“Whom dost thou seek?” demanded Khadija.
“Thy son, Yakub, that he may remain here until the doctor lady has returned in peace.”
“It is well,” returned the old woman, after a scarcely perceptible pause. “Why should I fear for my son, since I mean well to the doctor lady? Let him come, and welcome.”
“Then I will ride with thee to Bir-ul-Malikat, and receive the young man before the doctor lady arrives there,” said Abd-ur-Rahim, determined to leave no opening for the evasion of his conditions.
Khadija gave an angry snort, but to demur would have been to cast a doubt on the honesty of her own intentions, and she submitted to the inevitable. Abd-ur-Rahim departed to order the horses to be got ready, and Georgia went to say good-bye to Lady Haigh, and to give her last directions respecting the treatment of Sir Dugald. Fitz received a parting injunction to take care of Colleen Bawn, and was further honoured by having Dick’s sword committed to his keeping. Georgia would have liked to take it with her, but it was rather an unmanageable piece of luggage, and she gave it into his charge with no little reluctance.
There was still another parting to be undergone, for as the three women passed through the front portion of the house and reached the steep path which led down into the courtyard, Ismail Bakhsh came to meet them, with his hand on the shoulder of his son Ibrahim.
“O my lady,” he said to Georgia, “thy servant would entreat thy forgiveness for his words of an hour ago. It was not for him to order thy doings, but he would fain serve thee still, for thy father’s sake. He is old, and cannot now fight as he did once, but let my lady permit his son to take his place, and guard her in her journey and in her sojourn in the strange house.”
“O my lady, let him come,” whispered Rahah, and Georgia assented to the old man’s request. Ibrahim was not likely to be of much service as a guard, but he might contrive to escape with the antidote if she and Rahah were prevented from leaving when they wished.
“It is well,” said Ismail Bakhsh. “Guard well the doctor lady, O my son, for thy father ate her father’s bread for many years. Count thine own life nothing in comparison with the life of Sinjāj Kīlin’s daughter, and it shall please thy father well, whatever issue it may please God to send to this matter.”
“What says the old fool about Sinjāj Kīlin?” demanded Khadija, catching the name.