“There certainly seemed to be a distinct suggestion of menace in his words, and that not merely the old bugbear of the Scythian envoy. But of course it may be all bounce. Hullo! I wonder I didn’t murder this little animal.” He stooped and lifted the white kitten, which had made a sudden dash at his boot from an ambush near at hand. “Why aren’t you with your mistress, Colleen Bawn? I thought you always stuck to her.” “Oh, Miss Keeling can’t take her to the Palace,” said Lady Haigh, with a nervous little laugh. “It wouldn’t look professional, you know.” “Miss Keeling gone to the Palace!” Stratford’s eye sought Dick’s, but met no answering glance. “Why should she have gone there just now? I thought the operation was over.” “Oh, the Queen sent a message to beg her to come, and she was afraid something must have gone wrong, so she hurried off. You don’t think there is any reason why she should have refused, do you?” “I don’t know. It seems absurd, but I feel more at ease when we are all safe inside these walls. I can’t think how it is that we didn’t hear Miss Keeling start.” “Oh, the escort did not come into the court, because Ismail Bakhsh would not open the gate, and we could not tell you she was going, for the servants said you were not to be interrupted.” “That was Fath-ud-Din’s doing. It looks very fishy altogether. I hope it’s not a trap. I suppose there’s no possibility of stopping her now before she gets to the Palace?” “Dear me, no!” said Lady Haigh, with conviction. “She ought to be on her way back by this time. No; it’s quite clear that we can do nothing.” “Except await events,” said Stratford, drearily; and Lady Haigh remembered that she had left Sir Dugald alone for a long time, and returned to his side not much comforted. In the meantime, Georgia had reached the Palace without mishap, and, on sending a message by one of the slaves, was welcomed at the door of the harem by Nur Jahan. To her dismay, she found the girl in deep mourning. She wore no jewels, her hair was unbraided, her dress was coarse and squalid, and her feet bare. “What is the matter, Nur Jahan?” asked Georgia, anxiously. “Has anything gone wrong with the Queen or Rustam Khan, or is it your baby?” “It is my father,” said Nur Jahan, in a hurried whisper, so low that Rahah was obliged to come quite close in order to translate what she said. “O doctor lady, hast thou not heard? He was seized eleven days ago, and thrown into prison, by order of our lord the King.” “But he is not dead?” “God knows,” said Nur Jahan. “It may even be that, but we have not heard it. We know not where he is, nor what has befallen him since he was taken away.”