"Peace!" interrupted the Meerza. "What, in the name of the Shytan, are the well and the temple to us? Let us get up and depart, Sahib," he said to his companion, "they have no papers; this is but a scheme to raise money. I like them not, my lord," he added in a whisper, "and bitterly do I regret having brought you here unarmed and unattended. May God and the Prophet take us safe hence!"
The Lalla was not watching their faces in vain; he felt that he had gone far enough; and a fresh scowl from Pahar Singh, which was not to be mistaken: and his action, as he turned up a corner of the deerskin on which he sat, exhibiting a small red satin bag which might contain papers, assured the Lalla that he need not delay longer.
"Nay, my lords, be not impatient," he said blandly. "When was—he, he!—business of importance ever well done in a hurry? Behold!" added the Lalla, taking up the bag, "here are the papers which the holy father has kept safely for me beneath his deer's hide. Have I your permission to open them, Baba?"
"Open, and be quick," was the short answer of the Jogi.
"Simply then, noble sirs," continued the obsequious Lalla, taking some Persian letters out of the bag, "here they are; and if either of ye know the handwriting, the signature, or the seals of Khan Mahomed, Wuzeer of Beejapoor, he will, Inshalla! be able to recognize them. I do not know them myself, but that makes no difference; they are no forgeries. If you, my lord," he added to the Meerza, "know them, you will find that your poor servant has spoken the truth. Look at them carefully."
The Meerza received the packet with trembling hands, but he said firmly, "Thou knowest the penalty thou hast incurred if these be forged; and if a slave like thee shouldst have dared to question falsely the honour of one so exalted as the Wuzeer, beware!"
"I know—I know, O most exalted and worthy sir!" replied the Lalla, humbly but confidently shutting his eyes, folding his hands upon his breast, and bowing his head over them; "your worship told me before it would be death. But it will not be so. O no! In your poor slave's destiny is written favour and advancement at your hands, and his planets are in a fortunate conjunction."
"I would hang him to the highest tree in Beejapoor, to the topmost branch of the Goruk Imlee, to feed the crows and kites for a week. What a rascal he is, Meah!" whispered Bulwunt.
"Hush, and be ready! there is a life on every word," returned Fazil, hearing the King speak in Persian in an under-tone to the Meerza.