“Now,” the King continued, “if your report is the true one, I will hold myself responsible for all the evil that has been done. If, on the other hand, mine is true, I shall at once formulate demands which I shall request you to lay before your august master. Now, I invite you, in order that the truth may be placed beyond doubt, to accompany an envoy from this court to Bekal by special train to-day, and there agree as to what has really happened.”
Effenden Pascha shrugged his shoulders.
“I must await the instructions of my master, your Majesty,” he answered, calmly.
“You decline his Majesty’s proposal, then?” Reist asked quietly.
The Turk was silent. The meddlesome Englishman’s pen was in the ink. His presence was disastrous.
“I do not decline—no,” he answered. “I await only a dispatch from Constantinople. I fear that your intelligence department is at fault. There has been no foray on the part of the Turks. My master desires peace above all things.”
Ughtred smiled.
“You say that your master desires peace above all things,” he said. “Let me see what our intelligence department has to say. Since the day of my accession to the throne you have concentrated within twenty miles of my frontier nearly thirty thousand men. Day by day this work of moving up troops has been going on. Last week trains were running all night to Bekal with war material and arms. What does this mean, Effenden Pascha?”
The Turk was dumfounded. The King’s gaze was keen and close. He visibly faltered.
“Your Majesty’s intelligence department has magnified a few harmless movements of troops,” he said. “We have internal troubles in the northern provinces which require strong garrisons.”