“Yes,” put in Georgia, for the conversation was taking place on the terrace, “it would not do us much good personally even to get the treaty signed, when we were reduced to a ration of three tinned peas and a square inch of chocolate each a day.” “Don’t be afraid, Miss Keeling,” said Stratford. “I think I can assure you that we men will each add one pea and an appreciable fraction of the chocolate to your ration and Lady Haigh’s.” “And we shall hand it back to you, remarking gracefully that you need it more than we do,” said Georgia. “By the bye,” said Jahan Beg, “I think I can help you about provisions a little. I can get a small supply of corn through the lanes at the back without attracting the notice of the soldiers, and you can draw up the sacks through the window. I will bring you a donkey-load to-morrow night, and another the next night, if all is well.” In spite of the watch kept on the house, Jahan Beg was as good as his word, and succeeded in supplying the beleaguered garrison, in the course of the next three nights, with enough corn to relieve them from any present fear of starvation. In other respects, however, the situation showed no improvement. Once more a deputation from the Palace arrived to propose terms of peace, and departed as before without seeing Sir Dugald. But this time the official who headed it declared as he departed that no more messages of conciliation would be sent by the King. After this, if the British Mission desired to abandon its attitude of suspicion, and meet the Ethiopian Government on a footing of mutual confidence, it must make the first move. The soldiers at the gateway had been ordered to allow Sir Dugald to pass at any hour of the day or night, either with or without his staff, and to escort him to the Palace with due honour. But no advantage was taken of this intimation, and inside the Mission councils were held daily as to the measures to be adopted in case the state of affairs should remain unchanged. Sir Dugald had decided to send a messenger to Fort Rahmat-Ullah asking for instructions, and Jahan Beg had chosen one of his servants, a man who was devoted to him and who knew the country well, for the dangerous errand. As soon as arrangements had been made for a supply of horses along the route to be traversed, this man was to come to the Mission to receive Sir Dugald’s despatches, which were to be sewn up in his clothes, and the imprisoned residents began to regard the state of affairs with somewhat greater equanimity, since the burden of decision in the dilemma in which they found themselves would be laid upon other shoulders than their own.