both impressed and certain of impressing his hearer. "He has
promised eternal peace to me and to my people."

The Englishman in Matthews permitted him a second smile.

"The Father of Swords," he said, "speaks a word which I do not
understand. I am a _Firengi_, but I have never heard of a Shah of the
Shahs of the _Firengis_. In the house of Islam are there not many who
rule? In Tehran, for instance, there is the young Ahmed Shah. Then among
the Bakhtiaris there is an Ilkhani, at Mohamera there is the Sheikh of
the Cha'b, and in the valleys of Pusht-i-Kuh none is above the Father of
Swords. I do not forget, either, the Emirs of Mecca and Afghanistan, or
the Sultan in Stambul. And among them what _Firengi_ shall say who is
the greatest? And so it is in _Firengistan_. Yet as for this paper, it
is written in the tongue of a king smaller than the one whose subject I
am, whose crown has been worn by few fathers. But the name at the bottom
of the paper is not his. It is not even a name known to the _Firengis_
when they speak among themselves of the great of their lands. Where did
you see him?"

The Father of Swords stroked his scarlet beard, looking at his young
visitor with more of a gleam in the dull black of his eyes than Matthews
had yet noticed.

"Truly is it said: 'Fix not thy heart on what is transitory, for the
Tigris will continue to flow through Baghdad after the race of Caliphs
is extinct!' You make it clear to me that you are of the People of the
Chain."

"If I were of the People of the Chain," protested Matthews, "there is no
reason why I should hide it. The People of the Chain do not steal
secretly through the valleys of Pusht-i-Kuh, telling the Lurs lies and
giving them papers in the night. I am not one of the People of the
Chain. But the king of the People of the Chain is also my king. And he
is a great king, lord of many lands and many seas, who has no need of
secret messengers, hostlers and scullions of whom no one has heard, to
persuade strangers of his greatness."

"Your words do not persuade me!" cried the Father of Swords. "A wise man
is like a jar in the house of the apothecary, silent but full of
virtues. If the king who sent me this letter has such hostlers and such
scullions, how great must be his khans and viziers! And why do the Turks
trust him? Why do the other _Firengis_ allow his ships in Bushir and
Basra? Or why do not the People of the Chain better prove the character
of their lord? But t