Callard knew very well the necessity, in Turkish administrations, of having a friend at court, and was aware, too, that where a high official failed, a servant might succeed.  But he was too well acquainted with the customs of the country to attempt to hasten matters unduly.  He began to discuss the weather; he compared the climate of his interlocutor’s province with that of the city; he spoke of the approaching Bairam festivities.  Then, apparently apropos of nothing, the man said, “I have been at the sheep-market to-day,” a remark which Callard took as a broad hint for bakshish:  the Turk wanted money to buy a fat sheep for the impending sacrifice.  He produced two medjidies.  The effect was magical.  The two Englishmen were guided to the small chamber where the Minister’s coat hung, where his coffee was prepared and his official attendants sat.  From this room access could be had to him without the knowledge of the hundreds of people outside waiting for an audience:  wives of exiled officers, officials without employment, mothers come to plead for erring sons who had been dismissed.

Introduced to the Minister’s presence, Callard wasted no time.  The case was put to him; Johnson, whom he knew by sight, vouched for the respectability and good faith of his old comrade; and the Minister, apologizing for his subordinate’s excess of zeal, scribbled an order permitting Lieutenant Smith to pursue his business free of all restrictions by the military authorities.

“But,” he said, “I have no power to give him exemption from Custom House control.”

The Englishmen thanked him profusely, and with many salaams retired.

“We have succeeded better than I hoped,” said Callard, as they passed out; “but we are still only half way, confound it!  We shall have to hurry up if Smith is to get off in time.  Arabadji,” he cried to the coachman awaiting them at the door, “the Direction-General of the Custom House.”

The driver whipped up his horse; they dashed down the Sublime Porte Hill, and drew up at the entrance to the Custom House.

“Is the Director-General here?” Callard asked of the doorkeeper.

“He is a little unwell, but the English adviser is here.”

“We will see him,” returned Callard; adding to Johnson, “We are in luck’s way; the English adviser does his best to lessen the inconveniences of the Circumlocution Office.”

They went up-stairs, and were met by an attendant who showed them into an unpretentious room, where an Englishman, wearing a fez, was seated at a table covered with papers and surrounded by a crowd of merchants and officials.  Questions of infinite variety were being submitted to him.

“Excellence, are we to accept as samples two dozen left-hand gloves?  This merchant brought two dozen right-hand gloves last week.”