-and to Macpherson Effendi, my financial
adviser. Let them all have bowstrings."

"Stop, stop," I pleaded. "I don't understand."

"Why surely," said the little man, in evident astonishment,
"it is plain enough. What would you do in Canada? When
your ministers--as I think you call them--fail and no
longer enjoy your support, do you not send them bowstrings?"

"Never," I said. "They go out of office, but--"

"And they do not disembowel themselves on their retirement?
Have they not that privilege?"

"Never!" I said. "What an idea!"

"The ways of the infidel." said the little Sultan, calmly
resuming his pipe, "are beyond the compass of the true
intelligence of the Faithful. Yet I thought it was so
even as here. I had read in your newspapers that after
your last election your ministers were buried alive--buried
under a landslide, was it not? We thought it--here in
Turkey--a noble fate for them."

"They crawled out," I said.

"Ishmillah!" ejaculated Abdul. "But go, Toomuch. And
listen, thou also--for in spite of all thou hast served
me well--shalt have a bowstring."

"Oh, master, master," cried Toomuch, falling on his knees
in gratitude and clutching the sole of Abdul's slipper.
"It is too kind!"

"Nay, nay," said the Sultan. "Thou hast deserved it. And
I will go further. This stranger, too, my governess, this
professor, bring also for the professor a bowstring, and
a two-bladed knife! All Canada shall rejoice to hear of
it. The students shall leap up like young lambs at the
honour that will be done. Bring the knife, Toomuch; bring
the knife!"

"Abdul," I said, "Abdul, this is too much. I refuse. I
am not fit. The honour is too great."

"Not so," said Abdul. "I am still Sultan. I insist upon
it. For, listen, I have long penetrated your disguise
and your kind design. I saw it from the first. You knew
all and came to die with me. It was kindly meant. But
you shall die no common death; yours shall be the honour
of the double knife--let it be extra sharp, Toomuch--and
the bowstring."

"Abdul," I urged, "it cannot be. You forget. I have an
appointment to be thrown into the Bosphorus."

"The death of a dog! Never!" cried Abdul. "My will is
still law. Toomuch, kill him on the spot. Hit him with
the stool, throw the coffee at him--"

But at this moment there were heard loud cries and shouting
as in tones of great gladness, in the outer hall of the
palace, doors swinging to and fro and the sound of many
runn