I was eager to get to my room in the hotel.

Suliman, being not much more than a baby after all, wanted to go to sleep.

We went past Goodenough, who eyed me sharply but took no further notice, and we entered the hotel door.

But there we were met by Cerberus in the shape of an Arab porter, who cursed our religion and ordered us out again, threatening violence if we did not make haste.
Suliman argued with him in vain, and even whimpered.

There was nothing for it but to return to the arcade, where I sat down on a step, from which a native policeman drove me away officiously.