“It is true. I know that man—I know him well! He takes good care to avoid me. I was told by my friend, who had brought the girls from the interior, that there was among them one very beautiful maiden whom he hoped to sell to Hafsa Pasha for a handsome price.”
Nadia shivered again.
“To think that I could even talk with a monster who buys human beings like cattle!” she exclaimed.
“I have contemplated seeking the opportunity to meet Hafsa Pasha when he comes for the Circassian maiden,” said the sheik. “It is possible that I may be there.”
“It seems to me,” observed Dick, “that you have no particularly friendly feeling toward Mr. Hafsa.”
“I have no reason to feel kindly toward him,” confessed the Arab, in a tone of much bitterness. “He once did my younger brother a great wrong. It has been truly said that Ras al Had never forgets, and this wrong he remembers. Some day Hafsa Pasha shall suffer for it, even as he caused my brother to suffer.”
“I don’t like to be inquisitive,” said Dick; “but my curiosity is aroused, and I wonder how he wronged your brother.”
“My brother sold him a cargo of fine rugs, silks, and many precious stones. Hafsa Pasha is no true Mohammedan. He has lived much in the Western countries. Otherwise he would not have denied the price he owed for the goods he had received. He was powerful in a way, and my brother disappeared. I demanded of Hafsa Pasha what had become of my brother, but he swore he knew not. More than a year later I found my brother, a slave and dying far beyond Bagdad, even near to Yezd, which is in the Great Salt Desert. With his last words my brother declared that he believed he was carried into slavery through the plotting and command of Hafsa Pasha, who sought thus to get him out of the way. Thus, you see, Hafsa Pasha escaped payment of the just debt he owed. There was no real proof, but I am satisfied that my brother was right. I have sought diligently to obtain the proof, that I might bring Hafsa Pasha to justice. Even though I have failed in my efforts, never once have I faltered in my resolve to bring punishment on the evildoer.”
There was a sort of grim earnestness and intensity in the quiet words of the old sheik, and Dick felt that Hafsa Pasha had made a very bitter and dangerous enemy.
“Well, I hope you corner the old rascal in the end,” said the boy. “But we must get back to the bazaars. Dunbar and the professor will be tearing the city up in search of us.”