"Yis, mum," replied the interpreter; "an' please, mum, I was want too, tree days' leave of absins."
"No doubt Colonel Langley will readily grant your request. Have you some particular business to transact, or do you merely desire a holiday?"
"Bof," replied the Moor, with a mysterious smile. "I'se got finished the partikler bizziness of bein' spliced yesterdays, an' I wants littil holiday."
"Indeed," said Mrs. Langley in surprise, "you have been very quiet about it."
"Ho yis, wery quiet."
"Where is your bride, Ali? I should like so much to see her."
"Her's at 'ome, safe," said Rais Ali, touching a formidable key which was stuck in his silken girdle.
"What! have you locked her up?"
"Yis—'bleeged to do so for keep her safe."
"Not alone, I hope?" said Mrs. Langley.
""No, not 'lone. Her's got a bootiful cat, an' I means buy her a little nigger boy soon."
Having arranged that Mrs. Langley was to visit his bride on her way to Sidi Omar's wedding the following day, Rais Ali set out on his mission, accompanied by Mr. Flaggan.
The Irishman soon discovered that the Moor was a conceited coxcomb and a barefaced boaster, and ere long began to suspect that he was an arrant
