Alf clutched his aching head.
"No, no!" he shouted imploringly. "Stop it. Farr—Mr. Farr! Take 'em away!"
"Lord," said Mustapha, entering and bowing gravely. "I am here."
"Turn them shameless 'ussies out o' my room. What are they doin' 'ere? I never 'eard o' such goin's on."
"Verily, Lord, they are the ladies of thy household, whose duty it is to be present at thy levée. And these others are ladies skilled in music, who are about to wish thee good-morrow with a concert of soft sounds."
"Not if I know it—not while I've got a 'ead on me like this, any'ow. Clear 'em all out, every last one of 'em—men as well."
Mustapha said a few words to the concourse, which went away saying no word but looking very much astonished.
"An' now," said Alf, "where's me clothes?"
"Lord, they are here." Mustapha indicated a magnificent garment which was lying with a jeweled turban on a cushion at the side of the bed.