“Slay all the Rajah’s enemies who come and attack us,” said Wyatt firmly.
“And if my son—dies?” she groaned.
“Hold Soojeepur till others decide what is best. Go to your son, madam, and help the doctor to save his life.”
“Yes; but those two? You have not slain them?”
“The Rajah’s orders are that you should be protected, madam, and that their lives should be spared,” said Dick frankly, and the Ranee uttered a sigh of relief as he turned away.
“We’re losing time,” said Wyatt impatiently as he hurried out. “Dick, lad, our work’s cut out to-night, and you must help me all you can. Hark! you can hear them here. The news is spreading through the place, and the people are crowding up. The enemy will have set up the report that we have poisoned the Rajah and seized the place. Heaven only knows how matters will turn out, but we are going to hold the palace and the great temple to the death, and if we have to use the guns—well, it is no fault of ours.”
Dick said nothing; he merely gave his companion a firm pressure of the hand, and walked down with him into the beautiful vestibule, which was now filled with the Rajah’s guards, two of whose leaders approached to meet them, looking as if in doubt whether to treat them as enemies or friends.
Wyatt stepped forward and offered his hand to both, while the fierce-looking picked men all stood blocking the way, their flashing tulwars in their hands, while both the English officers’ were sheathed.
There was a momentary hesitation on the others’ part, and then they passed their swords into their left hands and accepted the salutation of friendship.
“We have just left the Rajah’s side,” said Wyatt.