"The dickens you do!" Amber whistled inaudibly, his eyes narrowing as he pondered the man. "You protest a lot, Salig Singh. If you're so much at my service … why, prove it."
By way of reply Salig Singh lifted his sword in its scabbard from its fastenings at his side and, with a magnificent gesture, cast it clanking to the floor between them. A heavy English army-pattern revolver followed it. The Rajput spread out his hands. "Thou art armed, my lord," he said, "I, at thy mercy. If thou dost misjudge my purpose in causing thee to be brought hither, my life is in thy hands."
"Oh, yes." Amber nodded. "That's very pretty. But presuming I chose to take it?"
"Thou art free as the winds of the morning. See, then." Salig Singh strode to the outer door and threw it open. "The way of escape is clear—not even locked."
The lamplight fell across the stone landing and made visible the waiting boat with Dulla Dad sitting patiently at the oar.
"I see," assented Amber. "Well?"
Salig Singh shut the door gently. "Is there more to say?" he enquired.
"I have shown thee that thou art free."
"Oh, so far as that goes, you've demonstrated pretty clearly that you're not afraid of me. Of course I know as well as you do that at the first shot Dulla Dad would slip out to the lake and leave me here to die like a rat in a corner."
"Thou knowest, lord, that no man in Khandawar would do thee any hurt.
Thy person is sacred—"
"That's all bosh. You don't expect me to believe that you still stick to that absurd fiction of yours—that I'm Rutton?"