At this information my uncle did not raise his eyebrows any more than if I had told him that I was occupying my leisure by practising the rustic flute; he only stretched out his arm, took my hand and shook it smartly in the English fashion, saying, "My compliments, my dear fellow!—I beg your pardon for my indiscretion."
"But, my dear uncle, I have quite a long story to tell you!" I added, not without a certain embarrassment "—and it is your death again that has been the cause of it!"
"How was that? Tell me all about it."
"You know, your Turkish pavilion—Kasre-el-Nouzha?"
"I know, well?"
"Well, four months ago, Mohammed-Azis arrived there."
"Hullo!" he said, "Mohammed?"
"Yes, and you had entrusted him with a—a commission," I continued.
"True," he exclaimed, "I had forgotten that!"
"Well, then, uncle——"