It is sad to be obliged to confess the humiliating truth, but it was this speech that decided Georgia to embark upon a course so unprofessional that, if it had become known in England, it would have been the duty of her medical confrères to drive her with ignominy from their midst. She made up her mind deliberately to haggle for her fee before she visited the patient.
“Why was it that you gave Fath-ud-Din the poison with which to injure the Envoy?” she asked, suddenly. Khadija looked astonished at the unexpected change of subject.
“Nay, O my lady, is it not the duty of a servant to do her master’s will?”
“You are not in the position of an ordinary servant to Fath-ud-Din—you are more of an adviser and helper. Why did you make it easy for him to poison a man who had done you no wrong?”
“I hate the English,” responded the old woman, sullenly. “They came and burnt my village because our men had raided into Khemistan, and my husband and my elder son were killed.”
“And now you are obliged to rely upon an Englishwoman to help you to avoid the wrath of Fath-ud-Din? Hear me, Khadija—I will come to Bir-ul-Malikat and do my utmost to cure Zeynab, but only on one condition.”
“And that is, O doctor lady——?”
“That you give me the antidote for the poison you call the Father of sleep, and tell me how to apply it. If I find you have deceived me, Fath-ud-Din shall know everything; but if the Envoy recovers, all will be well.”
“O my lady, she will poison you as soon as you have cured the girl,” put in Rahah, in a frightened whisper.
“I think not,” said Georgia. “Tell her that before I leave this house I shall write out an account of the circumstances, to be sent immediately to Fath-ud-Din in case anything should happen to me.”