Marchetto's face fell as we admired his tapestry, for he knew that we would not begin a bargain by conceding the smallest merit to the object offered. But he put a brave face on the matter, and began to show us other things: a Giordès carpet, a magnificent piece of old Broussa gold embroidery on pale blue satin, curious embroideries on towels, known as Persian lace,--indeed, every variety of ancient stuff. Tired of sitting still, I rose and turned over some of the things myself. In doing so I struck my elbow against the old glass case in the corner, and looked to see whether I had broken it. In so doing my eye naturally fell upon the things laid out on white paper beneath the glazed frame. Among them I saw a watch which attracted my attention. It was of silver, but very beautifully engraved and adorned in Russian _niello_. The ribbed knob which served to wind it was of gold. Altogether the workmanship was very fine, and the watch looked new.
"Here is a Russian watch, Patoff," I said, tapping the glass pane with my finger. Paul rose languidly and came to the table. When he saw the thing he turned pale, and gripped my arm in sudden excitement.
"It is his," he said, in a low voice, trying to raise the lid.
"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. The watch had belonged to the lost man; he had, therefore, been robbed.
"You got this from some bankrupt Pasha, Marchetto?" I inquired. Everything offered for sale in the bazaar at second hand is said to come from the establishment of a Pasha; the statement is supposed to attract foreigners.
"A Russian Pasha," I continued. "Did you ever hear of a Russian Pasha, Marchetto? The fellow who sold it to you lied."
"He who lies on the first day of Ramazán repents on the day of Bairam," returned the Jew, quoting a Turkish proverb, and grinning. I was struck by the words. Somehow the mention of Bairam made me think of Alexander's uncertain fate, and suggested the idea that Marchetto knew something about it.