"Behold," pursued Mole, picking up the skewer.
He passed it fairly through his calf, and stood there with his foot firmly planted on the ground, gazing about him like another "monarch of all he surveyed."
"Look again."
And Mole took up a large nail, and hammered it into his foot, so that he was pinned to the floor.
"Allah be praised!" again shouted the Turks.
"One more proof," he said, disdainfully.
He picked up another dagger, and pushed it resolutely into the ill-used leg.
At the same time he held the calf with his left hand, in which he concealed, with considerable dexterity, the sponge which Tinker had brought him.
Blood now trickled slowly through Mr. Mole's fingers, and ran down his legs and feet.
A thrill of terror passed through the assemblage.