happened. At the first certainty that his power was gone and that there
was nothing to fear from his vengeance, his own people had gathered
together to destroy him.

There were two small mean houses on the opposite side of the alley, and
Ben Aboo tried to take refuge in the first of them. But the woman who
came with uncovered face to the door was the widow of the mason who had
built his strong-room. "Murderer and dog!" she cried, and shut the door
against him. He tried the other house. It was the house of the mason's
son. "Forgive me," he cried. "I am corrected by Allah! Yes, yes, it is
true I did wrong by your father, but forgive me and save me." Thus he
pleaded, throwing himself on the ground and crawling there. "Dog and
coward," the young man shouted, and beat him back into the street.

Ben Aboo's terror was now appalling to look upon. His face was that of
a snared beast. With bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and short thick
breath, he ran from dark alley to dark alley, trying every house where
he thought he might find a friend. "Alee, don't you know me?" "Mohammed,
it is I, Ben Aboo." "See, El Arby, here's money, money; it's yours,
only save me, save me!" With such frantic cries he raced about in
the darkness like a hunted wolf. But not a house would shelter him.
Everywhere he met relatives of men who had died through his means, and
he was driven away with curses.

Meantime, a rumour that Ben Aboo was in the streets had been bruited
abroad among the people, and their lust of blood was thereby raised to
madness. Screaming and spitting and raving, and firing their flintlocks,
they poured from street into street, watching for their victim and
seeing him in every shadow. "He's here!" "He's there!" "No, he's
yonder!" "He's scaling the high wall like a cat!"