A PROFESSIONAL SUMMONS.
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 the _morale_ of 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 the _burka_ which
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?”
“I don’t know. It seems absurd, but I feel more at ease when we are
all safe inside these walls. I can’t think how it is that we didn’t
hear Miss Keeling start.”
“Oh, the escort did not come into the court, because Ismail Bakhsh
would not open the gate, and we could not tell you she was going, for
the servants said you were not to be interrupted.”
“That was Fath-ud-Din’s doing. It looks very fishy altogether. I hope
it’s not a trap. I suppose there’s no possibility of stopping her now
before she gets to the Palace?”
“Dear me, no!” said Lady Haigh, with conviction. “She ought to be on
her way back by this time. No; it’s quite clear that we can do
nothing.”
“Except await events,” said Stratford, drearily; and Lady Haigh
remembered that she had left Sir Dugald alone for a long time, and
returned to his side not much comforted.
In the meantime, Georgia had reached the Palace without mishap, and,
on sending a message by one of the slaves, was welcomed at the door of
the harem by Nur Jahan. To her dismay, she found the girl in deep
mourning. She wore no jewels, her hair was unbraided, her dress was
coarse and squalid, and her feet bare.
“What is the matter, Nur Jahan?” asked Georgia, anxiously. “Has
anything gone wrong with the Queen or Rustam Khan, or is it your
baby?”
“It is my father,” said Nur Jahan, in a hurried whisper, so low that
Rahah was obliged to come quite close in order to translate what she
said. “O doctor lady, hast thou not heard? He was seized eleven days
ago, and thrown into prison, by order of our lord the King.”
“But he is not dead?”
“God knows,” said Nur Jahan. “It may even be that, but we have not
heard it. We know not where he is, nor what has befallen him since he
was taken away.”
Georgia gasped. This news was the death-blow to the hopes which the
party at the Mission had been cherishing. It was evident that Jahan
Beg had been arrested almost immediately after his last colloquy with
Sir Dugald, and before he could take any steps with reference to
sending a messenger to Fort Rahmat-Ullah, so that help was as far off
as ever. Had the King and Fath-ud-Din discovered his visits to the
Mission, or was it merely that the Vizier’s hatred had at last burst
its bounds? She turned to ask Nur Jahan on what charge he had been
arrested, but smiled at her own folly when she remembered that in this
happy land there was neither Habeas Corpus Act nor penalty for false
imprisonment.
“It is good of thee to come to us, O doctor lady,” said Nur Jahan.
“The Queen has been wearying to hear thy voice. She said that thou
hadst heard of our trouble and forsaken us; but I said that it was not
so, for that where there was sorrow there wouldst thou be to comfort
it.”
“Then the Queen is no more cheerful than she was?”
“How should she be, now that this new trial is come upon us? Her
slaves and I have kept from her all that we could; but she guesses
what we do not tell her. Only she has not wept, for she knows that
would injure her eyes, and her heart longs to behold my son before she
dies.”
“But have you pleaded with the King for your father’s life?”
“My mother has. She is his own cousin, and yet she went to him as a
suppliant, and entreated mercy for her husband; but he refused to hear
her, and the rabble of the city broke into her house and set it on
fire. Then she took refuge here with her household, and we have waited
in vain for news ever since.”
“But does your mother live here in the King’s house, and eat his
bread, when he has treated her husband so badly?”
“What else could she do? Our lord the King is her uncle’s son. Where
could she take refuge but in his house with his wife? He will suffer
no harm to happen to her, for it is only against my father that he is
wroth. But I will take thee to see my mother, O doctor lady, when thou
hast first visited the Queen, for her heart is sad and it may cheer
her to hear thy voice.”
They went on into the Queen’s room, and Georgia examined the bandages
and found them intact. It was as yet too early to remove them in order
to discover whether the operation had been successful, and she
remarked to Nur Jahan that it would have been as well not to send for
her until two or three days later, when she could have superintended
their removal.
“But we have not sent for thee, O doctor lady,” said Nur Jahan in
surprise.
“Not sent for me?” cried Georgia. “But I had a message from the
Queen!”
Nur Jahan shook her head, and the Queen spoke in a weak, quivering
voice--
“It is of my lord’s kindness, then, that we behold thee, O doctor
lady. When he last visited me, I was mourning that we saw thee so
seldom, and now he has brought thee hither.”
“I should certainly not have come for a day or two if I had known that
there was no change,” said Georgia; “nor should I have obeyed a
message from the King, even though sent in your name.” But the poor
Queen’s evident pleasure in her society moved her to pity, and she
talked cheerfully to her for a while before taking her leave.
There were a few directions as to various points of treatment to be
given to Nur Jahan, and when these had been duly explained and a fresh
bottle of medicine promised, Georgia rose to go. Nur Jahan led her
down the passage and into another room, which was filled with women in
mourning. They were all sitting on the floor round an elderly lady,
whose grey hair was besprinkled with dust, and they relieved one
another at intervals in uttering a few words of lamentation and then
breaking into a low, prolonged wail. Georgia had no difficulty in
guessing that this was the bereaved household of Jahan Beg, and she
felt some delicacy in interrupting the mournful proceedings; but Nur
Jahan led her in and presented her to her mother, and the wailing
women made room for her in their circle. At first she was afraid that
it might be considered only proper politeness to take down her hair
and cast dust upon it as they were doing; but she was not long in
discovering that the duty of mourning had become a little monotonous
after ten days’ diligent performance of it, and that the ladies were
not indisposed to welcome the slight relief and distraction which
might be afforded by the foreigner’s visit.
Nur Jahan’s mother raised her head, shook the dust out of her eyes,
and after surveying Georgia from head to foot with great interest,
began the invariable catechism. Was the doctor lady married? How had
she learned her wisdom? Where did she get her clothes? Why did she do
her hair in that way? Had she a father, mother, brothers, sisters?
What had brought her to Kubbet-ul-Haj? Had her family raised no
objections to such an extraordinary proceeding? Was the Kaisar really
a woman? Was it then true that in England the women ruled and the men
obeyed? Why did the doctor lady wear no jewellery? Which member of the
Mission was it that dealt in magical arts--herself, or the Envoy, or
the doctor who was dead?
The Princess stopped at last for want of breath, and Georgia, having
answered as many of the questions as she could remember, expressed the
sorrow she had felt on account of the misfortune that had fallen upon
Jahan Beg, adding a hope that he would soon be restored to liberty.
From all sides came the answer that whatever happened to him would be
his fate, which could not be averted; but when she asked presently to
what cause his sudden arrest was to be attributed, a storm of passion
swept over the crowd of women. It was all the doing of
Fath-ud-Din--might he die unlamented in the flower of his age! might
his children live but to disgrace him! and might the graves of his
parents and grandparents be dishonoured, yea, those of his ancestors
to the remotest generation! After this outburst they came to definite
charges, the Princess speaking first, and one woman after another
chiming in with corroborative evidence.
Fath-ud-Din robbed the treasury and deceived the King, ground the
faces of the honest poor, and kept the lawless rabble in his pay. He
meant to place his nephew, Antar Khan, on the throne after his father,
instead of the rightful heir, Rustam Khan, to whom God had granted
such a promising son as showed he was intended to be king. He had a
daughter who was supposed to be the most beautiful child in Ethiopia,
and he was bringing her up in the country in a fortress of his own,
where no one could see her, intending (such was the height of his
presumption) to marry her to Antar Khan when she was old enough. And
for her guardian there he had an old woman--a sorceress, who could
destroy by her magic arts any undesirable stranger that might happen
to approach the fortress, for she was one of the remnant of the
Poisoners, a tribe of vagrants so noted for their evil deeds that the
last King of Ethiopia had swept them almost out of the land. But this
woman still remained, and that she worked at her old trade for
Fath-ud-Din’s benefit there was no doubt, for did not all his enemies
die mysteriously, and no man could tell who had hurt them? To this old
woman had descended the evil secrets of the whole tribe, and she knew
of poisons and antidotes with which no one else in the world was
acquainted.
The women were so eager in their denunciations of the Grand Vizier
that Georgia’s voice was unheeded when she tried to interrupt them,
for the story of the witch and her poisons had recalled to her mind
the recent events at the Mission, and she was anxious to know where
the old woman was to be found. But the untiring accusers were hurrying
on with a catalogue of other crimes committed by Fath-ud-Din, and they
were only checked by a voice from the doorway.
“Dost thou not fear, O wife of Jahan Beg, thus with thy women to speak
evil of those in authority? The arm of the Vizier has power to reach
even to the house of the King.”
“The cat may seize the mouse, O mother of Antar Khan,” replied the
Princess with dignity, “but the mouse may squeak.”
The intruder laughed contemptuously and waddled into the room between
the rows of women, who had risen at her entrance. She was still a
young woman, and might have been considered beautiful but for her
exceeding stoutness (a quality, however, which is not considered a
defect in Ethiopia), and she was dressed with the utmost magnificence
which Kubbet-ul-Haj could show. Rich satins of varying colours,
Kashmir shawls, and transparent gauzes were heaped upon her person in
a way which declared them to be intended for display rather than for
use; her eyelids were blackened, and her hands and lips reddened, and
she was literally loaded with jewels. Several women followed her, in
one of whom Georgia recognised the girl who had shouted across the
courtyard to her on the last occasion of her visiting the Palace, and
these also had donned all their finest possessions in preparation for
paying this call. It was the direst insult to come dressed in such a
style for a visit which was nominally one of condolence; but Nur
Jahan’s mother dissembled her wrath, and invited the young Queen to
take a seat on the divan, while her attendants grouped themselves
around her. When the visitor was comfortably settled, and had been
accommodated with a pipe, she favoured Georgia with a prolonged stare.
“Thou art the English doctor-woman?” she asked, so insolently that her
maids giggled at the tone.
“I am,” returned Georgia, looking her over calmly.
“Why hast thou never visited me, to eat bread in my chamber?”
“I have never received an invitation,” said Georgia.
Antar Khan’s mother turned to her attendants.
“Hear the doctor lady!” she cried. “She is waiting for an invitation,
instead of sending humbly to ask that she might be allowed to kiss the
Queen’s feet!”
Not considering that so self-evident a fact called for comment,
Georgia remained silent, which her assailant was unable to do.
“Think not that I came here to see thee,” she said.
“Oh, not at all,” said Georgia, pleasantly; and there was a suspicious
tremble in Rahah’s voice as she translated the answer.
“Because, if I desire it, I shall be able to see thee continually from
henceforth,” pursued the Queen. “But,” she added, with deep meaning,
“I shall not desire it. I would not have thee in my sight.”
Georgia lifted her eyebrows slightly at this enigmatic and apparently
uncalled-for remark, an action which seemed to irritate her opponent
very much. She leaned forward when she spoke next, and her tone was
full of menace.
“Thou art here--in the Palace.”
“I believe so,” returned Georgia, in some surprise.
“But how wilt thou depart hence--and when?”
“In a few minutes, and as I came, I suppose.”
The Queen laughed shrilly, and her women joined their voices with
hers.
“Thou wilt never leave the Palace, O doctor lady. Before thou canst
return to thy people there is a life to be given for thine, and who is
there that will lay down his life for thee? Thou hast neither husband
nor father nor brother, and what man is there that will give his life
for a woman that is not even of his house?”
Georgia’s heart was in her mouth as the full import of the words
dawned upon her; but she turned quietly to Nur Jahan’s mother.
“I never care to prescribe for patients in public,” she said. “Would
it be possible for me to see the Queen in a separate room, with,
perhaps, one of her attendants?”
A thrill of expectation went round the circle as Rahah translated the
words with much emphasis. Georgia singled out an old woman standing
behind the Queen.
“Tell me, O my mother,” she said, “whether thou hast long observed
these symptoms in thy mistress? Is she often like this? Speak freely,
for I cannot hope to cure her unless I know the truth.”
“Is the doctor-woman saying that I am mad?” burst forth the Queen,
glaring round at her attendants, whose faces assumed immediately an
expression of pious horror, although they were unable to answer in the
negative. “I will show thee whether I am mad, thou infidel daughter of
a dog!” she cried. “My lord shall give thee into my hands, and thou
shalt know what I have wit to do.”
“I think not,” said Georgia with a smile, as her fingers closed on the
butt of the little revolver she carried in a special pocket. Her
feelings were so highly wrought that it was easier for her at the
moment to smile than to speak, but the smile seemed to rouse her
adversary to fury. She burst into a storm of threats and revilings
such as Rahah declined to translate; but Georgia gathered the
impression that any one who was so unfortunate as to fall into the
hands of Antar Khan’s mother would have little mercy to hope for, and
might well welcome death as the chief blessing on earth. She rose and
folded her _burka_ around her, and addressed the Princess.
“I fear my presence merely excites the patient,” she said, “and
therefore I will go now. Perhaps I shall be able to see her another
day when she is quieter, and there are not so many people present.”
“Yes, go!” echoed the Queen and her women. “Go, if thou canst!”
Accompanied by Nur Jahan, and followed by Rahah, Georgia walked down
the passage to the door. As had been the case on the previous
occasion, the litter was not there. Turning to Nur Jahan, Georgia
asked her to send one of the slave-girls to summon it.
“O doctor lady,” whispered Nur Jahan, fearfully, “it is no use. There
is evil intended against thee. Come back and remain in the chamber of
my lord’s mother. It may be that they would not dare to drag thee from
her presence.”
“Are you also turning against me, Nur Jahan? Send the woman at once,
if you please. I shall not stay here.”
Tremblingly Nur Jahan obeyed, while the young Queen and her women, who
had followed them out, laughed and jeered.
“Never again wilt thou enter the litter, O doctor lady. It is well to
give orders, but it is ill when they are not obeyed.”
Nevertheless, after a delay of a few minutes, the litter appeared, to
Georgia’s own astonishment, and the utter stupefaction of the
Ethiopian women. Georgia’s spirits rose as she stepped into it,
followed by Rahah, and she allowed herself to think that the Queen’s
mysterious threats and extraordinary conduct had been part of a
spiteful joke.