“I hope not. At any rate, for argument’s sake, we’ll take it that they don’t. Of course my dodge will be to get them to delay the attack by insisting beforehand on an impossible proportion of loot. While their messengers and Bahram Khan’s are going to and fro, Anstruther, knowing the ground, ought to be able to bring up the column. When I see his signal, the tribes will hasten to make graceful concessions, and Bahram Khan will order the attack. While he is occupied at the front, a few of the tribesmen and I will make a dash for the Amir, and the column will get its guns into position. Then, if all goes well, a grand transformation scene. The guns plump a shell or two into the advancing ranks, the Sikhs and Goorkhas, and possibly a British regiment, make their appearance on the heights, the tribesmen turn their rifles against their own side, and the Amir shows himself and orders his revolted army to surrender. If they won’t, their blood will be upon their own heads, as they’ll soon see, but I think only Bahram Khan and a few irreconcilables will refuse.” “And you?” demanded the Colonel. “Your programme doesn’t provide for your being killed a dozen times over, does it? What will Mrs North say when she hears what you think of doing?” “She will tell me to go. The tribes are as much her people as mine--more so, indeed. I am going to tell her now.” He clambered down the ruined staircase, found Fitz and told him briefly what he wanted of him, and then went to Georgia’s room, where he set himself to catch her with guile--a process which, as he ought to have known, had not the faintest chance of success. “Do you remember the last time I went away, Georgie?” he asked, as he sat down beside her. Georgie looked up at him with a thrill of alarm. “Do you think I could ever forget it, Dick? Not if I lived for hundreds of years.” “We almost quarrelled, didn’t we? You were in the right, of course--I knew it all along, but I had to go. You don’t like me to go out treaty-breaking, do you?” “No.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “But it’s all right if I go treaty-making, isn’t it? just to get the tribes to feel what fools they’ve been, and make them see reason?” “Oh, Dick, must you go? so soon? and you have been away so long!” “You jump at things so suddenly,” lamented Dick. “I wanted to break it gently to you.” “My dear stupid boy, do you think I don’t know your way of breaking things gently yet?” “Well, anyhow, you’ll let me go, won’t you? without making a fuss, I mean?” “A fuss! Do I ever make a fuss?” “Oh, you know what I mean--without making me feel a brute for doing it?” “You know I would never keep you back from what was really your duty.” “That’s all right, then,” Dick failed to notice the distinction thus delicately implied. “And I’m going to try and save all your father’s work from being ruined, so it must be my duty, mustn’t it?” “I suppose so. And I am forbidden to make a fuss?”