"I beg on my prostrate knees," he repeated, bending forward and clasping his fat hands together, "that your Honour will embody La'yer Rayner in your own redoubtable person to me, your humble slave, and will henceforward defend me from all the plots and persecutions of my town enemies who buzz about me like evil flies, who are many and strong as the sands of the sea. And for this end your humble slave will now proceed to touch your palm."
Fixing his beady eyes on Mark he slowly drew out a well-filled silken purse through whose meshes pieces of gold glittered. He bent low before the Assistant's chair and laid the purse by his side on the table. The young civilian flushed, then turned pale. He had heard of the offering of bribes by natives, but surely it was early in his day for such an incident to happen! Did he look such a vulnerable person, he asked himself with a sense of dismay. Rising from his chair, he folded his hands behind his back, and said in a tone of repressed anger: "Put that purse in your pocket instantly. Englishmen don't take bribes!"
The Mussulman's amber face assumed a blacker hue. For a moment he stood as if he felt himself trapped, then licking his red lips quickly, his beady eyes shot fiery glances at the young man as he muttered in reply: "No, but half-castes do!"
It was the first bearing of the cross which Mark Cheveril had to undergo. He waxed a shade paler, and seemed about to speak, then he checked himself and silently pointed to the door.
The man's demeanour instantly changed.
"Pardon your humble slave! He has been misled," he stammered. "By holy Mahomet, I'll make the dog that misled me pay for this!"
Mark still pointed silently to the door. Zynool cast one long searching glance upon him, regarding him evidently with roused curiosity from top to toe. Then, salaaming profoundly, he sighed noisily and waddled out with a baulked expression on his cunning face.
CHAPTER XIII.
After Zynool's departure, Mark sat down to examine certain blue books which the Judge recommended for his perusal, but the late interview rankled. He could not concentrate his attention, and thought, with a sigh, how speedily he had been brought face to face with one of the unpleasant realities of official life. Even his vanity had received a shock. Did he look so clearly on the surface a man likely to have his price? The idea was revolting. Should he tell the Collector what had occurred or would it be best to bury the incident fathoms deep, was the query which haunted him throughout the remainder of the office hours.