“That is for me to decide,” replied Garrofat with a scowl.  “As I have already told you, my love for Azalia, and respect for the wishes of her dead parent, the wise Rajah Onalba, compel me to use every possible resource to insure her future happiness.  How better could I do this than by proving to the world that I have bestowed her upon the wisest of princes?  The table will be carried to your apartment, and I wish again to remind you that failure now means more than a whipping.  Though you shall have that too, for good measure.”

“Give yourself no concern on that head,” replied Bright-Wits boldly.  “For, by Allah, the whips are not yet braided which shall sting my shoulders through any device of thine.”

“Bravely said, my dear Bright-Wits,” cackled Doola.  “But be careful not to swallow any of the disks; your stomach might find them hard to digest.”

“Thrust not thy ugly nose into my affairs,” cried the prince, turning savagely upon Doola.  “And look to it that you find not in your own stomach two hands’ breadth of my dagger without your being put to the trouble of swallowing it or of digesting it thereafter.”  Then at a sign from Ablano he retired from the room.

During the next week, Bright-Wits spent much of his time on the solution of this latest problem.  While the prince was thus engaged, Ablano and Azalia held many consultations in the little pavilion under the trees.  More like father and child they seemed.  A secret understanding appeared to exist between them; which caused Bright-Wits many pangs of jealousy; despite the respect and affection in which he held his master the Holy Brahman.  He was certain that they were concealing something from him.  Yet when he tried to discover the mystery in their actions Azalia would but laugh at him; while Ablano gently chided his impatience, saying unto him, “All things are as Allah hath ordered.  It is but for us to await his meaning without impatience.  Yet be thou not cast down, for the end draweth nigh.”  Put off, but far from satisfied, Bright-Wits must needs be content.

Now all this time Garrofat and Doola were busy with a little scheme of their own that promised to remove one, and perhaps both, of these meddlesome strangers from the kingdom.

When the seventh day again came round, Bright-Wits repaired to the Audience Chamber and was considerably puzzled to find several hundred soldiers drawn up in the court.  Among them he discerned some of his own guards, distinguishable by their high crowned turbans.  His wonder was still further increased by the excessive good humour of Garrofat and his wily brother Doola.  Smilingly they waited while slaves bore in the great table; and with exclamations of delight greeted Bright-Wits as he demonstrated his success in mastering the great game of Onalba.

If the reader will cut out the little circular disks which he will find at the back of the book, and place them at random on the numbered spots, leaving number ten vacant for his first move, he may find Bright-Wits’ task to be less difficult than it looks.

CHAPTER VI