For clear from the King's lips came the words, "Ghorah to----"
This time, however, that clang of steel on stone blurred the closing tones of the King's lips and the Châran's rose on it clear.
"Badshah to his eighth."
Birbal gasped, the King started, the courtiers stirred swiftly. But Birbal's quick wit was the first to recover from surprise.
"Repeat the move, O Châran of Jalâl-ud-din Mahomed Akbar, Emperor of India! It hath not been fully heard!"
Instantly the clang repeated itself, and the words followed high, strident, unmistakable.
"By the order of the King, badshah to his eighth."
"But we protest," cried the Makhdûm-ul'-Mulk, finding voice, and Akbar rising, looked angrily downward and prepared to speak.
"Great sire!" interrupted Birbal advancing on the very board itself--"we protest also against disorder. A Châran's voice duly challenged, is the voice of the King. Naught can alter it, save treachery. Where is the treachery here? He speaks that which he hears. Question the woman. Ask her what she heard?"
A great wave of sudden curiosity swept over the King's mind. What would this woman say? So far Birbal was right. She could be punished for treachery--but----