of interesting
disclosures.

"They used to treat me so differently," Abdul went on,
and his sobbing ceased as he continued, "They used to
call me the Bully Boy of the Bosphorus. They said I was
the Guardian of the Golden Gate. They used to let me kill
all the Armenians I liked and nobody was allowed to
collect debts from me, and every now and then they used
to send me the nicest ultimatums--Oh, you don't know,"
he broke off, "how nice it used to be here in the Yildiz
in the old days! We used all to sit round here, in this
very hall, me and the diplomats, and play games, such as
'Ultimatum, ultimatum, who's got the ultimatum.' Oh, say,
it was so nice and peaceful! And we used to have big
dinners and conferences, especially after the military
manoeuvres and the autumn massacres--me and the diplomats,
all with stars and orders, and me in my white fez with
a copper tassel--and hold discussions about how to reform
Macedonia."

"But you spoilt it all, Abdul," I protested.

"I didn't, I didn't!" he exclaimed almost angrily. "I'd
have gone on for ever. It was all so nice. They used to
present me--the diplomats did--with what they called
their Minimum, and then we (I mean Codfish Pasha and me)
had to draft in return our Maximum--see?--and then we
all had to get together again and frame a _status quo_."

"But that couldn't go on for ever," I urged.

"Why not?" said Abdul. "It was a great system. We invented
it, but everybody was beginning to copy it. In fact, we
were leading the world, before all this trouble came.
Didn't you have anything of our system in your country
--what do you call it--in Canada?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Now that I come to think of it, we
were getting into it. But the war has changed it all--"

"Exactly," said Abdul. "There you are! All changed! The
good old days gone for ever!"

"But surely," I said, "you still have friends--the
Bulgarians."

The Sultan's little black eyes flashed with anger as he
withdrew his pipe for a moment from his mouth.

"The low scoundrels!" he said between his teeth. "The
traitors!"

"Why, they're your Allies!"

"Yes, Allah destroy them! They are. They've come over to
_our_ side. After centuries of fighting they refuse to
play fair any longer. They're on _our_ side! Who ever
heard of such a thing? Bah! But, of course," he added
more quietly, "we shall massacre them just the same. We
shall insist, in the terms of peace, on retaining our
rights of massacre. But