"Return directly," said the King, in a whisper, to his secretary, as the holy man waddled slowly to the door. "I know who it is; bring him hither at once. Hast thou forgotten the Jogi of the temple?"
"Hither? that fearful man!"
"Yes, and at once—any excuse—say he does exorcism—anything."
The secretary hesitated.
"At once," continued the King, positively, "and without fail. I feared him not then, when I was in his power and helpless, neither do I now. Go, take this with thee," and he slipped his signet ring into the Meerza's hand.
"I will have him searched at any rate," thought the Meerza, as he descended the narrow stair. "Take care, Meer Sahib, the light is uncertain. Ah, here we are. Who is that, Abdulla, that was crying out?" he said to a eunuch, who, with others, kept guard at the foot of the stairs.
"I know not, my lord. He is some drunken Fakeer, no doubt; and they have tied him up, I hear."
"He may be wanted above," whispered the Meerza. "Let him follow me, and without notice or hindrance. Some exorcism is needed—you understand—within——"
The man stared, and only bowed assent over his crossed arms. "Who dared question royal secrets?"
"Coming, Meer Sahib; I only looked for my shoes," cried the Meerza to his companion, who had advanced a few paces.