He had put the paper into my hand, and I was about to return it with a refusal, when a loud knocking at the door startled us both.  It was a party of janissaries despatched by the aga, to bring us to him immediately.  I knew well enough what it must be about, and I cursed my folly in having delayed so long; but the fact was, the wine proved so agreeable to the aga’s palate that he had drunk it much faster than usual; besides which, the body of the slave took up at least a third of the cask, and diminished the contents in the same proportion.  There was no appeal, and no escape.  My master, who was ignorant of the cause, did not seem at all alarmed, but willingly accompanied the soldiers.  I, on the contrary, was nearly dead from fear.

When we arrived, the aga burst out in the most violent exclamations against my master—­“Thou rascal of a Jew!” said he, “dost thou think that thou art to impose upon a true believer, and sell him a pipe of wine which is not more than two-thirds full,—­filling it up with trash of some sort or another.  Tell me what it is that is so heavy in the cask now that it is empty?”

The Jew protested his ignorance, and appealed to me:  I, of course, pretended the same.  “Well, then,” replied the aga, “we will soon see.  Let thy Greek send for his tools, and the cask shall be opened in our presence; then perhaps thou wilt recognise thine own knavery.”

Two of the janissaries were despatched for the tools, and when they arrived I was directed to take the head out of the cask.  I now considered my death as certain—­nothing buoyed me up but my observing that the resentment of the aga was levelled more against my master than against me; but still I thought that, when the cask was opened, the recognition of the black slave must immediately take place, and the evidence of my master would fix the murder upon me.

It was with a trembling hand that I obeyed the orders of the aga—­the head of the pipe was taken out, and, to the horror of all present, the body was exposed; but instead of being black, it had turned white, from the time which it had been immersed.  I rallied a little at this circumstance, as, so far, suspicion would be removed.

“Holy Abraham!” exclaimed my master, “what is that which I see!—­A dead body, so help me God!—­but I know nothing about it—­do you, Charis?” I vowed that I did not, and called the Patriarch to witness the truth of my assertion.  But while we were thus exclaiming, the aga’s eyes were fixed upon my master with an indignant and deadly stare which spoke volumes; while the remainder of the people who were present, although they said nothing, seemed as if they were ready to tear him into pieces.

“Cursed unbeliever!” at last uttered the Turk, “is it thus that thou preparest the wine for the disciples of the Prophet?”

“Holy father Abraham!—­I know no more than you do, aga, how that body came there; but I will change the cask with pleasure, and will send you another.”