The Afghans who had entered the room with their chief, or stood on the ladder outside, burst into rude laughter at remembering the murder of the unfortunate Jew.
"Have you never heard what the Beloochees did with the Feringhee doctor who ventured amongst them?" pursued the chief. "Did they not believe that if they killed him, his body would be changed into ducats? and so he was slain in his bed, and his corpse hung up for fifteen days. The Beloochees finding this was in vain, cut up the doctor's papers into little bits, and mixed them with the mortar of a house which the chief was building, in hopes that it would presently be adorned with a layer of gold.* I have more faith in getting gold from a live Feringhee than a dead one, or I might take a lesson from the Beloochees." Assad Khan laughed, and his followers echoed his laugh.
* This horrible story is given as a fact by the traveller, General Ferrier.
"Bid him send for paper and ink. I'll write to Calcutta for money; anything, anything to get out of this den of bloodthirsty tigers!"
Writing materials were readily produced. Denis had difficulty in tracing intelligible letters with the reed pen, and though he was a very courageous man, his hand was scarcely as steady as usual. A short note, however, was written, which the suspicious Assad Khan made Walter translate twice over before he gave it to an Afghan who was to bear it to the nearest Government official in India, who would transmit it to Calcutta.
As the chief now looked contented, and almost good-humoured, Walter took occasion to complain of the wretched food, and of the rude insolence to which the captives had been subjected. He appealed to the chief's better feelings, in hopes that such might exist. Denis made his companion translate a request that the door which communicated with the court-yard might now be left open, but the Afghans be strictly prohibited from invading the privacy of the captives.
This trifling boon was readily accorded. Assad Khan also promised that better food should be sent. He remained for some time longer in conversation with Walter, the chief gratifying his curiosity by asking many questions regarding India and England, and trying pertinaciously to find out why the Kafirs had entered his country. He declared that they must be Government spies.
At last the long interview came to a close. The chief and his followers descended the stairs, and almost till midnight might be seen in the courtyard smoking hookahs, telling stories, and singing their wild native airs.
As soon as the last Afghan had quitted the prison, Denis gave full vent to the indignation which was boiling over in his breast, certainly not sparing his superlatives, which were by no means of a kind complimentary to the Afghans.
"I'll not pay a rupee—not a pice of the ransom to fatten these rogues!" he exclaimed. "I'm no wretched Jew to be tortured and hanged! I'll make my escape from these thieves!"