"Do?" echoed the Jew, exultingly. "If it ish true dat de closhe makes de man, you vill do excellent vell, and de people vill not now run after you."
Mr. Figgins having settled his account with the Hebrew clothier, and paid just three times as much as he ought to have done, went out again with considerable confidence, looking as gaudy in his mixture of bright colours as a macaw.
"No one will dare to jeer at me now," he persuaded himself.
But he was mistaken.
Hardly had he taken a half dozen steps when his brilliant costume attracted great notice.
"What a splendid Turk!" cried some.
"Who is that magnificent bashaw?" asked others, as he strutted past.
No one knew, and upon a nearer examination it was seen that the "splendid Turk" and "magnificent bashaw" was no Turk at all.
Indignation seized upon those who had a moment before been filled with admiration.
"Impostor, unbelieving dog!" shouted the enraged populace. "He is an accursed Giaour, in the dress of a follower of the Prophet."