"You seem troubled," he said, as he looked into the Greek's face; and
Gregorio retold the terrible story.
"You know nothing of all this?" he added, suspiciously, as his narrative
ended.
"Nothing."
"My God! it is so awful I thought all the world knew of it. You often
nursed and played with the boy?"
"Ay, and fed him. We Arabs love children, even Christian children, and I
will help you if I can."
"Why should Amos want the boy?" asked Madam Marx, as she put coffee and
tobacco before the guests.
"Because I owe him money, and he knew the loss of my son would be the
deadliest revenge. He will make my son a Jew, a beastly Jew. By God, he
shall not, he shall not!"
"We must find him and save him," said the woman.
"He will never be a Jew. That is not what Amos wants your son for; there
are plenty of Jews." Ahmed spoke quietly.
"They sacrifice children," he continued, after a moment's pause; "surely
you know that, and if you would save your boy there is not much time to
lose."
Gregorio trembled at Ahmed's words. He wondered how he could have
forgotten the common report, and his fingers grasped convulsively the
handle of his knife.
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