“But I have a letter from one of the slaves to his uncle, a rich merchant in Swearah. The uncle will pay the money.”
“The slave has lied to you. He has no uncle there, and I can soon convince you that such is the case. There is now staying in this village a Mogador Jew, who is acquainted with every infidel merchant in the city, and he also understands the languages they speak. Let him see the letter.”
Anxious to be convinced of whether he was being deceived or not, Bo Muzem readily agreed to this proposition; and in company with the grazier, he repaired to the house where the Jew was residing.
The latter, on being shown Harry’s letter, and asked to whom it was addressed, replied—
“To any English merchant in Mogador.”
“Bismillah!” exclaimed Bo Muzem. “All English merchants cannot be uncles to the young dog who wrote this letter!”
“Tell me,” added he, “did you ever hear of an English merchant in Mogador named ‘For-God-sake-bias?’”
The Jew smiled, and with some difficulty restraining an inclination to laugh outright at the question, gave the Arab a translation of the words, “For God’s sake, buy us.”
Bo Muzem was now satisfied that he had been “sold.”
“I shall get no further,” said he, after they had parted with the Jew. “I shall return to my partners. We shall kill the Christian dog who wrote the letter and sell his two companions for what we can get for them.”