“It’s possible. I have always thought him a fine fellow, and the injured rather than the injurer, but if he is hoping to secure the Turban by favour of the General—— Tell me what you mean, Mrs Ambrose.”
“Why,” said Eveleen, rather flattered, “I wondered mightn’t he have got Gul Ali to resign the Turban by telling him his life was in danger from the General? The old man is silly enough to believe it. Then when the General says he will be coming to call, Shahbaz humbugs the old creature with some tale that he’ll take him away prisoner. Do you see, it’s his interest that the two of them wouldn’t meet? So the old man gets away—his brother making things easy for him—and the General thinks worse of Gul Ali than ever, but only scolds Shahbaz for not keeping better guard over him.”
“You have it! That’s it, I’m convinced, Mrs Ambrose! Shahbaz is a villain, who is abusing the General’s confidence shockingly. Poor old Gul Ali has been shamefully treated. As for the General, he must be blind not to see the whole thing is a hum—but knowing no Persian, of course—— Well, I am tenfold thankful I came to you. A lady’s insight will often penetrate where our obtuser minds are at fault. But now to try and put this wrong right. A dash into the desert after the General—he must be stopped at any cost in his head long course——”
“I wonder wouldn’t you find that a little difficult?” suggested Eveleen. “When Sir Harry has made up his mind—and after thinking things over so long——”
“Ah, I see you are afraid I may speak too warmly! Nay, you need have no fear. I have not a word of blame for him. The fault lies with the delays which kept me from his side when he summoned me, and forced him, as he no doubt believes, to this rash attempt. But his is a noble mind. Few men, confronted with such a situation, would have realised themselves incompetent to deal with it, and called back to their councils the person they had superseded. Believe me, he shall know the honour I feel for him. Sir Henry’s march stopped, then—and Heaven grant it may be before there’s any loss of life!—I must return hither at once, and make all speed to Qadirabad. If I can arrive before the Khans, outraged by the General’s high-handed proceedings, have given orders for a universal muster and the extermination of the British, all will be well. I am their friend, and they recognise me as such. Continually, as I came up the river, messengers have intercepted me, bearing greetings from their Highnesses, and entreaties to come ashore. But I refused to land, even at the capital, merely sending a letter of apology to the durbar, pleading the necessity of consulting with the General before I could wait upon them. But now”—he was walking up and down, speaking in short hurried sentences—“I will go to them, and I humbly trust, take peace with me. They know me and trust me, and I go to them in complete confidence.”
“It’s quite safe, would you say?” demanded Eveleen, a stupendous idea seizing her.
“Absolutely. Why not? I assure you you need have no fear for me, though I know your kind heart.” He smiled at her.
“But I have not. Tell me now, you would take Mrs Bayard with you if she was here?”
“Undoubtedly.” Colonel Bayard’s voice was valiant.
“Then would you take me?”