Pietro’s sister-in-law unveiled before the Camera.
One man I noticed who had not spoken was fingering the hilt of his knife, as though itching to join in the fray.
“I’m going out of this,” I told Palok, whereupon he only laughed.
“There’s really nothing to fear, signore. It is always so. They ask double, and Salko is teaching the fellow manners. You are a foreigner, and you don’t understand.”
I admitted that I did not.
The argument continued, and in the end the fat-faced eunuch was bundled out by Salko into the dirty alley and his goods thrown after him.
Nobody smiled. Such treatment seemed usual, and on the following day I bought the dresses.
The next was a little old Turk with a long white beard, who had an old silver ornament for sale, one of those triangular boxes which women wear round their necks containing scraps of the Koran, supposed to protect them from the influence of the Evil Eye.
Though he came meek and humble, Salko glared at him. No. The Englishman was his guest, and he would see that only what was just was paid. He took the ornament from me, and weighing it in his hand, judged its worth. Two other men agreed, and the old man, without being consulted, was handed the money and told to be gone.
Assuredly business methods are quaint in the town we Europeans call Scutari.