"
Then passed she on to the furthest jar and, finding it brimming with
oil, filled her can. and returning to the kitchen, trimmed the lamp
and lit the wicks. Then, bringing forth a large caldron, she set it
upon the fire, and filling it with oil from out the jar, heaped wood
upon the hearth and fanned it to a fierce flame, the readier to boil
its contents. When this was done, she bailed it out in potfuls and
poured it seething hot into the leathern vessels, one by one, while
the thieves, unable to escape, were scalded to death and every jar
contained a corpse. Thus did this slave girl by her subtle wit make
a clean end of all, noiselessly and unknown even to the dwellers in
the house. Now when she had satisfied herself that each and every of
the men had been slain, she went back to the kitchen and, shutting
to the door, sat brewing Ali Baba's broth.
Scarce had an hour passed before the captain woke from sleep and,
opening wide his window, saw that all was dark and silent. So he
clapped his hands as a signal for his men to come forth, but not a
sound was heard in return. After a while he clapped again and called
aloud, but got no answer, and when he cried out a third time without
reply, he was perplexed and went out to the shed wherein stood the
jars.
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