skillfully
and diplomatically does the old khan in the cerulean gown acquit himself
of this mission, that I thoroughly understand what is to be my
disposition, although Herat is never mentioned. He talks volubly about
the Ameer, the Wali, the Padishah, the dowleh, Cabool, Allah, and a host
of other subjects, out of which I readily evolve my fate; but, as yet, he
breathes nothing but diplomatic hints, and these are clothed in the most
pleasant and reassuring smiles, and given in tones of paternal
solicitude. The colonel sits and listens intently, and now and then
chimes in with a word of soothing assent by way of emphasizing the
subject, when the khan is explaining about the Ameer, or Allah, or
kismet. Mahmoud Tusuph Khan himself comes to the garden in the cool of
the evening, and for half an hour occupies bungalow No. 2. He betrays a
spark of Oriental vanity by having an attendant follow behind, bearing a
huge and wonderful sun-shade, into the make-up of which peacock feathers
and other gorgeous material largely enters. Noticing this, I make a
determined assault upon his bump of Asiatic self-esteem, by asking him if
he is brother to the Ameer. He smiles and says he is a brother of Shere
Ali, the ex-Ameer deposed in favor of Abdur Bahman. His remarks during
our second interview are largely composed of furtive queries, intended to
penetrate what he evidently, even as yet, suspects to be the secret
object of my mysterious appearance in the heart of the country. The
Afghan official is nothing if not suspicious, and although he professed
his own conviction, in the morning, of my being an English "nokshi," his
constitutionally suspicious nature forbids him accepting this impression
as final.

During this interview two more natives of India are produced and ordered
to assail my long-suffering ears with the battery of their vernacular.
They are an interesting pair, and they evince the liveliest imaginable
interest in finding a Sahib alone in the hands of the Afghans. They are
vivacious and intelligent, and try hard to make themselves understood.
From their own vocal and pantomimic efforts and the Persian of the
Afghans, I learn that they are sepoys in charge of three prisoners from
the Boundary Commission camp, whom they are taking through to Quetta.

They seem very anxious to do something in my behalf, and want Mahmoud
Yusuph Khan to let them take me with them to Quetta. I lose no time in
signifying my approval of this sugges