"Bob!" he exclaimed, in utter surprise, as Charteris slipped from his exhausted horse. "What is it?"
"Bad news. No use going on."
"What! They are not dead?"
"Murdered—both of 'em. Tomb was shelled, but they held out. Then Sher Singh sent messengers to the escort—promised 'em double pay to join him—pair of gold bracelets to Nihal Singh. They accepted and went over—left Nisbet and Cowper all alone, except for a few faithful servants. Cowper was too badly wounded to get up, he was lying on his cot, and Nisbet sat beside him holding his hand. There was no hope of further resistance, and they told the servants to escape if they could. One of 'em hid, and brought the news to me just now. Sher Singh's men burst in, with old Sarfaraz Khan at their head, shouting all the wickedness he could lay his filthy old tongue to. Nisbet told him he might kill them, as they were only two to thousands, but that he might be sure thousands of English would come and destroy Sher Singh and his city."
"And they killed them?"
"Hacked 'em to pieces, and took their heads to Sher Singh."
Charteris's face twitched, and he turned away angrily.
"There's no possibility that the servant's tale is false, I suppose?"
"I wish to Heaven there were. But why should Sher Singh make things out worse when they were bad enough already? Besides, I questioned the fellow pretty sharply, and he was not to be shaken. So I started at once to catch you up."
"Thanks," said Gerrard absently. "That poor little woman, Bob! How will she ever stand it?"
"Doesn't bear thinking of," said Charteris brusquely. "Question is, what are we going to do?"