“Thy word is decisive.  The Padishah has decided that what thou and thy comrades demand shall be accomplished.  The Grand Seignior himself awaits thee in the Porcelain Chamber.  There war shall be proclaimed, and the kaftans of remembrance distributed to thee and thy fellows.”

And with that the Ulemas and Halil’s comrades were led away to the kiosk of Erivan.

“And ye who are the finest fellows of us all,” said Kabakulak, turning to Halil and Musli—­“ye, Halil and Musli, come first of all to kiss the Sultan’s hand.”

Halil with a cold smile pressed Musli’s hand.  Even now poor Musli had no idea what was about to befall them.  Only when at “the gate of the cold spring” the Spahis on guard divested them of their weapons, for none may approach the Sultan with a sword by him—­only, then, I say, did he have a dim sensation that all was not well.

In the Sofa Chamber, where the Divan is erected, is a niche separated from the rest of the chamber by a high golden trellis-work screen, behind whose curtains it is the traditional custom of the Sultan to listen privately to the deliberations of his counsellors.  From behind these curtains a woman’s face was now peeping.  It was Adsalis, the favourite Sultana, and behind her stood Elhaj Beshir, the Kizlar-Aga.  Both of them knew there would be a peculiar spectacle, something well worth seeing in that chamber to-day.

The curtains covering the doors of the Porcelain Chamber bulged out, and immediately afterwards two men entered.  They advanced to the steps of the Sultan’s throne, knelt down there, and kissed the hem of the Sultan’s garment.

Mahmud was sitting on his throne, the same instant Kabakulak clapped his hands and cried: 

“Bring in their kaftans!”

At these words out of the adjoining apartment rushed Pelivan and the thirty-two Janissaries with drawn swords.

Mahmud hid his face so as not to see what was about to happen.

“Halil! we are betrayed!” exclaimed Musli, and placing himself in front of his comrade he received on his own body the first blow which Pelivan had aimed at Halil.

“In vain hast thou written thy name above mine, Patrona,” roared the giant, waving his huge broadsword above his head.

At these words Halil drew forth from his girdle a dagger which he had secreted there, and hurled it with such force at Pelivan that the sharp point pierced his left shoulder.

But the next moment he was felled to the ground by a mortal blow.

While still on his knees he raised his eyes to Heaven and said: 

“It is the will of Allah.”

At another blow he collapsed, and falling prone breathed forth his last sigh: 

“I die, but my son is still alive.”

And he died.

Then all his associates were brought into the Sofa Chamber one by one from the Erivan kiosk where they had been robed in splendid kaftans, and as they entered the room were decapitated one after the other.  They had not even time to shut their eyes before the fatal stroke descended.