I had opened a conversation with one, who I was informed was an Armenian bishop; and had already made him understand how thankful he ought to be for being thus noticed by a true believer, when one of the much dreaded attendants rode by us, and in him I recognized the man who had endeavoured to palm off a mûtî upon me, upon my first introduction to the mollah Nadân. My heart leapt into my mouth at the sight of him. The chief priest's ghost, had it appeared, could not have frightened me more. I turned my head quickly on one side, but he passed on without heeding me; so for this time I was let off only with the fright; but I resolved to return to my humble station again, and forthwith left the bishop to his own meditations.
On the following day we were to pass through the defiles infested by the Cûrdish banditti, when every one would be too much taken up with his own safety to think of me. Once having passed them, we should no longer be in the Persian territory, and I might then claim protection of the Turks, in case I were discovered and seized.
On that eventful day, a day well remembered in the annals of my adventurous life, the caravan wore a military appearance. All those who possessed anything in the form of a weapon brought it forth and made a display. The whole scene put me in mind of a similar one which I have recorded in the first pages of my history; when, in company with Osman Aga, we encountered an attack from the Turcomans. The same symptoms of fear showed themselves on this occasion as on that; and I am honest enough to own that time had not strengthened my nerves, nor given me any right to the title of lion-eater.
The whole caravan marched in compact order, marshalled by a chaoush and by the conductor, who, with the servants of the chief priest's wife, formed a sort of vanguard to the main body. I, who had my own safety to consult for more reasons than one, huddled myself among the crowd, and enjoyed the idea that I was encumbered with no other property than the money in my girdle.
We were proceeding in silence; nothing was heard save the bells of the caravan, and I was deep in thought in what manner I might dispose of my ninety-five tomauns, on our arrival at Bagdad; when, turning up my eyes, I perceived the conductor and a well-equipped Persian riding towards me.
The conductor pointed with his hand to me, and said to his companions, 'hem een est, this is even he!'
'By the beard of Ali!' thought I, 'my good fortune has turned its back upon me.'
I looked at the conductor's companion, whom I instantly discovered to be the very Abdul Kerim, from whom I had extracted the one hundred tomauns, at the village of Seidabad, by means of the letter which I had written in the name of the deceased chief priest.
I was about giving myself up for lost, when the conductor relieved me a little, by saying, 'You are the last man who joined our caravan: perhaps you can tell us upon what part of the frontier Kelb Ali Khan, the robber, is said to be at present.'
I answered him in a great state of perturbation; but kept my eyes fixed upon Abdul all the while, who also began to stare at me with those penetrating eyes of his, which almost turned my heart inside out. He continued looking at me like one in doubt, whilst I endeavoured to skulk away; but at length appearing to recollect himself, he exclaimed, 'I have it, I have it! it is the very man; he it was who laughed at my beard and stole the hundred tomauns.' Then addressing himself to the bystanders, he said, 'If you want a thief, there is one. Seize him in the name of the Prophet!'