"And he who questions my titles to my land "
"Aahh! 'Ware riot!" The Governor's hunting-crop cracked like a
three-pounder. "By Allah," he thundered, "if the afflicted of God
come to any harm at your hands, I myself will shoot every hound
and every puppy, and the Hunt shall ride no more. On your heads
be it. Go in peace, and tell the others."
"The Hunt shall ride no more," said Farag's uncle. "Then how can
the land be governed? No--no, O Excellency Our Governor, we will
not harm a hair on the head of the afflicted of God. He shall be
to us as is Abu Hussein's wife in the breeding season."
When they were gone the Governor mopped his forehead.
"We must put a few soldiers in every village this Groombride
visits, Baker. Tell 'em to keep out of sight, and have an eye on
the villagers. He's trying 'em rather high."
"O Excellency," said the smooth voice of Farag, laying the Field
and Country Life square on the table, "is the afflicted of God
who resembles Bigglebai one with the man whom the Inspector met
in the great house in England, and to whom he told the tale of
the Mudir's Cranes?"
"The same man, Farag," said the Inspector.
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