Prince Azim meanwhile invited me to inspect his sword and
pistols. The former, a splendid Damascus blade, and hilt encrusted
with jewels, I especially admired. Had I known the use to which it
had been put that morning, I should not, perhaps, have been so
enthusiastic.
Again the Khan addressed me.
"Do you know Russia well?"
"Pretty well."
"Is it true that the Russians do not allow Mohammedans to worship in
Central Asia?"
"I believe that is untrue."
"It is a lie?"
"Most certainly it is."
"Your own countrymen told me so." At this there was a roar of
laughter, in which the Khan joined.
The durbar-room of Kelat reminded me of an English court of justice.
When the Khan laughed his courtiers did, and _vice versa_. After an
interval of more snuff-taking and whispering, the Khan drew forth and
examined my watch. Taking this for a polite hint that the interview
had lasted long enough, I rose to go, but was at once thrust back into
my chair by Azim. "You are not to go," said the Wazir. "The Khan is
much interested by you."
"Dhuleep Singh is in Russia, is he not?" then asked the Khan.
"Yes."
"What does Russia pay him a year?"
"I do not know."
"More than England did?"
"I do not know."
"You English never do know anything," muttered the Khan, impatiently;
adding, "Do you know the Czar of Russia?"
"I have seen him."
"Is he a good man?"
"I believe him to be so."
"Then why do his people try to kill him?"
"Some of them are Socialists."
"Socialists!" repeated the Khan, slowly. "What is that?"
I then explained with some difficulty the meaning of the word.
"Humph!" was the rejoinder. Then, with a whisk of the yellow bandanna:
"I am glad I have none in Kelat!"
A mark of great favour was then shown me, the Khan presenting me with
his photograph, with the request that I would show it to "Parliament"
when I got home. I think he was under the impression that the latter
is a human being. An incident that occurred but two years since is
typical of the intelligence of the ruler of Kelat and his court. It
was at Quetta, on the occasion of the presentation of Mir Khudadad
to the Viceroy of India. Previous to a grand _dejeuner_ given in his
honour, the Khan and his suite were shown into a dressing-room for the
purpose of washing their hands. On entering to announce that luncheon
was ready, the aide-de-camp found that the distinguished guests had
already commenced operations, and were greedily devouring the cakes
of Pears' soap that had been placed there for a somewhat different
purpose. That none of the party felt any after ill effects speaks well
for the purity of the wares of the mammoth advertiser - or the Baluch
digestion!
