“It ought to add a whole province to the Empire,” observed the other.

“Well, I suppose the Zimmernes would have insisted on it as far as the canal,” observed Fisher, thoughtfully, “though everybody knows adding provinces doesn’t always pay much nowadays.”

Captain Boyle frowned in a slightly puzzled fashion.  Being cloudily conscious of never having heard of the Zimmernes in his life, he could only remark, stolidly: 

“Well, one can’t be a Little Englander.”

Horne Fisher smiled, and he had a pleasant smile.

“Every man out here is a Little Englander,” he said.  “He wishes he were back in Little England.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m afraid,” said the younger man, rather suspiciously.  “One would think you didn’t really admire Hastings or—­or—­anything.”

“I admire him no end,” replied Fisher.  “He’s by far the best man for this post; he understands the Moslems and can do anything with them.  That’s why I’m all against pushing Travers against him, merely because of this last affair.”

“I really don’t understand what you’re driving at,” said the other, frankly.

“Perhaps it isn’t worth understanding,” answered Fisher, lightly, “and, anyhow, we needn’t talk politics.  Do you know the Arab legend about that well?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about Arab legends,” said Boyle, rather stiffly.

“That’s rather a mistake,” replied Fisher, “especially from your point of view.  Lord Hastings himself is an Arab legend.  That is perhaps the very greatest thing he really is.  If his reputation went it would weaken us all over Asia and Africa.  Well, the story about that hole in the ground, that goes down nobody knows where, has always fascinated me, rather.  It’s Mohammedan in form now, but I shouldn’t wonder if the tale is a long way older than Mohammed.  It’s all about somebody they call the Sultan Aladdin, not our friend of the lamp, of course, but rather like him in having to do with genii or giants or something of that sort.  They say he commanded the giants to build him a sort of pagoda, rising higher and higher above all the stars.  The Utmost for the Highest, as the people said when they built the Tower of Babel.  But the builders of the Tower of Babel were quite modest and domestic people, like mice, compared with old Aladdin.  They only wanted a tower that would reach heaven—­ a mere trifle.  He wanted a tower that would pass heaven and rise above it, and go on rising for ever and ever.  And Allah cast him down to earth with a thunderbolt, which sank into the earth, boring a hole deeper and deeper, till it made a well that was without a bottom as the tower was to have been without a top.  And down that inverted tower of darkness the soul of the proud Sultan is falling forever and ever.”

“What a queer chap you are,” said Boyle.  “You talk as if a fellow could believe those fables.”

“Perhaps I believe the moral and not the fable,” answered Fisher.  “But here comes Lady Hastings.  You know her, I think.”