I should have known better than so to speak, when he was inclined to be pathetic. But absurd as it may seem, I was jealous of Dariel's own mother, when quoted against her.
"Alas, that is more than I can tell," he replied without heeding my flippancy. "I only know that it was pitiful, pitiful, something to make all who heard of it shudder. Prince Imar was a most cheerful man, full of life and spirit, even in the thick of blows and danger, when I had the honour of being his guest. Not a sign of jealousy about him, introducing all friends to his lovely wife,—which is not the custom with the Moslem tribes, of course,—pleased that a comrade should share her sweet smile, and proud that she should be admired. And as for her, I believe she adored him. Insignificant as I was, I believe that she preferred me to many grander people, simply because I was never tired of singing his praises, and because I owed my life to him. They cannot have quarrelled, at least I should have thought so; neither can she have betrayed him. One never can be certain, where a woman is concerned; otherwise I should have thought it utterly impossible. And yet what else is there that can at all account for it? She perished most sadly, there is no doubt of that. And I dare not even mention the subject before him. Even Dariel knows not a word about it."
I could well understand that a man's most intimate friend would shrink from such a subject, and Nickols was not at all likely to be very intimate with Sûr Imar, though he might have proved a valuable agent.
"Was there any Dariel in those days?" I enquired, though I might have concluded from her age that there was not.
"No, there was not any Dariel yet. But there was a fine little chap, about a year old, and how well he could run! I have had him on my lap, many a time. What was his name? Oh, Origen. Those people save their friends a world of trouble by being contented with one name. But now I have told you all I know, Mr. Cranleigh, or all that can be of importance. And of course you will not speak about it to any one. Every one has a right to his own privacy, and our friend insists upon a private life. He might have been the lion of a season if he had liked, with his romantic history and noble appearance. Ah, yes, ah, yes! but I fear I must hurry you, or ask you to call again. We hold a meeting at 3 o'clock, of a Syndicate they call it—horrible word—about a big find in South Africa. In return for my information, I beg you to let me know if anything is threatened down there; and to do your utmost, if you have any influence, to keep them from returning to the Caucasus. He has plenty of money. Why can't he stop here, and have the sweet Dariel introduced at Court? There is a very great man indeed who would be only too proud to manage it."
"Plague them all!" I cried, as he began to fidget, "how many more great men, I wonder? But did you ever get those emeralds?" The "plenty of money" made me think of this.
"Never saw one of them. Never got so far. And what could I do, when my friend was killed? Very likely they are there though. I shall look them up some day, perhaps, if I can hear of that Russian officer. But most likely not worth finding. Pale emeralds fetch very little. Good-bye, good-bye! Don't forget one thing. Have the dogs chained up, for fear of the police making holes in them."
"Oh, you are not afraid of the dogs making holes in the police?" I said, while shaking hands with him. "I should be sorry to have to fight Kuban and Orla, with a police-staff."
"So should I. But you may depend upon it, when they make a raid of that sort, expecting a big capture, and stout resistance, they will not come down without fire-arms."