“Yes—yes,” he cried; “I know the priest is missing. Send—send at once. No, no; we must go and see.”
He waited for no elephant, but mounted the first horse that was offered, and rode with the officers and a large escort to the temple gates, from whence the chief Brahmin was about to set forth with the whole of his followers to meet the body of his dead friend, the Wazir.
The coming of the Rajah checked all this, he fiercely ordered the Brahmins to be watched.
“Where is this missing priest?” he said to the old man sternly.
“Thy servant does not know,” said the old man, beginning to tremble.
“Where did you send him yesterday, when the English officer was charged with theft?”
The old Brahmin’s jaw dropped, and he sank upon his knees and raised his hands for mercy.
“Bring him up,” said the Rajah; and a few minutes later the whole party was standing at the back of the great idol, where one of the stones was drawn aside, and a couple of the guard entered the cell-like place, to lift out the half-demented prisoner, who crouched upon the floor.
In a few minutes he began to recover and gaze wildly round, till his eyes fell upon his kneeling superior, and he cried piteously:
“I did all you told me. I fetched the bag, and was hiding it here, but I was seized, and the jewels taken away. It has been horrible—horrible,” he groaned; “worse than death.”