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"We must find out if Marchetto has sold the chain and the case for him," I said. "Leave Marchetto to me," said Gregorios, confidently. "I will spend the day with him to-morrow. Have you ever seen the negro since that affair in the Valley of Roses?" "Often," replied Paul, somewhat to my surprise. "He goes to Yeni Köj every Thursday."
I will come upon Marchetto by accident, and he will of course want to show me the Rhodes tapestry; then I will spend the whole morning over the bargain, and I shall not miss the Lala if he comes." Balsamides was evidently fully roused, and as we smoked a last cigarette in his rooms that night he talked enthusiastically of what he hoped to accomplish on the next day.
If the Lala is not satisfied, he can go before the magistrate. So can Marchetto, if he likes. Go!" he said to the negro, pushing him away and scattering the crowd. "If you have any complaints to make, go to the magistrate." "Who are you?" asked the fellow, insolently.
"Alexander's?" Paul nodded. "Pretend to be indifferent," I said in Russian, fearing lest Marchetto should understand. The Jew unclosed the case and handed us the watch. Paul took it with trembling fingers and opened it at the back. There in Russian letters were engraved the words ALEXANDER PAULOVITCH, FROM HIS FATHER; the date followed. There was no doubt about it.
Abraham smiled pleasantly, and began to unfold his wares. Before many minutes the sound of angry voices was heard outside. Gregorios had ensconced himself in a corner, whence he could see what went on without being seen. The quarrelers were Marchetto and the Lala. "Dog of a Jew!" screamed the black man in his high, cracked voice. "Will you rob me, and then turn me out of your filthy den?
He feels sure that he can catch the man who took it to Marchetto." I explained to Paul the course Gregorios proposed to follow. He seemed to think the chance was a poor one. "I have been pursued by an idea ever since this morning," he said at last. "I dare say you will think it very foolish, but I cannot get rid of it. Do you remember the adventure in the Valley of Roses?
Paul had resumed his seat upon the small divan, and was listening with intense interest; but he knew it was best to leave the thing to me. Marchetto was a fat man, with red hair and red-brown eyes. He looked at me doubtfully for a moment. "I will buy it if you will tell me where you got it," I said. "I got it" He hesitated. "It came out of a harem," he added suddenly, with a sort of chuckle.
To think of all this bit of broidered velvet has seen, what joyous sights! It may have been in the very room where she died. But she was a wicked old woman, Marchetto. I could not give more than eight pounds for anything which belonged to so depraved a creature." "Hein?" ejaculated the Jew, with a soft smile. "I know what you want.
"If I could make Rhodes tapestry, I should be as rich as the Hunkyar," retorted Marchetto, squatting on the matted floor and slowly drawing the magnificent tapestry across his knees, so that Gregorios could see it to advantage. "Do you take me for a madman?" asked the aid-de-camp. "I do not care for Rhodes tapestry. Kaldyr! If it were old, it would have holes in it."
The next time he comes it will be gone, but Marchetto will not have been paid for it and will refuse to pay the Lala. There will inevitably be a hubbub and a noise over it. The hamál can easily find out the name of the negro, who is probably well known in the bazaar." "But suppose that I am right, and it is already paid for?" I objected. "It is very unlikely.
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