Then there was silence among us, breathless and anxious.

Abdul glanced down the missive, reading it in silence to himself.

“Oh noble,” he murmured.  “Oh generous!  It is too much.  Too splendid a lot!”

“What does it say?”

“Look,” said the Sultan.  “The United States has used its good offices.  It has intervened!  All is settled.  My fate is secure.”

“Yes, yes,” I said, “but what is it?”

“Is it believable?” exclaimed Abdul.  “It appears that none of the belligerents cared about me at all.  None had designs upon me.  The war was not made, as we understood, Toomuch, as an attempt to seize my person.  All they wanted was Constantinople.  Not me at all!”

“Powerful Allah!” murmured Toomuch.  “Why was it not so said?”

“For me,” said the Sultan, still consulting the letter, “great honours are prepared!  I am to leave Constantinople —­that is the sole condition.  It shall then belong to whoever can get it.  Nothing could be fairer.  It always has.  I am to have a safe conduct—­is it not noble?—­to the United States.  No one is to attempt to poison me—­is it not generosity itself?—­neither on land nor even—­mark this especially, Toomuch—­on board ship.  Nor is anyone to throw me overboard or otherwise transport me to paradise.”

“It passes belief!” murmured Toomuch Koffi.  “Allah is indeed good.”

“In the United States itself,” went on Abdul, “or, I should say, themselves, Toomuch, for are they not innumerable?  I am to have a position of the highest trust, power and responsibility.”

“Is it really possible?” I said, greatly surprised.

“It is so written,” said the Sultan.  “I am to be placed at the head, as the sole head or sovereign of—­how is it written?—­a Turkish Bath Establishment in New York.  There I am to enjoy the same freedom and to exercise just as much—­it is so written—­exactly as much political power as I do here.  Is it not glorious?”

“Allah!  Illallah!” cried the secretary.

“You, Toomuch, shall come with me, for there is a post of great importance placed at my disposal—­so it is written—­under the title of Rubber Down.  Toomuch, let our preparations be made at once.  Notify Fatima and Falloola.  Those two alone shall go, for it is a Christian country and I bow to its prejudices.  Two, I understand, is the limit.  But we must leave at once.”

The Sultan paused a moment and then looked at me.

“And our good friend here,” he added, “we must leave to get out of this Yildiz Kiosk by whatsoever magic means he came into it.”

Which I did.

And I am assured, by those who know, that the intervention was made good and that Abdul and Toomuch may be seen to this day, or to any other day, moving to and fro in their slippers and turbans in their Turkish Bath Emporium at the corner of Broadway and—­

But stop; that would be saying too much, especially as Fatima and Falloola occupy the upstairs.