A thought occurred to me. I remembered that, three years before, my servant Radford had extracted the tooth of a maid-servant in a country house in Norfolk. Why should he not extract the Kurd's tooth? And if he were able to do so, would not my reputation as a hakim be higher than ever amidst the inhabitants of Kurdistan?
"I am not a hakim for teeth," I remarked to the patient. "I am a hakim for the stomach, which is the nobler and more important portion of a man's body."
The Imaum and the Kurd's children made a sign of assent to this; the Kurd himself did not seem to see it.
"You are in my house," he said. "You have accepted my hospitality—cure my tooth!"
"Well," I continued, "I have a servant with me; he is a hakim for teeth. If you like he shall look in your mouth."
"By all means!" said the Kurd.
In a few minutes a servant of my host arrived, leading Radford by the sleeve of his coat.
"Do you want me, sir?" inquired Radford, touching his cap. "This dirty chap," pointing to the man who had brought him to the room, "came into the place where I was a cooking, laid hold of me with his dirty fingers, and without saying a word led me here!"
"Yes," I said; "this gentleman," pointing to the old Kurd, "has something the matter with one of his teeth. Look at it."
My servant, without moving a muscle of his countenance, seized the patient by the nose with the fingers of one hand; then, thrusting a finger of the other into the sufferer's mouth, looked well down the gaping orifice.