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Without answering Rutton turned the box over in his palm, his slender fingers playing about the bosses of the relief work; there followed a click and one side of it swung open. The Bengali fell back a pace with a whisper of awe real or affected: "The Token, hazoor!" Amber himself gasped slightly. Unheeded, the box dropped to the floor.

"There is no need, perhaps, to tell thee, hazoor," Salig Singh muttered, bending to Amber's ear, "that sitting upon this throne, in this Hall of Audience, for generations thy forefathers ruled this land, making and administering its laws, meting out justice, honoured of all men and served, my lord, for generations by my forebears, the faithful stewards of thy House; even as I would prove faithful...."

"I am here, hazoor. Turn you and knock upon the door thus" rapping the gunwale of the boat "thrice." Amber obeyed, wrought up now to so high a pitch of excitement and suspense that he could hardly have withdrawn had he wished to and been able to force Dulla Dad to heed him.

Till then and forever I am your slave, hazoor: the dust beneath your feet. Now, I go." And with a haste that robbed the courtesy of its grace, the Bengali salaamed, then wheeled square about and, hitching his clothing round him, made off with a celerity surprising in one of his tremendous bulk, striking directly into the heart of the woods.

"Make your peace with the Bell in what manner you will, babu; it is no concern of mine. Go, now, while yet time is granted you to avoid a longer journey this night." "Hazoor!" "Go." Rutton pointed to the door, his voice imperative. Upon this the babu abandoned argument, realising that further resistance were futile.

"Hazoor, it is not wise to speak a name upon the water, where voices travel far." "Dulla Dad!" "Hazoor, I may not say!" "I think, Dulla Dad, you'd better. If I lose patience " "Upon my head be your safety, hazoor! See, you can fire, and thereafter naught can trouble me. But I, with a single sweep of this paddle, can overturn us.

The Bengali nodded impudently at Amber. "It is my will." "Shabash! I bear a message, hazoor, from the Bell." "You are the Mouthpiece of the Voice?" "That honor is mine, hazoor. For the rest I am " "Behari Lal Chatterji," interrupted Rutton impatiently; "solicitor of the Inner Temple disbarred; anointed thief, liar, jackal, lickspittle, and perjurer I know you."

"Why ask?" panted the Gurkha. "Did I not stand behind you and see that you did not throw the knife? Am I a dog to stand by and see an innocent man yoked to a crime?" He laughed shortly. "Am I a fool to forget how great is the generosity of Kings? This way, hazoor!" "Why call me King?" Amber hurdled a heap of offal and picked up his pace again. "Yet you will find me generous, though but a sahib."

"Hazoor, why dost thou need ask? Thou dost know." The Rajput, on his part, steadfastly refused to return to English. "But you are, aren't you?" "By thy favour, it is even so." "And you think I'm Rutton Har Dyal Rutton, as you call him, the former Maharana who abdicated in your favour?" The Rajput shrugged expressively, an angry light in his dark, bold eyes.

Be content, hazoor, for a little time; then shall you see that naught of harm is intended. My life be forfeit if I speak not truth, hazoor!" "You have said it," said Amber grimly, "Row on." After all, he considered, it might still be Labertouche.