The Persian seemed puzzled but smiled indulgently and glanced toward his attendants. Instantly a big Baluch rode forward and grasped Allison by his collar, thrusting him back into the crowd.
The procession moved on, the honored Persian again bowing to right and left and wholly indifferent to the cries the American sent after him. When the last pack animal had passed, Allison’s guard released him; but the engineer followed with dogged steps until the caravan had reached the iron gateway and passed through without halting, the noisy rabble shouting enthusiastic farewells as it disappeared. Then silent and thoughtful, Allison returned to the house.
“Without doubt I have been mistaken,” he mused; “and yet it seems strange that the world should contain two men whose features are identically the same—and both of them physicians, too. In New York Osborne passed for an East Indian, and this man is a Persian. If they were the same surely he would have recognized me, if only to curse me as he did at home in the old days.”
He found Janet not only recovered but laughing gaily at what she called her “foolish weakness.” Somehow it jarred upon Allison to hear his melancholy sister laughing, to note the sparkle in her eyes and the flush that for the first time in years mantled her fair cheeks. He had no difficulty in accounting for all this, yet when she cast an eager, enquiring look at her brother he took a certain satisfaction in answering it with a scowl and a shake of his head.
“I followed him,” said he, “and managed to speak to him. We were both mistaken, Janet. It is a stranger—some notable the people seem to know well, and call by the name of Merad.”
“Merad?”
“Yes. He has started upon a journey across the plains—returning to his home, I think.”
To his surprise Janet smiled and began twisting up her disordered hair.
“Very well, dear,” she answered, carelessly, and as if dismissing the subject from her mind as unimportant she turned to renew her conversation with Bessie.
Suddenly a scuffle was heard in the passage.