M. Karalampi knew very well the falsity of the suggestion he offered, but it served his present purpose admirably. Azim Bey was struck dumb. He beat his brains to try and find out why he had fixed upon Charlie as the happy man, for he had certainly never been told that he was; but he could find nothing but that early incursion into the harem, and the little scene he had witnessed at the Residency on the day of the riot, to justify his suspicions. Meanwhile, as M. Karalampi pointed out respectfully, these were only proofs that Dr Egerton was in love with mademoiselle, which no one had ever doubted, while it was undeniable that Captain Rossiter had rushed to her rescue with the utmost eagerness when he heard she was in danger. Azim Bey felt nonplussed. He could only promise that he would do his best to discover the truth--he must be able to do so without much difficulty--and adjure his fellow-conspirator to be in readiness to act the moment he let him know who was to be assailed. They parted, and Azim Bey set himself to his task; but it was more difficult than he had imagined it would be. Cecil’s lips were sealed, at any rate to him, on the subject of her engagement. If he attempted to approach it, she froze instantly, and he could not obtain from her the slightest clue to the mystery, while all his efforts to pump Um Yusuf found her as impenetrable as the grave. It so happened that for a considerable time he met no one who had sufficient interest in or knowledge of the matter to enlighten him. He felt convinced that he could have got the truth out of either Charlie or Captain Rossiter by means of a few questions, but neither of them came in his way, and though he saw Sir Dugald once or twice, the Balio Bey was not the kind of person to approach on such a quest. Much time was consumed in these delays, and winter had passed, and spring was over all the plains, before the boy’s curiosity could be gratified.