"And if he fails—a penalty? He will lose his place?" asked David, with cold humour.
"More than his place," Kaid rejoined, with a cruel smile.
"Then is his place mine, Effendina," rejoined David, with a look which could give Achmet no comfort. "Thou will bring Nahoum—thou?" asked Kaid, in amazement.
"I have brought him," answered David. "Is it not my duty to know the will of the Effendina and to do it, when it is just and right?"
"Where is he—where does he wait?" questioned Kaid eagerly.
"Within the Palace—here," replied David. "He awaits his fate in thine own dwelling, Effendina." Kaid glowered upon Achmet. "In the years which Time, the Scytheman, will cut from thy life, think, as thou fastest at Ramadan or feastest at Beiram, how Kaid filled thy plate when thou wast a beggar, and made thee from a dog of a fellah into a pasha. Go to thy dwelling, and come here no more," he added sharply. "I am sick of thy yellow, sinful face."
Achmet made no reply, but, as he passed beyond the door with Higli, he said in a whisper: "Come—to Harrik and the army! He shall be deposed. The hour is at hand." High answered him faintly, however. He had not the courage of the true conspirator, traitor though he was.
As they disappeared, Kaid made a wide gesture of friendliness to David, and motioned to a seat, then to a narghileh. David seated himself, took the stem of a narghileh in his mouth for an instant, then laid it down again and waited.
"Nahoum—I do not understand," Kaid said presently, his eyes gloating.
"He comes of his own will, Effendina."