Colville looked around him warily. In the dark, unlighted, and tortuous streets of the city this poor man might easily be overtaken and murdered by these fanatics, if they were—as Colville did not doubt—still lurking watchfully about, so he said,
'Come with me to the Balla Hissar; I am quartered there, and can keep you in safety for the night; besides, your wounds must be dressed, and in the morning I would advise your instantly quitting Jellalabad.'
'As-taffur-ullah! that will I, sahib; and by the five keys of knowledge, I will never forget your kindness.'
The citadel was close by. There Colville took his new acquaintance past the sentries to the rooms assigned as his quarters, quaint and lofty apartments with marble floors, and walls covered with beautiful arabesques, splendid but comfortless, and, summoning the soldier who acted as his servant, with lights, some wine and bandages, he desired him to bathe and bind up the wounds of the old Afghan wanderer, who was on the point of sinking, and would have done so, but for some water which he took, dashed with brandy, despite the precepts of the Koran.
'You have had a narrow escape!' said Colville, looking at some of his bruises.
'It is perhaps useless to bind these wounds.'
'Why?'
'Because if a man is to die he will die.'
'But if a man is ailing surely he may be cured?'
'Yes,' replied the hadji, 'through the Koran.'