But what matter?  He could silence the Basha with a word; yet why should he speak it?  Twenty times he had saved this man, who could neither read nor write nor reckon figures, from the threatened penalties of the Shereefean Court, and he could count them all up to him; yet why should he do so?  Through five-and-twenty evil years he had built up this man’s house; yet why should he boast of what was done, being done so foully?  He had said his say, and it was enough.  This hour of insult and outrage had been written on his forehead, and he must have come to it.  Then courage! courage!

“Husband,” cried the woman, showing her toothless jaw in a bitter smile to Ben Aboo as he crossed the patio, “you must scour this vermin out of Tetuan!”

“You are right,” he answered.  “By Allah, you are right!  And henceforth I will be served by soldiers, not by scribblers.”

Then, wheeling about once more to where Israel stood, he said in a voice of mockery, “Master, my lord, my Sultan, you came to resign your office?  But you shall do more than that.  You shall resign your house as well, and all that’s in it, and leave this town as a beggar.”

Israel stood unmoved.  “As you will,” he said quietly.

“Where are the two women—­the slaves?” asked Ben Aboo.

“At home,” said Israel.

“They are mine, and I take them back,” said Ben Aboo.

Israel’s face quivered, and he seemed to be about to protest, but he only drew a longer breath, and said again, “As you will, Basha.”

Ben Aboo’s voice gathered vehemence at every fresh question.  “Where is your money?” he cried; “the money that you have made out of my service—­out of me—­my money—­where is it?”

“Nowhere,” said Israel.

“It’s a lie—­another lie!” cried Ben Aboo.  “Oh yes, I’ve heard of your charities, master.  They were meant to buy over my people, were they?  Were they?  Were they, I ask?”

“So you say, Basha,” said Israel.

“So I know!” cried Ben Aboo; “but all you had is not gone that way.  You’re a fool, but not fool enough for that!  Give up your keys—­the keys of your house!”

Israel hesitated, and then said, “Let me return for a minute—­it is all
I ask.”

At that the woman laughed hysterically.  “Ah! he has something left after all!” she cried.

Israel turned his slow eyes upon her, and said, “Yes, madam, I have something left—­after all.”

Paying no heed to the reply, Katrina cried to Ben Aboo again, saying, “El Arby, make him give up the key of that house.  He has treasure there!”

“It is true, madam,” said Israel; “it is true that I have a treasure there.  My daughter—­my little blind Naomi.”

“Is that all?” cried Katrina and Ben Aboo together.

“It is all,” said Israel, “but it is enough.  Let me fetch her.”

“Don’t allow it!” cried Katrina.

Israel’s face betrayed feeling.  He was struggling to suppress it.  “Make me homeless if you will,” he said, “turn me like a beggar out of your town, but let me fetch my daughter.”