All the officials scratched their noses and reflected.
After a moment the vizier replied—
"It all depends, most wise and illustrious. If the owner of the room be a true believer, he may turn it upside down if he please, not else."
"Good; and this flute-player is an infidel—a dog."
"I beg your pardon, sir, I'm a retired grocer," put in Figgins, who overheard the remark.
"Silence," growled the bashaw; "go on, plaintiff."
"Well, your highness," continued Bosja, "I continued to get worse and worse under this dreadful 'too-tooting', until at last, driven to desperation, I sprang from my bed, and hammered at the wall, imploring him to be quiet."
"And he still refused?"
"He did, your mightiness."
"And you?"