“It is all right,” he said. “Give it back to Hassan, and let him take it on to Delì Pasha.”
“Pardon me,” said Hassan; “I cannot receive it so. Delì Pasha might suspect me of having opened it. Let your Highness’s secretary write in the margin that it was opened by your order, and reseal it with your seal.”
“By Allah!” said Mohammed Ali, “the youth has brains, as well as goodly limbs. Call the _khaznadâr_.”[37] When that officer entered, the Viceroy, giving him the letter, whispered a few instructions in his ear, and he left the room.
It had not escaped the Viceroy’s quick eye that Hassan had evinced some awkwardness or constraint in opening the silk bag containing the letter and replacing it in his girdle, and he said to him—
“These Frank travellers tell me that, while you were attacking the _kawàss_ on that boat, you received some blows and a stab from one of the crew. Is this so?”
“It is true,” replied Hassan; “but the blows were nothing, and the stab was of little consequence; the bleeding from it was soon stopped.”
“Does it hurt you now?” demanded the Pasha.
“A little,” he replied. “But it is not worth your Highness’s notice.”
“You are a madcap,” said the Viceroy; “and young blood thinks nothing of wounds. Raise up your left arm to your head.”
Hassan tried to obey, but the arm fell powerless at his side.
“Ha!” said the Pasha, “I knew it was so.” Then turning to his interpreter, who was also a Doctor, he continued, “Hakim Bashi, take him into another room and examine his wound, and while you are away let that Greek come in again to interpret. His tongue will not run so fast now.”
The Doctor conveyed Hassan to his own apartment, and the conversation was resumed through the medium of Demetri, who had been so thoroughly abashed by his first rebuff that he would not risk a second, but performed his interpreting duties with an accuracy which surprised himself—for he did not add more than one-third from his own head.
A quarter of an hour, then half an hour, passed away, and still neither the Doctor nor his patient returned. Several cups of coffee had been presented, and nearly an hour had elapsed ere the Hakim Bashi entered the room alone.
“Come here!” cried out the impatient Viceroy. “By Allah! your absence has been long. Where is the youth?”