"Thou speakest well, Babu," said the warder. "But what befell King Bhoya when the graven image had thus ended his saying?"
"That, good jailer, is another story, and if you please to hear it another night I will do my poor best to satisfy you."
"Well, the hour is late." The warder rose to his feet and resumed his official gruffness. "Come, rise; it is time I locked your fetters; and, in good sooth, mine is no golden key."
He chuckled as he watched the prisoners file one by one into the shed. Following them, he quickly locked each in turn to his staple in the wall and went out, bolting and double locking the door behind him.
"You did well, my friend," whispered Desmond in English to the Babu.
"My heart flutters like the wings of a bulbul," answered the Babu; "but I am content, sahib."
"But say, Surendra Nath," remarked one of the Maratha captives, "last time you told us that story you said nothing of the golden key."
"Ah!" replied the Babu, "you are thinking of the story told by the second graven image in King Vikramâditya's throne. I will tell you that to-morrow."
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
In which our hero is offered freedom at the price of honour; and Mr. Diggle finds that he has no monopoly of quotations.