Nearly a year had passed since Charteris and Gerrard had entered into the agreement which was to regulate their rivalry for the hand of Honour Cinnamond, but the end of the six months' armistice had arrived without any renewal of hostilities. It was tacitly recognised between them that it would be a mistake to conduct operations by letter, and neither of them was in a position to ask for leave. When Charteris returned to Darwan, he found that the Granthi subordinate left in charge had improved the shining hour by adding to the number of his wives a daughter of the principal robber-clan of the district. His official position gave him the means of doing many little kindnesses to his new relations, and with their concurrence he arranged to gladden Charteris's eye on his return by the spectacular destruction of an old disused fortress, the clan's headquarters being transferred to a larger post in a more sequestered district. Unfortunately, in following up a raid, Charteris tracked the raiders to their lair, and as they thought their kinsman-in-law had betrayed them, and retaliated by informing on him, the whole matter came out. Thereupon ensued a change of personnel in Charteris's staff, the destruction of another fortress, and the persistent harrying of such members of the clan as declined to come in and submit—all of which occupied time and thought so fully that matters of sentiment were forced to take a subordinate place in the ruler's mind.

As for Gerrard, he was beginning to hope that Agpur was inclined to settle down under the Regents. Each month that passed without an insurrection was so much to the good, and brought nearer the day when Kharrak Singh would rule in safety in his own name. State affairs followed a well-defined course—almost a stereotyped one. When Sher Singh proposed any measure, the Rani objected to it, and if Gerrard thought that it ought to be passed, it fell to him to argue her into acquiescence. If the Rani originated a scheme, Sher Singh was the obstruction, and had to be coaxed into good humour before the project could be laid before the Durbar, who would have squabbled placidly to all eternity had they been admitted to an open share in the differences of their betters. Still, Gerrard was learning by this time how to handle his unruly team, and was not without a sanguine belief that the Rani would soon know something about the use of money and the management of an army, and that Sher Singh was really settling down in his subordinate place with something like contentment. Their mutual opposition, he thought, was becoming rather formal than actual, and might even die down in time. But Gerrard was no more omniscient in estimating the future yield of his poultry-yard than other people, and it took little to set the two protagonists, whom he had looked upon as reformed characters, thirsting for each other's blood again.

Sher Singh's father-in-law died, leaving no son, and it was the natural thing that his fief of Adamkot should descend to his daughter's husband. The Prince pointed out, very reasonably, that it was hardly suitable for one of the Regents to possess no stake in the country beyond a rented house in Agpur, while the other enjoyed the revenues of several wealthy villages. With Adamkot secured to him, he would be well provided for when his allowance as Regent ceased in time to come, instead of being obliged to linger on as a pensioner at his younger brother's court. The Rani objected strongly to the proposal, and flung herself into the struggle tooth and nail. The only hope of keeping Sher Singh loyal was to make him strictly dependent upon his allowance, she declared. With Adamkot in his hands, he would be above the reach of want, and could withdraw thither if anything displeased him, and make it a centre of intrigue against the state. It was the bulwark of Agpur against the most unruly part of Darwan, and he was quite capable of betraying his country, and leading an army of Darwanis against the capital.

The Rani's patriotic anxiety would have appealed to Gerrard more strongly than it did had there not penetrated to him, among the bits of palace gossip which Munshi Somwar Mal contrived to pick up for his employer's benefit, the news that she was determined to secure the fief for the brother of one of her favourite attendants, and had gone so far as to promise it to him secretly. This she had no right whatever to do, and Gerrard prepared for a contest. Sher Singh must have Adamkot, but his possession of it should be tempered by the condition that he was not to reside there for more than ten days without the Rajah's permission.

The struggle between the Regents became known in the city almost as soon as at the Residency, and the army took advantage of the tension to demand an increase of pay, holding riotous assemblies at a spot where their menacing shouts were distinctly audible from the Rani's apartments. Before Gerrard could get the Durbar's consent to use the guard to disperse them, the Rani had sent out her scribe to inquire into their grievances, and the poor old man, set upon and bullied by the leading spirits, promised them in his mistress's name all they wanted, before he was allowed to escape with torn clothes and trailing turban. But this again was a matter in which the Rani had no power to act. Gerrard was firmly fixed in his resolve not to increase the pay of the swashbucklers who swaggered about the city girt with costly shawls and decked with jewelled necklaces, as though they were fresh from a profitable campaign. "Every Sepoy is a Sirdar at least, and every Sowar a Rajah!" was the envious comment of the peaceable citizens who endured their insolence, and before this last palace-squabble, it had been a bright dream of Gerrard's to embody the civil inhabitants into some kind of militia, and with their help and that of the guard to reduce the army sternly to its proper place. Accordingly, he devoted an interview of considerable length to explaining to the Rani that Partab Singh's treasure, now much reduced in amount, must no longer be drawn upon in minor emergencies, but kept for the tug of war which might be expected when Kharrak Singh came of age. The Rani listened with apparent submission, and he was beginning to congratulate himself on her meekness, when she posed him by suddenly suggesting a bargain. Let the troops have their increase of pay, and Sher Singh might have Adamkot. It needed another long argument to prove to her that there was no question of a compromise, and when she had been forced to realise, with a very bad grace, that the increased pay would not be granted, she still remained obstinate on the matter of Sher Singh's fief. Gerrard was worried by the delay, since it had been intended to invest the Prince formally on the occasion of Kharrak Singh's birthday, which was close at hand, but he resigned himself to the prospect of a succession of further interviews, destined, of course, to end in the collapse of the Rani's opposition.

The reception in honour of Kharrak Singh's birthday, a very brilliant affair, was held in a pavilion erected for the purpose in the courtyard of the palace, since Sher Singh was still debarred entrance to the building itself. On the dais at the upper end was a silver-gilt arm-chair for the little Rajah, flanked by plain silver chairs for Gerrard and Sher Singh, and behind the three chairs was a curtain, which shielded the Rani and her attendants from the public gaze. Gerrard was conscious of an unusual amount of whispering and excitement behind the curtain, but it did not occur to him that this had any special significance until the speeches were over, and those present came up to offer their congratulations and their nazars. First of all came Sher Singh, as the foremost subject of the realm, with an offering of gold coins, which it was Kharrak Singh's duty graciously to accept and retain. But to Gerrard's dismay, and the horror of all the spectators, the boy drew back as his brother approached, and folding his arms across his chest, sat like a little cross-legged image of obstinacy, mutely declining to notice either the offering or the offerer. Whispered remonstrances were useless, and Sher Singh, after waiting for a moment in vain, cast the nazar contemptuously on the gold-worked carpet, and turned away with a face convulsed with rage. "The child has been put up to this!" he muttered angrily, and stalked down the gangway, between the rows of Sirdars and notables. Gerrard beckoned hastily to the next man, mentally resolving to get the durbar over as quickly as possible, and then hurry after Sher Singh and try to placate him, but to his horror, Kharrak Singh remained immovable, and declined to notice the offering now held forth to him. Remonstrances came from behind the curtain at this, and Gerrard gathered that the boy had improved on his mother's instructions; but as if an evil spirit had taken possession of him, he sat hugging himself tightly, finding, apparently, a malicious pleasure in the perturbation he was causing. It was highly probable that the Rani had desired him to be specially gracious to the military officers who would bring up their swords to be touched when the old councillors had passed, but Gerrard was not minded to let matters go further. The durbar was hastily broken up, with the excuse that the Rajah must be ill, and the Rani and her crowd of chattering excited women conducted back, with all the usual paraphernalia of sheets held before and behind and on either side of them, to their own apartments. Gerrard allowed them barely time to get back there before demanding an audience, but in that brief interval he heard that the Rani had that morning distributed to the army the monthly allowance which had just been paid to her, and the jewels in which she had invested her savings since her widowhood. It might be considered a valiant effort to compensate them for the breaking of her promise, but Gerrard knew that her tradesmen's bills would have to be settled by the Durbar in consequence. The lady was clearly incorrigible, and he braced himself for the struggle.

The Rani displayed no penitence when, after much delay, and many complaints as to the unreasonableness of the request, she consented to receive Gerrard, but he detected a trace of alarm in her voice when she referred to Kharrak Singh's treatment of the councillors. Evidently her son had gone further than she wished, for it was no part of her plan to drive the Durbar into making common cause with Sher Singh. Gerrard seized upon the opening thus afforded him, and made skilful use of it. The harm done must be instantly repaired, and the offended notables placated with suitable gifts and assurances, if Kharrak Singh's rule was to endure. The Rani assented to this, though with reluctance; but when Gerrard proceeded to say that the first person approached must be Sher Singh, and that the Rani's peace-offering to him must be the fief of Adamkot, she refused to hear another word, and when he persisted, intimated that the audience was at an end. He took out his watch.

"Maharaj," he said, sending his voice loudly in the direction in which, as the rustling behind the curtain informed him, she was withdrawing in disdain, "I give you five minutes. If by that time you have not put your seal to the sanad,[1] and given it to the Rajah to bring to me, that we may ride together to Kunwar Sher Singh's house with it, I leave Agpur, and tell Colonel Antony Sahib that it is impossible for me to fulfil my duties here."

The rustling ceased, and it was clear that the Rani had paused. Then there broke out a tumult among her women, some evidently entreating her to yield, and others advising that she should let the insolent Feringhee go, and take the reins of power into her own hands, secure of the support of the army.

"Two minutes gone!" said Gerrard.

The Rani tried to temporise. "Let not Jirad Sahib fit the shoes of impatience to the feet of offence," she said blandly. "Is he not ruler here? But the wise ruler is he who acts with the dwellers behind the curtain on his side."

"Three minutes gone!" said Gerrard.

"I have set Jirad Sahib's foot on my head because it was the will of my son's father," cried the Rani passionately; "but to that of Sher Singh I will not bow."

An approving chorus from the attendants answered her, interrupted by
Gerrard's reminder that four minutes had passed.

"What is it you command me to do?" she demanded desperately.

"To seal the sanad and send the Rajah to accompany me with it to Kunwar Sher Singh's house at once, that he may invest him without delay—then to summon another durbar, so that men's minds may be set at ease. The five minutes are over." Gerrard pushed back his chair with a harsh grating on the marble pavement, and rose impressively. "I leave Agpur in half an hour, and I trust your Highness and the Prince will be able to settle matters peaceably."

He took two or three steps, and then her voice called him back. "I will ratify the sanad, but let Jirad Sahib carry it himself to him who is to enjoy it."

"The Rajah takes it or no one," said Gerrard. The women broke out into cries of indignation at his brutality, but their mistress knew how far she could go.

"The seal is affixed," she said, her voice trembling with anger; "and Jirad Sahib has leave to depart, for which he did not see fit to wait just now."

The last word was undeniably hers, and Gerrard hoped that the recollection of his breach of etiquette might support her in her consciousness of defeat. Kharrak Singh came pouting out from behind the curtain, carrying the document as if it had been a snake or a scorpion, and after running his eye over it, Gerrard hurried him out. He had given his orders before the interview, and in a very short time the procession was in motion, and what was even better, Kharrak Singh in a good temper. He was riding his father's great state elephant, with its very finest jewelled trappings, and Gerrard accompanied him on another elephant of less magnificence, while a third carried the patent of investiture in a gilt box, and the khilat or dress of honour which was to be conferred on Sher Singh at the same time. It would have been beyond the power of the boy to continue to pout in such circumstances, and as he mounted, Kharrak Singh shrilly promised his pet troop of the guard new coats of yellow satin. The procession wound gallantly through the narrow streets to Sher Singh's house, but before the door was reached, the officials who had been sent forward to announce to the Prince the honour that his sovereign intended to confer upon him came back with long faces. Sher Singh was not at home. In fact, he had hurried back after his humiliation at the durbar, called for his horse, and ridden forth on a journey with a handful of attendants—to Adamkot, so the servants believed. The blow was so heavy that Gerrard refused at first to believe in its reality, and sent messengers to the city gates. The news they brought served only to confirm the first report. The Regent and his band had passed through two hours before, bound for Adamkot in hot haste. Gerrard ordered the procession to return, and it retraced its steps slowly, while he laid his plans for saving the situation. There were innumerable things to be arranged when he returned to the palace, and he summoned the Rani's scribe, and desired him to acquaint his mistress with what was being done, in order to avoid the loss of time which would be caused by another personal interview.

"I leave early to-morrow for Adamkot to bring Sher Singh back," he said. "He must come, but I hope he will yield to entreaty and come peaceably. I take with me three of the state elephants, with sufficient troops to form an imposing escort, and at the same time to make opposition useless. A letter couched in terms of the utmost friendliness, conferring upon the Prince the title of Prop-of-the-Kingdom, will be ready in a short time for her Highness's signature, and I shall present it with the patent of investiture and the khilat. Other khilats are being prepared in readiness for a durbar to-night, at which the Rajah will confer them upon the councillors offended this morning. If her Highness objects to these arrangements, you have my authority to point out to her that unless Sher Singh is placated immediately, the very gravest consequences are certain to ensue."

"Does his Highness accompany your honour upon this journey?" asked the old man.

Gerrard shook his head. Kharrak Singh's presence was highly desirable as an act of atonement, but if he came, the Rani and all her women must come too, and the journey would require a week instead of two days. "No," he said, "I trust Kunwar Sher Singh will return with me, and we will then arrange a feast and a special reception in his honour."

The scribe salaamed and departed, and Gerrard gave a few moments to reviewing his plans. He was taking with him the most persistently disaffected of the troops, so that the Rani would be well able to hold the palace with the guard should there be any outbreak on the part of the remainder during his absence. The councillors would be mollified by the honours conferred upon them, and also by the Rani's submission in the matter of Sher Singh's fief, and as no contentious business could be transacted while he was away, they ought to be able to keep the peace. It seemed as though all dangers had been provided against, and Gerrard's spirits rose insensibly. Seizing a sheet of paper, he scribbled a hasty note to Charteris.

"If you are anywhere in the Adamkot direction, infringe our frontier and look me up," he concluded, after sketching roughly the state of affairs. "I have always heard of it as the most tiger-ish spot in the country, and Shere Sing may well stand us a hunt in return for all the trouble he has given me. Among the hotties[2] I am taking with me for purposes of display, I have included old Pertaub Sing's trained hunter, so we ought to see some sport. By the bye, when is your appeal for my help coming? Just wait till this little business is off my hands, and I'll be with you in a jiffey."

This sent off, and the Rani's consent to his arrangements received and acknowledged, there was the durbar to attend, at which Kharrak Singh conferred his khilats and received his nazars in the most angelic manner, and it was zealously whispered about that Sher Singh had left the city under a complete misconception of the love and affection entertained for him by his brother, which would be proved by the honourable embassy sent to command his return, and the gifts that it would carry. One of these was to be the store of gold hidden by Charteris in the Residency precincts, which Gerrard had to disinter and pack for transport when he was left alone at night, so that a very small amount of sleep was all that he enjoyed before it was time to start in the morning. Kharrak Singh appeared on the chief state elephant to ride with him out of the city, and insisted on his coming up into the howdah. Late hours, early rising, grief at parting from Gerrard, and remorse for his own share in bringing this about, had combined to make the boy's frame of mind very far from ideal, and he alternated between threatening to behead Gerrard if he went, and hanging round his neck entreating to be taken with him. When the moment of parting came, his hands had to be forcibly unclasped, and he subsided on his cushions a limp and sobbing little bundle, only restrained from screams of passion by receiving leave to open the wrappers of any illustrated papers if Gerrard's mail came in during his absence.

The journey to Adamkot was not eventful. The two highly ornamented guns which accompanied the troops stuck once or twice in crossing rivers, and had to be hauled out by the elephants, and there was continuous murmuring among the soldiers against the speed of the march and the prohibition of plundering, but Gerrard did not trouble himself. Sher Singh was travelling light and fast, and it was natural that he should gain upon them, as inquiries at the various villages on the route assured them he was doing, but if the troops could do in three days what the fugitive had accomplished in two, it would be proof positive that no time had been lost in repairing the injury done him. When they camped on the second night, it was certain that this would be achieved, and Gerrard went to bed in good spirits after making the round of his outposts. The next day would see, he hoped, a grave difficulty settled by prompt grappling with it, and would bring him the breezy company of Charteris, and possibly the promise of good sport. His sleep was dreamless until an overmastering impression that tidings of disaster were arriving hotfoot awoke him. The sound of distant horses' feet was in his ears as he raised his head from the pillow, but when he sat up and listened he could hear nothing. His servant and the orderly sleeping close at hand protested in injured tones when he called to them that he had been dreaming, and so did the sentries supposed to be keeping watch on the outskirts of the camp, to whom he sent an inquiry without much hope of success.

"If any messenger arrives from Agpur, wake me and bring him here at once," he said as he lay down again. "Why, what a fool I am! The sound was coming the opposite way, I am sure. It must have been a dream."

No messenger arrived, and the rest of the march to Adamkot was made the next day. It was almost sunset when Gerrard drew rein and looked up at the great fort of reddish brick towering above him. He was riding in the bed of the river Tindar, here more than a mile wide, and now dry save for one small channel. When the river was in flood, Adamkot must stand on its very brink, but at present its sheer cliff rose from an expanse of sand and mud. It occupied the point of a tongue of high land formed by the river and a ravine, also dry, and a deep ditch guarded it at the only side on which level ground approached the walls. He wondered whether it would be necessary to make a toilsome march up the side ravine to reach the entrance, but Badan Hazari, pointing to a gateway at the top of the cliff, reached by a winding ascent from the foot, told him that this was the usual means of approach when the river was low. When it was high, a drawbridge was lowered over the ditch at the back. Gerrard sent off, therefore, his selected embassy, bearing a friendly letter from himself as well as that signed by the Rani, and inviting Sher Singh to receive him, that he might deliver the gracious gifts of the Rajah.

The embassy wound up the long path, entered the gateway, and returned, without Sher Singh, but with an elderly fakir, who was introduced as the Prince's private physician. With many apologies and compliments, he informed Gerrard that his master, cut to the heart by the Rajah's behaviour, had taken to his bed as soon as he reached home, and was too ill to be disturbed. He had turned his face to the wall, said the old man dramatically, and though he had laid the letters on his brow and eyes in token of gratitude, he had not even strength to read them at present. Would his beloved friend Jirad Sahib pardon his seeming discourtesy, and return to the capital, whither he would follow as soon as the life-giving influences of his sovereign's kindness had renewed his spirit? Gerrard expressed his sorrow at the Prince's illness, but offered to visit him and read the letters aloud, at the same time investing him with the khilat. But this was refused. Sher Singh's wounded spirit could not endure the sight of a stranger at present, it seemed, and he could only express his deep regret that for so unworthy an object Jirad Sahib should have interrupted his important labours, and entreat him to waste no more of his valuable time. There was not even a word said of lodging him and his escort in the fort for the night. Gerrard's anger rose.

"I came to see Sher Singh, and here I stay till I have seen him," he said. "We will pitch here, below the gateway, and see which of us will tire first."

[1] Grant, patent.

[2] Hathis, elephants.