I said it had come to my ears that these men--mentioning their names--had accused my Interpreter of translating falsely; that I had no reason to believe the accusation was true, for I found the accusers unworthy of trust. I then proceeded to explain why; describing the drunkenness of the one and the ignorance of the other; and pointed out their neglect of duty, naming a man of position as witness in each case that I brought forward. I was, fortunately, able to do this, for in two or three surgical operations that I had had to do, when they showed themselves neglectful and incompetent, there had been men of position, military officers, who witnessed the operation. I sent for the secretary of Col. Attaullah Khan, then British agent with the Amîr, who understood English, asked him to translate for me, mentioning in the letter that he had done so, and at once sent the translation in to His Highness. [Sidenote: Amîr’s Sense of Justice.] That night the Amîr sent for the witnesses and examined them. The next morning a messenger arrived with a written order from the Amîr that I was to bring the Armenian before him on the following day; the Hindustanis were to be accompanied by one of their countrymen, or rather a Kashmiri, who spoke English fluently. This man was a civil engineer who had served the Amîr for some eight years--a clever man, well known at the Foreign Office in India.[7] [7] This man has since been executed for treason: he was smothered. I felt some amount of nervous disturbance, wondering what turn the affair might take. I had not been long in the country, and I did not know what were the possibilities of the case. The whole story of the Hindustanis is, in itself, unimportant. What does it matter whether they rebelled against me or not? But it brings forward one trait of the Amîr’s character--his sense of what is fair--and for that reason I have related it. The morning came. The Armenian, with a white face, silently walked with me to the Palace. It was a sunny warm morning, the fruit-trees in the garden were in full bloom, and I remember the scent of the flowers, as we walked along the path. How is it, I wonder, that slight external impressions dwell for ever in one’s memory when the mind is busily turned inwards? The awning was not up, and we took our stand, the Armenian and I, in the sun on the open space opposite the Palace. The two Hindustanis came up looking very yellow, accompanied by the Kashmiri, who was an intelligent looking man, with a dark skin. We waited a few minutes without speaking, and then His Highness with some attendant pages came from the Palace, and took his seat on an arm-chair on the verandah, opposite to us. The natives “salaamed,” I bowed, and His Highness touched his hat in acknowledgment. His Highness then addressed the Kashmiri engineer in Persian. The engineer turned to me, he had my letter in his hand; and he said in a severe manner:--