"Agreed!" Half for the temple and half for himself; and the abolishment of the seven leopards. "With this stipulation: Ramabai is yours, but the white people are to be mine."
The priests signified assent.
And Umballa smiled in secret. Ramabai would be dead on the morrow.
"There remains the king," said the chief priest.
Umballa shrugged.
The chief priest stared soberly at the lamp above his head. The king would be, then, Umballa's affair.
"He is ill?"
"He is moribund … Silence!" warned Umballa.
The curtains became violently agitated. They heard the voice of the young priest outside raised in protest, to be answered by the shrill tones of a woman.
"You are mad!"