CHAPTER THE TENTH
The Delhi Road
"Just overhaul him, doctor," said Lumsden, when he reached his quarters with Ahmed. "He has had a narrow squeak."
"Hair singed, eyes a trifle inflamed; nothing else wrong," said the doctor, after a rapid examination. "Who tied you up, youngster?"
"Let us begin at the beginning," Lumsden interposed. "What were you doing in that hut?"
Ahmed told his story in as few words as possible. The officers did not interrupt him until he began to relate what he had heard the pretended fakir say about the Maulavi. Then Lumsden brought his fist down heavily on the table before him and said—
"That's the rascal I saw at Lahore a few months ago, without a doubt—a tall, lean, lantern-jawed fellow with a beak like the old Duke's. They told me he seemed to be very busy, though no one knew what his business was. Now, Ahmed, could you judge by what you heard whether this fakir had spoken to any other men in the corps?"
"I do not think he had, sahib. He was persuading these men to speak to the others."
"Very well. Go on with your story."