"Beware, Jehándar Beg," growled Afzool Khan, who leant over the prostrate man without altering his position, as the Lalla loosed the ring, "I do not want to kill thee, good fellow; but, by Alla, if thou strivest ever so little, this knife will go through thee. I am no friend to traitors, as thou well knowest; so keep quiet."
It was a bold stroke; but in such emergencies desperate efforts are generally the most successful. Fazil took the Kótwal's signet-ring, and went to the door. The slave Jaffur looked at it for an instant, bowed his head, and crossed his arms; while Fazil, looking round the hall, beckoned to his friend, who, attended by some twenty of his followers, sat upon the dais.
Kowas Khan arose instantly, and with him the men, who made their salutations, and advanced towards the door. The slaves believed that the Wuzeer's son had been sent for, and stood aside to let him pass: and as the young men embraced in the doorway, Fazil whispered to his friend to disarm them, and hold the door. A pressure of the hand was the sure reply.
"I will return with my shawl," said Kowas Khan aloud, going back towards his seat, "and I will follow you directly."
A moment afterwards Fazil and the Khan heard a few low cries, a struggle, and a slight clash of arms. The surprise had been complete. The slaves were disarmed, thrust into the Wuzeer's private room, and the doors closed.
"Fear not, noble friends," cried the cheery voice of the Wuzeer's son, as he stood in the doorway, "ye are safe, and no one is hurt. I have five hundred men of my own body-guard in the courts, on foot and horseback; and, Inshalla! we can hold the Kótwallee against an army. May I come?"
"Ul-humd-ul-illa!" cried the Khan and his son together, "hazar shookr, hazar shookr!—(A thousand thanks!) O holy 'Geesoo Duraz!' I vow to thee a thousand lights, and a chain of gold for the canopy of thy blessed sepulchre," continued the Khan, devoutly.
"Come, friend and brother," said Fazil; "come here and see what treachery doth in the most trusted places—nay, fear us not, Jehándar Beg," he continued; "we are not arbiters in your destiny—it rests in higher hands than ours. Father, take away the knife from his heart."
"I don't know that I ought," said the old Khan, grimly. "I shall keep it ready, and near thee, Jehándar Beg. I trust thee not, my friend."
"You are more lucky than I am," returned the Kótwal, sadly. "When a man's fate deserts him, he need not struggle—he is helpless," and he quoted a verse from the Gulistan to that effect.