“The moral of which is,” said Sir Dugald, “that we are by no means out of the wood yet, but rather deeper in it than before, if possible. If Rustam Khan is afraid to be seen speaking to us, or even to show the friendly feeling the occasion might seem to demand, it looks to my mind as though he knew that he had been accused to his father of plotting with us to deprive him of the throne, and wished to assert his innocence.”
“It strikes one that such a very pointed change of manner would be calculated to awaken suspicion rather than to lull it,” said Stratford—“though, of course, Rustam Khan must be the best judge of that. But we are singularly destitute of information to-day. Even Hicks would be better than no one.”
“Mr Hicks came here after you had started,” said Kustendjian, who had been left in charge of the Mission during the funeral. “He would have wished to attend the ceremony at the grave, but he had only just heard what had happened, since all the morning he was suffering from a fit of indigestion, induced by the dishes at the Vizier’s dinner last night.”
“Well, it’s evident that he was not poisoned,” said Dick, “for Fath-ud-Din would have done his work more effectually, for one thing; and again, I know that I have invariably had the same experience myself after a big native dinner in India or Khemistan. But he seems to be no better provided with news than we are. I wonder what has become of Jahan Beg.”
“That is just the question that has occurred to me,” said Sir Dugald. “It is possible that his house is watched, and that he does not dare to come here. But I hope his silence may mean merely that he has found a good opportunity for sending off his messenger, and that he did not wait for despatches or further directions from me, but packed him off at once.”
“But supposing you hear, in the course of the next two or three weeks, that the force you want is awaiting your orders at Fort Rahmat-Ullah, what action do you propose to take, sir?” asked Dick.
“Simply to inform the King that I am about to withdraw the Mission. If he will send troops to escort us to the frontier, as he did when we came, it will be all right; but, if not, I shall order a sufficient force to march to our assistance. It would not be a military expedition, of course—merely a baggage-train with an armed escort—but the King could not refuse it passage without open war. That would necessitate his throwing himself into the arms of Scythia, which he is very shy of doing; and it is my impression that when he discovers we have the help we need at no great distance, he will change his mind, sign the treaty, and allow us to take back to Khemistan peace with honour.”
“But he would naturally begin a war, if he did decide upon one, by wiping out the Mission,” suggested Dick, “or he might provide us with an escort which had instructions to murder us all on the way. It would come to pretty much the same thing in either case, so far as we were concerned.”
“Risks of that kind one must take in the course of business,” said Sir Dugald. “We can’t very well remain permanently at Kubbet-ul-Haj on our present footing, but we will do our best to avoid playing the part of victims in another Kurd-Cabul disaster.”
“Do you think they will make any further attempts to induce us to accept their treaty, Sir Dugald?” asked Stratford.