"And who art thou, Syn? We have met before to-day."
"Ay, Khan, and before that often. Am I safe with thee? Put thy hand on my head; nay, fear not a poor servant of God, and I will tell thee who I am."
"Surely, friend," replied Afzool Khan, putting out his hand upon the high felt cap, "fear not."
"Not there, not there; on my head," cried the man, grasping the Khan's hand, and kissing it while he removed the cap; "on my head, on my head. Ask Ali Adil Shah of me, and remember—Pahar Singh."
"Pahar Singh!" exclaimed the Khan, starting back.
"Hush, fear not; I have been pardoned, and the Shah's hand hath been before thine on his head; fear not, I will be true to thee, for thou art faithful to him. Thy hand once more, Khan, freely and truly upon my head."
"Go, friend," said Afzool Khan, placing it as he desired. "Go, I doubt thee not, for I have heard what happened last night; go in peace. Whatever thou canst do for the Shah will not be forgotten."
"There is yet one more work to-day ere I sleep, Khan—one more, and I go to do it. God be with you."
As he departed, the men on guard would have stopped him, but again the old cry arose, and in his assumed character no one molested him, as the shout, rising and falling on the air, died away in the far distance.