“No, indeed. I will take no one into danger with me. Thank you, Anstruther,” as Fitz reappeared with a large brass-mounted pistol. “I will load it simply with powder, I think. It will be less dangerous if it should happen to go off in my coat-pocket. There! How does that look?” “It sticks out a good deal,” said Fitz, surveying the coat critically. “Any one could see that you had a pistol in that pocket.” “That is exactly the impression I wish to produce. One thing more you can do for me, Anstruther. Just rummage among the stores, and see whether you can find any description of food that has a good deal of nourishment in very small compass.” Fitz departed again, and presently Lady Haigh returned with the little revolver, which Stratford loaded carefully and slipped up his left coat-sleeve. Dick and Kustendjian watched him curiously and with respect. It was evident that he had some plan in his head, but neither of them could divine what it was. A minute or two later Fitz came up the steps with a box of meat lozenges in his hand, and presented it to him. “Will these do, Mr Stratford?” he asked. “They were the smallest things I could find. There were tinned soups, of course, and chocolate; but I thought these would have more nourishment in them.” “Quite right,” said Stratford; “they are the very thing. Is that the treaty, Mr Kustendjian? I think my preparations are complete, then. You will say good-bye to the Chief for me when he is better, Lady Haigh?” “Must you go?” whispered Lady Haigh, hoarsely, as she held his hand. “I must,” he said. “If I should escape, Sir Dugald’s work will have been completed. You will like to remember that.” “I shall ride to the Palace with you,” said Dick, as they went down the steps. “It will be just as well, for you will be able to escort Miss Keeling back. It would be a pity for them to keep her in their hands after all.” Another interruption met them as they emerged from the archway into the outer court. Waiting for them there, with his hand lifted to the salute, was old Ismail Bakhsh the gatekeeper, a former trooper of the Khemistan Horse, the celebrated force to which Dick was attached, and which had been raised in the first instance by Georgia’s father, General Keeling. “Will my lord tell his servant,” he asked Stratford, “whether it is true what they are saying among the servant-people, that my lord goes to the Palace to give his life for the doctor lady’s?” “It is true,” answered Stratford. “Let my lord listen to his servant, for it is not fitting that my lord should accept death for the sake of one who has no claim on him. I served for ten years under Sinjāj Kīlin the general, and I will go in my lord’s place, because I have eaten of Sinjāj Kīlin’s salt, and it is not right that his daughter should come to shame or harm while Ismail Bakhsh lives.” “Your loyalty to your old general is only what I should have expected from you, Ismail Bakhsh, but the King demands my presence, and not another’s.”