“now, girls, i want you to tell me what we’re going to do,” said aunt lucy, looking over her spectacles at janet and bessie, while her needle continued to ply in a jerky fashion. “your father, janet moore, says he is waiting here in mekran to get an audience with the high jumboree of this forsaken country about that nonsensical railroad; and your father, bessie warner, says we are staying here because we can’t get away. now, i want to know what it all means.”
they were sitting in the cool and spacious upper chamber of a square white house which had been mysteriously placed at the disposal of the americans the evening of their arrival in mekran. it was comfortably furnished, with no less than a dozen native servants to wait upon them, their meals being bountiful and prepared with exact regularity. but no one about them had any knowledge of the english language, nor did any person in authority appear whom they might question by signs or otherwise. it almost seemed as if they had been established in this place by some fairy godmother who had then gone away and forgotten all about them. their personal baggage had arrived with them, but there were no stables connected with the mansion and their entire caravan had disappeared.
“i think,” said janet, answering their chaperon, “that we are all as much puzzled as you are, aunt lucy.”
“puzzled!” exclaimed the old lady, indignantly; “why should we be puzzled? aren’t we free american citizens, and haven’t we enough money to pay our way back to new york if we want to go?”
“it isn’t that, dear,” said bessie, soothingly. “we have both the financial means and the inclination to leave mekran. but kasam seems to have wholly deserted us, and we don’t know what has become of our horses and dromedaries and tents and other things. even the afghans who were employed to guard us have disappeared.”
“i always had my suspicions of that kasam,” declared the old lady with a toss of her head; “and he turned out exactly as i thought he would. he’s stolen the whole caravan, under our very noses, and he’d have stolen you, too, janet moore, if i hadn’t kept an eye on him. stolen you and put you into some harem or other, and dressed you in pink silk bloomers and a yellow crepe veil, like those creatures we saw passing the house the other day in stretchers.”
janet smiled, and bessie burst into merry laughter.
“oh, auntie! those were not stretchers,” she protested. “they were palanquins. and didn’t the girls look lovely, nestled among their cushions!”
“don’t mention the hussies, bessie. it’s an outrage to parade such frightful depravity in the public streets.”
“you know, dear,” said janet, softly, “that it is the custom in these eastern countries to veil all females from the eyes of men, which are thought to defile the purity of young girls and married women alike. it seems to me a pretty thought, however misapplied, according reverence and sacredness to our sex that is in strong contrast to the bold freedom of more civilized communities.”
“but the harems are dens of iniquity,” declared aunt lucy, sternly.
“the harems are simply the quarters set aside for the women of the native households,” replied janet, “and they contain the mothers and daughters of families as well as the wives. of course only the wealthier natives can afford harems, which are naturally more or less luxurious. but even the lower classes require their women to be veiled when in public.”
“swathed, you mean,” snapped the elder lady. “bandaged up to the eyes like mummies. you needn’t talk to me about harems, janet moore; i know very well they’re not respectable, and so do you. did you ever hear of a harem in america? we wouldn’t allow such things a minute! and do you mean to say these miserable baluchi are not all mormons?”
“they’re mahomedans, auntie—or sunnites, which is very much the same thing,” remarked bessie, “but if you mean that they have a plurality of wives, it’s a thing that can’t be proved, for kasam says that even the law is powerless to invade the sanctity of the harem.”
“sanctity!” with a scornful snort. “and don’t quote that young man—that caravan stealer—to me. what has all this to do with our imprisonment, i’d like to know? and what’s going to be the end of it all? i’ve had enough of this place.”
“we’ve all had enough of it,” said a gloomy voice, and allison entered and threw himself into a chair.
“is there anything new, allison?” asked janet, looking at her brother anxiously.
“not that i know of,” he replied. “i’ve been roaming through the streets trying to find some one that can speak english; but they’re all dummies in mekran, so far as we’re concerned. one fellow i met had a fine black horse—the most glorious arabian i have seen—and he led it with a rag twisted around its neck. i offered him a whole pocketful of twenty-dollar gold pieces, but, by jove! he just glanced at the money and shook his head. the american eagle doesn’t seem to be of much account in this neck-of-the-woods.”
“where is papa?” asked janet.
“engaged in writing an official communication to the khan, i suppose, on the engraved letter-head of the commission. i believe he has left seven of these already at the royal palace.”
“don’t they pay any attention to them?” asked bessie.
“why should they? no one in this enlightened town can speak or read english, now that kasam has gone.”
“where do you suppose kasam has gone to?”
“can’t say, i’m sure. run away with our animals, i guess. i always had a suspicion your lovely prince was no better than a horse-thief.”
“nonsense!” said bessie, indignantly. “i’m sure kasam is not responsible for our present difficulties. it’s that horrid ahmed khan, who got the start of kasam while he was escorting us, and robbed him of his kingdom.”
allison’s laugh sounded rather disagreeable.
“i can’t understand,” said he, “how any decent american girl can go into raptures over a brown-skinned oriental, with treacherous eyes and a beastly temper. kasam’s no better than the rest of his tribe, and as for being khan, i don’t believe he ever had a ghost of a show. the last we saw of him he was being escorted by the khan’s guard to the palace—like a common criminal. probably he’s been in prison for the last three weeks.”
“if that’s the case how could he steal our caravan?” demanded bessie, triumphantly.
“don’t ask so many questions, bess. we’re an ignorant lot of duffers, i’ll admit, but the fact remains that kasam is either a jail-bird or a horse-thief. you can take your choice.”
“do you know whose house this is, and who is entertaining us in this sumptuous way?” asked janet, curiously.
“haven’t the faintest idea. this is certainly the land of mystery. we don’t owe it to kasam, you may be sure, for he had no idea when we entered the town where he was going to lodge us. and it can’t be the mighty khan, for he won’t see us or have anything to do with the commission or its members. possibly it’s that uncle whom kasam used to talk about, the vizier, or something of that sort. if we could only find anyone to talk with we might discover the clue to the puzzle.”
“in the meantime we’re no better than prisoners,” said aunt lucy, snappishly. “there’s nothing to see if we go out and nothing to do if we stay in, and we’re cut off from all the news of the world. we don’t even know who’s been elected president of the united states, and we can’t ask a single question because nobody understands us. if you men had any gumption at all you’d hustle around and find out why we are treated in this impertinent manner. one thing’s certain; unless something is done mighty soon i, for one, mean to quit the commission and go back home—even if i have to walk and pay my own expenses!”
as the good lady paused in her speech a distant noise of drums and bells was heard, accompanied by the low rumble of a multitude of voices. the sounds gradually grew nearer, and allison stepped out upon a balcony to see what caused it. janet and bessie followed him, but aunt lucy had aroused herself to such a pitch of indignation that she remained seated in her chair, busily endeavoring to mend the rents in her travelling skirt, caused during the stress of the long journey to mekran, and refused to even look at “the heathens.”
a procession turned the corner of the street and approached at a slow pace, while the inhabitants of the neighboring houses flocked out upon the balconies and roofs to watch it pass. first came a dozen baluch warriors, the royal colors proclaiming them members of the tribe of ugg. they were superbly mounted and seemed to be picked men. following them were three dromedaries, gaily caparisoned. two were ridden by native officers, but on the third was seated a man dressed simply in a black flowing robe confined at the waist with a silver girdle. he wore upon his head a round black cap, being shielded from the sun by a square of green silk, supported by four slender rods attached to his dromedary’s saddle.
“it is the persian! it is the great physician!” murmured the people, as this rare personage gazed about him and with dignified bows returned the greetings.
all in mekran had heard the wondrous story of this mystic who had caused burah khan to live six days longer than the fates had decreed, and all united in honoring him.
surging on either side of the dromedaries came a rabble beating upon gongs and jingling bells while they shouted extravagant compliments to merad the persian.
the remainder of the procession consisted of fifty tribesmen, fully armed and wearing the colors of the khan. several heavily laden camels at the end implied that the caravan was setting upon a long journey.
as the persian came opposite the house of the americans the physician turned his dark eyes for a moment upon the balcony, and they met those of allison.
“good god!” cried the young man, starting back as if in terror. at the same time janet gave a low moan and sank fainting into bessie’s arms.
“what is it? what has happened?” asked the girl, in frightened tones. “aunt lucy, come and help me! janet has fainted.”
while they carried her into the room and fussed over her, as women will on such occasions, allison turned and rushed down into the street. he was not long in overtaking the dromedaries, and, running beside them, he shouted:
“wait, doctor! let me speak to you a moment!”
the persian was bowing in the direction of a balcony on the opposite side of the street, and seemed not to hear the young american. but allison was desperate.
“wait—wait!” he cried again, and turned to seize the camel’s bridle.
then the physician slowly turned his head and gazed curiously down upon the man.
“i must speak with you,” said allison, tugging at the bridle.
the persian seemed puzzled but smiled indulgently and glanced toward his attendants. instantly a big baluch rode forward and grasped allison by his collar, thrusting him back into the crowd.
the procession moved on, the honored persian again bowing to right and left and wholly indifferent to the cries the american sent after him. when the last pack animal had passed, allison’s guard released him; but the engineer followed with dogged steps until the caravan had reached the iron gateway and passed through without halting, the noisy rabble shouting enthusiastic farewells as it disappeared. then silent and thoughtful, allison returned to the house.
“without doubt i have been mistaken,” he mused; “and yet it seems strange that the world should contain two men whose features are identically the same—and both of them physicians, too. in new york osborne passed for an east indian, and this man is a persian. if they were the same surely he would have recognized me, if only to curse me as he did at home in the old days.”
he found janet not only recovered but laughing gaily at what she called her “foolish weakness.” somehow it jarred upon allison to hear his melancholy sister laughing, to note the sparkle in her eyes and the flush that for the first time in years mantled her fair cheeks. he had no difficulty in accounting for all this, yet when she cast an eager, enquiring look at her brother he took a certain satisfaction in answering it with a scowl and a shake of his head.
“i followed him,” said he, “and managed to speak to him. we were both mistaken, janet. it is a stranger—some notable the people seem to know well, and call by the name of merad.”
“merad?”
“yes. he has started upon a journey across the plains—returning to his home, i think.”
to his surprise janet smiled and began twisting up her disordered hair.
“very well, dear,” she answered, carelessly, and as if dismissing the subject from her mind as unimportant she turned to renew her conversation with bessie.
suddenly a scuffle was heard in the passage.
“i’ve got him! i’ve got him!” called the voice of dr. warner; and then the draperies were pulled aside and the colonel and the doctor rushed into the room dragging between them a nondescript form from which came yells of protest in a high minor key.
“we’ve got him!” shouted the colonel, triumphantly, as the prisoner was dumped in the center of the room.
“land of mercy! what have you got?” demanded aunt lucy, glaring upon the strange object with amazement.
the doctor drew out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead vigorously.
“he speaks english!” he answered, impressively, waving the handkerchief in the direction of the limp captive.
janet laughed, almost hysterically; but the others stared with marked interest at the man who could speak english.
he was exceedingly short in stature, and likewise exceedingly squat and round of form. his head was entirely bald except for a bushy lock upon the very top, but a long beard, tangled, unkempt and grizzled, reached nearly to his middle. his cheeks were fat, his eyes small and beady, and his nose so curved that its point was perpetually lost in the flowing beard. for costume the man wore a gown of red and white quilted silk that aunt lucy afterward declared reminded her of a bath robe, except that no word signifying “bath” could ever be properly applied to either the robe or the wearer. there were sandals upon his grimy feet and a leathern pouch hung at his girdle.
“wherever in the world did you get him?” asked bessie, drawing a long breath.
“energy and enterprise will accomplish anything,” replied the doctor, proudly. “the colonel and i went to the booths this morning to search for tobacco. all the shops in this infernal town are mere booths, you know, and all are located against the inner side of the city wall. until today we had never visited any of these places except the nearest ones, for they all look alike. but good tobacco is a scarce article in mekran, and we kept circling around the wall until we came to one dirty little hole where this man sat. to our surprise and joy he answered us in english. we fell on his neck—i believe the colonel kissed him—and then we seized him and brought him here.”
“i do not remember kissing him,” retorted the colonel, with twinkling eyes. “it must have been the doctor.”
“oh, luther!” said aunt lucy, horrified. “how could you ever do it?”
“he speaks english,” replied the doctor. “we’ve adopted him.”
a whine came from the prostrate victim.
“what’s his name?” asked allison.
“hi, there. what’s your name?” questioned the doctor, stirring the bundle with his foot.
“davit, goot excellency,” came the meek reply.
“stand up, david, so we can get a good look at you,” said the colonel.
so david rolled over and with some difficulty scrambled to his feet. miss warner began to giggle, and janet laughed outright. even aunt lucy allowed a grim smile to rest upon her wrinkled features.
“who are you, david?” enquired the doctor.
“i iss merchant, most excellency. chew merchant.”
“where did you learn english?”
“from mine fadder, who vas a cherman merchant unt lived in kelat.”
“who taught him english?”
david looked reproachful.
“he knew it, most high excellency. mine fadder could shbeak anyt’ing efferyvhere.”
“except the truth, i suppose. tell me, david; are you rich?”
the jew cast a frightened look around him.
“all i haf in de vorlt,” he moaned, “iss in my pouch. if you rob de pouch i am nodding any more whateffer!”
the colonel with a sudden motion grasped the pouch and jerked it free from the girdle. then, while david wept real tears of anguish, his tormentor emptied the contents of the pouch upon the table. these consisted of a miscellaneous collection of native coins of very little value.
“really, you are very poor, david,” the colonel remarked.
“i am vorse, goot excellency,” he replied, encouraged by the tone. “who iss so misserable ass davit? who iss so poor, so frientless, so efferyt’ing? i shall go dead!”
“don’t do that, david. if a man is poor, he should strive to get rich. watch me,” and the colonel took a handful of gold from his pocket and threw it into the pouch, afterward adding the former insignificant contents. the injunction to watch this proceeding was wholly unnecessary. david’s eyes sparkled like diamonds and he trembled with eagerness while the colonel carefully tied the mouth of the pouch. then, tossing the bag from hand to hand so that it jingled merrily, he said:
“this is real wealth, david—good yellow gold. and it shall all be yours, with an equal sum added to it, if you consent to serve us faithfully.”
david fell upon his knees and waved his short arms frantically toward the pouch.
“i vill do anyt’ing, great excellency! i vill be serfant—i vill be slafe! yes, i vill be brudder to you all!”
“very good,” returned the colonel. he walked to a massive cabinet, elaborately carved, that was built into the wall of the room. unlocking a drawer he tossed the pouch within and then carefully relocked it and placed the key in his own pocket.
there was a look of despair on david’s face. he still knelt upon the floor, his arms rigidly outstretched toward the cabinet.
“now, david,” continued the colonel, calmly, while the others looked on, much amused, “you must not forget that you are going to be very rich, and that all this money—doubled, and perhaps tripled—will be yours as soon as you have earned it. and you are going to earn it by speaking english, and translating our speech to natives, and by doing exactly what we tell you to do, at all times and under all circumstances. but if you deceive me—if you prove unfaithful in any way—you will never see your pouch again.”
“i vill shpik engliss all day! i vill do anyt’ing!” protested david.
“once,” said the doctor, “a man proved faithless to us. and what do you suppose happened to him, david? well, you couldn’t guess. i skinned him very carefully and stuffed him with sawdust, and now he sits on a shelf in my home with a lovely smile on his face and two glass eyes that all observers consider very beautiful.”
david groaned.
“i am true man, most excellency! i half neffer deceive. i neffer can deceive!
“we shall trust you,” said the doctor, gravely. “i feel quite certain you will never deserve to be stuffed with sawdust.”
“how absurd!” ejaculated aunt lucy. “do give him a bath and some decent clothes, and stop bothering him. if we’ve got to have the fellow around let’s make him respectable.”
“that is a task that can only be performed outwardly,” returned the doctor, imperturbably. “but even that is worthy of consideration. come, allison, let us see what can be done toward the renovation of david.”
as the shuffling form of “the man who could speak english” disappeared through the archway, aunt lucy, who had been shrewdly studying his face, remarked oracularly:
“he’s playing possum. you mark my words, that jew’s no fool. if he was, he wouldn’t be a jew.”
