“Not that I know of,” he replied. “I’ve been roaming through the streets trying to find some one that can speak English; but they’re all dummies in Mekran, so far as we’re concerned. One fellow I met had a fine black horse—the most glorious Arabian I have seen—and he led it with a rag twisted around its neck. I offered him a whole pocketful of twenty-dollar gold pieces, but, by Jove! he just glanced at the money and shook his head. The American eagle doesn’t seem to be of much account in this neck-of-the-woods.”
“Where is papa?” asked Janet.
“Engaged in writing an official communication to the Khan, I suppose, on the engraved letter-head of the Commission. I believe he has left seven of these already at the royal palace.”
“Don’t they pay any attention to them?” asked Bessie.
“Why should they? No one in this enlightened town can speak or read English, now that Kasam has gone.”
“Where do you suppose Kasam has gone to?”
“Can’t say, I’m sure. Run away with our animals, I guess. I always had a suspicion your lovely prince was no better than a horse-thief.”
“Nonsense!” said Bessie, indignantly. “I’m sure Kasam is not responsible for our present difficulties. It’s that horrid Ahmed Khan, who got the start of Kasam while he was escorting us, and robbed him of his kingdom.”
Allison’s laugh sounded rather disagreeable.
“I can’t understand,” said he, “how any decent American girl can go into raptures over a brown-skinned Oriental, with treacherous eyes and a beastly temper. Kasam’s no better than the rest of his tribe, and as for being khan, I don’t believe he ever had a ghost of a show. The last we saw of him he was being escorted by the khan’s guard to the palace—like a common criminal. Probably he’s been in prison for the last three weeks.”