The sibilant chirp of a grasshopper brought his fellow Thug to his side. Glaring eyes and chin thrown forward sufficed to indicate the cause of this danger signal. No words were needed. With one accord they retreated. Squirming across the veranda and along the path of the lengthening shadows they regained the shelter of the cypresses.
“Brother,” whispered one, “they have a jadu!”[H]
“Who shall dare to strike where the jungle-god reposes!” was the rejoinder.
“A snake without a head, ringed and shining! Saw one ever the like?”
“Let us escape, else we shall be slain.”
The trees swallowed them, and, although sought vengefully, they were never seen again by those whose behests they had not fulfilled.... Minutes passed, until the stout Kutub-ud-din, hiding near the gate with a horde of hirelings, grew impatient that his vice-regal throne in Bengal was not assured. So he growled an order and strode openly to the gate, where, in the Emperor’s name, he demanded of a wakeful sentry audience of Sher Afghán.
“My master sleeps,” was the answer. “The matter must wait.”
“It cannot wait. It concerns thy master’s safety. Here is Pir Muhammed Khan, Kotwal[I] of Agra, who says that two Thugs are within. We have come in all haste to warn Sher Afghán to search for the evil-doers.”
Now, the mere name of the dreaded clan was enough to alarm his hearer, who well knew that none could guard against a Thug’s deadly intent. Warning his comrades he unbound the door, but showed discretion in sending messengers to arouse Sher Afghán. Kutub-ud-din, thinking the Persian and the Englishmen had been killed half an hour earlier, deceived the guard still further by his earnestness. Giving directions that some should watch the walls without, while others searched every inch of the gardens, he, followed by a strong posse, went rapidly towards the house. Almost the first person he encountered was Sher Afghán himself. The young nobleman, awakened from sound sleep by strange tidings, no sooner recognized his visitor than his brow seamed with anger.