“O my sister!” gasped Maadat Ali.
“Nay, I have said it, and these unbelievers shall be convinced.” She sprang up and stood before the visitors, drawing herself to her full height. “My father was the Amir Nasr Ali Khan, not the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and my brother Ashraf Ali should now be sitting in his father’s place. But the English took the side of the murderer and usurper, and we are banished to this desert.”
“You three are Nasr Ali’s children!” cried Lady Haigh. Then, regret succeeding astonishment, “Why in the world didn’t your father—the Sheikh, I mean—let Major Keeling know this before? He would have had you back at Nalapur long ago.”
“These are words!” said Wazira Begum. “My uncle judges the English by their deeds. His own wife and sons and our mother were among the dead in the Killa at Nalapur, and he would not have us murdered also.”
“But, dear me! he ought to know Major Keeling by this time,” said Lady Haigh impatiently. “He had no share in the massacre, and has been most anxious to right the injustice ever since it happened. But he thought there was no heir of Nasr Ali left, so he could do nothing.” She stopped, for a curious smile was playing about Wazira Begum’s mouth.
“My uncle has found a way of doing something,” she said. “Even now he has taken my brother Ashraf Ali, who was fourteen years old six weeks ago, to show him to the faithful followers of our father’s house, that they may raise an insurrection in his favour in Nalapur.”
“Then your uncle has acted very unwisely—to say no more—in not confiding in Major Keeling,” was the warm response. “I suppose he means to reach the capital while the Amir Wilayat Ali is with his army on the frontier? And so he has weakened his garrison, and withdrawn his distant patrols, and allowed Gobind Chand’s army to get past him and threaten Alibad. There must be spies all round you, for it’s clear his movements have been watched—I suppose the men we saw in the mountains were there to keep an eye on him—and he will never be allowed to reach Nalapur. And if he was, it wouldn’t be much good to proclaim your brother Amir if the enemy cut him off both from this place and from Alibad.”
“I cannot tell,” said Wazira Begum sullenly. “My uncle is a wise man, and will do according to his wisdom. As to Kīlin Sahib and the English, I will trust them when I see a reason for it,” and she marched away with great dignity.
Maadat Ali remained, obviously ill at ease on account of his sister’s revelation, but relieved that his true dignity need no longer be concealed; and from him Lady Haigh learned that the wife of the Amir Nasr Ali, suspecting treachery on the part of her brother-in-law, had intrusted her three children to the two nurses, Zulika and Hafiza, the night before the storming of the city. In the disguise of peasants the women had contrived to escape from the palace, and on the arrival of the English had been suffered to depart. They made their way to the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, who had succeeded in crossing the frontier into safety, and he had conceived the idea of bringing up the children as his own, knowing that, much as he himself was hated by Wilayat Ali and his Vizier, nothing could protect the heirs of Nasr Ali if they were known to be living.
The day passed slowly to Lady Haigh and Penelope. Maadat Ali was their constant companion, but his never-ceasing flow of questions became rather wearisome after a time. Wazira Begum seemed unable to make up her mind how to treat the visitors. She would come and engage in friendly conversation, then suddenly turn sullen or flare up at some imagined slight, and depart in dudgeon. Lady Haigh decided that she was ill at ease about her uncle and her elder brother, whose plans had been so signally deranged by Gobind Chand’s move, and that she would like to discuss future possibilities, but was too proud to do so. Murtiza Khan came back from his reconnaissance, and announced that the Nalapuri army had emerged from the hills in the early morning and threatened Alibad, but had been driven back in confusion by a small force with two field-pieces posted on the canal embankment. In spite of their numbers, Gobind Chand’s men refused to remain in the plain, and had retreated into the hills. They were now occupying the broken country extending from the frontier to the track on the south by which they had made their circuitous march, and were in force between Sheikhgarh and Alibad; but the trooper thought it might be possible for him to get through to the town, and relieve Sir Dugald’s mind, by using by-paths only known to the men of the Mountains. Lady Haigh was very much averse from the idea, but Murtiza Khan was so anxious to be allowed to try that she consented to his making the attempt after dark, guided by one of the brotherhood.