Hearing that a Frank was to be tried, the court was crowded.
At the appointed hour Mark Antony Figgins, looking particularly doleful, was conducted from his cell to the presence of the administrator of the law.
Osman, the ruling bashaw, although a Turk, was a regular Tartar to deal with.
He administered plenty of law, but very little justice; if the latter was required, money was the bashaw's idol, and it must be handsomely paid for.
As soon as the parties were brought in, the judicial potentate eyed them sternly for some time.
Then he said—
"Which is the plaintiff?"
"I am," exclaimed Bosja.
"No; I am," exclaimed Mr. Figgins.
"What bosh is this?" cried the bashaw; "you can't both be plaintiffs."