“They are the devils which obeyed the English doctor who was carried off by Shaitan from his house at Kubbet-ul-Haj!” was the murmur which went round. “There are plenty more in the box,” said Georgia, cheerfully. “You can unpack them for yourselves if you would like to look at them; only I would advise you for your own sakes to take care not to break the bottles.” “Is it true that if the bottles were opened the devils would get loose?” asked one of the Ethiopians, in an awful whisper. “It is quite true that if the bottles are opened what is in them will come out,” responded Georgia, setting down on the box the two she had been holding; “but you shall see for yourselves what will happen.” She lifted the bottle containing the frog, as though to hurl it in the direction of the visitors, but Abd-ur-Rahim interposed hastily in much agitation. “Let my lord entreat the doctor lady to let the evil things remain where they are,” he said to Stratford. “Surely he must know that I have but obeyed the commands I have received, and that I have done my best to save him and his company from all annoyance. Moreover, though the doctor lady should destroy these men and myself by her magic, my soldiers outside would certainly set the palace on fire, and burn her and all my lord’s company, when they found out what had happened. Suffer her not, then, to work us evil, and we will but ask her a few questions and depart.” With a face of the utmost gravity, Stratford translated the entreaty, and the questions which followed it, to Georgia, who was much impressed by the opinion entertained by Abd-ur-Rahim as to her powers and her willingness to use them. “Has the doctor lady the treaty concealed about her, or has her maid got it?” “Certainly not.” “Is it in any of those boxes?” “No, it is not in any of them.” “Is it hidden anywhere in the floor or the walls?” “Nowhere in the floor or the walls.” “Does the doctor lady know where it is?” “I refuse to say.” “Who can trust the words of a woman?” asked one of the officers, rudely. “The doctor lady has it hidden.” “Tell them that I am St George Keeling’s daughter, Mr Stratford,” cried Georgia, angrily, guessing the drift of the remark from the tone, “and ask them whether it is likely that I should tell a lie?” Stratford translated the words, and the name produced an impression which showed that the fame of the Warden of the Marches had spread beyond his own border. “In my youth,” said Abd-ur-Rahim, “I have faced Sinjāj Kīlin in peace and war, and I know well that no son or daughter of his house could be a liar.” Georgia’s wrath calmed down, and Rahah, feeling that she was responsible for maintaining the honour of the house of Keeling, suppressed the falsehood which rose to her lips when she was asked whether she knew where the treaty was, and imitated her mistress in declining to say.