“We must trust that the King will prove to be less bloodthirsty than his ministers,” he answered. “I am not without hopes of making him listen to reason. Still, one must prepare for the worst, of course. North, if you will come with me to the office a minute, I will give you the keys and the seal, and just put you in the way of things a little.”
Dick followed him in silence; but when they had entered the office he shut the door and put his back against it.
“Look here, Stratford,” he said, “you have got to let me go. It is my right, I tell you. I—I love her.”
“Of course you do,” returned Stratford. “I have seen that for some time. That is why I am glad that you will be left to look after her. You will have your work cut out for you if you are to get back to Khemistan after this——”
“Stratford,” said Dick earnestly, “listen to me. This is my business, and it is very unfriendly of you, though you mean well, to try to take it from me. I intend to go.”
“Excuse me,” said Stratford, “but it is my business too. No, I am not hinting at cutting you out, old man—I couldn’t do it if I would. My reason for going is totally unconnected with Miss Keeling, except in so far as her danger has brought things to a climax. I am not going to sign Fath-ud-Din’s treaty; but neither do I intend to be killed if I can help it. I shall take our treaty with me, and if I leave the Palace alive I shall bring that treaty out with me, signed. You will observe that it is not for Miss Keeling that I am risking my life, but simply on a matter of business. I stake my life against the treaty, and if I keep the one I gain the other. Of course, if I fail I lose both. Now do you see it?”
“But I could look after the treaty just the same,” urged Dick.
“No, you couldn’t. You are not a diplomatist, North; you are a soldier, and tact is not exactly your strong point. I know that you could die like a hero; but you don’t shine in statecraft, and I am anxious that no dying shall be necessary, if that is possible. You understand? It is a matter of personal moment to me to get this treaty signed, and I ask you, as a favour, to waive your claim to sacrifice yourself for Miss Keeling.”
“Oh, hang it all!” burst forth Dick. “When you put it in that way, Stratford, what can a man do but make a fool of himself, and let you go? It’s my right, and you take away from me my only chance of showing her that I would die for her, though I can’t manage to please her. But we have rubbed through a good deal together, you and I—oh, there, you can go.”
“Thanks, old man; I thought I knew your sort. That’s settled, then. By the bye, if they should put an end to me it is just possible that they might have some one there capable of imitating my writing. They must have seen my signature on notes and things of that kind. Well, if I sign any treaty you will find the words run into one another, so that the Egerton is joined to the Stratford. That is the test of genuineness, do you see?”