“Mr. Brand is an Englishman of distinction,” the King said, softly. “I have appointed him for the present my private secretary. All affairs of State, therefore, are known to him.”
The Turk bowed low. It was no fool, after all, then, with whom he had to do. He went out thoughtfully. The presence of the Englishman had impressed him. In the council room he passed the Duke of Reist hurrying through to the presence of the King.
“Effenden Pascha,” he said, “will you wait for a moment. A dispatch has arrived concerning which the King will desire to see you at once.”
Effenden Pascha smiled, and took a chair in the ante-room beyond. He smoked a cigarette thoughtfully, and drank the coffee which a groom of the chambers hastened to bring him. In ten minutes Reist reappeared.
“Will you come with me?” he said.
Effenden Pascha threw down his cigarette, and followed.
The King had moved into the Council Chamber, and sat at the table with an open telegraph dispatch before him. Baron Doxis, the President of the House of Laws, was on one side of him, and Brand on the other. Effenden Pascha knew very well what was coming. The King looked at him, and there was an added sense of power in the grave, soldierly face.
“Effenden Pascha, we too have received a telegram from Bekal. Its contents are briefly these. Bekal, an unfortified village of Theos, was last night attacked by a large armed body of Turks, who proceeded to rob, murder, and outrage in the most barbarous fashion. My regard, however, for the safety of my frontier towns has led me lately to station bodies of mounted troops within signalling distance of Bekal, and my dispatch informs me that in the fight which followed your troops were driven across the frontier with heavy losses. You will see, Effenden Pascha, that my report and yours differ.”
The Turk smiled incredulously. The reports most certainly did differ.