"Palace, my dear old fellow. It's the Windsor Castle of Turkey, where the Sultan prays and smokes, and signs death sentences of his Christian subjects." "Amazing small rooms," remarked the Dumpy Philosopher curtly. "The Turks don't cover the whole of their floors like we do," explained the Captain. "When the Sultan wants to pray, they spread a mat like this before the throne, and he comes down on it. When he's done praying, they roll up the mat and chuck it out of the window, for the Sultan never uses the same bit of carpet twice. I happened to be passing underneath his window when this particular mat was thrown out, so I picked it up and nipped off with it, though Christians are forbidden by the law of Turkey to touch anything the Sultan has even looked at." "Didn't 'em try to stop ye?" asked a lady. "They did," said the Captain grimly. "Though boasting isn't much in my line, they did try to stop me--officers of the army, ministers of state, officials of the court, men in the street--but Turks have enormous noses, while I own an uncommon big fist; and when one big thing, my dear, aims at another big thing, they are bound to meet. You can see the bloodstains on the carpet yet," declared the Captain, indicating a corner where Bessie had upset the furniture polish. "I do wish poor dear William wouldn't read so many newspapers," sighed Mrs. Drake in the background. "Now, my dear friends and neighbours," continued the showman, warming to his work, "although fully conscious of my own unworthiness, I beg to draw your attention to this pedigree of my family, framed in English oak, and most beautifully decorated in the national colours by one of our leading artists. It commences, you see, with the name of my illustrious ancestor, Sir Francis Drake, the mighty admiral who, almost unaided, sent the Spanish _Armada_ to the bottom of the Irish Sea. The head of the family has been honoured with the name of Francis ever since: the same name, ladies and gentlemen, and the same undaunted spirit. Boasting is painful to any member of the Drake family, yet I would say--give me the Irish Sea and some English ships; give me a hostile Navy, such as was faced by my immortal propogand ... my imperishable protogent ... my eternal prognosticator--that's the word, dear people--and if you think I'm boasting, I am very sorry for your opinion of Devonshire manliness and courage." "You ha' forgot to mention what you might do to the hostile Navy," reminded Squinting Jack. "Send it to the bottom," roared the Captain. "I can't bear to listen when he gets near the pedigree," murmured Mrs. Drake. "He will not remember he made it all up. And he has made me promise to put Francis on the gravestone." "Wur Queen Elizabeth one of your descendants too?" inquired the Gentle Shepherd in great awe.