“Shake, Count!” said Mr Hicks; “you’re a white man, sir. And if it would make you any happier, you may bet your last red cent I would go so far as to put on a Court suit for the occasion, if you had one here and offered it me.” With this magnanimous surrender on Mr Hicks’s part, the conversation ended, and on the morrow it appeared that he was highly dissatisfied with the meagreness of the preparation it was possible to make for his visit to the Queen. His travel-worn clothes and the helmet in which he had ridden out of Damascus were the objects of much anxious care, and he went so far as to offer to part with his cherished beard, if Cyril thought well, but the sacrifice was gratefully declined. Little time was allowed for personal decoration, since the prisoners had scarcely finished breakfast when the sheikh made his appearance, his demeanour betokening a vast increase of respect, to the extent even of sending a messenger in advance, to ask whether the Prince of the Jews would receive him. On entering, he bowed to the ground before Cyril. “O my lord, the Princess desires thee and thy servants to come to her. ‘Where are my friends?’ she says. ‘Bring them here, that I may make with them the treaty that they desire.’ O my lord, how is this? It has never been the pleasure of the Princess heretofore that any stranger should approach her.” “What did I tell you?” asked Cyril, through Mr Hicks. “Didn’t I say that the Princess would receive me and enter into a treaty?” “O my lord, thy words sounded in the ears of thy servant as foolishness, but they have indeed proved true. My lord will speak favourably of his servant before the Princess?” “By all means,” said Cyril pleasantly, as the sheikh drew back to allow him to pass out of the cave. Once outside, the whole party mounted their horses, and rode up the hill-path in state, escorted by the tribesmen, who discharged their guns at intervals to do honour to the mighty stranger. Arrived at the gate, where the Armenian servants were drawn up in line to receive the visitors, the sheikh alone entered with his guests. Just as the gate was closing, Mansfield uttered an exclamation. “There are two men on camels riding across the desert from the direction of Damascus!” he cried. “They are kicking up a tremendous cloud of dust, so they must be coming fast.” “It is doubtless a post bringing letters for the Princess,” said the sheikh; “but I know not why there should be two men. See, the watchman has observed them,” as a shot rang out from the lofty tower on the wall. “Word will be brought at once if there is any ill news.”