CAUGHT AND CAGED.
When the Grand Vizier and his companions had been conducted to the
door by the servants, and the gates had closed behind them, Sir Dugald
turned from the table at which he had been standing motionless, and
addressed Dick. The work of months had been overthrown, and the
success by which he had hoped to put the crowning touch to his
official career rendered impossible of attainment; but his first
thought was to vindicate the outraged dignity of his country, insulted
in his person.
“When you made your inspection of the stables this morning, Major
North, were the animals all in?”
“Yes, sir; this is my weekly inspection, and the camels which had been
out at pasture were brought in by their drivers to be passed. They all
looked very fit; but we have not much forage for them in store.”
“We must chance that. I should be glad if you would have our
riding-horses, together with a sufficient number of camels to carry
the tents and their furniture, brought round here two hours before
sunset. It would be impossible to travel far to-day, but if we are
outside the city the required moral effect will be produced. I shall
leave you and Anstruther behind to bring on the stores and the heavy
luggage. We will travel by slow stages until you come up with us, and
then we must make forced marches, and get out of the country as fast
as possible, for we shall have no escort this time.”
For the first time in his life Dick hesitated to obey an order.
“But the ladies, sir,” he suggested. “Is it safe?”
“Is it safe for them here? The sooner we have them out of the city,
the safer they will be,” and Dick, silenced, went to do his errand at
the various stables in which the baggage-animals of the Mission were
quartered.
To say that the sudden order to pack up and be ready to start on the
homeward journey that very afternoon was startling to the ladies would
be to mince matters, for it came upon them like a thunder-clap; but
Lady Haigh was an old traveller, whom no vicissitudes could disturb
for long, and Georgia was a soldier’s daughter, and they were both
resolved that the honour of England should not be dragged in the dust
on their account by the delay of a moment after the appointed hour of
starting. Accordingly, they set to work immediately to take down and
wrap up and stow away all the possessions with which they had made the
house homelike during their tenancy of it, and were in the act of
packing their dresses (which, as every lady will know, always occupy
the topmost place in a box), when Dick made his appearance on the
terrace. Georgia, who was standing at the table pulling out the
sleeves of a favourite silk blouse, which she had just rescued from
the ruthless hands of Rahah, looked at him in surprise, for his face
was grave and set.
“Please don’t say that you want us to start this moment,” she said,
cheerfully. “Lady Haigh and I are willing to make any sacrifice in
reason for our country, but we had rather not leave our best dresses
behind.”
“It won’t be necessary,” returned Dick, trying, but with poor success,
to speak in the same tone. “We shall not leave to-day, after all.”
“Not leave to-day!” cried Lady Haigh, coming out on the terrace, and
folding up a skirt at the same time. “Then when do we start?”
“Not just yet, I fear. The fact is, the King is trying on a little
joke with us. He has fetched away all our horses and camels, and we
can’t get them back.”
“But when did he do it? and where are they gone?” asked Lady Haigh, in
hot indignation.
“He must have done it immediately after I had come away from the
stables after picking out the beasts for your start this evening.
Where they are gone I don’t know; but we can’t hire any others, and we
can’t very well walk, and therefore I suppose we must stay here.”
“But it is such a bad precedent to let him get the better of us like
this!” cried Lady Haigh. “It is such absolute stealing, too. Are the
servants gone as well as the animals?”
“Yes, they have all been marched off to fresh quarters somewhere. That
thins our forces sadly.”
“So it does,” Lady Haigh assented, gravely. “But never mind; if the
King won’t let us leave the city, we will make ourselves happy where
we are.”
“And perhaps,” suggested Georgia, “it is merely that the King is sorry
for his treachery about the treaty, and wants to prevent Sir Dugald’s
leaving Kubbet-ul-Haj in anger. He may mean to resume the negotiations
to-morrow.”
“He may,” agreed Dick, but his face was not hopeful as he returned
across the courtyard, while the ladies took the things out of the
boxes they had just packed. Still, the events of the next morning
seemed to confirm Georgia’s cheerful augury, for an embassy came from
the King to Sir Dugald, headed, not by the Grand Vizier (possibly he
felt a slight doubt as to the nature of the reception he was likely to
meet with), but by the official who had superintended the
establishment of the Mission in its present quarters. In the message
which he brought, Sir Dugald was entreated to overlook the incident of
the day before, which had been devised by the King merely as a test of
his shrewdness, and was in no way a serious attempt to induce him to
sign a false treaty. If he would only come to the Palace to-day, the
original treaty should be ready for his signature, and the King would
affix his seal to it in his presence. At first Sir Dugald returned an
absolute refusal to this invitation, but the messenger reappeared with
it twice, adding such solemn and earnest assurances of its genuine
character, that he consented to talk the matter over with his staff.
Lady Haigh and Georgia invited themselves to assist at the discussion,
and the first thing that opened Georgia’s eyes to the gravity of the
situation was the fact that Sir Dugald made no protest against the
irregularity of this proceeding.
“You won’t go, Dugald?” said Lady Haigh, anxiously. “Probably it is
only a trap. Remember Macnaghten.”
“Couldn’t you manage to suggest any more cheerful reminiscence?” asked
Sir Dugald.
“You really mean to go, sir?” asked Dick.
“I think so. After all, what happened yesterday may have been only a
trick, as this man says, though I don’t think the King would have
hesitated to profit by it if I had signed the false treaty. At any
rate, so long as there is a chance of our coming off victorious, we
ought not to let it slip. This treaty is of immense importance, for it
brings Ethiopia within our sphere of influence, and when once it is
concluded, we can snap our fingers at Scythia and Neustria. You see as
well as I do that if we withdraw now and negotiations are resumed
later, Scythia will have had time to slip in and conclude her treaty.
I grant that we have a very slender chance of success, but if it
depends on me I will not lose it. Still, I don’t wish to take you into
danger against your better judgment, gentlemen. Your lives are at
stake as much as mine, and if you think it advisable not to go to the
Palace, I will dispense with your attendance on this occasion.”
“We will go wherever you go, Sir Dugald,” said Dick.
“Wherever you go,” echoed the rest.
“But I can’t take all of you,” said Sir Dugald. “Two of you must stay
here and look after the ladies. I don’t like dividing our force, but
it would be poor strategy to let them be seized as hostages while we
were away. You see what I mean, Elma? I will leave you North and the
doctor as a garrison, and you and the servants must put yourselves
under their orders and help to defend the place if it is attacked.”
“No, Dugald,” returned Lady Haigh, resolutely, regardless of the fact
that she was indulging in open mutiny, “unless Major North goes with
you, you shall not go to the Palace at all. Dr Headlam and we can
defend ourselves quite well behind stone walls; but it would be
madness for you to trust yourself outside without a man with you that
knew anything about fighting. Only take Major North, and I am
content.”
For peace’ sake, Sir Dugald accepted this view of the case, and a
little later the party set out with the ambassador, who had brought
with him several horses from the King’s stables for them to ride--huge
fat animals, most of them a peculiar pinkish-white in colour, with
highly arched necks and flowing manes and tails decorated with ribbons
and sham jewellery. They were provided with high native saddles and
elaborate saddle-cloths, and the ambassador explained that they were
intended as gifts to Sir Dugald and to his staff. Asked what had
become of the animals belonging to the Mission, he confessed
ingenuously that the King had had them removed in order to frustrate
Sir Dugald’s design of leaving the city, but that they would be
returned as soon as ever the treaty was signed, so that the Envoy and
his young men might depart in peace.
Arrived at the Palace, the members of the Mission were conducted to
the usual hall of audience. It was not without some unpleasant
sensations that they heard the gates of the courtyard close behind
them, and Dick involuntarily loosened his sword in the scabbard, and
noticed that Stratford and Fitz were feeling whether their revolvers
were safe. Sir Dugald alone showed no signs of disturbance, even when
on reaching the hall he was requested to enter the King’s
presence-chamber by himself, the rest remaining in the outer room.
Before he could answer, his staff pressed around him, regardless of
etiquette.
“Don’t go, sir,” said Dick. “It’s a trap.”
“They mean mischief, Sir Dugald,” said Stratford. “The King has never
asked to see you alone before.”
“Let us put a pistol to this fellow’s head, sir, and keep him as a
hostage until we are safely back at the Mission,” suggested Fitz,
looking daggers at the smiling official, who was bowing and spreading
out his hands in token of the welcome which awaited Sir Dugald in the
King’s presence.
“Nonsense!” said Sir Dugald, irritably, motioning Stratford aside.
“You mean well, gentlemen; but we can’t make fools of ourselves in
this way. Look there. You see that there’s nothing but a curtain
between the two rooms, and you would hear the slightest scuffle or cry
for help. I give you free leave to interfere if you do hear anything
of the kind, but pray keep cool.”
He went on, following the official, and passed under the heavy curtain
which covered the doorway of the inner room. Some minutes of painful
suspense ensued, while the three Englishmen and Kustendjian strained
their ears to hear what was going on within. Suddenly there came a
sound as of the ringing of metal on a marble floor, and Dick sprang to
the doorway with a bound, followed by the rest, and tore aside the
curtain. He never quite knew what he had expected to see, but it was
certainly not the sight which met his eyes. The King was sitting on
his raised divan, with Fath-ud-Din standing beside him. Before them
there lay on a gorgeous Persian carpet a great pile of bags of money,
one of which had been kicked across the room. It had burst open, and
the clash of the escaping silver was the sound which the listeners had
heard. They had no time to meditate further on the situation, for Sir
Dugald, his face white with anger, was coming towards them, actually
turning his back on the King, and as he reached the doorway he looked
round over his shoulder and spoke.
“Your Majesty understands that under no circumstances will I consent
to enter the Palace again. Any communication you may wish to make to
me can pass through my secretary.”
“But which is he?” inquired Fath-ud-Din smoothly in Arabic, the
language in which Sir Dugald had spoken. “Is he the mighty man of
whose deeds the hillmen sing, and with whose name the women of
Khemistan terrify their children?”
Sir Dugald silently indicated Stratford, and the Vizier looked at him
and grunted softly to himself. But the King sat up suddenly (he had
been leaning forward with his chin on his hand, listening to what
passed), and said--
“Ye cannot leave this place without camels, and camels ye shall not
have until the treaty is signed.”
“No; but we can wait here until a British force comes to escort us
away,” said Sir Dugald, and marched down the hall. His staff followed
him, not without an uneasy feeling that they might be attacked from
behind. Indeed, Kustendjian confessed afterwards that he had never
felt quite so much frightened in his life as when Fitz gave him a poke
in the ribs.
“What was it that they really did, sir?” asked Dick, when they were
riding back to the Mission.
“They tried bribery and corruption, North--offered me the heap of
money you saw on the floor if I would sign that precious treaty of
theirs and make no bones about it. I have had experiences of the kind
before, in out-of-the-way places, where the people knew little of
British rule, but this is quite the biggest thing of its sort that has
ever been tried with me. I don’t fancy they will attempt it again.”
“Was it the treaty you tore up yesterday?”
“Exactly the same. I knew it this time without Kustendjian’s help.
Well, this is the last occasion on which we shall be tricked into
going to the Palace on such an errand.”
But it was evident the next morning that the Ethiopian authorities had
not given up hope, for a second deputation appeared, headed by an
official even higher in rank than the preceding one, and entreated Sir
Dugald to return to the Palace once again. This time the King had
tried his loyalty, which had stood the test; and now, finding that he
could neither be deceived nor corrupted, he would send with him an
autograph letter to her Majesty, advising her to promote the Envoy
above all her servants, since neither threats nor bribes nor any
devices could move him. Sir Dugald smiled grimly when he heard the
message, which was brought him by Stratford, who had interviewed the
embassy.
“Praise from such a quarter is praise indeed,” he remarked; “but you
may tell them, Mr Stratford, that this fish will not bite.”
Again the deputation sent in earnest entreaties for merely a sight of
Sir Dugald’s face, declaring that they dared not return to the King
without having seen him, and on being dismissed they came back twice
over, each time becoming more urgent in their request. Let Sir Dugald
only come to the Palace once more, and sign the treaty in the King’s
presence, and all would be well. But Sir Dugald was not to be moved.
The utmost concession that he would make in answer to the prayers of
the messengers was to consent to sign the original treaty if it were
brought to him at the Mission already bearing the seals of the King
and Fath-ud-Din, or else to allow Stratford to take to the Palace the
copy made by Kustendjian and obtain the required signatures to it,
after which Sir Dugald would affix his. Further than this he would not
go, and the deputation retired disappointed once more.
No deputation appeared the next day, but the members of the Mission
were not allowed to imagine themselves forgotten. Before the hour at
which the gate was usually opened in the morning, a strong guard of
soldiers took post before it, and signified that they would permit no
one either to enter or leave the premises. Under these circumstances
Sir Dugald, while intrusting to the officer in command of the troops a
formal protest to be delivered to the King, considered it advisable to
keep the gate shut, although the soldiers showed no disposition to
attempt to force an entrance. The object of their presence, which
appeared at first as a somewhat purposeless insult, was soon
discovered, for when the country-people came as usual with their
baskets of eggs and vegetables for sale, intending to set up their
market in the street, as they had done since the day of the riot, they
were turned back and not allowed to approach the gate. In the same way
the cooks, who made an attempt to get out as far as the town market to
do their catering, were refused leave to pass, and returned
disconsolately into the courtyard. It was evident that an endeavour
was to be made to starve the Mission into surrender, and Sir Dugald
ordered an examination of the stores to be instituted. The result was
not reassuring. It had never been intended that the expedition should
carry all its supplies with it, and therefore, although there was
still a considerable quantity of tinned provisions and other articles
of luxury, there was a great deficiency of corn and flour, and of
course an absolute lack of fresh meat and vegetables. It was obviously
necessary to put the whole party upon fixed rations at once, but this
measure would be of little avail if the blockade outside were strictly
kept up.
With night, however, a gleam of comfort arrived in the shape of Jahan
Beg, who was discovered by Fitz lurking in the lane behind the house,
and was drawn up to the window by a rope. He had heard of the King’s
last measure of offence, and was anxious to know how it affected his
friends. Sir Dugald’s refusal to go to the Palace he approved
heartily, saying that any yielding now would be accepted as a sign of
fear and weakness, leaving out of sight the extreme probability that
the opportunity would be seized of making an attempt on his life. At
the same time, the Amir confessed that he saw no way out of the
situation which would combine honour and safety. Fath-ud-Din was
paramount in the council, and while he was in power no one else could
get a hearing. Rustam Khan was in fear of his life, and had everything
ready for flight at a moment’s notice should his spies inform him that
it was expedient. The Scythian envoy was once more to the front,
although no definite arrangement had as yet been concluded with him.
It seemed to be Fath-ud-Din’s policy to play off one nation against
the other, doing his best to secure concessions from each, while
giving as little as possible in the way of equivalent to either.
“If you can get any treaty that in the slightest degree approaches
your demands, sign it and go,” said Jahan Beg. “And if you can’t get
your treaty, go in any case, if you can.”
“I was thinking of sending a man off to Fort Rahmat-Ullah to describe
our plight, and ask for orders and help,” said Sir Dugald; “but the
difficulty is that they will allow no one to pass. One does not care
to court a rebuff by demanding facilities for the passage of a courier
taking important despatches to Khemistan and finding them refused; and
even if we could smuggle him out behind in any way, there would be a
very slender chance of his passing the city gates, much less of
reaching the frontier.”
“I will do what I can to help a messenger off if you are obliged to
run the blockade,” said Jahan Beg; “but as you say, there is a very
slight chance of success. Why not send a message by that fellow Hicks,
who has been talking for weeks of returning to Khemistan immediately?”
“Because he only meant to return when our business was over, and now
that things have become more exciting he is bound to be in at the
death,” said Sir Dugald. “He must wait here and write our obituary
notices, you see.”
“Well, I advise you to wait a day or two, in case anything occurs to
alter the situation. The Scythian agent may turn rusty if it dawns
upon him that he is being played with, and then your chance will
come.”
“The worst of it is that our chances are limited by our supplies,”
said Sir Dugald. “We have not got the beasts and the camel-men to
consider now, certainly, but it is no joke providing simply for
ourselves and the servants here. Both Fath-ud-Din and the Scythian
envoy have the whip-hand of us in that respect.”
“Yes,” put in Georgia, for the conversation was taking place on the
terrace, “it would not do us much good personally even to get the
treaty signed, when we were reduced to a ration of three tinned peas
and a square inch of chocolate each a day.”
“Don’t be afraid, Miss Keeling,” said Stratford. “I think I can assure
you that we men will each add one pea and an appreciable fraction of
the chocolate to your ration and Lady Haigh’s.”
“And we shall hand it back to you, remarking gracefully that you need
it more than we do,” said Georgia.
“By the bye,” said Jahan Beg, “I think I can help you about provisions
a little. I can get a small supply of corn through the lanes at the
back without attracting the notice of the soldiers, and you can draw
up the sacks through the window. I will bring you a donkey-load
to-morrow night, and another the next night, if all is well.”
In spite of the watch kept on the house, Jahan Beg was as good as his
word, and succeeded in supplying the beleaguered garrison, in the
course of the next three nights, with enough corn to relieve them from
any present fear of starvation. In other respects, however, the
situation showed no improvement. Once more a deputation from the
Palace arrived to propose terms of peace, and departed as before
without seeing Sir Dugald. But this time the official who headed it
declared as he departed that no more messages of conciliation would be
sent by the King. After this, if the British Mission desired to
abandon its attitude of suspicion, and meet the Ethiopian Government
on a footing of mutual confidence, it must make the first move. The
soldiers at the gateway had been ordered to allow Sir Dugald to pass
at any hour of the day or night, either with or without his staff, and
to escort him to the Palace with due honour. But no advantage was
taken of this intimation, and inside the Mission councils were held
daily as to the measures to be adopted in case the state of affairs
should remain unchanged. Sir Dugald had decided to send a messenger to
Fort Rahmat-Ullah asking for instructions, and Jahan Beg had chosen
one of his servants, a man who was devoted to him and who knew the
country well, for the dangerous errand. As soon as arrangements had
been made for a supply of horses along the route to be traversed, this
man was to come to the Mission to receive Sir Dugald’s despatches,
which were to be sewn up in his clothes, and the imprisoned residents
began to regard the state of affairs with somewhat greater equanimity,
since the burden of decision in the dilemma in which they found
themselves would be laid upon other shoulders than their own.
On the fourth day of the blockade, however, an unexpected change
occurred. Again an embassy appeared, but this time it was a private
one. It consisted of the two sons of Fath-ud-Din, who had brought Mr
Hicks to introduce them and to guarantee their good faith, and a
number of attendants, who bore gifts of fruit and vegetables. The
object of their errand was soon imparted. Fath-ud-Din had been seized
with a mysterious illness, the nature of which was unknown to the
Ethiopian physicians and baffled all their remedies, and he had sent
to entreat Dr Headlam, to whose skill all his patients in the city
bore eloquent testimony, to come and prescribe for him. Sir Dugald and
his staff looked at one another doubtfully when they heard the
message.
“It looks remarkably like a trap,” said Sir Dugald.
“Still, Hicks would scarcely lend himself to such a thing,” said the
doctor.
“Let us have him in,” said Sir Dugald; and Mr Hicks was invited into
the Durbar-hall, leaving his young friends in the verandah.
“If you ask me, I think the old man is real sick,” he said, in reply
to their questions. “I heard his groans when I called at his house
just now, and they were awful. I guess the old sinner is nailed this
time, any way.”
“But it is so exactly what one might look for in a plot to secure one
of us as a hostage for the signing of the treaty,” said Dick.
“Well, two can play at that game,” said the doctor, who was eager to
go. “I suppose I must have young Fath-ud-Din with me to do the honours
of the house, but do you keep the boy here, and don’t let him go until
you have me safely back. That ought to checkmate any intended move of
theirs.”
“Doctor, there’s something like grit in you!” cried Mr Hicks, warmly.
“What with your professional enthusiasm, and your level-headedness,
you deserve to be immortalised. And your name shall be handed down in
the pages of history, or I will cut my connection with the ‘Crier’
from that day.”
“Thanks,” said the doctor. “Now suppose you call in the young
gentlemen and explain the state of affairs. I don’t want to get to the
house and find the poor old villain beyond my skill.”
The Vizier’s eldest son understood the matter at once, and was
perfectly willing that his young brother should remain at the Mission
as a hostage for Dr Headlam’s safe return. The boy was therefore
delivered over to Sir Dugald and taken into the inner court, and the
doctor left the house with Mr Hicks and young Fath-ud-Din.
“Make the most of your opportunities, doctor,” Stratford called after
him as he departed. “Have the medicine ready, and refuse to give it
him except as the price of the signing of our treaty.”
Dr Headlam went off laughing, and the evening passed quietly at the
Mission. About eleven o’clock the doctor returned, escorted by young
Fath-ud-Din, who received his brother back, and departed with profuse
expressions of gratitude.
“What sort of time have you had with the boy?” asked the doctor of
Stratford and Dick, who were accompanying him across the court on his
way to his own quarters.
“Oh, not bad, under the circumstances,” returned Dick. “We set
Anstruther down to teach him halma by signs, and Miss Keeling gave us
a little music--that is to say, she did her best to sing to the
strains of Kustendjian’s concertina. I never heard any one play so
vilely as that fellow in all my life, but the boy seemed impressed.
Afterwards we sat in a ring and tried to talk, with Kustendjian to
interpret, and all got most fearfully sleepy. But how did you get on?”
“Well, I don’t quite know,” replied the doctor, somewhat reluctantly.
“I have an uncomfortable kind of feeling, and yet I can’t be sure that
it is justified. But I will tell you about the events of the evening,
and then you can judge for yourselves whether the matter is of any
importance.”
“Oh, go on!” said Dick and Stratford together. “Don’t keep us on the
rack.”
“Well, as soon as I got to the house I was taken to see old
Fath-ud-Din. It’s pretty clear to me that he has a tolerably severe
attack of influenza, but he thought he was dying--or at any rate, he
groaned as if he did. I prescribed the usual remedies, and gave
various directions as to things which I thought might relieve him. He
sent the servants out of the room to get hot flannels and the other
things I had ordered, and then turned to me. I was pouring out the
medicine, which I had fortunately been able to make up from the drugs
I had brought with me, and I went to give it to him. As I held the
glass to his lips, he fixed me with his eye and said in Arabic, ‘A
doctor has many opportunities.’ It was such a truism that I merely
agreed, and he went on, ‘He holds in his hand the life of the man to
whose help he is called.’ I thought he was afraid that I might be
trying to poison him, and I said, ‘If your Excellency doubts me, I
will sip the medicine myself first.’ At that he grinned in what he
seemed to consider as a friendly and ingratiating manner, and said,
‘You mistake me. I trust you. So also does the Queen of England’s
Envoy trust you, and our lord the King trusts his physician.’ I didn’t
quite see the relevance of the remark, so I cut matters short by
requesting him to take his medicine. He sat up and balanced the glass
in his hand, and said, looking at me over the edge of it: ‘Doubtless
you are acquainted with poisons which could be administered in a
little draught like this, and do their work without causing
suspicion?’ I didn’t at all like the turn the conversation was taking,
but I told him shortly that I did know of such poisons, and he said at
once, ‘There are great fortunes to be made by men who possess such
knowledge as that, and who are willing to use it.’ I was partly
flustered and partly angry, for I could not make out whether he was
still harping on the idea of my poisoning him, or hinting at bribing
me to murder Sir Dugald or perhaps the King, and I said very
emphatically, ‘I don’t understand your Excellency, and I must ask you
to remember that I have no wish whatever to do so.’ That was something
of a cram, I’m afraid, but I was too much flurried to pick my phrases,
and I gave him the medicine without another word. Then the servants
came back, and I saw them make him comfortable, and then Hicks and I
had dinner, or supper, or whatever you might call it, with young
Fath-ud-Din. Now, what do you think of it?”
“It looks fishy,” said Stratford. “If you ask me, I think we must look
after the Chief.”
“Just so,” said Dr Headlam, “but without frightening the ladies. I
will tell him the whole story to-morrow morning. They couldn’t attempt
anything particular to-night, and it’s very late. Besides, I feel a
bit seedy myself.”
“I hope they haven’t poisoned _you_,” said Dick, pausing and looking
at him.
“Nonsense, my dear fellow. Why, Hicks and young Fath-ud-Din and I were
all eating out of the same dish. If you had seen some of the messes of
which politeness forced Hicks and me to partake, you would wonder that
we are alive now. There was one concoction full of chillies, which has
made me most consumedly thirsty.”
“Come back and have something to drink,” said Dick. “The servants are
gone to roost, but I think we are capable of compounding you a peg
between us.”
“No, thanks; I am looking forward to a glass of my own effervescent
mixture. My servants always have orders to leave the filter full for
me. Well, we must be thinking of turning in, I suppose.”
“Stay over here to-night,” said Stratford, moved by a sudden impulse.
“We can manage to put you up in Bachelors’ Buildings, and it will be
more convenient if you are really seedy. Besides, it is undoubtedly
bad policy for one of us to sleep out in an isolated house at a time
like this.”
“My dear Stratford, I have a rifle and a revolver and a whole armoury
of surgical knives with which to defend my hearth and home. Any
midnight marauder who came to pay me a visit would find that he had
undertaken a tough job. Moreover, my servants are good fellows, and
they are armed after a fashion. And then I have the famous collection,
with the reputation Anstruther has conferred upon it, to protect me.
Good-night: I am really too thirsty to wait talking any longer.”
They unbarred the gate and let him out, watched him cross the street
and knock at his own door, and saw him admitted. Then, after going the
round of the sentries, they retired to their own quarters, where they
spent some time in conversation. Before turning in, they went out to
the gate once more, impelled by a common anxiety for which they made
no attempt to account to one another, and looked across at the
doctor’s house; but the door was shut, and all was quiet there.