what is
coming," and before Guy could reply they were ushered into the very
apartment which they had left so hastily a few hours before.

It had undergone no change. The lamps had been relit, the wine bottles
and glasses still stood on the table, and in Sir Arthur's chair of state
sat Makar Makalo, very stern and dignified, while around him, squatted
on the rugs, were four Arabs of superior caste and intelligence,
comprising, no doubt, the freshly formed cabinet of the great governor
of Zaila.

Makar waited until his captives had ranged themselves along the wall,
and then, with great _sang froid_, he helped himself to a cigar from Sir
Arthur's choice box of Partagas, lit it, and poured off a glass of
champagne which he despatched at a gulp.

Having thus proved beyond a doubt that he possessed all the chief
qualifications of a British political resident, he settled back in his
chair and surveyed his prisoners with lowering brow.

"Bless my heart!" ejaculated Sir Arthur. "What most amazing imptu--" a
sudden rap on the head from one of the guards cut short his speech, and
he relapsed into indignant silence.

Makar was plainly a man of iron nerve, for he met calmly and even boldly
the indignant, defiant glances that were turned upon him as he scanned
the row of prisoners ranged before him.

Glancing toward the windows he dispersed with a wave of his hand the
dark swarm of faces peering eagerly within, and then at last he deigned
to break the silence which had become so ominous.

"I have promised ye your lives," he said. "Makar never breaks his word.
Allah is great, and it is the will of Allah that Zaila should belong to
the true followers of the prophet. Already has his will been fulfilled.
The hated Inglis soldiers are dead. Rao Khan is the ruler of Zaila, and
Markar is his servant."

He paused and helped himself to another glass of champagne. It was
evident that Makar was not at heart a true follower of the prophet, for
the Koran strictly forbids all intoxicants.

Another impressive pause followed. Guy glanced at Melton and was alarmed
to see the dead white pallor on his face. Melton alone perhaps know what
was coming. On the rest the blow fell with crushing severity.

"Have I not said that Makar's word is inviolate?" the Arab resumed,
leaning forward and uttering each syllable sharply and distinctly.

"Can Makar break his pledge?" and he turned to his solemn visaged
ministers.

"No, no, no," they muttered