“Then I must tell you that I cannot accept your help at the price of silence. When I undertook this mission I knew its penalties. I am still prepared to abide by them. Let me remind you that it is I, not you, who can impose conditions within these four walls.”
Akhab Khan paled again. His was the temperament that shows anger by the token which reveals cowardice in some men; it is well to beware of him who enters a fight with bloodless cheeks and gray lips. But Roshinara sprang between them with an eager cry:
“What folly is this that exhausts itself on a point of honor? Does not every spy who brings us details of each gun and picket on the Ridge tell the sahib-log all that they wish to know of our strength and our dissensions? Will not the man who warned us of the presence of an officer-sahib in our midst to-day go back and sell the news of a sepoy regiment’s threat to murder the King? Have done with these idle words—let us to acts! Nawab-ji!”
“Heaven-born!” Malcolm’s guide advanced with a deep salaam.
“See to it that my orders are carried out. Mayhap thine own head may rest easier on its shoulders if there is no mischance.”
The nawab-ji bowed again, and assured the Presence that there would be no lapse on his part. Akhab Khan had turned away. His attitude betokened utter dejection, but the Princess, not the first of her sex to barter ambition for love, was radiant with hope.
“Go, Malcolm-sahib,” she whispered, “and may Allah guard you on the way!”
“I have one favor to ask,” he said. “My devoted servant, a man named Chumru—”
She smiled with the air of a woman who breathes freely once more after passing through some grave peril.
“How, then, do you think I found out the identity of the English officer who had dared to enter Delhi?” she asked. “Your man came to me, not without difficulty, and told me you were here. It was he who inspired me with the thought that your presence might be turned to good account. But go, and quickly. He is safe.”