That evening, as the hour for action drew nigh, Hadji Baba and his colleagues began to grow rather uneasy—all the more so that the Dey was in a particularly bad humour.
Being an ignorant and uneducated man, he had found the work of gathering up the reins of government a very difficult task, notwithstanding the boldness of his heart and the determination of his will. True, he had simplified several knotty matters by bastinadoing and cutting off the heads of all concerned, but this left a multitude of matters which could not be disposed of in that summary fashion.
Among other things, he had been thwarted in his resolution to get possession of Angela Diego, whom he intended to have made a slave of the palace. Finding that she had taken refuge with the British consul at his country house, he sent a peremptory order to have the girl returned immediately, and, pending the result of that order, had locked Bacri up in a dungeon, with threats of the bastinado, and even death, in the event of any difficulty being thrown in the way.
After this he called for his coffee and pipe, his tame gazelle, chief executioners, and story-teller, resolving to throw the cares of state aside for the night and enjoy himself.
It was nearly eight o'clock when this order was given, to the consternation of Hadji Baba and his
