AN OFFER OF CO-OPERATION.
“The King of all Kings, the Upholder of the Universe, places this
hovel at the disposal of his high eminence the Queen of England’s
Envoy, and entreats that he will deign to use it as his own,” said the
sleek official who had been deputed to meet the travellers and bring
them into the town, as he paused opposite the doorway of a large house
and indicated with extended hand that the end of the journey had been
reached.
“In other words, this imposing building is to be our residence for the
present,” said Sir Dugald, riding into the courtyard and turning
round. “Allow me to welcome you to Kubbet-ul-Haj, ladies.”
“It is not as good as Baghdad,” said Lady Haigh, looking round
disparagingly on the whitewashed walls; “but I daresay we shall be
very comfortable. After all, it won’t be for long.”
“Express my thanks to the King,” said Sir Dugald pointedly to the
messenger, “and tell him that the pleasantness of our quarters will
make us anxious to prolong our stay in his city.”
The official, well-pleased, stayed only to point out the entrance to
the second courtyard of which the house boasted, and to intimate that
if the accommodation provided should prove to be too limited, another
house could easily be secured, and then took his departure; while the
new arrivals passed under an archway into the inner court, to find
facing them the chief rooms of the establishment. These were evidently
intended as Sir Dugald’s quarters, and Lady Haigh surveyed them with
high approval.
“Come!” she said. “We shall not be so badly off after all. I was
beginning to be afraid we should be as much crowded as you were at
Agra in the Mutiny, Dugald. I think the rooms on that side will do
nicely for you, Georgie.”
“I don’t know whether you will all be able to find quarters in the
first block of buildings, gentlemen,” said Sir Dugald to his staff
when he had helped his wife and Georgia to dismount, and they had gone
indoors to explore. “I must have Mr Kustendjian there, for he may be
wanted at any moment, and I doubt whether that will leave you rooms
enough.”
“If any one has to seek quarters outside, I hope I may be the favoured
man,” said Dr Headlam. “Judging by the sights I saw as we came through
the streets, and the cries for medicine which were addressed to me,
there is an enormous amount of disease here, and I shall have my hands
pretty full if I begin to try any outside practice. I think I am
justified in believing that you would approve of such a course, Sir
Dugald? It could only make the Mission more popular.”
“By all means, if you wish it; but don’t wear yourself out with
doctoring all Kubbet-ul-Haj, and forget that you came here as surgeon
to the Mission. You think you will do better if you are lodged
outside?”
“Well, I didn’t quite like the idea of bringing all the filth and
rascality of Kubbet-ul-Haj into the Mission headquarters, but that
would remove the objection. I think it would be both safer and more
agreeable for all of us if you would allow me to camp in some other
house.”
“Then perhaps you could take that collection of yours over to your new
quarters as well as your other belongings? It is not altogether the
most delightful of objects.”
“Either as to sight or smell,” put in Dick North. “Those beasts you
have preserved in spirits are enough to give a man the horrors,
doctor.”
“Oh, our much-maligned masterpieces shall share my quarters, by all
means,” said the doctor. “If Miss Keeling breaks her heart over
parting with the collection, don’t blame me.”
“Miss Keeling will probably bear the loss with equanimity,” said Sir
Dugald. “Natural history collections are not exactly ladies’ toys. At
any rate, if she is uneasy about the state of her pet specimens you
can bring her bulletins respecting them at meal-times. We shall see
you as usual at tiffin and at dinner, I suppose, doctor? And you know
that Lady Haigh is always glad to welcome you at tea.”
“I shall certainly not decline such an invitation in favour of
solitary meals hastily partaken of amongst the specimens,” said Dr
Headlam.
“Then we may consider that settled,” said Sir Dugald. “I think we may
regard ourselves as fairly fortunate in our quarters here. What is
your opinion, Stratford?”
“I think the place is very well adapted for our business, certainly,”
returned Stratford. “The general public will only be admitted to the
outer court, I suppose?”
“Yes; the large room on the ground-floor of your quarters will serve
as our durbar-hall,” said Sir Dugald, “and the attendants of the
Ethiopian officials can remain on the verandah. This inner court must
be sacred to the ladies, so that they may go about unveiled. No
Ethiopian can be allowed to cross the threshold without an invitation,
and only those must be invited who know something of English usages
and will not be shocked by what they see. The raised verandah before
the house will no doubt serve as a drawing-room. What do you think of
the place, North?”
“Good position for defence,” said Dick, meditatively. “You hold the
outer court as long as you can, and then fall back upon the first
block of buildings. When that becomes untenable, you blow it up and
retire upon the second block.”
“Until you have to blow that up too, and yourself with it, I suppose?”
said Sir Dugald. “For the ladies’ sake, I must say I hope we shall not
have to put the defensive capabilities of the house to such a severe
test. Well, gentlemen, we shall meet at dinner. No doubt you will like
to get your things settled a little. Your own servants will be able to
find quarters in your block, but the rest must occupy the buildings
round the outer court.”
When Sir Dugald had thus declared his will the party separated, the
staff proceeding to their quarters in Bachelors’ Buildings, as the
first block was unanimously named, and allotting the rooms among
themselves on the principle of seniority; while the doctor went
house-hunting with the aid of a minor official who had been left in
the outer court to give any help or information that might be needed.
Under his auspices a much smaller house, only separated from the
headquarters of the Mission by a narrow street, was secured, and
hither Dr Headlam removed with his servants and the famous collection.
When the members of the Mission met at dinner they had shaken down
fairly well in their several abodes, and after a little inevitable
grumbling over accustomed luxuries which were here unattainable, they
displayed a disposition to regard the situation with contentment and
the rest of mankind with charity. Sir Dugald noted down certain points
on which it would be necessary to appeal for assistance to the urbane
gentleman who had instituted the party into their habitation, while
Lady Haigh promised help in matters which could be set right by
feminine intuition and a needle and thread, and peace reigned at
headquarters.
It was not until dinner was over and the members of the Mission were
partaking of coffee on the terrace, with the lights of the dining-room
behind mingling incongruously with the moonlight around them and
outshining the twinkling lamps visible here and there in the loftier
habitations outside the walls of the house, that an interruption
occurred, and the quiet was broken by the entrance of Chanda Lal, Sir
Dugald’s bearer, with a visiting-card, which he handed to his master
on a tray.
“What’s this, bearer?” asked Sir Dugald, impatiently.
“Highness, the sahib bade me bring it to you.”
“The sahib? Here? In Kubbet-ul-Haj? Who is he? What is he doing here?”
Sir Dugald’s brow was darkening ominously.
“Highness, I know not. I said that the _burra sahib_ received no
visitors this evening, and the sahib said, ‘Take this to your _burra
sahib_, and tell him that my name is Heekis, and that I wish to see
him.’”
“‘Elkanah B. Hicks. “Empire City Crier,”’” read Sir Dugald from the
card in his hand in a tone of stupefaction. “In the name of all that
is abominable!” he cried, with lively disgust, “it’s a newspaper
correspondent, and an American at that, and here before us!”
“I know the name,” said Stratford. “Hicks was the ‘Crier’
correspondent who made himself so prominent over the Thracian
business. He was arrested and conducted to the frontier while the
second revolution was going on.”
“The very worst kind of busybody!” said Sir Dugald, wrathfully. “I
only wish that Drakovics had shot him when he had him safe. What does
he mean by poking himself in here?”
“He is in search of marketable ‘copy,’ without a doubt,” said
Stratford, “and he is taking the most direct way to get it. He has a
fancy for talking and behaving like a sort of semi-civilised Artemus
Ward, which takes in a good many people; but he is considered about
the smartest man on the ‘Crier’ staff, and that is saying a good
deal.”
“Whatever his fancies may be,” growled Sir Dugald, “I don’t see that
they are any excuse for the man’s thrusting himself upon me out of
business hours without the ghost of an introduction.”
“Still, dear,” said Lady Haigh, “we had better have him in and be
friendly to him. In a place like this white people are bound to hang
together, and I dare say we shall find him very pleasant.”
“Bring the sahib in,” said Sir Dugald, shortly, to Chanda Lal,
adopting his wife’s pacific suggestion, but without any lightening of
countenance; and presently the bearer ushered in a lank, sallow man,
rather over middle age, with a straggling lightish beard, and hair
that seemed to stand somewhat in need of the scissors. As Fitz said
afterwards, if he had only worn striped trousers and a starred
waistcoat, Mr Hicks would have represented to the life the Brother
Jonathan of American, not English, caricaturists. Sir Dugald received
his visitor with frigid politeness, and the staff, taking their cue
from him, did the same; but Mr Hicks appeared to feel no
embarrassment, although the tender hearts of Lady Haigh and Georgia
were moved to pity on his account. He was duly supplied with coffee;
and when Georgia had passed him a plate of cakes he stretched his long
limbs comfortably as he reclined in a cane chair and beamed upon the
party.
“It makes one feel real high-toned,” he said, slowly, “to be waited
upon out here at the back of creation by two lovely and cultured
daughters of Albion.”
Sir Dugald gave him a stony glance in reply; while the younger men,
uncertain whether the remark was to be considered as due to deliberate
rudeness or to ignorance, wavered between amusement and indignation.
Lady Haigh answered pleasantly but coldly--
“We are not accustomed to be treated to quite such elaborate
compliments, Mr Hicks; but no doubt American manners differ from ours.
So I have always understood, at least.”
“You bet they do, ma’am!” was Mr Hicks’ reply, delivered with almost
startling emphasis. “When your nigger let me in just now, and the
General there stepped forward and said, ‘Mr Hicks, I presume?’ hanged
if I didn’t think I had got into a Belgravian drawing-room, or into
Central Africa with Stanley, instead of finding a party of civilised
white people in the midst of Ethiopia! I guess I’m not cut out for
shows of this kind, any way.”
“You prefer a European post, perhaps?” suggested Stratford, as Sir
Dugald remained silent.
“You may consider that proved, sir, some! I can fly around with any
man in a civilised country, and back myself to send home more ‘copy’
than the paper can use; but I was a fool to cable back ‘Done!’ when
the Editor wired, ‘Can you start for Ethiopia next week, and keep an
eye on this Mission business?’ Set me down in a telegraph bureau, with
a dozen newspaper men there before me and only one wire, and I’ll bet
you my bottom dollar that my despatch will go over that wire before
any of the other fellows’; but when it comes to organising a
dromedary-service to carry my ‘copy’ week by week, it makes me tired
of life.”
“If you find it so hard to send your letters, how did you surmount the
difficulties of getting up here yourself?” asked Sir Dugald, with a
faint appearance of interest.
“I must confess to getting along by taking your name in vain,
General,” returned Mr Hicks, easily. “I travelled around for a week or
two in Khemistan, just to throw your frontier people off the scent and
to make friends with some of the natives. They smuggled me across into
Ethiopia in disguise, and I told the people here that I was sent out
to write about the Mission and note how it was received, which was
quite true. Consequently I was taken everywhere for an emissary of
your Government, which has smoothed the way for me considerably. I
guess it will gratify you to know that your name was a passport most
everywhere.”
“Having heard you were a newspaper correspondent,” said Sir Dugald, “I
might have guessed what your methods would be.”
“We military people,” said Lady Haigh, again interposing as
peacemaker, “have an odd prejudice against special correspondents, Mr
Hicks. It is awkward, but you must be kind enough to excuse it.”
“It’s nothing to what I should feel if I was in the General’s place,
ma’am,” said Mr Hicks, affably. “I wouldn’t have one in my camp for
any money. They might pillory me throughout the Press of the Union,
but so long as I kept them off I should smile. Now, General, after
that handsome acknowledgment, I hope we are friends?”
[image: images/img_03.jpg
caption:
“It’s nothing to what I should feel if I was in the General’s place,
ma’am,” said Mr Hicks, affably.]
“I hope so,” returned Sir Dugald, still unsoftened.
“I should like to do a deal with you, General,” continued Mr Hicks.
“If you could spare me a minute or two alone, I think I could convince
you that we have interests in common.”
“Work is over at this time of night,” said Sir Dugald, icily. “If I
can be of service to you in any little difficulty with the authorities
here, or with regard to the postal arrangements, I shall be happy to
see you in the morning. My office hours begin at six.”
“Do you wish to name any special time, General?”
“By no means, Mr Hicks.” Sir Dugald fixed a blank uncomprehending gaze
on the American’s face. “It is my duty to support the interests of the
subjects of friendly powers wherever I can, and I hope you will attend
to state your case at the time most convenient to yourself.”
“I guess you don’t understand me, General. I can fix my own affairs,
thank you. What I want is to arrange a trade. You give me what I want,
and I give you what you want, do you see? I should prefer to speak to
you in private as to the exact terms.”
“Any proposal you have to make to me must be uttered in the presence
of these gentlemen, if you please.”
Mr Hicks laughed uneasily.
“Well, your way of doing business licks Wall Street,” he said. “What I
have to say is, you give me the information I may need as to the plans
and intentions of your Government, and I will give you some pieces of
news without which you will do nothing here.”
“You are an accredited agent of the United States Government?” asked
Sir Dugald.
“Not at all, sir. I represent the ‘Empire City Crier.’”
“And I represent her Britannic Majesty. I regret that the ‘deal’ to
which you have referred cannot come off.”
“Then your Mission will be a failure, General.”
“Pardon me, but that is no concern of yours.”
“Well, you are the first man I ever knew bring a wife and daughter
into a place like this on such an almighty poor chance. I don’t know
what you think, gentlemen”--Mr Hicks wheeled round in his chair and
glanced at the rest of the party--“but I say--and I know something
about this place--that you have a precious small hope of getting out
of Kubbet-ul-Haj with your lives if your Mission does fail.”
“You really must excuse my staff from commenting on your interesting
piece of information, Mr Hicks,” said Sir Dugald, smoothly; “but they
are not accustomed to be set up as a court of appeal over me.”
“May I ask, General, whether you know why Fath-ud-Din, the Grand
Vizier, did not ride out to welcome you to-day?”
“I believe he was ill,” said Sir Dugald, stifling a yawn.
“He was so sick that he was riding past my house to the bath at the
moment you were entering the city on the other side.”
“I don’t quite see,” said Dick, “why a piece of bad manners on
Fath-ud-Din’s part should be such a fearful omen for us.”
“I guess you think yourself dreadful smart, Colonel,” returned Mr
Hicks; “but you soldier officers are a bit too cute sometimes. Old
Fath-ud-Din is a bad crowd generally, and he means mischief. Leaving
him out of account, what do you think has happened to your friend the
Crown Prince, Rustam Khan? Has he dropped in on you here yet?”
“Scarcely,” said Dick. “We have not arrived so very long, you know.”
“That is so.” Mr Hicks disregarded the sarcasm implied in the words.
“But I know something of that young man, and I can tell you he would
have been around here like greased lightning if he had had the chance.
He was afraid of losing his scalp if he attempted it. The fact is, you
gentlemen are behind the times.”
“Ah, but we’ll be truly grateful if you’ll enlighten us a little,” put
in Fitz, in a most alluring brogue, which he kept for use on special
occasions.
Mr Hicks glanced sharply at Sir Dugald. The slightest sign of interest
or eagerness would have determined him to impart no information except
at a price, but the look of repressed weariness which was just visible
in the half-light served to pique the American into doing his best to
surprise and startle his bored and scornful host. He leant back in his
chair with his thumbs stuck in his waistcoat pockets.
“We think we are pretty slick in fixing things out West,” he said,
“but they have by no means a bad notion of history-making out here.
When it was arranged that your Mission should start, General, Rustam
Khan was in high favour with his father, old Fath-ud-Din was biting
his nails in disgrace, and the people were all in love with the
English. But we have had a Palace revolution since then. The King’s
second wife (she is Fath-ud-Din’s sister, and they all hang together)
gave her husband one of her slave-girls, the prettiest she could pick
up anywhere, and that brought her into high favour, and all her
relations with her. She is young Antar Khan’s mother, and he is prime
favourite now, while Rustam Khan and his mother, the King’s first
wife, are nowhere. Curious what little things bring about these big
changes, isn’t it?”
“The details of these Palace scandals are scarcely edifying,” remarked
Sir Dugald, to whom Mr Hicks had all along been addressing himself.
“Probably not, General; but they are often important, and there is an
outside circumstance that complicates this one. From your point of
view it was slightly unfortunate that an envoy should turn up a week
or two ago with presents and offers of alliance from Scythia and
Neustria. I guess those two States are hunting in couples. It’s not
the first time they’ve done it, and they generally make a good thing
out of it. Does this alter your way of looking at things at all,
General?”
“Not at all,” returned Sir Dugald, placidly.
“Now come, General,” said Mr Hicks, leaning forward and extending a
long forefinger to tap Sir Dugald on the knee, “you and I are both
white men. We understand each other. I can put you up to circumventing
this Scythian cuss if you will only show an accommodating spirit.”
“Really,” said Sir Dugald, “I am deeply obliged; but until her Majesty
is pleased to appoint me a colleague I have an invincible objection to
sharing my duties with any one. I cannot sufficiently admire your
disinterested and public-spirited offer of co-operation, Mr Hicks, but
this prejudice of mine--foolish and incomprehensible as it must no
doubt appear to you--prevents my accepting it.”
“Think of your reputation, General,” urged Mr Hicks, sadly. “I give
you my word I had sooner write the story of a successful mission than
an unsuccessful one any day. We newspaper men have a way of finding
out things which you diplomatic gentlemen never hear of, and I can
help you through with your work and cover you with glory as well.
You’ll take it?”
“No, thank you,” returned Sir Dugald. “It is all prejudice, of course,
but somehow I had rather not.”
“There are just a few people left in the world who prefer honour to
glory,” cried Georgia her eyes flashing.
“What an unkind remark, Miss Keeling!” said Sir Dugald. “You will
really wound my feelings if you impute motives to me in that reckless
way. Well, Mr Hicks, I hope we shall see more of you. Lady Haigh is
always at home on Friday afternoons, and if you care to drop in to
tiffin any day we shall be delighted to see you.”
Mr Hicks had not been intending to depart so early, but at this
intimation he rose reluctantly and took his leave. North and Stratford
escorted him to the door, and when they had returned to the terrace a
sense of constraint seemed to fall upon those present. Sir Dugald’s
impassive face told nothing, and his eyes were fixed on a distant
point of light in the city. He was the only one of the party who
recognised the full importance of the piece of news which had just
been announced, but all perceived more or less distinctly that the
enterprise on which they were bound had received a check. It was
Georgia who broke the silence at last.
“Sir Dugald,” she said, boldly, “won’t you say something? We couldn’t
help being here and hearing what that man said, and we should like to
know what you really think, just to hear what we have to expect.”
“I have never pretended to be a prophet,” said Sir Dugald, looking
round with a half-smile, “and I fear I am not much in the habit of
stating publicly what I really think. Still, after what has happened
to-night, I will say that our task is certainly very much complicated
by what our American friend has told us, though I see no reason for
wailing over it as impossible. Palace revolutions are tolerably
frequent in these countries, and Rustam Khan may be in favour again
to-morrow. Of course the news about the Scythian agent is bad, but we
do not hear that any treaty has been concluded, and we are now on the
spot. If the people are reasonably well affected towards us, or are
even keeping an open mind, the advantages we can offer ought to
convince them that it is to their interest to make friends of us. They
appeared friendly enough this morning.”
“Hicks told us at the door,” said Dick, “that the King and his Amirs
were very much divided in opinion, some of them advocating the
alliance with us, some that with Scythia, and others that the old
position of isolation should be maintained. The worst of them, he
says, is an old fellow called the Amir Jahan Beg, who is Rustam Khan’s
father-in-law. ‘He is the deadest-headed old reactionary I ever saw,’
Hicks said. ‘All the other fellows turn round in the street to look
after me and show a little interest, but this old cuss rides right on
and takes no notice. The other day I sent my servant to negotiate an
interview, and all the answer I got was that the door was shut.’”
“Rather good, that, for Jahan Beg,” remarked Stratford.
“But if he is Rustam Khan’s father-in-law he may persuade him to take
sides against us,” said Dr Headlam.
“We can do nothing until we see how the land lies,” said Sir Dugald.
“To-morrow, when the King receives us for the first time, we shall get
some idea of his attitude towards us, and we can take steps
accordingly. There is only one thing that I must specially impress
upon you, gentlemen: be careful when you are in company with Hicks.
Even after his failure to-night I haven’t a doubt that we shall see a
good deal of him. I invited him to come here now and then because I
thought we should be acquainted with his movements occasionally, at
any rate, and he accepted the invitation as likely to give him a means
of finding out what we are doing. Of course he will bribe the servants
here and at the Palace to bring him news; but he will certainly not
neglect us. Therefore be careful what you say. I don’t want to
misjudge the man, but he might not be above the temptation of taking
steps to secure the fulfilment of his prophecy as to the failure of
the Mission. In any case he might do a great deal of harm by sending
home exaggerated or distorted reports of what had actually occurred.
General conversation is the safest--no private talks. I would not
answer even for you, Stratford, in the hands of a ‘Crier’ interviewer,
although you are a past-master in the art of mystification. Even if
you said nothing, that is not necessarily a barrier to his crediting
you with a long oration. There is safety in numbers, for he could not
derive much political capital from a conversation held in the presence
of the whole Mission. Our policy is to show a united front.”
“If only that wretched man had never come to Kubbet-ul-Haj to spoil
everything!” said Lady Haigh, somewhat ungratefully, it must be
confessed, in view of the information imparted by Mr Hicks.
“Oh, don’t abuse him,” said Sir Dugald. “It is his business.”