"If that's a disguise you've got on," says I, "it's a bird. And if it ain't—say, let's hear the tale. Who do you claim to be, anyway?"
"Many pardons again, Effendi," says he, "but it is my wish to remain—what you call it?—incognito."
"Then you don't get your wish," says I. "No John Doe game goes with me. Out with it! Who and what?"
"But I make protest," says he. "Rather would I depart on my way."
"Ah, ditch that!" says I. "I caught you actin' like a suspicious character. Now, if you can account for yourself, I may turn you loose; but if you don't, it's a case for the police."
"Ah, no, no!" he objects. "Not the constables! Allah forbid! I—I will make explanation."
"Then let it come across quick," says I. "First off, what name are you flaggin' under?"
"At my home," says he, "I am known as Pasha Dar Bunda."
"Well, that's some name, all right," says I. "Now the next item, Pasha, is this, What set you to prowlin' around the home of one McCabe?"
"Ah, but you would not persist thus far!" says he, pleadin'. "That is a personal thing, something between myself and Allah alone."