single word.

"What have you done?" cried Janaki in terror. "You have killed the chief
barber of the Sultan!"

"Yes, I rather fancy I have," replied Halil coolly.

Musli rushed towards the prostrate form of Ali Kermesh, felt him all
over very carefully, and then turned towards the hearth where the others
were sitting.

"Dead he is, there is no doubt about it. He's as dead as a door-nail.
Well, Halil, that was a fine blow of yours I must say. By the Prophet!
one does not see a blow like that every day. With your bare hand too! To
kill a man with nothing but your empty fist! If a cannon-ball had
knocked him over he could not be deader than he is."

"But what shall we do now?" cried Janaki, looking around him with
tremulous terror. "The Sultan is sure to send and make inquiries about
his lost Berber-Bashi. It is known that he came here in disguise. The
affair cannot long remain hidden."

"There is no occasion to fear anything," said Musli reassuringly. "Good
counsel is cheap. We can easily find a way out of it. Before the
business comes to light, we will go to the Etmeidan and join the
Janissaries. There let them send and fetch us if they dare, for we shall
be in a perfectly safe place anyhow. Why, don't you remember that only
last year the rebel, Esref Khan, whom the Padishah had been pursuing to
the death, even in foreign lands, hit, at last, upon the idea of
resorting to the Janissaries, and was safer against the fatal silken