For a few moments he sat silent and pondering. The story of the ring was so bound up with that of the ruby sword and the hidden treasure that it was difficult to tell the one without revealing the other. The information which he himself possessed declared that the only man who would be likely to know anything about the matter was the Syyed Aïn Asrâf. He, however, had not recognised the ring. Could there be two Syyeds Aïn Asrâf?
Then he remembered that Yar Hussain was of Afghan descent. Did he know anything of the hiding of the treasure, or at any rate where it was hidden? The first was possible, the second hardly likely, or he would almost certainly have removed it.
“What was the name of the Durani sirdar?” asked Yar Hussain at last. “Dost Hussain Khan,” replied Campian. “He is my father,” said the chief, “and he rests on the rim of Paradise. There is truth in thy statement, O Feringhi, who—they tell me—art now a believer. He was saved by a Feringhi, and an unbeliever, yet a brave and true man, and for him and his we never cease to pray.”
“Then are we brothers, Sirdar,” said Campian, “for the man who saved the life of thy father is my father.”
The astonishment depicted on the faces of those who heard this statement was indescribable.
“Ya Allah!” cried the chief, raising hands and eyes to heaven. “Wonderful are Thy ways! Hast thou a token, Feringhi?”
“Is not that of the ring sufficient?” returned Campian, purposely simulating offence. “If not, listen. The Sirdar Dost Hussain Khan, when pressed by his enemies, concealed his treasures, principal among which was a ruby hilted sword of wellnigh priceless value. This treasure is lost. None know of its whereabouts to this day.”
The chief’s kinsman, whose name was Sohrâb Khan, hardly able to mask his own amazement, translated this. An emphatic assent went up from all who heard.
“The treasure was enclosed in a strong chest of dark wood, three cubits in length, covered with words from the blessed Korân, and clamped with heavy brass bindings,” went on Campian. “The Durani sirdar was killed by the Brahuis. And now, why has the secret of its whereabouts been lost? Does not the Syyed Aïn Asrâf know of it?”
The astonishment on the faces of those who heard found outlet in a vehement negative.