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Are the servants of the Body fools who have followed the hither, losing trace of thee no single instant since thou didst slay the Bengali who bore the Token to thee? Am I blind I, Salig Singh, thy childhood's playmate, the Grand Vizier of thy too-brief rule, to whom thou didst surrender the reins of government of Khandawar? I know thee; thou canst not deceive me.
Woman-like she shifted to suit his humour. "He is a man: I answer for that, though ... he is no fool. Still, when the hour strikes, what he must, that will he endure for the sake of that which Naraini hath promised him." "Or for another," Salig Singh growled into his beard. "I did not hear." "I said naught. I am distraught." "Be of good heart," she comforted him still further.
"Now see here," began Amber, designedly continuing his half of the conversation in English far too much misunderstanding had already been brought about by his too-ready familiarity with Urdu. He paused a little to collect his thoughts, then resumed: "Now see here, you're Salig Singh, Maharana of Khandawar?" This much he recalled from his conversation with Labertouche a couple of hours gone.
Thou wouldst have sweet patience in the waiting, Salig Singh!... Let matters rest as they be, my lord" this a trace imperiously. "Leave the man to me: I stand sponsor for him until the Gateway shall have received him and and perhaps for a little afterwards." "Thou art right as ever." He lifted his gaze to meet hers and his eyes flamed. "I leave my life on your knees, Naraini.
"And to those who remain in the outer darkness on that fifth day, Salig Singh ?" "God is merciful," said the Rajput piously. "Very well. If that is all, I think I will now leave you, Salig Singh," said Amber, fondling his pistol meaningly.
Hearing which, Amber caught the coot by the leg and found that he had grasped the arm of Salig Singh, whose eyes were both monstrous emeralds without any whites whatever. And Salig Singh tapped him on the shoulder and began to say over and over again in a whisper...
"To the Gateway of Swords, hazoor." "Oh, yes; to be sure. But where in thunderation is it?" "That my lord doth know." "You think so? Well, have it your own way. But suppose I decline the invitation?" Salig Singh looked bored. "Since thou hast come so far," he said, "thou wilt go farther, hazoor." "Meaning by force?" "Of thine own will.
Rutton thought he would be able to help you, and knew that he would be loyal to his master's memory." "Finally, what about that photograph?" "You've Salig Singh to thank for its return, I fancy. I had nothing to do with it. But they were bent on luring you to Naraini's bower, and they figured that after receiving it you'd go anywhere to meet the man who returned it. By the way, where's Ram Nath?"
But Salig had to deliver up a Har Dyal Rutton to the Council, so Naraini was set to seduce you. Their plans only required that you should be madly infatuated with her for a couple of days; after that ..." Labertouche turned down his thumb significantly.
At the top they turned aside and passed through a deserted hanging garden, and then, through a heavy door which Salig Singh unlocked with a private key, into a vast, vacant room, with a lofty ceiling supported by huge, unwieldy pillars of stone, sculptured with all the loves and wars of Hindu mythology.
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