“What had he been doing?”
“Nothing he been done; I send him uptown of errand; police catch him right out there.”
“What for?”
“Take him down to Soudan to work; the vice-royal he issue an order for the police to catch all the black fellows in Cairo, and take 'em to the Soudan, down to Gondokora for what I know, to work the land there.”
“But Ahman is our servant; he can't be seized.”
“Oh, I know, Ahman belong to me, he was my slave till I give him liberty; I go to get him out directly. These people know me, I get him off.”
“But if you had no influence with the police, Ahman would be dragged off to Soudan to work in a cotton or rice field?”
“Lots of black fellows like him sent off. But I get him back, don't you have worry. What the vice-royal to do with my servant—I don't care if he Kin' of Constantinople!”
Sure enough, early in the evening the handsome Abyssinian boy came back, none the worse, except for a thorough scare, eyes and teeth shining, and bursting into his usual hearty laugh upon allusion to his capture.
“Police tyeb?”