Mulla Nasrudin had had words with the Sheikh of a monastery
where he was staying. One day a bag of rice was missing, and the
chief ordered everyone to line up in the courtyard. Then he told
them that the man who had stolen the rice had some grains of it
in his beard.
‘This is an old trick, to make the guilty party touch his beard,’
thought the real thief, and he did not move.
‘The chief is out to revenge himself upon me,’ thought Nasrudin,
‘and he is certain to have planted rice in my beard. I had better
brush it off as inconspicuously as possible.’
He clawed his fingers through his beard: and found everyone
looking at him.
‘I knew that you would get me sooner or later.’ said Nasrudin.