But when the message was delivered, Mr Crayne’s face hardened. It was from Sir Dugald, to the effect that the Sheikh-ul-Jabal desired an audience of the Commissioner, and it would be well to receive him in the durbar-hall with the formalities due to his rank. “So he means to brazen it out!” said Mr Crayne. “Well, see to it, Hazeldean. I don’t know what good it can do, though.” The secretary descended the steps in a great hurry to beat up the Commissioner’s escort, and Mr Crayne followed more slowly. Lady Haigh and Penelope moved to the inside of the rampart, and awaited feverishly the appearance of Sir Dugald and his companion. At last they came, and riding up to the steps of the durbar-room, dismounted. “You see, Elma?” whispered Penelope triumphantly. “Look at the dogs!” was Lady Haigh’s only answer. Two terriers had rushed tumultuously from the Haighs’ verandah opposite, and were barking and jumping round Sir Dugald. One of them was his own dog, the other belonged to Major Keeling, who had left it at the fort lest the Sheikh-ul-Jabal should be offended if it approached the sacred precincts of Sheikhgarh. Even now the Sheikh withdrew himself ostentatiously from the demonstrations of the unclean animals, and as Sir Dugald ordered them to be quiet they sniffed suspiciously round the stranger at a respectful distance. “Pen, an idea! I’ll send a _chit_ down to the Major’s quarters to have Miani brought up here,” cried Lady Haigh. “He will never let a native ride him. It’ll be another proof,” and she called a servant to take the note. Meanwhile Mr Crayne and his little court had received the Sheikh-ul-Jabal with due ceremony, and were now plunged in the most hopeless perplexity. The face before them was Major Keeling’s, but the voice differed very decidedly from his, and the visitor’s gestures and turns of speech served alternately to settle and to disturb their minds. The conversation, which was conducted in proper form through an interpreter, dealt first with the flowery compliments suitable to the occasion, and then with the momentous question of the health of Mr Crayne, the Governor-General, and Sir Henry Lennox on one side, and of the Sheikh and his household on the other. In all this there was nothing to decide the matter at issue. Then the Sheikh remarked that he had long desired to express his gratitude to the Company, which had provided him with an asylum and maintenance, and Mr Crayne seized the opportunity. “And how long have you been the Company’s pensioner?” he asked. “I have eaten the Honourable Company’s salt for ten years, more or less.” “And in all that time you have never presented yourself before the Company’s representatives to express your gratitude?” “It is true. Nevertheless I have served the Company in many ways.” “But why have you never appeared at any of Major Keeling’s durbars?” “By reason of the vow which I swore. If the sun were shining on the earth I should not be here now.”