“Mr Stratford! Mr Stratford!”
The words were accompanied by an emphatic knocking at the door, and Stratford sat up in bed.
“Come in!” he shouted, recognising the voice, and Fitz Anstruther entered, shutting the door carefully behind him.
“I’m afraid there’s something wrong over at the doctor’s,” he said. “His house-door is ajar, and yet none of his people seem to be stirring. I wanted to go over and see what was the matter, but old Ismail Bakhsh wouldn’t let me pass out of the gate, and told me to call you and Major North. May I go now? I won’t be a minute.”
“No, call North, and he and I will go over,” said Stratford, beginning to dress, and Fitz, with a sense of deep disappointment, obeyed. In a very few minutes Stratford and Dick came down the steps together, and after posting Fitz at the gate in case a hurried return should be necessary, passed between the lounging forms of the Ethiopian soldiers who were occupying the street, and entered the doctor’s house. Its air of desolation surprised them, for they found the courtyard and verandah strewn with books and papers, and odds and ends of small value.
“Looks as though the place had been looted,” said Dick.
They crossed the verandah and entered the house, still without meeting a soul. Here again all was desolation. Everything of value seemed to be gone, and the furniture was broken and knocked about. The only things left uninjured were the glass bottles containing the natural history specimens, which still remained untouched on their shelves. The door into the next room was ajar, and a kerosene lamp was burning itself out on the table, filling the air with its pungent odour as the flame flickered, recovered itself, and sank again. Glancing into the semi-darkness, the intruders could make out the form of the doctor, lying half-dressed across his bed, the lamp-light gleaming on the barrel of a revolver in his hand.
Somewhat reassured by the sight, they advanced and pushed the door wide open, then recoiled precipitately. The face which met their view was that of a dead man—of one who had died in the extremest agony. The protruding eyeballs, the lips drawn back to the gums, the black and swollen tongue, all testified to the sufferer’s having endured the utmost torments of thirst.
Ashamed of their momentary panic, Stratford and Dick, putting a strong constraint upon themselves, entered the room and lifted the corpse, unclasping the rigid hand from the revolver.
“They did poison him, then!” said Dick, fiercely. “Well, we will have Fath-ud-Din’s blood for this.”
“How?” asked Stratford. “When was he poisoned? Was it at dinner last night, or had his servants poisoned the water in the filter? If young Fath-ud-Din and Hicks are both unhurt, we can never prove that it wasn’t that. It has been very smartly managed.”
“Here is a piece of paper and a pencil,” said Dick, handing them to him. “He must have been writing as he lay.”
“Look here,” said Stratford, holding out the paper after glancing through it, “the poor fellow has put down his symptoms and the remedies he tried, as a guide to us. He wrote at intervals, evidently. You see, after recording his symptoms twice, he says, ‘Servants gathered round the door watching me. Refuse to bring water.’ Then more symptoms, and then, ‘Servants are looting the house. Afraid to touch collection.’ Now you see the writing becomes much weaker. ‘Ask Miss Keeling to keep collection in memory of me. Take my mother back the Bible she gave me. Good-bye all. Take care of Miss Keeling; they will strike at her next—the only doctor left. God have mercy——’ It breaks off there, you notice, with a scrawl right across the page. The pencil must have dropped from his hand. To think what the poor fellow must have been enduring all alone in the night, with those fiends gloating over him!”
They stood up on either side of the dead man and looked at each other. Both were men who would not have flinched in the hottest fight, and yet each now saw reflected in the other’s eyes the unutterable horror of his own. What chance was there of success against a foe who fought with such weapons as this? Stratford was the first to speak.
“I must go over and get the Chief to come,” he said. “Will you stay here with—him? I won’t be longer than I can help.”
Dick nodded, and he went off swiftly. For a few moments Dick sat still, staring fixedly at the distorted face of the man who had been a true comrade and good friend to him during the last few months. Then he pushed back the box on which he had been sitting, and began to walk up and down the room, averting his eyes from the dreadful thing on the bed.
“What are we to do?” he cried in despair. “It’s not for myself—God knows it’s not for myself—but those poor women!”
Georgia’s face rose up before him—not an uncommon occurrence in these days—and he ground his teeth as he remembered the dead man’s warning. He was powerless, and he knew it. What could four Englishmen, with Kustendjian and the little handful of native servants, do against a whole nation? How could they defend the helpless women who had come to Kubbet-ul-Haj trusting in their protection?
“At any rate,” said Dick, clenching his fist involuntarily, “if they strike at her they shall strike me first!”
Presently Stratford came back with Sir Dugald, to whom he had explained hastily the doctor’s suspicions of the night before. Sir Dugald’s arrival and his immediate grasp of the situation did something to lessen the tension in the minds of the two younger men, an effect which was enhanced by the prompt and decisive orders which he proceeded to give.
“I shall send you to the Palace with Kustendjian, Stratford, to tell the King exactly what has happened, and to insist that it shall be inquired into immediately. There is no such thing as an inquest here, of course, but I suppose we had better leave the body for the present as you found it, in case they send some one to see how things were.”
“But what about punishing the murderers, sir?” asked Dick, eagerly.
“Who are the murderers?” responded Sir Dugald.
“What is your opinion, sir?”
“My opinion is the same as yours and Stratford’s—that poor Headlam was poisoned at Fath-ud-Din’s dinner; but you must see for yourself that it is absolutely impossible for us to prove it. Fath-ud-Din will say that the servants murdered their master in order to steal his property. Why otherwise should they have looted the place and decamped?”
“Because they were afraid of being suspected,” suggested Dick.
“Possibly; although in that case it was an insane idea for them to meddle with the poor fellow’s things. Besides, three of them came with us from Khemistan, and were not like these Ethiopians here. They were British subjects, and would have known that we should protect them and give them a fair trial. No; my opinion is that the servants had been got at, and were in league with Fath-ud-Din. He was to administer the poison, and they were to loot the house and disappear, in order that suspicion might rest upon them. No doubt he guaranteed their escape, and provided a safe refuge for them. But, if this is the case, you see we are powerless. Nothing but a direct confession from one of those immediately concerned could enable us to bring the crime home.”
“Then you will not even charge Fath-ud-Din with it?”
“My dear North”—Sir Dugald laid his hand not unkindly on Dick’s shoulder—“pull yourself together, and consider what our position here is. Don’t let your eagerness to avenge poor Headlam blind you to the fact that we are in an enemy’s country, with several women to protect, and four guns (I don’t count Kustendjian) to do it with. At present Fath-ud-Din is bound to work against us secretly, but if we brought such an accusation against him it would be open war. The King could not give him up for punishment if he would, and it would be far easier, in any case, to get rid of us than of him. You may put me down as cold-blooded and calculating—in fact, I know you do—but it is my duty to try to bring the Mission out of this most unfortunate business with as little loss of life as possible.”
“I quite see that, sir; but when I look at the poor chap lying there——”
“You must not look at the dead, North, but at the living. If it should so happen that I were to die as the doctor has died, my last care would be to give Stratford a solemn charge to get the rest of you safely out of the country before he hinted at suspicion or said a word about avenging me. I don’t deny that we ought never to have brought the ladies here, but, hampered as we are by their presence, we have given hostages to fortune. Heaven helping me, I mean to have that treaty signed yet, before we leave Kubbet-ul-Haj; but, if that is not to be, then I shall turn all my thoughts to getting the ladies across the frontier in safety. I hope I may feel assured that my staff will do all in their power to co-operate with me, and to take my place should I be removed.”
“You may count on me, Sir Dugald,” said Dick, slowly. “I hope you will forgive what I said just now. I was so much upset that I did not consider things properly.”
Before Sir Dugald could answer, Stratford, who had gone back to the Mission to prepare for his visit to the Palace, returned with Kustendjian, and received his orders. He was on no account to enter the Palace, merely to stand without and demand justice; and he was to be satisfied with nothing less than a royal proclamation denouncing the murderers, and ordering an immediate search for the fugitive servants. Little success as could be hoped for from this measure, such an edict would at least vindicate the prestige of the Mission.
“Now,” said Sir Dugald to Dick when Stratford and the interpreter had taken their departure, “we will get two or three of the servants over here, and set them to work to knock together a coffin. We must make it out of some of these packing-cases, I suppose. It will only be a rough affair. And then we must see about a burial-ground and a grave. It is sad to leave behind one you have liked and trusted in a country like this!”
Sir Dugald’s iron face twitched as he spoke, and he stooped over the corpse.
“Can you find a pair of scissors, North? I must cut off a lock of his hair for Lady Haigh to take to his mother, for I will not allow either her or Miss Keeling to come over and see him like this. I must break the news to them presently, but they shall know as little of the truth as I can manage to tell them.”
Dick found a pair of scissors in the dead man’s medicine-chest, and Sir Dugald cut off a lock of hair and placed it carefully in his pocket-book. Then he went across to the Mission, returning in a short time with two servants, whom he set to work at their mournful task, and leaving Dick to superintend them, went back to break the news to his wife and Georgia. Presently he was summoned again to the doctor’s house to meet the official who had returned with Stratford from the Palace, and who bore assurances of the grief and wrath felt by the King on account of the crime which had been committed. Stratford brought word that the monarch’s utterances seemed to be really sincere, and that it was probable that even if the murder was justly attributed to Fath-ud-Din, his master had no share in it. He had come to the door of the Palace to meet Stratford, finding that he would not enter, and to all appearance was struck with surprise and horror at his news. The thought that the Queen of England might suspect that he had plotted the murder of her officer seemed to impress him particularly, and he was ready to order every possible step to be taken that could lead to the detection of the criminals. At the same time, he was persistent in fastening the guilt upon the runaway servants, and refused to listen to the hint thrown out by Stratford that they might have been instigated to their deed by some one higher in position; and neither Sir Dugald nor his subordinates could resist the conclusion, that although it was in all probability true that the King knew nothing of the crime before it had taken place, yet he had now no difficulty in assigning it to its true perpetrator, whom he was, moreover, determined to shield.
Short of allowing any real inquiry into the manner of the doctor’s death, however, the King was ready to do all he could in the painful circumstances. The desired proclamation was already being published in the different quarters of the town, and a price had been set on the heads of the servants. With regard to the funeral, as there was no Christian burial-ground anywhere in Ethiopia, Sir Dugald might choose a spot in the royal gardens outside the city, and that spot should be fenced off and held sacred. Deputations from the Ethiopian army and council should be present at the ceremony, and Rustam Khan should also attend it as his father’s representative. In the meantime, to show the King’s deep regret for the misunderstanding which had existed during the last few days between himself and Sir Dugald, the guard of soldiers would be removed from the front of the Mission, and the country-people informed that they might bring their produce to sell as usual.
It was Stratford and Fitz to whom fell the task of riding out to the King’s garden and selecting the site of the first Christian cemetery in Ethiopia. They chose a spot on the border of the estate, which could be easily marked off from the rest, and the official who had accompanied them gave the necessary orders to the workmen. The funeral was to take place in the late afternoon, and there was need for haste. Fitz and Stratford had ridden out almost in silence; but as they mounted their horses for the return journey to Kubbet-ul-Haj, Fitz looked back at the garden and shuddered.
“I wonder how many of us will lie there before this business is over!” he said, only to be annihilated by Stratford’s reply—
“Shut up, you young fool, and don’t croak. Your business is to obey orders, and not to wonder.”
The boy relapsed into sulky silence at once, and brooded all the way home over the disgusting state of Stratford’s temper, never guessing that it was with this very end in view, of detaching his thoughts from the tragedy of the morning, that the rebuke had been administered to him. In the courtyard of the Mission they found Dick engaged in superintending the preparations for the funeral, and Stratford noticed at once that among the riding-horses, which were those presented by the King a few days before, there were two hired mules carrying a curtained litter.
“Surely the ladies are not going?” he said to Dick.
“They are, indeed. Lady Haigh declared that she could never face the doctor’s mother if she was unable to tell her in what kind of place he was buried, and what the funeral was like, and it struck the Chief that it was just possible they might be safer with us than left behind here under Kustendjian’s charge. Our force is none too large now, you know.”
And thus it happened that Lady Haigh and Georgia formed part of the mournful procession that accompanied the doctor’s rude coffin to its resting-place in the King’s garden. The streets and house-tops were crowded with people, who gazed eagerly and in silence at the British flag which covered the remains, and at the little group of Englishmen, sad-faced and stern, who followed. Many of those in the crowd owed relief from disease, or even life itself, to Dr Headlam’s skill, yet no sign of grief was exhibited by any one. But neither was there any attempt at mockery or sign of unfriendliness; the people seemed to watch the proceedings with intense and absorbing curiosity, much, thought Georgia, as the inhabitants of Mexico might have contemplated a religious ceremony performed by Cortes and his Spaniards. The same interest was shown at the cemetery, where another crowd had assembled, that listened expectantly to the unfamiliar accents as Sir Dugald read the Burial Service, and pressed forward eagerly to see what was happening when Lady Haigh and Georgia came to the grave-side and threw their flowers upon the coffin. The party from the Mission remained beside the grave until it was filled up and a rough wooden tablet erected, bearing the doctor’s name and the date of his death, and then returned sadly home, parting from Rustam Khan and his attendants as soon as they reached the city gate.
Now that the last honours had been paid to the dead, it was time, as Sir Dugald had said to Dick, to think of the living, and the four Englishmen and Kustendjian met on the terrace to discuss the state of affairs. The latest cause for anxiety arose from the fact that Rustam Khan had shown a strong disposition to emphasise the truth that he attended the funeral merely as the representative of his father. He had declined to ride side by side with Sir Dugald after the coffin, and had displayed a determination, which under less painful circumstances would have been almost ludicrous, to avoid direct communication with any of the party.
“The moral of which is,” said Sir Dugald, “that we are by no means out of the wood yet, but rather deeper in it than before, if possible. If Rustam Khan is afraid to be seen speaking to us, or even to show the friendly feeling the occasion might seem to demand, it looks to my mind as though he knew that he had been accused to his father of plotting with us to deprive him of the throne, and wished to assert his innocence.”
“It strikes one that such a very pointed change of manner would be calculated to awaken suspicion rather than to lull it,” said Stratford—“though, of course, Rustam Khan must be the best judge of that. But we are singularly destitute of information to-day. Even Hicks would be better than no one.”
“Mr Hicks came here after you had started,” said Kustendjian, who had been left in charge of the Mission during the funeral. “He would have wished to attend the ceremony at the grave, but he had only just heard what had happened, since all the morning he was suffering from a fit of indigestion, induced by the dishes at the Vizier’s dinner last night.”
“Well, it’s evident that he was not poisoned,” said Dick, “for Fath-ud-Din would have done his work more effectually, for one thing; and again, I know that I have invariably had the same experience myself after a big native dinner in India or Khemistan. But he seems to be no better provided with news than we are. I wonder what has become of Jahan Beg.”
“That is just the question that has occurred to me,” said Sir Dugald. “It is possible that his house is watched, and that he does not dare to come here. But I hope his silence may mean merely that he has found a good opportunity for sending off his messenger, and that he did not wait for despatches or further directions from me, but packed him off at once.”
“But supposing you hear, in the course of the next two or three weeks, that the force you want is awaiting your orders at Fort Rahmat-Ullah, what action do you propose to take, sir?” asked Dick.
“Simply to inform the King that I am about to withdraw the Mission. If he will send troops to escort us to the frontier, as he did when we came, it will be all right; but, if not, I shall order a sufficient force to march to our assistance. It would not be a military expedition, of course—merely a baggage-train with an armed escort—but the King could not refuse it passage without open war. That would necessitate his throwing himself into the arms of Scythia, which he is very shy of doing; and it is my impression that when he discovers we have the help we need at no great distance, he will change his mind, sign the treaty, and allow us to take back to Khemistan peace with honour.”
“But he would naturally begin a war, if he did decide upon one, by wiping out the Mission,” suggested Dick, “or he might provide us with an escort which had instructions to murder us all on the way. It would come to pretty much the same thing in either case, so far as we were concerned.”
“Risks of that kind one must take in the course of business,” said Sir Dugald. “We can’t very well remain permanently at Kubbet-ul-Haj on our present footing, but we will do our best to avoid playing the part of victims in another Kurd-Cabul disaster.”
“Do you think they will make any further attempts to induce us to accept their treaty, Sir Dugald?” asked Stratford.
“I think it is fairly certain that they will, believing that we have been thrown off our guard by their friendliness to-day. As soon as Fath-ud-Din is about again, we shall probably have him here, trying his old tricks once more; but I have a pleasant little surprise in store for him. I shall make it clear that all negotiations are to be carried on at this house, and that neither I nor any of you will go to the Palace on any business whatever connected with the treaty. I am not going to risk the loss of any more lives by dividing our force, but I shall not tell him that. It will be a disagreeable shock to him to find that we only become stiffer in our demands as our position grows more precarious, and he will think we possess some sort of moral support behind the scenes of which he is ignorant.”
“What a fire-eater the Chief is!” said Stratford later to Dick. “He ought to have commanded one of Nelson’s line-of-battle ships, and engaged a whole French fleet before he went down with guns double-shotted and colours flying.”
“A regular old fighting-cock!” said Dick, affectionately. “If we hadn’t had the ladies with us, we should have seen him bearding the King in the Palace itself, and defying Fath-ud-Din and the whole Ethiopian army to their faces, I’m convinced. As it is—well, our prospects don’t look particularly brilliant just now, but I feel that if there is a man on earth who can get us out of this fix, it’s the Chief.”
They were superintending the removal of the collection from Dr Headlam’s desolate house to the Mission, and gathering together such poor scraps of personal property as the marauders had overlooked or left behind as worthless, to take home to his mother. When the place was cleared they locked the door and delivered the key to the landlord, who received it with a gloomy face, remarking that he never expected to be able to find another tenant. Dick thought that he was attempting to gain an increase of the substantial rent (as things go in Ethiopia), which had already been paid him, but the landlord had gauged correctly the character of his fellow-citizens. The house stood empty for a long time, gaining a bad reputation without any tangible reason; but at last, for an ample remuneration, a man was found bold enough to sleep there, in order to prove that there was nothing wrong about the place. But that bold man let himself down over the wall into the street in the middle of the night by means of his turban, leaving his mattress behind him; and the next day he told his friends that he had been awakened by hearing the well-known clink of a medicine-bottle against the measuring-glass, and, cautiously uncovering his head, had looked out to see the ghost of the English doctor standing at a phantom table and mixing immaterial drugs. That was enough, and the house was left desolate until it ultimately fell into decay.
But this is anticipating, and we must return to the days when the presence of a British envoy was an abiding reality in Kubbet-ul-Haj, and not the shadowy tradition which it has since become. For a day or two the party at the Mission were left undisturbed, although the absence of any message from Jahan Beg robbed their tranquillity of some of its attractiveness. The enforced seclusion within the walls of the house could not fail to tell on the spirits of most of them; but it was a point of honour with all to maintain an appearance of cheerfulness for the sake of the rest, and those who possessed hobbies found them a great help in this endeavour. Stratford studied Ethiopian, Dick laboured at the map of the country which he had begun during the journey from the frontier to the city, and Fitz, who was the unresisting victim of a camera which accompanied him wherever he went, photographed everything and everybody. Georgia had an object of interest peculiarly her own in the perplexing conduct of Dick, who had changed his place at meals, and contrived always to secure a seat between Lady Haigh and herself, so that he could appropriate the first cup of tea or coffee poured out, which it was naturally his duty to pass on to Miss Keeling. Georgia pondered over this behaviour of his for some little time without gaining any light upon it, and at last opened her mind to her usual confidante.
“Lady Haigh, have you noticed the queer way in which Major North behaves at meals? He won’t pass things, and I am sure it isn’t through absence of mind, for he apologises at the time, and looks so dreadfully confused.”
“Well, my dear child, I am sure there is nothing in all this for which to blame him. Certainly you ought to be the very last person to complain.”
“I, Lady Haigh?”
“Is it possible that you don’t guess his reason, Georgie?”
“Really and truly I haven’t an idea what it can be.”
“Then I think you ought to be enlightened. You remember that paper which the poor doctor left, in which he warned us that you would probably be the next of us to be attacked? Well, Major North doesn’t mean you to be poisoned if he can prevent it. That’s all, and it explains his eccentric behaviour fully.”
“Oh!” Georgia sat silent, a vivid crimson spreading over her face. “But it isn’t fair that he should be allowed to risk his life in that way, Lady Haigh,” she said at last.
“Very well, my dear; tell him so.”
“But that would sound so ungrateful. Couldn’t you tell him?”
“I could say that you would prefer to be poisoned rather than to be helped after him, certainly.”
“Oh, Lady Haigh, you are unkind; you know it isn’t that! It is that I can’t bear him to be always running the risk of being poisoned instead of me.”
“Well, if you want my opinion, I should say that was a matter for Major North to decide for himself.”
“Excuse me—I think it is a thing for me to decide.”
“My dear Georgie, you are very persistent. I can only repeat—settle it yourself with Major North.”
But as Lady Haigh had foreseen, Georgia decided that it was not advisable to broach the subject to Dick, and the matter was therefore left untouched.
Sir Dugald’s prophecy as to the probable resumption of negotiations on the part of the Ethiopians proved correct, for within a week after the doctor’s death Fath-ud-Din, now completely recovered from his illness, appeared once more at the Mission. As the visit was ostensibly one of condolence, Sir Dugald granted him an interview; but when the Vizier had spent the orthodox length of time in bemoaning the loss of Dr Headlam, and in remarking piously, for the consolation of his host, that these things were ordered by fate and could not be averted, he turned suddenly to business. Taking from the hands of his confidential scribe, who alone of all his attendants had accompanied him into the Durbar-hall, a roll of parchment which bore a family likeness to the various abortive treaties already discussed and rejected, he presented it to Sir Dugald and requested him to read it. Sir Dugald had now become so much accustomed to mental exercises of the kind that he could detect an unsound clause by eye or by instinct rather than by actual perception; but for the sake of appearances he beckoned to Kustendjian to come and read the document through to him quickly. When the reading was finished Kustendjian was pale with excitement, and Stratford and Dick were looking at one another in bewilderment over Sir Dugald’s head, for, with the exception of one or two minute alterations affecting the wording rather than the matter, the treaty was identical with that first agreed to, and ever since rejected by the King and Fath-ud-Din. That estimable person now sat smiling benevolently at the astonished faces of his hosts, and, while their eyes were still fixed upon him, began to make significant passes of the thumb of his right hand over the forefinger—a gesture which was immediately understood by all the members of the party except Fitz, for whom this journey was his first experience of Eastern life.
“So that’s it!” muttered Sir Dugald. “How much do you want, Fath-ud-Din?”
With a pained smile, directed towards the scribe, who was obviously watching the transaction while pretending to be absorbed in the study of the tiled floor, the Vizier held up his right hand, with the second finger turned down.
“Oh, nonsense!” said Sir Dugald. “You can’t afford to do it for that, you know. Or is there any other little thing we could do for you besides? Out with it; we are all friends here.”
“The life of man is uncertain,” sighed Fath-ud-Din.
“Quite so—especially in Ethiopia,” responded Sir Dugald.
“Even kings cannot rule for ever,” went on the Vizier.
“I quite agree with you;” yet Sir Dugald became portentously stern all at once.
“And happy is he to whom a son is given that may sit on his throne after him.”
“True. His Majesty is in that fortunate position.”
“But the son granted to him is young and tender, and there are those who might dispute his claim. How great, then, would be his felicity if the mighty Queen whom my lord serves would acknowledge, by the hand of her servant, the child’s right of succession, and grant him her countenance and the support of her soldiers!”
“I see. Fath-ud-Din stands to gain five thousand pounds, gentlemen,” said Sir Dugald, turning to his staff; “and when the king is removed from the scene, we are to acknowledge Antar Khan as his successor, and back him up with moral and physical force. How does that strike you?”
“It strikes me that the King had better set about making his will,” said Stratford, grimly, “if you accept the terms.”
“That is exactly the impression which the proposal has produced on me,” returned Sir Dugald; “and, as I have no wish to be accessory to a sudden change of ruler in Ethiopia, I think it will be as well to inform Fath-ud-Din that we must decline to do business with him on this footing.”
He folded up the treaty, rising at the same time to show that the interview was ended, and handed back the parchment to the Grand Vizier, who had been observing him in silence.
“Her Majesty’s Government has an objection to interfering in dynastic questions,” said Sir Dugald, pointedly; “and, when it does interest itself in such a matter, it prefers to adopt the cause of the elder son.”
“There are other governments of Europe,” said Fath-ud-Din, with equal meaning, “which are quite willing to take the side of the younger. If the first purchaser will not pay me the price I ask for my sheep, I will take them further and find one who will.”
“I can only admire your Excellency’s keen business qualities,” returned Sir Dugald, as he escorted his visitor to the door. But no sooner was the Vizier’s train outside the gate than the scribe came back in haste, saying that his master had missed a valuable ring, which he must have dropped somewhere in the house. Half suspecting a trap, but yet determined to give no ground for an accusation of lukewarmness, Sir Dugald had the courtyard searched, and the rugs in the Durbar-hall taken up and shaken. But all was in vain until one of the servants, who had removed the tray of coffee which had been brought in out of compliment to the Vizier, came back into the room, and, with a salaam, produced the ring, which he had found at the bottom of Sir Dugald’s cup, and which the scribe seized upon immediately with a cry of triumph.
“Well, I’m glad that turned out all right,” said Dick, when the man had gone off rejoicing. “I was afraid it was a trap, and that they meant to accuse us of stealing the thing. Dim memories began to come over me of a book I read when I was a small boy, in which a virtuous family were imprisoned and tortured and given a bad time generally on account of a false accusation of having stolen a ring, and I must own that I had unpleasant forebodings as to the probable course of justice in Ethiopia.”
“I confess that I began to suspect they had hidden it somewhere,” said Sir Dugald, “and would try to make out that we had accepted it as a bribe.”
“Of course it must have dropped in when he handed you the treaty,” said Stratford; “but it’s queer that no one noticed it.”
“One of the ‘things no feller can understand,’” quoted Sir Dugald, absently. “If you will find your way to the terrace, gentlemen, where I see Lady Haigh is just pouring out tea, I will follow you as soon as I have given an order to Ismail Bakhsh.”
Stratford, Dick, and Kustendjian crossed the court slowly, still discussing the incident of the ring, and, mounting the steps, perceived that Fitz had reached the terrace before them, and was engaged in conducting the education of the Persian kitten. He had an idea that it was possible, by dint of kindness and perseverance, to teach any animal to perform an unlimited number of tricks; but so far his theory did not appear to be justified by facts in the case of Colleen Bawn. At this moment he was holding a stick a few inches from the ground, and endeavouring, by means of bribes and encouragement, to induce his pupil to jump over it. Lady Haigh and Georgia were laughing at his efforts, and the kitten sat watching him with unconcerned interest, blinking lazily every now and then with one contemptuous blue eye and one uncomprehending yellow one.
“Now, you little beggar, this won’t do! I shall have to take you in hand seriously. I won’t hurt the little beast, Miss Keeling. You don’t imagine I would? But I must teach it to obey orders.”
He seized the white mass of fluff which ignored his blandishments so calmly, and proceeded to place it in the required position. The result was a short scuffle, from which the kitten retired in high dudgeon to seek refuge under Georgia’s chair, leaving Fitz defeated, with a long scratch on the back of his hand.
“Oh, Mr Anstruther, you have hurt her!” cried Georgia, reproachfully.
“I think she has hurt me,” was Fitz’s resentful answer.
“Poor little thing! I think she is only frightened,” said Lady Haigh. “We will give her some milk”—and she filled a saucer, and, stooping down, tried to tempt Colleen Bawn out of her hiding-place.
It was at this moment that the rest, standing at the edge of the terrace, saw Sir Dugald coming through the archway from Bachelors’ Buildings.
“What in the world is the matter with the Chief?” whispered Stratford, quickly; for Sir Dugald was walking as though his feet refused to carry him in a straight line: first a few steps to the right, then a valiant attempt to reach the steps, then a divergence to the left. The men on the terrace watched him in amazement and horror.
“He walks as though he was drunk!” said Kustendjian, in a voice of bewilderment.
“I wish to goodness he might be!” was the astonishing aspiration which broke from Dick as he ran down into the court, while Stratford turned a look upon the interpreter which made him shake in his shoes.
“Give me your arm up the steps, North,” said Sir Dugald, looking at Dick in a puzzled, almost appealing fashion. “I don’t feel very well. Is Anstruther there?”
“Yes, sir. Do you want him to write anything?”
“Yes. It must be done at once.”
They had reached the top of the steps, and the horrified group on the terrace saw that Sir Dugald’s face was working strangely, and that his lips were twitching and refused to be controlled.
“Dugald,” cried his wife, rushing to him, “you are ill! Come indoors and lie down;” but he pushed her away from him with a shaking hand.
“Not yet, not yet,” he said, impatiently. “Sit down, Anstruther, and write. Quick!” as the boy’s frightened fingers bungled over their task. “Say this: ‘Fearing the approach of severe illness, I hereby appoint Egerton Stratford to the command of this Mission until her Majesty’s pleasure is known, charging him——’” here he became incapable of speech for a moment, and passed his hand over his lips to steady them—“‘to secure, if possible, the conclusion of the treaty originally agreed upon; but in any case to conduct the Mission back to British territory without provoking, for any cause whatever, a conflict with the Ethiopian authorities.’ Now let me sign it.”
He sat down heavily in the chair which Fitz vacated, and groaned aloud as the pen dropped from his fingers.
“Let me guide your hand, dearest,” whispered Lady Haigh, restoring him the pen; but once more he motioned her aside, and, steadying his right hand with his left, succeeded, with infinite difficulty, in inscribing his name in large crooked characters.
He succeeded, with infinite difficulty, in inscribing his name in large crooked characters.
He succeeded, with infinite difficulty, in inscribing his name in large crooked characters.
“Now witness it. Witness it all of you,” he said, with feverish anxiety, and they all added their names to the paper as witnesses. When the last signature was written Sir Dugald’s head sank on his breast, and Lady Haigh darted to his side with a cry which none of those who heard it will ever forget.
“Dugald, notdead? and without a word to me!”
“Dear Lady Haigh,” said Georgia, gaining her voice first, and choking back her tears, “he is not dead. I think it is some kind of paralytic seizure. He may recover very soon. If we can get him indoors I shall be able to see better what it is.”
“If you will take his left arm, Mr Stratford,” said Lady Haigh, in a hard, even voice, “we can support him to his room. Please come with us, Georgie.”
Dick stepped forward to offer his help, but Lady Haigh refused to relinquish her position, and she and Stratford half-carried the unconscious form across the terrace and into the house. It struck those who were left behind with a fresh pang as they realised that in the course of the past few weeks Sir Dugald’s iron-grey hair had turned quite white.
“What do you think?” asked Dick, when Stratford returned presently and sat down in silence.
“Heaven help us!” was the sole answer; and the group on the terrace waited there in speechless anxiety for more than an hour. The sun, as it neared its setting, began to cast the long shadows of the walls across the courtyard; the kitten curled itself into a ball of white fur in the middle of Georgia’s embroidery without rebuke, and still the four men waited, struck dumb by this sudden blow. At last Georgia came out and sat down in Lady Haigh’s place. There were traces of tears on her face, but she spoke in what Dick called her professional manner as they all looked at her, hesitating to ask the question whose answer they feared to hear.
“It is paralysis,” she said; “but I have never seen a case with quite the same symptoms.”
“All this worry has been too much for the Chief,” said Stratford, indignantly. “The Government had no business to send so old a man on such an errand so ill-supported. What with all he has gone through, and the shock of the doctor’s death, it is no wonder that he should break down.”
“I don’t know who started the idea of this precious Mission,” growled Dick, “but if any of us get back to Khemistan, we shall have something to say about the way they carried it out.”
“I think that perhaps poor Sir Dugald preferred to come with a small party, and to be left very much to his own responsibility,” suggested Georgia. “He has often said how much he hated being trammelled by directions from people at a distance who knew nothing of the circumstances.”
“Still, they should have arranged some safe means by which he might communicate with them in case of necessity, instead of camel-posts which stopped running just when they were most wanted,” persisted Dick. “The responsibility has been too much for any one man.”
“I have an idea,” said Georgia, with some hesitation, “that the case is not quite so simple as you think. I have attended a large number of paralytic cases, but I have never met with symptoms quite like these. Sir Dugald has now passed into a state more resembling coma—that is to say, he is apparently asleep, but cannot be awakened. He seems incapable of originating any movement, and yet I am almost convinced that he is partially conscious of what is going on around him. He cannot speak or open his eyes; but his limbs are not rigid, and I believe he is alive to sensations of physical pain.”
“But to what conclusions do these observations lead you, Miss Keeling?” asked Stratford.
“It is merely a conjecture of mine, but I think I have one or two other facts to support it. I believe that this attack is the result of the administration of poison.”
“Poison!” broke from her hearers in various tones of incredulity; and Stratford added, “With all deference to you, Miss Keeling, I can’t help thinking that you are generalising too hastily from the circumstances of poor Headlam’s death. What opportunity has there been for poisoning the Chief that would not have affected all of us equally?”
“Chanda Lal said something to Lady Haigh about a ring.”
“Fath-ud-Din’s ring!” The men looked at one another for a moment, then Stratford spoke again.
“But we are not in the days of the Borgias now. How could these people have become acquainted with such a trick as that?”
“Surely,” said Georgia, “it is more likely that the Borgias owed their methods to the East than that the East borrowed from them? We have learnt already, by sad experience, that Fath-ud-Din is a most expert poisoner, and we can guess that he would consider it to be to his interest to rid himself of Sir Dugald.”
“The thing is absolutely impossible,” said Dick, not considering the rudeness of his language. Georgia looked at him in some surprise.
“I may tell you that it was from examination of the symptoms that I first formed my theory, Major North, and that it was only when I was trying to find out whether there had been any opportunity of administering poison that I heard of the ring from Chanda Lal.”
“But are you acquainted with any poison which would produce exactly these effects?” asked Stratford. The rest waited eagerly for the reply, and their faces fell when Georgia answered—
“No, I am not. There are circumstances connected with the illness which I cannot explain by attributing it to the action of any specific poison of which I have ever heard. But you must have noticed in the papers about ten years ago various references to certain Asiatic poisons, the nature of which was quite unknown to Western medical men. It was supposed that a poison of this kind had been administered to a particular ruler whom it was desired to dethrone, and that it acted in such a way as to paralyse his will and his powers of mind. I do not say that this is the same poison—in fact I believe it can’t be, for that was supposed not to affect the physical powers in any way—but I think that this belongs to the same class. You saw how poor Sir Dugald struggled against the effects; only a man of indomitable will could have held out as he did. But he could not continue to resist, and when he had attained his great object, and signed that paper, his will-power collapsed suddenly. It is just possible that if the emergency had continued to exist, he might have held out, and succeeded in throwing off the effects of the poison.”
“And you really think it possible that enough poison to produce such results as these could be contained in that ring?” asked Stratford.
“I do; and I want you to help me to persuade Lady Haigh to allow me to try the effect of different antidotes. She is so thoroughly convinced that the attack is a simple paralytic seizure, brought on by overwork and worry, that she refuses to let me make trial of any strong remedies lest they should retard Sir Dugald’s recovery. But I am very much afraid that unless we can expel the poison from the system, or at any rate neutralise it, he will not recover at all.”
“I wish we had a proper surgeon here!” said Dick, rising and walking restlessly up and down.
“We have,” cried Fitz, bristling up at once in defence of Georgia.
“I meant a medicalman,” said Dick, casting a stony glance at him.
“It seems to me, North,” put in Stratford, “that you forget we ought to be very thankful to have a doctor here at all. You can’t mean to imply that it makes any difference that—that——”
“That I have the misfortune to be a woman, as Major North thinks,” said Georgia, quietly.
“Well, I know that I would never let a lady doctor touch me if I was ill,” said Dick, with painful candour.
“I don’t think there are many that would care to,” snapped Fitz, who was boiling over with rage.
“Anstruther, you forget yourself,” said Stratford. “Miss Keeling, I must ask you to forgive us. We have been so much upset by what has happened that we really can’t look at things coolly. We know that North has always been an obstinate heretic on this subject, but I’m sure I need not tell you that if he was really ill he would be only too grateful if you would do what you could for him. Still, in the present case——”
“Yes?” said Georgia, eagerly, as he paused.
“It is such a fearful risk. If you could say definitely what poison you suspected, or even if we had any independent proof that poison had been administered at all, I would add my voice to yours in trying to persuade Lady Haigh to adopt your views; but as it is, you must confess that they are built up of a succession of hypotheses, and if the hypotheses are false, your treatment might do irremediable harm by weakening the patient to such an extent that he would have no power to rally from what may, after all, be what you called just now a simple paralytic seizure. You are quite convinced of the truth of your theory, I suppose?”
“I would stake my professional reputation upon it,” said Georgia; “but I suppose”—throwing back her head proudly—“that it would be quite useless to try to convince any one here that my reputation is as much to me as a professionalman’sis to him. But it is not that—it is to see poor Sir Dugald lying there insensible, and Lady Haigh so miserable about him, and not to be allowed to try what I believe would set him right. After all”—her tone changed—“I am the doctor here, and I am not answerable to any one in authority. Why should I not try the remedies which commend themselves to me?”
“Scarcely without the consent of the patient’s friends——” began Stratford, puzzled by this new development; but Dick interposed roughly enough.
“No, Miss Keeling. If your hypothesis proved to be incorrect, and the result turned out badly, it might become a manslaughter case. It is quite out of the question that you should be allowed either to run such a risk yourself, or to expose the Chief to it, and I shall back Stratford up in preventing you from attempting anything of the kind you propose.”
“By force, I presume?” asked Georgia, sarcastically. “You seem to be losing sight of the fact that, if my theory is correct, it would be incurring the same guilt not to take the steps I recommend, Major North.”
“Allow me to say, Miss Keeling, that there are very few juries that would not prefer the opinion of four men to that of one lady.”
“I can quite believe it,” returned Georgia, scornfully, “after what I have heard to-day. It would make no difference that the woman was an M.D. of London, and that none of the men knew enough of medicine to describe the symptoms of arsenical poisoning. They must know best. Oh, I might have known that when Lady Haigh refused to listen to me there was no hope of getting four men to look at things in a less biassed way. She turned against me because anxiety for her husband has blinded her judgment for the time, but your opposition springs from mere prejudice. Thank you for the things you have been saying, Major North. One conversation of this kind teaches one more than months of ordinary conventional intercourse. If I were not so angry, I could laugh to think that we are wrangling here while poor Sir Dugald is lying in this helpless state—and that you should all combine to prevent my doing what I can for him, simply because I happen to be a woman!”
“I think you are a little unjust, Miss Keeling,” said Stratford. “My objection is not that you are a woman, but that you confess you cannot be certain of the facts of the case.”
“How could any one be certain under the present circumstances, unless Fath-ud-Din had confessed openly what he had done, and contributed a specimen of the poison for analysis? You know that if Dr Headlam had been alive you would not have thought of questioning what he saw fit to do. I only ask for fair play. Chivalry I don’t expect—perhaps it is as well that I don’t under the circumstances—but I have a right to ask for the justice that would be shown to a man in my position.”
And Georgia gathered up her work and the kitten, and retired very deliberately, with the honours of war, leaving the men disinclined for further conversation. Kustendjian betook himself to his own quarters, where he was in the habit of donning a semi-oriental costume in which to take his ease after work was done; and Stratford, accompanied by Fitz, who had listened with a certain mournful pride to Georgia’s indictment of North, adjourned to the office, there to compile the regular account of the proceedings of the day. When the record was complete, and Fitz had returned to the terrace, Stratford, who had lingered to arrange the papers in the safe, was surprised by the entrance of Dick, who lounged in moodily without saying anything, and propped himself against the wall.
“Why don’t you tell me that I am a dismal fool and a howling cad?” he inquired at last.
“If you know it already, though it’s rather late in the day now, it can’t be much good my repeating the information,” said Stratford, drily.
“Oh, go on! Swear at me, call me names—anything you like! I am positively yearning for a thorough good slanging—might make me feel a little better.”
“Then I should recommend you to apply to Miss Keeling. I don’t fancy you’ll want to repeat the experience.”
“Stratford, tell me what I am to do. I can’t think what possessed me just now. Of course, it stands to reason that we couldn’t allow her to do what she wanted. If she tried her experiments, and the Chief died, she would probably let herself in for an inquiry when we got back to Khemistan. Her name would be bandied about all over the place, and every wretched native penny-a-liner in India would be cooking up articles to reflect on medical women.”
“And, by way of improving matters, you gave her a taste of the sort of thing beforehand. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to you that Miss Keeling would probably care comparatively little for having her name bandied about in the papers if she was convinced that her friends—and I suppose you would call yourself one—believed in her.”
Dick stared. “But that’s all rot, you know!” he said. “If a woman won’t look after herself in those ways, one must do it for her. To think of her becoming the subject of bazaargup!—why, you know, one couldn’t allow it. No, I’m not a bit sorry that I took her in hand and quenched her aspirations; but I am perfectly sick when I think of the way I did it. If she hadn’t taken it for granted that she was in the right all the time, I shouldn’t have got so mad; but it makes a man look such a cub to—to lose his temper when he’s arguing with a lady. As she said, I have done myself more harm with her to-day than months would undo. How can I put it right?”
“I haven’t a notion,” responded Stratford, cheerfully. “Any one would have thought from your manner that you were bidding successfully for a final rupture. Of course, the only possible thing to do is to apologise. As a gentleman, you can’t avoid that, but I doubt whether it will do you much good. If you will excuse my saying it, North, I think you have tried this Revolt-of-Man business once too often.”
“Rub it in!” said Dick, mournfully. “The harder the better.”
“Oh, get out!” cried Stratford. “This office isn’t a confessional. Eat your humble pie as soon as you get the chance, and be jolly thankful if your penitence is accepted. That’s all I have to say. Now clear out. Why, I have more hope of young Anstruther than of you. The way that cub has been licked into shape is wonderful. Three months ago he would have been at your throat for half the things you said to-day. Slope!”
Dick departed, but he found no opportunity of following the counsel of his too candid friend. The men dined alone that night, and neither Lady Haigh nor Georgia appeared on the terrace afterwards. The next morning, as there was no change in Sir Dugald’s condition, Lady Haigh ventured, at Georgia’s earnest request, to leave him to the care of Chanda Lal while she presided as usual at the late breakfast. Dick took the place next to her, which he had occupied of late, and secured for himself the first cup of coffee, as he invariably did.
“Major North,” said Georgia, shortly, “will you kindly pass me my coffee?”
Taken by surprise, Dick did as she asked, and her eyes met his in a defiant glance as she raised the cup to her lips. He read her meaning at once. She would have none of his protection; she preferred, indeed, to run the risk of being poisoned rather than owe immunity from such a fate to him. The realisation of this fact cut him more deeply than anything she had said the day before, and he began to regret the temerity with which he had plunged into the fray, although in talking to Stratford he had scouted the idea of entertaining such a feeling.
About an hour later, when Georgia, after careful reconnoitring to make sure that the coast was clear, had settled herself in a shady corner of the terrace to study in peace a work on poisons which she had found among Dr Headlam’s books, she was surprised by the sudden appearance of the man whom she least desired to see. He had evidently been engaged in inspecting the stores in the cellars under the terrace, for the first intimation she had of his vicinity was the sight of him as he came up the steps.
“I want to ask you to forgive me for what I said yesterday, Miss Keeling,” he said, standing before her.
“Can you forgive yourself?” asked Georgia, quickly.
“Not for the way in which I spoke—nor indeed for the things I said, but I think you would look more leniently on them if you realised that it was anxiety for you that prompted them.”
“Thank you,” said Georgia, raising her eyebrows, “but I am afraid that my poor feminine mind is scarcely capable of appreciating an anxiety which displays itself in such a marked—I might almost say such an unpleasant way. Perhaps you will kindly understand, after this, that I had rather be without it.”
It was undignified, she knew, but she could not resist the temptation to repay him in his own coin. Last night she had been angry and indignant when she realised how much his words had hurt her, and it gave her now a kind of vengeful pleasure to feel that she was hurting him.
“You are very cruel,” he said, “but perhaps I deserve it.”
“Perhaps?” Georgia sat upright, and her eyes flashed. “Major North, you conceived a prejudice against me the first time you saw me in the spring, and you spared no pains to make it evident. Thinking that you might possibly imagine yourself to have a just cause of complaint against me, on account of what happened long ago, although I should have thought it wiser and more dignified for both of us to forget the circumstance, I have done my best, for Mab’s sake, to treat you as I should wish to be able to treat her brother. I had begun to hope that you also had recognised the advantage of continuing our acquaintance on this footing, and I have been in the habit lately of speaking to you more freely than I should have cared to do to a declared enemy. In return, you do your utmost to humiliate me in the presence of Mr Kustendjian and Mr Anstruther. You have taught me a lesson; I confess that I have taken some time in learning it, but I shall not make mistakes in future.”
“Then you won’t even let us be friends?”
“I think it will be better not, Major North. The honour of your friendship is rather a trying one for the recipient; a stranger might even mistake it for enmity. It will relieve you of the unpleasant necessity of showing your friendship if we remain henceforth on the footing of mere acquaintances.”
“Have a little pity for me, Georgie.”
If Dick had meant to make Georgia look at him, he had succeeded now. The glance she gave him withered him into silence.
“You forget yourself, Major North. At least, I have never given you reason to insult me.”
The long hours of another day and night dragged slowly away, and Sir Dugald’s condition remained unchanged. The sight of her husband lying on his bed with half-closed eyes, speechless and incapable of changing his position, moved Lady Haigh to a fervent hope that Georgia’s conjecture as to his partial consciousness of what passed around him might not be true. To know himself absolutely powerless, to perceive that things were going wrong but to be unable to rectify them, she could imagine no keener torment for a man of his stamp. If he continued in this state, she said to herself remorsefully, as she administered the liquids which were the only nourishment he could swallow, she would be inclined to allow Georgia to have her way, in spite of the misgivings of Stratford and North, for nothing could be worse than this living death. Even now, “If you could only tell me you were sure it was poison, Georgie dear,” she said, “I would put him into your hands unreservedly; but as it is, the risk is too fearful. He is all I have, you know.” And although Georgia regretted the decision, it did not affect her as the opposition of the men had done, for she knew that Lady Haigh would have withstood any male doctor with exactly the same pertinacity under the circumstances.
The political duties of the Mission were somewhat in abeyance just now, for Sir Dugald’s illness rendered it impossible to initiate any fresh diplomatic action, and this enforced idleness had a bad effect on the spirits of all. Even Fitz had lost his cheerfulness, and the kitten escaped its daily lesson in gymnastics. Kustendjian, his services as interpreter not being required, spent most of his time in his own quarters, where, as he informed Stratford with appropriate seriousness of demeanour, he occupied himself in making his will several times over, and in writing farewell letters to his friends. In spite, or perhaps in consequence, of the lack of active occupation, however, the post which Sir Dugald had bequeathed to Stratford promised to be no sinecure, and more especially as Dick, since his interview with Georgia, had been in a villainously bad temper, and snapped at every one in a way that made his friend long to kick him.
“They all want a desperate emergency to calm them down,” said the harassed commander to himself. “This monotonous life within four walls, full of suspense, would get on anybody’s nerves, and they will take to quarrelling soon. When that happens, it’s all up with us. I shall have to go and eat humble pie to Miss Keeling if this goes on, and ask her not to treat North quite so much like an officious stranger who has spoken to her without an introduction. As the acting head of affairs, I could put it to her that her method of exercising discipline has a distinctly bad effect on themoraleof the force.”
The emergency which Stratford desired was closer at hand when he longed for it than he expected, and as is usually the case with emergencies, it did not arrive quite in the form which he would have chosen had his wishes been consulted. Its inception was marked by the in no way unusual event of the arrival of Fath-ud-Din, desiring to reopen negotiations, on the morning of the second day after Sir Dugald’s seizure. All the day before, so the Vizier averred, he had been expecting to receive a message summoning him back to the Mission, and announcing that his terms were accepted. Hearing nothing, he might well have gone straight to the Scythian envoy and entered into an arrangement with him, but so great was the esteem which he felt for the English, and especially for the members of the present expedition, and so high was the King’s appreciation of the power and good fortune of the British Empire, that he was loath to bring about a definite rupture of diplomatic relations. He had returned, therefore, to lay his offer once more before Sir Dugald, and to find out whether it was impossible to effect a compromise.
Stratford was by no means anxious to undertake the delicate task of endeavouring to resist the Vizier’s blandishments without turning him into an open enemy, and did his best to postpone the evil day by telling him that Sir Dugald was indisposed, and could not be troubled with business. But Fath-ud-Din displayed so much anxiety to see the Envoy, even though only for a moment, and in bed, that Stratford, in order to avoid the discovery of Sir Dugald’s real condition, no whisper of which had as yet been allowed to creep out into the town, was obliged to say that Sir Dugald must not be disturbed, but that the conduct of affairs had been delegated to himself.
The Vizier showed great interest in this piece of news, and immediately asked for a conference with Stratford, a conference so important that the servants were to be excluded from the room, and the greatest precautions taken to prevent eavesdropping or interruption. Stratford was heartily sick of these conferences, each one of which had hitherto resulted only in the offer of terms more impossible of acceptance than those last brought forward, and he was also convinced that the delay in settling matters with the Scythian envoy was due to no compunction on the part of Fath-ud-Din, but merely to the fact that he could not get the price he wanted. Still, even in view of the further possibility that the arrangement with Scythia had after all been concluded, and that the present visit was simply a blind, the Vizier’s request could not very well be refused, and a move was made into the Durbar-hall from the verandah, the servants being placed to guard the doors.
On the terrace in the inner court Lady Haigh, who had come outside for a breath of fresh air, was discussing the position of affairs with Georgia. They had not yet reached the point at which conversation of this kind ceases to bring some comfort, or at any rate distraction, for despair must be very near at hand when no one cares any longer to inquire “What is to be done?” and when there is no one else to take up the challenge and suggest some means, however impracticable, for obtaining relief. To them, as they sat there, came a messenger from Ismail Bakhsh the gatekeeper, saying that there was a negro at the door belonging to the Palace harem, and asking whether he was to be admitted. Lady Haigh had him brought in at once, when he explained that he bore a message to the doctor lady, entreating her to come to the Palace immediately. The litter and the escort of horsemen were waiting outside, for Ismail Bakhsh would not hear of admitting them into the courtyard without orders from Stratford, and Stratford was not to be disturbed.
“Shall you go, Georgie?” asked Lady Haigh.
“Of course,” returned Georgia, astonished by the question. “I am afraid something must have gone wrong with the Queen’s eyes. I only hope they haven’t undone the bandages too soon.”
“I think that perhaps it might be as well before going to ask the gentlemen what their opinion is.”
“I really do not propose to ask leave from Mr Stratford and Major North before I go to visit my patients,” said Georgia, stiffening visibly.
“But they might have some reason for objecting. Of course, they have said nothing of the kind, and it may be only my fancy, but I don’t quite like your going, Georgie. It doesn’t seem safe, after the things that have happened lately.”
“Why, Lady Haigh, you wouldn’t have me disregard a professional summons on the plea of danger?” said Georgia, taking theburkawhich Rahah had brought her, and arraying herself in it.
“No, of course not; but I don’t feel certain about this one, somehow. In any case, Georgie, promise me that you will not take anything to eat or to drink at the Palace.”
“Nothing but coffee, at any rate,” said Georgia. “When Nur Jahan pours it out for me herself, and takes a sip from the cup to show that it is all right, I can’t hurt her feelings by refusing it.”
“I wish I could ask Mr Stratford what he thinks,” said Lady Haigh, reverting to her former strain. “It could do no harm.”
“But you don’t think that he can see further into a millstone than you can, do you, Lady Haigh? What difference could it make what he thought? He doesn’t know anything more than we do, and I am sure he couldn’t conjure up worse fears than those we have been indulging in lately.”
“He might think it better that you should not go,” said Lady Haigh, without considering the effect of her words.
“Then we may regard it as just as well that he is not here, since what he thought would make no difference to me,” said Georgia, with an ominous tightening of the lips. “Are you ready, Rahah?”
And the two veiled figures passed under the archway and through the outer court, entering the litter at the gate without attracting the attention of any of the diplomatists in the Durbar-hall, about the doors of which Lady Haigh hovered unhappily for two or three minutes, feeling undecided how to act, and only returned to her own domain on being assured over and over again by the servants that the conference was on no account to be interrupted. She went slowly back to Sir Dugald’s sick-room, and sat down by the bedside; but she could not be still. An unwonted restlessness was upon her, impelling her to move about the room and alter the position of every medicine-bottle and every piece of furniture in it. Presently she stepped out again on the terrace, and looked across at Bachelors’ Buildings, feeling half inclined to force her way into the Durbar-hall and interrupt the conference; but she scolded herself for her folly, and returned to her patient. What good could it possibly do to break up the durbar by calling Mr Stratford out in order to communicate to him the momentous intelligence that Miss Keeling had gone to visit her patient at the Palace? It was with this very object in view that she had come to Kubbet-ul-Haj.
“I am getting nervous,” said Lady Haigh to herself, “and I have always been so proud of being absolutely without nerves! I won’t give in to it. What is there to be frightened about? Georgia has gone to the Palace over and over again, and I have never minded it a bit.”
Nevertheless, she wandered desolately from the sick-room to the terrace and back again several times, and heaved a sigh of relief when she caught a glimpse through the archway of a bustle in the outer court, and gathered that the Vizier was taking his leave. Presently Stratford and Dick came in sight, and she had just time to decide that she would not trouble them with her ridiculous fancies, before they mounted the steps.
“Well, had Fath-ud-Din anything new to propose?” she asked.
“Oh no,” returned Stratford, with ineffable weariness. “It was the same old game all through. He wanted to bribe us to sign his treaty, or he didn’t mind our bribing him to sign ours. He has raised his terms, though—I think he imagines that we are of a more squeezable disposition than the Chief. He wants ten thousand pounds for himself, and a written promise that the Government will support Antar Khan in case of the King’s death. A little secret treaty all to himself would just meet his views.”
“He is really very tiresome,” said Lady Haigh, sympathetically. “One feels so dreadfully undignified staying on like this, when he is always making such insulting offers. I don’t want to interfere in your department, Mr Stratford, but if we hear nothing soon—say to-day or to-morrow—from Jahan Beg, would it not be advisable to think about sending a messenger to report our position at Fort Rahmat-Ullah?”
“I think of it continually,” said Stratford; “but none of us here could hope to leave the city without being recognised, and if they mean to cut us off from communication with Khemistan, it would be certain death to the man who ventured to start, while we should be as badly off as ever.”
“Still, we can’t spend the term of our natural lives shut up here,” began Lady Haigh, emphatically; but Dick interrupted her.
“I’ll go,” he said, promptly; “it’s just the sort of thing I like. I have nothing to keep me here, and nothing to do. I am positively yearning for a job. I’ll start to-night.”
“Gently,” said Stratford. “We must figure out a plan of campaign first. But if any one could get through, North, you could, to judge by your Rahmat-Ullah performance; and Fath-ud-Din’s language to-day was really so unpleasantly threatening, that I think it is time for us to make tracks.”
“Did he go so far as to threaten you?” asked Lady Haigh.
“There certainly seemed to be a distinct suggestion of menace in his words, and that not merely the old bugbear of the Scythian envoy. But of course it may be all bounce. Hullo! I wonder I didn’t murder this little animal.” He stooped and lifted the white kitten, which had made a sudden dash at his boot from an ambush near at hand. “Why aren’t you with your mistress, Colleen Bawn? I thought you always stuck to her.”
“Oh, Miss Keeling can’t take her to the Palace,” said Lady Haigh, with a nervous little laugh. “It wouldn’t look professional, you know.”
“Miss Keeling gone to the Palace!” Stratford’s eye sought Dick’s, but met no answering glance. “Why should she have gone there just now? I thought the operation was over.”
“Oh, the Queen sent a message to beg her to come, and she was afraid something must have gone wrong, so she hurried off. You don’t think there is any reason why she should have refused, do you?”