And he strode along with the air of the heavy man in a transpontine melodrama.

The marvellous exhibition of endurance aroused the phlegmatic Turk to real enthusiasm.

"Mole Pasha," he exclaimed, "you are a great hero. I shall seek an audience of his highness the Sultan, and beg of him for you some mark of distinction, perhaps even to confer upon you the distinguished order of the gla.s.s b.u.t.ton."

"The gla.s.s bottle would be more in your excellency's way, Mole Pasha,"

suggested Tinker.

And henceforth when Mole walked abroad, the population was aroused.

"Behold the bravest Frank that ever lived," they said. "He is a great hero."

CHAPTER Lx.x.x.

THE SNAKE IN THE GRa.s.s--THE POISONED DAGGER.

As young Jack was sauntering through the streets of the town one day, he fancied that he was being followed by a man who was dressed in a semi-Oriental garb, but whose head was shaded by a broad-brimmed hat.

Jack was not given to fear without a cause, yet he certainly did feel uncomfortable now.

At first he thought of turning round and facing the man sharply.

But this, he reflected, might lead to a rupture.

A rupture was to be most carefully avoided.

He was determined, however, to a.s.sure himself that he was followed.

With this view, he made a circuitous tour of the city.

Still the man was there like his very shadow.

"This is unendurable," muttered Jack.

So he drew up short.

Grasping a pistol, which he carried in his pocket, with a nervous grip, he waited for the man to come up.

But the man did not come up.

He disappeared suddenly, at the very moment that Jack was expecting to come into collision with him.

How strange!

Jack was not conscious of having an enemy--at least not one in that part of the world.

"Very strange," he muttered; "very strange!"

And brooding over this episode, Jack wended his way thoughtfully homewards.

"Hah!"

Crossing the very threshold of his residence, Jack was suddenly and swiftly a.s.saulted.

The same semi-Oriental figure had stolen stealthily up behind him, and with a murderous-looking knife dealt him a sharp, swift blow.

Jack bounded forward, and turned round pistol in hand, but so nearly fatal had been the blow that Jack's coat was ripped down the back.

"Hah!"

The a.s.sa.s.sin was marvellously nimble; although Jack made a dart after him pistol in hand, meaning to wreak summary vengeance upon him, the ruffian contrived to vanish again--mysteriously.

Strangely disturbed by this, Jack went home and related to his friends what had taken place.

"This is a rum go," said Mr. Mole; "you have been mistaken for somebody else."

"So I suppose," returned Jack.

"What's to be done?" said Harry Girdwood.

"Lodge information with the police at once, I should say," suggested Mole.

"By all means."

"What was he like?"

"I could scarcely see," was Jack's reply, "for he was gone like a phantom."

"Perhaps it was a phantom," suggested Harry slily.

"I should be half inclined to think so," said Jack, "if I hadn't received this solid proof that he was flesh and blood."

Saying which, he turned round and displayed the back of his coat, ripped open by the a.s.sa.s.sin's dagger.

"Well," exclaimed Mole aghast, "that is cool."

"I'm glad you think so," returned Jack, "for I can tell you it was much too warm for me."

"Well, we shall soon leave this wretched place, I hope," said Mole, "for I don't feel safe of my life. I am expecting every day to be had up again before the pasha."

"We must always be on the watch now," said Harry Girdwood; "constant vigilance will he necessary to avert danger."