Part 30

“For a son.”

Gregorio then demanded admittance and led the way, followed by his three friends. He had visited the house of Amos before, on less bloody but less delightful business, and he did not hesitate, but strode on to where he knew the Jew would be. His companions stood behind the curtain, awaiting the signal.

Amos looked somewhat surprised at the Greek’s entrance, but motioned him to a seat, and, as on the occasion of his first visit, clapped his hands together as a signal that coffee and pipes were required.

“It is kind of you to come, for doubtless you wish to pay me what is owing.”

“I wish to pay you.”

“That is well. I hope you are better again. I regretted to find you so ill two nights ago.”

“I am better.”

The conversation ceased, for Gregorio was restless and his fingers itched to do their work. Something in his manner alarmed Amos, for he summoned in two of his servants and raised himself slightly, as if the better to avoid an attack. But he continued to smoke calmly, watching the Greek under his half-closed lids.

“I have another piece of business to settle with you.”

“Do you want to borrow more money because I refuse to lend you any?”

“No; it is you who have borrowed, and I have come to you to receive back my own.”

“I fail to understand you.”

Gregorio tried to keep calm, but it was not possible. Rising to his feet, he bent over the Jew and cried out:

“Give me back my son, you Jew dog!”

“Your son is not here.”

“You lie! by God, you lie! If he is not here you have murdered him.”

“Madman!” shouted Amos, as the Greek’s knife flashed from its sheath; but before he or his servants could stay the uplifted arm the Jew sank back among his cushions, wounded to the heart. With a shout of triumph and a “Death of all Jews!” Gregorio turned savagely on the servants and, reinforced by his companions, soon succeeded in slaying them. Then leaving the dead side by side, the four men dashed through the house seeking fresh victims. Ten minutes later they were in the street again, dripping with the blood of women and men, for in their fury they had killed every human being in the house.

Down the narrow native streets they pushed on quickly, hugging the shadows, toward the Penny-farthing Shop. Madam Marx, her ears sharpened by fear, heard them, admitted them by a side door, and led them quickly to an upper room. Thither she carried water and clean garments, but dared not ask any questions. Sick with anxiety, she re-entered the bar and waited.

At length the murderers appeared and called for coffee, and Madam Marx attended to their wants. In a few minutes the Egyptians left, and Gregorio and she were alone. Coming near him, she placed her hand timidly on his shoulder, and asked him, in a hoarse whisper, to tell her what had happened.

“My son was not there.”

“Well?”

“Well, you can guess the rest. Not one person remains alive of that devil’s household.”

Madam Marx gasped at the magnitude of the crime, and though her terrors increased, her pride in the man capable of so tremendous revenge increased also.

“What will happen to you?” she found voice to ask.

“Nothing. I must hide here. We were not seen. Besides, you remember the last time a Greek murdered a Jew--it was at Port Said--the matter was hushed up. Our consuls care as little for Jews as we do. My God, how glad I am I killed him!”

His eyes were fixed on the street as he spoke, and suddenly he started to his feet. Madam rose too, and clung to him. He pushed her roughly on one side, while an evil smile played on his lips.

“By God, she shall come back now!”

“Who?”