"It must be to-night," he whispered hoarsely, "Tomorrow the King----"
She could have struck him full upon the mouth, but she sate trembling with tense desire to do so.
"If I promise," she asked firmly, "may this paper be mine?" She had noticed that it was signed and countersigned by the captain and commandant of the guard. If she had it, it might be difficult to get another. Anyhow it would show good faith.
Ibrahîm's face grew hard. "Nay, fair one," he said, "hardly till the promise is fulfilled. I must have due security."
And she must have it also, she thought fiercely. Aye, she knew him, devil-spawn, vile utterly. He meant to take all from her and send the order too. She might give him everything at eleven and yet at one--eleven and one!--11 and 1!
She glanced hastily at the paper; then sate silent her face hardening, her hands still playing idly with the pens in the pen bag.
"Think over it, bibi" he said insinuatingly for even the faint lamp light showed her bewilderingly beautiful. "It is not so much to ask! I am no ill-favoured churl, and before heaven, I love thee. Then, surely, thou wouldst not betray the King."
Betray the King! No! that must never be. She had thought of a way to prevent that.
"And--and if I give the audience thou desirest at--at eleven?" she began slowly.
He fell at her feet rapturously. "Âtma! I swear!"