"Great is the power of your master," he said. "As Russia is bigger than America, so does his power exceed that of the flaxen-haired gentleman I met yesterday. The Americans are numbered by tens, your master's subjects by hundreds of millions. Besides, it is always more agreeable to deal with a first-class diplomatist. Let me look at the draft."
Count Moranoff handed over the document. The Vizier read it slowly. The terms were fairly comprehensive. Behind his curtain Rivers breathed hard at their audacity, and his blood tingled at the thought that it rested with him to checkmate this daring move. The statesmen discoursed frankly, and there was no disguise of the object in view. India was eventually to be attacked by Russia, who was prepared to pay for facilities granted. The north-eastern province of Persia was a necessary factor of the scheme, and a railway was to be commenced at once from Astrabad to Meshed. But the most striking part of the plan was the acquisition by Russia of a port in the Persian Gulf. The Isle of Kishm was to be ceded to her. The only discussion between the two statesmen was with regard to the Island of Ashurada in the Caspian. The Vizier demanded its evacuation by Russia in partial payment for Kishm, but more particularly as a sop to the Persian people. After much demur this was finally agreed to by Moranoff, in addition to the annuity of two million roubles granted to the Shah.
The Vizier folded up the document.
"My secretary shall transcribe this to-morrow," he said, "and we can sign after our return from Windsor. Strange, is it not," he soliloquised, "that our former negotiations came to a head when the English Mission brought the Garter, and our new one is to be consummated while we are in the act of returning the compliment? These English are fated to be hoodwinked."
"When men such as you and I get together, my dear Vizier——" began the Russian sententiously. Then he stopped short, for the door had suddenly opened.
The Persian turned angrily, and then rose to his feet as a tall, richly-dressed man entered. It was the Prince Ali Azim.
"Vizier," said the Prince abruptly, "whom have you here? Your physician?"
The Vizier's face had assumed a bland smile, and instinctively he endeavoured to cover the treaty. But the Prince saw the movement.
"Why hide the prescription, Vizier?" he said.