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Updated: May 15, 2025
He had ridden along that road hoping to overtake the two riders that now lay dead in the pit with the other victims of the thugs of which he knew nothing. They were bearing to him a secret message from his government, and he had ridden to Manabad to there take it from them lest in approaching the city of the Peshwa, full of seditious spies and cutthroats, the paper might be stolen.
But at Manabad he had learned that the two had passed, had ridden on; and then, perhaps because of converging different roads, he had missed them. But most extraordinarily, just one of the curious, tangented ways of Fate, the written order lay against his chest sewn between the double sole of a sandal.
"Were they servants of yours, Sahib these men who rode?" Barlow gave off but a little sliver of truth: "No," he answered; "but at Manabad men spoke of them passing this way, journeying to Poona, and if they were strangers to this district, it might be that they had taken the wrong road at the fork. But if you did not see them they will be ahead."
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