“True. His Majesty is in that fortunate position.”
“But the son granted to him is young and tender, and there are those who might dispute his claim. How great, then, would be his felicity if the mighty Queen whom my lord serves would acknowledge, by the hand of her servant, the child’s right of succession, and grant him her countenance and the support of her soldiers!”
“I see. Fath-ud-Din stands to gain five thousand pounds, gentlemen,” said Sir Dugald, turning to his staff; “and when the king is removed from the scene, we are to acknowledge Antar Khan as his successor, and back him up with moral and physical force. How does that strike you?”
“It strikes me that the King had better set about making his will,” said Stratford, grimly, “if you accept the terms.”
“That is exactly the impression which the proposal has produced on me,” returned Sir Dugald; “and, as I have no wish to be accessory to a sudden change of ruler in Ethiopia, I think it will be as well to inform Fath-ud-Din that we must decline to do business with him on this footing.”
He folded up the treaty, rising at the same time to show that the interview was ended, and handed back the parchment to the Grand Vizier, who had been observing him in silence.
“Her Majesty’s Government has an objection to interfering in dynastic questions,” said Sir Dugald, pointedly; “and, when it does interest itself in such a matter, it prefers to adopt the cause of the elder son.”
“There are other governments of Europe,” said Fath-ud-Din, with equal meaning, “which are quite willing to take the side of the younger. If the first purchaser will not pay me the price I ask for my sheep, I will take them further and find one who will.”
“I can only admire your Excellency’s keen business qualities,” returned Sir Dugald, as he escorted his visitor to the door. But no sooner was the Vizier’s train outside the gate than the scribe came back in haste, saying that his master had missed a valuable ring, which he must have dropped somewhere in the house. Half suspecting a trap, but yet determined to give no ground for an accusation of lukewarmness, Sir Dugald had the courtyard searched, and the rugs in the Durbar-hall taken up and shaken. But all was in vain until one of the servants, who had removed the tray of coffee which had been brought in out of compliment to the Vizier, came back into the room, and, with a salaam, produced the ring, which he had found at the bottom of Sir Dugald’s cup, and which the scribe seized upon immediately with a cry of triumph.
“Well, I’m glad that turned out all right,” said Dick, when the man had gone off rejoicing. “I was afraid it was a trap, and that they meant to accuse us of stealing the thing. Dim memories began to come over me of a book I read when I was a small boy, in which a virtuous family were imprisoned and tortured and given a bad time generally on account of a false accusation of having stolen a ring, and I must own that I had unpleasant forebodings as to the probable course of justice in Ethiopia.”