“Impossible,” answered Gulbadan; “the door in the garden wall is locked, is it not?”—Salhana had forgotten that in his haste he had left it open.—” And from the other side there is no danger, for Faizi started this morning to join the army. Go by this path, it will be more prudent, as you might meet Siddha in the neighbourhood of the garden wall.”
“All, then, is settled, is it not?” said Salhana. “You undertake Salim and those here in Agra, and I charge myself with Akbar; and if I am fortunate, we and his people will shortly be freed from his rule.”
With a slight greeting Salhana then disappeared behind a curtain, taking a side path unknown to Siddha, so that to follow him, according to his first impulse, was impossible.
The best course now was to return at once, and ensure the failure of the plot by warning the Emperor before the conspirators suspected anything. But his longing to show Gulbadan that he had ceased to be her despised tool was too great to be resisted, and with one bound he was in the verandah and standing before her.
“Cursed snake!” he cried, “you caused me to become a traitor; but do not flatter yourself that your accursed plot and that of yonder ruffian will succeed. I, who begin to weary you, will hinder it.”
“Ha! you have been listening, then,” said Gulbadan, an expression of hate and malice crossing her hitherto gentle face, depriving it of all its beauty; “and now you intend to betray us,—but that shall never be.” Before Siddha could guess her intention, she flew towards him, aiming a blow at his heart with a dagger. He half-mechanically sought to ward off the blow, but his arm fell helpless to his side at the sight of a figure that appeared to rise from the ground behind Gulbadan, and who seized the murderess’ hand in an iron grasp.
Gulbadan turned round hastily, and sank with a cry of horror to the earth. Behind her stood Faizi, and behind him two servants with drawn swords.
“Mercy!” she implored, returning to her senses, while Siddha stood motionless, gazing at the scene before him.
“Mercy, my lord and master!” And with her head bowed down so that her dark locks swept the ground, she crept on her knees towards Faizi, who stepped back as she strove to approach him more closely.
“Back!” he cried; “do not touch me. Bind that woman,” he said, turning to his followers, “and take her to my castle of Mathura. There let her be closely watched; and should she ever make an attempt, however slight, to enter into communication with the outer world, then carry out the sentence from which to-day I spare her. Never again will I see her, nor a single hair of her guilty head.” Then he turned and spoke to the fallen one who knelt at his feet; but his words were not such as to lighten her punishment. “Hope gives life,” he said; “and you, whose name will never more pass my lips, perhaps flatter yourself with a vain expectation. You think you can reckon on the protection of one more powerful than I, or who will one day be so. You think that Salim will stand by you, and release you from your imprisonment. This is a vain hope. He whom you have also deceived imparted to me your connection with yonder man; and this was Salim himself, whom you imagined safe in your toils.”