"O nobles, and well-wishers of the State!" cried the Secretary, in a strong, manly voice, "it is not mere ceremony for which ye have been called together this day; and it is not that the present urgent matters might not be disposed of by the Shah—may his splendour increase;—but in affairs of such moment, he would have the advice and assistance of older men, and of those who, for years past, have given their faith and their blood freely for the kingdom, and for his family; and surely nothing need be done in private, when ye, O Moslems! can be witnesses before God and the Prophet.

"Lo, friends in the faith! he hath called ye together because of those grievous rumours of treachery which prevail: and because of intrigues which have sown distrust between man and man in this city. Of these, two have been revealed to him by means little short of a miracle, and yet so true, that a child may understand them. Hear, then, what my lord the King will say to ye—listen!"

A low murmur arose through the assembly as men spoke in short, eager whispers to each other. Who was to be accused? To whom did these introductory remarks refer in particular? Many a secret traitor then sitting there, trembled upon his seat. Were he denounced, he felt there would be no alternative between detection and almost instant death, and there were not a few who repeated to themselves the dying confession of faith. If it was to be, it was to be; there was no escape now.

The King spoke from his seat, and though his voice was of a gentler character than his Secretary's, its silvery ringing tones were even more distinctly heard.

"O friends and subjects!" he said, "many words are hardly needful when the understanding is to have clear scope for action, and I desire all to consider what will be now put before ye. As God hath appointed me His deputy on earth to govern this kingdom, so I am answerable to Him for it, and for you, my people. This I clearly admit. If it be glorious, are ye not so? If it be tranquil, are ye not safe? If it be humbled, are ye not humbled likewise? Is any one weary of our service, let him leave it, but for the rest, let us be united: let it not be said by our enemies that we could be seduced and divided, or that our foolish quarrels are worse than the petty jealousies of the women of a divided house. O noble Dekhanies, put enmity and treachery from among ye: is it come to this, that they exist? Listen."

The King paused, and seemed to be searching under his cushions, while the sounds of his last words, rising to the vaulted roof, trembled in a sweet faint murmur, and died away among its fretted recesses; and as yet the rapt silence of the assembly was unbroken.

"A man," he continued, holding up a mass of papers to the view of all—"one whom we had venerated as a father—into whose hands we were given by our father on his deathbed—has been false. False to me, that is nothing,—false to the kingdom and to you, that is more,—false to his oath to an orphan as I am, and to God, that is most of all. Here is his writing, here are his seals,—look at them. These letters to the Padshah Alumgeer began ere that bad man were a king, and have been continued within a month; and by them we read now, that him we speak of would have given away our kingdom, but would have reserved his share. And yet, O Khan Mahomed! if we wrong thee in this, we will do thee justice before God and this assembly."

"Justice, justice!" echoed a thousand voices: "put out the treason!" while many rose excitedly to their feet and were pulled down again by their neighbours.

"Wait," continued the King. "Let him be heard in his own behalf when he arrives; do not prejudge him. If these are untrue, there is no honour we possess or can confer, that shall not be his. If true, let the just Alla judge him before ye all."

"Ameen, ameen!" cried the Peer devoutly. "Ameen, ameen!" was echoed by the assembly, in a hoarse roar, which filled the hall. Again there was silence.

"The next is a more simple matter," continued the King, with increased confidence. "Ye all know of Sivaji BhÓslay. How often his father rebelled, and was punished, and again forgiven by our father. How often the son hath been guilty of crimes. All these would have been forgiven. As a wise father corrects, while he bears with and forgives the errors of a wilful son,—so should we have forgiven also; but for treachery. Look, friends, here, in the same packet with those we have just mentioned, are these letters from Sivaji to the Padshah. We who have fed this wolf, are his enemies; those who have hunted him, are his friends. Here are lists of forts which will be taken and held for the Moghuls, of districts to pay for armies, of men who will join with their local levies. Between them they will share the Dekhan, and Sivaji will be the imperial Vice-regent!

"Did ye hear, friends?" he continued, after a pause. "Do ye desire to serve under the infidel? I am young. I have no experience. I am a humble worm before God; but I am the son of one who led ye to victory. I am one who has been nursed in war, and will lead ye again! Choose, then, between them and the King of your ancient dynasty. If I have a place in your hearts, bid me stay; if not, a Durwaysh's robe and staff are mine, and at the blessed shrine of the Prophet I will abjure the world and die. I will trouble ye no more. No, no more—me, or mine."

For an instant the same sweet trembling murmur of the King's voice arose to the roof—but for an instant only. As if with one accord, a shout of "Deen! Deen! for the faith! for the faith! we will die for you!"—rang through the building, as men, no longer able to control their emotions, started to their feet and shouted the war-cry of Islam. Those who were without had observed the emotion in the hall, but had not been aware of its cause. Now, however, the familiar battle-shout fell on willing ears, and was returned, from the thousands gathered there, with an enthusiasm which knew no bounds. "Deen! Deen!" accompanied by the battle-cries of the various nobles and chiefs whose escorts were drawn up together.

Just then, and as the excitement from within and without had somewhat subsided, a strong body of horse, known to all as belonging to Afzool Khan, swept round the corner of the building with its standard unfurled, and its kettle-drums beating loudly. Among the serried mass of horsemen could be seen a palankeen closely muffled and jealously guarded, immediately behind which rode the brave old Khan and his son Fazil, with several of his officers. It was evident to all that the litter contained a person of consequence; and many from within the hall looked around anxiously, as Afzool Khan, his son, and several others with him, dismounted and placed themselves beside it. Could the Wuzeer have returned? If so, he was already a prisoner, and there was no hope. If not, whom could it be? The King had been about to address the assembly again, but he paused and turned to those behind him.

"Ah," he cried exultingly, "Alla hath heard our prayers, and here are our noble friends. I vow thank-offerings to thee, O Sofee Surmust![11] O Geesoo Duraz! by thy hands, Peer Sahib, as thou wilt!"

"I said the planets assured me that my lord should destroy his enemies to-day," said the Peer, wiping his eyes, for his love for Afzool Khan was great, and he had feared seduction. "Shookr oolla! Shookr oolla! Hazarha-Shookr! thousands of thanks do we offer at thy throne, O merciful! and here he comes, SoobhÁn Ulla! SoobhÁn Ulla!"

Afzool Khan was well known, and a hearty shout had greeted him as he dismounted, looked proudly about him, and returned the salutations of his friends and the soldiery. The palankeen was, by his orders, taken up the steps into the corridor; and, room being cleared for it by the sticks and maces of the chobdars, it was carried on, the Khan and his son accompanying it, through the entrance hall and into the centre of the assembly before the throne, where, in spite of the remonstrances of the chamberlains, it was set down. Then the Khan, disengaging his sword from his belt, and bidding Fazil do the same, they advanced to the foot of the musnud, and enveloping the hilts in their scarfs, presented them as "nuzzurs" or offerings to the King, making, at the same time, their customary obeisances.

"Pardon for this boldness, my prince," said the Khan, "but as the merciful Alla delivered us strangely out of his hands who is there, we thought we had better bring him to 'the presence' at once."

"Who?" asked the king excitedly. "The Wuzeer? Khan Mahomed?"

"No, my lord," returned the Khan, "but JehÁndar Beg."

"God be praised thou art safe, Khan," returned the King, putting out his hand and resting it upon the Khan's head, "and thou also, Fazil. Now, we have no fear."

"Ah, old friend!" cried the Peer, the tears fairly running down his cheeks while he pointed to the King; "he hath been so brave, so brave: my boy—so eloquent. Stones would have cried out at his words. Didst thou not hear the shouting?"

"Surely," returned the Khan; "but 'tis hardly a welcome sound in these days unless one knows the reason, so we hurried on. Eloquent! I knew he would be so. Brave! Ay, or he is no descendant of his royal race. May I open the litter, my lord?" he asked of the King.

"Bismilla! open it," he replied; and some of the attendants hastily untied the knots by which the cover had been fastened over the top. As the last fold was removed, the figure of JehÁndar Beg sitting upright, his arms and hands swathed carefully in a shawl, and his eyes bound with a handkerchief, was displayed to all. The bandage was removed, and he looked wildly about him.

JehÁndar Beg saw his position at once. He was no coward, and he perceived that all chance of life had passed away. The Wuzeer was not there, and Afzool Khan, stooping into the litter, took up the case containing JehÁndar Beg's most secret papers, and presented them to the King. "May I be loosed?" said the KÓtwal to the Khan. "My fate is in the King's hands."

"Surely," replied the King; "we fear him not, nor any enemy," he continued, looking round. "May God deliver them into our hands, even as he hath this traitor."

"Ameen! Ameen!" cried a tumult of voices, followed by the loud KhÁmÔsh of the criers.

Afzool Khan spoke so as to be heard by all. We need not follow his recital, for the particulars have been already related; but the words were drunk in with avidity by the assembly. He disclosed no man's name; the papers would speak for themselves.

One by one they were read, Persian and Mahratta in turn, clearly and distinctly; while, by the King's command, several of them were taken round by mutsuddees to the principal nobles and sirdars, that the seals might be examined.

This necessarily occupied some time, during which, the litter having been removed to the door, JehÁndar Beg stood in the centre, as yet boldly if not defiantly. Could the Wuzeer only arrive—and he was expected momentarily—all would be changed. Before him the King, bold as he seemed now, would quail; those friends in the assembly, who had already exchanged glances with him, would at once rise. There might be bloodshed, and of the result he had no doubt: it had been calculated beforehand, and was certain. Much depended on a mysterious arrangement of the Wuzeer's, which he suspected; but to the particulars of which he had not been admitted. Need he deny the papers? He dare not. They were facts which could neither be denied nor evaded.

"Unhappy, godless man," cried the King, when several had been read, and others were being examined, "are these true? Dost thou admit them? Hast thou eaten my salt and found it so bitter, that that of others seemed sweeter to thee? Speak, JehÁndar Beg! are these true? are they thine own?"

Upon his reply hung many a life had he chosen to denounce those present; but with all his bad faith, there was no meanness in the man.

"The letters, my prince, are true; as they are addressed. I have no more to say. Whatever my fate is to be, let it come; I am ready to meet it," returned the KÓtwal, firmly.

"And these for Khan Mahomed? The writing in the corner is yours, and the date of receipt is to-day."

"It is my writing; why should I tell a lie?" returned JehÁndar Beg, sullenly; "but I know not the contents."

"Enough," replied the King; "my friends, we would do no injustice. Let us await the Wuzeer's arrival—it cannot be long now—and hear the result from his own lips."