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"Let him speak again," said the blind man. "Where is he? He has gone out, I think," answered the other. "Call him back, Hidayetullah. Take others and bring him back. I must hear his voice again," urged the faquir. "He will come again, Moulvie Saheb, he is often here," said the short man soothingly. "I know him well. He will be here to-morrow."
"See, Hidayetullah," said the blind faquir "when next he comes, say then to me, 'May I bring thee tobacco, Pir Saheb, if he be sitting near, but say 'May I bring thee tobacco, Moulvie Saheb, if he be sitting afar off. If this, speak to him across the room that I may hear his voice in answer, and call him by his name, Abdulali Habbibullah.
"It is he," cried one, a squat, broad-shouldered fellow, as they stood at gaze, and long knives flashed. "Oho, Spy! Aha, Dog! For what hast thou come?" asked one burly fellow as he advanced warily upon the intruder, who backed slowly to the angle of the high walls. "To die, Hidayetullah. To die, Nazir Ali Khan. To die slaying!
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