went to the door, opened and read a lengthy cablegram, whistled through his teeth, and said to himself that the guv'nor must have gone batty in his bloomin' old belfry.
But, knowing Mr. Preserved Higgins of old, he followed the instructions to the letter, and caused Fleet Street and Bishopsgate Street and Lombard Street to zum with the greatest financial sensation of a decade.
“Extry—extry!” shrilled the newsboys. “Mr. 'Iggins, the fymous capitalist, mykes full confession … cheated at cards … extry—extry!”
It was a few days later that Hector Wade, walking through the palace garden arm in arm with Jane, suddenly stopped and put his finger on his lips.
“Listen!” he whispered.
For, from behind an immense, gnarled deodar tree, drifted voices, the princess' and Tollemache's, speaking in soft, gliding Persian which Hector translated to Jane in an undertone.
“Aziza Nurmahal!” said Tollemache, “I need thee, I need thee so! The thought of thee going out of my life—God!—I cannot stand it. I could not face existence without thee!”
And the princess' answer:
“And I, too, best beloved, I need thee. Without thee, life would be but the dust of the rose petal, with the sweetness, the perfume, gone forever! Without thee, I shall be as lonely as the gray cliff swallow! I need thee, dear, as thou needest me. Thou art the Expected One! Thou and I, together, will finally fulfill the ancient prophecy—the wooing of blades!”
