“Burah Khan, by your own showing, is virtually dead at this moment. I owe no allegiance to his son, whom I have never seen.” 
“How is that?” asked the physician, in surprise. 
“When Ahmed was a child his father, fearing a revolt and that his boy might fall by an assassin’s knife, placed him in the Sunnite monastery at Takkatu for safe keeping. There he has remained ever since. It will be necessary for Burah Khan to officially acknowledge him before the chiefs of the Nine Tribes and to appoint him his own successor, before Ahmed can legally occupy the throne. If this is not done the people, who are weary of the rule of these tyrants, will acclaim Kasam as khan.” 
“But Prince Ahmed will arrive, and be acknowledged. Burah Khan has so willed it, and he is still the master.” 
Agahr faced the Persian with an angry frown. 
“Do you refuse to assist us?” he asked, sharply. 
“I refuse to betray the man whose life I have promised to preserve until his son arrives,” declared the physician. 
“But you are a stranger--a Persian.” 
“Even so.” 
“And you expect a reward, or you would not have hastened to Mekran when summoned by the Khan. Name your price. I will double it, and you shall depart this very night.” 
The Persian smiled. 
“Here, and throughout the world,” said he, “the strongest argument is the clink of gold. Listen well, your Excellency. I have promised Burah Khan life for seven days. I shall keep my promise. Then, if the Prince does not come, I can do no more.” 
The vizier started. 
“If the Prince does not come?” he repeated, thoughtfully. 
“To be sure.” 
“Ah! I had not thought of that!” exclaimed the old man. 
“It is the only thing I fear,” said the other, with exasperating coolness; “but I rely upon Dirrag. If you are able to delay him you will doubtless win the throne for Prince Kasam.” 
Before the mocking tones had died away the physician disappeared behind the draperies of the khan’s chamber, and the vizier, controlling his anger and chagrin as best he might, walked away to concoct further plans. 
The woman who brought the Persian his evening meal became confused under his sharp scrutiny and started to retire hurriedly. He arrested her with a stern command, saying: 
“Sit here and taste of the dish you have brought.” 
Then she began to tremble. 
“Master, I dare not!” she wailed. 
“Very well. Take away this food and bring me eggs boiled in the shell.” 
The physician was bending over the couch of the khan when one of the under cooks entered silently with the eggs. The man was of the Brahoe caste, small and wiry. He placed the eggs upon the table and eyed for a time the back of the tall Persian, who seemed intent upon his patient. But a moment later he suddenly straightened, threw back his hand and caught the wrist of the Brahoe in a firm grasp. 
A dagger 

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