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<h2>CHAPTER XVI. KĀRA THREATENS.</h2> Those two days were uneasy ones to Kāra. He felt no dread of Aneth’s final answer, but the waiting for it was wearisome. Their arrangements might easily have been concluded at the last interview had he not been weak enough to defer to the girl’s foolish desire to postpone the inevitable. Since he had come from Fedah, the world had been his plaything, and he found it in no way difficult to accomplish those things he determined upon. He had, therefore, acquired unbounded confidence in the powers of Ahtka-Rā’s remarkable Stone of Fortune, which he believed to have a strong influence over all his undertakings. So the Egyptian merely sought to occupy his time to good advantage until he could bring his bride—willing or unwilling mattered little—home to his handsome villa. He sent Tadros to summon the most famous merchants of Cairo to wait upon him, and arranged to have the women’s quarters redecorated in regal fashion. He selected many rich silks and embroideries for Aneth’s use when she should need them, and secured an increased corps of Arab servants, well trained in their duties, to attend the slightest wish of their new mistress. He realized that the establishment must hereafter be conducted more upon the plan of a modern European{178} household, and that the apartments of the harem must be transformed into parlors, reception-halls and drawing-rooms. In marrying Aneth he determined to abandon all Oriental customs and adopt the manners of the newer and broader civilization. He would exhibit his wife in society, and, through her, gain added distinction. His villa would become renowned for its fêtes and magnificent hospitality. Such a life appealed to his imagination, and a marriage with the English girl rendered it possible. Hatatcha had educated and trained Kāra for a purpose; but now her mission and his oath to fulfil it were alike disregarded. He had given the matter considerable thought recently, and decided that his love for Aneth Consinor canceled all obligations to persecute her or her people further. Hatatcha was dead and forgotten by the world, and her wrongs could never be righted by any vengeance that he might inflict upon her enemies. She could not appreciate the justice of retribution, since her spirit was far away in the nether world with Anubis, and her body in the tombs of Fedah. He had, at first, been conscientious in his determination to accomplish his grandmother’s will, but a girl’s eyes had thwarted him, and Hatatcha had herself proved weak when love assailed her. Even as all his schemes were approaching fruition and his grandmother’s revenge was nearing accomplishment, the compelling power of his love arrested his hand and induced him to cast{179} aside everything that might interfere with his prospective happiness. On the afternoon of the second day he dressed himself carefully and ordered his chauffeur to be ready to drive him to the Savoy; but as he was about to leave his room, a note was brought to him from Aneth. He tore it open and eagerly read the message— <div class="blockquot">Dear Prince Kāra:—I am not going to risk another unpleasant interview, because I am anxious we should remain in the future, as in the past, good friends and comrades. But please do not again ask me to marry you, for such a thing is utterly impossible. While I am glad to enjoy your friendship, I can never return the love you profess to bear me, and without love a true woman will not marry. So I beg you will forget that such a thing has ever been discussed between us, and forbear to refer to it again. Your friend, Aneth Consinor. </div> As he read the note Kāra’s face grew set and stern and his dark eyes flashed ominously. He read it a second time, with more care, trying to find some word of hope or compromise in the frankly written epistle. But there was none. He experienced a sensation of disappointment and chagrin, tinged with considerable astonishment. Strange as it may seem, he had never for a moment anticipated such a positive refusal. But his nature was impetuous and capricious, and presently anger drove all other{180} feelings from his heart; and the anger grew and expanded until it was hot and furious and took full possession of him. Perhaps it was the blow to his self-esteem that was most effective in destroying the passion he had mistaken for love. Anyway, the love dissolved with startling rapidity, and in a half hour there was little tenderness remaining for the English girl who had repulsed him. He accepted her answer as conclusive, and began at once to revive his former plans of vengeance. One transport was liable to prove as sweet and exciting as another to him, and he began to revel in the consciousness that he was the supreme master of the fate of all the Consinors. Hatatcha was right after all. These English were cold and faithless, and unworthy the consideration of one of his noble race. He had been incautious and weak for a time, but now he resolved to fulfil his oath to the dead woman to the very letter. He tore the offending paper into fragments, and left the room with a resumption of his old inscrutable demeanor. It was the look that Tadros had learned to fear. “Drive me to the Savoy,” he said to his chauffeur. Lord Roane had reserved one small room on the first floor of the hotel as an office, and here he transacted such business matters as came under his jurisdiction. Kāra found him unoccupied, and Roane, who knew his visitor but slightly, greeted the man with cordial politeness.{181} “Pray be seated, Prince,” said he, offering a chair; “I am entirely at your service.” The other bowed coldly. “I fear my mission may prove somewhat disagreeable to you, my lord,” he began, in quiet, even tones. Roane gave him a shrewd glance. “Ah, I hear that my son is largely indebted to you for losses in gambling,” he returned, thinking that he understood Kāra’s errand. “So far, it is merely a rumor that has reached me; but if you come to me to plead that case, I beg to assure you that I am in no way responsible for Consinor’s debts of honor.” The Egyptian shrugged his shoulders as a Frenchman might have done. “That is another matter, sir, which I do not care to discuss at this time,” he answered. “My present business is to obtain your consent to marry your granddaughter.” Roane was startled with amazement. “Aneth! You wish to marry Aneth?” he asked, as if he could not have heard aright. “Yes, my lord.” So confident was the prince’s tone that Lord Roane, although much unnerved by its suddenness, began involuntarily to consider the proposition. The fellow was handsome and dignified and reputed to be as rich as Crœsus; but the Englishman had a natural antipathy to foreigners, especially the dark-skinned ones. The idea of giving Aneth to an Egyptian was revolting.{182} “Ahem! This is indeed a surprise, Prince,” he said, haltingly. “The child is hardly old enough yet to think of marriage.” Kāra did not reply to this observation. “Have you—ah—approached her with this proposal as yet?” inquired Roane, after a few moments’ reflection. “I have, sir.” “And what did she say?” “She refused to marry me, giving as her reason the fact that she does not love me,” was the calm reply. Roane stared at him. “Then why the devil do you come to me?” he demanded, angrily. “Because the girl must not be allowed to choose for herself,” said Kāra. “Must not, sir?” “Decidedly not, Lord Roane. Too much depends upon her refusal. At present your granddaughter stands disgraced in the eyes of all the world, because of that dishonest father, who, as you remarked a moment ago, owes me ten thousand pounds.” “Aneth disgraced!” cried Roane, indignantly; “by no means, sir! Even your vile insinuations cannot injure that pure and innocent girl. But Consinor has gone away, and his daughter is now under my personal protection. I will see that she is accorded the respect and consideration to which she is entitled, despite her father’s misdeeds.”{183} “Such an assertion, my lord, is, under the circumstances, ridiculous,” replied Kāra, with a composure equal to the other’s irritation. “In the near future, when you are yourself disgraced and imprisoned, who will then be left to protect your granddaughter’s good name?” Roane uttered a roar of exasperation. “You infernal scoundrel!” he exclaimed, “how dare you come here to browbeat and insult me! Leave my presence, sir!” “I think you will be glad to hear more,” remarked Kāra, without changing his position. “Perhaps you are not aware that your robbery of the Government through the contractor, McFarland, is fully known to me.” Roane fell back in his chair, white and trembling. “It’s a lie!” he muttered. “It is not a lie,” said the imperturbable Egyptian. “The proofs are all in my hands. I hold your receipt to McFarland for the stolen money.” Roane glared at him, but had not a word to reply. He felt like a rat in a trap. From the most unexpected source this blow had fallen upon him when least expected, and already he bitterly regretted his lapse from honesty. “The Egyptian Government, when it learns the facts,” continued Kāra, “will show you no mercy. Even Lord Cromer will insist upon your punishment, for he will resent any embezzlement in office that would{184} bring the English colony here into disrepute. You must be aware of your danger without the necessity of my calling your attention to the fact; so that you have, absolutely, no hope of escape except through my clemency.” “What do you mean?” asked the old nobleman, hoarsely. “That at present the secret is in my sole possession. It need never be disclosed. Give me Aneth in marriage, and you will not only secure your safety, but I will see that you want for nothing in the future. I am wealthy enough to promise this.” “The girl has refused you.” “Never mind. You will force her to accept me.” “No, by God, I will not!” cried Roane, springing to his feet. “Hell and all its imps shall not induce me to drag that innocent child to my own level. I am a felon because I am an ass, and an ass because I have no moral stamina; but even then, my heart is not as black as yours, Prince Kāra!” The Egyptian listened unmoved. “The matter deserves more careful consideration,” said he. “Sentiment is very pretty when it does not conflict with personal safety. An examination of your case reveals comfort and prosperity on the one hand, disgrace and prison on the other.” “They weigh nothing against Aneth’s happiness,” returned the old man, promptly. “Expose me as soon as you like, sir, for nothing will ever induce me to save{185} myself from the fruits of my folly at the expense of that poor girl. And now, go!” Kāra smiled with quiet scorn. “It is quite refreshing to witness your indignation,” said he. “If it were equaled by your honesty, you would have no reason to fear me.” “Nor do I fear you now,” retorted Lord Roane, defiantly. “Do your worst, you infamous nigger, for you cannot bribe me in any way to abet your shameful proposals.” Kāra reddened at the epithet, but did not reply until he had risen and started to move toward the door. Then he half turned and said: “It will enable you to appreciate your danger better, Lord Roane, if I tell you that I am but the instrument of an Egyptian woman named Hatatcha, whose life and happiness you once carelessly ruined. She did not forget, and her vengeance against you and yours will be terrible, believe me, unless you engage me to defeat it instead of accomplishing it. My personal interest induces me to bargain with you. What do you say, my lord? Shall we discuss this subject more fully, or do you wish me to go?” Roane was staring at him with affrighted eyes. A thousand recollections flashed through his mind at the mention of Hatatcha’s name, attended by a thousand terrors as he remembered his treatment of her. So lost was he in fear and wonder that Kāra had to speak again.{186} “Shall I go, my lord?” “Yes,” was the answer. It seemed to be wrenched from the old man’s throbbing breast by a generosity that conquered his cowardice. Kāra frowned. He was disappointed. But further argument was useless, and he went away, leaving Roane fairly stunned by the disclosures of the interview.{187} <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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