It happened once upon a time that Mullah Nasruddin was serving as a judge when two men, shouting and struggling, were brought into his courtroom. One was a butcher, who accused the other man of stealing money from his shop. The people in the market had stopped them from fighting, and brought them to the Mullah.

“He asked me to cut some meat for him,” the butcher declared, “and when I started to cut, he opened my money drawer, scooped out the coins, and ran. But he didn’t get far, I caught him outside my door, the dog!”

The other man denied the whole matter. “I did not go into his shop,” he declared. “I was passing by and this man suddenly ran out and grabbed my purse – HE is the thief!”

There were no witnesses – it was the word of one against the other. “Show me the coins,” Nasruddin said.

The man opened his purse and poured them on the table in front of the Mullah. Nasruddin inspected the little heap, and then said, “Put them in a bowl of water.”

The people were puzzled, but someone brought a bowl of water, and the coins were put in. Nasruddin then stroked his beard and without a word stared fixedly for long minutes at first one man and then at the other. Everyone in the court was silent, wondering if the Mullah was not, perhaps, losing his mind.

After some time, Nasruddin glanced at the bowl, and then said, “Give this man a beating, he is a thief. This money belongs to the butcher.”

The butcher said, “Praise God!” and as they hauled the thief away, someone said, “Tell us, Mullah, were you reading their characters, is that how you knew?”

“No,” said Nasruddin, “I read it in the water. Look!”

A thin film of grease had spread across the surface of the water.

“Obviously the coins have been handled by the butcher,” the Mullah declared. “They belong to him.”