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"Let him in, then."
Ben Zoof hesitated.
"Let him in, I say," repeated the captain, peremptorily.
However reluctantly, Ben Zoof obeyed. The door was unfastened,
and Isaac Hakkabut, enveloped in an old overcoat, shuffled into the gallery.
In a few moments Servadac approached, and the Jew began to overwhelm
him with the most obsequious epithets. Without vouchsafing any reply,
the captain beckoned to the old man to follow him, and leading
the way to the central hall, stopped, and turning so as to look
him steadily in the face, said, "Now is your opportunity.
Tell me what you want."
"Oh, my lord, my lord," whined Isaac, "you must have some news
to tell me."
"News? What do you mean?"
"From my little tartan yonder, I saw the yawl go out from the rock
here on a journey, and I saw it come back, and it brought a stranger;
and I thought--I thought--I thought--"
"Well, you thought--what did you think?"
"Why, that perhaps the stranger had come from the northern shores
of the Mediterranean, and that I might ask him--"
He paused again, and gave a glance at the captain.
"Ask him what? Speak out, man?"
"Ask him if he brings any tidings of Europe," Hakkabut blurted
out at last.
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