“But I am the Khan’s vizier!” protested the old man, trembling despite his effort at command.
A rugged warrior faced him and bowed low.
“In all else, master, your word is law,” said he, courteously. “But in the chamber of death the physician rules supreme—by the grace of Allah and the will of His Highness the Khan.”
Agahr turned and waited with the others in silence.
It was not long. A tall Arab slave, known as a favorite attendant of the Lion of Mekran,appeared upon the stairs and called aloud:
“Burah Khan, son of Keedar the Great, Headsman of the Nine Tribes of Baluchi and Defender of the Faith, commands the Sirdars of the Nation and the officers of his household to attend him!”
They obeyed at once, fully conscious of the mighty import of the message. The sirdars came first, followed by Agahr and the civil officers and then a long train of household retainers of lesser rank—all proceeding with dignified steps up the marble stairway, along the gallery, and so into the spacious chamber of the Khan.
The Arab slave, acting as major-domo, ranged them in the order of their rank, facing the curtained alcove in which lay the body of their ruler.
Then, as silence fell upon the throng, the curtains were drawn and those assembled gazed upon an impressive scene.
Upon a couch covered with costly furs reclined the Khan, his sunken features dimly outlined in the soft light and the jewelled stars upon his breast glinting darkly as hisbosom rose and fell. Over him bent the strange physician, administering from a golden cup the draught which it was understood would restore the sick man to intelligence for a brief period. But after a glance at this tableau all eyes were turned to the upright form of a young man standing with folded arms at the head of the couch. He was clad in a magnificent robe of purple satin richly embroidered with pearls, and by his side hung the famous cimeter known to every sirdar as the sword of Keedar Khan, and which had been entrusted by Burah to the priests of the monastery for safe keeping until Prince Ahmed should be called to Mekran.
There was something in the majestic presence of the heir, his haughty bearing and the look of pride in the calm grey eyes that wandered from one to another of the faces confronting him, that sent a thrill through all the assemblage. To some that thrill meant elation, to some fear; but to all it brought a subtle recognition of the fact that here was the heritage of power, that the son of Burah and grandson ofKeedar was a man to be promptly obeyed.
The physician, passing an arm under the sick man’s head, supported him to a sitting position, and Burah Khan, after taking his son’s right hand in his own, began speaking to his people slowly and in low, halting accents.
“Here—is Prince—Ahmed, my son and rightful—heir. I, Burah Khan, standing—in the shadow of—death, do acknowledge him to be my—successor—to the throne of Mekran. Sirdars of the—Nine—Mighty Tribes of the—Baluchi, do ye, also, acknowledge him—to be your—Khan and Master—when I am gone?”
So still was the throng that every word of the faltering voice was distinctly heard. As it ceased the nine sirdars drew their swords and cast them at Ahmed’s feet, crying aloud:
“We acknowledge Ahmed to be our Khan, when Allah claims his sire, Burah Khan.”
Answering the shout was a sob and a sudden fall. The spectators drew aside with significant looks as slaves carried the faintingvizier from the chamber. Then all eyes turned again to the alcove.
Burah lay back upon his couch with closed eyes, and Ahmed knelt beside him.
The physician bent over and placed an ear above the old man’s heart. Then he stood erect and signed to the Arab to draw the curtain.
“Burah Khan is dead,” said he, solemnly. “May Allah and the Prophet grant him peace!”
The curtain fell, and very humbly and reverently the assembled people bowed their heads and crept from the chamber of death.
“Behold the walls of Mekran!” said Kasam proudly.
They had been riding all afternoon through a beautiful and fertile valley, rich with fields of waving grain, tracts of vegetables, vineyards and orchards, all tended by the Kendars, Brahoes and Melinos, for the warlike Baluchi were too dignified to till the soil. It was from this valley that the city of Mekran derived its main sustenance and support, and now, as they mounted a little eminence, the city itself came into view—a huge, whitewashed stone wall above which peeped the roofs of many dwellings, mosques and palaces.
“The palace of the khan,” said Kasam, “is near the center, beside the famous bubbling pools of Mekran. You may tell it by the high towers and minarets. It is all builtof marble and its gardens are more beautiful than any in Europe.”
“You may well be proud of this great city, which you are so soon to rule,” observed Bessie, instantly connecting the prince with the place of his nativity. “It is one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen.”
“We must make this an important depot for the new railway,” said the Colonel, with something like enthusiasm. “The whole world will come to see Mekran when the journey can be made in Pullmans.”
But as they drew nearer and the sun sank toward the horizon Mekran lost much of its beauty. The whitewash of the great wall was seen to be grimy and stained in many places, and the roofs above it showed considerable discoloration by the weather. It was an old city, and had long since lost the freshness of youth. Indeed, Allison took occasion to denounce, with some contempt, a place which seemed “nearly as filthy as the people of this beastly country themselves,” and Kasam flushed slightly with a realization that neither Mekran nor his people could be counted quite immaculate.
Beneath the setting sun, however, the spires and domes glowed golden red, and even the young engineer ceased reviling the place they had come so far from civilization to visit.
At dusk the caravan entered at the North Gate, and Kasam called attention to the thickness of the wall as they rode through, and to the picturesque watch-tower perched above the gate. Then, coming into the light of the inner city he gave a start of surprise, for lining the sides of the narrow street were solid ranks of Baluchi warriors, both mounted and on foot, who stood so silently in their places that their presence was all unsuspected until the Prince came full upon them. Hesitating, he reigned in his horse, and at that moment the iron gates fell with a clang behind the last of his cavalcade.
“You are going to have a reception, Prince,” remarked Dr. Warner, who rode near the guide.
Kasam muttered a curse and urged forward his horse. The Baluchi instantly closed their ranks, surrounding him with a solid phalanx.
“Welcome to Mekran, my lord,” said a voice, and Kasam turned to find the warrior he had rescued in the desert riding at his stirrup. There was no mistaking Dirrag. The fresh scratch upon his brow marked his seared face with a streak of livid red.
“His Highness the Khan has requested your presence at the palace,” continued the warrior, in respectful tones.
“Me?” asked the young man, startled.
“You are Prince Kasam, I believe.”
“Ah, I begin to understand. You have betrayed me as a fitting return for having saved your life. It was to be expected in a man of Ugg. But why does old Burah demand my presence? Am I a prisoner?”
“Burah Khan is in Paradise,” said Dirrag, gravely.
“Dead!... And his son?”
“Now rules as Ahmed Khan.”
Kasam’s bronzed features drew tense. He became silent.
As they turned a corner he noticed they had become detached from the others of his party and were now alone.
“Where are my companions?” he enquired,with anxiety. “I am guiding a party of foreigners, who are strange to Mekran.”
“They will be safely cared for,” answered Dirrag, reassuringly.
“And my Afghans?”
“They also. The Khan has provided for all.”
The answers were far from satisfactory, but Kasam had perils of his own to confront, and dismissed his American friends from his thoughts with the belief that the new khan would not care to interfere with their liberties.
His own case was far more embarrassing: for the moment, at least. The tidings of Burah’s death and his son’s succession to the sovereign office of Khan had struck him like a blow. It was only the evening of the sixth day, he reflected, and Agahr had not expected anything important to happen until the seventh day, at least. How in the world had Ahmed managed to reach Mekran from Takkatu so soon?
Then the truth flashed upon him, and he groaned aloud. The tall Baluch he hadrescued from the men of Raab and escorted safely to the plains of Melin was none other than Prince Ahmed himself, and Kasam’s folly in interfering with his uncle Agahr’s plans had resulted in his own undoing!
They were at the palace now.
Dirrag held Kasam’s horse while he dismounted and then escorted the young man into the courtyard and through several winding passages. Soon they came to a small chamber, the entrance to which was guarded by the Arab slave Memendama, who allowed them to pass at a word from Dirrag. Here were more attendants and slaves, richly dressed in the crimson, white and purple of the House of Ugg. Kasam looked uneasily upon the expressionless faces, and cast himself upon a divan to await the summons to the Khan’s presence. It came in a few brief moments, and Dirrag led the Prince through still another passage to a marble balcony, where two men were seated at a small table and a third stood at the carved rail looking into the gardens below.
Kasam glanced at the two who wereseated and failed to recognize them. One was Merad, the Persian physician; the other the sirdar of the tribe of Ugg.
The man at the rail turned about, and Kasam knew him at once. He had been Dirrag’s companion in the desert.
“I am glad to welcome you, Prince Kasam,” said the khan, courteously. “Pray be seated.”
He motioned toward a chair, but Kasam stood erect.
“Tell me first,” said he, “whether I am to consider myself a guest or a prisoner.”
“Surely not a prisoner, my cousin. I may use that title, may I not, since we are related?”
“The relation is distant,” said the other, proudly. “I am of the Tribe of Raab, and for seven generations my ancestors ruled all Baluchistan.”
“So I understand,” returned the Khan, dryly. “They were also my ancestors, for the same royal blood flowed in the veins of Keedar Khan. But why should we speak of the past? Today, by the grace of Allah, I am myself ruler of Baluchistan.”
“By treachery and cunning, rather than Allah’s grace,” retorted the Prince, defiantly. “Should right and justice prevail I would myself be sitting upon the throne of my forefathers.”
“It is a matter of common knowledge,” answered Ahmed, quietly facing the other and looking calmly down from his superior height into the passionate face of the younger man, “that neither right nor justice entitled your forefathers to rule this land. It may comfort you, cousin, to look into the history of the Tribes, concerning which you seem to be somewhat misinformed. But it is not worth arguing at present. What interests us more keenly is the condition that confronts us. Through the sad ending of Burah Khan, whose body now lies in state in the Mosque of the Angels, I am suddenly called to the throne. Because of my inexperience in affairs of state I shall need, as councillors and advisors, the assistance of all those to whom the welfare of Baluchistan is dear. Doubtless you love your country, Prince Kasam, and your European education will have given you broad andintelligent ideas of modern government. Therefore I value your friendship. Will you become my vizier, and assist me to rule my people to their greatest good?”
Kasam was astounded. The proposition, coming from one whom he had reason to consider his greatest foe, was as unexpected as it was impossible. Moreover, it indicated a weakness of character and lack of sound judgment in the new ruler that both pleased and encouraged him. Ahmed was a big and burly fellow, it was true, but he seemed as gentle as a woman. Evidently a monastery training did not stimulate virility of mind.
Kasam thought rapidly during the few moments that he stood with downcast eyes before Ahmed Khan, and his conclusions determined him upon his course of action. Then, remembering they were not alone, he glanced toward the table and encountered the physician’s mocking gaze. If Ahmed was weak, here at least was a strong man. Indignant and alarmed at what he read in the dark eyes he turned to Abdul, the Sirdar of Ugg, for reassurance. That white-haireddignitary sat with composed and placid countenance quietly regarding the khan, whose words and actions alone seemed to afford him interest.
“What if I refuse?” asked Kasam, sharply, turning again to Ahmed.
“Then you will grieve me.”
The Prince smiled contemptuously.
“But you will put me in prison, or assassinate me?”
“Why should I?”
“Because, if you cannot induce me to serve you, it will be wise to get me out of your way.”
“I cannot believe that,” returned Ahmed, gently. “The conspiracy of your uncle, Agahr, to place you upon my throne is well known to me, yet I have not even reproached him for his apparent disloyalty. I can understand that the heir of former khans would strive to regain his lost heritage, and your ambition seems to me a natural one. But I am here, and shall remain. Your adherents are weak and impotent. You could not be khan unless they were stronger than my own. Because I appreciateyour disappointment I offer you the highest office within my gift. Be my vizier; trust me as I trust you, and let us be friends.”
“I refuse!”
“Then you may go free, to act as you deem best.”
“Free! I may go free?”
“Assuredly. I owe you that courtesy, even did I fear you, for having assisted me in the desert. My act may not balance accounts, but it will be an earnest of my gratitude.”
“Let us cry quits,” said Kasam, eagerly, “and start a new score. For I warn you, Ahmed Khan, that from this day I will oppose you with all my might.”
Ahmed bowed. His face showed neither disappointment nor surprise, and as if he considered the interview at an end he turned again toward the railing, looking down into the flower beds and shrubbery.
Kasam hesitated, glancing at the other silent witness of the scene. The Persian was industriously rolling a cigarette. Dirrag stood with legs astride, evidently admiringhis boots. But the sirdar, Abdul, seemed annoyed, and said to the Khan:
“The man openly threatens your Highness. We are not sure of his tribesmen of Raab. Would it not be well to take some action in this matter?”
“Let him go,” replied the Khan, without turning.
Kasam flushed at the tone of indifference. It seemed to him that he was being treated like a child.
“The sirdar is old and wise,” he exclaimed, angrily, “and the Khan of Mekran is young and foolish. Elai! the die is cast. I will go.”
With this he strode from the room, and none hindered. The slaves and attendants in the outer chamber made no interference with his retreat. Although he had a vague fear that the Khan’s words were insincere he traversed the halls, passed through the courtyard, and so left the palace.
A solitary attendant was leading his horse back and forth, as if awaiting him. Kasam was amused. The Khan needed a few lessons from his warlike sirdars if he wished toremain secure in his throne. The Prince mounted his horse and, filled with exultant thoughts, galloped away to the house of Agahr the Vizier.
Night had fallen by this time, and as Kasam approached he found Agahr’s house dark and silent. The lamp that usually swung in the archway was unlighted; there were no slaves at the door. Kasam was seized with sudden misgivings. What if, in spite of Ahmed’s assurances, the plotting vizier had fallen under the new khan’s displeasure? Much depended upon Agahr, for all of Kasam’s interests were in his keeping. Scarce a day had passed since Ahmed Khan had come into power; but much may happen in a day; indeed, much had happened, as he was soon to discover.
Answering his imperative summons a slave cautiously unbolted the door and, after a stealthy inspection of the visitor, admitted him with alacrity.
“Is my uncle here?” demanded Kasam.
The slave nodded, caught up a torch and turned to lead the way down a passage.
The Prince followed.
Suddenly a drapery was pushed aside and he entered a room brilliantly lighted. Agahr sat upon a divan, and beside him, her fair face scarcely concealed by her veil, was Maie. Facing them in a close drawn circle were Zarig, the Sirdar of Raab, a lean priest in a coarse woollen robe, and several men with restless faces that proved to be strangers to Kasam.
All were silent, even when the Prince, finding all eyes turned upon him, slapped his chest rather theatrically and exclaimed: “I am here!”
Maie twisted the rings upon her slender fingers; the vizier nodded gravely to his nephew and stroked his gray beard; the sirdar sprang to his feet and strode back and forth in the narrow confines of the room, pausing anon to cast a shrewd glance into Kasam’s puzzled face. The others merely exchanged nods of understanding, save the priest, who frowned and fixed his eyes upon the floor.
At length the vizier broke the embarrassing silence.
“This,” said he, waving a listless handtoward the new arrival, “is Kasam of Raab.”
“Welcome!” said the sirdar, laconically, and resumed his stride. Without rising the others turned to bow gravely, but seemed to display little real interest.
Although at first both hurt and annoyed by the nonchalence of those assembled, the young prince was quick to decide that the conspirators were doubtless overwhelmed by the sudden death of Burah and the accession of his son Ahmed. It should be his part to instil new courage into their timid hearts.
“I have just come from an interview with the young khan,” he said, seating himself in the sirdar’s vacant chair and looking around the circle to note the effect of his announcement.
The company did not seem especially impressed. Perhaps, he reflected, they were aware that Dirrag had taken him to the palace directly on his arrival.
“Ahmed Khan,” continued Kasam, “has offered to make me his vizier.”
Ah, they were eager enough now. Everyeye was turned curiously upon the young man.
“I refused,” said Kasam, proudly. “I defied him to his very face, and bade him beware my power.”
Agahr drew a sigh of relief, and Maie smiled. The sirdar, who had paused again, renewed his pacing.
“Friends,” cried Kasam, “the die is cast. From this day I will fight Ahmed Khan for the throne of Mekran. Never will I rest until the usurper is conquered and I am master of all Baluchistan.”
“A noble ambition,” said the sirdar, nodding approval.
“You have my best wishes, cousin,” added Maie, sweetly.
“But forbear, I pray you, my good Kasam, from telling me of your future plans,” spoke Agahr, adjusting his robe carefully. “His Highness the Khan has also accorded me an interview, and offered to retain me as his vizier in case you refused the office. Therefore—”
“And you accepted?” asked the young man, indignantly.
Agahr frowned.
“I have filled the office for forty-six years,” said he; “and surely none is better fitted than I for the place. Moreover, his Highness hath promised to increase my honors and reduce my labors, and since I grow old in serving the nation this consideration pleases me and renders me content.”
“Yet you would serve a trickster—a weak, priest-ridden impostor—instead of me, your kinsman and a Prince of Raab?”
“The man you call weak,” said Agahr, composedly, “has proven himself strong. In ruling Baluchistan from the throne of Mekran he will be masterful, energetic and supreme. Within his veins flows the blood of two mighty khans whom all the nation feared—as they will come to fear him. Had we considered Ahmed to be really weak, my Kasam, your cause would have prospered and gained adherents; but to oppose the new khan would be as foolish as it would prove vain. Already he has seized every thread of power in an iron grasp.”
The company doubtless approved thisspeech, for all except the sirdar nodded wisely and sighed. But Zarig stopped abruptly and gave the Prince a keen look.
“You are trapped,” said he, harshly; “trapped by friends and foes alike. What will you do, Prince Kasam?”
“Fight!” answered the young man, stoutly. “Even if I stand alone I will defy the son of Burah Khan. But I will not stand alone. England, the greatest of all nations, will support my cause, and Afghanistan will lend an army to fight for my standard. Before I have done with Ahmed Khan I will pull down the walls of Mekran about his ears.”
Maie smiled again, and the lean priest laughed outright. But Zarig strode forward and grasped Kasam’s hand.
“Words—all words!” he cried. “Yet the spirit is the spirit of conquerors, and you may count the tribe of Raab upon your side. Too long have I and my people bowed down to the men of Ugg. We are but one tribe of nine, but we have more wealth than all the others combined, and enough courage to match any force theyoung khan may send against us. Come, Kasam of Raab; let us leave these cowardly croakers to sun themselves in the favor of the usurper. It is our part to sound the battle-cry!”
Having delivered this bombastic speech the sirdar left the room, followed closely by Kasam, and in the stillness that followed their departure Maie, still smiling, bent forward and whispered:
“Words—all words!”
“Now, girls, I want you to tell me what we’re going to do,” said Aunt Lucy, looking over her spectacles at Janet and Bessie, while her needle continued to ply in a jerky fashion. “Your father, Janet Moore, says he is waiting here in Mekran to get an audience with the high jumboree of this forsaken country about that nonsensical railroad; andyourfather, Bessie Warner, says we are staying here because we can’t get away. Now, I want to know what it all means.”
They were sitting in the cool and spacious upper chamber of a square white house which had been mysteriously placed at the disposal of the Americans the evening of their arrival in Mekran. It was comfortably furnished, with no less than a dozen native servants to wait upon them, theirmeals being bountiful and prepared with exact regularity. But no one about them had any knowledge of the English language, nor did any person in authority appear whom they might question by signs or otherwise. It almost seemed as if they had been established in this place by some fairy godmother who had then gone away and forgotten all about them. Their personal baggage had arrived with them, but there were no stables connected with the mansion and their entire caravan had disappeared.
“I think,” said Janet, answering their chaperon, “that we are all as much puzzled as you are, Aunt Lucy.”
“Puzzled!” exclaimed the old lady, indignantly; “why should we be puzzled? Aren’t we free American citizens, and haven’t we enough money to pay our way back to New York if we want to go?”
“It isn’t that, dear,” said Bessie, soothingly. “We have both the financial means and the inclination to leave Mekran. But Kasam seems to have wholly deserted us, and we don’t know what has become of our horses and dromedaries and tents and otherthings. Even the Afghans who were employed to guard us have disappeared.”
“I always had my suspicions of that Kasam,” declared the old lady with a toss of her head; “and he turned out exactly as I thought he would. He’s stolen the whole caravan, under our very noses, and he’d have stolen you, too, Janet Moore, if I hadn’t kept an eye on him. Stolen you and put you into some harem or other, and dressed you in pink silk bloomers and a yellow crepe veil, like those creatures we saw passing the house the other day in stretchers.”
Janet smiled, and Bessie burst into merry laughter.
“Oh, Auntie! those were not stretchers,” she protested. “They were palanquins. And didn’t the girls look lovely, nestled among their cushions!”
“Don’t mention the hussies, Bessie. It’s an outrage to parade such frightful depravity in the public streets.”
“You know, dear,” said Janet, softly, “that it is the custom in these Eastern countries to veil all females from the eyes of men, which are thought to defile the purity ofyoung girls and married women alike. It seems to me a pretty thought, however misapplied, according reverence and sacredness to our sex that is in strong contrast to the bold freedom of more civilized communities.”
“But the harems are dens of iniquity,” declared Aunt Lucy, sternly.
“The harems are simply the quarters set aside for the women of the native households,” replied Janet, “and they contain the mothers and daughters of families as well as the wives. Of course only the wealthier natives can afford harems, which are naturally more or less luxurious. But even the lower classes require their women to be veiled when in public.”
“Swathed, you mean,” snapped the elder lady. “Bandaged up to the eyes like mummies. You needn’t talk to me about harems, Janet Moore; I know very well they’re not respectable, and so do you. Did you ever hear of a harem in America? We wouldn’t allow such things a minute! And do you mean to say these miserable Baluchi are not all Mormons?”
“They’re Mahomedans, Auntie—or Sunnites, which is very much the same thing,” remarked Bessie, “but if you mean that they have a plurality of wives, it’s a thing that can’t be proved, for Kasam says that even the law is powerless to invade the sanctity of the harem.”
“Sanctity!” with a scornful snort. “And don’t quote that young man—that caravan stealer—to me. What has all this to do with our imprisonment, I’d like to know? And what’s going to be the end of it all? I’ve had enough of this place.”
“We’ve all had enough of it,” said a gloomy voice, and Allison entered and threw himself into a chair.
“Is there anything new, Allison?” asked Janet, looking at her brother anxiously.
“Not that I know of,” he replied. “I’ve been roaming through the streets trying to find some one that can speak English; but they’re all dummies in Mekran, so far as we’re concerned. One fellow I met had a fine black horse—the most glorious Arabian I have seen—and he led it with a rag twisted around its neck. I offered him a wholepocketful of twenty-dollar gold pieces, but, by Jove! he just glanced at the money and shook his head. The American eagle doesn’t seem to be of much account in this neck-of-the-woods.”
“Where is papa?” asked Janet.
“Engaged in writing an official communication to the Khan, I suppose, on the engraved letter-head of the Commission. I believe he has left seven of these already at the royal palace.”
“Don’t they pay any attention to them?” asked Bessie.
“Why should they? No one in this enlightened town can speak or read English, now that Kasam has gone.”
“Where do you suppose Kasam has gone to?”
“Can’t say, I’m sure. Run away with our animals, I guess. I always had a suspicion your lovely prince was no better than a horse-thief.”
“Nonsense!” said Bessie, indignantly. “I’m sure Kasam is not responsible for our present difficulties. It’s that horrid AhmedKhan, who got the start of Kasam while he was escorting us, and robbed him of his kingdom.”
Allison’s laugh sounded rather disagreeable.
“I can’t understand,” said he, “how any decent American girl can go into raptures over a brown-skinned Oriental, with treacherous eyes and a beastly temper. Kasam’s no better than the rest of his tribe, and as for being khan, I don’t believe he ever had a ghost of a show. The last we saw of him he was being escorted by the khan’s guard to the palace—like a common criminal. Probably he’s been in prison for the last three weeks.”
“If that’s the case how could he steal our caravan?” demanded Bessie, triumphantly.
“Don’t ask so many questions, Bess. We’re an ignorant lot of duffers, I’ll admit, but the fact remains that Kasam is either a jail-bird or a horse-thief. You can take your choice.”
“Do you know whose house this is, and who is entertaining us in this sumptuous way?” asked Janet, curiously.
“Haven’t the faintest idea. This is certainly the land of mystery. We don’t owe it to Kasam, you may be sure, for he had no idea when we entered the town where he was going to lodge us. And it can’t be the mighty Khan, for he won’t see us or have anything to do with the Commission or its members. Possibly it’s that uncle whom Kasam used to talk about, the vizier, or something of that sort. If we could only find anyone to talk with we might discover the clue to the puzzle.”
“In the meantime we’re no better than prisoners,” said Aunt Lucy, snappishly. “There’s nothing to see if we go out and nothing to do if we stay in, and we’re cut off from all the news of the world. We don’t even know who’s been elected President of the United States, and we can’t ask a single question because nobody understands us. If you men had any gumption at all you’d hustle around and find out why we are treated in this impertinent manner. One thing’s certain; unless something is done mighty soon I, for one, mean to quit the Commission and go back home—evenif I have to walk and pay my own expenses!”
As the good lady paused in her speech a distant noise of drums and bells was heard, accompanied by the low rumble of a multitude of voices. The sounds gradually grew nearer, and Allison stepped out upon a balcony to see what caused it. Janet and Bessie followed him, but Aunt Lucy had aroused herself to such a pitch of indignation that she remained seated in her chair, busily endeavoring to mend the rents in her travelling skirt, caused during the stress of the long journey to Mekran, and refused to even look at “the heathens.”
A procession turned the corner of the street and approached at a slow pace, while the inhabitants of the neighboring houses flocked out upon the balconies and roofs to watch it pass. First came a dozen Baluch warriors, the royal colors proclaiming them members of the tribe of Ugg. They were superbly mounted and seemed to be picked men. Following them were three dromedaries, gaily caparisoned. Two were ridden by native officers, but on the third wasseated a man dressed simply in a black flowing robe confined at the waist with a silver girdle. He wore upon his head a round black cap, being shielded from the sun by a square of green silk, supported by four slender rods attached to his dromedary’s saddle.
“It is the Persian! It is the great physician!” murmured the people, as this rare personage gazed about him and with dignified bows returned the greetings.
All in Mekran had heard the wondrous story of this mystic who had caused Burah Khan to live six days longer than the fates had decreed, and all united in honoring him.
Surging on either side of the dromedaries came a rabble beating upon gongs and jingling bells while they shouted extravagant compliments to Merad the Persian.
The remainder of the procession consisted of fifty tribesmen, fully armed and wearing the colors of the khan. Several heavily laden camels at the end implied that the caravan was setting upon a long journey.
As the Persian came opposite the house ofthe Americans the physician turned his dark eyes for a moment upon the balcony, and they met those of Allison.
“Good God!” cried the young man, starting back as if in terror. At the same time Janet gave a low moan and sank fainting into Bessie’s arms.
“What is it? What has happened?” asked the girl, in frightened tones. “Aunt Lucy, come and help me! Janet has fainted.”
While they carried her into the room and fussed over her, as women will on such occasions, Allison turned and rushed down into the street. He was not long in overtaking the dromedaries, and, running beside them, he shouted:
“Wait, doctor! Let me speak to you a moment!”
The Persian was bowing in the direction of a balcony on the opposite side of the street, and seemed not to hear the young American. But Allison was desperate.
“Wait—wait!” he cried again, and turned to seize the camel’s bridle.
Then the physician slowly turned hishead and gazed curiously down upon the man.
“I must speak with you,” said Allison, tugging at the bridle.
The Persian seemed puzzled but smiled indulgently and glanced toward his attendants. Instantly a big Baluch rode forward and grasped Allison by his collar, thrusting him back into the crowd.
The procession moved on, the honored Persian again bowing to right and left and wholly indifferent to the cries the American sent after him. When the last pack animal had passed, Allison’s guard released him; but the engineer followed with dogged steps until the caravan had reached the iron gateway and passed through without halting, the noisy rabble shouting enthusiastic farewells as it disappeared. Then silent and thoughtful, Allison returned to the house.
“Without doubt I have been mistaken,” he mused; “and yet it seems strange that the world should contain two men whose features are identically the same—and both of them physicians, too. In New YorkOsborne passed for an East Indian, and this man is a Persian. If they were the same surely he would have recognized me, if only to curse me as he did at home in the old days.”
He found Janet not only recovered but laughing gaily at what she called her “foolish weakness.” Somehow it jarred upon Allison to hear his melancholy sister laughing, to note the sparkle in her eyes and the flush that for the first time in years mantled her fair cheeks. He had no difficulty in accounting for all this, yet when she cast an eager, enquiring look at her brother he took a certain satisfaction in answering it with a scowl and a shake of his head.
“I followed him,” said he, “and managed to speak to him. We were both mistaken, Janet. It is a stranger—some notable the people seem to know well, and call by the name of Merad.”
“Merad?”
“Yes. He has started upon a journey across the plains—returning to his home, I think.”
To his surprise Janet smiled and began twisting up her disordered hair.
“Very well, dear,” she answered, carelessly, and as if dismissing the subject from her mind as unimportant she turned to renew her conversation with Bessie.
Suddenly a scuffle was heard in the passage.
“I’ve got him! I’ve got him!” called the voice of Dr. Warner; and then the draperies were pulled aside and the Colonel and the doctor rushed into the room dragging between them a nondescript form from which came yells of protest in a high minor key.
“We’ve got him!” shouted the Colonel, triumphantly, as the prisoner was dumped in the center of the room.
“Land of mercy! Whathaveyou got?” demanded Aunt Lucy, glaring upon the strange object with amazement.
The doctor drew out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead vigorously.
“He speaks English!” he answered, impressively, waving the handkerchief in the direction of the limp captive.
Janet laughed, almost hysterically; but the others stared with marked interest at the man who could speak English.
He was exceedingly short in stature, and likewise exceedingly squat and round of form. His head was entirely bald except for a bushy lock upon the very top, but a long beard, tangled, unkempt and grizzled, reached nearly to his middle. His cheeks were fat, his eyes small and beady, and his nose so curved that its point was perpetually lost in the flowing beard. For costume the man wore a gown of red and white quilted silk that Aunt Lucy afterward declared reminded her of a bath robe, except that no word signifying “bath” could ever be properly applied to either the robe or the wearer. There were sandals upon his grimy feet and a leathern pouch hung at his girdle.
“Wherever in the world did you get him?” asked Bessie, drawing a long breath.
“Energy and enterprise will accomplish anything,” replied the doctor, proudly. “The Colonel and I went to the booths this morning to search for tobacco. All theshops in this infernal town are mere booths, you know, and all are located against the inner side of the city wall. Until today we had never visited any of these places except the nearest ones, for they all look alike. But good tobacco is a scarce article in Mekran, and we kept circling around the wall until we came to one dirty little hole where this man sat. To our surprise and joy he answered us in English. We fell on his neck—I believe the Colonel kissed him—and then we seized him and brought him here.”
“I do not remember kissing him,” retorted the Colonel, with twinkling eyes. “It must have been the doctor.”
“Oh, Luther!” said Aunt Lucy, horrified. “How could you ever do it?”
“He speaks English,” replied the doctor. “We’ve adopted him.”
A whine came from the prostrate victim.
“What’s his name?” asked Allison.
“Hi, there. What’s your name?” questioned the doctor, stirring the bundle with his foot.
“Davit, goot Excellency,” came the meek reply.
“Stand up, David, so we can get a good look at you,” said the Colonel.
So David rolled over and with some difficulty scrambled to his feet. Miss Warner began to giggle, and Janet laughed outright. Even Aunt Lucy allowed a grim smile to rest upon her wrinkled features.
“Who are you, David?” enquired the doctor.
“I iss merchant, most Excellency. Chew merchant.”
“Where did you learn English?”
“From mine fadder, who vas a Cherman merchant unt lived in Kelat.”
“Who taught him English?”
David looked reproachful.
“He knew it, most High Excellency. Mine fadder could shbeak anyt’ing efferyvhere.”
“Except the truth, I suppose. Tell me, David; are you rich?”
The Jew cast a frightened look around him.
“All I haf in de vorlt,” he moaned, “issin my pouch. If you rob de pouch I am nodding any more whateffer!”
The Colonel with a sudden motion grasped the pouch and jerked it free from the girdle. Then, while David wept real tears of anguish, his tormentor emptied the contents of the pouch upon the table. These consisted of a miscellaneous collection of native coins of very little value.
“Really, you are very poor, David,” the Colonel remarked.
“I am vorse, goot Excellency,” he replied, encouraged by the tone. “Who iss so misserable ass Davit? Who iss so poor, so frientless, so efferyt’ing? I shall go dead!”
“Don’t do that, David. If a man is poor, he should strive to get rich. Watch me,” and the Colonel took a handful of gold from his pocket and threw it into the pouch, afterward adding the former insignificant contents. The injunction to watch this proceeding was wholly unnecessary. David’s eyes sparkled like diamonds and he trembled with eagerness while the Colonel carefully tied the mouth of the pouch.Then, tossing the bag from hand to hand so that it jingled merrily, he said:
“This is real wealth, David—good yellow gold. And it shall all be yours, with an equal sum added to it, if you consent to serve us faithfully.”
David fell upon his knees and waved his short arms frantically toward the pouch.
“I vill do anyt’ing, great Excellency! I vill be serfant—I vill be slafe! Yes, I vill be brudder to you all!”
“Very good,” returned the Colonel. He walked to a massive cabinet, elaborately carved, that was built into the wall of the room. Unlocking a drawer he tossed the pouch within and then carefully relocked it and placed the key in his own pocket.
There was a look of despair on David’s face. He still knelt upon the floor, his arms rigidly outstretched toward the cabinet.
“Now, David,” continued the Colonel, calmly, while the others looked on, much amused, “you must not forget that you are going to be very rich, and that all this money—doubled, and perhaps tripled—will be yours as soon as you have earned it. And you are going to earn it by speaking English, and translating our speech to natives, and by doing exactly what we tell you to do, at all times and under all circumstances. But if you deceive me—if you prove unfaithful in any way—you will never see your pouch again.”
“I vill shpik Engliss all day! I vill do anyt’ing!” protested David.
“Once,” said the doctor, “a man proved faithless to us. And what do you suppose happened to him, David? Well, you couldn’t guess. I skinned him very carefully and stuffed him with sawdust, and now he sits on a shelf in my home with a lovely smile on his face and two glass eyes that all observers consider very beautiful.”
David groaned.
“I am true man, most Excellency! I half neffer deceive. I neffercandeceive!
“We shall trust you,” said the doctor, gravely. “I feel quite certain you will never deserve to be stuffed with sawdust.”
“How absurd!” ejaculated Aunt Lucy. “Do give him a bath and some decentclothes, and stop bothering him. If we’ve got to have the fellow around let’s make him respectable.”
“That is a task that can only be performed outwardly,” returned the doctor, imperturbably. “But even that is worthy of consideration. Come, Allison, let us see what can be done toward the renovation of David.”
As the shuffling form of “the man who could speak English” disappeared through the archway, Aunt Lucy, who had been shrewdly studying his face, remarked oracularly:
“He’s playing possum. You mark my words, that Jew’s no fool. If he was, he wouldn’t be a Jew.”
“Now this,” said the Colonel, “is to be a council of war. We are in grave difficulties, and may as well look the matter straight in the face.”
The little band of Americans seemed all to agree with him, for it was with fitting gravity that they turned their eyes upon the leader of the Commission—all except Aunt Lucy, whose wondering gaze was full upon little David, resplendent in his new costume. David’s outer robe was orange and white, and his inner garb brilliant green. An orange turban was twisted around his bald head and orange hose covered his stubby legs. This gorgeousness was due to a whim of the doctor, and it appeared to be eminently satisfactory to David. A native barber had trimmed and curled his straggling beard and the Jew had beenscrubbed and scented so thoroughly that he had a fresh and wholesome look which was in strong contrast to his former unkempt condition.
“If he is to be our emissary and interpreter,” the doctor had said, “he must be made worthy of the great Commission, and in this barbarous country color is everything.”
“Then,” replied Aunt Lucy, “David is everything. He reminds me of a brass band on parade.”
David was now present at the council, seated between the Colonel and the doctor.
“In the first place,” resumed the leader, “we must acknowledge that we are virtually prisoners in this town, possessing no means in the way of animals or attendants of getting away. David has talked with the servants in this house and has discovered that we are guests of his Highness the Khan, who has ordered us supplied with every comfort that can be procured. Why the khan has taken an interest in our affairs—we being entire strangers to him—is a deep mystery. Unless he feels that he owes ussome compensation for having driven Kasam out of Mekran.”
“Did he drive Kasam out?” asked Bessie.
“I understand from David that there is room for but one on the throne, and Ahmed Khan naturally prefers to sit there himself. So our friend Kasam made tracks and left us to shift for ourselves. All of the tribe of Raab, a powerful clan in Baluchistan, have deserted Ahmed and joined Kasam, who is in open revolt.”
“Would it not be safer for us to leave here and join Prince Kasam?” enquired Bessie.
“Why, I’m inclined to think, from the gossip David has picked up, that Kasam’s cause is a forlorn one, and that he’s not particularly safe himself. Ahmed Khan may wake up some day and poke him with a sharp stick. Moreover, there’s no disguising the fact that when our guide left Mekran and set up in business for himself he deliberately robbed us of the beasts we had bought and paid for with our own money, besides carrying off our Afghans, whose pay was fortunately in arrears. The Prince couldn’t well have treated us with less consideration,and in strong contrast with his actions Ahmed Khan has come to the front like a man and taken care of us. Let’s pin our faith to Ahmed Khan.”
“Cannot we induce Ahmed to supply us with a caravan?” asked Allison.
“That’s the point. That is, it’s one point. We mustn’t lose sight of the fact that we came here to get a right of way for the railroad. The first concession to get from the Khan is the right of way. The means to journey back to the railway at Quettah is the second consideration, although no less important. These things being accomplished, we will have performed our duty to the Syndicate and to ourselves.”
“When will they be accomplished?” enquired Aunt Lucy, in brisk, matter-of-fact tones.
“Ahem! That I cannot say, to a day, my dear Mrs. Higgins. The fact is, I’ve sent David twice to the Khan, with demands in writing for an interview. But David can’t get within a mile of the Khan, notwithstanding his impressive costume—which cost eight fillibees, native money.”
“The Khan,” added the doctor musingly, “is quite an exclusive personage. His Highness’ guards have threatened to tattoo our dear David unless he ceases to bother them.”
David groaned, thereby concurring in this statement.
“Then what is to be done?” asked Janet, who had displayed a lively interest in her father’s discourse.
The Colonel shook his head, rather despondently.
“What do you suggest, David?” asked the doctor.
David had been earnestly regarding the cabinet in which his gold was stored. Now, however, being addressed, he reluctantly withdrew his eyes from the vicinity of his treasure, heaved a deep sigh as if awakening from a happy dream, and said:
“Vy nod try de vizier?”
“What vizier?”
“De grant vizier, Agahr. He iss de biggest man here ven der Khan he iss somevhere else.”
“That seems a practical hint,” said theColonel. “I’ll write a new letter, addressed to the vizier.”
David turned uneasily in his seat.
“Letters, most Excellency, iss a bad vay. Noboddy takes letters to Agahr de vizier. Dey go talk mit Agahr.”
“Will he see people?”
“Vy nod? He iss vizier.”
“Then one of us had best go and interview him, and take David along for interpreter,” decided the Colonel promptly.
“He speaks such lovely English!” added Aunt Lucy, with a toss of her head.
“The vizier won’t hear his English,” said the doctor, “and I suspect David’s native dialect is somewhat clearer and more comprehensive. Otherwise he’d have been murdered long ago. Now then, who’ll tackle the vizier?”
“I’ll go,” replied Allison, to the surprise of all. “I’m tired of hanging around doing nothing, and this mission promises a bit of excitement.”
“Very good,” said his father, pleased at the remark. “Be firm with him, Allison. Insist upon his securing an interview forme with the Khan, and also tell the vizier we want a caravan to take us to Quettah. Let him understand we have plenty of money to pay for what we require.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” said Allison. “Come, David.”
..........
Agahr had just awakened from his afternoon siesta and was sitting with Maie in a cool, darkened room. Both the vizier and his daughter were in a happy mood.
“There has been a more agreeable atmosphere at the palace since the Persian physician went away,” said the old man. “The fellow had a suspicious manner of looking at me, as if he knew all my secret thoughts and intended to betray them.”
“I hate the man!” exclaimed Maie, with a shiver of her rounded shoulders.
“And I,” answered Agahr. “But he is gone. Let us hope he will never return.”
“Yet the Khan liked him?” said the girl, enquiringly.
“They were old friends, although their ages differ so widely; and there is a secret between them, of some sort. The physician,who dominated everyone else, was very gentle with Ahmed.”
“That was his cunning,” declared Maie. “It is not wise to attempt to rule Ahmed Khan.” She broke off suddenly, and nestling closer to Agahr upon the divan she asked, in soft accents: “Do you think he is attracted toward me, my father?”
“He has eyes for no one else when you are by,” returned the vizier, fondly caressing the girl’s hand. “But that is not strange, my Maie. You are more beautiful than the houris of Paradise.”
She sighed, very gently, as if the tribute was sweet.
“And how does Ahmed Khan spend his days?” she enquired. “Do the dancing girls still amuse him?”
“He has sent all the dancing girls away,” was the reply, “and every inmate of Burah’s harem, both young and old, has been conveyed by Melka to the Castle of Ugg, far away in the South country.”
“I wonder why?” said the girl, thoughtfully. “Perhaps, having been a priest so long, he does not care for women.”
Agahr smiled.
“Then why is he improving and beautifying the harem? he asked.
“Is he?” she cried, starting up.
“The apartments of the women were turned over to an army of workmen a week ago. In another week the harem will be beautiful beyond compare. And the gardens and Court of the Maidens are being made magnificent with rare plants and exquisite flowers. That is not an indication, my beauty, that the Khan does not care for women.”
“True,” she returned, and sat as if lost in thought. Then she asked:
“What woman, besides myself, has the Khan looked kindly upon?”
“None,” answered the vizier, without hesitation. “It was only this morning he spoke to me of you, asking how many summers you had seen and saying you were rarely beautiful.”
She smiled contentedly.
“How wise we were, oh my father, to abandon the cause of the Pretender and ally ourselves with Ahmed Khan.”
“Kasam is too weak and unreliable to become a leader of men,” returned the vizier, calmly.
“Yet for years—while Burah Khan grew aged—I imagined I should become the queen of Kasam’s harem, and plotted shrewdly to place him upon the throne. Is it not amusing, my father, to remember that I learned to speak the awkward English tongue, just because Kasam had lived in England and spoke that language?”
“It was time wasted,” said the vizier. “But that reminds me that those American travellers are still in Mekran. I wonder why the Khan is keeping them.”
Maie started.
“Are there not women among them?” she asked.
“Two or three of the party are women.”
“Are they beautiful?”
Agahr laughed, and pinched her cheek.
“There are no beautiful women but ours,” he returned, “and of them you are the queen, my Maie! However, jealous one, the Khan has never looked upon these foreign women, nor does he care to.”
“Then why does he keep the Americans here? Will he permit them to build their railway?”
“Indeed, no,” said the vizier. “He agrees with me that a railway would ruin our country. But why he will neither see the Americans nor permit them to depart from Mekran is really a mystery.”
“Ah, I must discover it!” the girl exclaimed, earnestly. “When a thing is not understood it is dangerous. And it is well to beware of all women, even though they be foreigners and ugly of form and feature. I can manage any man who lives, my father, be he khan or vizier,” with a smile into his face; “but even the far-seeing Prophet failed to understand my sex aright.”
“I have put a spy in the household of the Americans,” said Agahr.
“Whom?”
“David the Jew.”
“David is clever,” said Maie, thoughtfully. “But will he be faithful? Gold is his only master.”
“I have promised, if David is faithful, to purchase from him those wonderfulAfrican pearls—at his own price. That will make him rich, and the pearls will be your bridal gift, my daughter.”
She clasped her hands, ecstatically.
“And the great diamond that David brought from Algiers? What of that?”
“The Khan himself has purchased it, by my advice.”
“Then it shall be mine!” she whispered. “You have done well, my father. How long has David been with the Americans?”
“Three days. I expect him here, presently, for the foreigners begin to grow impatient of restraint, and I have told David to let me quiet them with promises.”
“Question the Jew closely when he comes, concerning the Americans. I must know more of them, and we must watch them closely.”
The vizier arose, arranged his robe, and with slow steps left the room to cross a passage that admitted him to the apartment wherein he was wont to receive visitors on affairs of state. The fringe of the drapery caught as he threw it back, and hung partially open behind him; but neither he norMaie, who still reclined upon her divan, noted this.
Scarcely was Agahr seated in his great velvet-lined chair of state when a slave entered to announce the arrival of David and the young American, who desired an audience.
The vizier hesitated, in deep thought, mindful of Maie’s injunctions. Finally he said to the slave:
“Admit David the Jew to my presence; but tell him the American must wait in the outer chamber until he is summoned.”
So presently little David entered the room, drawing the draperies closely behind him and then turning to bow cringingly before the vizier.
Allison waited impatiently. Why should Agahr wish to speak with David in secret? It looked decidedly suspicious, thought the young man, and after a few moments he arose and glanced down the passage. He seemed to be entirely alone, and the heavy rugs would deaden any sound of footsteps.
Stealthily he made his way down the passage toward the crimson draperies thathad fallen behind David’s pudgy form. On his way he passed an entrance on the opposite side, to which the curtain hung half open, displaying the dim interior of the room. And then he paused as if fascinated, his eyes fixed upon the most exquisite picture he had ever beheld.
Maie lay carelessly stretched upon the divan, her robe thrown back, her arms crossed behind her head and the outlines of her rounded limbs showing daintily through the folds of soft mulle that enveloped them. Her eyes, languid and dark, gazed full into those of the intruder, and as she noted his enraptured face she smiled in a way that instantly robbed Allison of all caution or even a realization of his delicate position in this household. In two strides he was by her side, kneeling at the divan and clasping the unresisting hands of the girl in both his own.
“Oh, my darling!” he whispered, looking deep into the lustrous eyes, “how very, very beautiful you are!”
Such sincere tribute was beyond Maie’s power to resist. The little head might befull of ambitions, schemes and intrigues, yet there was room for a vivid appreciation of man’s adoration, and this abrupt method of wooing was sure to appeal to her Eastern imagination. She sighed, forgetful of all save the handsome face bent over her, and only the sound of her father’s stern voice coming from the opposite chamber had power to recall her to the present.
“You must go, my American,” she said, in clear English, “or you will be discovered.”
“Ah, you speak my language?” said Allison, in delight; “then you will understand me, sweet one, when I tell you how lovely you are—how passionately I adore you!”
He clasped his arms around her and drew her so close that her bosom rested against his own. The red lips were nearer now—so near that he kissed them again and again, in a very abandon of ecstatic joy.
“They will find you,” said Maie, softly. “And they will kill you.”
“What does it matter?” he rejoined, recklessly. “One moment such as this is worth a hundred deaths!”
With a sudden movement she freed herself from his embrace and sat up, facing him.
“Take this key,” she whispered, drawing it from her bosom, where it was secured by a silken thread. “It unlocks the Gate of the Griffins, at the end of our garden. Meet me there tonight—an hour before midnight—and take care you are seen by no prying eye. And now, go—and go quickly!”
She broke the thread and handed him a tiny silver key, which he thrust into his pocket.
“One kiss, sweetheart,” he begged; “just one more to comfort me until—”
“Go, or all is lost,” she answered, almost fiercely, and seizing his arm she dragged him to another doorway and thrust him from the room with a force her slender form did not seem to warrant.
It was time. Allison heard footsteps and voices, and staggering through an ante-room he barely had time to reach the outer chamber and throw himself into a chair when David and a slave entered.
“Hiss goot Excellency, de vizier, vill see you,” said David, looking with open surprise into Allison’s flushed and excited face.
“I must have fallen asleep, David,” said the American, reaching out his arms as if to stretch them, “for I dreamed I was in Paradise, and you were imploring the Prophet to pardon my sins.”
David grinned, and turned to lead him to the vizier. But the Jew’s keen eyes had made a hasty survey of the room, and noted a curtain swaying gently where no breeze could ever have reached it.