"And then, some fine night, Hare Sahib's throat? I am not afraid of death, Umballa. I have faced it too many times. Make an end of me at once or leave me to rot here, my answer will always be the same. I will not become a dishonorable tool. You have offered me freedom and jewels. No; I repeat, I will free all slaves, abolish the harems, the buying and selling of flesh; I will make a man of every poor devil of a coolie who carries stones from your quarries."
Umballa laughed. "Then remain here like a dog while I put your golden daughter on the throne and become what the British Raj calls prince consort. She'll rebel, I know; but I have a way." He stepped outside and closed the door.
"Umballa?"
"Well?"
"Kit, my daughter? Good God, what is she doing here when I warned her?" Hare tugged furiously at his chains. "Durga Ram, you have beaten me. State your terms and I will accept them to the letter.… Kit, my beautiful Kit, in this hellhole!"
"Ah, but I don't want you to accept now. I was merely amusing myself." The door shut and the bolt shot home.
Hare fell upon his knees. "My head, my head! Dear God, save me my reason!"
* * * * * *
The moment Kathlyn arrived at the animal cages of her father she called for Ahmed.
"My father?"