As the KÓtwal rose to go to the door, the old Khan whispered to his son, "We can seize him, Fazil, if needs be, and put a dagger into him. The man is not fit to live. He is even now plotting something; I know it, trust him not, my son."

"If needs be, father, I am ready; but no violence yet," replied Fazil; "wait till the Wuzeer's son is announced."

"The man has been sent for," said JehÁndar Beg, returning to his seat, "and will be here presently." He had given his own directions to the guard outside to stand by the door, yet no nearer than was needful for precaution.

The Lalla was not long detained. Almost as JehÁndar Beg had seated himself—this time a little nearer to Fazil—he opened the door, which was closed after him, and advanced towards the party in a courtly but respectful manner. Fazil hardly recognized the man, so completely had rest and good clothes improved him. His face was clean shaved, his moustache and hair were trimmed and oiled. His small turban tied neatly in the Nustalik fashion of the imperial court, which was strange at Beejapoor. The clothes he wore, though somewhat too large, were yet clean white muslin; and a handsome Persian shawl over his shoulders, proved that his personal comfort had been well attended to under JehÁndar Beg's orders.

"I trust you are better now," said Fazil to the Lalla, kindly, as, after his very courtly advance, in which he bowed his head very low, turned out his toes very wide, and put his elbows as far behind him as possible, he sat down much after the manner of JehÁndar Beg, on the left hand of the KÓtwal.

"My lord's house will prosper for his kindness to a poor stranger," said the Lalla. "What more delightful to exercise, what more grateful to God, than hospitality?" and he quoted a verse from the poet Saadi on the subject, which he followed by another and another.

"Enough, friend," said JehÁndar Beg, laughing. "No need to prove your scholarly attainments; they are not needed at present. Now, we all bid you not to fear; but tell us, in plain terms, what happened before this brave young gentleman rescued you last night."

The Lalla was not very clear as to what course he was to take; he, too, was watching his game.

"My lord, noble sirs, they were Gosais who found me in the temple, and ye are Moslem gentlemen, or nobles."

"Very true," said Fazil. "Now, look at me carefully, and try if you cannot remember me as one who lifted you up after you had been robbed."

"Ah, yes, noble sir, now I do remember," cried the Lalla; "I owe my life to you, sir, my life. When I screamed, you must have heard me. I pray you, let me kiss your feet."

The action was an ordinary one of gratitude, yet enough to admit of Fazil's passing a well-known signal of silence to the man as he removed his hands, while the old Khan cried grimly——

"Make your reverence to your God, if you have one, not to my son. Is he an idol, that you bow down to him?"

"I mean no offence; pardon me, my lord," said the Lalla, humbly. "I was only——"

The opening of the door interrupted the Lalla's speech, which would have been very flowery and hyperbolic.

An attendant entered and spoke to the KÓtwal. "My lord, Kowas Khan has arrived; is he to be admitted?"

"Tell him I kiss his hands; I am engaged with these worthy gentlemen," returned JehÁndar Beg, looking round; "and pray ask him to excuse me for a short time. If he would like a hooka, or coffee, or sherbet, let him have all he desires."

"And his attendants?"

"Let any of proper rank sit with him, the rest can remain in the outer court."

"Very good, my lord," said the servant, and he shut the door.

During this interruption, a very pretty piece of pantomime had been executed between the eyes of Fazil and the Lalla. It would have been more complete, perhaps, could Fazil have used his hands also, but he dare not. As it was, however, the Lalla seemed to understand all that was required; and the delightfully comprehensive manner in which he half shut his eyes, bowed his head, and smiled blandly though almost imperceptibly, would have been fit example for any diplomatist. Nothing could be seen by the KÓtwal, for, in order to speak to the servant, it had been requisite for him to lean behind the Lalla's back.

JehÁndar Beg lost two points by his movement; one we have seen, the other was a more serious one. For as he moved, the letters which had been given to him by Moro Trimmul's agent, and which he had put into a side-pocket of his dress, protruded a little as he reached over, and, when he settled himself again, remained projecting half out of that receptacle. He was not aware of it, but they attracted Fazil's immediate attention. These he must have at any risk—for he had seen the seal of the rebel Rajah on them—and he again roused his father by the short cough they had agreed upon.

"Now, Lallajee, tell us all. You see you are among friends; but we are hungry for fruit—flowers do not satisfy us," said JehÁndar Beg, jocosely rubbing his hands, and speaking in Persian, his own language.

"My lords, what can I say?" returned the Lalla, simply. "I am what you see, a poor scholar. Delhi is full of such, and we are starving. Every one said, 'Go to the King of the Dekhan; he is wise, he is generous, he is accomplished; he is a patron of literature.' So your poor servant prepared two copies of verses; one in Sanscrit, in which the third letter of every line is the same, T——"

"Mashalla!" said JehÁndar Beg, laughing, "Te-tum—te te, te-ta-te to, Te ta-hah! Like that, Lallajee? O yes; our Brahmuns here make odes, in which all the words end in skri, pri, dri; or else msh, kshsh, rshsh-dshush. One would think all the mud in the Dekhan was squelching under their feet; but go on."

"My lord is pleased to be witty," returned the Lalla, with a bland smile, turning towards his host and joining hands. "Then I had a Persian ode. It was nothing—nothing—a poor thing altogether; only, if my lords wish, I could repeat it. Methinks there was some elegance about it, if nothing else."

"God forbid!" returned the KÓtwal, echoed by Fazil and the Khan. "Go on."

"Well, my lords, as you wish," continued the Lalla. "Some other day I may be more fortunate; and, with your permission, I will resume my history. I had saved a few gold pieces, and I had enough to keep my family for a year. I left them in my house, and I have gradually made my way hither by Ahmednugger and Sholapoor. That is all."

"Go on," said Fazil. "How didst thou get here from Sholapoor?"

"I came with some Gosais, as they appeared to be, who met me at a village, Al—, Al—. I forget—just after you cross the river Bheema."

"Almella," suggested the Khan, interrupting him.

"Yes, that was it. They said they knew of a comfortable lodging in a temple or a mutt; but if we arrived late we must be content with whatever shelter we could get. I do not know, sirs, whether they purposely delayed me by the way—for, indeed, the roads were very muddy; but we arrived after sunset, and they took me to a temple of Bhowani, in a grove. So long as it was light the place did not look amiss for temporary shelter; but when it grew dark, and the wind began to moan in the trees, I thought, sirs, that the men's looks changed, and—and I began to tremble, yet unable to help myself—as one lies bound sometimes in a dream.

"What could your slave do, sirs? At length they talked together in an unknown tongue, and all fell upon me, strangled me, and took what money I had, and my clothes, and I knew no more till this valiant gentleman and some one else roused me and took me to a guard-house, where I was well cared for."

"Why do you tell lies?" said the KÓtwal, who, though unable to make objection to the very probable story which the Lalla had invented, felt conscious there was no truth in it. "Ah, man with a burnt father, tell the truth; we are no enemies of thine! Do not eat dirt at our hands! Why did the Shah's secretary visit thee at the temple? Speak; it shall be well for thee. We are all friends of his Majesty's here."

A very slight compression of Fazil's under lip was sufficient guide for the Lalla. "The King's secretary? God defend us!" cried the Lalla, innocently; "what should I have to do with the secretary? Ah, sirs, why this oppression of a poor slave like me—a stranger without friends? Did you see the secretary when you came to rescue me, noble sir?"

"Not I, indeed; thou wast lying among the ashes, senseless enough. All we heard was a scream, which sounded like one in distress, and we entered the court," said Fazil, simply.

The KÓtwal looked from one to the other, but he could find out no sign of intelligence. He was fairly puzzled.

"Then why that respectable Duffadar's account of what you said to him in the guard-house?" cried JehÁndar Beg, jerking himself suddenly round so as to confront the Lalla, while he seconded the movement by an emphatic blow on the floor. "What about Pahar Singh?"

As he did so, his sleeve caught one of the letters projecting from his pocket, which flew into the centre of the group. Fazil picked it up, and returned it with a polite bow, but not before he had distinctly seen the seal of the Rajah Sivaji BhÓslay upon it, and the memorandum in the corner, which JehÁndar Beg had written for the Wuzeer, and marked private. JehÁndar Beg's confusion on receiving the letter could not be concealed, and Fazil felt that, having seen what was not intended for him, he was in greater danger than before.

"What about Pahar Singh?" echoed the Lalla, who had observed the confused expression of JehÁndar Beg's countenance, and seen also what he was quite familiar with, the rebel Rajah's seal. "My lord, your servant heard a great deal of him, as he came here through the country. Everybody, from Ahmednugger to Sholapoor, spoke of Pahar Singh, and warned me of Pahar Singh, but the Gosais did not appear to fear him, and said he never touched companies of travelling beggars. I remember now," continued the Lalla, dreamily, "I think some one asked me whether Pahar Singh had robbed me. Perhaps I said yes, I don't know; I might have said anything, good sirs, for I was like one in a hideous dream; and this robber everybody appeared to know:—in the bazars, in temples, mutts, serais—Pahar Singh, Pahar Singh—nothing but Pahar Singh all the way. I heard enough of him."

"Thou liest, Lalla. I have warned thee once, and again warn thee—beware of the torture!" cried JehÁndar Beg savagely, and from between his closed teeth; "a word and——"

"JehÁndar Beg," said Afzool Khan, interrupting, "you and I are old friends, and I am your guest, so also is this man. Good or evil of him I know not, neither do I care: but torture shall not be used; and so far as I know or have seen, he says nothing but the truth. We are helpless enough here, my son and I, but we will not allow him to be touched with any of your vile instruments. Question him otherwise as you please, it is your duty."

The tone of the old Khan's voice, habitually stern, seemed more so than usual to JehÁndar Beg. Should he resent it and call in his men? It was the thought of a moment. He would have done this, but that he knew the Wuzeer's son sat without; he, at least, was faithful to Fazil, and might not object to prove his devotion to the old Khan, in the hope of its doing service in his suit for Zyna.

"Khan Sahib——" returned JehÁndar Beg, putting up his joined hands.

He could not finish the sentence. Fazil, on pretence of arranging his shawl about his shoulders, threw it with a sudden gesture over the KÓtwal's head, and closed it behind, throwing JehÁndar Beg on his face, while, at the same instant, a dagger flashed from the old Khan's waist-band, and was held by him close to the KÓtwal's heart, and so that the point actually pricked the skin.

"Take out those letters, Lalla, from his pocket. In the name of the Prophet—if one sound escape him, father—strike deep and hard. Here is another traitor as bad as him we know of. There, hold his legs, Lalla. Wah, wah! thou art a noble fellow; fear not, friend—we are not like the Jogi. There, that will do; and well was it done," continued Fazil, as the Lalla rapidly passed an end of his own scarf round the KÓtwal's arms, and tied it in a knot behind his back; "he is safe now. Where is his ring? give it to me, quick."

"Beware, JehÁndar Beg," growled Afzool Khan, who leant over the prostrate man without altering his position, as the Lalla loosed the ring, "I do not want to kill thee, good fellow; but, by Alla, if thou strivest ever so little, this knife will go through thee. I am no friend to traitors, as thou well knowest; so keep quiet."

It was a bold stroke; but in such emergencies desperate efforts are generally the most successful. Fazil took the KÓtwal's signet-ring, and went to the door. The slave Jaffur looked at it for an instant, bowed his head, and crossed his arms; while Fazil, looking round the hall, beckoned to his friend, who, attended by some twenty of his followers, sat upon the dais.

Kowas Khan arose instantly, and with him the men, who made their salutations, and advanced towards the door. The slaves believed that the Wuzeer's son had been sent for, and stood aside to let him pass: and as the young men embraced in the doorway, Fazil whispered to his friend to disarm them, and hold the door. A pressure of the hand was the sure reply.

"I will return with my shawl," said Kowas Khan aloud, going back towards his seat, "and I will follow you directly."

A moment afterwards Fazil and the Khan heard a few low cries, a struggle, and a slight clash of arms. The surprise had been complete. The slaves were disarmed, thrust into the Wuzeer's private room, and the doors closed.

"Fear not, noble friends," cried the cheery voice of the Wuzeer's son, as he stood in the doorway, "ye are safe, and no one is hurt. I have five hundred men of my own body-guard in the courts, on foot and horseback; and, Inshalla! we can hold the KÓtwallee against an army. May I come?"

"Ul-humd-ul-illa!" cried the Khan and his son together, "hazar shookr, hazar shookr!—(A thousand thanks!) O holy 'Geesoo Duraz!' I vow to thee a thousand lights, and a chain of gold for the canopy of thy blessed sepulchre," continued the Khan, devoutly.

"Come, friend and brother," said Fazil; "come here and see what treachery doth in the most trusted places—nay, fear us not, JehÁndar Beg," he continued; "we are not arbiters in your destiny—it rests in higher hands than ours. Father, take away the knife from his heart."

"I don't know that I ought," said the old Khan, grimly. "I shall keep it ready, and near thee, JehÁndar Beg. I trust thee not, my friend."

"You are more lucky than I am," returned the KÓtwal, sadly. "When a man's fate deserts him, he need not struggle—he is helpless," and he quoted a verse from the Gulistan to that effect.

"Shabash! a scholarly quotation," said the Lalla, gravely. "And now, gentlemen, if ye will trust a poor Mutsuddee, who has some experience, we will examine this worthy gentleman's pockets; and if he has any private writing-cases, something might be found in them also."

"Peace, Lalla!" cried Fazil, sternly; "what we do concerns thee not. But thou hast been faithful and intelligent, and we will see thee rewarded."

What was found in the search will presently appear; meanwhile, we need to see how those assembled with the King, in his royal court, were employed.