ts. He had evidently seen enough to convince him that the
vessel, in which he had come, was in bad odour, and he naturally
concluded that her passengers would be narrowly watched. Of the crowds
who passed, not a human being seemed to know him, and if he was in
reality particularly observed, it was done so cleverly and so
cautiously, that with all his ingenuity, he failed to discover whether
such was the case or not. He had already traversed a number of
streets--ascending several flights of steps and descending others--when,
at the corner of a narrow lane, his eye fell on a squalid-looking beggar
who was lustily calling on the passers-by, in the name of all the
saints, to preserve him from starvation. A broad-brimmed hat with a
crown similar to those worn by Italian bandits, but sadly battered and
brown with age and dirt, was worn slouchingly on his head, so as almost
to hide his features, which were further concealed by a handkerchief
tied under his chin, and a black patch over one of his eyes. A tattered
cloak, the cast-off finery of a dandy of the palmy days of the old
Knights of Malta, covered his shoulders, as did, in part, his legs, a
pair of blue cloth trousers, through which his knees obtruded, and which
were fringed with torn stripes at the feet. Such of his features as
were visible were as ill-favoured as well could be. His voice, too, had
a peculiarly disagreeable tone, as in the _lingua Franca_ of the Maltese
mendicants he begged for alms.

This interesting personage was supporting himself carelessly on a pair
of crutches, while he rested on one foot, and stretched forth the palm
of his right hand to grasp whatever might be put into it. The Greek
stopped and put his hand into his pocket to draw out a piece of money,
while he did so narrowly eyeing the beggar. The man's voice changed
instantly that he saw the stranger looking at him; from a half whining
yet impudent tone, it began to sink and tremble with alarm, and finally
he became perfectly mute and forgetful of his calling.

"I thought you would know me," said the Greek. "And you must remember I
never forget those I have once seen either as friends or foes."

"No, signor, I perceive you do not," replied the beggar, trembling with
alarm. "Have mercy on me."

"That depends upon yourself," said the stranger. "At present, you
deserve no mercy at my hands; but I will now give you an opportunity of
serving me; and if you do so faithfully, I will o