"Do your worst," answered the old man, in a desperate tone. "Ye will not kill me; and if my sufferings will in any way gratify you, even let it be so; for Narayun has given me into your power, and it is his will and not yours which does this. You will not hear me cry out, though my arms were burnt off to the sockets. I spit at you!"
"Light the rags!" roared Ghuffoor Khan; "this is not to be endured."
They were lit—one by one they blazed up, while his hands were forcibly held down to his sides to accelerate the effect of the fire. Alla, Alla! it was a sickening sight. The warm flesh of the fingers hissed under the blaze of the oiled rags, which were fed from time to time with fresh oil, as men pour it upon a torch. The old man had overrated his strength. What nerves could bear such exquisite torture? His shrieks were piteous, and would have melted a heart of stone; but Ghuffoor Khan heeded them not: he stood glutting his savage soul with the sufferings of the wretched creature before him, and asking him from time to time, with the grin of a devil, whether he would disclose his treasures. But the person he addressed was speechless, and after nature was fairly exhausted, he sank down in utter insensibility.
"You have killed him," I exclaimed. "For the love of Alla, let him alone, and let us depart; what more would you have? Either he has no money, or he will not give it up."
"Where be those daughters of a defiled mother?" cried he to his followers, not heeding what I said to him. "Where are they? Bring them forward, that I may ask them about the money, for money there must be."
But they, too, were dead! ay, they had been murdered also; by whom I know not, but their bodies were found in the next room weltering in their blood. The news was brought to the Khan, and he was more savage than ever; he gnashed his teeth like a wild beast—he was fearful to look on.
The old man had revived, for water had been poured on his face and on his fingers: he raised himself up, looked wildly about him, and then gazed piteously on his mutilated hands. Were they men or devils by whom he was surrounded? By Alla! Sahib, they were not men, for they laughed at him and his almost unconscious actions.
"Speak!" cried the Khan, striking him with his sword, "speak, kafir! or more tortures are in store for thee." But he spoke not—he was more than half-dead: misery and torture had done their utmost.
The Khan drew his sword. Again he cried "Speak!" as he raised the weapon above his head. I fancied I saw the old man's lips smile, and move as though he would have spoken; he cast his eyes upwards, but no word escaped him. The sword was quivering above his head in the nervous grasp of the Khan; and seeing he got no answer, it descended with its full force on the old man's forehead, almost dividing the head in two. Need I say he was instantly dead! I was satisfied; Ghuffoor Khan's cup too was full; for my own determination was made on that spot,—I swore it to myself as I looked at the dead, and rushed from the house.