So on the fifth day they were at Balapoor; and leaving the lady to the care of the servants to rest for awhile, the Khan, accompanied by Kasim, rode forward to the town and fort of Nundidgroog, where he knew some of his own men were stationed.
‘Do you see that pile of rocks yonder?’ said the Khan to Kasim, as they rode along.
‘I do; why do you ask?’
‘Because,’ he replied, ‘that is a place well worth seeing, and one which was a rare favourite of Hyder Ali’s—may his memory be honoured!’
‘Why? Had he a summer-house there?’
‘Yes, there is a sort of a house there, to be sure,’ returned the Khan laughing; ‘but not one of pleasure, I should think. Many a poor wretch has been in it, who would have given the wealth of the world, had he possessed it, to have got out again.’
‘It is a prison then?’
‘It is, and one from which but few return alive.’
‘How so? You do not mean to say that they are murdered?’
‘I mean to tell you plainly, that you had better not get into it; few of our people have ever been sent there, for it is reserved for the kafir English—may their tribe be accursed!—and a few of them are now and then thrown from the top, to terrify the rest into submission to the Sultaun’s will, and to become a feast for the kites and crows. Look! I suppose some of them have been cast over lately, for there are vultures wheeling in the air overhead, and making stoops as if they would alight.’