XIII.

That night I went in search of Paul, and found him standing silent and

alone in the corner of a drawing-room at one of the embassies. There was

a great reception and a dance, and all the diplomats had turned out

officially to see that portion of the native Pera society which is

invited on such occasions.

There is a brilliancy about such affairs in Constantinople which is

hardly rivaled elsewhere. The display of jewels is something wonderful,

for the great Fanariote families are still rich, in spite of the

devastations of the late war, and the light of their hereditary diamonds

and pearls is not hidden under a bushel. There is beauty, too, of the

Oriental and Western kind, and plenty of it. The black eyes and

transparently white complexions of the Greek ladies, their raven hair

and heavy brows, their magnificent calm and their languid attitudes,

contrast strangely with the fair women of many countries, whose

husbands, or fathers, or brothers, or uncles are attached to the

different embassies. The uniforms, too, are often superb, and the

display of decorations is amazing. The conversation is an enlargement on

the ordinary idea of Babel, for almost every known language is spoken

within the limits of the ball-room.

I found Paul alone, with an abstracted expression on his face, as he

stood aside from the crowd, unnoticed in his corner.

"My dear fellow," I said, "I believe I may congratulate you."

"Upon what?" he asked, in some surprise.

"Let us get out of this crowd," I answered. "I have a letter from John

Carvel, which you ought to read."

We threaded the rooms till we reached a small boudoir, occupied only by

one or two couples, exceedingly interested in each other.

"Read that," said I. It was the best thing I could do for him, I

thought. He might be annoyed to find that I knew his secret, but he

could not fail to rejoice at the view John took of the engagement. His

face changed many times in expression, as he read the letter carefully.

When he had finished he was silent and held it in his hand.

"What do you think of all this?" I asked.

"She never was mad. Or if she was, this is the strangest recovery I ever

heard of. So she is coming here with the rest! And uncle John thinks me

a very fine fellow," he added with a laugh, meant to be a little

sarcastic, but which ended with the irrepressible ring of genuine

happiness.

"I congratulate you," I said. "I think the affair is as good as settled.

You have only to wait a few weeks, and they will be here. By the by, I

hope you do not mind Carvel's frankness in telling me all about it?"

"Not in the least," answered Paul, with a smile. "I believe you are the

best friend I have in the world, and you are his friend. You will do

good rather than harm."

"I hope so," said I. "But if any one had foretold a month ago that we

should all be together again so soon,--and here, too,--I could have

laughed at him."

"It is fate," answered Paul. "It would be better if it could be put off

until we reach the end of our search, especially as we seem to be nearer

the track than ever before. I am afraid that their arrival will hinder

us--or, at least, me--from working as hard as I would like."

"On the contrary," I replied, "I fancy you will work all the harder. I

have been talking to Balsamides about the watch. He feels sure that he

can catch the man who took it to Marchetto."

I explained to Paul the course Gregorios proposed to follow. He seemed

to think the chance was a poor one.

"I have been pursued by an idea ever since this morning," he said at

last. "I dare say you will think it very foolish, but I cannot get rid

of it. Do you remember the adventure in the Valley of Roses? I told you

about it at Carvel Place. Very well. I cannot help thinking that the

negro who took the watch to Marchetto was the one who accompanied those

two Turkish women. The man was exasperated. He probably knew us by

sight, for we had constantly met him and the lady with the thick

yashmak. They had often seen us come out of the Russian embassy. No

complaint was ever made against Alexander. It looks to me like a piece

of private vengeance."

"Yes," I assented, struck by the idea. "Besides, if the fellow had

succeeded in making away with your brother, it is natural that he should

have waited a long time before disposing of his jewelry."

"I wonder what became of the other things," said Patoff. "Alexander had

with him his Moscow cigarette case, he wore a gold chain with the watch,

and he had on his finger a ring with a sapphire and two diamonds in a

heavy gold band. If all those things have been disposed of, they must

have passed through the bazaar, probably through Marchetto's hands."

At this moment Balsamides Bey's pale, intelligent face showed itself at

the door. He came quickly forward on seeing us, and drew up a chair. I

told him in a few words what we had said. He smiled and twirled the end

of his brown mustache.

"There is something in that," he answered. "I fancy, too, that such a

fellow would first part with the chain, then with the cigarette case,

thirdly with the watch, and last of all with the ring, which he probably

wears."

"We must find out if Marchetto has sold the chain and the case for him,"

I said.

"Leave Marchetto to me," said Gregorios, confidently. "I will spend the

day with him to-morrow. Have you ever seen the negro since that affair

in the Valley of Roses?"

"Often," replied Paul, somewhat to my surprise. "He goes to Yeni Koej

every Thursday."

"You seem to have watched his movements," observed Balsamides, with a

smile of admiration. "Did you never tell Griggs?"

"No," said I, rather amazed.

"What would have been the use? I only watched the man because I fancied

he might be in some way connected with the matter, but it seemed so

absurd, until the finding of the watch made it look more probable, that

I never spoke of it."

"I am glad you have spoken of it now," said Gregorios. "It is probably

the key to the whole affair."

We talked on for a few minutes, and Paul told Balsamides that his mother

and the Carvels were coming, explaining his anxiety to hasten the search

so as to have something positive to show when they arrived. Then Paul

left us, and went to fulfill such social obligations as his position

imposed upon him. He was not a man to forget such things, even in times

of great excitement; and when he returned to Constantinople, his chief

had expressed the hope that Paul would not shut himself up, but would go

everywhere, as he had formerly done.

"This thing is beginning to interest me, Griggs," said Gregorios,

arching his eyebrows, and looking at me with a peculiar expression. "You

are doing more than I am, and I will not bear it," he added, with a

laugh. "What is my little bit of evidence about the staircase in Santa

Sophia compared to your discovery of the watch? I believe that in the

end Marchetto will be the _deus ex machina_ who will pull us out of all

our difficulties. I believe, too, that the best thing to do is to

confide the matter to him. I will go and see him to-morrow."

"He will never break his oath to the Lala," I answered.

"Perhaps not. But he has only sworn that he will not tell his name. He

has not sworn that he will not let me see him. So the fellow goes to

Yeni Koej on Thursday. Then he probably lives there, and chooses that day

to come to Stamboul. You have seen him going home. If he goes to

Stamboul, he most likely visits the bazaar early in the morning. If so,

I will catch him to-morrow, and to-morrow night I will tell you whether

he is the man or not. I will come upon Marchetto by accident, and he

will of course want to show me the Rhodes tapestry; then I will spend

the whole morning over the bargain, and I shall not miss the Lala if he

comes."

Balsamides was evidently fully roused, and as we smoked a last cigarette

in his rooms that night he talked enthusiastically of what he hoped to

accomplish on the next day. He kept his word, and very early in the

morning I heard him go out. From the sound of his walk I could tell that

he had no spurs, and was therefore in civilian's dress. He told me

afterwards what occurred.

At half past eight o'clock he was drinking a cup of coffee in

Marchetto's shop in the bazaar, and the Jew was displaying his tapestry,

and swearing that it was birindji, first quality. Balsamides wanted to

produce the impression that he intended to make a bargain.

"Kaldyr! Take it away!" he exclaimed. "It is rubbish."

Marchetto held the stuff up over his customer's head so that the light

from the little dome could fall upon it.

"There is not a hole in the whole length of it," he cried

enthusiastically. "It is perfect; not a thread loose. Examine it; is

there a patch? By my head, if you can find such another piece I will

give you a present."

"Is that a color?" asked Balsamides contemptuously. "Is that red? It is

pink. It is magenta. How much did you pay to have it made?"

"If I could make Rhodes tapestry, I should be as rich as the Hunkyar,"

retorted Marchetto, squatting on the matted floor and slowly drawing the

magnificent tapestry across his knees, so that Gregorios could see it to

advantage.

"Do you take me for a madman?" asked the aid-de-camp. "I do not care for

Rhodes tapestry. Kaldyr! If it were old, it would have holes in it."

"I have Rhodes full of holes, beautiful holes," observed Marchetto, with

a grin.

"Fox!" retorted Gregorios. "Do you think when I buy tapestry I want to

buy holes?"

"But this piece has none," argued the Jew.

"You want me to buy it. I can see you do. You are laughing at my beard.

You think I will give a thousand pounds for your rubbish?"

"Not a thousand pounds," said Marchetto. "It is worth a hundred and

fifty pounds, neither more nor less. Marchetto is an honest man. He is

not a Persian fox."

"No," answered Balsamides, "he is an Israelite of Saloniki. What have I

to do with such a fellow as you, who have the impudence to ask a hundred

and fifty liras for that rag?"

"How shall the lion and the lamb lie down together?" inquired Marchetto.

"And is it a rag?"

"I will tell you, Marchetto," said Gregorios, gravely. "The lion and the

lamb shall lie down together, when the lion lies down with the lamb

inside of him."

"Take, and eat!" exclaimed the ready Jew, holding out the Rhodes

tapestry to Balsamides.

"A man who has fasted throughout Ramazan shall not break his fast with

an onion," retorted Gregorios, laughing.

"Who eats little earns much," replied Marchetto. "Is it not the most

beautiful piece of Rhodes you ever saw, Effendim? There is not a Pasha

in Stamboul, nor in Pera, nor in Scutari, who possesses the like of it.

Only a hundred and fifty pounds; it is very cheap."

"I will give you ten pounds for it, if you will give me a good

backsheesh," said Gregorios at last. In Stamboul it is customary, when a

bargain of any importance is completed, for the seller to make the buyer

a present of some small object, which is called the backsheesh, or gift.

On hearing the offer, Marchetto looked slyly at Gregorios and laughed,

without saying anything. Then he slowly began to fold the tapestry

together.

"Ten pounds," said Balsamides. "Pek chok,--that is quite enough, and too

much."

"Yes, of course it is," answered the Jew, ironically. "I paid a hundred

and nineteen pounds and eighty-five piastres for it. I only ask fifteen

piastres profit. Small profits. Get rid of everything quickly. Who sells

cheaply sells soon; who sells soon earns much."

"I told you from the first that I did not want your Rhodes," said

Balsamides. "I came here to see what you had. Have you nothing else that

is good?"

"Everything Marchetto has is good. His carpets are all of silk, and of

the finest colors. His embroideries are the envy of the bazaar.

Marchetto has everything."

He did not finish folding the Rhodes, but thrust it aside upon the

matting, and began to pull down other stuffs and carpets from the

shelves. From the obstinacy Gregorios displayed, he really judged that

he meant to buy the tapestry, and to make a good bargain he would

willingly have turned everything in his little shop upside down.

Gregorios admired several pieces very much, whereupon the Jew threw them

aside in disgust, well knowing that his customer would not buy them. The

latter had now been an hour in the shop, and showed no signs of going

away. Marchetto returned to the original question.

"If it is worth so much, why do you not take it to one of the

embassies?" asked Balsamides at last. He had resolved that he would

prolong the discussion until twelve o'clock, judging that by midday the

negro would be on his way back to Yeni Koej, and that there would be no

further chance of seeing him. He therefore broached the subject of

Marchetto's trade with the foreigners, knowing that once upon this tack

the Jew would have endless stories and anecdotes to relate. But

Gregorios was not destined to stand in need of so much ingenuity. He

would never have made the attempt in which he was now engaged unless he

had anticipated success, and he was not surprised when a tall,

smooth-faced negro, of hideous countenance but exceedingly well dressed,

put his head into the shop. He saluted Gregorios and entered. Marchetto

touched his mouth and his fez with his right hand, but did not at first

rise from his seat upon the floor. Balsamides watched the man. He looked

about the shop, and then approached the old glass case in the corner. He

had hardly glanced at it when he turned and tried to catch Marchetto's

eye. The latter made an almost imperceptible motion of the head.

Gregorios was satisfied that the pantomime referred to the watch, which

was no longer in its place. He continued to talk with the Jew for a few

minutes, and then slowly rose from his seat.

"I see you have business with this gentleman," he said. "I have

something to do in the bazaar. I will return in half an hour."

The Lala seemed delighted, and politely made way for Gregorios to pass,

but Marchetto of course protested loudly that the negro's business could

wait. He accompanied Gregorios to the door, and with many inclinations

stood looking after him for a few moments. At a little distance

Gregorios pretended to be attracted by something exposed for sale, and,

pausing, looked furtively back. The Jew had gone in again. Then

Balsamides returned and entered a shop almost opposite to Marchetto's,

kept by another Spanish Hebrew of Saloniki, who made a specialty of

selling shawls,--a smart young fellow, with beady black eyes.

"Good morning, Abraham," he said. "Have you manufactured any new Kashmir

shawls out of old rags of borders and French imitations since I saw

you?"

Abraham smiled pleasantly, and began to unfold his wares. Before many

minutes the sound of angry voices was heard outside. Gregorios had

ensconced himself in a corner, whence he could see what went on without

being seen. The quarrelers were Marchetto and the Lala.

"Dog of a Jew!" screamed the black man in his high, cracked voice. "Will

you rob me, and then turn me out of your filthy den? You shall suffer

for it, you Saloniki beast!"

"Dog yourself, and son of a dog!" bellowed Marchetto, his big face

growing fiery red as he blocked the doorway with his bulky shoulders.

"Behold the gratitude of this vile wretch!" he cried, as though

addressing an audience. "Look at this insatiate jackal, this pork-eater,

this defiler of his father's grave! Oh! beware of touching what is

black, for the filth will surely rub off!"

Exasperated at the Jew's eloquent abuse, the Lala tried to push him back

into the shop, flourishing his light cane in his right hand. In a moment

a crowd collected, and the epithets of the combatants were drowned

amidst the jeers and laughter of the by-standers, delighted at seeing

the dandy keeper of a great harem in the clutches of the sturdy

Marchetto.

Abraham looked out, and then turned back to his customer.

"It is Selim," he said with a chuckle. "He has been trying to cheat

Marchetto again."

"Again?" repeated Gregorios, who had at last attained his end. "And who

is Selim, Abraham?"

"Selim? Everybody in the bazaar knows Selim, the most insolent,

avaricious, money-grabbing Lala in Stamboul. He is more like a Persian

than anything else. He is the Lala of Laleli Khanum Effendi, who lives

at Yeni Koej. They say she is a witch since her husband died," added

Abraham, lowering his voice.

"I have heard so," said Gregorios calmly. But in reality he was

triumphant. He knew now what had become of Alexander Patoff.

The noise outside was rapidly growing to an uproar. Gregorios slipped

quickly out of the shop and made his way through the crowd, for he felt

that it was time to put a stop to the quarrel. Many of the people knew

him, and knew that he was an officer and a man in authority; recognizing

him, they stopped yelling and made way for him.

"What is this?" he cried, violently separating Marchetto and the negro,

who were screaming insults at each other and shaking their fists in each

other's faces. "Stop this noise," he continued, "or I will send a score

of soldiers down to keep you in order. If the Lala is not satisfied, he

can go before the magistrate. So can Marchetto, if he likes.--Go!" he

said to the negro, pushing him away and scattering the crowd. "If you

have any complaints to make, go to the magistrate."

"Who are you?" asked the fellow, insolently.

"It is none of your business," answered Gregorios, dragging the man away

in the nervous grip of his white hand; then lowering his voice, he spoke

quickly in the man's ear: "Do you remember the Bairam, a year ago last

summer? If you are not quiet, I will ask you what became of the chain of

that watch, of the silver box, and especially of that beautiful ring

with the sapphire and two diamonds. Moreover, I may ask you what became

of a certain Frank Effendi, to whom they belonged,--do you understand?"

The man trembled in every joint, and a greenish livid hue seemed to

drive the blackness out of his face.

"I know nothing!" he gasped hysterically. But Balsamides let him go.

"Be quick," he said. "The watch will be paid for, but do not venture to

come to the bazaar again for some time. Fear nothing,--I have an eye to

your safety."

The last speech was perhaps somewhat ambiguous, but the man, being once

released, dived into a narrow passage and disappeared. The crowd of

Jews had shrunk into their shops again. Gregorios hastily concluded a

bargain with Abraham, and then returned to finish his conversation with

Marchetto. He found the latter mopping his forehead, and talking

excitedly to a couple of sympathetic Hebrews who had entered his place

of business. On seeing Balsamides they immediately left the shop.

"I have sent him away," said Gregorios. "He will not trouble you again."

"It is not my fault if the dog of a Turk is angry," answered Marchetto.

"I hardly know. He says he had left a watch with you to be sold, and

that now he can get neither the watch nor the money. You like to keep

your customers waiting when they have anything to sell, Marchetto. How

long is it since he gave you the watch?"

"On my head, it is only three weeks," answered the Jew. "How can I sell

a watch in three weeks and get the money for it? An Effendi took the

watch yesterday to show it to Vartan, the jeweler. He is a friend of

yours, Effendim; you first brought him here a long time ago. His name is

a strange name,--Cricks,--a very strange name, like the creaking of an

ungreased cart-wheel."

"Oh, did he take the watch? I will speak to him about it. He will pay

you immediately. How did the Lala come to have a watch to sell?"

"Allah bilir. He is always bringing me things to sell."

"Other things?"

"He showed me a gold chain one day in the winter. But it was not

curious, so he took it to a jeweler in the jeweler's tcharshee, who gave

him the value of the gold by weight."

"Who is he?" asked Gregorios, judging that he ought to show some

curiosity about the man.

"I cannot tell," answered the Jew.

"That means that you will not, of course. Very well. It is your affair.

Curiosity is the mother of deception. Will you give me the Rhodes for

ten pounds?"

They began to bargain again, but nothing was concluded on that day, for

Gregorios had got what he wanted, and was anxious to reach home and to

see me.

Patoff and I, as usual on Thursday, had made a trip up the Bosphorus,

and it was on this occasion that he first pointed out to me the hideous

negro. He proved to be the same man I had seen once before, on our very

first excursion. To-day he looked more ugly than ever, as he went ashore

at Yeni Koej. There was a malignity in his face such as I have never seen

equaled in the expression of any human being.

"I wonder what we shall find out," said Paul thoughtfully. "I have a

very strong belief that he is the fellow who sold the watch. If he is,

poor Alexander can have had but small chance of escape. Did you ever see

such a diabolical face? Of course it may be a mere fancy, but I cannot

rid myself of the thought."

"Balsamides will find out," I replied. "He can handle those fellows in

the bazaar as only an Oriental can."

It was not long before I heard the story of the morning's adventure from

Gregorios. I found him waiting for me and very impatient. He told his

tale triumphantly, dwelling on the fact that Marchetto himself had never

suspected that he was interested in the matter.

"And who is Laleli Khanum Effendi?" I inquired when he had finished.

"And how are we to get into her house?"

"You never heard of Laleli? You Franks think you know Constantinople,

but you know very little in reality. Laleli means 'a tulip.' A pretty

name, Tulip. Why not 'cabbage rose,' or 'artichoke,' or 'asparagus'?

Laleli is an extraordinary woman, my friend, and has been in the habit

of doing extraordinary things, ever since she poisoned her husband. She

is the sister of a very high and mighty personage, who has been dead

some time. She was married to an important officer in the government.

She was concerned in the conspiracy against Abdul Azis; she is said to

have poisoned her husband; she fell in her turn a victim to the

conspiracy against Murad, and, though not banished, lost all favor. She

managed to keep her fortune, however, which is very large, and she has

lived for many years in Yeni Koej. There are all sorts of legends about

her. Some say she is old and hideous, others declare that she has

preserved her beauty by witchcraft. There is nothing absurd which has

not been said of her. She certainly at one time exercised considerable

influence in politics. That is all I know of her except this, which I

have never believed: it has been said that more than one person has been

seen to enter her house, but has never been seen to leave it."

"How can one believe that?" I asked skeptically. "If it were really

known, her house would have been searched, especially as she is out of

favor."

"It is curious, however," said Gregorios, without contradicting me,

"that we should have traced Alexander Patoff's personal possessions to

her house."

"What shall we do next?" I asked.

"There are only two courses open. In the first place, we can easily

catch the Lala who sold the watch, and take him to a quiet place."

"Well, do you suppose he will tell us what he knows?"

"We will torture him," said Balsamides, coolly. I confess that I was

rather startled by the calm way in which he made the proposition. I

inwardly determined that we should do nothing of the kind.

"What is the other alternative?" I inquired, without showing any

surprise.

"To break into the house and make a search, I suppose," answered my

friend, still quite unmoved, and speaking as though he were proposing a

picnic on the Bosphorus.

"That is not an easy matter," I remarked, "besides being slightly

illegal."

"Whatever we do must be illegal," answered Gregorios. "If we begin to

use the law, the Khanum will have timely warning. If Alexander is still

alive and imprisoned in her house, it would be the work of a moment to

drop him into the Bosphorus. If he is dead already, we should have less

chance of getting evidence of the fact by using legal means than by

extracting a confession by bribery or violence."

"In other words, you think it is indispensable that we should undertake

a burglary?"

"Unless we succeed in persuading the Lala to confess," said Balsamides.

"This is a very unpleasant business," I remarked, with a pardonable

hesitation. "I do not quite see where it will end. If we break into the

house and find nothing, we shall be amenable to the law. I object to

that."

"Very well. What do you propose?"

"I cannot say what would be best. In my opinion, Paul should consult

with his ambassador, and take his advice. But before all else it is

necessary to find out whether Alexander is dead or alive."

"Of course. That is precisely what I want to find out," answered

Balsamides, rather impatiently. "The person who can best answer the

question is Selim, the Lala."

"I object to using violence," I said, boldly. "I fancy he might be

bribed. Those fellows will do anything for money."

"You do not know them. They will commit any baseness for money, except

betraying their masters. It has been tried a hundred times. We may avoid

using violence, as you call it, but the man must be frightened with the

show of it. The people who can be bribed are the women slaves of the

harem. But they are not easily reached."

"It is not impossible, though," I answered. "Nevertheless, if I were

acting alone, I would put the matter in the hands of the Russian

embassy."

"Do you think they would hesitate at any means of getting information,

any more than I would?" inquired Gregorios, scornfully.

"We shall see," I said. "We must discuss the matter thoroughly before

doing anything more. I have no experience of affairs of this sort; your

knowledge of them is very great. On the other hand, I am more prudent

than you are, and I do not like to risk everything on one throw of the

dice."

"We might set fire to the house and burn them out," said Gregorios,

thoughtfully. "The danger would be that we might burn Alexander alive."

My friend did not stick at trifles. Under his cold exterior lurked the

desperate rashness of the true Oriental, ready to blaze out at any

moment.

"No," I said, laughing; "that would not do, either. Is it not possible

to send a spy into the house? It seems to me that the thing might be

done. What sort of women are they who gain access to the harems?"

"Women who sell finery and sweetmeats; women who amuse the Khanums by

dressing their hair, when they have any, in the Frank style; women who

tell stories"----

"A story-teller would do," I said. "They are often admitted, are they

not? It is almost the only amusement those poor creatures have. I fancy

that one who could interest them might be admitted again and again."

Balsamides was silent, and smoked meditatively for some minutes.

"That is an idea," he said at last. "I know of such a woman, and I dare

say she could get in. But if she did, she might go to the house twenty

times, and get no information worth having."

"Never mind. It would be a great step to establish a means of

communication with the interior of the house. You could easily force the

Lala to recommend the story-teller to his Khanum. She could tell us

about the internal arrangement of the place, at all events, which would

make it easier for us to search the house, if we ever got a chance."

"If one could get as far as that, it would be a wise precaution and a

benefit to the human race to convey a little strychnine to the Khanum in

a sweetmeat," said Gregorios, with a laugh.

"How horribly bloodthirsty you are!" I answered, laughing in my turn. "I

believe you would massacre half of Stamboul to find a man who may be

dead already."

"It is our way of looking at things, I suppose," returned Balsamides. "I

will see the story-teller, and explain as much as possible of the

situation. What I most fear is that we may have to take somebody else

into our confidence."

"Do none of the ladies in the embassies know this Laleli, as you call

her?" I asked.

"Yes. Many Frank ladies have been to see her. But their visits are

merely the satisfaction of curiosity on the one side, and of formality

on the other."

"I was wondering whether one of them would not be the best person in

whom to confide."

"Not yet," said Balsamides.

And so our interview ended. When I saw Paul and told him the news, he

seemed to think that the search was already at an end. I found it hard

to persuade him that a week or two might elapse before anything definite

was known. In his enthusiasm he insisted that I should answer John

Carvel's letter by begging him to come at once. As he was the person

most concerned, I yielded, and wrote.

"It is strange," said Paul, "that we should have accomplished more in a

single month than has been done by all the official searching in a year

and a half."

"The reason is very simple," I answered. "The Lala did not chance to be

in want of money until lately. Everything we have discovered has been

found out by means of that watch."

"Griggs," said Paul, "Balsamides is a very clever fellow, but he has not

thought of asking one question. Why was the Lala never in want of money

before?"

"I do not know."

"Because, in some way or other, he is out of favor with his Khanum. If

that is the case, this is the time to bribe him."

"Very true," I said. "In any case, if he is trying to get money, it is a

sign that he needs it, in spite of our friend's declaration that he and

his kind cannot be bribed."