The bashaw grinned from ear to ear.

"Perhaps the prisoner would rather pay than suffer," he said, after a moment.

"Yes, yes, I would," cried Mr. Figgins, desperately; "a great deal rather. How much?"

"Ten sequins a stroke. A hundred and ninety sequins in all."

"I'll pay the sum. Oh, why did I ever leave delightful London?" said the grocer.

"Raise him!" said the bashaw.

The victim was lifted up, and a messenger dispatched with a note to young Jack Harkaway to forward the orphan's cash-box.

In a short time the man returned, and the box was at once handed over to the bashaw, who having received the key, helped himself at once to double the sum he had demanded.

"Now I suppose I'm at liberty," said Mr. Figgins, glancing, wistfully at his cash box.

"Not just yet," returned the grasping judge, who having the money in his possession, was resolved to appropriate as much as possible.

"I'm inclined to think that you have been unjustly accused. I therefore permit you as a particular favour to avenge yourself upon Bosja. You must fight with him, kill him if you can, and I shall not hold you responsible."

The orphan looked unutterable things at this permission, whilst Bosja, who was a great coward at heart, turned all manner of colours.

"Your mightiness----" he began.

But the bashaw cut him short.

"You are fined fifty sequins for speaking when you are not spoken to,"

he cried; "treasurer, collect the money."

But Bosja had not a single coin left.

"Then he must go to prison," said the judge, sternly; "but not till after he has fought with the man he has falsely accused."

"I've no wish to fight. I want to go home," exclaimed Mr. Figgins.

"You're fined another fifty sequins," remarked the bashaw, blandly; "for not wishing to fight when I say you are to fight."

Whilst the judge dipped once more into the cash-box, the executioner went for weapons, and shortly reappeared with a couple of enormous scimitars, which he placed in the hands of the combatants.

A dead silence fell upon the eager crowd, who longed for the fight to commence.

"Are you ready?" demanded the bashaw.

"N-n-n-no, I'm not," faltered the orphan, whose ferocity had entirely disappeared with the loss of his flute; "I'm not a fighting man, and I don't like fighting with swords--I might get hurt. I would rather forgive Mr. Bosja than kill him."

His opponent evinced his satisfaction at this humane proposal by a ghastly smile.

But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with terror, and he said nothing.

But the bashaw was not to be thwarted in this manner.

"It is my will that you fight," he said, in a determined tone; "and fight you must, or each find a subst.i.tute."

The combatants strained their eyes eagerly amongst the crowd.

But no one volunteered to take their places.

Suddenly Mr. Figgins caught sight of a black figure that was pantomiming to him very eagerly in the distance.

A flash of joy rushed across his troubled spirit.

It was Tinker.

He could judge by his actions he was ready to take his place, and therefore he exclaimed aloud--

"I've found a subst.i.tute."

"Where?" demanded the bashaw, looking intensely disappointed.

"Here de dustibute," shouted Tinker, in reply; "make way, you whitey-brown Turkies, an' let de rale colour come forrards."

As he spoke, he elbowed his way through the crowd till he reached the s.p.a.ce in front of the seat of justice.

Here he shook hands with Mr. Figgins, and nodded as familiarly to the bashaw as though he had been a particular friend of his.

"What son of Jehanum is that?" growled the bashaw, scowling fiercely at Tinker.

"He is my subst.i.tute," exclaimed the grocer.

"Is he? And do you know what you must pay to be allowed to make use of him?" asked the bashaw.

"No, you old thief, I don't," said Figgins, softly; then aloud--"how much?"

"Two hundred sequins," said the judge.

"Oh, certainly," a.s.sented the orphan; "no doubt you intend to empty my box before you let me go."

This restored the complacency of the bashaw, who, having by this last demand used up all the grocer's cash, finished by taking possession of his cash-box to carry it away in.

Having locked it safely up, he cried--

"I wish to be amused. Let the fight commence at once."

Tinker received a scimitar from the hands of Mr. Figgins, and flourished it gaily round his head.

Bosja, who could not afford to pay for a subst.i.tute, made a great effort to pull himself together for the strife, but he looked very white, and his teeth chattered audibly.

"Now, slaves, begin," exclaimed the judge.