It was no fear of Maloosray or lack of enterprise that caused the young Khan to desist from his pursuit; but finding that his retainer had not followed him, nor, indeed, any of the guard—the fear that Bulwunt might have been wounded occurred to him, or that he had been apprehended and detained. It was hopeless also to trace Maloosray, or to ascertain which way he and his companion had proceeded, as they issued from the door of the courtyard into the lane behind. Turning back then, after he had run a few paces, by the way he had come, and directed by the clamour inside the house, he passed rapidly through the yard, and entered the room where the quarrel had taken place; this he found filled with armed men, with several torch-bearers standing around what appeared to be the dead body of his friend.

Fazil had observed Maloosray's violent attack upon him, and that Bulwunt retreated a step or two to avoid it; while at the same time he had advanced towards his own antagonist. The consequences of that blow, therefore, were not immediately seen by him. Now inexpressibly shocked and grieved by the result, Fazil heeded no one; but pressing his way through those assembled, somewhat roughly, he threw himself on his knees beside Bulwunt, who was quite insensible, and, laying aside his sword, strove to raise him up. He saw indeed with great grief that Bulwunt had received a very severe wound; and the pool of blood flowing from the cut, which had not been stanched, and his apparently lifeless condition, caused the most lively alarm.

"Will no one help me?" cried Fazil, looking round, while vainly endeavouring to stanch the blood which occasionally welled from the gaping wound, as Bulwunt breathed heavily. "For the love of God and the Apostle lend me thy waist-band, good sir!" he continued, addressing a respectable-looking man who had accompanied the soldiers, and who was, in fact, the petty officer over them; "or bid some one loose my waist-cloth, else he will perish. Alas, my true friend and brother!"

"And who are you," returned the man contemptuously, "who, in the dress of a Kafir Gosai, dares to take the name of the holy Apostle?—on whom be peace!—a thief or murderer, I warrant. How say you, brother! He may have done this himself, and now mingles with us to pretend grief and avoid suspicion. Here is some evil, depend upon it; seize him and bind him fast."

"Yes, my lords," cried the keeper of the house, who now ventured forward, "bind him fast. That is the fellow who did the murder. They quarrelled over their ganja; and though I did all I could to prevent them——"

"Peace!" cried Fazil, accustomed only to command, and who could ill brook the measures threatened; for several men had closed about him at their officer's order, while another had kicked away his sword, which one of the men was picking up. "Peace, I say; raise him up! See, he is badly wounded; have you no compassion? He will die!"

"Whether he dies or whether he lives, one would think it was little concern of thine, boy," replied the man; "and there is blood on his sword, too," he added, as the man who had possessed himself of it held it up to the light. "Seize him, brother, and bind him fast; he will have to answer for this in the morning. Who art thou, ill-born?"

As the leader of the party spoke, several of the soldiers had thrown themselves upon Fazil, who still kneeled beside Bulwunt, and, holding him down, pulled the turban rudely from his head, and in an instant bound his arms with it so tightly behind his back that the act caused him immediate and exquisite pain.

"Who art thou, knave?" asked the man again peremptorily.

"Speak," cried several of the men, shaking him rudely; "don't you hear what his worship says to you? Speak!"

"It is useless for me now to say who I am," replied Fazil looking round. "Enough that I am one of your own faith, as ye will know when the morning breaks;—one who may be able to punish you for rough uncivil usage, or reward you if that poor fellow is speedily aided. I care little what happens to myself; but if ye know of a physician near, or a skilful barber, I pray, good sir," he continued, addressing himself to the officer, "send for him, that a valuable life may be saved."

This speech was received with a shout of derision by most of the party; but their leader was not unobservant, and he saw at once, by the manner and speech of Fazil, that he was no common person; certainly not, what his attire proclaimed him to be, a Gosai. There was a chance that he might be some one of rank in disguise. The keeper of the house had declared him to be the man who had struck down the unfortunate Bulwunt; but, again, the consideration of his return to the spot, and his sincere grief at the poor fellow's wound, went far to assure the officer that his prisoner had not done the deed, and that whoever did it had escaped. These thoughts rapidly occurring, caused the Duffadar to doubt whether rigour was needful. "Art thou a Gosai?" he asked again. "Answer truly!"

"There is no God but God, and Mahomed is the Prophet of God," exclaimed Fazil, repeating the creed, and, as rapidly as possible, in Arabic, the first part of the midnight prayer. "No, good sir, I am no Gosai, but a humble disciple of the Prophet, on whom be peace!"

"Toba, Toba! now shame on me that I should have put a Mussulman to disgrace," exclaimed the Duffadar. "Loose him, friends—we will see to this; and run one of ye to the respectable Meer Hoosein, who lives in the alley yonder, and is a skilful doctor; and, if I mistake not, there is a clever barber, one Nunda, who lives near him, and who is accustomed to matters of this kind. Bid him bring his needles to sew up the wound. And, hark ye, no excuses from either about the rain and lateness of the night; this is the King's business, and a matter of life and death."

Then turning to Bulwunt, who had been raised up while Fazil's arms were being unbound, and who appeared sensible, he spoke cheerfully to him, bidding him not to be afraid, for he would be well treated.

"Water!" gasped the poor fellow, looking dreamily about him and pointing to his mouth—"Water!"

"Here is a vessel full," cried a bearded soldier, advancing; "drink, friend."

"Hold," said Fazil, "he is a Hindu; he will not take it from you. Where is the kullal? Let him get some."

"Here, great sir," said the man, advancing with a brass vessel full. "Who is he? May he take water from me?"

"He is a Mahratta," replied Fazil.

"Then there is no fear," added the kullal, and he knelt down and poured a little into Bulwunt's mouth, who drank it eagerly, and, laying hold of the vessel itself, took a long draught, which seemed to revive him; while the kullal, untying the scarf about his chin, wetted it with water and applied it to the wound; and, removing his turban, also wetted his head.

This treatment soon revived Bulwunt, who now sat up and passed his hand dreamily over his eyes, but did not speak.

"He seems recovering," said the Duffadar to Fazil, who had been pulled to one side and was held by two men, though his arms were untied. "So far thou art fortunate, young sir; but, in the name of the saints, why didst thou strike him down? Was this well? 'Twas but yesterday that the KÓtwal swore on the KÔrÁn that he would have the right arm of the first brawler who should do murder: pity such fate should befall thee, young as thou art! Are there not enough of the Shah's enemies abroad to try thy weapons upon, without mixing in midnight brawls? But speak to thy friend, if friend he is. It may have been a hasty blow, deeply regretted."

"Sir, you are under some extraordinary mistake," said Fazil, who had several times tried to interrupt the speaker. "I am not the man who did this. Ho! Bulwunt, Bulwunt!" he continued, "speak if you can, and fear not. I am here, and these are friends."

"Meah," said the poor fellow very faintly, "I am badly hurt. I may die, Ai Narayun! Ai BhugwÂn!—Water, Meah! I am faint and sick,"—and he fell back almost insensible.

"Loose my arms, good sir," cried Fazil impatiently; "I am no thief to run away. If there be a Hindu among you, give him some water. I may not do so."

"Let him go," said the Duffadar to the men, "there is some mistake here, I think, and no enmity between them; and do thou, Jewun Singh, fetch a vessel of water—he will drink from thy hand freely."

Fazil's first act on being released was to examine the wound, which was severe, and required care. The sabre of Maloosray had cut deep into the neck, close to the shoulder, and the loss of blood had been very great. A little higher up and the wound must have been instantly fatal. To wring out the scarf which the kullal had placed upon it, and replace it wetted, was Fazil's first care, and in this the Duffadar and some of the men now lent a willing hand. Fresh cool water was also brought by the man who had been sent for it, and Bulwunt Rao, having again drunk freely, sat up supported by his young lord.

"Ask him now, Duffadar Sahib," said Fazil, "whether it was I who wounded him, and, on his reply, give me liberty or not as seems good to you. Speak, Bulwunt Rao, did I hurt you?"

"Now may his tongue rot who says so," replied the wounded man, looking wildly about him. "But thou art safe, Meah!—and did they escape?"

"Who?" asked the Duffadar sharply.

"Tannajee Maloosray, the friend of Sivaji BhÓslay," returned Bulwunt. "People know of him, perhaps!"

"Tannajee Maloosray? Thou art dreaming, friend," said the Duffadar, with an incredulous smile. "Tannajee dared no more enter Beejapoor than—than——"

"Than you, good sir, dare go to him, I suppose," said Fazil, ending the sentence. "Nevertheless, he was here, and but for a mischance would have been lying dead there."

"Tannajee here!" mused the Duffadar; "this must, then, be some deep plot, and the city is full of plots. Sir," he said to the young Khan, "the mention of that name, and all the events we have seen, cause many suspicions in my mind which I am not competent to dispose of; therefore, whoever thou art, release is impossible till the morning, when I must give an account of all matters to the KÓtwal, who has cautioned the guards to be watchful against Mahratta parties and Moghul emissaries."

"Willingly," replied Fazil. "I could not leave him now, nor till his wound is dressed. As for myself, I am Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan, though I may not tell why I am disguised as an infidel, and why found in this place; suffice it to say it was in the King's service."

"Now may I receive my lord's pardon," cried the old man, presenting humbly the hilt of his sword as an offering. "Why did he not tell me sooner, and this offence and presumption would have been spared? Who among us does not know the valiant Afzool Khan, and have not all heard of his son Fazil Khan, the pillar of the state?" he added to the men, who fell back, saluting the young man with mingled curiosity and respect.

"Give me some water," said Fazil. "This dress and appearance are against me, Duffadar," he continued, laughing; "and if I had told who I was when ye seized me first, my arms might even have been bound a screw tighter perhaps. It does not signify now, for you only did your duty, as I can bear witness. Ah, the water is come—pour it over my hands, good fellow, and after the paint has disappeared, some of ye may know me."

"I know you, my lord," said a youth who pressed forward, as Fazil turned again to the light from the door where he had been washing his face. "Yes, father," he continued to the Duffadar, "this is truly the brave young Khan—no doubt of that;" and he stepped forward and touched Fazil's feet.

"Too dangerous, too dangerous," said the Duffadar, "for one like him. Yes, thou art right, Ashruf—now I know the face too; but the disguise was perfect; who could have guessed it? Too dangerous: and thou the only son of the noble Khan! Ah, sir, had any evil befallen thee——"

"No matter if I had died," cried Fazil, "it would have been in the Shah's service; but here are the physician and barber, and my friend's wound must be dressed; and do one of ye see for that kullal, who knows more of Tannajee than any one else. Where is he?"

While some of the men went to search for the kullal, the barber, having trimmed the lamp and increased the light by several wicks, unfastened a leathern case containing razors and other instruments, and selecting two crooked needles fitted with waxed silk thread, put them aside, while he washed the wound clean in a careful and confident manner. A few stitches brought the lips of the cut together, after which it was bound up with fresh leaves of the neem tree, which cooled the wound and refreshed the patient.

All this having been effected, Bulwunt Rao was carefully raised up and borne by several of the men to the chowree, or guard-room, which was hard by, but at the opposite side of the quarter to that in which the Lalla had been lodged.