He told them at length.
“And didst thou take any of his perfume bottles?” said Farag at the end.
“I am his servant. I took two,” Abdul replied.
“Ask him,” said Farag's uncle, “what he knows about our land-titles. Ye young men are all alike.” He waved a pamphlet. Mr. Groombride smiled to see how the seed sown in London had borne fruit by Gihon. Lo! All the seniors held copies of the pamphlet.
“He knows less than a buffalo. He told me on the steamer that he was driven out of his own land by Demah-Kerazi which is a devil inhabiting crowds and assemblies,” said Abdul.
“Allah between us and evil!” a woman cackled from the darkness of a hut. “Come in, children, he may have the Evil Eye.”
“No, my aunt,” said Farag. “No afflicted of God has an evil eye. Wait till ye hear his mirth-provoking speech which he will deliver. I have heard it twice from Abdul.”
“They seem very quick to grasp the point. How far have you got, Abdul?”
“All about the beatings, sar. They are highly interested.”
“Don't forget about the local self-government, and please hold the umbrella over me. It is hopeless to destroy unless one first builds up.”