We were now within four days' ride of Meshed Ali, and the Governor (as we still called him) decided that, before entering the town, it would be necessary to send forward messengers, with presents to the notables, requesting an asylum, and asking permission to rent suitable quarters. This, we learned, might take some considerable time, and in the meanwhile the kafila was to halt and prepare for the entry into the Holy City. This delay was most annoying to Edwards and myself, for having returned, as it were, to the outskirts of civilisation, we were anxious to take an affectionate farewell of our friends, to whom we could be no longer of any assistance, and get away on our own business. Edwards, of course, wished to return to Baghdad as soon as possible; and I was equally desirous of seeking out Faris, with a view to learning if he had discovered anything about the Golden Girdle.
"I have been thinking," said Edwards, "that we might clear out from here. I do not see any use in going on with Ali Khan to Meshed Ali. Our presence cannot make much difference, and I do not suppose that he and Haroun really care whether we see them all the way to the town or not. They will not want a doctor any longer, and they know that as soon as we reach Meshed Ali we shall continue the journey to Baghdad."
"I quite agree," said I; "the only thing is that we must not do anything to wound the feelings either of Ali Khan or of Haroun. I am still haunted by the idea that it was entirely through us that the poor old Governor came to grief, and he has been a perfect brick about it. Just think what it all means to him."
"Of one thing," said Edwards, "you may be certain. Directly I get back to Baghdad, I will induce the Consul-General to espouse his cause, and I will do my utmost to persuade him to worry the Turkish authorities to death, or at any rate until they have seen justice done to Ali Khan. If they choose, they can easily give Hayil a slap on the face, and reinstate Ali Khan at Adiba, that is to say if the town has not been destroyed."
"Well," said I, "shall we go and suggest that we would like to go off to Baghdad at once, without waiting to go to Meshed Ali?"
"We cannot tackle the business to-night," said Edwards. "It is too late now; I expect they have all turned in; but we will see about it in the morning. We have not yet settled what we are going to do about this feeble prisoner and his two friends."
"Perhaps," I suggested, "they will let them go as our guides."
"Not they," said Edwards. "Each of them means a bit of money—a ransom of a hundred camels for the lot, at least."
"There is nothing for it then," said I, "but the small-pox yarn."
"But I told Haroun to-day that I thought the sick man was ever so much better," remarked Edwards.