“I have heard nothing,” answered Major Keeling in surprise. “What news should there be?”
“It is well. Yet there must be news soon. The Amir and Gobind Chand are, as it were, crossing a gulf by a rope-bridge—one false step means destruction. But they will not return to firm ground.”
“But you sent me word that the Sardars refused to stand their exactions and oppression any longer, and that they had been obliged to promise to meet them, and inquire into their grievances.”
“True, and the assembly is to meet this week; but what will follow? Are Wilayat Ali and the Vizier men who will render back the gains they have extorted? Not so; they will divert the minds of the Sardars by making war upon one of their neighbours. And which neighbour will that be?”
“All right. Let them come!” laughed Major Keeling. “If they are fools enough to hurl themselves on our guns they must. I have done all I could to keep the peace. When is it to be—at the end of the week?”
“Nay, not so soon. They will but inflame the minds of the Sardars, and send them home to prepare for war. It cannot begin yet.”
“Then what were you afraid of? You seemed to expect danger of some sort.”
“I feared one of those false steps of which I spoke. The Amir and Gobind Chand might have acted foolishly in trying to seize or murder some of the Sardars, or the Sardars might have sought to avenge their wrongs by killing them. Then the country would have fallen into such confusion that I must needs act, and the time is not come.”
“Then you have an axe of your own to grind!” cried Major Keeling. “It can’t be allowed, Sheikh. You must not plot against a neighbouring power while you are on British territory.”
The Sheikh looked at him with something like contempt. “Why does Kīlin Sahib thus allow his wrath to bubble up? To what purpose should I plot against the Nalapur usurper? For myself I need no more than I have here.”