Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
ten seconds the Russian's weapon lay upon O'Rourke's knee.
"And now what?" Viazma wished to know nervously.
"Sit around, face to the table. Say nothing to your friend on your left in a tone that I cannot hear. If ye do—well, a word to the Russ, me friend, should be sufficient."
Viazma slowly did as he was bid; but almost immediately afterwards the necessity of watching him was over and done with.
For out of the uproar of voices that of Prince Aziz rose dominant.
"Messieurs," he cried, standing and surveying the table, "silence, if you please." It was accorded him. "We are all agreed, I believe," he went on, "at least upon one point—the assassination of Lord Cromer is to be the signal for our uprising."
"That is so," a voice coincided.
"It remains, then, but to settle one thing—the date of the assassination. On the principle that the sooner the better, I appoint to-morrow evening, when the British representative takes his daily constitutional on the Gizereh Drive. Are we agreed?"
"We are," came from each individual sitter—save O'Rourke, upon whose silence none commented.
"I am the chosen instrument, as you all know," continued the Egyptian prince. "Messieurs, fill up your glasses. I give you a toast." He paused.
"A health," he cried, raising aloft his glass, "to the men who strike the first blows for Egypt! And—death to Lord Cromer!"
The conspirators arose, filling the room with loud manifestations of their approval.
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