“This is a funny go!” he began, with forced geniality.  “Am I to live here?”

“Ma’lesh!” muttered Said—­“ma’lesh!”

He indicated, by gestures, that Soames should remove his collar; he was markedly unemotional.  He crossed to the bathroom, and could be heard filling the hand-basin with water.

“Kursi!” he called from within.

Soames, seriously doubting his own sanity, and so obsessed with a sense of the unreal that his senses were benumbed, began to take off his collar; he could not feel the contact of his fingers with his neck in the act.  Collarless, he entered the little bathroom....

“Kursi!” repeated Said; then:  “Ah! ana nesit! ma’lesh!”

Said—­whilst Soames, docile in his stupor, watched him—­went back, picked up the solitary cane chair which the apartment boasted, and brought it into the bathroom.  Soames perceived that he was to be treated to something in the nature of a shampoo; for Said had ranged a number of bottles, a cake of soap, and several towels, along a shelf over the bath.

In a curious state of passivity, Soames submitted to the operation.  His hair was vigorously toweled, then fanned in the most approved fashion; but this was no more than the beginning of the operation.  As he leaned back in the chair: 

“Am I dreaming?” he said aloud.  “What’s all this about?”

“Uskut!” muttered Said—­“Uskut!”

Soames, at no time an aggressive character, resigned himself to the incredible.

Some lotion, which tingled slightly upon the scalp, was next applied by Said from a long-necked bottle.  Then, fresh water having been poured into the basin, a dark purple liquid was added, and Soames’ head dipped therein by the operating Eastern.  This time no rubbing followed, but after some minutes of vigorous fanning, he was thrust back into the chair, and a dry towel tucked firmly into his collar-band.  He anticipated that he was about to be shaved, and in this was not disappointed.

Said, filling a shaving-mug from the hot-water tap, lathered Soames’ chin and the abbreviated whiskers upon which he had prided himself.  Then the razor was skilfully handled, and Soames’ face shaved until his chin was as smooth as satin.

Next, a dark brown solution was rubbed over the skin, and even upon his forehead and right into the roots of the hair; upon his throat, his ears, and the back of his neck.  He was now past the putting of questions or the raising of protest; he was as clay in the hands of the silent Oriental.  Having fanned his wet face again for some time, Said, breaking the long silence, muttered: 

“Ikfil’iyyun!”

Soames stared.  Said indicated, by pantomime, that he desired him to close his eyes, and Soames obeyed mechanically.  Thereupon the Oriental busied himself with the ex-butler’s not very abundant lashes for five minutes or more.  Then the busy fingers were at work with his inadequate eyebrows:  finally:—­