He had, in the meantime, thought of a _ruse_.

Then, marching up boldly to the lieutenant, he addressed him--

"I know I fully deserve your dreadful but just sentence and quietly will I submit myself to the torture; but, I entreat you, do not compel me to remove my stockings, which, among my countrymen, is considered the deepest degradation and never inflicted, save upon criminals sentenced to death."

"H'm!" said the lieutenant, somewhat moved. "For my part, I would just as soon suffer the infliction with bare feet as through a thin layer of stocking."

"But my feelings as an Englishman," pleaded Mole.

"Well, be it as you wish. Take off your shoes only; but, Hamed, remember to give it to him a little harder, to make up for the stockings."

"Great lieutenant, I will obey. The force of the blows shall be doubled."

At this moment, Mole saw the eyes of Tinker fixed upon him, and he knew he should yet get help.

Mole then submitted himself resignedly to the hands of the torturers.

Binding him like the others, hand and foot, they tied him to the frame, and the chief castigator, rolling up his sleeves, proceeded to belabour Mole's soles with terrific energy.

The blows sounded fearfully loud and sharp, and each was given with such vigour that even the framework creaked under it.

But the victim showed no pain or terror.

He did not cry out, nor flinch in the least, nor strive to mitigate the pain by twisting about.

Thus ten heavy blows were given, and the inflictor paused.

A murmur of astonishment ran round the a.s.sembly.

"Truly the Frank hath wondrous strength and courage," exclaimed the lieutenant.

"Englishman are generally brave," said an old Turk; "but I never knew one who would silently undergo such pain as this."

"Make the next ten blows harder."

The second man, therefore, in his turn, rained down upon the inanimate soles of the ex-pasha, such fearful blows as resounded through the place, and made many spectators shudder.

But still the victim neither flinched nor cried out.

"_Bismallah!_ this is truly wonderful, that a giaour so old, so grey, so apparently feeble, should thus bear so terrible a punishment.

Harder, Selim. Now do you not feel it, prisoner?"

"Of course I feel it, great pasha; it even tickles my beard," replied Mole; "but heaven hath given me power to withstand this terrible torture, and the high spirit of an Englishman forbids me to cry out."

"I could scarcely have believed it, did I not behold it with my own eyes," said the puzzled lieutenant. "Selim, a little harder."

"Your eminence, the tale of blows is fully counted," said the man, laying aside his cane.

"Five-and-twenty already? I was so interested with the prisoner's fort.i.tude, that I didn't count them. He has not suffered enough yet; give him five blows more."

"I am ready," said Mole, stroking his false beard. "Remember, an Englishman fears not pain. Strike away."

And he stretched out his cork legs to their full extent.

Five blows more were given, but had no more effect than the previous ones.

"By the holy kaaba! but this amounts to a miracle," exclaimed the lieutenant. "I shall begin to respect the infidel for his heroism.

Hamed, give him ten more blows; no, make it twenty, and do you, Selim, a.s.sist. That will be fifty; just double the amount of the sentence. If he flinches not this time, he will deserve being let off altogether."

And in truth, it would, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, have wanted well-nigh the strength of Samson or Hercules to endure such torture as now came upon the schoolmaster.

Hamed and Selim, each armed with a heavy rattan, rained down alternately thick and fast, a shower of blows upon Mole's wonderful feet, which even shook the room, but still couldn't shake Mole's resolution.

He writhed not, nor uttered cry, and showed not the faintest sign of giving way.

On the contrary, he jeered at the men.

"Bah! see how an Englishman can bear pain," exclaimed Mole.

And to the intense astonishment of the Turks, he plucked out a good-sized handful of hair from his beard and threw before the officer.

"Allah is--ah!"

And the Turk stopped in the midst of his speech to spit out a second handful which Mole, with good aim, had thrown into his mouth.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed the bystanders, as Mole tore away at his false beard till he had nearly stripped the framework, while the tormentors worked away at his feet with redoubled energy.

"Stop, stop," cried the pasha, for the men in their energy had exceeded even the fifty blows without knowing it, and seemed to be going on _ad libitum_, "stop; unbind and release the prisoner."

The two men, who were bathed in perspiration through their exertions, accordingly removed Mole's bonds, a.s.sisted him to his feet, and helped him put on his shoes.

"Prisoner," said the lieutenant, "your heroic conduct this day has won my deepest admiration. Be seated, and rest your poor feet, and then tell me something of your history."

"My poor feet will still support me, therefore I will not be seated, but standing thus," said Mole, stamping his cork feet on the ground, "will show you something wonderful."

CHAPTER LXXIX.

MOLE PASHA ASTONISHES THE NATIVES STILL MORE--THE ORDER OF THE GLa.s.s b.u.t.tON.

"I am all attention," replied the lieutenant.

"I came from a land," said Mr. Mole, with a grandiloquent flourish, "where we despise physical suffering."

The august Turks around were filled with wonder and with admiration for the speaker.