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.
