Somewhat later in the day, a few groups of men were assembled near those majestic Adansonian trees which still stand by the wayside between the Citadel and the outer gate of the fort of Beejapoor. The sun's rays fell slanting through their dense foliage, and cast broad shadows upon the bright green sward, which, with the trees themselves, glowed in the evening light. The wind had fallen, and not a leaf stirred in the oppressive sultry calm which prevailed.

On one side, upon piece of faded carpet, torn and ragged, sat a Fakeer, to all appearance, with long matted hair streaming over his shoulders to his waist, and over his face also, so as partly to conceal it. Some coarse rags hung loosely about him, but he wore the tall felt cap of the Kullunders, and their quilted robe thrown over his shoulders. He sat upon his heels, leaning upon a bright steel rod with prongs at the end, which might serve either for support or defence, and spoke to no one; but now and again a low cry of "Ulla dilÂy to lÉonga," was rather muttered than cried aloud. A few copper coins and cowries, which had been thrown to him by passers-by, lay on the carpet.

At a little distance from him were two parties of armed men—some Mussulmans, some Hindus—standing, lounging on the grass, and speaking carelessly together. One of these, from his dress and hair, seemed to be of more pretension than the rest, and might be the Jemadar, or sub-officer of the party, and was attended by two men armed with "Puttas," long, broad Toledo blades, set in steel gauntlets inlaid with silver, which hung at their backs, the hilts projecting over their shoulders. These men were both short, with round backs, and very powerful frames; and, from this brief description, our previous acquaintance with them under the banian tree will be remembered.

"Perhaps they have pardoned him, after all, and let him go," said Rama. "The King is young, and soft as a woman; and what will the uncle yonder say to that, I wonder?"

"Impossible," replied Lukshmun; "I was behind the guards all the time, and heard JehÁndar Beg ordered for execution under the Goruk Imlee. No, the King was as firm as our uncle when——Look! what is that? Can it be they?"

As he spoke, a small procession was seen approaching, a litter tied up as though a lady were within; a few footmen ran beside it, and a few horsemen rode before and behind. Unobtrusive in character, its movements were nevertheless followed with the greatest interest by the men we have mentioned, and even the Fakeer looked aside to watch it.

At first it seemed to be proceeding by the road in the direction of the outer gate; but as it arrived opposite the trees, the leading horsemen turned suddenly across the sward and halted under them, followed by the bearers, who at once hastily put down the litter and retired apart. The leader of the party drew up his own men at a little distance, while the footmen were directed to remove the cover of the litter. As they did so, the person within, who was pinioned, put his feet out of it, and stood up.

"Where is Hoosein, the executioner?" cried the officer; "he was ordered to be here; and this is no time for delay. Have any of ye seen him?" he asked of the people around.

Some one answered, "He is not here;" and another cried carelessly, "Hoosein does not like doing service for his own master;" and a third called out sneeringly, "You will find him drunk in the bazar by this time; go and look there."

"God forbid," said the officer, impatiently; "go, some of you, and see if he be coming in any direction;" and several of the horsemen dashed off at full speed.

"Enough, sir," said JehÁndar Beg, sadly; "a keen sword is all that is needed; and ye are soldiers. Loose my hands, I pray ye, that I may say my last prayer before I die.... Peace for a while. Syn," he continued to the Fakeer, whose chant had increased to a solemn wail; "here is something for thee. See thou to my grave, and to the Fatehas after death. This will be enough, perhaps," he continued, with a sad smile, throwing some gold coins to the man, which lighted upon his carpet, but were not noticed.

"Ulla dilÂy to lÉonga!" was the only reply; but the tone, which had been raised as JehÁndar Beg appeared, now subsided into a low murmur.

"Let it be here," said JehÁndar Beg, stepping forward to a piece of smooth turf under one of the huge branches. "Will any one lend me a scarf? Stay, this will do," he continued, loosing his own shawl from his waist; "when I am dead, give it to the Durwaysh yonder." Then he spread it out on the ground, and knelt down upon it, with his face towards Mecca, settling the cap upon his head, smoothing his long curly beard, and the glossy brown curls which fell upon his neck. "There is no use asking for water for ablution," he muttered, "this will suffice;" and taking up a little dry earth, he rubbed his hands with it, allowing the dust to fall over his elbows.

JehÁndar Beg looked once more around ere he began his prayer; above, to the stately trees, and their heavy foliage, among which a flock of noisy parroquets were fluttering from branch to branch, and screaming loudly; over the green sward, to the King's fort and palaces, on which, and upon the noble dome of the mausoleum of Mahmood Adil Shah, his first benefactor and patron, the mellow light of evening rested in a golden radiance, and away over trees, gardens, and minarets, all glowing in the same soft beauty; then upon the group around him, for a few chance passengers, seeing what was to happen, had gathered round the spot.

A shiver seemed to pass through him as he closed his eyes slowly. Not of fear, for the man, a Fatalist by creed and habit, was meeting his doom stoically as a brave Moslem can do; but a thought had crossed him which would not be put back—a vision of love and peace—of his girl wife in her rosy beauty, and of her fair boy, far away at his own village and home, in the blue mountains of Khorassan—and of a fond aged mother who lived with them. This season they were to have come to him. Who now would tell them of his fate?

"A word, Jemadar," he said to the officer. "Bid that Fakeer come hither."

"Thou wilt do it," he said, as the man rose and advanced, "for the sake of the gold. Give this ring to Afzool Khan—my worst enemy in life, and yet the truest man in Beejapoor—and these papers; he will know what to write to my—my—to my house. And now, friends, peace, and the peace of God and the love of the Prophet be with ye! When I have said the prayer, I would die."

It was finished, but as yet no executioner had arrived. JehÁndar Beg sat resting upon his heels, his eyes closed, while his beads passed rapidly through his fingers as his lips moved in prayer.

"We cannot delay," cried the Jemadar to those around, "will none of ye strike a blow for the King? Here is the warrant, and here is a bag of money for any who will earn it."

"Go thou, Rama," said Lukshmun, nudging his brother, "thou art a surer hand with the 'Putta' than I am; but if thou wilt not, I will try mine on that rascal, who hath strung up many a better fellow than himself on these trees. Hast thou forgotten what he did to our people?"

"Yes," added Gopal Singh; "go, Rama, and end this play. See thou do it well, and they will give thee the money. Go!"

"If the uncle wills it," said Rama, hitching forward his long weapon, as he looked for a moment to the Fakeer, who bowed his head, imperceptibly to others, yet intelligibly to them, as he repeated his cry. "Yes, I will do it," and drawing the broad blade, on which the sun's rays flashed brightly, he felt its edge, then put his hand into the gauntlet which reached to his elbow, and fastened the straps over his wrist and arm carefully. He now advanced lightly, with circling steps, flourishing the heavy weapon, as though it had been a stick, round and round his head; yet, with every sweep, it was clear that he was measuring his distance more carefully. Another moment—a bright flash in the air—a whistling sound as the sword clove it—and the head of JehÁndar Beg rolled to the ground, the lips still moving with the prayer which he had not finished, while the trunk fell forward quivering.

"The second to-day," said Rama, muttering to himself, as he wiped his sword on the sward. "Enough, enough!"

"SoobhÁn Ulla!" exclaimed the Jemadar. "A brave stroke. Thou shouldst be chief executioner thyself, friend."

"That is my brother, noble sir," said Lukshmun, interrupting the speaker, "and he does not like being spoken to after he has cut off a man's head. Give me the money, Jemadar Sahib, and let us begone; you see he is cleaning his sword; he might dirty it again if he were vexed."

"Take it, friend," returned the officer, "and away with ye, for yonder is Hoosein JullÂd coming, and ye may perchance quarrel over it. Begone!"

"Bid him and his party watch here till I bring men to bury the dead," said the seeming Fakeer, who had again risen and advanced, and who, having removed the bloody shawl, was rolling it up. "Watch with them, even though it should be night. This gold will suffice for all, and I will return." So saying, he stalked away rapidly in the direction of the fort, while his strange cry changed—"Ulla dilÂy to leea, Ulla dilÂy to leea!" (God gave and I took, God gave and I took!)

"Sir, here are the executioner's men, and they will watch; we need not stay," said one of the soldiers to their officer. "Let us go."

The litter was taken up, the soldiers moved rapidly away, and there remained only the watchers and two women, wrapped closely in heavy sheets, who had not been previously noticed, and who sat cowering behind one of the giant trunks, sobbing bitterly. Perhaps——; but no matter now.

The sun was sinking fast, and its rays fell upon a pool of blood, glistening, as it dried among the blades of the close sward,—upon a ghastly head, its face turned upwards to the sky,—and a headless trunk beside it, from which the crimson stream was still oozing. Above, on the high bare branches, sat foul birds and ravens, which had already scented the blood, and whose hoarse croaks mingled with the heavy rustle of the wings of vultures, assembling for a night feast;—no unusual matter, perhaps, in that place.

"A Fakeer says he must see you, my lord," said Goolab to Afzool Khan, as he sat quietly in his accustomed seat after the evening prayer. "He is in the court at the door, and will take no denial. He will not go away, but cursed frightfully when we said you were tired, and were resting in private."

"A Fakeer, Goolab! Do you know him?"

"All he says, master, is 'Ulla dilÂy to leea,'" replied the woman, "and he declared he would cut himself with a knife and throw his blood upon us if we did not tell you. Hark! there is a shout."

"Ulla dilÂy to leea!"

The Khan did not delay. "I know him, Goolab," he said. "Go, and say I come."

"Bid every one depart hence," said the man as Afzool Khan approached him, attended by several servants. "What I have to say to thee brooks no listeners. There," he continued, when all had gone; and flinging down the bloody scarf at the Khan's feet, "look, it is his blood who would have been true, but for him who went to hell before him. Here is his last request to thee, Afzool Khan, for he trusted thee only, of all this city. Take them, I have done his last bidding."

"His seal and these papers, Syn. More treason, perhaps. Did he say aught of them?" said the Khan.

"Only that they belonged to his house, and I should give them to you; and he died like a brave man as he was."

"Yes, as he was, Syn," echoed the Khan sadly—"as he was. And thou hast buried him? Else——"

"I have cared for that; it doth not concern thee, Khan."

"And who art thou, Syn? We have met before to-day."

"Ay, Khan, and before that often. Am I safe with thee? Put thy hand on my head; nay, fear not a poor servant of God, and I will tell thee who I am."

"Surely, friend," replied Afzool Khan, putting out his hand upon the high felt cap, "fear not."

"Not there, not there; on my head," cried the man, grasping the Khan's hand, and kissing it while he removed the cap; "on my head, on my head. Ask Ali Adil Shah of me, and remember—Pahar Singh."

"Pahar Singh!" exclaimed the Khan, starting back.

"Hush, fear not; I have been pardoned, and the Shah's hand hath been before thine on his head; fear not, I will be true to thee, for thou art faithful to him. Thy hand once more, Khan, freely and truly upon my head."

"Go, friend," said Afzool Khan, placing it as he desired. "Go, I doubt thee not, for I have heard what happened last night; go in peace. Whatever thou canst do for the Shah will not be forgotten."

"There is yet one more work to-day ere I sleep, Khan—one more, and I go to do it. God be with you."

As he departed, the men on guard would have stopped him, but again the old cry arose, and in his assumed character no one molested him, as the shout, rising and falling on the air, died away in the far distance.

Afzool Khan took up the bloody scarf and gave it to an attendant. "Let it be washed, and kept till I ask for it," he said. Not long afterwards some Persian merchants were returning to their country, and they bore the last requests of the unhappy JehÁndar Beg, with such monies as could be saved out of his property, to his family.

That evening the crypt under the old tomb was again empty. Maloosray's scouts had brought him the news of Bulwunt Rao having survived his wound; and of the occurrences in the Durbar of the King, of which he had been advised by the Brahmun we have seen in communication with JehÁndar Beg. Watching from the terrace of the temple, he had seen the Wuzeer's arrival at Allapoor; followed his course across the plain; and guessed, by the confusion and shots at the gate, and the dispersion of the horsemen with him, that something extraordinary had taken place, the particulars of which, and of the subsequent execution of JehÁndar Beg, were related by his scouts. Under the presence of Pahar Singh, therefore, Beejapoor was no longer safe; and as night closed, the whole party, unobserved, left their hiding-place to its usual tenants, the jackals and hyenas of the plain.