“I could forgive Sir Henry everything,” cried Colonel Bayard vigorously, roused by the name, “but his treatment of Gul Ali. To affect to hold the poor old man to a renunciation extorted from him by force by that villain Shahbaz Khan is an outrage of which I had fancied him incapable.”
“But sure he did resign the Turban to Shahbaz!” said Eveleen in perplexity.
“True—most solemnly,” agreed her husband. “But when he quitted Shahbaz’s hospitable roof, he saw fit to change his mind, and declare the renunciation a farce.”
“And no wonder!” cried Colonel Bayard warmly. “When it was only brought about by the pressure imposed on him by that most abandoned scoundrel——”
“We have often agreed that Shahbaz was the ablest of the Khans,” said Richard imperturbably. “You said to me once you saw no hope for the dynasty but in him.”
“True, but he had not then shown himself in his real—his most iniquitous colours. To force his innocent and venerable brother to cede him the Turban by threats——”
“His innocent and venerable brother having failed to rob him of his heirship by intrigues——” crisply.
“Ambrose, you are hopeless!” cried Colonel Bayard warmly. “The General has bewitched you. Mrs Ambrose, in your gentle breast I know I shall touch a chord of sympathy with the aged Prince’s misfortunes. Listen, I beg of you. I was riding with the advanced guard from Bidi—where I caught up the force—when we met a solitary cossid mounted on a camel. He recognised me, and dismounting, threw himself at my feet, and bewailed the miserable lot of his master. With the General’s permission I volunteered to seek out my old friend, and convey to him the assurances of safety and kind treatment from Sir Henry, which it occurred to me Shahbaz Khan must have kept back. You had said to me that you suspected something of the sort, ma’am; do you remember? Well, I found Gul Ali encamped in the jungle—a few wretched rowties [small common tents] sheltering the few retainers who remained faithful to him. Our appearance—your brother accompanied me, by the way—produced at first the utmost consternation, the fugitives fearing an attack. But my name restored confidence, and the Prince met and embraced me, and conducted me into his miserable dwelling. Old and sick, exposed to the heavy rains—this was the plight of the man I had last seen enthroned in his palace. Briefly he unfolded to me his brother’s perfidy. As I expected, Shahbaz had induced him to abdicate by the strongest assurances of Sir Henry’s hostile disposition towards him. I pledged him my honour that he was mistaken, and he would fain have accompanied me there and then to make his submission. But I knew he would find Shahbaz with the General, and fearing his timidity might betray him once more, I persuaded him to send his son—not Karimdâd, of course, but one of the younger ones—and a nephew instead.”
“That was the mistake!” said Richard sharply. “Had he but met the General face to face——”
“Easy enough to see where another man has gone wrong.” Colonel Bayard spoke with some displeasure. “Well, ma’am, sherbet was served, and we parted with the usual compliments. My one aim was to lead the young Khans to Sir Henry before they could be intimidated by Shahbaz. Alas! it did not occur to me that he might corrupt them instead, though when we met him he embraced them cordially, and begged a visit after their audience. I took them to Sir Henry’s tent, where we all sat on the carpet together, since there were no chairs. The General, who had met the youths very civilly, addressed them kindly, but with severity—through his Munshi, not through me—nor did he make the slightest show of consulting me. Seeing me thus set aside, and reading in his decided tone that he regarded them as rebels, is it any wonder the young Khans were seized with alarm? They left his presence—I suggested to him to show his goodwill by shaking hands with ’em, which he did very readily—to seek Shahbaz, and I grieve to say they were persuaded by that villainous plotter to betray their aged parent into his hands. They saw Shahbaz enjoying Sir Henry’s favour and possessing all the tokens of power, and in return for his bribes they fell in with his designs. I despatched a spy to Gul Ali’s camp to mark their return there, for I feared all was not well, and it was as I feared. They insisted upon the General’s angry tone and the curtness of the terms he had used, and declared it as his command that Gul Ali should surrender himself again to Shahbaz at Bidi. Asked what part I, their friend, had taken in the interview, they replied that even were I sincere in my professions—of which they hinted a doubt—it was clear I was devoid of any power to help. Do you wonder that the unfortunate old man feared to offer the personal submission for which Sir Henry had stipulated? Once again he made his escape—and so unremitting is Shahbaz in his villainy that he even succeeded in bribing his brother’s Munshi to substitute a defiant message under his seal for the letter he had despatched in excuse for his non-appearance. Sir Henry was highly irritated, and lent an ear all the more readily to the poisonous suggestions of Shahbaz. With a view of clinching matters, he replied to the letter with a direct refusal to communicate further with Gul Ali unless he gave effect to his forced renunciation by recognising his brother as Chief Khan.”