EX-KING OF AFGHANISTAN

But the chorus of the beggars in Kabul City was
drowned by the merry laughter of the shopkeepers, the
clang of the craftsmen's hammers, the cry of the mule-
teers, and the caravan traders.

That is Kabul, to-day and yesterday, from the days of
Moses to the days when it saw revolt once more raising
its head like a serpent in the very bazaar which houses
such horrors.

Amanullah went there often.

He retraced his childhood's footsteps into the inner
labyrinths of the city which held such mysteries, such
wealth, and such poverty. The horrors did not strike
him as out of the ordinary. He accepted them inevitably
as every Eastern man or woman accepts the worst
inflictions of disease.

He did not notice them.

He knew the wealth of the city as well as its poverty.
He knew that if danger were to come, it would come from
this strange and hidden cradle of vice and intrigue. He
came swaggering through the city, and he came in
disguise. He flaunted his bravery in the haunt of men
who, he knew, might not scruple to remove an Amir, and
he slunk through the streets after information, in the
guise of many of the creatures who made their way to
the capital on business or on pleasure bent.

Amanullah never over-estimated the power of the
throne to rule the people. He knew his people better
than any of his predecessors. He was a man among men,
and a warrior proved among the hardest of his men.
The time was to come when this knowledge of the evil,
twisted city was to be invaluable to him.

Events, however, moved slowly. For at least five
years after the unhappy embroilment of his troops with

75