"Shookr, Shookr, Habeeb!" (Thanks, thanks!), said the Kótwal at length. "Hast thou any news, friend?"
What was the barber to say? News? yes, plenty! There was no lack of that, such as his master relished; but would it be welcome?
"There was a grand entertainment at the Nawab Alla-ool-Moolk's last night, and some new singers from the Carnatic were there. My lord should hear one of them. She is very lovely," he replied cautiously.
"Except the blessed Mary, and Fáthma, and Ayésha—on whose names be peace!—I wish all women were in the burning pit," said Jehándar Beg savagely, and his hand approached his beard.
"Khóda na khasta bashud!" (God forbid!), exclaimed Habeeb, staying it. "God forbid my lord should touch what has been done! Even in that exclamation a hundred hairs have started up. May his slave ask what has discomposed the fountain of justice this morning?"
"There was some one ill in the palace last night, and a Fakeer was sent for, who shouted 'Ulla dilâyâ to léonga,' Who was that man? and who was ill?" asked Jehándar Beg, not heeding the question.
"My lord, no one was ill that I know of. About the Fakeer I will ascertain, if possible," replied the barber. "I can tell my lord one thing, however: the Shah—may his splendour increase—went out, even as the Khaleefa, of honoured memory, of whom we read—Haroun bin-al Rasheed—was in the habit of doing, to see after his subjects for himself, to hear with his own ears; and, if people say the truth, there is enough for him to hear, if he chose to inquire."
The men understood each other perfectly, and exchanged glances.
"People will talk, friend," said the Kótwal; "but where did he go? if thou'rt sure he went."
"Nay, that is more than your poor slave knows. They say he took the young Fazil Khan with him, or else the Wuzeer's son. Sure he went? yes, my lord, quite sure," said the man, emphatically. "I was in the citadel, and saw him go out."