Jack and Harry did not return; probably they had been secured by the enemy.
Mole gave himself up for lost.
He was surrounded by an infuriated crowd, still shouting "Down with the impostor! Death to the infidel who dares to wear the colours of the blessed Prophet!"
It seems, indeed, that the luckless Mole would have fallen a sacrifice to Lynch law, but at this moment the real Moley Pasha, with his troops, entered the hall, and at once commanded the infuriated crowd to stop, and relinquish their victim.
"Now," said the real Moley Pasha, "bring before me the stranger who has so audaciously assumed my title and dignity."
Poor Mole, now a trembling "prisoner at the bar," was brought, bound and guarded by soldiers, before the magnate whom of late he had defied.
"Prisoner," said the pasha, sternly, "what do you dare to say for yourself in defence of the crime you have committed?"
Mr. Mole, in the deepest fright and humility, made shift to stammer in Turkish—
"I don't defend it at all; I—I was egged on to it by that young Jack Harkaway."
"What's Harkaway?" now inquired the pasha.