Paul Patoff Part 30

"If it is worth so much, why do you not take it to one of the emba.s.sies?" asked Balsamides at last. He had resolved that he would prolong the discussion until twelve o'clock, judging that by midday the negro would be on his way back to Yeni Koj, and that there would be no further chance of seeing him. He therefore broached the subject of Marchetto's trade with the foreigners, knowing that once upon this tack the Jew would have endless stories and anecdotes to relate. But Gregorios was not destined to stand in need of so much ingenuity. He would never have made the attempt in which he was now engaged unless he had antic.i.p.ated success, and he was not surprised when a tall, smooth-faced negro, of hideous countenance but exceedingly well dressed, put his head into the shop. He saluted Gregorios and entered. Marchetto touched his mouth and his fez with his right hand, but did not at first rise from his seat upon the floor. Balsamides watched the man. He looked about the shop, and then approached the old gla.s.s case in the corner. He had hardly glanced at it when he turned and tried to catch Marchetto's eye. The latter made an almost imperceptible motion of the head.

Gregorios was satisfied that the pantomime referred to the watch, which was no longer in its place. He continued to talk with the Jew for a few minutes, and then slowly rose from his seat.

"I see you have business with this gentleman," he said. "I have something to do in the bazaar. I will return in half an hour."

The Lala seemed delighted, and politely made way for Gregorios to pa.s.s, but Marchetto of course protested loudly that the negro's business could wait. He accompanied Gregorios to the door, and with many inclinations stood looking after him for a few moments. At a little distance Gregorios pretended to be attracted by something exposed for sale, and, pausing, looked furtively back. The Jew had gone in again. Then Balsamides returned and entered a shop almost opposite to Marchetto's, kept by another Spanish Hebrew of Saloniki, who made a specialty of selling shawls,--a smart young fellow, with beady black eyes.

"Good morning, Abraham," he said. "Have you manufactured any new Kashmir shawls out of old rags of borders and French imitations since I saw you?"

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? You shall suffer for it, you Saloniki beast!"

"Dog yourself, and son of a dog!" bellowed Marchetto, his big face growing fiery red as he blocked the doorway with his bulky shoulders.

"Behold the grat.i.tude of this vile wretch!" he cried, as though addressing an audience. "Look at this insatiate jackal, this pork-eater, this defiler of his father's grave! Oh! beware of touching what is black, for the filth will surely rub off!"

Exasperated at the Jew's eloquent abuse, the Lala tried to push him back into the shop, flouris.h.i.+ng his light cane in his right hand. In a moment a crowd collected, and the epithets of the combatants were drowned amidst the jeers and laughter of the by-standers, delighted at seeing the dandy keeper of a great harem in the clutches of the st.u.r.dy Marchetto.

Abraham looked out, and then turned back to his customer.

"It is Selim," he said with a chuckle. "He has been trying to cheat Marchetto again."

"Again?" repeated Gregorios, who had at last attained his end. "And who is Selim, Abraham?"

"Selim? Everybody in the bazaar knows Selim, the most insolent, avaricious, money-grabbing Lala in Stamboul. He is more like a Persian than anything else. He is the Lala of Laleli Khanum Effendi, who lives at Yeni Koj. They say she is a witch since her husband died," added Abraham, lowering his voice.

"I have heard so," said Gregorios calmly. But in reality he was triumphant. He knew now what had become of Alexander Patoff.

The noise outside was rapidly growing to an uproar. Gregorios slipped quickly out of the shop and made his way through the crowd, for he felt that it was time to put a stop to the quarrel. Many of the people knew him, and knew that he was an officer and a man in authority; recognizing him, they stopped yelling and made way for him.

"What is this?" he cried, violently separating Marchetto and the negro, who were screaming insults at each other and shaking their fists in each other's faces. "Stop this noise," he continued, "or I will send a score of soldiers down to keep you in order. If the Lala is not satisfied, he can go before the magistrate. So can Marchetto, if he likes.--Go!" he said to the negro, pus.h.i.+ng him away and scattering the crowd. "If you have any complaints to make, go to the magistrate."

"Who are you?" asked the fellow, insolently.

"It is none of your business," answered Gregorios, dragging the man away in the nervous grip of his white hand; then lowering his voice, he spoke quickly in the man's ear: "Do you remember the Bairam, a year ago last summer? If you are not quiet, I will ask you what became of the chain of that watch, of the silver box, and especially of that beautiful ring with the sapphire and two diamonds. Moreover, I may ask you what became of a certain Frank Effendi, to whom they belonged,--do you understand?"

The man trembled in every joint, and a greenish livid hue seemed to drive the blackness out of his face.

"I know nothing!" he gasped hysterically. But Balsamides let him go.

"Be quick," he said. "The watch will be paid for, but do not venture to come to the bazaar again for some time. Fear nothing,--I have an eye to your safety."

The last speech was perhaps somewhat ambiguous, but the man, being once released, dived into a narrow pa.s.sage and disappeared. The crowd of Jews had shrunk into their shops again. Gregorios hastily concluded a bargain with Abraham, and then returned to finish his conversation with Marchetto. He found the latter mopping his forehead, and talking excitedly to a couple of sympathetic Hebrews who had entered his place of business. On seeing Balsamides they immediately left the shop.

"I have sent him away," said Gregorios. "He will not trouble you again."

"It is not my fault if the dog of a Turk is angry," answered Marchetto.

"I hardly know. He says he had left a watch with you to be sold, and that now he can get neither the watch nor the money. You like to keep your customers waiting when they have anything to sell, Marchetto. How long is it since he gave you the watch?"

"On my head, it is only three weeks," answered the Jew. "How can I sell a watch in three weeks and get the money for it? An Effendi took the watch yesterday to show it to Vartan, the jeweler. He is a friend of yours, Effendim; you first brought him here a long time ago. His name is a strange name,--Cricks,--a very strange name, like the creaking of an ungreased cart-wheel."

"Oh, did he take the watch? I will speak to him about it. He will pay you immediately. How did the Lala come to have a watch to sell?"

"Allah bilir. He is always bringing me things to sell."

"Other things?"

"He showed me a gold chain one day in the winter. But it was not curious, so he took it to a jeweler in the jeweler's tcharshee, who gave him the value of the gold by weight."

"Who is he?" asked Gregorios, judging that he ought to show some curiosity about the man.

"I cannot tell," answered the Jew.

"That means that you will not, of course. Very well. It is your affair.

Curiosity is the mother of deception. Will you give me the Rhodes for ten pounds?"

They began to bargain again, but nothing was concluded on that day, for Gregorios had got what he wanted, and was anxious to reach home and to see me.

Patoff and I, as usual on Thursday, had made a trip up the Bosphorus, and it was on this occasion that he first pointed out to me the hideous negro. He proved to be the same man I had seen once before, on our very first excursion. To-day he looked more ugly than ever, as he went ash.o.r.e at Yeni Koj. There was a malignity in his face such as I have never seen equaled in the expression of any human being.

"I wonder what we shall find out," said Paul thoughtfully. "I have a very strong belief that he is the fellow who sold the watch. If he is, poor Alexander can have had but small chance of escape. Did you ever see such a diabolical face? Of course it may be a mere fancy, but I cannot rid myself of the thought."

"Balsamides will find out," I replied. "He can handle those fellows in the bazaar as only an Oriental can."

It was not long before I heard the story of the morning's adventure from Gregorios. I found him waiting for me and very impatient. He told his tale triumphantly, dwelling on the fact that Marchetto himself had never suspected that he was interested in the matter.

"And who is Laleli Khanum Effendi?" I inquired when he had finished.

"And how are we to get into her house?"

"You never heard of Laleli? You Franks think you know Constantinople, but you know very little in reality. Laleli means 'a tulip.' A pretty name, Tulip. Why not 'cabbage rose,' or 'artichoke,' or 'asparagus'?

Laleli is an extraordinary woman, my friend, and has been in the habit of doing extraordinary things, ever since she poisoned her husband. She is the sister of a very high and mighty personage, who has been dead some time. She was married to an important officer in the government.

She was concerned in the conspiracy against Abdul Azis; she is said to have poisoned her husband; she fell in her turn a victim to the conspiracy against Murad, and, though not banished, lost all favor. She managed to keep her fortune, however, which is very large, and she has lived for many years in Yeni Koj. There are all sorts of legends about her. Some say she is old and hideous, others declare that she has preserved her beauty by witchcraft. There is nothing absurd which has not been said of her. She certainly at one time exercised considerable influence in politics. That is all I know of her except this, which I have never believed: it has been said that more than one person has been seen to enter her house, but has never been seen to leave it."

"How can one believe that?" I asked skeptically. "If it were really known, her house would have been searched, especially as she is out of favor."

"It is curious, however," said Gregorios, without contradicting me, "that we should have traced Alexander Patoff's personal possessions to her house."

"What shall we do next?" I asked.

"There are only two courses open. In the first place, we can easily catch the Lala who sold the watch, and take him to a quiet place."

"Well, do you suppose he will tell us what he knows?"

"We will torture him," said Balsamides, coolly. I confess that I was rather startled by the calm way in which he made the proposition. I inwardly determined that we should do nothing of the kind.

"What is the other alternative?" I inquired, without showing any surprise.

"To break into the house and make a search, I suppose," answered my friend, still quite unmoved, and speaking as though he were proposing a picnic on the Bosphorus.