“Yes,” I answered, “we have one just like that.”

“This war finance is glorious stuff, isn’t it?” continued the Sultan.  “How much do you think we owe?”

“I haven’t an idea,” I said.

“Wait a minute,” said Abdul.  He touched a bell and at the sound of it there came shuffling into the room my venerable old acquaintance Toomuch Koffi, the Royal Secretary.  But to my surprise he no longer wore his patriarchal beard, his flowing robe and his girdle.  He was clean shaven and close cropped and dressed in a short jacket like an American bell boy.

“You remember Toomuch, I think,” said Abdul.  “I’ve reconstructed him a little, as you see.”

“The Peace of Allah be upon thine head,” said Toomuch Koffi to the Sultan, commencing a deep salaam.  “What wish sits behind thy forehead that thou shouldst ring the bell for this humble creature of clay to come into the sunlight of thy presence?  Tell me, O Lord, if perchance—­”

“Here, here,” interrupted the Sultan impatiently, “cut all that stuff out, please.  That ancient courtesy business won’t do, not if this country is to reconstruct itself and come abreast of the great modern democracies.  Say to me simply ‘What’s the trouble?"’

Toomuch bowed, and Abdul continued.  “Look in your tablets and see how much our public debt amounts to in American dollars.”

The secretary drew forth his tablets and bowed his head a moment in some perplexity over the figures that were scribbled on them.  “Multiplication,” I heard him murmur, “is an act of the grace of heaven; let me invoke a blessing on five, the perfect number, whereby the Pound Turkish is distributed into the American dollar.”

He remained for a few moments with his eyes turned, as if in supplication, towards the vaulted ceiling.

“Have you got it?” asked Abdul.

“Yes.”

“And what do we owe, adding it all together?”

“Forty billion dollars,” said Toomuch.

“Isn’t that wonderful!” exclaimed Abdul, with delight radiating over his countenance.  “Who would have thought that before the war!  Forty billion dollars!  Aren’t we the financiers!  Aren’t we the bulwark of monetary power!  Can you touch that in Canada?”

“No,” I said, “we can’t.  We don’t owe two billion yet.”

“Oh, never mind, never mind,” said the little man in a consoling tone.  “You are only a young country yet.  You’ll do better later on.  And in any case I am sure you are just as proud of your one billion as we are of our forty.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, “we certainly are.”

“Come, come, that’s something anyway.  You’re on the right track, and you must not be discouraged if you’re not up to the Turkish standard yet.  You must remember, as I told you before, that Turkey leads the world in all ideas of government and finance.  Take the present situation.  Here we are, bankrupt—­pass me the champagne, Toomuch, and sit down with us—­the very