At this moment, the shouts outside grew louder and fiercer.
An angry consultation, in which half a dozen at least were engaged, all talking at once, could be heard, and then Karam, the chief of the guard, came rushing back with a face full of dismay.
"Your highness——" he gasped.
"Well, Karam, what's the matter?" asked Mole.
"A grand officer, who calls himself Moley Pasha, the same name as your excellency, is outside with a body of troops, and insists upon admission."
Mole started from his seat, and almost immediately sank exhausted with fright and horror.
He saw now the peril in which he stood, and devoutly wished he were safe at home, and in the arms of Mrs. Mole.
"A—pasha—calling himself Moley!" he exclaimed. "What does he want?"
"He declares he has been appointed to this government by the firman of his imperial majesty the sultan, and that you—you—pardon, your highness—are an impostor."
Mole now knew the worst.