"There is talk," said the Secretary "of the Yugo-Hebrovians and the Scaroovians—"
"Who are they?" I asked.
"We don't know," said Abdul, testily. "They wrote to us. They seem all right. Haven't you got a lot of people in your league that you never heard of?"
"I see," I said, "and what is the scheme that your league is formed on?"
"Very simple," said the Sultan. "Each member of the league gives its WORD to all the other members. Then they all take an OATH together. Then they all sign it. That is absolutely binding."
He rolled back on his cushions in an evident state of boredom and weariness.
"But surely," I protested, "you don't think that a league of that sort can keep the peace?"
"Peace!" exclaimed Abdul waking into sudden astonishment. "Peace! I should think NOT! Our league is for WAR. Every member gives its word that at the first convenient opportunity it will knock the stuff out of any of the others that it can."
The little Sultan again subsided. Then he rose, with some difficulty, from his cushions.
"Toomuch," he said, "take our inquisitive friend out into the town; take him to the Bosphorous; take him to the island where the dogs are; take him anywhere." He paused to whisper a few instructions into the ear of the Secretary. "You understand," he said, "well, take him. As for me,"—he gave a great yawn as he shuffled away, "I am about to withdraw into my Inner Harem. Goodbye. I regret that I cannot invite you in."