"He asked me," continued the host, "that master of ten policemen asked, 'What sort of man is that black one who sits two hours over a handful of dates?' I replied: 'A very honorable man, the lord Phut.' 'Whence comes he?' 'From the country of the Hittites, from the city of Harran; he has a good house there of three stories, and much land.' 'Why has he come hither?' 'He has come,' I replied, 'to receive five talents from a certain priest, talents lent by his father.'
"And dost Thou know, worthy lord," continued the innkeeper, "what that decurion answered? 'Asarhadon,' said he, 'I know that Thou art a faithful servant of his holiness, Thou hast good food and pure wines; for this reason I warn thee, look to thyself. Have a care of foreigners who make no acquaintances, who avoid wine and every amusement, and are silent. That Phut of Harran may be an Assyrian spy.' The heart died in the when I heard this. But these words do not affect thee," said he, indignantly, when he saw that the terrible suspicion of espionage did not disturb the calm face of the Hittite.
"Asarhadon," said the guest, after a while, "I confided to thee myself and my property. See to it, therefore, that my bags and my casket are returned to me, for in the opposite case I shall complain of thee to that same chief of tea who is eating the goose which was intended for thee."
"Well, but permit me to pay the thieves only fifteen per cent of the value of the things," cried the host.
"Thou hast no right to pay."
"Give them even thirty drachmas."
"Not an uten."
"Give the poor fellows even ten drachmas."
"Go in peace, Asarhadon, and beg the gods to return thee thy reason," answered the traveler, with the same unchanging calmness.
The host sprang up, panting from anger.