Ali Khan himself unlocked and flung open the door. "Here is your chief!" he exclaimed, manfully facing his foes.
Ali's sudden appearance somewhat startled Mustapha, but far more was he startled by a loud voice of command which suddenly rang through the court-yard behind him—
"A pistol levelled at your chief! can ye behold it, Pathans, and not strike down the villain! Seize him—seize the false traitor!"
The faithful Mir Ghazan dashed forward, and seized Mustapha by the throat. There was a brief desperate struggle between the two men, in which the pistol went off. Its contents were lodged in the brain of Mustapha.
"Shot by his own pistol—the judgment of God!" exclaimed Walter, for it was he who had given the order, as the bleeding corpse of Mustapha fell heavily from the height to the ground.
"The judgment of God!" repeated many voices with subdued awe, as if he who spake the words was a prophet. Walter stood amongst the wild mountaineers as one in command.
"What is all this?" he said to the chief, who, springing down the steps, was now warmly embracing his deliverer. "What has caused this mad tumult?"
"The tribe are weary of a chief who is a Christian," was Ali Khan's brief reply.
"The tribe!" repeated Walter. "Not half of them are present. And do men without sense of religion," he continued, looking sternly around, "men who break the laws of him whom they call their Prophet"—(he pointed indignantly to the traces of the drunken revel)—"do such pretend to zeal for their faith!" The Moslems cowered beneath the Englishman's glance and scathing words. "We will know what is indeed the will of the tribe. Mir Ghazan, Hossein Ghazi, summon every man to meet us here to-morrow at sunrise; let none be absent. And in the meantime, remove the corpse of that traitor."
"We'll throw it to the jackals," exclaimed Mir Ghazan.