“Dick!” Mabel almost screamed. “Dick is to know nothing of this. Georgie, I absolutely forbid you to say a word to him about it. Isn’t it enough for him to be always casting up against me what happened the other day, without having this to bother me about as well?”
“You must have a horribly guilty conscience, Mab. I’m sure Dick has never said a word to you about the other day.”
“No, but he has looked it, again and again. And I will not have him told about this absurd fancy of poor jealous Zeynab’s. You couldn’t be so dishonourable, Georgie, as to tell your husband another person’s secret against her will.”
“I can’t tell him if you forbid it, but I wish you would let me. Very likely it is some plot of Jehanara’s to make the poor little wife miserable, but it may have some political bearing, and I think he ought to know. Do let me tell him, Mab.”
“No, you’re not to. I shall never have the smallest confidence in you again if you do. It can’t concern Dick or anybody but myself, and the only reason I told you was that you might use your influence with the women to make them see how silly the idea was. If you tell any one else about it, we shan’t be friends any more.”
Some four days later Georgia was returning home from afternoon tea at the Grahams’. She had left Mabel behind her to comfort Flora, whose fiancé had returned to his duties at Fort Shah Nawaz, and Dick had ridden across the frontier to settle a tribal dispute, and would not be back till late. Georgia felt tired and depressed, and visions of the couch in her own room, and the latest magazines that had reached Alibad, floated enticingly before her. As she drove up to the house, however, she caught a glimpse of a camel kneeling down to its meal, a heap of fodder piled on a piece of rough cloth, in the stable-yard. One of the high hooded saddles used by native women of distinction lay near it, and two or three strange men were gossiping with the servants. The inference was obvious, and Georgia felt no surprise when her maid Rahah met her with the announcement that the Eye-of-the-Begum was waiting to see her. Mysterious as the words sounded, they referred only to the confidential attendant of the Moti-ul-Nissa, and the old woman was very soon established on the floor of Georgia’s room. The curtain over the door, which served as a danger-signal on these occasions, was drawn, and Rahah stationed outside it to warn Dick not to intrude when he returned, and the visitor was therefore able to lay aside her veil and make herself at home. As for Georgia, she had learnt by experience that however little a native might have to tell, he or she invariably displayed a misdirected ingenuity in lengthening out the telling of it, and she resigned herself to the loss of the quiet time she had anticipated, and made the customary polite inquiries with every sign of cordial interest. When these had been answered, and the Eye-of-the-Begum had duly asked after Mabel’s health, and (in modest periphrases), after that of Dick, and delivered her mistress’s salaams and good wishes to Georgia, paying a compliment in passing to her hostess’s coffee and sweets, she prepared at last to approach the subject of business, but strictly in her own fashion.
“Many years ago, O doctor lady,” she began, “a troop of robbers met a man leading a fine horse richly caparisoned. ‘O brother, who art thou?’ asked they. ‘I am So-and-so, the servant of Such-an-one, and I am taking this horse to my master’s son as a gift from his uncle,’ he replied. Then they seized and carried off the horse, and beat the man, but let him go. But verily it was his fate to be unfortunate that day, for he fell in with a second troop of robbers, who also asked him who he was. ‘Truly,’ said he, ‘I am So-and-so, the servant of Such-an-one, and I carry to my master’s son as a gift from his father a gold chain which is concealed in my turban.’ Now before this they had intended to kill him, but finding the chain, they took it and his clothes, and bade him make haste to depart. Hiding by day and travelling by night, he accomplished the rest of his journey, and presented himself before his master’s son, who, seeing a footsore man wearing only a ragged loincloth, asked him in astonishment who he was. ‘Verily,’ he said, ‘I am So-and-so, the servant of Such-an-one, and I bring to my master’s son the gift that his mother has sent him.’ And thus saying, he took from his armpit the great pearl which is nowadays called the Mountain of Milk, which is among the treasures of the Amirs of Nalapur, having carried it safely through the country of the robbers. Then his master’s son commanded that a robe of honour should be put upon him, and gave him a horse and arms.”
“He thoroughly deserved them,” said Georgia.
“True, O doctor lady. But thy servant is now as that messenger was. Here is my horse with the rich trappings,” she held out an empty liniment bottle. “The pains which were banished by the medicine from my mistress’s limbs have now returned, and she desires more of it. But of the gold chain concealed in the turban there is much to say, and even more of the great pearl hidden in the armpit, wherefore, O doctor lady, be wary lest there be any that can hear us.”
Georgia rose obediently, and looked outside the windows, under the bed, and into the wardrobe. Having made it clear that there were no eavesdroppers about, she returned to her visitor.