“And I represent her Britannic Majesty. I regret that the ‘deal’ to which you have referred cannot come off.”
“Then your Mission will be a failure, General.”
“Pardon me, but that is no concern of yours.”
“Well, you are the first man I ever knew bring a wife and daughter into a place like this on such an almighty poor chance. I don’t know what you think, gentlemen”—Mr Hicks wheeled round in his chair and glanced at the rest of the party—“but I say—and I know something about this place—that you have a precious small hope of getting out of Kubbet-ul-Haj with your lives if your Mission does fail.”
“You really must excuse my staff from commenting on your interesting piece of information, Mr Hicks,” said Sir Dugald, smoothly; “but they are not accustomed to be set up as a court of appeal over me.”
“May I ask, General, whether you know why Fath-ud-Din, the Grand Vizier, did not ride out to welcome you to-day?”
“I believe he was ill,” said Sir Dugald, stifling a yawn.
“He was so sick that he was riding past my house to the bath at the moment you were entering the city on the other side.”
“I don’t quite see,” said Dick, “why a piece of bad manners on Fath-ud-Din’s part should be such a fearful omen for us.”
“I guess you think yourself dreadful smart, Colonel,” returned Mr Hicks; “but you soldier officers are a bit too cute sometimes. Old Fath-ud-Din is a bad crowd generally, and he means mischief. Leaving him out of account, what do you think has happened to your friend the Crown Prince, Rustam Khan? Has he dropped in on you here yet?”