Abdul looked cautiously around.
"They did," he said in a whisper. "There's a lot more of it. Would you like me to recite some more? Or, no, no, what's the good? I've no heart for reciting any longer." And at this Abdul fell to weeping again.
"But, Abdul," I said, "I don't understand. Why are you so distressed just now? All this has been going on for over two years. Why are you so worried just now?"
"Oh," exclaimed the little Sultan in surprise, "you haven't heard! I see—you've only just arrived. Why, to-day is the last day. After to-day it is all over."
"Last day for what?" I asked.
"For intervention. For the intervention of the United States. The only thing that can save us. It was to have come to-day, by the end of this full moon—our astrologers had predicted it—Smith Pasha, Minister under Heaven of the United States, had promised, if it came, to send it to us at the earliest moment. How do they send it, do you know, in a box, or in paper?"
"Stop," I said as my ear caught the sound of footsteps. "There's some one coming now."
The sound of slippered feet was distinctly heard on the stones in the outer corridor.
Abdul listened intently a moment.
"I know his slippers," he said.