The Sultan could not speak English, and the officers could not understand him, so that the conversation would have flagged had it not been for the interpreters referred to above. One of these was the Funny Man one meets all over the world, who sees a joke in everything, and laughs at it himself, whether you are amused or not. But this man was really very funny. He rubbed his hands and bowed and laughed over everything that was said, until it was impossible not to be in good spirits. He evidently considered it quite a good joke that so many fine gentlemen in uniform, with gold epaulets and clanking swords, should have taken the trouble to look up such a seedy old Sultan as Abdul Momin. Having made the presentations in due form, he proceeded to do the honors of the one-roomed palace. There was very, very little furniture to look at; but the officers showed a determination to be pleased, and admired all that this interpreter, in his flourishing way, pointed out to their notice.
"That's a nice rug," said Lieutenant Jollytarre.
"Yes; Sultan borrow that when he know you coming," replied the interpreter.
"Those are nice pipes," proceeded Tom, following in the wake, as he was in the habit of doing, of his friend Lieutenant Jollytarre.
"Borrowed too," rejoined the interpreter, with a wink.
Coffee was handed around, served in pretty little cups of Japanese ware. Captain Fairweather, by way of making conversation, in his turn, admired these cups. "Ah! Kioto ware?" said he.
"Kioto; yes, yes," replied the interpreter, to whom the remark was addressed. "Chinaman keep shop in Bruni. Sultan borrow cups of him." Thereupon he winked more decidedly than before.
"Well!" exclaimed Tom; "don't the Sultan own anything? I suppose the slippers on his feet are his at least."
"Borrowed," ejaculated the interpreter, with a chuckle.
Tom was now convulsed with laughter; seeing which, the interpreter winked again—this time gravely.