The Nubians were surrendered to Ali’s followers, whilst the dalal’s two assistants advanced to settle accounts with the corsair.
“Wait wait,” said he, “is not the name of Sakr-el-Bahr good warranty?”
“The inviolable law is that the purchase money be paid ere a slave leaves the market, O valiant Ali.”
“It shall be observed,” was the impatient answer, “and I will so pay before they leave. But I want others yet, and we will make one account an it please thee. That fellow yonder now. I have orders to buy him for my captain.” And he indicated Lionel, who stood at Rosamund’s side, the very incarnation of woefulness and debility.
Contemptuous surprise flickered an instant in the eyes of the dalal. But this he made haste to dissemble.
“Bring forth that yellow-haired infidel,” he commanded.
The corsairs laid hands on Lionel. He made a vain attempt to struggle, but it was observed that the woman leaned over to him and said something quickly, whereupon his struggles ceased and he suffered himself to be dragged limply forth into the full view of all the market.
“Dost want him for the oar, Ali?” cried Ayoub-el-Samin across the quadrangle, a jest this that evoked a general laugh.
“What else?” quoth Ali. “He should be cheap at least.”
“Cheap?” quoth the dalal in an affectation of surprise. “Nay, now. ’Tis a comely fellow and a young one. What wilt thou give, now? a hundred philips?”