Maie threw back her veil and smiled, while the physician, leaning upon the low table that bore the shaded lamp, gazed wonderingly at the beautiful face revealed.
“May I rest myself?” she asked, in her sweet voice, and without awaiting permission she passed between the table and Burah’s couch and sank gracefully upon a low divan.
The Persian hesitated an instant, and cast an uneasy glance at his patient. Then he seated himself beside the table and bowed.
“It is the same old tale, I suppose?” he said, enquiringly. “You do not wish the Khan to live to acknowledge his son?”
The girl gave a little laugh.
“It is very pleasant to find you both frank and comprehensive,” she returned, “for now many useless words may be spared. Tell me, Persian, why you insist upon interfering with our plans to depose the sons of Ugg and restore the throne to the former rulers of Baluchistan? What is it to you, a stranger, whether Burah Khan dies tonight—this very moment—or lives to acknowledge his son two days hence?”
“Only this,” he answered quietly. “I have given my word.”
“Do you fear for your reputation as a skillful physician? Elai! You have already accomplished wonders enough to make you famous. Had you not arrived in Mekran, Burah Khan long since would have passed away.”
“It was a draught of my own invention,” said the man, musingly. “I am anxious to test its powers. If it will hold Death at bay for seven days I shall have solved an important problem in medical science.”
“But why is it necessary to test your draught on the Khan of Baluchistan? There may be thousands of similar cases wherein the matter of life and death is unimportant. Perhaps, in spite of your great fame, you lack money. See!”