"Slipper off, please, sir."
"I am waiting," replied the other, never removing his gaze from Parker's face.
"Oh, I beg your pardon sir, your excellency," muttered the bootmaker.
Dropping upon one knee, he removed the furred slipper from a slender, arched foot, bare, of the delicate colour of ivory, and as small as a woman's.
"Now, sir."
The ivory foot was placed upon the sheet of paper, and very clumsily Parker drew its outline. He then took certain measurements and made a number of notes with a stub of thick pencil. Whenever his none too clean hands touched Ormûz Khân's delicate skin the Oriental perceptibly shuddered.
"Of course, sir," said Parker at last, "I should really have taken your measurement with the sock on."
"I wear only the finest silk."
"Very well, sir. As you wish."
Parker replaced paper, pencil, and measure, and, packing up the rejected shoes, made for the door.
"Oh, bootmaker!" came the musical voice.
Parker turned. "Yes, sir?"
"They will be ready by Monday?"
"If possible, your excellency."
"Otherwise I shall not accept them."
Ormûz Khân drew a hyacinth from a vase close beside him and languidly waved it in dismissal.
