ce, you have only to prostrate yourself three
times; the third time you work it so that you just touch his
excellency's toe with your lips."

"I hope his excellency's boots will be clean."

"His excellency would not insult you by letting you kiss his boot. No
boot or stocking does he wear."

Mr. Figgins made an awfully wry face at this.

"Ugh! I don't like the idea of kissing a naked toe."

"You'll soon get used to it," said the captain, cheerfully, "when
you've kissed as many pashas' toes as I have. Hold your tongue--here we
are."

He pushed open the saloon door and ushered Mr. Figgins into the
presence of his excellency.

CHAPTER LXI.

MORE ABOUT CHIVEY AND HIS MASTER--THE FATAL PIT--IS IT THE END?--ARTFUL
CHIVEY AND THE ARTFULLER NOTARY--DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND--HOW THE TIGER
PREPARED TO SPRING--HERBERT MURRAY IN DANGER.

Before we proceed to describe the orphan's presentation to that arch
polygamist, the Turkish pasha, and the remarkable result of that
interview, we must look around and see if we are not neglecting any of
the characters whose eventful careers we have undertaken to chronicle.

We are losing sight of one at least, who has a very decided claim upon
our attention.

This person is none other than Herbert Murray.

The reader will not have forgotten under what circumstances we parted
company with this unscrupulous son of an unscrupulous father.

Goaded to desperation by his villainous servant, Herbert Murray turned
upon the traitor and hurled him down the gravel pit.

Then the assassin walked away from the scene.

But ere he had got far, his steps were arrested by the sound of a
groan.

A groan that came from the gravel pit.

"Was it my fancy?"

No.

Surely not.

There it was again.

A low moan--a wail of anguish.

Back he went, muttering to himself--

"Not dead?"

He went round nearly to the bottom of the pit, and peered over.

There was Chivey leaning upon his elbow groaning with the severity of
his bruises, and the dreadful shock he had received.

"You've done for me, now," he moaned, as he caught sight of his master.

"No; but I shall," retorted the assassin.

And he took a deliberate aim with the pistol.

"I expected this," said Chivey, faintly; "but remember murder is a
hanging matter."

"I shall escape," retorted Murray, coldly.

"But you can't," said Chivey, with a grin of triumph, even as he
groaned.

There was something in his manner which made Mur