The prisoner’s heart began to beat more hopefully, and he expressed his thanks towards the callous brute.
“But on conditions,” resumed Pir Baksh. “First, I must have five thousand rupees—a promise in writing for that amount.”
“You shall have it,” said Tynan eagerly. “My father will not grudge it.”
The subadar nodded his head solemnly and went on:
“Secondly, thou must write me a chit in English and Urdu, acknowledging that thou dost owe thy life to my mercy and loyalty.”
“I will do that, and never shall I forget thy goodness.”
“Thou shalt also write that I, Pir Baksh, was loyal to the Kumpani Bahadur, though forced to appear disloyal. That I tried to restrain the sepoys during the attack on the fortress, and to save the lives of the English officers, but was prevented by the rebels, who threatened to kill me as a traitor ... What! Thou dost hesitate?”
Tynan had turned pale. Could he sign that lying document and be himself a traitor? Had not Pir Baksh shot the colonel?
“No, subadar, I cannot do that,” he said, with hesitation, not decision.
“Very good, sahib.”