His rough moustaches, of a sandy-brown colour at the ends, mingled with a straggling scanty beard, were usually parted in the middle, and turned over his ears; but now, being loosened, they were tied together in a knot under his chin, in the most approved Jogi fashion. His broad chest was covered with grizzled hair of the same peculiar colour as his beard; and his chin, originally fair, had become of a deep brown, except where it retained some of its original colour. His arms, which had appeared so muscular when he suddenly started up to threaten the king, seemed even longer and more powerful, as he sat stretching out one over the blaze, while the fingers of the other hand played among the gold pieces before him. Pahar Singh's countenance was now very repellant. It seemed to Fazil that mercy could never issue from those pitiless lips which, with the full nostrils distending and contracting rapidly under the action of feelings not yet expressed, produced an effect which fascinated, while it shocked one unused to it.
"Lallajee," he said, every now and then looking up: "O friend, dost thou love gold? See, this is red and pure—ah, yes, lovely—and so it need be, coming out of the King's mint direct. More than ten thousand rupees, too, they said. Well, there are just five hundred and fifty ashruffees. That is—how much, Maun Singh? thou art a better accountant than I am."
"Somewhere about eleven thousand rupees, I believe, Maharaj," said his follower.
"Well, that will do, Lallajee," continued Pahar Singh. "That is my share for taking care of thee, thou knowest, and getting thee a good market for thy papers. The gods be praised! I vow ten of these to the Holy Mother's necklace at Tooljapoor," and he took up ten pieces of the number that remained.
"Nay, valiant sir," interposed the Lalla: "that is your Excellency's share in the bag yonder. These are mine, not half, as we agreed, but enough perhaps for the poor Lalla. It would be no merit for my lord if he were to give to the goddess——"
He could not finish the sentence, whatever it might have been intended to mean, for the rude interruption—"Ill-begotten!" cried the robber, snatching a brand from the fire and striking the Lalla's hand, which had advanced towards the heap,—"dare to touch the gold, and thou diest! That for the like of thee!"
"I am your slave," whimpered the man, wringing his hand; "but why did my lord strike so hard?"
"Listen to the coward, brother," said Pahar Singh with a sneer; "a woman would not whine like that. Now, thy share, Maun Singh."
"Of course," said that worthy, "after being dallal in the matter, and putting my head into jeopardy, running after that mad Secretary into the very palace—where, had any one chanced to recognize me, I should have been cut down or speared like a mad dog—truly, considering the risk, and that day and night's ride to boot, mine comes next. Ah! thou art a just man, O Jemadar."
"Well, then, hold out thine hand, brother," returned Pahar Singh, taking up a few coins and dropping them into his hand. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good gold, good gold, Lallajee!" he said, looking up: "but it is of no use giving it to him: he will only spend it on women and liquor. Better I should have the rest, who can take care of it, Lalla, and give it him as he needs it—dost thou not think so? Yet, stay, I may as well—nine, ten, that's two hundred rupees, brother—enough for thee. Who would have thought of a bundle of old papers bringing so many bright ashruffees. And after all, O Lalla—by your head—were they true or false, O mean thief?"