'The Sheykh of the Thieves must be the greatest rogue. I do not care to have to do with him.'
'You err,' remarked Suleymân, with dignity. 'Your error has its root in the conviction that a thief is evil. He may be evil as an individual; all men are apt to be who strive for gain; but as a member of a corporation he has pride and honour. With Europeans, it is just the opposite. They individually are more honourable than their governments and corporations. The Sheykh of the Thieves, I can assure you, is the soul of honour. I go at once to see him. He can clear Rashîd.'
'If he does that, he is the best of men!' exclaimed my servant.
An hour later one of the hotel men, much excited, came to tell me that some soldiers were approaching, who had caught the thief. The host and all his family ran out into the hall. Rashîd and all the servants came from kitchen purlieus. Four soldiers entered with triumphant exclamations, dragging and pushing forward—Suleymân!
The prisoner's demeanour had its usual calm.
'I have regained the belt,' he called to me. 'These men were watching near the house, and found it on me. They would not hear reason. The man who stole the belt—a Greek—has left the city. He gave the Sheykh the belt, but kept the money.'
The soldiers, disappointed, let him go.
'How dost thou know all that?' inquired their leader.
'The Headman of the Thieves informed me of it.'
'Ah, then, it is the truth,' the soldier nodded. 'He is a man of honour. He would not deceive thee.'