smiled.
"You understand, of course, that I saw 'Hussein Effendi of Durazzo' inscribed in Arabic near the hilt." The Turk inclined his head.
"With this weapon," T.X.went on, speaking with slow emphasis, "a murder was committed in this town." There was no sign of interest or astonishment, or indeed of any emotion whatever.
"It is the will of God," he said calmly; "these things happen even in a great city like London." "It was your knife," suggested T.X.
"But my hand was in Durazzo, Effendi," said the Turk.
He looked at the knife again.
"So the Black Roman is dead, Effendi." "The Black Roman ?" asked T.X., a little puzzled.
"The Greek they call Kara," said the Turk; "he was a very wicked man." T.X.was up on his feet now, leaning across the table and looking at the other with narrowed eyes.
"How did you know it was Kara ?" he asked quickly.
The Turk shrugged his shoulders.
"Who else could it be ?" he said; "are not your newspapers filled with the story ?" T.X.sat back again, disappointed and a little annoyed with himself.
"That is true, Hussein Effendi, but I did not think you read the papers." "Neither do I, master," replied the other coolly, "nor did I know that Kara had been killed until I saw this knife.

How came this in your possession!" "It was found in a rain sewer," said T.X., "into which the murderer had apparently dropped it.

But if you have not read the newspapers, Effendi, then you admit that you know who committed this murder." The Turk raised his hands slowly to a level with his shoulders.
"Though I am a Christian," he said, "there are many wise sayings of my father's religion which I remember.

And one of these, Effendi, was, 'the wicked must die in the habitations of the just, by the weapons of the worthy shall the wicked perish.' Your Excellency, I am a worthy man, for never have I done a dishonest thing in my life.

I have traded fairly with Greeks, with Italians, have with Frenchmen and with Englishmen, also with Jews.