ave known. Silly ass! See what I
mean? Get something for me--quick!"

For two hours Antoine applied hot water bags and soothing syrups, and
his master, far from dying as he continually prophesied, dropped off
into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning Deppingham, fully convinced that the native servants
had tried to poison _him_, inquired of his wife if _she_ had felt the
alarming symptoms. She confessed to a violent headache, but laid it to
the champagne. Later on, the rather haggard victim approached Browne
with subtle inquiries. Browne also had a headache, but said he wasn't
surprised. Fifteen minutes later, Deppingham, taking the bit in his
quivering mouth, unconditionally discharged the entire force of native
servants. He was still in a cold perspiration when he sent Saunders to
tell his wife what he had done and what a narrow escape all of them had
had from the treacherous Moslems.

Of course, there was a great upheaval. Lady Agnes came tearing down to
the servants' hall, followed directly by the Brownes and Mr. Britt. The
natives were ready to depart, considerably nonplussed, but not a little
relieved.

"Stop!" she cried. "Deppy, what are you doing? Discharging them after
we've had such a time getting them? Are you crazy?"

"They're a pack of snakes--I mean sneaks. They're assassins. They tried
to poison every one of us last--"

"Nonsense! You ate too much. Besides, what's the odds between being
poisoned and being starved to death? Where is Mr. Britt?" She gave a
sharp cry of relief as Britt came dashing down the corridor. "We must
engage them all over again," she lamented, after explaining the
situation. "Stand in the door, Deppy, and don't let them out until Mr.
Britt has talked with them," she called to the disgraced nobleman.

"They won't stop for me," he muttered, looking at the half-dozen krises
that were visible.

Britt smoothed the troubled waters with astonishing ease; the servants
returned to their duties, but not without grumbling and no end of savage
glances, all of which were levelled at the luckless Deppingham.

"By Jove, you'll see, sooner or later," he protested, like the
schoolboy, almost ready to hope that the servants would bear him out by
doling out ample quantities of strychnine that very night.

"Why poison?" demanded Britt. "They've got knives and guns, haven't
they?"

"My dear man, that would put them to no end of trouble, cleaning up
after us," said Deppingham, loftily.

The