would still be in England, living an entirely honorable and entirely innocuous life as a subaltern of Dragoons, while here he was standing on his own feet—independent—and …
He shut off his rambling thoughts and turned to Ayesha Zemzem who was still emptying the vials of her abuse on the head of Gulabian, to the accompaniment of Koom Khan's rumbling laughter.
“Enough!” Hector raised an impatient hand. “The harm is done. Mr. Preserved Higgins knows of the prophecy, knows enough of it at least to turn it to his advantage, and he will doubtless try and force our hands in the matter of the 'concessions.' All right. We'll make the best of a bad bargain.”
“A very bad bargain,” commented Koom Khan, with a sidelong glance at the treasurer.
The latter smiled.
“Fight poison with poison,” he suggested. “The Babu Chandra, too, represents European interests. If thou, O Al Nakia, sayest the word …”
“I know. If I say the word, the sahebs who employ the Babu Chandra will some to my support with money and rifles and ammunition—but they, too, will demand 'concessions.' No—there is no choice between the Devil and Satan. No 'concessions' shall be granted until we—the princess and I—have thoroughly considered the matter from every angle. I do not trust the sahebs.”
“And thou a saheb thyself!” softly said the Armenian.
