"Who?" asked the Duffadar sharply.
"Tannajee Maloosray, the friend of Sivaji Bhóslay," returned Bulwunt. "People know of him, perhaps!"
"Tannajee Maloosray? Thou art dreaming, friend," said the Duffadar, with an incredulous smile. "Tannajee dared no more enter Beejapoor than—than——"
"Than you, good sir, dare go to him, I suppose," said Fazil, ending the sentence. "Nevertheless, he was here, and but for a mischance would have been lying dead there."
"Tannajee here!" mused the Duffadar; "this must, then, be some deep plot, and the city is full of plots. Sir," he said to the young Khan, "the mention of that name, and all the events we have seen, cause many suspicions in my mind which I am not competent to dispose of; therefore, whoever thou art, release is impossible till the morning, when I must give an account of all matters to the Kótwal, who has cautioned the guards to be watchful against Mahratta parties and Moghul emissaries."
"Willingly," replied Fazil. "I could not leave him now, nor till his wound is dressed. As for myself, I am Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan, though I may not tell why I am disguised as an infidel, and why found in this place; suffice it to say it was in the King's service."
"Now may I receive my lord's pardon," cried the old man, presenting humbly the hilt of his sword as an offering. "Why did he not tell me sooner, and this offence and presumption would have been spared? Who among us does not know the valiant Afzool Khan, and have not all heard of his son Fazil Khan, the pillar of the state?" he added to the men, who fell back, saluting the young man with mingled curiosity and respect.
"Give me some water," said Fazil. "This dress and appearance are against me, Duffadar," he continued, laughing; "and if I had told who I was when ye seized me first, my arms might even have been bound a screw tighter perhaps. It does not signify now, for you only did your duty, as I can bear witness. Ah, the water is come—pour it over my hands, good fellow, and after the paint has disappeared, some of ye may know me."
"I know you, my lord," said a youth who pressed forward, as Fazil turned again to the light from the door where he had been washing his face. "Yes, father," he continued to the Duffadar, "this is truly the brave young Khan—no doubt of that;" and he stepped forward and touched Fazil's feet.