"Hold thy light nearer, khitmutgar," said Minghal.
The beard came off, and there was the banijara revealed as a smooth-faced youth. The darwan uttered cries of amazement and reproach. Minghal gave a chuckle of satisfaction.
"Wah! I know thee who thou art," he said. "Did not my heart kindle when I beheld thee? As Asadullah that old dog Rahmut Khan comes to Delhi to trouble me; as a mean banijara the puppy comes to spy upon me that he may carry away the scent to the old dog. Verily it is a good day for thee, darwan, and thou shalt have five rupees—no, that is too much—two rupees, for bakshish. Go find that khansaman."
"I have sought for him, hazur, but found him not," said the khitmutgar.
"Go seek again."
The khitmutgar departed, and returned in a minute with Kaluja Dass, grave and imperturbable as ever.
"Where hast thou been?" demanded Minghal.
"Hazur, where could I be but in my own little place, sleeping the sleep of a just servant when his work is done?"
"Bring me the keys of the strong rooms below."
In these strong rooms the princes of Delhi, who had once owned the house, had kept their valuables, and on occasion their prisoners. They were now empty. The khansaman brought the keys. Ahmed was taken down by a narrow staircase like that which led to Dr. Craddock's hiding-place. A door was opened. He was pushed in, Minghal and the servants entered after him. The room was stone-walled, stone-flagged, and bare. There was no window, but a small grating high up in one of the walls; below it was an iron staple.