“And yet our coming to Kubbet-ul-Haj has not brought good fortune to ourselves,” said Georgia, sadly. “One of our party has been murdered, and the Envoy himself lies like one dead----” “And a husband has been found for thee,” murmured the irrepressible Nur Jahan. “I see you won’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t count that a misfortune,” said Georgia. “I am not joking, Nur Jahan. I need help very much, and I think that some of you can give it me, but it is in quite a different matter.” “Speak, O doctor lady,” said the Queen, “and may the blindness thou hast taken from me rest on any that refuse to help thee.” “You were speaking the other day,” said Georgia, “of some old woman who was supposed to help Fath-ud-Din by poisoning his enemies. Is this known to be true, or is it merely common talk?” “It is quite true,” replied the Queen, “that several of Fath-ud-Din’s enemies have died in agonising torments which no physician could alleviate. One expired in torturing thirst, with such pains as those experience who have lost their way in the desert and can find no water.” Georgia nodded quickly. “Another died of hunger, which tormented him with its pangs, while he could swallow nothing to alleviate them. Yet another went mad, and rushing through the city, cast himself headlong from the walls; and of one the wives and children died one after the other, until, broken down by misery, he died also.” “Tell me,” said Georgia, eagerly, “has any one whom Fath-ud-Din hated ever fallen into a sleep so heavy that he could not be awakened, in which he remained for weeks and yet lived?” The ladies turned and looked at one another. “It is the Father of sleep!” were the words that passed between them. “You know something about it?” cried Georgia. “We _know_ nothing, O doctor lady,” said Nur Jahan; “but we have heard much concerning a certain drug of this wicked woman’s. Others of her poisons are drawn, men say, from strange plants of distant lands; but this is taken from a fish which is found upon a certain island of the southern seas, and whose scales and bones and flesh, so they say, have been all filled with poison by wicked enchantments, and they call it the Father of sleep.” “Then have you ever known an instance when it was used?” asked Georgia, filled with eager anticipation. “I have, O doctor lady,” said one of the Queen’s confidential slaves, “and I will tell thee of it if my mistress will suffer me to speak freely.” “Speak,” said the Queen. “Have not I commanded all my household to assist the doctor lady in every way?”