“I think of it continually,” said Stratford; “but none of us here could hope to leave the city without being recognised, and if they mean to cut us off from communication with Khemistan, it would be certain death to the man who ventured to start, while we should be as badly off as ever.”
“Still, we can’t spend the term of our natural lives shut up here,” began Lady Haigh, emphatically; but Dick interrupted her.
“I’ll go,” he said, promptly; “it’s just the sort of thing I like. I have nothing to keep me here, and nothing to do. I am positively yearning for a job. I’ll start to-night.”
“Gently,” said Stratford. “We must figure out a plan of campaign first. But if any one could get through, North, you could, to judge by your Rahmat-Ullah performance; and Fath-ud-Din’s language to-day was really so unpleasantly threatening, that I think it is time for us to make tracks.”
“Did he go so far as to threaten you?” asked Lady Haigh.
“There certainly seemed to be a distinct suggestion of menace in his words, and that not merely the old bugbear of the Scythian envoy. But of course it may be all bounce. Hullo! I wonder I didn’t murder this little animal.” He stooped and lifted the white kitten, which had made a sudden dash at his boot from an ambush near at hand. “Why aren’t you with your mistress, Colleen Bawn? I thought you always stuck to her.”
“Oh, Miss Keeling can’t take her to the Palace,” said Lady Haigh, with a nervous little laugh. “It wouldn’t look professional, you know.”
“Miss Keeling gone to the Palace!” Stratford’s eye sought Dick’s, but met no answering glance. “Why should she have gone there just now? I thought the operation was over.”
“Oh, the Queen sent a message to beg her to come, and she was afraid something must have gone wrong, so she hurried off. You don’t think there is any reason why she should have refused, do you?”
“I don’t know. It seems absurd, but I feel more at ease when we are all safe inside these walls. I can’t think how it is that we didn’t hear Miss Keeling start.”