"You have not stayed long, Meah, after all," cried the cheery voice of Bulwunt Rao, as he saw his young master approaching the place of meeting, a large peepul tree, which stood at a back entrance to the garden. "And you are as good as your word. I thought there might be some lecture from 'the Mastu,' and some remonstrances from the KhÁnum, and possibly that the stars were not to be overcome; but all seems to have gone well. Did they know you?"

"My sister seemed rather frightened as she saw me, and shrank back, but my father declared me perfect, and bade me God-speed," replied Fazil; "but look over me once more: dark as it is, it might be a matter of life or death if we were discovered."

"Discovered, Meah! No, trust me for that!" replied Bulwunt. "Only keep that courtly tongue of yours quiet, or if you speak at all, let it be in Canara, which somehow suits you better than our soft Mahratta, and let it be as broad as you can make it. Leave the rest to me. 'Mahrattas know Mahrattas,' is one of our common proverbs, not untrue either. No salaams, Meah! If there be occasion to salute any one, you know the mode. So—join your hands and thumbs together, carry them up to your nose. There, your thumbs along the nose—good. Now a gentle inclination of the head, very little——Shabash! that was excellent. Take care that no Bundagee or Salaam AlyÈk—or other Moslem salutation escape you: if you have need, a soft 'Numuscar Maharaj,' or if we meet a Gosai, 'Nemmo Narrayen Bawa!' Or, better than all—why risk anything? keep a silent tongue, and leave me to talk."

"Nay, not so fast, friend," cried the young Khan, smiling at his follower's earnestness, "fear not for me; I know enough of the customs of the dress I wear to bear me out if need be, and I would fain have my tongue as my hands are—at liberty. No ganja, I hope, since your brain is clear."

"By your head and eyes, no, Meah, I have only drunk water since you first called me," he replied earnestly; "look here," and he executed one of the most difficult of the movements which accompanied his sword exercise,—"will that do?"

"Let us on then, friend, in the name of all the saints, for we have enough to do ere morning, and it is some distance to the temple."

"Nearly a coss, Meah, and we have to pass some bad places beyond the deer park. Come, let nothing induce you to enter into a brawl, or notice insult, or we shall fail. If we are attacked, we can strike in return. Come!"

So saying, they moved on rapidly and silently to the Hindu temple which Bulwunt Rao knew of. Their appearance—for both were attired as nearly as possible alike, except that Bulwunt had concealed more of his face than his companion—was too common and unobtrusive to attract attention, and they passed unnoticed through the respectable portions of the city, meeting, however, few passers in the now dark and deserted streets.

Passing the wall of the deer park, and skirting the walls and glacis of the citadel, patches of open rocky ground succeeded, where a few sleepless asses picked up a scanty night meal, and the houseless dogs of the city snarled and fought over the carrion carcases of cattle, or the offal which had been thrown out there, or disputed their half-picked bones with troops of jackals. Now they met men at intervals, who, with muffled faces and scarcely concealed weapons, watched for unwary single passengers, from whom by threat or violence they might be able to extort the means of temporary debauchery. Some such looked scowlingly upon the friends, and sometimes even advanced upon them; but seeing at a nearer glance no hope of anything but hard blows, passed them by unheeded.

"Many a good fellow has had an end of him made hereabouts," said Bulwunt in a low voice, as they passed a more conspicuous group than usual, who seemed inclined to dispute the way with them. "How much would there be found of a man by morning, to ascertain what he had been in life, if his body were thrown upon one of those heaps of carrion, which the hyenas, dogs, and jackals are fighting over? Do you not hear them yelling?—Bah! that would be an ugly fate, and that is why I seldom venture into this quarter by night."

"Then you come sometimes?"

"Why not, Meah? Are there not adventures enough for those who seek them? I tell thee, many a young noble, ay, and old one too, that I could name, come here after dark and amuse themselves gaily for an hour or two; but thou art not of that sort, Meah; else I had brought thee long ago."

"And that is the quarter yonder, I suppose," said the young man, "above which the light gleams brightly."

"You are right, Meah; a few minutes more and we enter it."

A scene it was of coarse open profligacy. Shops of a low character for the sale of spirits were everywhere open, filled with flaming lamps, or before which stood large iron cressets filled with cotton seed soaked in oil, that burned brightly, sending forth a thick ropy smoke, and showing groups of men, women, and children too, sitting on the ground, drinking the hot new liquor, or the more rapidly intoxicating juice of the date palm-tree; which, contained in large earthen jars, was being dispensed by ladlesful to people clustered around them. All this part resounded with obscene abuse, and songs, and violent wrangling. In one group two men had drawn their daggers, and were with difficulty held back by women hanging about them. In another place, two women had hold of each other's hair, and were beating and scratching each other with their disengaged hands.

They passed through all; many a gibe and coarse invitation familiar to Bulwunt Rao, who, had he been alone, could not have resisted them, followed them from men and women. But he was for the time steady, checked by the presence of his young chief, and with the fierce desire of meeting his hereditary enemy burning at his heart. They were now near the place in regard to which Bulwunt thought he could not be mistaken. A little further there was a Hindu temple gaily decked out with white and orange-coloured banners; people were singing evening hymns within it, and their voices rose even above the hoarse murmur of the crowd, and there was a clash of cymbals accompanying them. Bulwunt stopped, and laid his hand on his companion's arm.

"That is the temple," he said, "by which I know the kullal's, and that is where we shall meet Tannajee, if at all. That is Rama of Ashtee's shop across the street."

"And is the other temple far off?" asked Fazil.

"Not now; a few more turns down the back lanes yonder, and we shall find it among the tamarind trees in the plain. We will go there at once."

Bulwunt knew the place perfectly. A quiet secluded spot, where often, stupid from the effects of ganja, or drink, he had gone to sleep off the effects before he went home. A place where one or two Jogis, or Gosais, or Sunniasis of ascetic orders, usually put up, or travellers sometimes going eastwards, who had to be clear of the city before dawn. The grove, too, was a favourite place for encampment, and droves of Brinjarries, or other public carriers, halted there in fair weather. Now, however, it was quite vacant, and the natural gloom of the place was deepened by the darkness of the night, while the glare to which their eyes had been exposed, caused it to seem more gloomy still.

"An evil-looking place, friend, at this hour," said Fazil.

"Ay, Meah, dark enough; yet better than the light we have left yonder," he replied, pausing and looking back to where the glare of the kullal's quarter rose into the dark night air above the houses;—"better than that. Yet it is a strange place to come to at night, unless there be any one here. Be cautious, Meah, I will look in."

The temple was a small one, upon a low basement; the high conical roof or steeple could hardly be traced among the heavy foliage that enveloped it. There was a court around it, the wall of which was not so high on one side but that a man standing on tip-toe might look over it; and as Fazil was about to do so, Bulwunt Rao pulled him back.

"For your life, no," he whispered, "some one is there. I saw the flicker of a fire yonder; come round to the back of the verandah. I know of a hole in the wall which is not filled up."

Fazil followed. His companion was right. A hole had been left in the wall for light or air, and some loose stones and bricks stuffed into it. Just enough aperture remained for both to see plainly what was therein. On two sides of the small court, opposite to the temple, was a terraced building roughly built, the pillars supporting the clay roof being of rudely-hewn timber. The basement was level with that of the temple, and ascended by three low steps in the centre. Three persons were sitting on the floor near the embers of a fire; two enveloped in white sheets, which were drawn over their heads, and partly over their faces; they might be Brahmuns, who had been worshipping at the temple. The other was a "Jogi," or ascetic, who, in all his majesty of dirt and ashes—his hair matted and twisted about his head like a turban, the ends of a long grizzly beard tucked over his ears, and naked to the waist—sat cross-legged upon a deer's skin before the embers, which cast a dull and flickering light upon his naked body.

Occasionally, with his right hand, he took ashes from the fire and rubbed them over his broad hairy chest and sinewy arms, and occasionally over his face, telling his beads the while with his left. None of the men spoke. Could they be the persons of whom they were in search?

"I fear we are wrong, Bulwunt," whispered Fazil, "these must be Brahmuns with that Jogi."

"I know of no other temple, Meah," returned Bulwunt; "but wait here, I will go round to the door and question them."

"Be careful, friend; I like not the look of the old Jogi; be careful," interrupted Fazil.

"Nay, I am not going to quarrel with him," continued Bulwunt Rao; "but watch what they do. You will see all their faces if they turn to me." And with cautious steps he moved in.

The door of the temple was in front. Bulwunt had seen it was partially opened when they arrived. Fazil heard it creak on its hinges as Bulwunt opened it, and saw him emerge from behind the basement of the temple; and amidst a rough cry of "who comes?" "who art thou?" from the three persons, walk slowly and firmly up to the basement of the verandah, and make the customary reverential salutation.

"Thou art a bold fellow," exclaimed one of the men covered with a sheet, who stood up, looking at Bulwunt from head to foot, "to intrude upon respectable people unbidden. A Gosai, too, whence art thou?"

"I am a poor disciple of Amrut Geer, of Kullianee, if ye know the town," answered Bulwunt, deferentially; "and they call me Poorungeer. I have come to the city on business, and have travelled far to-day. I often put up here, and, as I saw lights, I entered, in the hope of shelter for the night. It will rain presently, and, with your permission, I will take a drink of water and rest here."

"There is plenty of water in the well without," returned the man sulkily; "and there are the iron bucket and cord—take them and begone. There are a thousand Gosain's Mutts in Beejapoor, why shouldst thou stay here?—begone!"

"Nay, be not inhospitable, O Bawa!" returned Bulwunt. "I am weary and footsore; it is a long way to the only Mutt, I know, and it is not safe for a man alone to pass the plain at night."

"I tell thee begone," said the Jogi; "there is no room for thee here; begone, else we will turn thee out."

"Direct me, then, to a resting-place, good sirs," replied Bulwunt. "I would give no offence; I pray ye be not angry." "Nay," he continued, observing a gesture of impatience; "behold, I am gone. I would not be unwelcome. Only say, O Jogi, what this temple is called?"

"This is the temple of Toolja DÉvi, and dedicated to the Holy Mother at Tooljapoor," replied the man. "If thou hast need to visit it, come to-morrow, and thou wilt see the image. Depart now, or these worthy men may be angry. Thou hast interrupted already a discourse on the mysteries——"

"Which would have benefited me, Bawa, also. I shall not forget their inhospitality. Now I depart." And saluting the Jogi, who lifted his hand to his head, and staring fixedly at the others, whose faces were plainly visible by the light of the fire, which had blazed up, Bulwunt Rao left them.

"Listen, Meah," whispered Bulwunt to Fazil, as he rejoined him. "These are the people, no doubt; there are some holes in the wall behind them, which I saw when within; come round to them, we shall see and hear better, and can listen to the old Jogi's discourse on the mysteries; no doubt it will be edifying. The old Jogi is some one, I think, in disguise, but it is well done. Come, and tread softly."

The light tread of their naked feet was not heard amidst the rustling of the trees above; and, as Bulwunt had said, there were several holes in the wall which enabled them to see and hear perfectly, except when the conversation was carried on in the lowest whispers. They were, however, on the highest side of the court wall.

"We are right now," whispered Fazil; "but have the weapons ready in case of need. I like not the Jogi nor his friends."

The inmates of the little building were silent for some time, and one of them, who had kept his face concealed, at length lay down, and drew his sheet over him. The other two smoked at intervals. Now one, now the other, lighting the rude cocoa-nut hooka with embers from the fire before them.

"Didst thou know that lad, Pahar Singh—that Gosai?" asked his companion. "Methinks he was more than he seemed. I know most of that old robber Amrut Geer's cheylas, too, but not him; he may be a new one perhaps. Only I wish I had not seen him; there was an evil eye in his head;" and the speaker's shoulders twitched as though a slight shudder had passed through him.

"What dost thou care about evil eyes, Maun Singh?" replied the Jogi, laughing. "I know not the man, and why should he trouble thee, brother? Depend upon it he was no more than he seemed, else why should he have named Amrut Geer of Tooljapoor? Why art thou thus suspicious?" And he again applied himself to the hooka, whose bubbling rattle rang through the building.

"Nay, it does not signify, only one does not like to be intruded upon, that's all. I had as well shut the door of the temple, brother."

"Do not bolt it," cried the Jogi; "they will be here soon," as the man went and closed it; then returned, and with another shrug or shiver, lay down, when both relapsed into silence.

"Pahar Singh!" whispered Bulwunt to the young Khan; "the robber, murderer, rebel, what you please. The man after whom we wandered so long last year. Ah, 'tis a rare plot, Meah, if such be the instruments."

"Hush!" said Fazil; "they are speaking again. Listen!"

"Where did you get those papers, O Toolsee Das?" asked Pahar Singh of the man who had been lying down. "What, hast thou been asleep? Tell me again, lest I make a mistake."

"Not I, please your Highness," replied the person addressed, raising himself upon his arm; "but if you talk in that gibberish language of your country, what am I to do? It is dull work waiting when one's eyes are heavy with sleep, and I am not rested from that fearful ride."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Pahar Singh; "that ride, Lalla! O man! it was but a child's ride after all, only forty coss. You will be lively enough by-and-by. Now, if you can speak without lying, tell me truly, are those papers genuine or not?"

"My lord," replied the Lalla, sitting up; "they who come will best know that. If they had not been genuine they would not have been worth the stealing, nor these long journeys, to which your servant is not accustomed, nor the risk of being compared with original documents. I told my lord this before, and——"

"True, Lalla," said Pahar Singh, interrupting him; "but one likes to hear a thing over again when it is pleasant. Ha, ha! when it is pleasant, you know——"

"When the honour of great houses is at stake we Mutsuddees have to be proportionably careful," returned the Lalla pompously; "and when your poor servant saw what these were, you see—my consideration for the king—for this state—may it flourish a thousand years—was great, and I—I, ahem—brought them away——"

"You mean you stole them, Lalla? Out with the truth, good fellow."

"Well, sir, if you don't like my words. Yes, I stole them, and it was a blessed chance which has enabled me to turn them to such good account," said the Lalla, smiling blandly. "Excellent indeed, my lord; and I," continued the Lalla, rubbing his hands, "ha! ha! my lord, and I——"

"Ha! ha! ha!" responded Pahar Singh, interrupting him with a coarse laugh. "We shall see. No blood in that robbery, Maun Singh. Ours are seldom so neatly done, I think; but the Lalla is a master of his craft. Well, and if they are genuine, you will have a rich reward. O, much money; gold perhaps, who knows? and half is mine for not cutting that lying coward throat of yours, or hanging you like a dog, Lallajee."

"Noble prince, I have not forgotten the agreement, nor my lord's hospitality," returned the Lalla, joining his hands.

"Ah, that is well," returned Pahar Singh grimly. "One should not forget obligations, and they are only five days old. By your child's head, Maun Singh, he had a narrow escape, only for the boy and thee. Ah, it was rare fun. A coward—a peculiar coward! He did not think he should live, and he told us of the papers; only for that, they would have gone into the river with his carcase. Ah, yes; it was well done. What if they are false, O Lalla, and we have been brought so far in vain! O man, think of that."

"Yes, think of that, Lallajee," returned Maun Singh, turning himself lazily round to speak. "There are few like thee who are made guests of, and fed instead of becoming food. Ha, ha, ha! art thou not afraid?"

"My lords, I can say no more. I have told you all I can, and the rest is in their hands who come," said the Lalla, humbly putting up his hands to his nose. In his heart, however, the man was chuckling, secretly. He thought those who were to come would be attended by a retinue, and he purposed to watch his opportunity and denounce the robber, who would be seized on the bare mention of his name; and when he, Toolsee Das, should not only get the price of the papers, but, he felt sure, be rewarded for having enticed so wary a robber into a trap. The Lalla, therefore, endured the raillery and coarse abuse expended upon him with a peculiarly grim satisfaction.

"Yes, a cowardly knave, by your eyes, Maun Singh," continued Pahar Singh, while both were laughing heartily. "Ah, how he begged for life! And we have fed him well since too, though I am not sure that I did right in bringing him here, after all. I think I ought to have sent thee after thine ancestors, Lalla!"

"I doubt not, valiant sir, that your worship hath slain many of the King's enemies," said the Lalla, trembling in spite of himself, but inwardly determining to show no mercy, "and you are pleased to be merry."

"Dog, if thou hast deceived me, and brought me fifty coss for nothing, to save thy miserable life," said Pahar Singh, fiercely, "thou shalt not escape me twice. Hark! what is that at the door?" for it was now shaken violently; "they are come, Maun Singh. Remember, Lalla, I am no Pahar Singh now, or thou diest on the spot. See what I have for thee here," and he showed the shining naked blade of a sword concealed under the ashes. "Enough, don't be frightened, only be discreet. Go, Maun Singh, brother, open the wicket quickly," for those without again shook it impatiently. "Two are to come, only the two; there might be treachery with more. But ho, ho, ho! Pahar Singh is a match for ten, is he not? Now, see thou speakest the truth, O Lalla," he continued; "and my vows for the temple, and the well, they are not to be forgotten—nor—the feeding—five thousand Brahmuns. Forget not this on thy life. I am thy Gooroo, teaching thee 'the mysteries.'"

These words came from him, jerked out, as it were, by morsels, during the brief interval that elapsed before those he expected arrived; and which he employed in rubbing additional handfuls of ashes from the edges of the fire upon his face, body, and limbs, so as to render his disguise more complete, and in heaping up ashes on his sword, the hilt of which lay towards him, ready for action. As he finished, he took a string of wooden beads from his hair, and settled himself on his heels, in an attitude of austere devotion; for, after a brief parley at the gate, steps were heard advancing, and the Lalla, though his heart sank within him at seeing only two persons accompanying Maun Singh, rose as they ascended the steps of the basement, and were clearly visible by the light of the fire, which Pahar Singh had caused to burn brightly.

Fazil Khan's heart beat fast as he saw that one of the persons who ascended first was the King's secretary, his most trustworthy and confidential servant. His handsome, grave, Persian face, and long grey beard, with the lameness he was known by, which resulted from a wound, were unmistakable. The other, who had his face partly concealed, and who might be taken for an ordinary attendant to the Secretary, seemed nowise remarkable; but, as the pair sat down before him, and this person removed one fold of the scarf about his face—though he kept his mouth and nose still covered, as if to exclude the night air—the large sad eyes of the young King were plainly visible.

Fazil beheld him with an intensity of wondering interest, which it is impossible to describe, and fairly panted with excitement. "If he had known whom he was to meet here," he thought, "he would not have exposed himself to this risk: Alla and the Prophet have sent us." And as this escaped him, partly interjectionally and partly in devout prayer, the young Khan seemed to swell with the consciousness that his King might owe his safety, nay, even life, to them.

The Secretary was a veteran soldier, but he was unarmed, except a small knife-dagger in his girdle. Fazil, therefore, loosened his sword in its sheath. "Be ready," he whispered to his companion, who pressed his hand silently, in acknowledgment of the caution. Bulwunt had evidently not recognized the King; indeed, it was well perhaps that he could not see the face, or have his suspicions awakened: he might not have preserved the same composure as his young master.