As he entered, an attendant who accompanied him, also in a uniform and a spiked helmet, called in a loud strident voice that resounded to the arches of the hall: 

“His High Excellenz Feld Marechal von der Doppelbauch, Spezial Representant of His Majestat William II, Deutscher Kaiser and King of England!”

Abdul collapsed into a little heap.  His fez fell over his face.  Toomuch Koffi had slunk into a corner.

Von der Doppelbauch strode noisily forward and came to a stand in front of Abdul with a click and rattle after the Prussian fashion.

“Majestat,” he said in a deep, thunderous voice, “I greet you.  I bow low before you.  Salaam!  I kiss the floor at your feet.”

But in reality he did nothing of the sort.  He stood to the full height of his six feet six and glowered about him.

“Salaam!” said Abdul, in a feeble voice.

“But who is this?” added the Field-Marshal, looking angrily at me.

My costume, or rather my disguise, for, as I have said, I was wearing a poke bonnet with a plain black dress, seemed to puzzle him.

“My new governess,” said Abdul.  “She came this morning.  She is a professor—­”

“Bah!” said the Field-Marshal, “a woman a professor!  Bah!”

“No, no,” said Abdul in protest, and it seemed decent of the little creature to stick up for me.  “She’s all right, she is interesting and knows a great deal.  She’s from Canada!”

“What!” exclaimed Von der Doppelbauch.  “From Canada!  But stop!  It seems to me that Canada is a country that we are at war with.  Let me think, Canada?  I must look at my list”—­he pulled out a little set of tablets as he spoke—­“let me see, Britain, Great Britain, British North America, British Guiana, British Nigeria—­ha! of course, under K—­Kandahar, Korfu.  No, I don’t seem to see it —­Fritz,” he called to the aide-de-camp who had announced him, “telegraph at once to the Topographical Staff at Berlin and find out if we are at war with Canada.  If we are”—­he pointed at me—­“throw her into the Bosphorus.  If we are not, treat her with every consideration, with every distinguished consideration.  But see that she doesn’t get away.  Keep her tight, till we are at war with Canada, as no doubt we shall be, wherever it is, and then throw her into the Bosphorus.”

The aide clicked his heels and withdrew.

“And now, your majesty,” continued the Field-Marshal, turning abruptly to the Sultan, “I bring you good news.”

“More good news,” groaned Abdul miserably, winding his clasped fingers to and fro.  “Alas, good news again!”

“First,” said Von der Doppelbauch, “the Kaiser has raised you to the order of the Black Dock.  Here is your feather.”

“Another feather,” moaned Abdul.  “Here, Toomuch, take it and put it among the feathers!”

“Secondly,” went on the Field-Marshal, checking off his items as he spoke, “your contribution, your personal contribution to His Majesty’s Twenty-third Imperial Loan, is accepted.”