"I'm Farish M'Kissock, own brother to old Janet, the housekeeper here. And I was born at Loquhariot, after my father came from Kilmarnock to be head-keeper to the old earl. That's why I call it home, though it's no home of mine.
"I left the last half of my name behind me when I fled the country, long years ago, at the time of Lord St. Just's death. I had a hand in that, although I did not murder him as some said. He had done me a foul wrong, the foulest one man may do another. It cost him his life, but—I did not murder him. That would have been but a poor revenge in my eyes. I would fain he had lived till this day."
"And what do you propose to do now?" Slyne asked, somewhat impatiently. He had evidently got over his first confusion.
The ex-Emir regarded him meditatively for a moment or two, and then broke into a low, mirthless laugh.
"You're going to marry the Lady Josceline Justice," said he, "and you're in a hurry. You've no time to waste on me—or on my memories of old wrongs. Well, I don't blame you. I once had a fancy for her myself, and—I was in just such a hurry; when my wife died in my arms as we carried her out from my camp, to suit your convenience, Captain Dove, and I hadn't even the time to bury my own dead wife decently before I put off to your ship in search of—the other. If I had been in less haste about it, I'd maybe have made better speed.
"But you've managed very well for yourself, so far, Mr. Slyne. Though you've robbed me of one who should have been mine, just as did Torquil St. Just.
"And now—if you'll wait for a minute more—I'll even matters among us; and you'll understand the drift of my story better. You've managed very well for yourself, so far, and you've very nearly won all you wanted. But—here I am, just in time.
"Did it ever come out how the Countess of Jura, the dancer that was, met her death?"
Slyne, listening with strained attention now, nodded swift assent. Captain Dove, crouched low on his perch, was gazing at Farish M'Kissock as if fascinated.
"She shot herself," said the ex-Emir, with the calm certainty of one who can vouch for his facts, "rather than fall into the hands of my men. We had raided a camp of fool tourists who had come too far afield, to find out what the real desert was like, and she was among them. She saw me before she pulled trigger, and knew me, and cried on me to save her child.