The evening was spent in Partab Singh's camp, where all his officers and officials came by command to pay their respects to Gerrard and congratulate him upon his exploit. It seemed absurd, as he rode back to his own camp at night, to realise by what a chain of accidents he had been led to his present position of favour, and he reflected sagely that accidents might as easily dethrone him, so that it would be well to report the state of affairs at once, in case Colonel Antony should wish to take immediate advantage of it. He had got rid of his full-dress uniform and the garlands with which he had been decorated, and was writing busily by the light of a smoky lantern, when the Granthi commander of his escort came to say that they had caught a man trying to make his way unperceived into the camp, who said that he was a Sirdar who had urgent business with the Sahib.
"Tell him to come in the morning," said Gerrard.
"He comes from one of the states newly included in the Company's territory, sahib, and has a petition to present. Moreover he dares not come by day, for fear of the Rajah here."
"A British subject? I suppose I must see him, though why he should be skulking in Agpur territory—— Bring him in, Badan Hazari."
A tall man much muffled in a large cloak was ushered in, and at Gerrard's invitation, sat down on the floor. When Badan Hazari was gone, he lowered the cloak a little, and looked at Gerrard as though he expected recognition, but there was none.
"I place my life in your hands, sahib. I am Sher Singh."
"There are many of that name," said Gerrard, puzzled.
"Not many who are also princes of Agpur."
"You are a relation of the Rajah's, then?"
"Merely his eldest son, sahib." The man glanced round fearfully as he spoke, as though listeners were to be dreaded.