“My lady’s servants are charged by the Khanum Effendi to wait upon and watch over her and her nurse,” said the chief, gruffly.
“We are to be prisoners, then?” said Cecil, as Azim Bey shuddered and gripped her hand more tightly.
“That is as my lady pleases,” returned the man. “Within these walls she may do what she likes, but outside there are the Kurds and the worshippers of Shaitan, and the Mutesalim will be returning, who has no fear of the Balio Bey, and therefore the Khanum Effendi, in her care for my lady, considers that it will be well for her not to leave the house.”
“Listen to me, O Aga Mansur,” cried Azim Bey, “and upon thy head be it if thou fail in what I command thee. I leave mademoiselle in thy charge, and if she suffers any hurt, I swear by my father’s beard that thou shalt pay for it.”
“Upon my head be it, O my lord,” was the ceremonious answer. “Will it please my lord now to depart?”
Azim Bey went out with all the dignity he could muster, though the tears were very near his eyes, while the two strange agas took Masûd’s place at the gate and proceeded to arrange their belongings in his room. The door was now shut, and the two captives returned to the lewan to consider the situation.
“The Khanum Effendi want kill us,” said Um Yusuf, angry and alarmed. “You got pistol, mademoiselle? knife? dagger?”
“Only a penknife,” said Cecil, wearily. “What does it signify, Um Yusuf? I don’t believe they mean to kill us, and if they did, a penknife wouldn’t prevent them.”
But Um Yusuf was not to be silenced. She instituted a methodical search for arms, and was successful in discovering two table-knives which had been brought from Baghdad for Cecil’s use. The shape and size of these made them difficult to carry about the person, but she concealed them with great care among the cushions of the divan, and felt happier. At night her fears revived, and she dragged her bed into her mistress’s room, and insisted on closing the window and barricading the door with every movable thing she could find, and this state of siege she maintained with unflagging perseverance. The two agas took no notice, and seemed to feel little interest in anything their prisoners did. If their intentions were evil, they feared Um Yusuf’s precautions too much to put them into execution, and thus days and weeks slipped by without alarm.
To Cecil the time was one of rest, so much needed as to be almost welcome. She made little or no attempt to occupy herself with books or work, but sat on the house-top gazing at the mountains and the sky, and seldom speaking. Um Yusuf became very uneasy about her, fearing this quiet acquiescence in her grief almost more than the feverish excitement of the days before the departure of Azim Bey and the rest. It seemed to her that her mistress needed rousing and taking out of herself, and she honestly did her best to effect this, according to her lights. She encouraged her to sketch, tried in vain to induce her to study, and even gave herself the trouble of fashioning a draught-board and set of men, with the aid of one of the precious table-knives, so that she might invite her to play.