“I had of course no choice but to obey, and travelled about for several years until I heard of the death of the Caliph, when I hastily returned to Bagdad, only to find that all my brothers were dead.  It was at this time that I rendered to the young cripple the important service of which you have heard, and for which, as you know, he showed such profound ingratitude, that he preferred rather to leave Bagdad than to run the risk of seeing me.  I sought him long from place to place, but it was only to-day, when I expected it least, that I came across him, as much irritated with me as ever”—­ So saying the tailor went on to relate the story of the lame man and the barber, which has already been told.

“When the barber,” he continued, “had finished his tale, we came to the conclusion that the young man had been right, when he had accused him of being a great chatter-box.  However, we wished to keep him with us, and share our feast, and we remained at table till the hour of afternoon prayer.  Then the company broke up, and I went back to work in my shop.

“It was during this interval that the little hunchback, half drunk already, presented himself before me, singing and playing on his drum.  I took him home, to amuse my wife, and she invited him to supper.  While eating some fish, a bone got into his throat, and in spite of all we could do, he died shortly.  It was all so sudden that we lost our heads, and in order to divert suspicion from ourselves, we carried the body to the house of a Jewish physician.  He placed it in the chamber of the purveyor, and the purveyor propped it up in the street, where it was thought to have been killed by the merchant.

“This, Sire, is the story which I was obliged to tell to satisfy your highness.  It is now for you to say if we deserve mercy or punishment; life or death?”

The Sultan of Kashgar listened with an air of pleasure which filled the tailor and his friends with hope.  “I must confess,” he exclaimed, “that I am much more interested in the stories of the barber and his brothers, and of the lame man, than in that of my own jester.  But before I allow you all four to return to your own homes, and have the corpse of the hunchback properly buried, I should like to see this barber who has earned your pardon.  And as he is in this town, let an usher go with you at once in search of him.”

The usher and the tailor soon returned, bringing with them an old man who must have been at least ninety years of age.  “O Silent One,” said the Sultan, “I am told that you know many strange stories.  Will you tell some of them to me?”

“Never mind my stories for the present,” replied the barber, “but will your Highness graciously be pleased to explain why this Jew, this Christian, and this Mussulman, as well as this dead body, are all here?”

“What business is that of yours?” asked the Sultan with a smile; but seeing that the barber had some reasons for his question, he commanded that the tale of the hunchback should be told him.