lah, I command you to stand up in my defence. Come here."

The old interpreter approached with a low bow.

"Write on two pieces of card the words--'Admire Moley Pasha, but touch
not him.'"

"In Turkish?"

"Turkish and English, too."

"Pasha, to hear is to obey."

At this moment a young negro attendant announced--

"The Ladies Alme and Hannifar are impatient to be admitted to your
sublime presence."

"Let them wait; it will do them good," cried Mole, desperately. "Have
you written it, Abdullah?"

"One moment, your highness," was the reply. "There," he added,
finishing up with an elaborate flourish; "all will understand that. And
now what am I to do with them?"

"Fasten one notice on my back, and the other on my chest," answered
Mole, "so that the ladies may understand and keep at a respectful
distance. That's right. Be still, my trembling heart. Now you can admit
them."

The negro drew aside the curtains of the chamber, and two female forms
of majestic height and proportions, in gorgeous Oriental costumes, but
closely veiled, entered.

They made a very graceful salute to the pasha, and were walking
straight up to him, when he sprang backwards, and leaping upon a high
sofa, turned his back to them, not in contempt, but in order that they
might read the Turkish inscription thereon inscribed.

Then he turned and pointed to it on his breast in English.

Far, however, from being struck with awe and covered with confusion,
the ladies were highly amused and laughed consumedly.

"What are they smiling at?" asked Mole, somewhat indignantly.

"Only at the felicitous ingenuity of your highness's idea," answered
the interpreter, pointing to the placard.

"Well, I hope they understand, and will abide by it," said Mole,
venturing to step off the sofa.

But the moment he did so, the foremost, who, he understood was the Lady
Alme, and was certainly of an impulsive disposition, sprang forward as
if to embrace Mole.

"Save me!" he cried. "To the rescue, guards, attendants, Jack, Harry.
Where can they have got to? Help, help! Mrs. Mole, come to the rescue
of your poor Mole."

The old interpreter, with some dexterity, flung himself between them,
just in the nick of time to avert from Mole the fair Circassian's
effusive greeting.

"'Tis our Eastern custom," explained the dragoman. "Her ladyship is
only expressing her delight at beholding her new lord and master."

"Tell them I am nothing of the kind, and I have