“He swore it was his,” said the magistrate anxiously. “And so you swore falsely?” thundered the Caliph to the merchant, who stood pale and trembling before him.
“Allah! Allah!” cried he. “Of course I do not wish to say anything against the Grand Vizier, but the purse is really mine and the good-for-nothing Said stole it. I would give a thousand gold pieces if he were here on the spot.”
“What did you do with this Said then?” asked the Caliph. “Where must we send to bring him here?”
“I sent him to a desert island,” said the magistrate.
“Oh! Said, my son, my son!” cried the unhappy father.
“Then he confessed his crime?” asked the Caliph.
The magistrate turned pale, and said unsteadily, “If I remember rightly he did in the end.”
“Then you are not quite certain?” the Caliph went on in severe tones. “Very well, then we will ask him himself. Said, stand forth, and you, Kalum-Bek, pay me at once a thousand gold pieces because he is here on the spot.”
Kalum and the magistrate thought it must be a ghost. They fell to their knees crying, “Mercy, mercy.” Benezar was half fainting with joy and fell into the arms of his lost son.
Then in firm, hard tones the Caliph asked: “Magistrate, here is Said, now will you affirm that he confessed his crime?”