I then told him what had happened, and as the recital proceeded, his indignation, never far to seek, burst forth in such phrases as “Adabsiz!” “Keupek ughlu!” “Tarbiatsiz!” (Mannerless! Sons of dogs! Ignorant creatures!), and then affirmed that he would at once see the commissaire of police and demand an apology. On second thoughts, however, he considered it wiser to seek assistance from the Mudir Effendi of the School. He bustled around, and having changed his trousers and coat--for he put aside his better clothes when in his cell, to save them--locked his door, and we went to the school, where we found the schoolmaster on his bench in the garden. To him the old man poured out the tale in fluent Turkish, while the effendi nodded his head and played with his beads, and when he had finished, the old man banged with his stick upon the ground and once more abused the police. The Mudir Effendi then asked me why I had really come here, and I pointed out that even had I come as a “sayyah” or tourist, that no objection could be raised unless I be proved to engage myself in an undesirable pursuit. Further, that as far as circumstances permitted I had occupied myself in business, but that it was somewhat difficult to trade in a place whence no roads were open to the neighbouring districts. This he agreed to, and having asked me to state that I was a British subject, said he would speak to the police. He said they had a right to demand the “ubur tezkere,” or Turkish travelling passport, but none to remove other passports, nor were they authorised to annoy even a suspect in his own house. As I could expect nothing more from him, I thanked him and left, and he with Mustafa Beg went towards the Serai or Governor’s house to see the police commissaire, who had an office there. CHAPTER XIII LIFE IN SULAIMANIA (_continued_) During this time Hama had returned once with a large number of mule-loads of “run” from Halabja, and was great with projects of a journey to Bagdad to buy sugar. The road to that place was still closed, and the only means of access to the south was by Halabja and Khaniqin, a large frontier town on the Bagdad Kermanshah road. All the merchants of the place were itching to be off and away to Bagdad, for the sugar that in April had cost two krans a loaf was now selling for five, and there were days at the coffee-house when one could not get tea, the sugar having run out, and people, from force of habit, sat there smoking cigarettes and discussing politics, tealess.