A LAST EFFORT.
/Colonel Bayard/ looked after Brian with a sigh. “Your brother is
highly conscientious, ma’am, but I hope I know better than to use
improper language about his chief in his presence. Nor have I anything
worse to say of the General than that I believe from my soul he had no
evil intention in putting me in my present disagreeable position.”
“Ah, believe me, his one thought was to atone to you for any slight
Lord Maryport might have seemed to offer,” said Eveleen earnestly. He
sighed again, impatiently.
“Then why this strange behaviour on his part? I was upheld by the
consciousness of rectitude, reconciled to the Governor-General’s
unjust treatment by the prospect it gave me of a speedy reunion with
my wife--actually on the point of departure for home. Then I am
summoned back in the most peremptory manner, compelled to sacrifice my
passage and relinquish my hopes. And for what? I believed, all my
friends believed, the Bombay papers proclaimed their hearty
concurrence--that Sir Henry had recognised his own incapacity for the
task allotted to him, and desired the Governor-General to command my
return. There was nothing peculiar in this save the singularity of
such a frank acknowledgment on his part--which I conceived accorded
strictly with the candour of his nature as I had experienced it,--and
it explained the haughty tone of Lord Maryport’s letter. The assiduous
attentions of the Khans on my way up the river showed that they took
the same view, and I made haste to join Sir Henry and relieve him, as
I imagined, from the burden of a duty unsuited to his talents. What
was the reality? I make no complaint of finding myself second where I
was formerly first, though I own it grated upon me; but in our first
interview it was made clear to me that Sir Henry desired my services
purely in a minor capacity. I was to be nothing but a _putli_ [puppet]
in his hands. Tell me, I beg of you, whether this was his attitude
from the first, or whether he changed towards me when he perceived the
delight with which my return was welcomed?”
He had so obviously decided in his own mind in favour of the second
alternative, that Eveleen and her husband both found it difficult to
answer him. Richard spoke hesitatingly at last. “I tried to hint at
what I believed to be the General’s true state of mind in one of my
letters, you may remember.”
“Did you? It’s possible. But if I noticed it, I set it down to your
habitual caution. But Mrs Ambrose--why did she not warn me three weeks
ago? I made no secret then of the feelings that inspired me.”
“Ah, forgive me!” cried Eveleen, conscience-stricken. “I tried--indeed
I tried--but you would not understand. And how would I tell you such
a thing as that straight out?”
“No, I suppose it would be impossible to an Irish person,” he spoke as
though to himself. “But what I can’t make out is”--with renewed
vehemence--“how Sir Henry can have asked for me, knowing my views and
my friendship with the Khans, and knowing also that all his intentions
were diametrically opposed to the policy I have consistently pursued?”
“No, there you do him an injustice,” said Richard quickly. “He had no
such intentions--he was as favourably disposed towards their
Highnesses as yourself. You and he were agreed upon the necessity of
forcing them to observe their obligations--but doing so in the most
considerate manner. I give you my word, I believe there has been too
much consideration. Had you been with us instead of at Bombay, and
witnessed the ingenious provocations, the childish artifices to which
the Khans have resorted, as though determined to tire out our
patience, you must have decided, with the General, that they had
exceeded all limits of toleration.”
“‘_Et tu, Brute!_’” said Colonel Bayard mournfully. “‘Mine own
familiar friend----’”
“Pray don’t think I am alone in this. You have met a good many of the
Khemistan Europeans in these three weeks. Is there one of them that
takes your view of the case in opposition to the General’s?”
“The General is the disposer of benefits nowadays,” irritably. “Nay,
forgive me--I am unjust. But these youths are all agog for
war--naturally enough; Sir Henry has trained ’em for it. Of course
they rejoice in the prospect of hostilities.”
“Not I. I have seen war in Ethiopia, and know what it means. Am I
likely to wish to bring it upon Khemistan if it can be avoided? But I
tell you plainly, I believe a temporising policy here, pursued further
at the present juncture, would lead to a retreat and a disaster which,
following upon our Ethiopian misfortunes, would lose us India. The
Khans--and especially Gul Ali--have played with us too long already.”
“I could forgive Sir Henry everything,” cried Colonel Bayard
vigorously, roused by the name, “but his treatment of Gul Ali. To
affect to hold the poor old man to a renunciation extorted from him by
force by that villain Shahbaz Khan is an outrage of which I had
fancied him incapable.”
“But sure he did resign the Turban to Shahbaz!” said Eveleen in
perplexity.
“True--most solemnly,” agreed her husband. “But when he quitted
Shahbaz’s hospitable roof, he saw fit to change his mind, and declare
the renunciation a farce.”
“And no wonder!” cried Colonel Bayard warmly. “When it was only
brought about by the pressure imposed on him by that most abandoned
scoundrel----”
“We have often agreed that Shahbaz was the ablest of the Khans,” said
Richard imperturbably. “You said to me once you saw no hope for the
dynasty but in him.”
“True, but he had not then shown himself in his real--his most
iniquitous colours. To force his innocent and venerable brother to
cede him the Turban by threats----”
“His innocent and venerable brother having failed to rob him of his
heirship by intrigues----” crisply.
“Ambrose, you are hopeless!” cried Colonel Bayard warmly. “The General
has bewitched you. Mrs Ambrose, in your gentle breast I know I shall
touch a chord of sympathy with the aged Prince’s misfortunes. Listen,
I beg of you. I was riding with the advanced guard from Bidi--where I
caught up the force--when we met a solitary _cossid_ mounted on a
camel. He recognised me, and dismounting, threw himself at my feet,
and bewailed the miserable lot of his master. With the General’s
permission I volunteered to seek out my old friend, and convey to him
the assurances of safety and kind treatment from Sir Henry, which it
occurred to me Shahbaz Khan must have kept back. You had said to me
that you suspected something of the sort, ma’am; do you remember?
Well, I found Gul Ali encamped in the jungle--a few wretched _rowties_
[small common tents] sheltering the few retainers who remained
faithful to him. Our appearance--your brother accompanied me, by the
way--produced at first the utmost consternation, the fugitives fearing
an attack. But my name restored confidence, and the Prince met and
embraced me, and conducted me into his miserable dwelling. Old and
sick, exposed to the heavy rains--this was the plight of the man I had
last seen enthroned in his palace. Briefly he unfolded to me his
brother’s perfidy. As I expected, Shahbaz had induced him to abdicate
by the strongest assurances of Sir Henry’s hostile disposition towards
him. I pledged him my honour that he was mistaken, and he would fain
have accompanied me there and then to make his submission. But I knew
he would find Shahbaz with the General, and fearing his timidity might
betray him once more, I persuaded him to send his son--not Karimdâd,
of course, but one of the younger ones--and a nephew instead.”
“That was the mistake!” said Richard sharply. “Had he but met the
General face to face----”
“Easy enough to see where another man has gone wrong.” Colonel Bayard
spoke with some displeasure. “Well, ma’am, sherbet was served, and we
parted with the usual compliments. My one aim was to lead the young
Khans to Sir Henry before they could be intimidated by Shahbaz. Alas!
it did not occur to me that he might corrupt them instead, though when
we met him he embraced them cordially, and begged a visit after their
audience. I took them to Sir Henry’s tent, where we all sat on the
carpet together, since there were no chairs. The General, who had met
the youths very civilly, addressed them kindly, but with
severity--through his Munshi, not through me--nor did he make the
slightest show of consulting me. Seeing me thus set aside, and reading
in his decided tone that he regarded them as rebels, is it any wonder
the young Khans were seized with alarm? They left his presence--I
suggested to him to show his goodwill by shaking hands with ’em, which
he did very readily--to seek Shahbaz, and I grieve to say they were
persuaded by that villainous plotter to betray their aged parent into
his hands. They saw Shahbaz enjoying Sir Henry’s favour and possessing
all the tokens of power, and in return for his bribes they fell in
with his designs. I despatched a spy to Gul Ali’s camp to mark their
return there, for I feared all was not well, and it was as I feared.
They insisted upon the General’s angry tone and the curtness of the
terms he had used, and declared it as his command that Gul Ali should
surrender himself again to Shahbaz at Bidi. Asked what part I, their
friend, had taken in the interview, they replied that even were I
sincere in my professions--of which they hinted a doubt--it was clear
I was devoid of any power to help. Do you wonder that the unfortunate
old man feared to offer the personal submission for which Sir Henry
had stipulated? Once again he made his escape--and so unremitting is
Shahbaz in his villainy that he even succeeded in bribing his
brother’s Munshi to substitute a defiant message under his seal for
the letter he had despatched in excuse for his non-appearance. Sir
Henry was highly irritated, and lent an ear all the more readily to
the poisonous suggestions of Shahbaz. With a view of clinching
matters, he replied to the letter with a direct refusal to communicate
further with Gul Ali unless he gave effect to his forced renunciation
by recognising his brother as Chief Khan.”
“But sure ’twas the wisest thing he could do!” Eveleen had been
bubbling over for some moments with the desire to speak. “Wouldn’t you
say the unfortunate old creature was silly? He can do no good for
himself or anybody else.”
Colonel Bayard was painfully taken aback. “I didn’t expect this from
you, Mrs Ambrose. Is the unhappy Gul Ali to be branded as a fool
because unfortunate? His misfortunes all spring from the misdeeds of
others.”
“Ah, but do they? Is he able to retain the fidelity of a single
supporter, will you tell me? Has he taken one bit of the advice you
have given him, or kept any single promise he has made? I grant you
he’s unfortunate, but I’d say with all my heart he was incapable as
well!”
“A Daniel come to judgment!” said Richard drily.
“And if he ain’t incapable,” pursued Eveleen, rushing on before
Colonel Bayard could speak, “he’s treacherous, believe me. As Ambrose
says, you don’t know the things he has been doing--stopping the
_dâks_ and attacking our boats on the river, besides the army he’s
been getting together. And when poor Sir Harry sends word that the
army is to be disbanded, all the old horror will do is to say there’s
no army to disband.”
“Precisely. How can he disband an army if he hasn’t got one? I grant
you that in their childish way the Khans have sought to lead Sir Henry
to think they were raising troops, but this was purely make-believe,
designed to deter him from attempting decisive measures against them.”
“Then they were finely mistaken in Sir Harry! But believe me, they
have been assembling their Arabit hordes for months. We have heard too
much of them to doubt that. Ah, don’t let your kind heart set you
against the General and all of us who see that unfortunate old
deceiver as he really is, and not as you do--an angel with wings a
weeshy bit muddy!”
“I have brought this upon myself, I suppose----” with a pique he could
not disguise. “But don’t be afraid, ma’am. I value my friends too
highly to part company with ’em over a difference of opinion, and I
trust they’ll extend the like compliment to me. This last effort to
preserve the authority of the Khans and prevent bloodshed I’ll carry
through with my whole heart. If it fail, my work here is done. I am
merely, as Sir Henry has more than once reminded me, a commissioner
under a peace treaty, and if there’s no treaty, I am at liberty to go
home.”
“Now why would such a nice man be so unreasonable as all that?” asked
Eveleen mournfully as he left them.
“Why, my dear, ain’t all nice people the same, in your estimation?”
Richard’s tone tried to be jaunty--not very successfully.
“Like yourself? Well, I wouldn’t say quite all--but a good many,
certainly. But sure Bayard will never be able to call Sir Harry
unreasonable after this. Did y’ever see anything like the way he has
given in to him time and again?”
“I own I never thought he had it in him to be so patient. If Bayard
succeeds in persuading the Khans to consult their own interests and
submit, they will have the General to thank, not themselves.”
“And if they won’t consult their own interests, and will not submit,
there’s not a soul on earth can accuse Sir Harry of dealing with them
hastily.”
“I don’t say that. People can say strange things. But if the Khans
have an anna’s worth of sense in their foolish heads, they will
submit--having stood out to the very last moment.”
“Well, I’m sorry for it!” said Eveleen. “Why, now”--as he looked at
her in amazement,--“have you forgotten I was against the silly
creatures from the first? Ever since Bayard said he had no power to
make them treat the women properly, don’t you know?”
“I had forgotten, certainly. Now I have some faint recollection----”
“Y’are very flattering!” sharply.
“If you expect me to remember all the contradictory speeches you make
on all sorts of topics, I fear, my dear----”
“When you talk like that, you make me feel I’d do _anything_--anything
in the wide world--to make an impression, to let you feel you had to
reckon with me.”
“My dear, pray don’t! I assure you it ain’t necessary any longer.”
Whether his alarm was real or pretended she could not distinguish.
“Henceforth your wildest utterances shall be most carefully weighed.
You forget you have already carried out your threat--by presenting
yourself here. If we get through, I promise you won’t find me
disregarding your threats again.”
“You don’t put it _very_ nicely,” she complained. “But tell me
now--d’ye really think we’ll have to fight?”
But apparently Richard repented his freedom of speech. “Not a bit of
it!” crushingly. “What I’m afraid of is that you will be actually and
literally bored to death.”
And not a word more would he say, though Eveleen tried coaxing and
reproaches in turn. Indignant though she was at the time, however,
there were moments, after they had reached Qadirabad, when she began
to feel his prophecy might come true. Whatever excitement there might
be for the men, who rode daily to the Fort to discuss Lord Maryport’s
treaty with the Khans in durbar, life at the Residency was the very
acme of dulness for the woman left at home. If Eveleen had expected to
be able to resume her former pursuits, she was mistaken. She blamed
herself bitterly for not having brought a horse--difficult though it
might have been for poor Captain Franks to find room for it--for the
lack of one played into the hands of her natural enemies. Any man who
prevented, or sought to prevent, Eveleen from riding when she wished
to ride was a natural enemy, and all the members of the
Mission--soldiers and Politicals alike--were immovably united in the
determination that she should not go outside the walls. The only
exception to this rule was the permission to go out by the water-gate,
cross an uninviting tract of sand which was really part of the bed of
the river, but now dry, and thus gain access to the _Asteroid_, which
lay in a meagre trickle called a channel. But this excursion was as
unsatisfying as the ride round the garden, which was the only one
allowed her--if not quite so tantalising,--and she did not repeat it.
If she was not to sink to the lowest depths and gossip with Ketty, she
must find her interests in that dreary treaty, which seemed to be
debated for hours day after day, but never signed. Poor Colonel Bayard
might have been the Khans’ bitterest enemy, instead of their most
tried and persevering friend, by the way they treated him. His
championship of their cause--expressed indiscreetly, perhaps, to Gul
Ali and his retainers--was made an excuse, and a perpetually recurring
one, for tormenting him. Was he really in sympathy with the deposed
Chief, whose honours had been so shamefully filched from him? Oh,
well, if he said so, it must be presumed to be true, but Gul Ali had
heard rumours---- And in any case, if he was on the side of the
oppressed, why was he representing their chief adversary, the Bahadar
Jang? Would he show his friendship by getting Gul Ali replaced in his
position of supremacy, and punishing the presumptuous Shahbaz? Over
and over again, by varying paths, the discussion was led dexterously
to this point, at which the harassed emissary could only reply that he
had no power whatever to interfere with the Governor-General’s
decisions; the utmost he could do would be to urge the expediency of
modifying them. This was not at all what was wanted, and the bald
question invariably followed: If you are a friend, and yet can do
nothing to help us, why are you here? The reply that he had hoped to
make submission easier by entreating instead of imposing it was not at
all in accordance with the Khans’ idea of a friend’s duties.
It almost seemed as though Colonel Bayard might have gone on
indefinitely presenting the treaty, and the Khans talking about it,
had not the spur been applied which the envoy had been dreading. He
had written feverish letters almost daily, entreating the General to
return to Sahar with his force--or at least to remain stationary, and
not pursue the route he had taken on leaving Sultankot, which would
bring him to the river about half-way to Qadirabad. It was the death
blow to his hopes when the news came that not only had Sir Harry
emerged safely on the river bank from the desert, but his flying
column had been joined there by the troops he had left at Bidi. The
effect on the Khans was no less marked. Their Vakils sealed that very
day the pledge which bound them to accept the treaty.
“Did y’ever see a man look so miserable when he’d got what he’d been
fighting for for a week?” demanded Eveleen of her husband when Colonel
Bayard had brought the draft home--not at all in triumph--and laid it
up in his desk. “You’d say he was sorry they have signed, instead of
glad.”
“I believe you. He don’t know whether to blame Sir Henry most for his
show of force, or their Highnesses for permitting themselves to be
affected by it.”
“But sure they couldn’t have gone on hesitating for ever!”
“He had hopes, I’m certain, of inducing the General to promise that if
they would sign the treaty, Gul Ali should get back his Turban. Of
course Sir Henry has no power to promise anything of the kind--it
rests with the Governor-General, and he will never grant it.”
“Well, if I was poor Bayard, I’d be glad the matter was settled and
out of my hands.”
“Pardon me--not if you were he. You would be more unhappy than ever,
because you had not succeeded in averting the misfortune. There’s a
sort of twist in his mind where his dear Khans are concerned. To him,
they and the General alike are pawns in the hand of Shahbaz, who is
the greatest villain existing, and advises all to their destruction.”
“But sure they are all dead against Shahbaz!”
“That’s merely another proof of the man’s cunning. Bayard has
persuaded himself that Shahbaz is so steeped in plots he can’t eat his
pillau without some ulterior object, while his poor simple brother and
nephews, beguiled by his subtlety, are innocent lambs asking to be
shorn. Lambs, indeed! much more like wolves, they look to other
people.”
“Then you think there’s danger?” Eveleen’s eyes were sparkling.
“I do think so, and I’ll tell you why. Perhaps it will make you more
contented to stay indoors, as you are told. The city is swarming with
Arabits, whose demeanour is as uncivil as they dare, though for the
moment they are held in check. Through some extraordinary blindness,
Bayard don’t see them--as a danger, at any rate. Not an armed man in
the streets, he writes to the General. They all have their swords and
shields--what does he expect of ’em? muskets and revolving pistols?
Their matchlocks are close at hand, I haven’t a doubt. And all our
spies bring in word of fresh bands--either concealed at a convenient
distance from the city, or pressing towards it from all quarters.
Kamal-ud-din alone, they say, has assembled ten thousand men, and is
approaching by forced marches. And here are we allowing ourselves to
be played with, while precious time--every day of which augments the
Arabit hosts--is lost!”
“Now I wonder why wouldn’t you tell Bayard that?” asked Eveleen
curiously.
“Do you think I haven’t?” he laughed shortly. “I try to bring the
reports to his notice, but he has no eye for ’em--too much engrossed
with the unmerited sufferings of that crew at the Fort. I wonder what
will be their next expedient for gaining time? He will allow himself
to be taken in by it, I’ll wager, through sheer remorse at having
conquered ’em so far!”
But perhaps the Khans thought their hold on Colonel Bayard was wearing
a little thin. At any rate, their next step was taken entirely without
his assistance. When he opened his desk in the morning, that he might
take the draft treaty with him to the Fort, the treaty was
gone--without any sign of violence, or even the forcing of the lock.
In this the thieves had overreached themselves. There were only two
keys to the desk, one of which was in Colonel Bayard’s own possession,
the other in that of his Munshi. The Munshi was a Qadirabad man, and
had returned to his home there when his employer left Khemistan for
Bombay, so that the Khans had had some three months in which to exert
upon him the various methods of persuasion in which they excelled.
Arrested promptly, he was so grievously surprised and terrified that
he made a full confession. For a handsome consideration, he had
unlocked the desk in the night and turned his back for a moment, then
locked the desk again, having seen and heard nothing. That was all he
knew, but the work had all to be done again.
For once, however, Colonel Bayard refused to take the part of his
gentle protégés. To corrupt his servant and break into his house,
that they might destroy the draft they had signed of their own free
will, was too much even for him. The treaty was gone, but in durbar
that day he took a high tone which brought the Khans to heel like
whipped dogs. They apologised piteously for the misdeed of some
unnamed retainer, who had been led away by the hope of helping his
masters to bribe the Munshi and steal and destroy the paper. They had
known nothing of the crime, they declared, and to prove it they would
set their seals the very next day to the treaty itself--not a mere
draft this time, but the whole of Lord Maryport’s requirements. Having
made this tremendous concession, it would not have been the Khans if
they had not promptly endeavoured to nullify it by demanding that Gul
Ali should have the Turban restored to him; otherwise, they said, it
was quite unnecessary to make a new treaty, since they had never
broken the old one. But Colonel Bayard was still sufficiently
disgusted and disillusioned to reply with a curt negative, and
returned with his staff to the Residency through streets ominously
filled with a sullen throng, who surged up to the very horses of the
escort, and muttered curses on the Farangis.
When they went to the Fort the next day, there was not a man of the
Mission who did not feel doubtful whether he would ever return. The
crowds in the streets were larger and more menacing, and it was with
the utmost difficulty that a passage was forced through them. The
demeanour of the guards and attendants showed a scarcely veiled
insolence, and round the walls of the audience-chamber were ranged a
small army of wild-looking Arabits, armed to the teeth. After their
long acquaintance, the Khans ought to have known Colonel Bayard
better, for this suggestion of physical force was the one thing needed
to stiffen his temper. He refused even to enter the durbar-hall till
the additional guards were withdrawn, and declined to be placated by
the suggestion that they were there to do honour to the treaty. The
Khans were evidently flurried by his coldness, and affixed their seals
in some haste, Gul Ali only pausing to remark in heartrending tones
that he had laid his life and honour and everything he had at the feet
of the British, and they had taken it all away. Colonel Bayard’s
generous heart responded instantly to the plaint of ill-usage, and he
spoke impulsively. He could do nothing in the matter of the Turban--he
only wished he could--but he would beg Sir Henry Lennox to visit
Qadirabad and hear what the Khans had to say, in the hope that he
might accord as an act of grace what could not be given as a right.
The effect of his hasty speech was electrical. The Khans broke into
radiant smiles, and Khair Husain modestly expressed their unworthiness
to welcome the shining presence of the Bahadar Jang. His gestures were
so emphatic as almost to seem extravagant, and Brian, by a meaning
look, directed his brother-in-law’s attention to a slight confusion
among the servants at the door. The trays of sherbet were just being
brought in, which were the signal for the conclusion of the interview,
and as far as the two men, watching without appearing to do so, could
see, they were hastily carried out again and then brought in a second
time--or possibly others substituted. What was the reason? Poison was
the first thought in the minds of both, and it seemed as though it was
also in that of Khair Husain, for in a rather marked way he drank from
his cup first, and then passed it to Colonel Bayard. The Englishman
had seen nothing of the by-play, and accepted the honour as a mere
graceful compliment, but it seemed to Richard and Brian that Khair
Husain directed an eye towards them as he drank. When they left the
audience-chamber, they were surprised to find a band of Arabit
horsemen drawn up facing their own troopers. Little Hafiz Ullah Khan,
the youngest of the princely family, who was escorting them to the
gate, explained volubly--
“It is those _badmashes_ outside--we cannot control them. They are
angry because the treaty is signed and my great-uncle’s wrongs have
not been redressed, and they might show rudeness. Therefore we send an
escort of our own to see you safely through the town. Would the
Bahadar Jang be likely to shed the light of his radiant countenance
upon us if he heard that his servants had eaten _gali_ [abuse] in our
streets?”
The reasoning was very clear, but it was abundantly obvious that the
mob were prepared to use much more substantial weapons than abuse. All
down the long Bazar from the gateway of the Fort to the city gate, the
Mission had practically to fight its way. At Colonel Bayard’s earnest
entreaty, his companions succeeded in getting through without drawing
their swords, but in two or three ugly rushes they were forced to
defend themselves by laying about them with the scabbards. The
troopers of the Khemistan Horse were hard to restrain, but they found
some alleviation of their discontent in backing their horses among the
crowd, with a callous disregard of toes and shins. The Khans’ cavalry
did more talking than anything else, but the only time Richard Ambrose
had leisure to listen to them, what they said was significant--“Let
them pass. These men are nothing. Wait till the Bahadar Jang comes!”
Something suspiciously resembling a torrent of curses accompanied the
name, but it might have been directed at the crowd, whose own language
was blood-curdling. It was not until half the distance had been
covered that stones began to fly--the partially demolished house of a
man who had presumed to become unduly rich and had suffered for it
affording a supply of missiles. Then indeed the riders had a hot time,
for to the stones and iron-shod _lathis_ in the street were added
stones and curses from the roofs. Most of them received blows more or
less severe, and Richard had his cap knocked off and got a nasty gash
on the forehead. Happily Brian was in time to prevent his being
knocked off his horse, for any man who went down in that yelling,
swearing, spitting crowd would have small chance to rise again. But
the gate was nearly reached, and the Arabit escort--with the first
sign of common-sense that had distinguished them--made a semicircle
and beat back the mob while their charges were filing through the
narrow portal. Once safely outside, and dignity consulted by riding a
short way as if nothing had happened, they pulled up beside a well to
repair damages. One of the troopers of the escort had an arm broken,
and while Colonel Bayard and the surgeon were looking to him, Richard
submitted unwillingly to the ministrations of his brother-in-law,
which were necessary because the blood running down his face prevented
him from seeing.
“I cot your eye in the durbar just now,” said Brian hastily. “Would
you say you thought what I did?”
“I think the General has saved all our lives without knowing it.”
“But you wouldn’t say he’d come here?”
“I should say the Khans will have to live a good bit longer before
they catch _that_ old weasel asleep.”