There was a slight pause, during which young Jack and his comrade grinned quietly at each other, and presently the former said—
"I think I can account for all this."
"Can you?" asked Mr. Figgins. "How?"
"It all lies in the dress you wear."
"In the dress?"
"Yes; you are in a Turkish country, and although I admit you look well in your splendid new tourist suit, cross-barred all over in four colours, I fancy it would be better if you dressed as a Turk during your stay here."
"A Turk, Jack?"
"Yes; now, if you were to have your head shaved, and dress yourself like a Turk," said Jack, "all this wonderment would cease, and you would go out, and come in, without exciting any remark."
Mr. Figgins fell back in his chair.
"Ha-ha-have my head sha-a-ved, dress myself up li-like a Turk?" he gasped. "You surely don't mean that?"