Our crowd of female admirers was happily dispersed by a slight shower of
rain, and by clouds which threatened a downpour; the men remained, and a
swarthy-looking thoroughbred Turk promised to accompany me on the morrow
and show me the neighbourhood. I was informed in a mysterious whisper by
a Cypriote "that this man was a notorious robber, whose occupation was
gone since the arrival of the British;" he had formed one of a gang that
had infested the mountains, and his brother had murdered a friend of
Georgi (the van-driver), and was now in gaol at Rhodes for the capital
offence. The Turk was very intelligent, and thoroughly conversant with
the various methods of breech-loading firearms; he examined several
rifles and guns belonging to me, and at once comprehended the mechanism,
and explained it to the admiring crowd. When this individual left our
camp in the evening, the story that I had heard in outline was
corroborated by the driver Georgi, who asked me to exert my influence to
procure the hanging of the murderer now at Rhodes, as the Turkish
authorities would never execute a Turk for the murder of a Greek unless
influenced by foreign pressure. It appeared that the Cypriote had
informed against one of the gang for cattle-stealing, accordingly
several members of the fraternity picked a quarrel with him at a
drinking-shop one evening at Dali, and stabbed him fatally.
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