Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks Part 57

The walls of Alla-hissar gleamed in the noontide heat.

The air was heavy with sleep, which weighed upon all living things, and made them seek shelter from the burning sun.

All was still in the city.

It seemed as if the spirit of death brooded over all the habitations.

Yet there were some awake at that dreary hour.

Gathered together at one of the princ.i.p.al houses in secret conclave were some of the chief Turks of the province.

In spite of the heat, the heavy curtains covered the doorways.

The door was shaded, and the a.s.sembly spoke in subdued tones.

At length Ibrahim Bey, a grave old Turk, subtle and resolute, arose.

"It is sacred then, friends," he said, looking round at the a.s.sembly; "the deed must be done, and the hour is at hand."

"Such is the will of Allah," was the reply of the conspirators.

"'Tis decided then, that Moley Pasha, our new governor, has, since he has a.s.sumed power, done all he could to destroy our old customs, and introduce the manners of the infidel Franks, therefore he must die."

"He must die," murmured the a.s.sembly.

"Allah's will be done," said old Ibrahim, turning up his eyes piously; "but by whose hand shall the blow be struck? Who will take upon himself the dangerous deed?"

Up rose Abdullah, the interpreter, formerly of Mr. Mole's party.

"I will do it," he said, in a firm voice; "he dies ere another hour has sped. I will risk the deadly danger, if you will guarantee, that if I succeed, I shall be rewarded."

"That is but just," said Ibrahim Bey. "Should it be his sacred majesty's pleasure that I succeed Moley, a post of honour shall be the guerdon of your bravery."

"I accept the terms," said Abdullah; "I know a secret way into the palace, I have a disguise and a dagger; doubt not my courage for the rest. Wait here, my friends, and ere another hour strikes, I shall return to say the deed is done."

He glided from the room, leaving the others wondering at the cool audacity with which he undertook so desperate and criminal a deed.

The angel of sleep had spread her wings over the seraglio of Moley Pasha.

The veiled beauties of the harem had retired to their luxurious rooms.

The pasha slept soundly and peacefully.

Well for him had his dreams warned him against the peril that hovered over him like a black shadow.

For the form of a woman, tall, thin, closely-veiled, glided along the pa.s.sages of the harem.

Her steps gave forth no sound, and she disturbed not the sleeping servants.

She glided like a smooth serpent, or an invisible spirit; her presence was unseen, unfelt, unsuspected.

She enters the inner chamber where lies the unconscious pasha.

She bends over him, she draws forth a knife, slender, tapering to a point almost like a needle.

The pasha still slept on, the fountain outside made sweet music, heard through the curtains and windows.

A smile played upon the pasha's lips.

He was dreaming, perchance, of the rosy bowers and the dark-eyed _houris_ of Paradise.

Suddenly the knife descended, there was the flash of a moment, while it hovered like a hawk over its quarry, the next instant it was buried in the pasha's heart.

A deep groan was the only effort of expiring nature.

The fiercely flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and a part of the face of the murderer were now exposed; the dress was that of a woman, but the form and features were those of Abdullah the interpreter.

For a moment he stood gazing on his deed, then lifted some tapestry which concealed a small door, and disappeared.

What cry was that which startles the seraglio from its siesta?

What combined lamentation disturbs the whole palace with its harrowing intensity?

All the inmates of the establishment have been rudely awakened from their slumbers.

It was the pasha's favourite wife who had broken in upon the privacy of her lord, and she had found him dead.

Dead, plainly by the a.s.sa.s.sin's dagger, but what a.s.sa.s.sin, none could even suspect.

None could conjecture by what means any stranger could have obtained entrance and exit.

Then arose that dreadful wail of despair, that beating of b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and tearing of tresses.

The news soon spread, and the whole town was in a fever of commotion.

Who had done the deed?

Who was to be Moley Pasha's successor?

The conspirators played their parts well.

Ibrahim Bey pretended to be terribly amazed and shocked: he refused to be placed at the head of affairs until the sultan's will should be known, and he offered rewards for the discovery of the a.s.sa.s.sin.

A council, consisting of Ibrahim and others, was now established to temporarily rule the town.