He reared up suddenly, just behind North, and had his head stretched out to strike.
He reared up suddenly, just behind North, and had his head stretched out to strike.
Georgia had turned pale and stepped back a little as Fitz looked up for her approval. Seeing her hesitation, Dr Headlam interposed.
“It really was very neatly done, Miss Keeling, though it was a risky thing, both for Anstruther and North. When I saw the crop come down, I could hardly believe that in his ardour for science Anstruther had not sacrificed North. It was a frightfully near business.”
“Who cares about North?” Fitz wanted to know. “It’s a jolly good specimen, Miss Keeling, and your beast is better than the doctor’s, at any rate. Your collection will take the cake now, I know.”
“Must it be stuffed?” asked Georgia, with unwonted timidity. “I don’t like it. It—it frightens me.”
“Oh, Miss Keeling!” cried Fitz, deeply wounded. But Dr Headlam interposed again.
“I should be pleased to stuff it for you, Miss Keeling; but don’t you think that under the circumstances it would be better to take it home in spirit? It is a new species, so far as we know, and this is quite the finest specimen we have come across, so that some toxicologist might be glad to dissect it. I think we must preserve it in the interests of science.”
“Oh yes, of course, in the interests of science,” said Georgia, unsteadily. “It is really very foolish of me to object to it,” she went on, with a nervous little laugh. “I can stand most creatures, but snakes are such horrible things. It makes me feel quite queer.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” said Fitz, moved to compunction. “I never thought you mightn’t like it, Miss Keeling. I’ll tell my boy to throw the beast away at once.”
“Oh no, please don’t,” said Georgia, “if Dr Headlam is kind enough to preserve it. You will keep it over at your house with the rest of the things, won’t you, doctor? And you mustn’t think I am not pleased with it, Mr Anstruther. It was most kind and considerate of you to think of me at such an exciting moment, and I shall value the snake always as a memorial of your bravery and coolness,” and Georgia rushed away to her own room, where she threw herself upon the divan and broke into wild peals of laughter. That Fitz should think of saving the snake’s skin whole for her when Dick North’s life was at stake! It was too funny! Georgia laughed till she cried, and Lady Haigh came in and accused her of going into hysterics—an accusation which was vehemently denied—and administered cold water and particularly pungent smelling-salts.
But the snake was duly deposited in a huge bottle of spirit, and, in common with the rest of the collection, became a prominent object in Dr Headlam’s waiting-room. It inspired both awe and interest in the patients, especially after Fitz—who sometimes assisted the doctor in receiving his visitors—had delivered a lecture on the subject.
“I don’t know when I have laughed so much,” said Dr Headlam, telling the story after dinner that evening. “I happened to be a little late in going into the surgery this morning, but when I got near the door I became aware that Anstruther was improving the shining hour in the waiting-room. His discourse sounded so interesting that I lay low just outside and listened. It was delivered in English, helped out with all the Eastern words he knew, but it was so vividly illustrated by gestures that it seemed to have no difficulty in penetrating into the minds of all the patients. ‘These all devils,’ he informed them, pointing to the bottles of specimens; ‘big devils, little devils, all shut up safe. See this one?’ he took down the celebrated snake, which certainly does look rather vicious, coiled up in its bottle. ‘This snake-devil—ghoul—jinni—shaitan; you see? This one, eye-devil,’ pointing to that diseased eye which I removed for a man a fortnight ago, and took such pains to preserve, ‘finger-devil, tongue-devil,’ and so on. ‘Now, you like me to open one of these bottles?’ A delicious shiver of anticipation went through the audience as he took down the snake again. ‘You know what will happen if I throw it down? There will be a great crash, and you will smell the vilest smell you ever smelt in your lives, and you will see—what you will see, andthe devil will be loose!Now, one, two, three and——’ but they were all on their knees begging and imploring him not to do it, and I judged it as well to make my appearance at that juncture.”
“You will have the town-boys raiding your diggings and destroying the bottles to see what happens when the devil does get loose,” said Stratford.
“I don’t think so,” returned the doctor. “They are all so frightened that it is as much as I can do now to get them into the same room with the collection. It is as good as a watch-dog to me.”
“Anstruther will have to be careful,” said Sir Dugald, with an approach to a frown. “We don’t want our characters blackened by any suspicion of dealings with infernal powers. I rather wish you had broken one of the bottles before them, doctor, to convince them that it was a joke.”
“Rather it would have convinced them that I was letting out a pestilence on the country,” said the doctor; “and they would simply have gone away and died of fright, which would be clear proof that I was their murderer. I think we are safer with the bottles unbroken.”
“I never like fooling about with supernatural nonsense in these countries,” said Sir Dugald. “It gives the people a handle, and they are not likely to be slow in taking it. As we four are alone together, I may give you a hint that I expect trouble before long. Things have been going too smoothly of late, and Kustendjian tells me that Hicks said to him yesterday, ‘Your old man has squared Fath-ud-Din nicely up to now; but what will he do when the bill comes in? He ought to know by this time that the man who calls for the drinks pays.’ I cannot flatter myself, unfortunately, that I have squared Fath-ud-Din; but if he considers that I have attempted to do it, it is quite on the cards that he will send in his bill. We can refuse payment, of course; but I am afraid that will not better our position very much.”
The justice of Sir Dugald’s words was recognised a little later, after another mysterious evening visit from Fath-ud-Din. The Vizier came to the Mission because he wished to know when his rival was to be permanently removed from his path. He had done all in his power to smooth the progress of the negotiations; but Sir Dugald had made no attempt to accuse Jahan Beg to the King or to demand his extradition. The answer was simple. Sir Dugald had declared his readiness to demand the surrender of Jahan Beg if it could be proved that he was in exile in consequence of any crime committed on British territory; but not a vestige of evidence that such was the case had been brought forward, and it was impossible to extradite him merely for the sake of pleasing the Grand Vizier. On hearing this, Fath-ud-Din flew into a transport of rage, and, from the words he let fall in his anger, Sir Dugald gathered that he had been expected to be prepared with a case against Jahan Beg, and false witnesses to support it, in return for the Vizier’s help. This was a little too much even for Sir Dugald’s self-control, and, in the few minutes that followed, Fath-ud-Din probably heard a larger number of home-truths, delivered in a cold, judicial voice that was more effective than any amount of shouting, than he had ever done before in his life. Baffled and disappointed, the Minister left the Mission, muttering curses between his teeth, and was observed by Kustendjian to pause outside and shake his fist at the building, and to spit towards the flagstaff on which the Union-jack was wont to be hoisted in the outer courtyard. From which signs the discerning Armenian inferred, as Mr Hicks had done before him, that there was trouble brewing.
On the following morning there was no change to be observed in the aspect of the Mission. Only the gentlemen of the party were acquainted with the fact of the Vizier’s sudden declaration of war, and they shared Sir Dugald’s opinion that it would be bad policy to allow Fath-ud-Din to see that his threats had any effect upon their minds. The great gates were therefore opened as usual to allow the customary throng of country-people and other sellers of fresh provisions to enter and hold their market in the outer court, and the flag, hoisted at sunrise, floated proudly from its staff in front of Bachelors’ Buildings.
Fitz Anstruther left the Mission early that morning on an errand of his own. He had set his heart on getting Miss Keeling a Persian kitten in the bazaar, and immediately after disposing of hischota hazrihe induced the interpreter to come out with him and assist him in making his purchase, as, although he had succeeded in making an Ethiopian audience understand his scientific lecture, he felt a well-grounded distrust of his own powers of conducting a bargain in the currency of the country. The absence of the two was soon discovered; but although Sir Dugald testified some displeasure when he found that Kustendjian was not at hand to go on with the drafting of the treaty, no anxiety was felt as to their safety, since none of the staff had hesitated to walk or ride about the city without an escort after the first week of their stay there.
It was considered advisable to take no notice of the Vizier’s visit, and to exhibit a readiness to continue the negotiations as before, and therefore Sir Dugald and his staff assembled as usual in what was called the Durbar-hall, a large airy room on the ground-floor of Bachelors’ Buildings. Here they awaited the appearance either of Kustendjian or of an emissary from the Palace, Dr Headlam lingering for a talk before departing to his expectant patients opposite. He had just heaved a sigh and taken up his helmet, preparatory to seeking his own domain, when a distant sound, gradually increasing in volume, broke upon the ears of those in the room. It might have been rolling thunder, or the roar of wild beasts, or the rush of a torrent; but there was no reason why it should be any of these. Sir Dugald raised his head and listened attentively.
“I have heard that in the Mutiny,” he said. “The town is up about something, and they are coming in this direction. Have you all your revolvers here, gentlemen?”
Each man produced his weapon promptly, and Sir Dugald led the way out on the verandah, the whole party holding their breath to listen to the sound. The servants had noticed it also, and were standing about in the courtyard with pale faces, listening intently. Some, as the noise grew nearer, crept back to their own quarters in terror, the rest gathered in a group and looked to their masters for orders.
“Turn all those Ethiopians out,” said Sir Dugald, pointing to the salesmen and women who had been exhibiting their wares in the courtyard, “and shut the gates.”
No further command was needed. The servants obeyed the order zealously, bundling the unhappy country-people out neck and crop, and throwing their possessions after them. But before they could clear the courtyard of the bewildered and terrified crowd there was a fresh commotion at the gateway, and Fitz forced his way in, followed by Kustendjian, and rushed up to Sir Dugald.
“There’s a regular howling mob coming this way, sir!” he cried. “We saw old Fath-ud-Din’s steward, who goes to the Palace with him, and another man, stirring them up against us in the bazaar, and when we came away they followed us, and then chased us. They are saying that we have annexed the country, and that the flag is the sign of it. They mean to tear it down.”
“Ah!” said Sir Dugald, quietly, stepping down from the verandah. “Put your revolvers into your pockets, gentlemen; we won’t use them at present. Fetch your riding-whips, if you please, or a good strong lithe cane, if you have one, any of you. We will not shed blood unless we are driven to it.”
The young men rushed to their quarters for the required weapons, returning to find Sir Dugald standing beside the flagstaff with his revolver in his hand. The confusion at the gate had been increased by the arrival of the mob outside, for they found their entrance impeded not only by the servants who were doing their best to close the doors, but by the mixed multitude of their own people who were in process of being expelled. But the piles of merchandise thrown down or dropped in the gateway made it impossible for the doors to be shut, and Sir Dugald turned to Fitz.
“Go back to the verandah, Mr Anstruther, and blow your whistle to call the servants in. Concentrate them in the front rooms on that floor, and serve out the rifles and ammunition; but, remember, not a shot is to be fired so long as we are out here. It would be the death of all of us. If we are driven in we will bring the flag with us; but until we come, you fire at your peril.”
As Fitz obeyed, and the sound of his whistle rang out clear and shrill, penetrating even the hubbub at the gate, and causing the servants to abandon their futile efforts and turn to run to the house, Sir Dugald addressed his companions.
“Stratford, you are the tallest. Keep your revolver out, and stand by the flagstaff. Shoot down the first man that lays a hand on the halliards. No; on second thoughts I will take that post myself. It is possible that I am a little cooler in the head than you, and it is certain that you are a good deal stronger of arm than I am. Take your places in front of the flag, gentlemen; that’s it. Your business is to let no one pass you. This is not an armed mob; it is just Fath-ud-Din’sbadmashes, and sticks and whips ought to keep them back. I needn’t tell you to lay it on well. Never mind how hard you hit.”
“Here they come!” said the doctor; and as the last servant broke out of the crowd by the gate and fled to the house the mob burst in with a roar. They made straight for the flag, but paused and recoiled at the sight of the three younger men with their whips, and Sir Dugald, revolver in hand, leaning idly against the flagstaff.
“Not much pluck inthem!” muttered Dick, disgustedly; but as though they had understood the disparaging words, the mob gathered their courage together and came on again. In a moment the younger men found themselves engaged in a furious hand-to-hand encounter, in which fists and whips were opposed to the force of numbers. Fitz declared afterwards that he could hear over all the din of the struggle the sound of the blows as they fell, although the howling of those who received them ought to have drowned the noise. Once or twice Sir Dugald raised his revolver and let it drop again, for in the whole course of the short, sharp fight no one actually got within the ring of defenders, and presently Fitz, exceeding his orders, seized the psychological instant for a most opportune diversion. Besides rifles, he had provided the servants with all the sticks he could muster; and when he saw the mob begin to give way, he led forth half his force to clear the courtyard. Fear of the defenders plainly visible at the windows had hitherto kept the space between the flagstaff and the house free of intruders, and now the sturdy frontiersmen, covered by the rifles of their friends behind, advanced against the foe, laying about them as they came with hearty goodwill. Gradually the mob yielded their ground. Firing they might perhaps have faced, but this extremely unheroic method of fighting disgusted them with the sport. As the defenders closed their ranks and pressed the fugitives harder, the retreat became a rout, nay, a headlong race—an obstacle race—in which every man was eager to save his back from blows. The last remnants of the mob struggled through the gateway at last, and the courtyard was clear, and the honour of the flag maintained, without the shedding of a drop of blood.
“Clear that rubbish away and close the gates,” said Sir Dugald. “We will keep them shut in future, and the people must bring their things to sell in the street outside. That market of theirs nearly did for us to-day.”
Although the non-arrival of any help from the authorities might have led to the conclusion that the riot had been inaudible in other parts of the city, no sooner was it over, and the enemy driven out, than an official appeared from the King to congratulate the victors—exactly, said Fitz, as he would have done had the result gone the other way, save that his congratulations might then have had a little sincerity in them. But the messenger who came to congratulate went away grave, for Sir Dugald committed to him a full statement of the morning’s proceedings, to be laid before the King, with the intimation that unless apologies were at once offered and the instigators of the demonstration punished, the negotiations would be broken off forthwith and the Mission would return to Khemistan. There was no doubt that it was exceedingly injudicious of Fath-ud-Din to have allowed his servants to be seen stirring up the mob; and the official, in deep perplexity, turned over in his mind the relative disadvantages of offending the Vizier by informing the King of the truth, and on the other hand, of angering the King if Sir Dugald took his departure, and the facts which had brought it about became known.
How the messenger settled matters with his conscience was unknown for the present to the party at the Mission, for the next person they saw was Mr Hicks, who flew to the spot on the wings of zeal the moment that the news of the outbreak reached him. Stratford declared that his countenance expressed deep disappointment when he realised that the courtyard was not filled with the dead and dying, and that the flag hung unscathed; but the doctor maintained that he was prejudiced, and that Mr Hicks had hurried to offer his help in the defence, heedless of the danger he might incur in meeting the defeated mob. However this might be, Mr Hicks warmed with enthusiasm when he was told the story of the morning, and finally advanced to Sir Dugald and grasped him by the hand.
“General,” he said; “shake! You are a white man, you are. You have licked that poor ordinary crowd of niggers in a way to earn you the eternal gratitude of every Western stranger that circumstances may drive to sojourn in this uncared-for state. But I guess that your troubles are only beginning, sir.”
“Possibly,” said Sir Dugald, with perfect unconcern.
“Well, if things look black, you have only to pass me the word, General, and I will vamoose my ranche yonder and come and give you a hand. I should be right down proud to fight shoulder to shoulder with the man that turned back that mob without shedding a drop of blood.”
“You are very kind,” said Sir Dugald, with a complete lack of enthusiasm. “I can assure you that things must go very badly with us before we seek to involve you in our troubles”—a reply delivered with so much urbanity that Mr Hicks could not at first decide whether his offer was accepted or refused.
The next visitor appeared in the course of the afternoon, and was no other than the Grand Vizier himself. It was evident that the royal messenger had decided upon telling his master the truth, for Fath-ud-Din came to offer suitable apologies for the conduct of his retainers. The steward, he said, was an old family servant, who, owing to his constant intercourse with his master, had imbibed from him such exalted ideas of patriotism that on hearing the treaty discussed, and conceiving it to be unduly advantageous to England, he had felt moved to stir up the townspeople against it, his religious zeal having also been inflamed by the memories and hardships incidental to the month of Ramadan, which had just ended. The other instigator of the outbreak was a young theological student, a member of a class which was often unruly and troublesome, and which had great influence with the people. It was preposterous to imagine that the Vizier could have had any previous knowledge of the doings of these two fanatics, and he had come to declare his sorrow that it had been in the power of such wretches not only to annoy and alarm the Mission, but also to involve in their disgrace his own spotless name. He had given immediate orders that they were both to be severely punished, and if Sir Dugald liked, he would have them brought in and bastinadoed before him, so that he might assure himself that they had received their deserts. In any case (as Sir Dugald politely declined the proffered satisfaction for himself, while intimating that he would send a representative to see that the punishment was duly carried out), he brought assurances that the King of all kings felt the deepest regret for the way in which things had turned out, and entreated that the Envoy would not withdraw the light of his countenance from Kubbet-ul-Haj, but would overlook the fright and annoyance which had been caused to the Mission, and remain in Ethiopia until the treaty had been duly concluded.
“Fright?” said Sir Dugald—for the Vizier had emphasised the word, and repeated it more than once in different forms—“I saw no particular signs of fright about our people. What we felt was more like disgust. Apart from the violation of courtesy and propriety in the attack made on the flag, it was disagreeably close work down in the court there with that crowd pressing all round us.”
“Ah, my lord the Envoy is a soldier, and knows not fear, and his young men are brave also,” replied Fath-ud-Din, stroking his beard; “but the women—my lord’s household—surely their hearts became as water when they heard the shouts of the people?”
“This is the first I have heard of it, if they did,” replied Sir Dugald; “but then, I was not in a position to observe their behaviour. Mr Anstruther, you were in command at the rear. What were the ladies doing while the fighting was going on? Was there any fainting or screaming?”
“Oh no, sir. The ladies were on our roof here, watching the fun.”
“But that was extremely injudicious. If we had been obliged to evacuate Bachelors’ Buildings, their presence would have added immensely to our difficulties. You should have ordered them down, and insisted on their returning to their own quarters.”
“So I did, sir.” There was a gleam of fun in Fitz’s eyes. “I ran up there myself to insist with greater effect, and they laughed at me. It was flat mutiny, but I could not spare sufficient men to put them under arrest.”
“Ah, the women were driven mad by terror. Their feet were weighed down so that they could not move,” said Fath-ud-Din pityingly, when this had been translated to him.
“And just at the beginning, sir,” Fitz went on to Sir Dugald, “when there was that crush in the gateway, Miss Keeling sent her maid down to ask me whether I couldn’t tell the people not to move about quite so much, because she wanted to sketch them. That was how I first found out that Lady Haigh and she were up there; but I didn’t think that the remark showed a proper sense of the seriousness of the situation. I assure you that it pained me very much, sir.”
“Just translate that to the Vizier, Mr Kustendjian,” said Sir Dugald, but again incredulity was written on Fath-ud-Din’s face.
“Surely my lord knows, as I do,” he said, “that the young man is one of those who delight to laugh at the beards of their elders, and to utter the thing that is not true, to the confusion of their own faces?”
“I see that we shall have to convince this gentleman by the evidence of his own senses,” remarked Sir Dugald, addressing no one in particular. “Mr Anstruther, would you be kind enough to find out what the ladies are doing now?”
“They are working on the terrace, sir,” said Fitz, returning, “and the servants are just bringing in afternoon tea.”
“Very well. Be so good as to ask Lady Haigh to have coffee brought in as well, and tell her that Fath-ud-Din is coming to pay her a visit. She and Miss Keeling had better put on those veils of theirs, by the bye, for we don’t want any more complications introduced into this business.”
Fitz departed on his errand in high glee, and when a decent interval had been allowed for the transformation to be effected, Sir Dugald, after a few preliminary remarks tending to impress Fath-ud-Din with a sense of the greatness of the honour about to be conferred upon him, led his guest into the inner courtyard, and up the steps to the terrace. Here, indeed, there was little sign of panic. There were books and work about, and Georgia’s sketching materials were visible in a corner. She herself had the Persian kitten, which Fitz had brought home in his pocket in the morning, asleep on her lap, while Lady Haigh was pouring out tea with a hand in which the keenest gaze could not distinguish the slightest tendency to tremble. The Vizier looked disappointed—this is putting it mildly, for the young men agreed afterwards that his expression was fiendish—but he appeared to be reflecting that the veils in which his hostesses were shrouded might be serving a useful purpose in concealing the traces of fear, for presently he turned to Sir Dugald.
“Let not my lord be offended if I entreat him to inquire of his household whether terror did not seize them this morning,” he said, meekly enough.
“By no means,” returned Sir Dugald, genially. “Elma, the Vizier would like to know whether you were frightened when his people were kicking up that row in the courtyard?”
“Frightened?” snapped Lady Haigh. “What was there to be frightened about, I should like to know?” The measureless scorn in her eyes and voice evidently reached Fath-ud-Din in spite of the double barrier of the foreign language and theburka, for he swallowed his cupful of scalding coffee hastily, and it was necessary to recover him from a choking fit before he could proceed with his inquiry.
“Then will my lord ask the doctor lady, who has no husband to protect her with the might of his arm and the power of his name, whether she was not terrified?” he asked.
“Frightened?” returned Georgia, when the question had been put to her. “Oh dear, no! I have a revolver. I think,” she added, carelessly, after a pause to let the information she had just given sink in, “that it was only the kitten which was frightened. Poor little thing! It was in a pitiable state when I rescued it from Mr Anstruther’s coat-pocket.”
“By the head of our lord the King,” burst out Fath-ud-Din, rising hurriedly, “these are no women, but fighting men!”
“Isn’t it worth your while, then, to strain a point in order to gain an alliance with a nation that has such women?” asked Sir Dugald, seizing the opportunity to point a moral.
“Nay, rather,” said the Vizier, retreating to the steps as he spoke, “what are we doing to admit within our borders a nation whose very women are of such a temper as this?”
“I’m sure that was the sweetest compliment that the New Woman has ever received,” said Dick to Georgia, as Sir Dugald, followed by Stratford and Fitz, escorted his discomfited guest across the courtyard.
“Major North,” said Lady Haigh, briskly, “I consider that you are distinctly rude to your Chief’s wife. I don’t know whether you mean to deny me a share in Fath-ud-Din’s pretty speech, or to insinuate that I am a New Woman; but, in either case, I think that your conduct is sadly lacking in respect.”
“I don’t think Major North meant to be rude, Lady Haigh,” said Georgia, playing with the kitten’s tail. “His tongue ran away with him. It is a habit it has sometimes.”
“I apologise humbly, Lady Haigh,” said Dick. “In any case, what I have just heard would have forced me to believe that the New Woman was very like the old one. Now if either you or Miss Keeling would do me the honour of having the last word, my submission would be complete.”
“The question is,” said Sir Dugald, returning to the tea-table with Stratford while Lady Haigh and Georgia were still laughing, “what was it exactly that Fath-ud-Din hoped to gain by this attack on us?”
“Then you don’t think he was trying to wipe out the Mission at one blow?” asked Stratford.
“No, I don’t, unless he hoped that we should be provoked into firing on the mob, when the whole country would have risen against us. But I don’t fancy that was his game. I think he must have been trying to terrify us into withdrawing from Ethiopia at once, or else into bribing him largely to get the treaty signed immediately.”
“I think he has received a little enlightenment as to the possibility of squeezing us,” said Dick, with a grim smile. “My only cause for misgiving is a doubt whether the ladies could ever again rise to the superhuman height of heroism they displayed just now. Any weakening in that attitude in the presence of danger might lead to unfavourable remarks.”
“He is trying to punish us for what we said just now, Georgia,” said Lady Haigh, amiably. “Never mind; when the danger comes he shall see whether either of us weakens, as Mr Hicks would say.”
And the matter dropped amidst general laughter, which was perhaps what Dick wanted, for after tea he asked for an interview with Sir Dugald, and laid before him various expedients for rendering the Mission more easily defensible. These measures he was authorised to adopt, but without alarming the ladies, and he flattered himself that he was successful in this, and that Lady Haigh and Georgia never perceived that he drilled the servants each morning in the outer court, or that he had divided them into watches, each of which took its turn in remaining under arms. He had the more reason for this belief of his, in that the ladies had other things to think of, for matters seemed to have quieted down, and Georgia went to the Palace as usual, while Sir Dugald’s audiences of the King were resumed, the subject of discussion at present being the exact wording of the treaty, the provisions of which had already been agreed upon.
It was noticed by the members of the Mission that the King’s manner seemed to have changed since the outbreak, and that he was by no means so easy to please even as he had been. He cavilled at points which had already been definitely settled, and did his best to produce the impression that he considered the treaty extremely disadvantageous to Ethiopia. This was the more serious in that Jahan Beg reported the reappearance upon the scene of the Scythian agent, with larger presents and more abundant promises, and it was calculated to suggest that the King wished to irritate Sir Dugald into breaking off the negotiations. But long experience of the East had made Sir Dugald the most patient of men—in public—and his staff were astonished at the mildness with which he altered the wording of a clause again and again, without ever abating one jot of the concessions he had determined to obtain. His mingled tact and resolution carried the day at last. The treaty was agreed upon in its entirety, and after being engrossed on parchment by the King’s scribes, was read through to the Envoy, behind whom stood the interpreter Kustendjian, ready to mark the slightest deviation from the prescribed formula. There now remained only the actual signing of the convention, and it was arranged that Fath-ud-Din should bring the instrument, bearing the seals of the King and the Grand Vizier, to the Mission in the morning, there to receive Sir Dugald’s signature, after which the British expedition might take its departure peacefully and honourably from Kubbet-ul-Haj.
The day on which the treaty was to be signed was an important one also to Georgia, for she had decided, after much consultation with Dr Headlam, who could not, of course, see the patient, but who gave all the advice that his experience of like cases suggested to him, to undertake at last the operation on the Queen’s eyes. The state of the patient’s general health was not yet as satisfactory as her doctor could have desired, but when any day might bring about the departure of the Mission, Georgia felt that she dared not delay longer. Even as it was, there was little hope that she would be able to be present when, after the necessary interval, the bandages could be removed from the Queen’s eyes, and her professional conscience was troubled at the possibility of leaving her work only half-done. But Sir Dugald was far too anxious to get his followers safely out of Ethiopia to be willing to spend a week or a fortnight longer in the country in order that Georgia might see the result of her handiwork, and all she could do was to explain everything very carefully, with Rahah’s help, to Nur Jahan, and give her full directions in case of the occurrence of various possible contingencies. The actual operation was performed without a hitch, and Georgia felt deeply relieved as she fastened the bandages, impressing on the Queen and all her attendants that they were on no account to be removed until the specified time had elapsed. The Mission was not likely, in any case, to take its departure until three or four days had passed, and she promised to come in again at least once more in order to note the patient’s state, and oftener if she were summoned.
Nur Jahan escorted her to the door of the harem, plying her with questions as to the treatment the patient ought to receive, and the means by which Georgia had gained her medical skill. The girl had already proved herself such an apt pupil that Georgia sighed again over the thought that a medical career was an impossibility for her, but she kept her promise loyally to Jahan Beg. The litter was not ready when they reached the harem courtyard, and while it was being prepared she stood in the doorway talking to Nur Jahan, but leaving the questions as to her own hospital experiences unanswered, devoted the time to reiterating her directions for the Queen’s treatment. Presently a burst of laughter and loud talking reached her ears from the rooms on the other side of the courtyard, and she looked across to a balcony in which the forms of several women could be descried. They were evidently attendants on the King’s second wife, Antar Khan’s mother, who was frantically jealous of her rival owing to her monopoly of the services of the doctor lady, and who had shown this feeling in various unpleasant ways. She was much too proud to invite a visit from Georgia, or even to feign illness as an excuse for summoning her, and therefore she and her faction chose to regard the doctor lady as the dirt under their feet. They drew aside their clothes when they passed her, affected to consider the rooms in which she had been received as unclean, and seized every opportunity of insulting her from a safe distance.
The adherents of Rustam Khan’s mother, on the other hand, fully appreciated the reasons for this state of things, and exulted over their opponents on every possible occasion. They prided themselves on their exclusive possession of the doctor lady, and would have rejoiced in the opportunity of denying her services to the opposite party in a case of dangerous illness. They had just shouted across the courtyard the news of the satisfactory performance of the operation, and their rivals were naturally moved to wrath. Hence they had assembled in their balcony to point the finger of scorn at Georgia, and to jeer at her and Nur Jahan, whose own position in the Palace was so uncertain that she dared not run the risk of getting her husband into disgrace by appealing to the King.
“Thou art very proud, O doctor lady,” cried a strong-lunged damsel, leaning over the rail of the balcony, “but when next we see thee thou wilt be entreating mercy at our lady’s feet.”
Rahah translated the prophecy to her mistress at once, and Georgia, in sudden alarm, turned to Nur Jahan.
“You are our friend, Nur Jahan? If you knew of any plot against the Mission, you would warn me?”
“I would risk my life and all that I have to warn thee in such a case, O doctor lady,” replied Nur Jahan, earnestly; “but what I fear is a plot of which I should know nothing.”
With these ominous words ringing in her ears, Georgia entered the litter, and returned to the Mission in a somewhat perturbed state of mind. It seemed, however, that there was nothing going on that need excite her alarm. The Grand Vizier and his attendants had just brought the treaty to be ratified, and Georgia caught a glimpse of the assemblage as she passed through into the inner courtyard with Rahah. Had she guessed what was about to happen in the Durbar-hall, nothing would have induced her to leave the outer court.
On the table before Sir Dugald lay the treaty, written out with the greatest care and delicacy on a huge sheet of parchment, and displaying the most wonderful flourishes and other decorations at the beginning of every clause. At the other side of the table stood Fath-ud-Din, his attendants crowding behind him and peering eagerly over his shoulder to watch Sir Dugald. The Envoy had taken the pen from the hand of Fitz, and was glancing down the parchment for the exact place at which he was to affix his signature. To all appearance the treaty was the same that had been read over to him the day before, and yet some suspicion entered his mind, prompted by his instinctive caution. He would not trust to his own slight knowledge of the Ethiopian language, but called Kustendjian forward.
“Be so good as to summarise that for me,” he said, laying his finger on the clause which concerned the appointment of a British Resident, with jurisdiction over British subjects in Ethiopia, who should take up his abode at Iskandarbagh.
The Armenian’s eyes grew wide as he advanced and scanned the passage pointed out by Sir Dugald. “The Resident is to have no power to decide any cause in dispute between a British subject and an Ethiopian, nor between two British subjects when the question concerns property or other interests situated in Ethiopia, your Excellency,” he said, in a low voice.
“And that,” said Sir Dugald, indicating the clause by which British goods, with the exception of munitions of war and ardent spirits, were to be allowed entrance into Ethiopia upon payment of duties not exceeding a certain percentage of the value, which were to be imposed by the King and approved by England.
“The minimum duty is to be a hundred per centad valorem, and there is no proviso as to the approval of her Majesty’s Government, your Excellency. Every one of the clauses has had additions or omissions made in it, which render it absolutely useless for all practical purposes.”
“Thank you, Mr Kustendjian.” Sir Dugald laid down the pen deliberately, and took up the treaty. The Ethiopians present had watched his actions with eager interest, but could read nothing from his face. Now, however, he seemed to their guilty consciences to rise and tower above them (under normal circumstances he was under middle height), as he tore the tough parchment across and across, and flung the fragments over the table to Fath-ud-Din.
He tore the tough parchment across and across...
He tore the tough parchment across and across...
“Take those to your master,” he said; “and be thankful that I don’t call the servants to drive you out of the courtyard as they drove your hired ruffians last week. The Mission leaves Kubbet-ul-Haj to-day.”
When the Grand Vizier and his companions had been conducted to the door by the servants, and the gates had closed behind them, Sir Dugald turned from the table at which he had been standing motionless, and addressed Dick. The work of months had been overthrown, and the success by which he had hoped to put the crowning touch to his official career rendered impossible of attainment; but his first thought was to vindicate the outraged dignity of his country, insulted in his person.
“When you made your inspection of the stables this morning, Major North, were the animals all in?”
“Yes, sir; this is my weekly inspection, and the camels which had been out at pasture were brought in by their drivers to be passed. They all looked very fit; but we have not much forage for them in store.”
“We must chance that. I should be glad if you would have our riding-horses, together with a sufficient number of camels to carry the tents and their furniture, brought round here two hours before sunset. It would be impossible to travel far to-day, but if we are outside the city the required moral effect will be produced. I shall leave you and Anstruther behind to bring on the stores and the heavy luggage. We will travel by slow stages until you come up with us, and then we must make forced marches, and get out of the country as fast as possible, for we shall have no escort this time.”
For the first time in his life Dick hesitated to obey an order.
“But the ladies, sir,” he suggested. “Is it safe?”
“Is it safe for them here? The sooner we have them out of the city, the safer they will be,” and Dick, silenced, went to do his errand at the various stables in which the baggage-animals of the Mission were quartered.
To say that the sudden order to pack up and be ready to start on the homeward journey that very afternoon was startling to the ladies would be to mince matters, for it came upon them like a thunder-clap; but Lady Haigh was an old traveller, whom no vicissitudes could disturb for long, and Georgia was a soldier’s daughter, and they were both resolved that the honour of England should not be dragged in the dust on their account by the delay of a moment after the appointed hour of starting. Accordingly, they set to work immediately to take down and wrap up and stow away all the possessions with which they had made the house homelike during their tenancy of it, and were in the act of packing their dresses (which, as every lady will know, always occupy the topmost place in a box), when Dick made his appearance on the terrace. Georgia, who was standing at the table pulling out the sleeves of a favourite silk blouse, which she had just rescued from the ruthless hands of Rahah, looked at him in surprise, for his face was grave and set.
“Please don’t say that you want us to start this moment,” she said, cheerfully. “Lady Haigh and I are willing to make any sacrifice in reason for our country, but we had rather not leave our best dresses behind.”
“It won’t be necessary,” returned Dick, trying, but with poor success, to speak in the same tone. “We shall not leave to-day, after all.”
“Not leave to-day!” cried Lady Haigh, coming out on the terrace, and folding up a skirt at the same time. “Then when do we start?”
“Not just yet, I fear. The fact is, the King is trying on a little joke with us. He has fetched away all our horses and camels, and we can’t get them back.”
“But when did he do it? and where are they gone?” asked Lady Haigh, in hot indignation.
“He must have done it immediately after I had come away from the stables after picking out the beasts for your start this evening. Where they are gone I don’t know; but we can’t hire any others, and we can’t very well walk, and therefore I suppose we must stay here.”
“But it is such a bad precedent to let him get the better of us like this!” cried Lady Haigh. “It is such absolute stealing, too. Are the servants gone as well as the animals?”
“Yes, they have all been marched off to fresh quarters somewhere. That thins our forces sadly.”
“So it does,” Lady Haigh assented, gravely. “But never mind; if the King won’t let us leave the city, we will make ourselves happy where we are.”
“And perhaps,” suggested Georgia, “it is merely that the King is sorry for his treachery about the treaty, and wants to prevent Sir Dugald’s leaving Kubbet-ul-Haj in anger. He may mean to resume the negotiations to-morrow.”
“He may,” agreed Dick, but his face was not hopeful as he returned across the courtyard, while the ladies took the things out of the boxes they had just packed. Still, the events of the next morning seemed to confirm Georgia’s cheerful augury, for an embassy came from the King to Sir Dugald, headed, not by the Grand Vizier (possibly he felt a slight doubt as to the nature of the reception he was likely to meet with), but by the official who had superintended the establishment of the Mission in its present quarters. In the message which he brought, Sir Dugald was entreated to overlook the incident of the day before, which had been devised by the King merely as a test of his shrewdness, and was in no way a serious attempt to induce him to sign a false treaty. If he would only come to the Palace to-day, the original treaty should be ready for his signature, and the King would affix his seal to it in his presence. At first Sir Dugald returned an absolute refusal to this invitation, but the messenger reappeared with it twice, adding such solemn and earnest assurances of its genuine character, that he consented to talk the matter over with his staff. Lady Haigh and Georgia invited themselves to assist at the discussion, and the first thing that opened Georgia’s eyes to the gravity of the situation was the fact that Sir Dugald made no protest against the irregularity of this proceeding.
“You won’t go, Dugald?” said Lady Haigh, anxiously. “Probably it is only a trap. Remember Macnaghten.”
“Couldn’t you manage to suggest any more cheerful reminiscence?” asked Sir Dugald.
“You really mean to go, sir?” asked Dick.
“I think so. After all, what happened yesterday may have been only a trick, as this man says, though I don’t think the King would have hesitated to profit by it if I had signed the false treaty. At any rate, so long as there is a chance of our coming off victorious, we ought not to let it slip. This treaty is of immense importance, for it brings Ethiopia within our sphere of influence, and when once it is concluded, we can snap our fingers at Scythia and Neustria. You see as well as I do that if we withdraw now and negotiations are resumed later, Scythia will have had time to slip in and conclude her treaty. I grant that we have a very slender chance of success, but if it depends on me I will not lose it. Still, I don’t wish to take you into danger against your better judgment, gentlemen. Your lives are at stake as much as mine, and if you think it advisable not to go to the Palace, I will dispense with your attendance on this occasion.”
“We will go wherever you go, Sir Dugald,” said Dick.
“Wherever you go,” echoed the rest.
“But I can’t take all of you,” said Sir Dugald. “Two of you must stay here and look after the ladies. I don’t like dividing our force, but it would be poor strategy to let them be seized as hostages while we were away. You see what I mean, Elma? I will leave you North and the doctor as a garrison, and you and the servants must put yourselves under their orders and help to defend the place if it is attacked.”
“No, Dugald,” returned Lady Haigh, resolutely, regardless of the fact that she was indulging in open mutiny, “unless Major North goes with you, you shall not go to the Palace at all. Dr Headlam and we can defend ourselves quite well behind stone walls; but it would be madness for you to trust yourself outside without a man with you that knew anything about fighting. Only take Major North, and I am content.”
For peace’ sake, Sir Dugald accepted this view of the case, and a little later the party set out with the ambassador, who had brought with him several horses from the King’s stables for them to ride—huge fat animals, most of them a peculiar pinkish-white in colour, with highly arched necks and flowing manes and tails decorated with ribbons and sham jewellery. They were provided with high native saddles and elaborate saddle-cloths, and the ambassador explained that they were intended as gifts to Sir Dugald and to his staff. Asked what had become of the animals belonging to the Mission, he confessed ingenuously that the King had had them removed in order to frustrate Sir Dugald’s design of leaving the city, but that they would be returned as soon as ever the treaty was signed, so that the Envoy and his young men might depart in peace.
Arrived at the Palace, the members of the Mission were conducted to the usual hall of audience. It was not without some unpleasant sensations that they heard the gates of the courtyard close behind them, and Dick involuntarily loosened his sword in the scabbard, and noticed that Stratford and Fitz were feeling whether their revolvers were safe. Sir Dugald alone showed no signs of disturbance, even when on reaching the hall he was requested to enter the King’s presence-chamber by himself, the rest remaining in the outer room. Before he could answer, his staff pressed around him, regardless of etiquette.
“Don’t go, sir,” said Dick. “It’s a trap.”
“They mean mischief, Sir Dugald,” said Stratford. “The King has never asked to see you alone before.”
“Let us put a pistol to this fellow’s head, sir, and keep him as a hostage until we are safely back at the Mission,” suggested Fitz, looking daggers at the smiling official, who was bowing and spreading out his hands in token of the welcome which awaited Sir Dugald in the King’s presence.
“Nonsense!” said Sir Dugald, irritably, motioning Stratford aside. “You mean well, gentlemen; but we can’t make fools of ourselves in this way. Look there. You see that there’s nothing but a curtain between the two rooms, and you would hear the slightest scuffle or cry for help. I give you free leave to interfere if you do hear anything of the kind, but pray keep cool.”
He went on, following the official, and passed under the heavy curtain which covered the doorway of the inner room. Some minutes of painful suspense ensued, while the three Englishmen and Kustendjian strained their ears to hear what was going on within. Suddenly there came a sound as of the ringing of metal on a marble floor, and Dick sprang to the doorway with a bound, followed by the rest, and tore aside the curtain. He never quite knew what he had expected to see, but it was certainly not the sight which met his eyes. The King was sitting on his raised divan, with Fath-ud-Din standing beside him. Before them there lay on a gorgeous Persian carpet a great pile of bags of money, one of which had been kicked across the room. It had burst open, and the clash of the escaping silver was the sound which the listeners had heard. They had no time to meditate further on the situation, for Sir Dugald, his face white with anger, was coming towards them, actually turning his back on the King, and as he reached the doorway he looked round over his shoulder and spoke.
“Your Majesty understands that under no circumstances will I consent to enter the Palace again. Any communication you may wish to make to me can pass through my secretary.”
“But which is he?” inquired Fath-ud-Din smoothly in Arabic, the language in which Sir Dugald had spoken. “Is he the mighty man of whose deeds the hillmen sing, and with whose name the women of Khemistan terrify their children?”
Sir Dugald silently indicated Stratford, and the Vizier looked at him and grunted softly to himself. But the King sat up suddenly (he had been leaning forward with his chin on his hand, listening to what passed), and said—
“Ye cannot leave this place without camels, and camels ye shall not have until the treaty is signed.”
“No; but we can wait here until a British force comes to escort us away,” said Sir Dugald, and marched down the hall. His staff followed him, not without an uneasy feeling that they might be attacked from behind. Indeed, Kustendjian confessed afterwards that he had never felt quite so much frightened in his life as when Fitz gave him a poke in the ribs.
“What was it that they really did, sir?” asked Dick, when they were riding back to the Mission.
“They tried bribery and corruption, North—offered me the heap of money you saw on the floor if I would sign that precious treaty of theirs and make no bones about it. I have had experiences of the kind before, in out-of-the-way places, where the people knew little of British rule, but this is quite the biggest thing of its sort that has ever been tried with me. I don’t fancy they will attempt it again.”
“Was it the treaty you tore up yesterday?”
“Exactly the same. I knew it this time without Kustendjian’s help. Well, this is the last occasion on which we shall be tricked into going to the Palace on such an errand.”
But it was evident the next morning that the Ethiopian authorities had not given up hope, for a second deputation appeared, headed by an official even higher in rank than the preceding one, and entreated Sir Dugald to return to the Palace once again. This time the King had tried his loyalty, which had stood the test; and now, finding that he could neither be deceived nor corrupted, he would send with him an autograph letter to her Majesty, advising her to promote the Envoy above all her servants, since neither threats nor bribes nor any devices could move him. Sir Dugald smiled grimly when he heard the message, which was brought him by Stratford, who had interviewed the embassy.
“Praise from such a quarter is praise indeed,” he remarked; “but you may tell them, Mr Stratford, that this fish will not bite.”
Again the deputation sent in earnest entreaties for merely a sight of Sir Dugald’s face, declaring that they dared not return to the King without having seen him, and on being dismissed they came back twice over, each time becoming more urgent in their request. Let Sir Dugald only come to the Palace once more, and sign the treaty in the King’s presence, and all would be well. But Sir Dugald was not to be moved. The utmost concession that he would make in answer to the prayers of the messengers was to consent to sign the original treaty if it were brought to him at the Mission already bearing the seals of the King and Fath-ud-Din, or else to allow Stratford to take to the Palace the copy made by Kustendjian and obtain the required signatures to it, after which Sir Dugald would affix his. Further than this he would not go, and the deputation retired disappointed once more.
No deputation appeared the next day, but the members of the Mission were not allowed to imagine themselves forgotten. Before the hour at which the gate was usually opened in the morning, a strong guard of soldiers took post before it, and signified that they would permit no one either to enter or leave the premises. Under these circumstances Sir Dugald, while intrusting to the officer in command of the troops a formal protest to be delivered to the King, considered it advisable to keep the gate shut, although the soldiers showed no disposition to attempt to force an entrance. The object of their presence, which appeared at first as a somewhat purposeless insult, was soon discovered, for when the country-people came as usual with their baskets of eggs and vegetables for sale, intending to set up their market in the street, as they had done since the day of the riot, they were turned back and not allowed to approach the gate. In the same way the cooks, who made an attempt to get out as far as the town market to do their catering, were refused leave to pass, and returned disconsolately into the courtyard. It was evident that an endeavour was to be made to starve the Mission into surrender, and Sir Dugald ordered an examination of the stores to be instituted. The result was not reassuring. It had never been intended that the expedition should carry all its supplies with it, and therefore, although there was still a considerable quantity of tinned provisions and other articles of luxury, there was a great deficiency of corn and flour, and of course an absolute lack of fresh meat and vegetables. It was obviously necessary to put the whole party upon fixed rations at once, but this measure would be of little avail if the blockade outside were strictly kept up.
With night, however, a gleam of comfort arrived in the shape of Jahan Beg, who was discovered by Fitz lurking in the lane behind the house, and was drawn up to the window by a rope. He had heard of the King’s last measure of offence, and was anxious to know how it affected his friends. Sir Dugald’s refusal to go to the Palace he approved heartily, saying that any yielding now would be accepted as a sign of fear and weakness, leaving out of sight the extreme probability that the opportunity would be seized of making an attempt on his life. At the same time, the Amir confessed that he saw no way out of the situation which would combine honour and safety. Fath-ud-Din was paramount in the council, and while he was in power no one else could get a hearing. Rustam Khan was in fear of his life, and had everything ready for flight at a moment’s notice should his spies inform him that it was expedient. The Scythian envoy was once more to the front, although no definite arrangement had as yet been concluded with him. It seemed to be Fath-ud-Din’s policy to play off one nation against the other, doing his best to secure concessions from each, while giving as little as possible in the way of equivalent to either.
“If you can get any treaty that in the slightest degree approaches your demands, sign it and go,” said Jahan Beg. “And if you can’t get your treaty, go in any case, if you can.”
“I was thinking of sending a man off to Fort Rahmat-Ullah to describe our plight, and ask for orders and help,” said Sir Dugald; “but the difficulty is that they will allow no one to pass. One does not care to court a rebuff by demanding facilities for the passage of a courier taking important despatches to Khemistan and finding them refused; and even if we could smuggle him out behind in any way, there would be a very slender chance of his passing the city gates, much less of reaching the frontier.”
“I will do what I can to help a messenger off if you are obliged to run the blockade,” said Jahan Beg; “but as you say, there is a very slight chance of success. Why not send a message by that fellow Hicks, who has been talking for weeks of returning to Khemistan immediately?”
“Because he only meant to return when our business was over, and now that things have become more exciting he is bound to be in at the death,” said Sir Dugald. “He must wait here and write our obituary notices, you see.”
“Well, I advise you to wait a day or two, in case anything occurs to alter the situation. The Scythian agent may turn rusty if it dawns upon him that he is being played with, and then your chance will come.”
“The worst of it is that our chances are limited by our supplies,” said Sir Dugald. “We have not got the beasts and the camel-men to consider now, certainly, but it is no joke providing simply for ourselves and the servants here. Both Fath-ud-Din and the Scythian envoy have the whip-hand of us in that respect.”
“Yes,” put in Georgia, for the conversation was taking place on the terrace, “it would not do us much good personally even to get the treaty signed, when we were reduced to a ration of three tinned peas and a square inch of chocolate each a day.”
“Don’t be afraid, Miss Keeling,” said Stratford. “I think I can assure you that we men will each add one pea and an appreciable fraction of the chocolate to your ration and Lady Haigh’s.”
“And we shall hand it back to you, remarking gracefully that you need it more than we do,” said Georgia.
“By the bye,” said Jahan Beg, “I think I can help you about provisions a little. I can get a small supply of corn through the lanes at the back without attracting the notice of the soldiers, and you can draw up the sacks through the window. I will bring you a donkey-load to-morrow night, and another the next night, if all is well.”
In spite of the watch kept on the house, Jahan Beg was as good as his word, and succeeded in supplying the beleaguered garrison, in the course of the next three nights, with enough corn to relieve them from any present fear of starvation. In other respects, however, the situation showed no improvement. Once more a deputation from the Palace arrived to propose terms of peace, and departed as before without seeing Sir Dugald. But this time the official who headed it declared as he departed that no more messages of conciliation would be sent by the King. After this, if the British Mission desired to abandon its attitude of suspicion, and meet the Ethiopian Government on a footing of mutual confidence, it must make the first move. The soldiers at the gateway had been ordered to allow Sir Dugald to pass at any hour of the day or night, either with or without his staff, and to escort him to the Palace with due honour. But no advantage was taken of this intimation, and inside the Mission councils were held daily as to the measures to be adopted in case the state of affairs should remain unchanged. Sir Dugald had decided to send a messenger to Fort Rahmat-Ullah asking for instructions, and Jahan Beg had chosen one of his servants, a man who was devoted to him and who knew the country well, for the dangerous errand. As soon as arrangements had been made for a supply of horses along the route to be traversed, this man was to come to the Mission to receive Sir Dugald’s despatches, which were to be sewn up in his clothes, and the imprisoned residents began to regard the state of affairs with somewhat greater equanimity, since the burden of decision in the dilemma in which they found themselves would be laid upon other shoulders than their own.
On the fourth day of the blockade, however, an unexpected change occurred. Again an embassy appeared, but this time it was a private one. It consisted of the two sons of Fath-ud-Din, who had brought Mr Hicks to introduce them and to guarantee their good faith, and a number of attendants, who bore gifts of fruit and vegetables. The object of their errand was soon imparted. Fath-ud-Din had been seized with a mysterious illness, the nature of which was unknown to the Ethiopian physicians and baffled all their remedies, and he had sent to entreat Dr Headlam, to whose skill all his patients in the city bore eloquent testimony, to come and prescribe for him. Sir Dugald and his staff looked at one another doubtfully when they heard the message.
“It looks remarkably like a trap,” said Sir Dugald.
“Still, Hicks would scarcely lend himself to such a thing,” said the doctor.
“Let us have him in,” said Sir Dugald; and Mr Hicks was invited into the Durbar-hall, leaving his young friends in the verandah.
“If you ask me, I think the old man is real sick,” he said, in reply to their questions. “I heard his groans when I called at his house just now, and they were awful. I guess the old sinner is nailed this time, any way.”
“But it is so exactly what one might look for in a plot to secure one of us as a hostage for the signing of the treaty,” said Dick.
“Well, two can play at that game,” said the doctor, who was eager to go. “I suppose I must have young Fath-ud-Din with me to do the honours of the house, but do you keep the boy here, and don’t let him go until you have me safely back. That ought to checkmate any intended move of theirs.”
“Doctor, there’s something like grit in you!” cried Mr Hicks, warmly. “What with your professional enthusiasm, and your level-headedness, you deserve to be immortalised. And your name shall be handed down in the pages of history, or I will cut my connection with the ‘Crier’ from that day.”
“Thanks,” said the doctor. “Now suppose you call in the young gentlemen and explain the state of affairs. I don’t want to get to the house and find the poor old villain beyond my skill.”
The Vizier’s eldest son understood the matter at once, and was perfectly willing that his young brother should remain at the Mission as a hostage for Dr Headlam’s safe return. The boy was therefore delivered over to Sir Dugald and taken into the inner court, and the doctor left the house with Mr Hicks and young Fath-ud-Din.
“Make the most of your opportunities, doctor,” Stratford called after him as he departed. “Have the medicine ready, and refuse to give it him except as the price of the signing of our treaty.”
Dr Headlam went off laughing, and the evening passed quietly at the Mission. About eleven o’clock the doctor returned, escorted by young Fath-ud-Din, who received his brother back, and departed with profuse expressions of gratitude.
“What sort of time have you had with the boy?” asked the doctor of Stratford and Dick, who were accompanying him across the court on his way to his own quarters.
“Oh, not bad, under the circumstances,” returned Dick. “We set Anstruther down to teach him halma by signs, and Miss Keeling gave us a little music—that is to say, she did her best to sing to the strains of Kustendjian’s concertina. I never heard any one play so vilely as that fellow in all my life, but the boy seemed impressed. Afterwards we sat in a ring and tried to talk, with Kustendjian to interpret, and all got most fearfully sleepy. But how did you get on?”
“Well, I don’t quite know,” replied the doctor, somewhat reluctantly. “I have an uncomfortable kind of feeling, and yet I can’t be sure that it is justified. But I will tell you about the events of the evening, and then you can judge for yourselves whether the matter is of any importance.”
“Oh, go on!” said Dick and Stratford together. “Don’t keep us on the rack.”
“Well, as soon as I got to the house I was taken to see old Fath-ud-Din. It’s pretty clear to me that he has a tolerably severe attack of influenza, but he thought he was dying—or at any rate, he groaned as if he did. I prescribed the usual remedies, and gave various directions as to things which I thought might relieve him. He sent the servants out of the room to get hot flannels and the other things I had ordered, and then turned to me. I was pouring out the medicine, which I had fortunately been able to make up from the drugs I had brought with me, and I went to give it to him. As I held the glass to his lips, he fixed me with his eye and said in Arabic, ‘A doctor has many opportunities.’ It was such a truism that I merely agreed, and he went on, ‘He holds in his hand the life of the man to whose help he is called.’ I thought he was afraid that I might be trying to poison him, and I said, ‘If your Excellency doubts me, I will sip the medicine myself first.’ At that he grinned in what he seemed to consider as a friendly and ingratiating manner, and said, ‘You mistake me. I trust you. So also does the Queen of England’s Envoy trust you, and our lord the King trusts his physician.’ I didn’t quite see the relevance of the remark, so I cut matters short by requesting him to take his medicine. He sat up and balanced the glass in his hand, and said, looking at me over the edge of it: ‘Doubtless you are acquainted with poisons which could be administered in a little draught like this, and do their work without causing suspicion?’ I didn’t at all like the turn the conversation was taking, but I told him shortly that I did know of such poisons, and he said at once, ‘There are great fortunes to be made by men who possess such knowledge as that, and who are willing to use it.’ I was partly flustered and partly angry, for I could not make out whether he was still harping on the idea of my poisoning him, or hinting at bribing me to murder Sir Dugald or perhaps the King, and I said very emphatically, ‘I don’t understand your Excellency, and I must ask you to remember that I have no wish whatever to do so.’ That was something of a cram, I’m afraid, but I was too much flurried to pick my phrases, and I gave him the medicine without another word. Then the servants came back, and I saw them make him comfortable, and then Hicks and I had dinner, or supper, or whatever you might call it, with young Fath-ud-Din. Now, what do you think of it?”
“It looks fishy,” said Stratford. “If you ask me, I think we must look after the Chief.”
“Just so,” said Dr Headlam, “but without frightening the ladies. I will tell him the whole story to-morrow morning. They couldn’t attempt anything particular to-night, and it’s very late. Besides, I feel a bit seedy myself.”
“I hope they haven’t poisonedyou,” said Dick, pausing and looking at him.
“Nonsense, my dear fellow. Why, Hicks and young Fath-ud-Din and I were all eating out of the same dish. If you had seen some of the messes of which politeness forced Hicks and me to partake, you would wonder that we are alive now. There was one concoction full of chillies, which has made me most consumedly thirsty.”
“Come back and have something to drink,” said Dick. “The servants are gone to roost, but I think we are capable of compounding you a peg between us.”
“No, thanks; I am looking forward to a glass of my own effervescent mixture. My servants always have orders to leave the filter full for me. Well, we must be thinking of turning in, I suppose.”
“Stay over here to-night,” said Stratford, moved by a sudden impulse. “We can manage to put you up in Bachelors’ Buildings, and it will be more convenient if you are really seedy. Besides, it is undoubtedly bad policy for one of us to sleep out in an isolated house at a time like this.”
“My dear Stratford, I have a rifle and a revolver and a whole armoury of surgical knives with which to defend my hearth and home. Any midnight marauder who came to pay me a visit would find that he had undertaken a tough job. Moreover, my servants are good fellows, and they are armed after a fashion. And then I have the famous collection, with the reputation Anstruther has conferred upon it, to protect me. Good-night: I am really too thirsty to wait talking any longer.”
They unbarred the gate and let him out, watched him cross the street and knock at his own door, and saw him admitted. Then, after going the round of the sentries, they retired to their own quarters, where they spent some time in conversation. Before turning in, they went out to the gate once more, impelled by a common anxiety for which they made no attempt to account to one another, and looked across at the doctor’s house; but the door was shut, and all was quiet there.