“What sort of time have you had with the boy?” asked the doctor of Stratford and Dick, who were accompanying him across the court on his way to his own quarters. “Oh, not bad, under the circumstances,” returned Dick. “We set Anstruther down to teach him halma by signs, and Miss Keeling gave us a little music--that is to say, she did her best to sing to the strains of Kustendjian’s concertina. I never heard any one play so vilely as that fellow in all my life, but the boy seemed impressed. Afterwards we sat in a ring and tried to talk, with Kustendjian to interpret, and all got most fearfully sleepy. But how did you get on?” “Well, I don’t quite know,” replied the doctor, somewhat reluctantly. “I have an uncomfortable kind of feeling, and yet I can’t be sure that it is justified. But I will tell you about the events of the evening, and then you can judge for yourselves whether the matter is of any importance.” “Oh, go on!” said Dick and Stratford together. “Don’t keep us on the rack.” “Well, as soon as I got to the house I was taken to see old Fath-ud-Din. It’s pretty clear to me that he has a tolerably severe attack of influenza, but he thought he was dying--or at any rate, he groaned as if he did. I prescribed the usual remedies, and gave various directions as to things which I thought might relieve him. He sent the servants out of the room to get hot flannels and the other things I had ordered, and then turned to me. I was pouring out the medicine, which I had fortunately been able to make up from the drugs I had brought with me, and I went to give it to him. As I held the glass to his lips, he fixed me with his eye and said in Arabic, ‘A doctor has many opportunities.’ It was such a truism that I merely agreed, and he went on, ‘He holds in his hand the life of the man to whose help he is called.’ I thought he was afraid that I might be trying to poison him, and I said, ‘If your Excellency doubts me, I will sip the medicine myself first.’ At that he grinned in what he seemed to consider as a friendly and ingratiating manner, and said, ‘You mistake me. I trust you. So also does the Queen of England’s Envoy trust you, and our lord the King trusts his physician.’ I didn’t quite see the relevance of the remark, so I cut matters short by requesting him to take his medicine. He sat up and balanced the glass in his hand, and said, looking at me over the edge of it: ‘Doubtless you are acquainted with poisons which could be administered in a little draught like this, and do their work without causing suspicion?’ I didn’t at all like the turn the conversation was taking, but I told him shortly that I did know of such poisons, and he said at once, ‘There are great fortunes to be made by men who possess such knowledge as that, and who are willing to use it.’ I was partly flustered and partly angry, for I could not make out whether he was still harping on the idea of my poisoning him, or hinting at bribing