ight."

Whilst the judge dipped once more into the cash-box, the executioner
went for weapons, and shortly reappeared with a couple of enormous
scimitars, which he placed in the hands of the combatants.

A dead silence fell upon the eager crowd, who longed for the fight to
commence.

"Are you ready?" demanded the bashaw.

"N-n-n-no, I'm not," faltered the orphan, whose ferocity had entirely
disappeared with the loss of his flute; "I'm not a fighting man, and I
don't like fighting with swords--I might get hurt. I would rather
forgive Mr. Bosja than kill him."

His opponent evinced his satisfaction at this humane proposal by a
ghastly smile.

But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with terror, and he said
nothing.

But the bashaw was not to be thwarted in this manner.

"It is my will that you fight," he said, in a determined tone; "and
fight you must, or each find a substitute."

The combatants strained their eyes eagerly amongst the crowd.

But no one volunteered to take their places.

Suddenly Mr. Figgins caught sight of a black figure that was
pantomiming to him very eagerly in the distance.

A flash of joy rushed across his troubled spirit.

It was Tinker.

He could judge by his actions he was ready to take his place, and
therefore he exclaimed aloud--

"I've found a substitute."

"Where?" demanded the bashaw, looking intensely disappointed.

"Here de dustibute," shouted Tinker, in reply; "make way, you
whitey-brown Turkies, an' let de rale colour come forrards."

As he spoke, he elbowed his way through the crowd till he reached the
space in front of the seat of justice.

Here he shook hands with Mr. Figgins, and nodded as familiarly to the
bashaw as though he had been a particular friend of his.

"What son of Jehanum is that?" growled the bashaw, scowling fiercely at
Tinker.

"He is my substitute," exclaimed the grocer.

"Is he? And do you know what you must pay to be allowed to make use of
him?" asked the bashaw.

"No, you old thief, I don't," said Figgins, softly; then aloud--"how
much?"

"Two hundred sequins," said the judge.

"Oh, certainly," assented the orphan; "no doubt you intend to empty my
box before you let me go."

This restored the complacency of the bashaw, who, having by this last
demand used up all the grocer's cash, finished by taking possession of
his cash-box to carry it away in.

Having locked it safely up, he cried--

"I wish to be amused. Let the fig