"There was no wound?"
"None, Effendina."
"The thong?"
"There was no mark, Effendina."
"Poison?"
"There was no sign, Effendina."
"Diamond-dust?"
"Impossible, Effendina. There was not time. He was alive and well here at the Palace at eleven, and—" Kaid made an impatient gesture. "By the stone in the Kaabah, but it is not reasonable that Foorgat should die in his bed like a babe and sleep himself into heaven! Fate meant him for a violent end; but ere that came there was work to do for me. He had a gift for scenting treason—and he had treasure." His eyes shut and opened again with a look not pleasant to see. "But since it was that he must die so soon, then the loan he promised must now be a gift from the dead, if he be dead, if he be not shamming. Foorgat was a dire jester."
"But now it is no jest, Effendina. He is in his grave."
"In his grave! Bismillah! In his grave, dost thou say?"