“Allah-din Khan too, loves money,” he answered. “We are alone Hazûr, so—there are some who would be alive to-day had they been able to give him what he asked.”
An immense relief would have swept across Helston’s mind had the shikari’s answer carried conviction. For it would have cut the knot of the difficulty on the spot. He knew that Mervyn was a poor man, and realised with intense satisfaction then that he himself was not. Whatever this freebooting chieftain might ask to set his captives free should be paid. It would be a mere matter for negotiation. But, unfortunately, in the light of his talk with Coates, the answer did not carry conviction—not entirely, though he tried to buoy himself up with the hope that it did.
“Where is Allah-din Khan’s village?” he said.
“His village? It is more like a fort, Hazûr. It is away among the mountains, nearly two days journey from here. They are heading straight for it now.”
Helston’s heart sank. A fort—a hill fort! Why, it would require an expedition to reduce such, and meanwhile, what would become of the captives? The only solution he saw was that of ransom, and that was, under the circumstances, by no means a reassuring one.
“Can you guide me to it, Hussein Khan?”
The man looked strangely troubled.
“I can do so,” he said, after a pause. “But it is putting the head between the tiger’s jaws, for then will not Allah-din Khan demand the price of three instead of the price of two? And the price he will name will not be small, Hazûr.”
The matter of price would have been nothing. But more and more did Helston conjecture a deeper motive to underly. One redeeming side of it, however, was that he did not think they would be in any immediate danger, and it would be hard if he could not find some way out of the impasse.
“This needs some planning out, Hussein Khan. Meanwhile we will return to the camp.”