“But if the son arrives before his father’s death?”
It was the doctor who asked this question.
“Then we revolt—I believe that is the plan—and drive every member of the tribe of Ugg from Mekran. But my cousin Ahmed cannot arrive before the seventh day, which is the day after tomorrow, and, according to my uncle Agahr, who is clever at intrigue, it will not be possible for Burah’s son to arrive at all.”
“Why not?” demanded the Colonel.
“Assassination, I suppose,” suggested the doctor.
Kasam shrugged his shoulders.
“I do not ask my Uncle Agahr to explain these things. Ahmed is not to be assassinated, however; he promised me that. Otherwise, it matters little what prevents him from reaching his father’s death-bed.”
“What a splendid man that barbarian is!” whispered Bessie to Janet. The latter turned slowly in her seat and gave a start of surprise, for Ahmed rode just behind her. The look in the calm grey eyes seemed to thrill the girl strangely, for she swayed in her saddle and might have fallen had not the “barbarian” thrust out a strong arm and steadied her.
“What are you doing here?” cried Kasam, angrily, in the native Baluch. “Back to the rear, my man, where you belong!”
Ahmed bowed gravely and retreated to where Dirrag rode. Nor did he again venture near the front.