“But you can’t very well ask them that--whether they take you for Rustam come to life again--lest they should say they never thought of comparing you to any one of the kind,” said Ferrers. The tone, rather than the words, was offensive, but Major Keeling ignored it. “But they do think something of the sort, I believe,” he said. “At least, when I was present at a tribal _jirgah_ the other day, an old Malik from a distance remarked that as he had not seen me before, it would be very consoling to him if I would give a slight exhibition of my powers. He would not ask for anything elaborate--if I would just breathe fire for a minute or two, or something of that kind, it would be enough. I told him I wasn’t a mountebank, and the rest hustled and scolded him into silence. But after that very meeting another old fellow, who had been most forward in nudging the first one, and had looked tremendously knowing as he told him that fire-breathing was not a custom of the English, got hold of me alone, and whispered, ‘You won’t forget, Highness, that on the night of which I may not speak you promised I should ride at your right hand when the time comes?’ Without thinking, I said, ‘If the night is not to be spoken of, why do you speak of it?’ and the old fellow stammered, ‘Between you and me, I thought it was no harm, Heaven-born,’ and after that I could get no more out of him. Whatever I asked him, he thought I was trying to test him, and took a pride in keeping his mouth shut.” “It really is most mysterious,” said Lady Haigh, “and might be most embarrassing. Do you think you go about paying visits to Maliks in your sleep, Major Keeling? Because, you see, you might do all sorts of queer things as well.” “I know nothing whatever about it--it is totally inexplicable,” said Major Keeling shortly, rising as he spoke. “I am sorry to break up your party, Lady Haigh, but Captain Ferrers and I have some business together, and he ought to be on the way back to his station before very long.” Seeing that he was not to escape, Ferrers followed the Commandant, and passed a highly unpleasant half-hour in his company. From a scathing rebuke of the criminal carelessness which had led to the late regrettable incident, Major Keeling passed to personalities. “What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked sharply. “You ought to be as hard as nails with the life you lead at Shah Nawaz. But perhaps you don’t lead it. You look like a Bengal writer.” “With this examination in view----” began Ferrers with dignity.