the orphan, rising grandly; "I and my flute will take our
departure together."

With these words he left the room, and very shortly afterwards quitted
the house.

* * * *

Mr. Figgins being determined to keep apart from the Harkaway party,
gave up the rooms he had taken, and after some search found another
lodging in the upper chamber of a house in a retired part of the town.

Here he determined to settle down, and devote himself with more ardour
than ever to the practice of his favourite instrument.

* * * *

It was night.

Mr. Figgins was in bed, but he could get no sleep.

Curious insects, common to Eastern climes, crawled forth from chinks in
the walls and cracks in the floor, and nibbled the orphan in various
parts of his anatomy till he felt as if the surface of his skin was one
large blister.

"What a dreadful climate is this," he murmured, as he sat up in bed;
"nothing but creeping things everywhere. Phew! what's to be done?"

He reflected a moment.

"I have it!" he exclaimed, "my flute, my precious flute, that will
soothe me."

Hopping nimbly out of bed, he dressed himself in his European costume,
seized his instrument, and began a tune.

He had been playing all day long, and the other lodgers in the house
were congratulating themselves on the cessation of the infliction, when
suddenly the instrumental torture commenced again.

"Too-too, too-tum-too, tooty-tum, tooty-tum, too-tum-too," went the
flute, in a more shrill and vigorous manner than ever, whilst a select
party of dogs, attracted by the melody, assembled under the window and
howled in concert.

In the chamber next to that occupied by the infatuated Figgins lodged a
Turk, Bosja by name.

Bosja, in the first place, had no taste for music, and particularly
detested the sound of a flute.

Secondly, he was suffering from an excruciating toothache, and the
incessant too-tum, too-tum, tooty-tum-too--with the additional music of
the dogs--drove him mad.

He was sitting up with his pipe in his mouth, and a green,
yellow-striped turban pulled down over his ears, trying to shut out the
sound, but in vain.

"Oh, oh! Allah be merciful to me!" he groaned, as the irritated nerve
gave him an extra twinge.

"Too-too, too-tum-too, too-tum, too-tum, tooty-tum-too," from the
orphan's flute answered him.

"Allah confound the wretch with his tooty-tum-too!