“We think we are pretty slick in fixing things out West,” he said, “but they have by no means a bad notion of history-making out here. When it was arranged that your Mission should start, General, Rustam Khan was in high favour with his father, old Fath-ud-Din was biting his nails in disgrace, and the people were all in love with the English. But we have had a Palace revolution since then. The King’s second wife (she is Fath-ud-Din’s sister, and they all hang together) gave her husband one of her slave-girls, the prettiest she could pick up anywhere, and that brought her into high favour, and all her relations with her. She is young Antar Khan’s mother, and he is prime favourite now, while Rustam Khan and his mother, the King’s first wife, are nowhere. Curious what little things bring about these big changes, isn’t it?” “The details of these Palace scandals are scarcely edifying,” remarked Sir Dugald, to whom Mr Hicks had all along been addressing himself. “Probably not, General; but they are often important, and there is an outside circumstance that complicates this one. From your point of view it was slightly unfortunate that an envoy should turn up a week or two ago with presents and offers of alliance from Scythia and Neustria. I guess those two States are hunting in couples. It’s not the first time they’ve done it, and they generally make a good thing out of it. Does this alter your way of looking at things at all, General?” “Not at all,” returned Sir Dugald, placidly. “Now come, General,” said Mr Hicks, leaning forward and extending a long forefinger to tap Sir Dugald on the knee, “you and I are both white men. We understand each other. I can put you up to circumventing this Scythian cuss if you will only show an accommodating spirit.” “Really,” said Sir Dugald, “I am deeply obliged; but until her Majesty is pleased to appoint me a colleague I have an invincible objection to sharing my duties with any one. I cannot sufficiently admire your disinterested and public-spirited offer of co-operation, Mr Hicks, but this prejudice of mine--foolish and incomprehensible as it must no doubt appear to you--prevents my accepting it.” “Think of your reputation, General,” urged Mr Hicks, sadly. “I give you my word I had sooner write the story of a successful mission than an unsuccessful one any day. We newspaper men have a way of finding out things which you diplomatic gentlemen never hear of, and I can help you through with your work and cover you with glory as well. You’ll take it?” “No, thank you,” returned Sir Dugald. “It is all prejudice, of course, but somehow I had rather not.” “There are just a few people left in the world who prefer honour to glory,” cried Georgia her eyes flashing.