The djinn uttered one guttural, staccato syllable. In a moment the multi-colored crowd had melted away, and the great house began to hum with life. In every direction slaves could be seen, each engrossed in his or her duties. Alf, master of all he surveyed, felt for the first time the full weight of his responsibilities. "I say, Eustace," he said querulously, "'ow the 'ell am I goin' to look after a lot o' niggers as don't understand a word I says to 'em? Can't you get me an English 'ousemaid or two?" "Can't be got," said Bill. "I read it in a paper t'other day. They called it the Servant Problem. You be thankful you've got these. An' very nice too!" he finished, his eyes on two langorous-eyed maidens in brilliant draperies who were descending the stairs. "Lord," said Eustace, "none are there of thy speech among the slaves of the Button. But thy steward"--he indicated the personage who had welcomed them, now waiting patiently till he should be required again--"he is skilled in thy tongue, and through him will these thy servants perform all thy will. His name is Mustapha." Eustace disappeared. "Phew!" said Bill, looking about him. "All gold, an' silk, an' marble! Looks more like one o' them pantomime scenes than a real 'ouse, don't it? An' all them niggers, an' the girls an' all. An' 'im!" He indicated once more the major-domo. "Ain't much furniture about, is there?" said Alf after a pause. "Only sofas an' things." "No. That's Eustace an' 'is old-fashioned ideas. Don't matter, though. Anything we want later on we can send 'im for. What I want now's a drink. Tell 'im." "What did Eustace say 'is name was?" "Mr. Farr, I think. Something like that. Call 'im an' see if 'e answers." The major-domo did answer. Before long the two warriors were slaking their mighty thirst with real beer. Eustace might be slow to learn, but he seldom forgot a lesson. "Ah!" said Bill, smacking his lips. "_Now_, I begin to feel something like. What's the next move? Farr 'ere seems to 'ave something on his mind. What's up with you? Speak up." Mustapha, with another obeisance, spoke up. "If my lord permits, thy slaves await thee that they may bathe thee and change thy traveling-dress for a garment better befitting thy state. After this there is prepared for thee a banquet." "Civvy clothes? That's a bright idea o' yours," replied Bill condescendingly. "Of course we can't go on wearing these 'ere things. We'll 'ave another drink--a long 'un, Farr, an' a strong 'un--an' then you can do what you like." "While I think of it," said Alf, "p'raps I'd better take the Button off me tunic; then it can't get lost." He suited the action to the word, and threaded the talisman on to the cord which hung round his neck and supported his two identity disks. The drink was brought. This time it was not beer, but some far more potent liquid. Its immediate effect on Bill was to stimulate his imagination.