At dinner Mr. Kassala conducted himself with ease, and spoke with great fluency on many matters; so much so that Mr. Marmaduke Percy, no doubt feeling that the Asiatic was monopolizing too much attention, asked him somewhat abruptly where he had acquired his excellent English. "I had it from one of your countrymen, sir," replied Mr. Kassala pleasantly. "He was engaged in the smuggling of aniline dyes into Persia. Of course, I did not know his real occupation, or I should have had nothing to do with him. He pretended to import chocolates and acid drops and--barley-sugar, I think he called it--and such-like things; but they were all filled with aniline colours. In return for language lessons he got me to introduce him to the chief of the Persian frontier Customs, whom he bribed for his purposes. He made a large fortune before the Shah discovered that the colours of the Palace carpets were fading. My friend, the chief of the frontier Customs, was beheaded, and three dyers were put into plaster of Paris; but the Englishman escaped. His name was Benjamin Watts. Do you happen to know him, sir?" The episcopal circle was justly shocked at this recital of their countryman's perfidy, and Mr. Percy warmly repudiated any knowledge of Mr. Watts. The Bishop found his guest profoundly interesting, and he twice made notes in his pocket-book about Asiatic matters. The ladies left the room regretfully. The chaplain, who was of an extremely bashful temperament, now put a question that had been trembling on his tongue all the dinner hour. "Is not your village somewhere near Mount Ararat?" "Certainly. We can see its snow-capped summit quite plainly from Mush. With a telescope we can even discern where the Ark rested after the Flood." The Bishop looked at his guest reprovingly, for jokes on such matters grieved him deeply. "I mean it, your Grace," said Kassala. "Surely you heard that the Ark itself was discovered about three months ago?" "What?" exclaimed the Bishop and the chaplain together. "The Ark discovered?"