"Meer Jemal-oo-deen, if thou art he," said Fazil, "will have forgotten one whom he knew long ago."
"I have forgotten your face," returned the man, "yet you are welcome, and the peace of the Prophet be upon you. Who are you?"
"Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan," was the reply.
"O, great joy! O, thanks be to Alla!" cried the man, lifting up his hands, "and blessed be the saints and the Prophet who have sent thee. Embrace me, and come in quickly, for thy mother and sister have also been brought to us, and are safe within."
"Then she will live! they will save her!" cried the young man excitedly. "They will save her! O Meer Sahib, where are they?"
"Within, in the zenana," replied the merchant. "Sorely exhausted, I hear, but already better; and she?" and he pointed to the litter.
"No matter, sir," said Fazil, advancing; "all will be told you hereafter. She is much to them; but she is grievously shaken, and we lose time. She cannot speak, and is burning with fever."
"Ah, is it so? Then let her be carried in," and he clapped his hands. "Take that litter within at once," he said to the women who came; "then see to the lady who is in it."
Four stout women took up the litter, carried it into the inner court, and set it down.