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CHAPTER XI CAPTURE OF DAVID THE JEW
 “Now, girls, I want you to tell me what we’re going to do,” said Aunt Lucy, looking over her spectacles at Janet and Bessie, while her needle continued to ply1 in a jerky fashion. “Your father, Janet Moore, says he is waiting here in Mekran to get an audience with the high jumboree of this forsaken2 country about that nonsensical railroad; and your father, Bessie Warner, says we are staying here because we can’t get away. Now, I want to know what it all means.”  
They were sitting in the cool and spacious3 upper chamber4 of a square white house which had been mysteriously placed at the disposal of the Americans the evening of their arrival in Mekran. It was comfortably furnished, with no less than a dozen native servants to wait upon them, their meals being bountiful and prepared with exact regularity5. But no one about them had any knowledge of the English language, nor did any person in authority appear whom they might question by signs or otherwise. It almost seemed as if they had been established in this place by some fairy godmother who had then gone away and forgotten all about them. Their personal baggage had arrived with them, but there were no stables connected with the mansion6 and their entire caravan7 had disappeared.
 
“I think,” said Janet, answering their chaperon, “that we are all as much puzzled as you are, Aunt Lucy.”
 
“Puzzled!” exclaimed the old lady, indignantly; “why should we be puzzled? Aren’t we free American citizens, and haven’t we enough money to pay our way back to New York if we want to go?”
 
“It isn’t that, dear,” said Bessie, soothingly8. “We have both the financial means and the inclination9 to leave Mekran. But Kasam seems to have wholly deserted10 us, and we don’t know what has become of our horses and dromedaries and tents and other things. Even the Afghans who were employed to guard us have disappeared.”
 
“I always had my suspicions of that Kasam,” declared the old lady with a toss of her head; “and he turned out exactly as I thought he would. He’s stolen the whole caravan, under our very noses, and he’d have stolen you, too, Janet Moore, if I hadn’t kept an eye on him. Stolen you and put you into some harem or other, and dressed you in pink silk bloomers and a yellow crepe veil, like those creatures we saw passing the house the other day in stretchers.”
 
Janet smiled, and Bessie burst into merry laughter.
 
“Oh, Auntie! those were not stretchers,” she protested. “They were palanquins. And didn’t the girls look lovely, nestled among their cushions!”
 
“Don’t mention the hussies, Bessie. It’s an outrage12 to parade such frightful13 depravity in the public streets.”
 
“You know, dear,” said Janet, softly, “that it is the custom in these Eastern countries to veil all females from the eyes of men, which are thought to defile14 the purity of young girls and married women alike. It seems to me a pretty thought, however misapplied, according reverence16 and sacredness to our sex that is in strong contrast to the bold freedom of more civilized17 communities.”
 
“But the harems are dens18 of iniquity,” declared Aunt Lucy, sternly.
 
“The harems are simply the quarters set aside for the women of the native households,” replied Janet, “and they contain the mothers and daughters of families as well as the wives. Of course only the wealthier natives can afford harems, which are naturally more or less luxurious19. But even the lower classes require their women to be veiled when in public.”
 
“Swathed, you mean,” snapped the elder lady. “Bandaged up to the eyes like mummies. You needn’t talk to me about harems, Janet Moore; I know very well they’re not respectable, and so do you. Did you ever hear of a harem in America? We wouldn’t allow such things a minute! And do you mean to say these miserable20 Baluchi are not all Mormons?”
 
“They’re Mahomedans, Auntie—or Sunnites, which is very much the same thing,” remarked Bessie, “but if you mean that they have a plurality of wives, it’s a thing that can’t be proved, for Kasam says that even the law is powerless to invade the sanctity of the harem.”
 
“Sanctity!” with a scornful snort. “And don’t quote that young man—that caravan stealer—to me. What has all this to do with our imprisonment21, I’d like to know? And what’s going to be the end of it all? I’ve had enough of this place.”
 
“We’ve all had enough of it,” said a gloomy voice, and Allison entered and threw himself into a chair.
 
“Is there anything new, Allison?” asked Janet, looking at her brother anxiously.
 
“Not that I know of,” he replied. “I’ve been roaming through the streets trying to find some one that can speak English; but they’re all dummies22 in Mekran, so far as we’re concerned. One fellow I met had a fine black horse—the most glorious Arabian I have seen—and he led it with a rag twisted around its neck. I offered him a whole pocketful of twenty-dollar gold pieces, but, by Jove! he just glanced at the money and shook his head. The American eagle doesn’t seem to be of much account in this neck-of-the-woods.”
 
“Where is papa?” asked Janet.
 
“Engaged in writing an official communication to the Khan, I suppose, on the engraved23 letter-head of the Commission. I believe he has left seven of these already at the royal palace.”
 
“Don’t they pay any attention to them?” asked Bessie.
 
“Why should they? No one in this enlightened town can speak or read English, now that Kasam has gone.”
 
“Where do you suppose Kasam has gone to?”
 
“Can’t say, I’m sure. Run away with our animals, I guess. I always had a suspicion your lovely prince was no better than a horse-thief.”
 
“Nonsense!” said Bessie, indignantly. “I’m sure Kasam is not responsible for our present difficulties. It’s that horrid24 Ahmed Khan, who got the start of Kasam while he was escorting us, and robbed him of his kingdom.”
 
Allison’s laugh sounded rather disagreeable.
 
“I can’t understand,” said he, “how any decent American girl can go into raptures25 over a brown-skinned Oriental, with treacherous26 eyes and a beastly temper. Kasam’s no better than the rest of his tribe, and as for being khan, I don’t believe he ever had a ghost of a show. The last we saw of him he was being escorted by the khan’s guard to the palace—like a common criminal. Probably he’s been in prison for the last three weeks.”
 
“If that’s the case how could he steal our caravan?” demanded Bessie, triumphantly27.
 
“Don’t ask so many questions, Bess. We’re an ignorant lot of duffers, I’ll admit, but the fact remains28 that Kasam is either a jail-bird or a horse-thief. You can take your choice.”
 
“Do you know whose house this is, and who is entertaining us in this sumptuous29 way?” asked Janet, curiously30.
 
“Haven’t the faintest idea. This is certainly the land of mystery. We don’t owe it to Kasam, you may be sure, for he had no idea when we entered the town where he was going to lodge31 us. And it can’t be the mighty32 Khan, for he won’t see us or have anything to do with the Commission or its members. Possibly it’s that uncle whom Kasam used to talk about, the vizier, or something of that sort. If we could only find anyone to talk with we might discover the clue to the puzzle.”
 
“In the meantime we’re no better than prisoners,” said Aunt Lucy, snappishly. “There’s nothing to see if we go out and nothing to do if we stay in, and we’re cut off from all the news of the world. We don’t even know who’s been elected President of the United States, and we can’t ask a single question because nobody understands us. If you men had any gumption33 at all you’d hustle34 around and find out why we are treated in this impertinent manner. One thing’s certain; unless something is done mighty soon I, for one, mean to quit the Commission and go back home—even if I have to walk and pay my own expenses!”
 
As the good lady paused in her speech a distant noise of drums and bells was heard, accompanied by the low rumble35 of a multitude of voices. The sounds gradually grew nearer, and Allison stepped out upon a balcony to see what caused it. Janet and Bessie followed him, but Aunt Lucy had aroused herself to such a pitch of indignation that she remained seated in her chair, busily endeavoring to mend the rents in her travelling skirt, caused during the stress of the long journey to Mekran, and refused to even look at “the heathens.”
 
A procession turned the corner of the street and approached at a slow pace, while the inhabitants of the neighboring houses flocked out upon the balconies and roofs to watch it pass. First came a dozen Baluch warriors36, the royal colors proclaiming them members of the tribe of Ugg. They were superbly mounted and seemed to be picked men. Following them were three dromedaries, gaily37 caparisoned. Two were ridden by native officers, but on the third was seated a man dressed simply in a black flowing robe confined at the waist with a silver girdle. He wore upon his head a round black cap, being shielded from the sun by a square of green silk, supported by four slender rods attached to his dromedary’s saddle.
 
“It is the Persian! It is the great physician!” murmured the people, as this rare personage gazed about him and with dignified38 bows returned the greetings.
 
All in Mekran had heard the wondrous39 story of this mystic who had caused Burah Khan to live six days longer than the fates had decreed, and all united in honoring him.
 
Surging on either side of the dromedaries came a rabble40 beating upon gongs and jingling41 bells while they shouted extravagant42 compliments to Merad the Persian.
 
The remainder of the procession consisted of fifty tribesmen, fully43 armed and wearing the colors of the khan. Several heavily laden44 camels at the end implied that the caravan was setting upon a long journey.
 
As the Persian came opposite the house of the Americans the physician turned his dark eyes for a moment upon the balcony, and they met those of Allison.
 
“Good God!” cried the young man, starting back as if in terror. At the same time Janet gave a low moan and sank fainting into Bessie’s arms.
 
“What is it? What has happened?” asked the girl, in frigh............
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