“That is good,” answered Maie, thoughtfully. “But it is not enough.”
Agahr threw out his palms with an impulsive gesture.
“What would you have?” he asked, impatiently. “I have suborned every servant in the palace; I have followed every plan you have suggested; intrigue and cunning each moment battle for our great object.”
“Yet the Persian sits beside Burah Khan and baffles our every plot,” replied the girl. “I will go to him myself, my father.”
“You! Impossible.”
“No one shall ever know but yourself, and you will guard my secret. But see the Persian I must. Despite his pretended loyalty he is a mere man—and surely there is a way to influence any man that lives.”
An hour later Agahr secretly introduced Maie into the palace, and while he himself guarded the passage leading to the chamber of Burah the girl boldly pushed aside the draperies at the entrance and confronted the physician.
The Persian was standing beside the couch as she entered, and after a glance at his visitor he quietly drew a silken coverlet over the still form and advanced to where the girl stood awaiting him.
“I am the daughter of the vizier,” she said, softly.
“You are welcome,” declared the Persian; but he passed one hand over his forehead as he spoke, and his voice sounded weary and discouraged.