drip, drip, drip of rain on the stoep, and promised
himself that he would call upon Abiboo in the morning, to explain the
matter of a choked gutter, for Abiboo had sworn, by the Prophet and
certain minor relatives of the Great One, that he had cleared every
bird's nest from the ducts about the Residency.

Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip!

Sanders sank with luxurious leisure into the nothingness of the night.

Drip-tap, drip-tap, drip-tap!

He opened his eyes slowly, slid one leg out of bed, and groped for his
slippers. He slipped into the silken dressing-gown which had been flung
over the end of the bed, corded it about him, and switched on the
electric light. Then he passed out into the big common room, with its
chairs drawn together in overnight comradeship, and the solemn tick of
the big clock to emphasize the desolation. He paused a second to switch
on the lights, then went to the door and flung it open.

"Enter!" he said in Arabic.

The man who came in was naked, save for a tarboosh on his head and a
loin-cloth about his middle. His slim body shone with moisture, and
where he stood on the white matting were two little pools. Kano from his
brown feet to the soaked fez, he stood erect with that curious
assumption of pride and equality which the Mussulman bears with less
offence to his superiors than any other race.

"Peace on this house," he said, raising his hand.

"Speak, Ahmet," said Sanders, dropping into a big chair and stretching
back, with his clasped hands behind his head. He eyed the man gravely
and without resentment, for no spy would tap upon his window at night
save that the business was a bad one.

"Lord," said the man, "it is shameful that I should wake your lordship
from your beautiful dream, but I came with the river."[7] He looked down
at his master, and in the way of certain Kano people, who are
dialecticians to a man, he asked: "Lord, it is written in the Sura of
Ya-Sin, 'To the sun it is not given to overtake the moon----'"

[Footnote 7: I came when I could.]

"'Nor doth the night outstrip the day; but each in his own sphere doth
journey on,'" finished Sanders patiently. "Thus also begins the Sura of
the Cave: 'Praise be to God, Who hath sent down the book to his servant,
and hath put no crookedness into it.' Therefore, Ahmet, be plain to me,
and leave your good speeches till you meet the abominable Sufi."

The man sank to his haunches. "Lord," he said, "from the bend of the
river, whe