AN ULTIMATUM.
As the morning hours passed on, the feeling of uneasiness at the
Mission grew in intensity. Although Georgia’s visits to the Palace
were rarely less than two hours in duration, and another hour must be
allowed for the journey thither and the return, she had not been gone
an hour and a half before Lady Haigh began to appear from the sick
room at intervals of ten minutes, and inquire whether she had not come
back yet. The men waited on the terrace, too full of anxiety to settle
to any occupation, and the servants watched them furtively as they
went about their duties. Whether the uneasiness was due to the
Vizier’s threat, or to a feeling that the tension which had so long
existed had nearly reached breaking-point, every one seemed to be
conscious that there was danger in the air.
At length the shouts of running footmen at the outer gates announced
an arrival of importance, and a sigh of relief broke from the watchers
on the terrace. Miss Keeling had returned in safety after all, but
this was the last time that she should leave the Mission
unaccompanied, and confide herself to the tender mercies of the
sovereign of Ethiopia and his Ministers. But the shouts were not
followed by the usual sounds of the creaking open of the ponderous
gates and the rush of feet into the courtyard as the litter was
carried up to the steps; but only by a parleying between Ismail Bakhsh
and some one outside, which was audible in the inner court owing to
the loud tones in which it was conducted, although the actual words
could not be distinguished. Presently a servant approached the group
through the archway.
“Highness,” he said, addressing Stratford, “there are two lords
outside, belonging to the King’s court, who desire to speak with the
Sahibs, but they will not come inside the gate.”
“Whence this exceeding caution?” said Stratford, as he descended the
steps. “They have never displayed any reluctance to come in before.”
No one replied to his observation, and he went towards the gate, the
other men following him, with Lady Haigh, uninvited and unnoticed,
close at their heels. One of the doors was opened as they advanced,
and they found themselves face to face with their old friend, the
official who had met them on their first arrival in the city, and
introduced them to their present quarters. Now he looked uneasy and as
though ashamed of the business on which he had come, while at his side
was a hard-faced, eager man, whom the English recognised as one of
Fath-ud-Din’s chief supporters among the Amirs.
“Peace be upon you!” said Stratford.
“And upon thee be peace!” was the stereotyped reply.
“Will you not enter and eat bread with us?” asked Stratford.
“My lord’s servants are commanded not to enter his house, nor yet to
break bread with him and his young men,” returned the official, “for
their errand demands haste. Is the gracious lord, the Queen of
England’s Envoy, yet recovered of his sickness?”
“No, he is still indisposed, and I am here in his place,” said
Stratford, restraining his impatience with an effort.
“Will my lord command his own servants to withdraw a space?” pursued
the ambassador, evidently embarrassed, “for I have to mention one who
belongs to the great lord’s household.”
Stratford signed to the servants to withdraw a little, but intimated
that Dick and Fitz were equally interested with himself in the matter
now to be disclosed, while Kustendjian was necessary as interpreter.
This having been made clear, they waited with breathless eagerness,
for the ambassador seemed very much at a loss for words.
“My lord knows,” he said at last, “that the English doctor lady came
this day to visit the household of our lord the King?”
“I know that she received an urgent message in the Queen’s name
entreating her to come to the Palace, and that she hastened thither at
once,” said Stratford. The official seemed to find a difficulty in
proceeding, and his colleague took up the tale.
“However that may be,” he said, “the doctor lady is now in the hands
of our lord the King.”
“And how is that, pray?” asked Stratford. “Since when has the King of
Ethiopia adopted the plan of getting women into his power by false
messages, and then kidnapping them?”
“In dealing with enemies and infidels, our lord the King pays more
heed to the end than to the means,” said the Amir.
“So it seems,” said Stratford, drily; “but does he fight with women?”
“Nay,” said the official, plucking up courage to speak again; “he
fights with men, and therefore it is that we are here.”
“The King is evidently in need of money, and requires a ransom,” said
Stratford, turning to the rest, and speaking with an airy confidence
which he was far from feeling. “How much does he want?” he asked of
the messengers.
“Our lord desires not money, nor does he war with women,” repeated the
Amir. “In exchange for the woman he requires a man.”
A gasp from Fitz, an exclamation from Dick, and a stifled cry from
Lady Haigh warned Stratford of the effect which the announcement of
the King’s demand had produced on his friends. He himself felt a
certain relief--almost akin to the “stern joy” of the warrior--in the
conviction that the crisis for which he had been looking had at last
arrived, and his voice rang out clearly as he asked, “And who is it
that the King requires?”
“My lord must see,” said the old official reluctantly, “that our lord
the King desires him who is chief in authority among you to be sent to
him, that he may make the treaty with him which the Queen of England
desired when she sent her servants hither.”
“But we have no stronger wish than that the King should sign that very
treaty,” objected Stratford.
“But my lord’s treaty is not the King’s treaty,” was the unanswerable
reply of the ambassador.
“And if the man you desire should go to the Palace, and yet refuse to
sign the King’s treaty, what then?” asked Stratford.
“It is not for the health of any man to withstand our lord the King,”
was the evasive answer.
“But if--if the man was not given up,” broke in the agitated voice of
Fitz from behind, “what would happen to the lady?”
“Oh, the woman would die--in a little while,” was the instant reply of
the Amir, delighted to perceive his opportunity. “Not by the hands of
the King’s executioners--that would be a man’s death. No; women can
deal with women. There are certain in our lord the King’s household
who bear no love to the doctor lady. I do not say that they would kill
her; but she would not live very long in their hands--a day, perhaps,
or it may be two. And it would not be an easy death.”
“For God’s sake, Stratford, put a stop to this!” muttered Dick,
hoarsely, his face convulsed with rage. “Tell them I will go.”
“Unless,” pursued the Amir, apparently heedless of the interruption,
although his greedy eyes had not missed the slightest change in the
expression of any of the faces before him, “the woman should find
favour in the eyes of our lord the King. Then she would live for a
time. Afterwards it would be much the same; but whether----”
But the alternative which he had been about to state was left
unuttered, for Dick sprang forward and dealt him a blow which
stretched him on the ground.
[image: images/img_07.jpg
caption:
Dick sprang forward and dealt him a blow which stretched him on the
ground.]
“Say that again if you dare!” he growled, standing over him with
clenched fists; but the Amir, evidently considering that discretion
was the better part of valour, submitted to be helped up and brushed
by his attendants, after which he retired to the rear, Dick turning
contemptuously on his heel and resuming his post beside Stratford.
“Let not my lord heed the sayings of that man,” entreated the old
official, “for he has an evil tongue and loves to stir up strife.”
“Then is what he says not true?” asked Stratford, sternly. And,
divided between a desire to maintain the effect produced and the fear
of Dick’s fist, the ambassador preferred to take refuge in silence.
“We will consult together upon the matter and let you know our
decision presently,” said Stratford, after waiting in vain for an
answer. “If you will not enter, the servants shall spread carpets at
the gate for you.”
The official expressed his gratitude for the courtesy, and the little
party of English retired to the inner court in silence, a silence
which was broken by Fitz as soon as they reached the terrace.
“What do you intend to do?” he demanded of Stratford, glaring at him
with eyes still full of the horror inspired by what he had just heard.
“Don’t ask me!” said Lady Haigh, taking the question as addressed to
herself; and sitting down at the table, she began to sob heavily. “I
shall become a gibbering idiot if this sort of thing goes on,” she
wailed.
“I don’t know what you wanted to pretend to discuss things for,” said
Dick, gruffly. “What’s the good of fooling about with consultations
when I told you I was going?”
“Excuse me,” said Stratford, “you are quite mistaken. I am going.”
Lady Haigh ceased her sobs and looked at him in astonishment, while
Dick uttered an inarticulate exclamation. Fitz alone retained the
power of speech.
“Let me go, Mr Stratford,” he entreated. “Not you; you can’t be
spared. My life isn’t of any value; but every one here depends on you
in this fix. I would do anything for Miss Keeling, and be proud to do
it. You will let me go, won’t you? It doesn’t signify what happens to
me.”
“Stuff and nonsense, Anstruther!” said Stratford, good-humouredly.
“There is plenty for you to do yet. Don’t you see that when the King
has demanded the man in authority, he is scarcely likely to be willing
to accept you instead? You are pretty well known in Kubbet-ul-Haj,
certainly; but although Fath-ud-Din might be glad to welcome you as a
fellow-victim with me, he would hardly regard you with favour as a
substitute.”
“What are we to do without you, Mr Stratford?” asked Lady Haigh,
piteously. “Sir Dugald left everything in your charge.”
“We must trust that the King will prove to be less bloodthirsty than
his ministers,” he answered. “I am not without hopes of making him
listen to reason. Still, one must prepare for the worst, of course.
North, if you will come with me to the office a minute, I will give
you the keys and the seal, and just put you in the way of things a
little.”
Dick followed him in silence; but when they had entered the office he
shut the door and put his back against it.
“Look here, Stratford,” he said, “you have got to let me go. It is my
right, I tell you. I--I love her.”
“Of course you do,” returned Stratford. “I have seen that for some
time. That is why I am glad that you will be left to look after her.
You will have your work cut out for you if you are to get back to
Khemistan after this----”
“Stratford,” said Dick earnestly, “listen to me. This is my business,
and it is very unfriendly of you, though you mean well, to try to take
it from me. I intend to go.”
“Excuse me,” said Stratford, “but it is my business too. No, I am not
hinting at cutting you out, old man--I couldn’t do it if I would. My
reason for going is totally unconnected with Miss Keeling, except in
so far as her danger has brought things to a climax. I am not going to
sign Fath-ud-Din’s treaty; but neither do I intend to be killed if I
can help it. I shall take our treaty with me, and if I leave the
Palace alive I shall bring that treaty out with me, signed. You will
observe that it is not for Miss Keeling that I am risking my life, but
simply on a matter of business. I stake my life against the treaty,
and if I keep the one I gain the other. Of course, if I fail I lose
both. Now do you see it?”
“But I could look after the treaty just the same,” urged Dick.
“No, you couldn’t. You are not a diplomatist, North; you are a
soldier, and tact is not exactly your strong point. I know that you
could die like a hero; but you don’t shine in statecraft, and I am
anxious that no dying shall be necessary, if that is possible. You
understand? It is a matter of personal moment to me to get this treaty
signed, and I ask you, as a favour, to waive your claim to sacrifice
yourself for Miss Keeling.”
“Oh, hang it all!” burst forth Dick. “When you put it in that way,
Stratford, what can a man do but make a fool of himself, and let you
go? It’s my right, and you take away from me my only chance of showing
her that I would die for her, though I can’t manage to please her. But
we have rubbed through a good deal together, you and I--oh, there, you
can go.”
“Thanks, old man; I thought I knew your sort. That’s settled, then. By
the bye, if they should put an end to me it is just possible that they
might have some one there capable of imitating my writing. They must
have seen my signature on notes and things of that kind. Well, if I
sign any treaty you will find the words run into one another, so that
the _Egerton_ is joined to the _Stratford_. That is the test of
genuineness, do you see?”
“All right.”
“I leave you in charge of everything here, of course. I am very much
afraid that Jahan Beg must have come to grief, so don’t depend upon
him any longer. You won’t be able to leave the Mission yourself now,
of course; but if you can get one of the servants to venture, send him
off to Fort Rahmat-Ullah. The absence of news ought to have put them
on the alert, and if they have any sense they will be preparing a
rescue expedition already; but you can’t count on that. If you see the
faintest chance of getting every one off safely, I charge you most
solemnly to seize it at once, without waiting to see what has become
of me. Such a message as this means war to the knife, and you must
take any opportunity that offers of an escort, for to fight your way
through Ethiopia would be an impossibility, with the women and the
Chief to guard, and no horses. Perhaps Hicks might join forces with
you, if you approached him in a proper spirit, and he would be a real
acquisition, for he has a good number of armed servants, and has seen
something of Indian fighting on the Plains. If he doesn’t see it, you
may have to stand a siege here until relief arrives; but what you are
to do about food I don’t know. I can’t attempt to give you directions.
All I say is, if the worst comes to the worst, leave me and the treaty
alone, and escape as best you can.”
“All right,” said Dick again.
“Here are the keys. Young Anstruther will show you how the papers are
arranged. And, by the bye, if I don’t come back, send my things to my
sister, Mrs Rowcroft, Branscombe Vicarage, Homeshire, and tell her how
it was. She is the only near relation I have, and we haven’t met for
nearly twenty years.”
They left the office together, and returned to the terrace.
“Mayn’t I go, Mr Stratford?” cried Fitz, starting up to meet them.
“Certainly not. I told you that before.”
“Mightn’t I come with you, then? We could fight back to back, you
know.”
“No, thanks. But I will borrow that large old-fashioned pistol of
yours, if you have no objection. You will probably not see it again in
any case, so don’t lend it me if it is a favourite.”
Fitz was off immediately, and Stratford turned to Lady Haigh.
“You will think me an unconscionable borrower,” he said, “but there is
a miniature revolver of Sir Dugald’s for the loan of which I should be
most grateful. It is smaller than any of ours, and easier to hide.”
“I will tell Chanda Lal to look it out at once,” said Lady Haigh, and
went to find the bearer.
“Now, Mr Kustendjian, I should like our treaty, please,” said
Stratford. “You have nearly finished the second copy of it, I think?”
“Nearly,” said the Armenian, whose English seemed almost to have
forsaken him under the influence of horror. “You will have need of me,
Mr Stratford?”
“No, indeed. I will take no one into danger with me. Thank you,
Anstruther,” as Fitz reappeared with a large brass-mounted pistol. “I
will load it simply with powder, I think. It will be less dangerous if
it should happen to go off in my coat-pocket. There! How does that
look?”
“It sticks out a good deal,” said Fitz, surveying the coat critically.
“Any one could see that you had a pistol in that pocket.”
“That is exactly the impression I wish to produce. One thing more you
can do for me, Anstruther. Just rummage among the stores, and see
whether you can find any description of food that has a good deal of
nourishment in very small compass.”
Fitz departed again, and presently Lady Haigh returned with the little
revolver, which Stratford loaded carefully and slipped up his left
coat-sleeve. Dick and Kustendjian watched him curiously and with
respect. It was evident that he had some plan in his head, but neither
of them could divine what it was. A minute or two later Fitz came up
the steps with a box of meat lozenges in his hand, and presented it to
him.
“Will these do, Mr Stratford?” he asked. “They were the smallest
things I could find. There were tinned soups, of course, and
chocolate; but I thought these would have more nourishment in them.”
“Quite right,” said Stratford; “they are the very thing. Is that the
treaty, Mr Kustendjian? I think my preparations are complete, then.
You will say good-bye to the Chief for me when he is better, Lady
Haigh?”
“Must you go?” whispered Lady Haigh, hoarsely, as she held his hand.
“I must,” he said. “If I should escape, Sir Dugald’s work will have
been completed. You will like to remember that.”
“I shall ride to the Palace with you,” said Dick, as they went down
the steps.
“It will be just as well, for you will be able to escort Miss Keeling
back. It would be a pity for them to keep her in their hands after
all.”
Another interruption met them as they emerged from the archway into
the outer court. Waiting for them there, with his hand lifted to the
salute, was old Ismail Bakhsh the gatekeeper, a former trooper of the
Khemistan Horse, the celebrated force to which Dick was attached, and
which had been raised in the first instance by Georgia’s father,
General Keeling.
“Will my lord tell his servant,” he asked Stratford, “whether it is
true what they are saying among the servant-people, that my lord goes
to the Palace to give his life for the doctor lady’s?”
“It is true,” answered Stratford.
“Let my lord listen to his servant, for it is not fitting that my lord
should accept death for the sake of one who has no claim on him. I
served for ten years under Sinjāj Kīlin the general, and I will go
in my lord’s place, because I have eaten of Sinjāj Kīlin’s salt, and
it is not right that his daughter should come to shame or harm while
Ismail Bakhsh lives.”
“Your loyalty to your old general is only what I should have expected
from you, Ismail Bakhsh, but the King demands my presence, and not
another’s.”
“But would my lord sacrifice himself for a woman--and that woman not
even of his house?”
“I would do it for a woman, Ismail Bakhsh, and so would any of us,
when we would not do it for a man.”
“It is the way of the English,” said Ismail Bakhsh, thoughtfully, with
grieved surprise in his tone. “That my lord should give his life for
his lord, the Envoy of the Empress, would be no great matter--but for
a woman!”
Stratford laughed.
“Not only I, but all three of us, Ismail Bakhsh, would have given our
lives rather than that a hair of the doctor lady’s head should be
injured.”
“God forbid!” said Ismail Bakhsh, piously. “Let not my lord speak such
words in the hearing of the scum of the earth out yonder, or there
will be none, either of English men or women, to see Khemistan again.”
“You observe that, North?” said Stratford. “Any undue display of
chivalrous sentiments here is likely to land you deeper in
difficulties, so keep them to yourself. Chivalry is at a discount in
Kubbet-ul-Haj.”
They mounted their horses, and accompanied the ambassadors back to the
Palace, half-a-dozen armed servants following them, in case the King
should show a disposition to claim Dick’s life as well as that of
Stratford in exchange for Georgia. When the greater part of the
journey had been accomplished, and the frowning walls of the Palace
courtyard were just in sight, they met the well-known procession of
slaves and soldiers guarding the litter, which had so often come to
the Mission to fetch the doctor lady.
“Evidently they sent off a swift messenger to tell them that we
accepted the terms, and the King is anxious to show that he confides
in our good faith,” said Stratford. “Funny mixture, isn’t he? Well,
you will turn back here, North, I suppose? There is no particular use
in your coming on further.”
“Let me go instead of you,” entreated Dick once more.
“My dear fellow, haven’t I wasted enough breath on you yet? I thought
we had threshed all that out long ago, and that you were quite
convinced. By the bye, now that we are abreast of the litter, it might
be as well for you to make sure that Miss Keeling really is inside. It
would be irritating to be fooled now.”
Doggedly Dick pushed his way through the guards, and raised the
curtain of the litter, in spite of the loud protests of the slaves. He
was fully prepared for a trick; but the eyes which looked up at him
through the lattice-work of the _burka_ were unmistakably Georgia’s,
and it was undeniably Rahah who flung herself forward to draw the
curtain close again, with a shrill rebuke to the slaves for letting
some drunken wretch approach the litter.
“Why, Major North, is it you?” asked Georgia, in astonishment. “Is
anything the matter?”
“Not much--not exactly,” he stammered. “I--he--we fancied it might be
safer if I turned up to escort you home.”
“It was very kind of you,” said Georgia, gratefully. “We had rather a
fright at the Palace; but I will tell you about it presently.”
“Yes--very well,” he muttered incoherently, and, drawing the curtain
again, turned to Stratford; but his lips refused to perform their
office. Stratford held out his hand.
“Good-bye, old man,” he said. “God help you with the job you will have
in hand now.”
“God bless you, Stratford!” burst from Dick. “I wish with all my soul
that I was in your place at this moment.”
He wrung Stratford’s hand, and turned silently to follow the litter
with the servants, while the ambassadors and their prisoner rode on
towards the Palace.
“How shall I ever tell her?” was the question which agitated Dick’s
mind as they neared the Mission. He knew enough of Georgia to feel
sure that, if she been made acquainted with the terms of the King’s
ultimatum, she would promptly have gone back to the Palace, and
refused to allow any one else to be sacrificed for her, and he quailed
under the anticipated necessity of informing her of what had been
done. But he was saved this duty, for as he entered the Mission
courtyard Mr Hicks came hurrying to meet him.
“Well, Major,” he exclaimed, “the King has been playing it pretty low
down on you, I guess. I’m always glad to look on at a fair fight, and
it don’t so much matter to me which of the chaps gives the other beans
so long as everything is done on the square. But when it comes to
getting hold of a woman, and by threatening to torture her, working on
a man’s highest feelings to make him give himself up instead, you may
bet largely that I don’t stand in with doings of that stamp--no, sir!
The moment I heard a rumour of what was going on I made my darkies fly
around, and in just half no time I had everything fixed up to come
here. You may count on me as a fair shot with a Winchester or a
six-shooter if it comes to fighting, and if old Fath-ud-Din and I
catch sight of each other, one of us is bound to send in his checks,
or I’ll never look a woman in the face again. Your nation and mine are
not always sweet to each other, sir; but if there’s any question of a
woman in danger, you may count upon Jonathan to the last drop of his
blood.”
“Much obliged,” muttered Dick; but under his breath he grumbled, “I
wish that voice of yours wasn’t quite so loud.”
Georgia was being helped out of the litter at the moment, and as she
reached the ground she cast a quick, apprehensive glance about her.
Her hand was on Dick’s arm; Fitz was coming through the archway, and
Kustendjian was visible on the verandah of the Durbar-hall. Ismail
Bakhsh and his subordinates stood by the gate, looking at her with
disapproving eyes, silent and grim, and her mind filled up in a moment
the gaps in Mr Hicks’ speech. A sob broke from her as she stood gazing
from one to the other; then her hand dropped from Dick’s arm, and,
gathering her _burka_ around her, she passed on into the inner court.
Dick followed, with a vague notion of saying something to comfort her;
but at the foot of the steps she turned and faced him.
“You let Mr Stratford go to the Palace in exchange for me--_you_ let
him?” she asked sharply, and waited for his answer with breathless
anxiety.
“I tried to prevent him--he would go,” stammered Dick.
“_You_ let him sacrifice himself to save me? If anything happens to
him I will never, never speak to you again as long as I live!” and she
turned her back on him and fled up the steps. He stood looking after
her, stupefied.
“She cares for him, and I never guessed it,” he muttered to himself.
“I might have saved him for her, and I have let him go and get himself
killed by those fiends yonder!”