"I thought we had prohibited the importation of gold into these regions, chancellor, because of its evil effects upon the minds of the people." "Yes, sir," returned the chancellor. "We decided to abolish its importation altogether on that account, save only as tribute money for the royal chest." "Exactly," replied the bandit, in a tone of assumed moral injury. Then, turning to the Englishman, he said: "You must know, Captain, that most wars are caused by gold, and by the unbrotherly strife which it foments. You must know also that all wars are sustained by it." "Yes, I agree with you for once," returned the prisoner, boldly, wondering at the ease with which this confirmed brigand could turn moralist. "Then what must be done with the gold, sir?" asked the chancellor. "Every ounce of gold on the airship must be confiscated," exclaimed the king of robbers as he uplifted his hands in pious horror. "Let it be removed at once." "Very well, sir," and this second operation, which was more pleasing still to the waiting Arabs, was immediately put into effect. "Item three!" called out the chief. "Ten boxes of valuables, including the personal property and belongings of one of the passengers," came the reply. "What, do they belong to one person?" "Yes, sir." "What is his name?" "The Maharajah of Bangapore, sir," returned the wise man of the exchequer, whose task promised to be an easy one in the future, judging by the vast amount of spoil which had already fallen into his lap. "The Maharajah of Bangapore?" repeated the monarch, raising his hand to his forehead for an instant, as though he would recall some long forgotten episode. "Is he amongst the company present?" "I believe so." "Ask him to stand forth." And the Indian prince, hearing his name called in English, stepped forth and confronted his old enemy of the Mesopotamian campaign. When their eyes met a flash of fire, more eloquent than words, revealed what was in each man’s mind. The prince expected to be tortured to death and was prepared for it, for, like all his people, he was brave as well as fierce. At last the robber spoke. "Prince Jaipur, you are an enemy of mine," he said. "I know it!" "Do you expect mercy after the way your tribesmen massacred my men at Kerbela?" The maharajah shrugged his shoulders, but disdained to reply to this upstart robber chief who styled himself a king. "Do you know that your life is in my hands?" exclaimed the bandit fiercely. "I am not afraid of anything you can do, brigand!" hissed the prince, and his voice sounded not unlike the angry, venomous snake in the jungle. Another man might have quailed before those glaring eyes and those hissing tones. But the German quavered not. "I will give you a kingly choice," he said, "as you are the scion of half a hundred kings in your illustrious line." "I ask no favours of a common Bedouin robber," snarled the other.