"Tum samauhe ho?"
Mechanically Chunda La replied:
"Ah, Sahib, tumhara huken jaldi: kiya' jaega'" (Yes, I hear and obey.)
As Fo-Hi raised his clenched right hand, so did Chunda Lal raise the kukri. Fo-Hi extended his left hand rigidly towards the Hindu and seemed to force him, step by step, back towards the open trap. Almost at the brink, Chunda Lal paused, swayed, and began to utter short, agonised cries. Froth appeared upon his lips.
Raising his right hand yet further aloft, Fo-Hi swiftly brought it down, performing the gesture of stabbing himself to the heart. His ghastly reserve deserted him.
"Jey Bhowana!" he screamed—"Yah Allah!"
Chunda Lal, uttering a loud groan, stabbed himself and fell backward into the opening. Ensued a monstrous crash of broken glass.
As he fell, Fo-Hi leapt to the brink of the trap, glaring down madly into the cellar below. His yellow fingers opened and closed spasmodically.
"Lie there," he shrieked—"my 'faithful' servant! The ants shall pick your bones!"
He grasped the upstanding door of the trap and closed it. It descended with a reverberating boom. Fo-Hi raised his clenched fists and stepped to the door. Finding it locked, he stood looking toward the open screen before the window.