."

"He who lies on the first day of Ramazan repents on the day of Bairam,"
returned the Jew, quoting a Turkish proverb, and grinning. I was struck
by the words. Somehow the mention of Bairam made me think of Alexander's
uncertain fate, and suggested the idea that Marchetto knew something
about it.

"Yes," I answered, looking sharply at him; "and another proverb says
that the fox ends his days in the furrier's shop. Where did you buy the
watch?"

"Allah bilir! I have forgotten."

"Allah knows, undoubtedly. But you know too," I said, laughing, and
pretending to be amused. Paul had resumed his seat upon the small divan,
and was listening with intense interest; but he knew it was best to
leave the thing to me. Marchetto was a fat man, with red hair and
red-brown eyes. He looked at me doubtfully for a moment.

"I will buy it if you will tell me where you got it," I said.

"I got it"--He hesitated. "It came out of a harem," he added suddenly,
with a sort of chuckle.

"Out of a harem!" I exclaimed, in utter incredulity. "What harem?"

"I will not tell you," he answered, gravely, the smile fading from his
face. "I swore that I would not tell."

"Will you swear that it really came from a harem?" I asked.

"I give you my word of honor," asseverated Marchetto. "I swear by my
head, by your beard"----

"I do not mean that," I said quietly. "Will you swear to me, solemnly,
before God, that you are telling the truth?"

Marchetto looked at me in surprise, for no people in the world are so
averse to making a solemn oath as the Hebrews, as, perhaps, no people
are more exact in regard to the truth when so made to bind themselves.
The man looked at me for a moment.

"You seem very curious about that watch," he said at last, turning away
and