"What, Aziz!" gasped Edwards, gazing at him in blank astonishment. "How, in heaven's name, did you get here?"
"Hoozoor," answered the lad, beaming with joy at the sight of his long-lost master, "I was ordered some days back, to pack clothes for your highness and the other sahib, and to leave Baghdad with the dragoman and some zaptiehs, and to come to Hillah. I suffered much on the road from fear of robbers, who were reported to be numerous, but, praise be to Allah, we arrived here safely."
"Where is Dimitri Sahib?" asked Edwards.
"He journeyed a few days since to Meshed Ali," said Aziz, "saying that he went to meet you, and would return with you here."
Then we plied the boy with questions, in the attempt to discover what rumour had said about us, but we could get no coherent story out of him. From what we could gather, at first we were supposed to have been murdered; but, after a time, a report came that we had turned Mohammedans, and were living with the people of some distant desert town. But he did not appear to know very much, and he harked back continuously to what was evidently the most important thing in the world, viz., that he, Aziz, had braved the perils of the journey from Baghdad to Hillah—in his eyes as great an event as a pilgrimage to Mecca. We forgave him, however, for his inability to provide us with news, chiefly because of the skill that he had displayed in his selection of the clothes which he thought we would require. He had forgotten nothing; and it was a real delight to us, after we had passed through the hands of the barber and revelled in our baths, to get into true British suits again.
Our toilet completed, we returned, with the patient orderly who had been waiting for us, to our quarters, where we found the Commandant and several other officers ready to accompany us to the Governor's audience. The Commandant looked us up and down with apparent satisfaction, and then we all marched off. Whether we were still supposed to be prisoners I could not make out; at any rate, we walked along by the side of the Commandant, and conversed with him as if we were his oldest friends, until we reached our destination when everyone suddenly assumed an official air.
A verbatim report of what took place at the great interview which followed I shall not attempt to give. I doubt if any shorthand writer could have done justice to it, for it was what may be described as unconventional. We were treated by the Governor with the greatest deference, and we were asked innumerable questions on everything connected with the desert and the people whom we had come across. The Aeniza and the Shammar, however, did not interest them much, as they were regarded, like mosquitoes, as necessary evils. What they wanted information about was Adiba and the trouble with Hayil, and on this topic we were considered to be (as indeed we probably were) the best authorities. Between us, we related our experiences with Ali Khan, and gave a graphic description of the bombardment of his town and of his enforced flight, striving to impress upon our listeners that he had been basely betrayed by his Arab doctors, and that the Amir of Hayil had behaved in a most high-handed manner. The dropping of the proverbial pin could have been heard while Edwards gave his account of his treatment of the sick child, and his description of the way in which he had outwitted his rival physicians was received with no little applause. Ali Khan became the hero of the hour, and the tyrant of Hayil was freely cursed. Many and various were the questions asked us about the road to Adiba, about the town itself, and about the strength of its defences, and then we learned that Hayil was in the bad books of the Ottoman Empire, and that the Turkish troops would probably be ordered to conduct Ali Khan back to Adiba.
So far we had got on capitally, and had quite enjoyed the interview. Now, however, the conversation took an awkward turn, and the Governor's questions became more or less of a personal nature.
"Some four months ago," said our inquisitor, "you two gentlemen were here, in Hillah. You left the town against the wishes of the Captain of Police; he, poor man, is no more, but I possess a document signed by yourselves, and its contents you will probably remember. In it you stated that you determined to visit certain tribes of the desert, even although he warned you that to do so might place himself and his Government in difficulties. What have you to answer on that count?"
"Nothing," I replied, "except that we regret to have been the cause of any inconvenience to your Government. We were anxious to visit the Bedouins in their encampments, and we were willing to accept all risk in so doing."