the Honourable Tony’s, but he purred in his throat, which is not
done. “We were alarmed by the good Ghundi’s report of your health.
You suffer?”
“Oh, Ghundi’s overdone it!” protested the Honourable Tony, all
courteous regret, but the carved dimples danced. “I’m no end sorry
that you’ve had all this bother. It’s frightfully decent of you to
give it a thought; nothing in the world the matter but a rather
stiff nip of fever. I was going to turn in in another minute, and
sleep it off. I beg any number of pardons for this costume; it’s
hardly one that I’d have chosen for such an honour.”
“Hardly!” agreed the Sultan cordially. “Hardly! However, as the
visit was unheralded, and as the defects of the costume may be so
easily remedied, we dismiss it gladly. Come, we waive formality;
we have been bored most damnably without you and the excellent
bridge. The mountain comes to Mahomet; my good Mahomet, on with
your boots, on with your coat, and out with your cards. We will
drive off this pestilential fever with three good rubbers and four
good drinks. Ahmet will fetch your coat. It is in your room? Ahmet!”
The Honourable Tony moved more swiftly than Ahmet. He laid one hand
on the handle of the bedroom door, but he did not turn it.
“I’m absolutely sick over making such an ass of myself,” he said
with pleasing candour. “But I do honestly feel too rotten bad to
last out even a hand. I’ll be fit as a fiddle in the morning, and
entirely at Your Majesty’s disposal; but for to-night I’m going to
ask you to excuse me.”
“But to-night we will most certainly not excuse you,” His Imperial
Majesty replied amiably. “No, no, on the contrary. Rather not, as
you say. To-night, Excellency, we are quite through. We have been
culpably lenient and indulgent in the past; we have overlooked
one hundred stupid impertinences and five hundred impertinent
stupidities, but your bridge--your bridge was impeccable and we
have long desired to perfect our game. Now, however, you outreach
our patience. Stand aside, I beg you. When Ahmet fetches your
Excellency’s coat and your Excellency’s boots, he will also fetch
your Excellency’s lady.”
The Honourable Tony gave a shout of astounded delight.
“My hat!” he cried. “But this is simply gorgeous. All this time
that I’ve been ragging you you’ve been plotting a bloody revenge?”
“Revenge,” replied His Imperial Majesty, with an impatient flick of
the white gloves, “is an incident. I wish the woman. Stand aside!”
“It’s a dream,” decided the Honourable Tony, cocking his head with
Epicurean satisfaction. “No, by Heaven, it’s better than a dream.
Just what are you going to do if I don’t stand aside?”
“Shoot you where you stand. Come, come--we are over-patient.”
The Honourable Tony sighed beatifically, as one whose cup of joy
was full to overflowing.
“Oh, come now, if you ask me, you’re dashed impatient. Shooting
me down in this damn casual way--what d’you think the British
Government’s going to make of it?”
“Nothing,” replied the British Government’s loyal ally blandly.
“Nothing whatsoever. In due time the proper authorities will be
informed that you were lost overboard on an expedition after
crocodiles, and owing to the unfortunate proclivities of those
depraved reptiles, your body was not recovered. I do not imagine
that the loss will afflict the Government so deeply as you
imagine.”
The Honourable Tony’s manner changed abruptly from enchanted
amusement to the cold insolence of a badly spoiled young man
dismissing his valet.
“And that’s enough,” he said. “Take your army and be off. You’re
dashed amusing, but you overdo it. If an apology from you were
worth the breath you draw, I’d have one out of you for the country
that I represent and its representative. As it is, I give you fair
warning to clear out; I’m about fed up.”
“Till I count three to stand aside,” remarked His Imperial Majesty
conversationally, abandoning the royal “we” as though it were no
longer necessary in so informal a discussion, “I shall regret the
bridge.”
“You can count to three thousand if you can get that far,” the
Honourable Tony informed him politely. “But while you’re about it
you might remember that we’re in the twentieth century, not the
Adelphi Theatre.”
“We are in Asia,” said His Imperial Majesty. “Life is good,
Excellency, and Death, I am told, is a long and dreary affair. The
woman is not worth it--a gutter rat out of the music halls. It is
her good fortune to amuse me. Stand aside, I beg!”
“My mother was from the music halls,” said the Honourable Tony. “I
have half a mind to mop up the floor with you before I turn in.”
“You are a brave man,” said His Imperial Majesty equably. “And a
fool.” He turned to the black and emerald giants, and they quivered
slightly. “Attention!”
The giants ceased quivering and stood very straight.
“Ready!” said Bhakdi softly. The pearl-handled automatics flashed
like jewels.
“Aim!” said Bhakdi with a flick of the handkerchief toward the slim
figure framed in the doorway.
“You ought to be jolly grateful to me for teaching you all those
nice words,” remarked the figure reproachfully. “They sound simply
corking when you snap ’em out like that.”
“I count,” said Bhakdi. “One.”
“I wish you could see yourselves,” said the Honourable Tony
admiringly. “For all the world like a lot of comic-opera pirates
panting to get into the chorus when the tenor says ‘go.’
‘For-I’m-the-big-bad-black-faced-chief’--you know the kind of
thing.”
“Two,” said Bhakdi.
“I say, you _are_ going it!” cried the British Adviser. In the
gleam from the lanterns his hair was ruffled gold and his eyes
black mischief. “Aren’t you afraid of its being a bit of a let-down
to the Imperial Guard after all this?”
“Three!” said Bhakdi, and he flicked the handkerchief again. “Fire!”
There was a rip and a rattle of sound along the green line--from
the other side of the bolted door there came a faint reply, precise
and sharp as an echo. The Honourable Tony sagged forward to his
knees, still clutching at the handle, his face lit with an immense,
an incredulous amazement.
“By God!” he whispered. “By God, you’ve done it!”
And suddenly in the lean curve of his cheek the dimples danced once
more, riotous and unconquered.
“I say,” he murmured, “I say, Biddy, that’s--that’s a good one!
Comic opera, what? That--that’s a good one--on me----”
His fingers slipped from the door, and he was silent.
* * * * * *
Transcriber’s note:
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise
they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; unpaireded quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious and otherwise left
unpaireded.
Transcriber removed duplicate book title just above the first story.
Page 113: “Fairfax Carter they they should” was printed that way,
but probably should be “that they”.