Peace with Honour

by Sydney C. Grier

“Never mind, for I won’t tell you. You are to know nothing. There is your coat, Mr Stratford. Keep Abd-ur-Rahim outside for two minutes, and then let him do his worst.”

Half-reluctant and wholly perplexed, Stratford allowed himself to be gently impelled in the direction of the door, and went out, to find Dick, still on guard, protesting vehemently that he would never allow himself to be searched, and that the first man that laid a finger on him with that purpose in view would have little opportunity for repenting his rashness afterwards. Perceiving at once that his friend guessed he had the treaty upon him, and was endeavouring to divert suspicion to himself, Stratford proceeded, not without a little malicious pleasure in the circumstance, to cut the ground from under Dick’s feet by remarking calmly—

“Keep cool, North; we are prisoners, though we were seized by a mean trick, and we must submit to the treatment our jailers think fit to inflict upon us. Abd-ur-Rahim”—he turned with dignity to his too hospitable host—“we are your prisoners. As to the means by which you induced us to put ourselves in your power I say nothing. Still, I ask you as a gentleman, is this insult necessary?”

“By no means,” returned Abd-ur-Rahim, promptly. “If my lord and his friends will give their word that they have not the treaty about them, they shall not be touched.”

To the utter stupefaction of Dick, Stratford at once gave the required assurance, which was repeated by his friend and Kustendjian. Some demur was made as to accepting the word of the latter, on the ground that he was not an Englishman; but on Stratford’s volunteering the assurance that he was speaking the truth, his statement also was considered satisfactory.

In the meantime, Georgia and her maid were not idle in the inner room. The moment that the door had closed behind Stratford, Georgia flew to the box which contained the collection, and drew out the bottle enshrining the historic snake. The roll of prepared india-rubber from the case of medical stores was the next requisite, and, unfastening it, she made Rahah cut off a piece a little longer than the treaty in its rolled-up form, and wide enough to wrap round it twice. When the roll had been made as tight and smooth as possible, she tied up the ends very securely.

“Now, Rahah, take off the bladder from the top of that bottle as carefully as you can. Don’t break it, whatever you do. Now get the cork out. Dig it out with the point of the scissors if it won’t come easily; we mustn’t use a cork-screw. Turn your head away if you don’t like the smell. There,—what a good thing that the spirit has sunk a little!” She dropped the roll containing the treaty into the great bottle, in the midst of the coils of the snake, replaced the cork, tied the bladder over it again, and, holding the bottle up, looked at it critically. The effect was perfect. The dull-brown of the india-rubber wrapping combined with the bolder tones of the serpent’s skin and the unpleasant yellow of the spirit so completely, that scarcely a trace of the intruder was perceptible even to her practised eye.

The effect was perfect.

“So far, so good. Now on with our burkas, Rahah. That’s right, put the bottle back into the box. There is a smell of the spirit about. Knock over that bottle of camphor and break it. Oh, they are coming! Kneel down, Rahah, and be nailing the cover on the box in a most tremendous hurry.”