“The messengers say he had heard a rumour that you intended seizing him, General,” said Richard.
“That’s the Ethiopian affair rising up again to plague us! But I am not going to have it perpetually thrown in my teeth. Write to the fellow, Ambrose, that I am no traitor, as he evidently is, and that if I wanted to seize him, I could and would come and pull him out of Qadirabad itself. Send it at once.”
The effect of the message was instantaneous. Apparently Gul Ali felt the garden where he was encamped less secure even than Qadirabad. He, his son and his army, evacuated their camp during the night, and the next day were out of reach in the desert.
CHAPTER XI.
DEEDS, NOT WORDS.
It seemed that Gul Ali’s ignominious flight had served to stimulate in his brother Shahbaz Khan the amiable instinct to profit by his disgrace, for very shortly afterwards he also arrived on the bank of the river, and sent to request the honour of beholding the General’s face. Sir Harry appointed as meeting-place the garden where Gul Ali had failed to present himself, and crossed the river attended only by two aides-de-camp and Richard Ambrose as interpreter. To the remonstrances of those who urged that Shahbaz was as likely as his brother to attempt treachery, he replied calmly that he liked Shahbaz—he was a sportsman, by far the best of the Khans—and declined precautions. Yet he left Brian behind, lest Mrs Ambrose should be robbed of husband and brother in one day; and Brian, panting to show his mettle, spent the time in trying to make Eveleen nervous by devising plans for a rescue. Nervous Eveleen declined to be—it was not in her where any daylight danger was concerned; but she was quite as ready to be excited as Brian himself, and firmly determined to make part of any expedition that might set out. But the day passed quietly. No boat struggled across with a piteous demand for succour, and nothing in the nature of commotion on the opposite bank rewarded the watchers who had posted themselves with glasses on the highest towers of the old fort, resolved to be the first to report calamity, even if they could not avert it. Precisely at the appointed time, the General’s boat was seen returning, and a sigh of relief went up—possibly tinged slightly with regret on the part of the prophets of evil.
“Shahbaz Khan is a precious fine fellow!” declared Sir Harry in high good humour, to those who had ridden to the landing-stage to meet him—Eveleen and Brian among them; “and he shall have the Turban, or Hal Lennox will know the reason why.”
“Did he give you a good reception, Sir Harry?” asked Eveleen, rather unnecessarily, as it occurred to her the moment after.
“Tiptop. Troops drawn up to receive us—everything most correct. Double pavilion pitched—into the inner room of which Shahbaz and I retire after the formal compliments, with Ambrose to interpret. Shahbaz declared honour of receiving me as his guest is quite enough, but if I have no objection he would be glad to know where he stands. He has cut himself off from the other Khans by declaring himself our friend, and they are encouraging Gul Ali to oust him from the succession. Would he have to suffer for his loyalty to us? Of course there was only one answer to that. ‘I care nothing for this Turban nonsense, but you are the rightful heir, and so long as you remain loyal, the Governor-General will protect you in your rights.’ He was uncommonly pleased at that, and said to Ambrose that he could have vindicated his rights by himself, but our backing would make his task much easier. A fine chap, a fine chap! worth ten of that old sot Gul Ali. It’s a pleasure to find a fellow of his kind to support.”
“Then will you be dethroning Gul Ali?”
“Not as long as he behaves himself. But there’s talk again of his resigning in favour of his son, who has no right to succeed until Shahbaz has had his turn.”