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Updated: May 3, 2025
Jaimihr answered that Cunningham and Mahommed Gunga were both on Alwa's crag. He also swore that as Alwa's prisoner he had been able to over-hear the Rangars' plans. The Maharajah was bewildered, as Jaimihr had expected that he would be. And with just as Eastern, just as muddle-headed, just as dishonest reasoning, he made up his mind to play a double game with everybody, too.
"Do you think," asked Cunningham "that this brute Jaimihr really wants to make you Maharanee?" "I couldn't say," she shuddered. "You know, there have been several instances of European women having practically sold themselves to native princes; there have been stories I have heard them of English women marrying Rajahs, and regretting it.
But Alwa walked up openly drew his heavy sabre and saved the situation for her. "That may help to jog his recollection of the bargain!" he laughed, severing the rope with a swinging cut and peering over to see, if he could, how Jaimihr landed. By a miracle the Prince landed on his feet.
Back came Cunningham's close-formed squadrons, straight through the writhing mass again; and now the whole of Jaimihr's army took to its heels, just as part of the five-feet-thick stone palace-wall succumbed to the attacks of crowbars and crashed down in the roadway, disclosing a dark vault on the other side. Jaimihr made a rush for the six-horse carriage, and tried vainly to get it started.
Jaimihr, unknowingly, fitted his plan into his brother's by determining to get on the scene early enough to have first crack at the treasure. He meant to get away with that, leave his brother to deal with Alwa's men, circle round, and then attack his brother from the rear.
And, in partial confirmation of the jest she unintentionally overheard, she saw no servant go to the chuckling spring to fill a water-jar. She recalled that Jaimihr only sipped as much as he could dip up in the hollow of his hand, and that physical exertion and suffering of the sort that he had undergone produces prodigious thirst in that hot, dry atmosphere.
Speaking like an omen from the deepest shadow, the sweeper called to Jaimihr. "Sahib, thy palace burns! Sahib, thy prisoner runs! Haste, sahib! Call thy men and hasten back! Thy palace is in flames the Rangars come to " As a raven, disturbed into night omen-croaking, he sent forth his news from utter blackness into nerve-strung tension.
First, she knew what Jaimihr's ambition was every man in Howrah knew how he planned to seize Miss McClean when the moment should be propitious and her Eastern wisdom warned her that Jaimihr, foiled, would stop at nothing to contrive vengeance.
The Prince sat restlessly in a high, carved wooden chair; there was no other furniture at all, and Ali Partab was left standing between his guards. The Prince drew a pistol from inside his clothing. "Leave us alone!" he ordered; and the guards went out, closing the door behind them. "I gave no orders for your capture," said Jaimihr, with a smile. "Then, let me go," grinned Ali Partab.
A few frightened night-wanderers ran at sight of them, hiding down side streets, but when they brought up at last outside Jaimihr's palace-gate they had so far escaped recognition. And that meant that no one would carry word to Jaimihr or his men.
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