“You have a woman to fight with,” said the Princess, smiling, “and I have taken my steps so well that no one will seek you here. I told my people to bring you both, and they obeyed. They would have sooner died than failed.”
“Tell me more,” said Chumbley, quickly. “Have you seen Mr Harley?”
“I will tell you nothing,” said the Princess, “till you are both my friends. There, I must leave you now. Promise me you will be patient, and not so foolish as to try to escape and fight. It would be horrible to me if you or any of my people should be hurt in some mad attempt. Promise me you will be patient and not try.”
“Not I,” said Chumbley, laughing. “I shall try to escape, and so will he.”
“Then you are wicked and foolish!” cried the Inche Maida, angrily.
“Both, I am afraid,” said Chumbley. “I always was; but may I make a request as a prisoner?”
“As a visitor, yes,” said the Princess, smiling. “May I ask, then, if you propose to gild the bars of our cage?”
“I do not understand,” she replied, gazing at him earnestly.
“I mean that it is very hot. May I have a cold drink of some kind; and do you allow smoking in the drawing-room?”
The Princess smiled, and in what Chumbley afterwards called the Arabian Nights style, clapped her hands, when a couple of Malay slave-girls ran in, received their orders, and hurried out again, while their mistress walked to the window, as she had done more than once before, apparently with the idea of giving her prisoners an opportunity to converse and debate their position.