"And what was the name of the Angrezi sahib?"
"His name?--It was Higli--no, Digli Sahib--accursed be the day I first saw him!"
Desmond drew a long breath.
"And what became of the bibi and the chota bibi?"
"They were taken away."
"Whither?"
"I do not know."
The answer was glib; Desmond thought a little too glib.
"Why then, khansaman," he said, "I fear it would be vain for me to reason with the man I spoke of. He has eaten the salt of Merriman Sahib; his lord's injury is his also. But you acted for the best. Allah hafiz! that will be a morsel of comfort even if this man's knife should find its way between your ribs. Not every dying man has such consolation. Live in peace, good khansaman."
Desmond, who had been squatting in the Oriental manner--an accomplishment he had learnt with some pains at Gheria--rose to leave. The khansaman's florid cheeks again put on a sickly hue, and when the seeming lascar had gone a few paces he called him back.