"Ferradji," angrily demanded the little officer of the Department of Education, "why were these gentlemen brought into the library?"
The Targa bowed respectfully.
"Ceghéir-ben-Cheikh came back sooner than we expected," he replied, "and last night the embalmers had not yet finished. They brought them here in the meantime," and he pointed to us.
"Very well, you may go," snapped the little man.
Ferradji backed toward the door. On the threshold, he stopped and spoke again:
"I was to remind you, sir, that dinner is served."
"All right. Go along."
And the little man seated himself at the desk and began to finger the papers feverishly.
I do not know why, but a mad feeling of exasperation seized me. I walked toward him.
"