The oft-repeated dragging around on the rough ground was detrimental to the trowsers of the Judge, and he was obliged to have them half-soled before he again wore them.
When we were at the tomb of Ahmed, which contained a sarcophagus, covered with magnificent and costly shawls, and was surmounted with the turban of the defunct Sultan, our sceptical comrade, the “Doubter,” expressed a suspicion that the ruins of Ahmed were not in the box.
“These people are all liars,” said he, “and I don’t believe there ever was such a man.”
We tried to convince him that it was all right, and as he had paid for entering, he was at liberty to believe what he pleased.
“Tell the man to open the place up,” said the “Doubter” to our guide, “and let us see what there is inside.”
The guide tried to inform him, that such a proceeding would be contrary to custom, but the “Doubter” was obstinate and determined to have things his own way.
“I am bound to find out for myself,” he continued, and suiting the action to the word, he endeavored to lift one of the shawls that covered the sarcophagus.
The moment his purpose became evident, the custodians seized his hands, and half a dozen Moslems who had been standing round made a vigorous forward movement.
They would have ejected him in a moment, had not our guide interfered, and possibly they would have brained him.
It is a serious matter to touch things in a mosque, and this experience taught the “Doubter” a lesson which he remembered at least an hour. We visited the tombs of several Turkish Sultans, and finally reached the mosque of Saint Sophia, a little before noon, so as to make a hasty survey of the lower part of the edifice before the people assembled for prayer.