“We must pin our faith to the men of Raab,” she replied, between her set teeth. “The Persian is not human—he is a fiend!”
CHAPTER IX
THE SIXTH DAY
Dirrag led his master straight to the royal palace, reaching it just as the first rays of the sun fell upon the city. As he arrived unexpectedly, there was none to receive him except a few sleepy servants and the sirdars of the tribes of Mem and Agot, who shared the watch over the chamber of the khan. These, being loyal to the reigning house, were overjoyed at the speedy and safe return of the messenger, and cast curious glances at his tall companion.
But Dirrag knew where his duty lay and did not linger an instant. He pressed on to the khan’s own chamber, and entered without announcement, followed closely by Ahmed.
The Persian stood by an open window, engaged in rolling a cigarette. He paused, motionless, as he saw Dirrag. His eye lighted with satisfaction, and he drew a sigh of relief.
“Back already!” he said, pleasantly.
“As you see,” answered Dirrag, with pride. “It is the morning of the sixth day, and I have saved twelve hours from my allotted time. And here is Prince Ahmed, the son of Burah Khan, and heir to the Lion of Mekran—safe and sound, although nearly as weary as I am myself.”
A long speech for Dirrag, but warranted by the marvelous ride he had so successfully accomplished.
The Persian seemed not to hear it. He was staring fixedly at the tall form of the Prince.
“You!” he gasped, as if a great surprise overwhelmed him.