The old man smiled unpleasantly. "This Antni Sahib—he is one to be wondered at, is he not? Men say that when certain would have had the English take possession of Granthistan for themselves, he withstood them." A meaning pause. "And they say also that when any Englishman would override the rights of a Granthi, be he Sirdar or peasant, Antni Sahib is on the side of the Granthi."
"Quite true," said Gerrard again.
The Sirdar bent towards him. "Then, since he betrays his own masters thus, from whom does he look for reward?" he asked triumphantly.
"The Resident desires no reward but the gratitude of the Granthis, if that may be had, Sirdar Sahib."
"And the gratitude of the Granthis is to place him on the gaddi as
King of Granthistan?" The old man's self-satisfaction was so evident
as he displayed his acumen in detecting this deep-laid plot that
Gerrard almost laughed in his face.
"Nay, Sirdar Sahib, he trusts to see young Lena Singh on his father's throne, ruling as an upright king, when he himself has returned an old man to England. But excuse me a moment."
The Eurasian apothecary, the only man in the camp who could speak English, had entered deprecatingly, with a visage of alarm. Gerrard spoke sharply.
"Don't look so frightened, Mr Moraes. What is it?"
"Zere are soldiers approaching, sar—a whole armee. What is to be done?"
"Bid Sirdar Badan Hazari send the men to their posts, and challenge the strangers before they get within musket-shot." He turned again to the old man. "You think that Colonel Antony might wish to make himself King of Granthistan, but which of all the English has ever done such a thing?"