“Do you know,” she said eagerly, without giving him time to speak, “I am beginning to believe that Dick is really alive. Georgia is so absolutely convinced he isn’t dead, and I can’t think she is altogether mistaken. Is there no way of finding out?”
“You don’t mean by making inquiries, surely? The Amir certainly believes he is dead, and Bahram Khan chooses us to think that he does too, so we should get no good out of them.”
“Yes, I quite see that, but what I have been thinking is that some one to whom he had been kind may have hidden him away—in a house in the mountains, or one of the camps of the wandering tribes—and he may be lying there ill all this time.”
“I only wish he might, but in that case I’m afraid it would simply be his death-warrant if we found out where he was. Bahram Khan would still be between us and him, you see.”
“Yes, but there’s another chance still. Suppose he is in Bahram Khan’s hands, after all, but too badly wounded to be moved? Bahram Khan would know that he could not make use of him without showing him, and that he would be no good to him dead. So what if he is keeping him prisoner just with that in view—to produce him when he gets better, and offer to give him up if we surrender the fort? Yes, the more I think it over, the more I feel certain that it must be that.”
“And what then?” asked Fitz, as she paused eagerly.
“Why then, don’t you see, if we once knew that he was a prisoner, and where he was kept, a force could go out and rescue him, as they did the guns. There isn’t a man that would not volunteer, and then he would be saved.”
“But how are we to find out whether he is a prisoner?”
“Oh, surely you must know! Don’t pretend to be so stupid. Some one must go and see—dress up as a native, and get into the enemy’s camp.”
He laughed. “Curiously enough, the Colonel was talking of something of the kind this very morning. He wants to know whether there is really a rumour among the enemy about a relieving force.”