“Good morrow, friend,” said the robber, as he passed the stall; “you rise betimes, old as you are; I should think you could scarcely see to work by this light.”
“Indeed, sir,” replied the cobbler, “old as I am I do not want for good eye-sight, as you must needs believe, when I tell you I sewed a dead body together the other day where I had not so good a light as I have now.”
“A dead body!” exclaimed the robber, who had thus luckily met the very man who could give him the information he was in search of. “However you do not wish to make me believe, that the people of your city do impossible things.”
“I tell you,” said Mustapha, in a loud and angry tone, “I sewed a dead body together with my own hands.”
“Then I suppose you can tell me also where you performed this wonderful business.”
Upon this Mustapha related every particular of his being led blindfolded to the house.
“Well, my friend,” said the robber, “’tis a fine story, I confess, but not very easy to believe: however, if you will convince me by shewing me the house you talk of I will give you four pieces
