to the shrine of the Clarified-Butter Seller to cleanse our souls and to make our peace with Allah and his blessed Prophet!”
Then, suddenly, it dawned upon Tollemache Wade that the man was in earnest, and so he tried to argue with him, told him to defer his sacred pilgrimage until after the coming campaign against Tamerlanistan.
The governor shook his head.
“No, no,” he said. “For too many years have I broken the blessed laws of the Prophet Mohammed—”
“On whom Peace!” chimed in “The Basin” sonorously and mendaciously.
“And last night, in my dreams, the Prophet spoke to me and told me that ill luck would follow my enterprise unless I repent my sins and follies and evil deeds.”
“But—look here—what about …?”
“Do not worry, saheb. It will be months yet before we will be ready to attack Tamerlanistan and put thee on the throne as the 'Expected One.' Do thou continue drilling the troops, while I and Musa Al-Mutasim prostrate our ignoble bodies before the sainted spirit of the Clarified-Butter Seller!”
Practically the same thing he said to Koom Khan, who fumed and raged.
“Thou art a fool, Abderrahman Yahiah Khan! First thou shouldst cut the saheb's throat—then thy prayers will rise the more sweetly to Allah's nostrils!”
Abderrahman Yahiah Khan heaved a sigh of hypocritical resignation.
“Heart of my heart,” he said, gently, “thou, too, art a sinner of sins, a deceiver of deceits, a curser of
