“Eh, eh, ahem!” coughed the old pedagogue. “I’ve always been somewhat shy of bargains that can be obtained for a mere song. I always favor inspecting whatever I purchase.”
“Then be seated,” invited Coddington, motioning toward the heaped-up cushions at his side. “Sit here, professor, and you shall see some of the sights of the harem.”
The professor hastened to deposit himself amid the cushions, chuckling inwardly over his success.
Colonel Stringer accepted a seat on the opposite side of the professed owner of the harem.
Coddington clapped his hands.
Immediately a huge black man, dressed in gaudy, barbaric clothes, his head turbaned, his feet bare, appeared from somewhere and bowed low before the Englishman.
“Bring hookahs for my visitors,” said Coddington, “and bid my dancing girls appear and dance for me.”
The black man bowed sweepingly again, and hastily disappeared.
Almost immediately two boys, clothed in purple, entered, bearing hookahs, which they placed before the professor and the colonel. When the visitors were ready to smoke, the boys lighted the hookahs.
“He! he!” laughed Zenas, as he puffed away. “Makes one feel decidedly kinky and chipper. I’m not much of a smoker, but I—ough! ugah! ugah! agoo-ugah!—hah! Whew!”