"I do not explain my intentions to Viziers," replied the young man haughtily. "You understand me, I hope. Here is your treaty." He tossed the document on the table and left.
The Vizier threw himself on a sofa, and groaned aloud. He lay there long—so long that Rivers, behind the curtain, was stiff and weary. And there was the Vizier, now apparently dozing at intervals—perhaps going to make a night of it.
Suddenly he rose, took the draft of the treaty, went to the despatch boxes, and placed it in one of them. His body intervened between Rivers' view of them, but the watcher followed his movements as best he could. Then the Vizier turned to the door, and clicked out the light as he passed through.
Rivers stretched himself, but he did not venture to stir from behind the curtain for some time. At length he stepped out, turned on his portable electric light, crossed the room, and stood before the despatch boxes.
There were three, all exactly alike. One held the insignia of the Lion and the Sun. That was—yes, that was the bottom one. The treaty was in the middle one. The top one was unimportant. Rivers lifted out the middle one, and essayed to open it with his keys, but in vain. Then he tried the bottom one—that containing the Persian Order—but with no better success. The box would have to be forced open elsewhere. Yet he dare not carry it across the hall. Other means had to be found for getting it out of the room, and the way had occurred to him as he stood behind the curtain.
One box he might pass safely through this instrumentality, but only one. Two would court defeat. Which box was he to take—the one that held the Order of the Lion and the Sun, the object of all his scheming, or the other, in which lay the treaty?
Rivers' mind had taken its resolve at the instant he had seen the draft placed therein. Since Moranoff had appeared, he had lost all immediate interest in the Burglars' Club. Whether he became a member or not was of little moment, but it was a matter of national importance that the Foreign Secretary should see the draft of the treaty. The Earl of Ancoats was hard to convince of anyone's dishonesty. His own honour was so untarnished that he refused to believe less of others. He had declined to take hints about the former treaty between Russia and Persia, and now, with the Shah's Mission at his door, he would probably refuse to believe that this was but another blind, covering a further and bolder intrigue. Lord Ancoats must see the treaty.
Rivers took the middle box across to the window, then drew up the blind and waited. The red-coated sentry passed. Could he manage it before the soldier was round again?
Ah! here was his chance.