"None, sahib; but that is not strange. The missy sahib would fear to send a messenger, lest he should betray your presence. And it is harder now than it was for folk to go in and out of the city. This very day the order has gone forth that none shall enter or depart without a written word. A man—his name is Gordohan Dass, and he lives at Lattu—was going out at the Delhi gate this morning in a shigram, and the guard stopped him and searched his cart, and there they found cartridges and bullets. They were but for his own protection, he declared. Nevertheless they beat him, and took his cart and all that was in it, and sent him to the Kotwali. There is little hope of news until the sahibs come and take the city."
"Will that ever be? What are they doing? Will they never begin the assault?"
"In Allah's good time, sahib. They are waiting on the Ridge; none can move them. Why they wait so long who can tell? The people say in the city that they are but five hundred now; that the colonels eat grain like their horses; that three generals have killed themselves before their troops for shame. But it cannot be true, sahib, for else why do the sepoys always come back discomfited? No; Allah is great, and the sahibs will yet come and punish the evil-doers, and then all will be well."
"But it is so long! How long is it since you found me in the street, and brought me here?"
"Two moons and more, sahib."
"Two months! And we have heard nothing all that time of Mary. I must go, Kaluja. In this dress none would recognize me; I can pass as one of their own hakims. You must help me to escape from the city."
"Nay, sahib; it is not safe. And besides, you are too weak—you would fall in the street."
"No, I am strong enough now. See, I can walk quite well."
There was a brief silence; then Ahmed heard a groan.
"Did I not say so, sahib? It would be folly; it would kill you. You must be patient."