“It’s all very well, my dear,” she said to Cecil, “but I shouldn’t wonder if this riot came in very opportunely for the Pasha. Here he has the chance of getting rid at once of Azim Bey, who is so unpopular, and whose very existence drives the Arabs to quarrel, and of the Balio Bey, who is always giving him good advice. Ah, you may laugh, but did you ever know any one to like the person who gave him good advice? Ahmed Khémi Pasha hates Sir Dugald because he knows that if he had done as he advised all along this would not have happened, and what could be a neater way of revenging himself than to let the mob have time to break in and massacre us all? He could punish them afterwards, and so escape all blame.”
“But what would he do if Azim Bey were killed?” asked Cecil, with a feeble smile, caused by Lady Haigh’s ineradicable suspiciousness.
“Do? Why, make it up with Hussein Bey, and so have everything comfortable in the Palace and the city and the whole pashalik, of course,” replied Lady Haigh, promptly.
Cecil was about to remark that in such a case the Pasha would probably find it hard to deal with the Hajar Arabs, who had adopted Azim Bey’s cause so zealously; but Lady Haigh was summoned to the roof at this point by a cry of joy from the Bey himself, who called out that there was a squadron of cavalry advancing from each end of the street into which the Residency gate opened. The two bodies were approaching each other, slowly and determinedly, forcing the sullen mob before them as they came. The men who had been squabbling over the battering-ram seemed all at once to determine to unite against this new foe, and turned to oppose them, whereupon a scene began which made Lady Haigh retreat down the stairs into the court in horror, but which caused Azim Bey to clap his hands and shout. The soldiers, with their heavy sabres, mowed down the mob as they advanced, until the few who were left broke their ranks and did their best to shrink close to the walls on either side and slip past the horses. The orders of the troops were evidently to secure the safety of the Residency and its inhabitants first, and to leave the punishment of the insurgents until afterwards, for when once the way was clear they allowed the survivors to escape if they could.
Azim Bey had been cheering on the soldiers from his coign of vantage on the house-top, but he was the first to descend, and was ready to meet them when the gate was opened. His fear and his anger and his excitement had now alike passed away, and he was his usual courteous, grown-up little self, thanking Sir Dugald for his hospitality and protection, and Captain Rossiter and the Sepoys for their timely aid. Notwithstanding his affability, however, he displayed great anxiety to get back to the Palace, and would not hear of allowing Cecil to remain at the Residency even for the night, in spite of Lady Haigh’s declaring that she would not permit her to leave it. It was obviously impossible for her to mount a donkey, and Charlie was firm on this point, although, remembering his encounter with Azim Bey, he kept in the background as much as he could, for fear of getting Cecil into trouble with her pupil and his father. Baghdad could produce a few carriages, but the streets were far too rough and narrow to admit of their use. At last an antiquated litter, borne by two mules, was procured from the Palace, and Cecil was helped into it and made comfortable with cushions. Then the gold-embroidered curtains were drawn, and the procession started, Azim Bey riding in front of the litter on a horse lent by Sir Dugald, while the soldiers formed an escort on either side.
“Do you know, Cousin Elma,” said Charlie, as the party at the Residency lingered on the verandah after dinner to discuss the exciting events of the day, “I fancy”—he lowered his voice as he glanced across at Sir Dugald and Captain Rossiter, who were deep in an argument on the probable effects of the battering-ram if it had been used—“I can’t help thinking that that small boy has taken it into his head to be jealous.”
“It’s quite possible, Charlie. My youngest brother was frantically jealous when I was engaged, though you mayn’t believe it.”
“But that was quite different. He had something to take hold of; but really I can’t think what that little wretch has seen—until to-day, at any rate.”
“Charlie, Charlie,” said Lady Haigh, in her most maternal tone, “let me give you one piece of advice. You are perfectly at liberty to think yourself a fool if you like, but never let yourself imagine that Azim Bey is one. If he ever permits you to think so, that will only show how well he is fooling you.”
Charlie had leisure to think over this unpalatable remark in the days that followed, for he and Cecil did not meet again for some time. Cecil’s foot was very painful, and the pain, combined with the shock of that eventful day, brought on another attack of fever, which spread mingled anxiety and hope among the European colony at Baghdad. The authorities at the French Consulate rejoiced in anticipation of Cecil’s final removal from the scene, and were prepared with a candidate of unexceptionable qualifications to supply her place. The Austrian representative, while preserving an appearance of decorous sympathy, had his eye on an elderly relative of his own who had occupied a position in a princely family, and was well suited, both by character and training, to tread the tortuous paths of domestic diplomacy. A casual remark dropped by the French Consul in Azim Bey’s hearing enlightened him as to the intrigues that were maturing, and the speculations that were abroad as to the issue of his dear mademoiselle’s illness, and threw him into a pitiable state. He passed his time in alternate fits of wild despair and petulant anger, which so affected his father that he sent for his own physician, who was attending the patient, and ordered him, on pain of death, to effect her recovery—a command which was received by the hapless man of medicine with an impassive “If God pleases, it shall be as my lord wills.” Lady Haigh also was untiring in her care. She came to see Cecil every day, and often sat with her for hours, only to meet, when she left the Palace, the reproaches of Charlie, who invariably accompanied her to the gate, and tried warning, entreaty, and menace in vain to induce her to take him in with her.