While search was being made for the kullal, Fazil's thoughts reverted painfully to his father and sister. He could not leave Bulwunt without exposing himself to further suspicion; but he might at least send news of his safety, and his application to the Duffadar for a messenger was promptly acceded to.

"Surely, Khan," was the prompt reply, "I could hardly refuse your going yourself, if you asked; but it is better you stayed. Men's tongues are bad, and I am only a humble man. Verily I will send my own son Ashruf, and he will do the errand carefully. He is gone—that is, my son Ashruf—my lord, to see the barber home, and will be here directly. A brave youth, O Khan, and with a large heart. Does my lord remember the Friday's fight with the Moghuls in the plain by Allapoor? Well, in that my boy did good service, and in killing one of the enemy got a sharp cut himself over the arm, but he did not care for it; and was he not fighting on the strength of the King's salt?"

"Indeed, I remember it well, Duffadar," returned Fazil, "for I was beaten down, and wellnigh killed myself, when this poor friend of mine here rescued me. How, Bulwunt! was it not that day?"

"Ay, Meah, that very day," he said faintly; "the last battle Bulwunt Rao will ever see in thy service. I am very faint, Meah. These films before my eyes seem to precede death. I pray thee leave me not here."

"Nay, fear not," replied Fazil; "the barber said there was no danger of life. Be of good heart, Bulwunt—no bones are cut; and though there is much weakness from loss of blood, you will soon be well. Get to sleep, we shall not leave before daylight."

"I do not fear, Meah. Death has no pain or regret for me. My only wish was to die in the service of your house. I am the last of my race, and have no one to mourn for me like thee, Meah! I would live for thee if it be the will of God; and but for this, death would be welcome."

"Peace! do not speak, friend," returned Fazil; "go to sleep, and thou wilt be strong ere morning. Does not the barber, I tell thee, say there is no danger? so be comforted."

"None perhaps of life, Meah; but this arm, which was all I had to live for, it will never hold sword more, Meah—never, never!" and he sobbed like a child.

"Fear not," cried the Duffadar cheerily; "I have worse wounds on me than that, Rao Sahib, and yet my arm can strike a blow for the Shah; so be comforted, and get to sleep."

Bulwunt sighed. "If I had only slain him," he said, "and revenged the dead, then I could have died; or if this arm had gone for that, its best service in life would have been done. I shall never have such a chance again, Meah. But the gods have need of him, and he has the protection of DÉvi. He and Sivaji BhÓslay both have it, as ye will see hereafter, Meah. Who can resist them?"

"This is the youth of whom I spake, Khan Sahib," said the Duffadar; "a brave boy—a brave boy he always was."

And truly there was much in the appearance of the youth to corroborate this. An open, dare-devil, good-humoured countenance, with bright merry eyes, which, as he spoke, seemed to close up till two bright sparks only were visible; and a wide bow-shaped mouth, about which fun, and perhaps some mischief, played in perpetual smiles, conveyed an impression of recklessness of danger, as a lithe rapidity of movement did of extreme activity of body, and perhaps endurance.

"A brave youth, doubtless, Duffadar Sahib," said Fazil; "his eye speaks for him; a boy to be proud of. How sayst thou, lad? Wilt thou do an errand for the son of Afzool Khan?"

"Ay will I," replied the boy promptly, while he presented his sword-hilt to the young Khan, as his father had done; "and gladly too; and if my lord will pardon me for saying it, I have long known him. Who does not know the brave son of a brave father? Ah, Meah Sahib! if I had only been on a horse when Afzool Khan's Paigah dashed into the Moghul's that Friday, I would have struck a blow with you. I watched you as you rode by close to the standard-bearer. Then there was a fierce fight, and men said you were cut down. Ah! I was only on foot, for we are too poor to ride; and I was—a little wounded," he added, dropping his eyes modestly, "and father led me away. But for that, Meah Sahib, I would have been with you, even on foot."

"Boldly spoken, and with a true heart, Ashruf!" exclaimed Fazil; "and if you do this errand carefully and quickly for me, you shall ride ever after with me in my troop—that is, if your father will permit it. Afzool Khan's stables have enough horses to find one for you. Of that, however, more hereafter. Go now to the house, ask for Goolab the nurse; tell her I am safe, but that Bulwunt Rao is wounded badly, and a palankeen must be sent for him with all speed, and my clothes and shawls put into it. If my father be asleep, he is not to be awakened, but my sister must know that I am safe. Now begone; here is my ring, which will pass you through the fort. Let us see how soon you will return."

"Come, ShÉkh Hoosein," said the lad, addressing a young man standing near; "we had better be two. Tie up thy waist-band tight, for we shall not draw breath till we reach the city gate. Come!"

Both loosened their waist-scarfs, and retied them tighter, and after a few words of caution from the Duffadar, they dashed down the street at full speed.

As they left, several of the men came in, leading the kullal by the end of his turban, with which his arms were tightly tied down. Bareheaded, covered with mud, and bleeding slightly from his nose, his face wearing an expression of fright and pain combined, Rama was a very different-looking person to what he had appeared when Fazil Khan and Bulwunt entered his shop. His first impulse was to cast himself on the ground before Fazil, and lie at full length moaning. The men who were with him did not interfere. The act was a deprecation of anger which it would have been unmannerly to deny.

"Get up," cried Fazil; "get up, knave and liar! Say, was it I who wounded that poor fellow yonder?"

"Pardon! pardon! Noble Meah, pardon! Your slave will not rise till he has pardon," cried the man abjectly. "It was all a mistake; and how could I know the son of Afzool Khan? Pardon! and I will tell all I know."

"If thou dost not, hound! thou wilt hang upon the highest branch of the Goruk Imlee to feed the crows before morn," replied Fazil. "Get up! If thou tellest the truth, I give thee kowl; if not—if I detect one word of lie, nothing can save thee. Dost thou hear? Rise!"

"Get up, Kafir!" cried the man who held the turban, giving it a jerk, which caused a corresponding exclamation of pain, "Don't you hear what my lord says to you? He will give you pardon if you speak the truth. Get up, and tell him all. My lord," he continued to Fazil, "he knows much, and he has some papers which one of the fellows—Maloosray, he says—dropped as he left the house. We wanted them, but he said you would pardon him if he gave them himself. We found him hiding in the wood stack near his still, and the fool must needs struggle and try to wrestle with one of our men, and so got a fall; but he is not hurt."

"Loose my arms, noble Meah—tell them to loose my arms. They are swelling already, and I am sick with pain," said the kullal, rising.

"If my lord allows me, I will loose him. There!" continued the soldier, on receiving Fazil's sign in the affirmative; "see thou speak the truth, else I will tie them tighter than ever, and they will not be loosened again while thou art alive."

"My lord, don't threaten me, or I shall lose my senses," said the kullal, the horrible vision of hanging, as he had seen many hang to the branches of that famous tree, coming vividly to his mind. "If there be a good Hindu among you, give me a drink of water. Ah, my arms! my arms!" he cried, sitting down again, and sobbing as the rope was loosened.

"Here is water," said one of the men, advancing with a brass vessel full. "I am a Rajpoot—drink."

The draught refreshed him, and he began his tale. It was in the main correct, and as we have already related it. "Tannajee and his companions had been at his shop only a few minutes before Fazil and Bulwunt came in. They had been very careful, and before they entered the house placed scouts to watch all the approaches. They spoke in low tones, and, beyond a few words now and then, he had caught nothing of their conversation. All that he could gather was, that Pahar Singh and a Gosai from Tooljapoor were expected, and they were so impatient for their arrival, that two of the men had by turns gone to see after them."

"Had they ever been at your shop before?" asked Fazil.

"Yesterday one of the men was there twice to say the place would be wanted in the evening," replied the kullal; "and he gave me ten rupees to say I had neither spirits nor ganja; so I told every one I had none, and no one stayed but you."

"You might have suspected they were after no good," said the Duffadar. "Why did you not give warning here?"

"Ah, sir, I am a poor fellow," returned the man, "with a large family; and if gentlemen sometimes like a private room to smoke, to play, or to talk in, am I to forbid them? Would they not get it elsewhere?"

"True enough—thou art not to blame," said Fazil; "but the papers—what of them?"

"After you were taken away, my lord," replied the kullal, "I took the lamp inside towards the door, for I thought I saw blood on the ground, which indeed there was; and one of the two men who escaped must have been wounded. I followed the trace of blood to the door of the yard, and there I found this little bag, noble sir; here it is."

As he spoke he produced a small silken bag, apparently filled with papers, from under his waist-cloth, and handed it to Fazil. In it were several letters, and bundles of accounts written in the Mahratta character.

"I cannot read these, and they may be of importance; so we must wait, for this poor fellow of mine is asleep," said Fazil.

"No, Meah, I was dozing while you spoke, and am easier now, for the bandage has cooled my wound. Papers? What papers?" said Bulwunt, rising slightly, and supporting himself on his left arm. "Give them to me."

"There are some in Mahratta, which Tannajee, or one of his companions, dropped in their flight. Can you make out what they are, Bulwunt?" asked Fazil.

"I will try, Meah; put the light here. Stay; open them separately. I forget that I have but one arm now."

The papers were given to him one by one, and his eye glanced over several in succession as if of no importance; but one appeared to interest him greatly, and Fazil observed his eyes return, to the commencement after having looked over it hastily, and his lips to move as if reading it word by word, while the expression of his face changed to one of intense concern.

"Yes, Meah, this is indeed important," he said; "but no one must hear it but thyself or thy father. Listen," he continued, whispering; "that is from the old Gosai at Tooljapoor, about those letters the King has obtained. Those whom they concern are mentioned in feigned names, and it will puzzle me not a little to understand their meaning fully; but we have a clue in what occurred at the temple, and I will unravel it when we get home. Now my eyes are too weary. Stay, there may be something from Sivaji.... No," he continued, after he had looked at them one by one, "there are none from him, but several from Yessjee, who is his friend. No, they are too wary to write letters; but no doubt there is much intrigue afoot, Meah—much."

"Enough," replied Fazil; "now go to sleep, Bulwunt, till daylight brings people from the house. I too will rest, if I can, after all this excitement, with your permission, Duffadar Sahib——"

But the old man had lain down on the floor while the papers were being examined, and was fast asleep; so also were the men of the guard, except one sitting at the doorway as sentinel, the gurgle of whose hooka mingled with an occasional snore from a sleeper on the floor. Those about the kullal, who had been removed to a little distance, asked how he was to be disposed of.

"Take him to his house," said Fazil, "and keep him there till he is wanted. Go with them, Rama," he continued to the man, "and be ready when I send for thee. I will answer to the KÓtwal for the night's events."

"That is all I wanted," he replied. "My lord is very kind and merciful."

"Not yet. I have much to ask and much to hear. If thou canst speak the truth, well for thee; if not, beware!"