Then a white flag was run up to the top of a flagstaff on one of the minarets of the palace, a similar one was hoisted by the Russian air-ship, and she rose towards the _Ithuriel_. Alan, feeling now sure that the flag of truce would be respected for the Sultan’s sake, allowed the ship to come stern on to the _Ithuriel_ until the two were within speaking distance. As she approached, the Russian swung her stern guns out laterally, and Alan did the same with his, so that for the time being neither ship could injure the other. The stern doors were then opened, and the Russian captain delivered a message to the effect that the Sultan had just risen for morning prayers, and would receive the captain of the _Ithuriel_ in half an hour. The Aerian vessel could therefore descend without fear. “There is no question of fear,” replied Alan shortly. “I have not come alone. Use your glasses and you will see that the city is surrounded, but we shall respect the truce if you do.” The Russian stepped back with a hurried gesture and seized his glasses. It was now quite light enough for him to see at that elevation a wide circle of points of flashing blue light reflected from the hulls of the Aerian fleet. He put down his glasses and replied-- “So I see! You would not have got here if patrols had been sent out as I advised.” “Or else your patrols would not have come back,” said Alan, turning on his heel and walking forward. Half an hour later the white flag on the minaret was dipped three times as an invitation for the _Ithuriel_ to descend, and Alan, determined to guard against any possible treachery on the part of the Russian scout-ship, signalled to it to precede him, and so the two vessels sank down and alighted almost together on the roof of the palace. The Sultan surrounded by his ministers was awaiting them, and as soon as salutes had been exchanged Alan handed him the ultimatum of the Council. As Khalid read the brief but pregnant message his brows contracted, and an angry flush showed through the bronze of his skin. He read it twice over, stroking his beard slowly and deliberately as he did so. Then he looked up and said to Alan in a tone from which he made no effort to banish the accents of anger-- “Was not my word enough? Have I not promised that I would make no war for a year? By what right do you order me to compel my friend and ally to leave my city within two hours?” At the word “ally” Alan’s face assumed an expression of wrathful sternness, and he replied-- “By the right which has always governed the issues of war--the power to compel obedience.” “To compel!” cried the Sultan, in a still angrier tone. “What! with one air-ship against twenty? Not even a Prince of the Air could do that.”