one who holds the sacred sword and speaks from the high
pulpit," he said sternly; and his dry lean face hungered like a wolf's
for the blood of the woman.

"She has blasphemed," said the Ulema.

Outside the house, quietness had given place to murmuring, murmuring to
a noise, and a noise to a tumult, through which the yelping and howling
of the village dogs streamed.

"She shall be torn to pieces by wild dogs," said the Sheikh-el-beled.

"Let her choose her own death," said Dicky softly; and, lighting a
cigarette, he puffed it indolently into the face of the Arab sitting
beside him. For Dicky had many ways of showing hatred, and his tobacco
was strong. The sea has its victims, so had Dicky's tobacco.

"The way of her death shall be as we choose," said the Sheikh-el-beled,
his face growing blacker, his eyes enlarging in fury.

Dicky yawned slightly, his eyes half closed. He drew in a long breath of
excoriating caporal, held it for a moment, and then softly ejected it
in a cloud which brought water to the eyes of the Sheikh-el-beled. Dicky
was very angry, but he did not look it. His voice was meditative, almost
languid as he said:

"That the woman should die seems just and right--if by your kindness and
the mercy of God ye will let me speak. But this is no court, it is no
law: it is mere justice ye would do."

"It is the will of the people," the chief of the Ulema interjected. "It
is the will of Mussulmans, of our religion, of Mahomet," he said.

"True, O beloved of Heaven, who shall live for ever," said Dicky, his
lips lost in an odorous cloud of 'ordinaire.' "But there be evil tongues
and evil hearts; and if some son of liars, some brother of foolish
tales, should bear false witness upon this thing before our master the
Khedive, or his gentle Mouffetish--"

"His gentle Mouffetish" was scarcely the name to apply to Sadik Pasha,
the terrible right-hand of the Khedive. But Dicky's tongue was in his
cheek.

"There is the Mudir," said the Sheikh-el-beled: "he hath said that the
woman should die, if she were found."

"True; but if the Mudir should die, where would be his testimony?" asked
Dicky, and his eyes half closed, as though in idle contemplation of a
pleasing theme. "Now," he added, still more negligently, "I shall see
our master the Khedive before the moon is full. Were it not well that I
should be satisfied for my friends?"

Dicky smiled, and looked into the eyes of the Mussulmans with an
incorruptible