Spies brought in news to Maharajah, Prince, and priest of the hurried raising of a Rangar army. The Maharajah and the Prince laughed up their sleeves and the priests swore horribly; the interjection of another element—another creed—into the complication did not suit the priestly “book.” They were the only men who were really worried about Alwa.
And another spy—Joanna—disappeared. No longer garbed as a man, she had hung about the palace, and—known to nearly all the sweepers—she had overheard things. Garbed as a man again, she suddenly evaporated in thin air, and Rosemary McClean was left without a servant or any means of communication with the outside world.
CHAPTER XXXII
The ringed wolf glared the circle round
Through baleful, blue-lit eye,
Not unforgetful of his debt.
“Now, heed ye how ye draw the net.”
Quoth he: “I'll do some damage yet
Or ere my turn to die!”
THE mare that had been a present from Mahommed Gunga was brought out and saddled, together with a fresh horse for the Risaldar. The veteran had needed no summoning, for with a soldier's instinct he had wakened at the moment his self-allotted four hours had expired. He mounted a little stiffly, and tried his horse's paces up and down the courtyard once or twice before nodding to Cunningham.
“All ready, sahib.”
“Ready, Mahommed Gunga.”
But there was one other matter, after all, that needed attention first.
“That horse of mine that brought me hither”—the Risaldar picked out the man who waited with the gong cord in his hand—“is left in thy particular charge. Dost thou hear me? I will tell the Alwa-sahib what I now tell thee—that horse will be required of thee fit, good-tempered, light-mouthed, not spur-marked, and thoroughly well groomed. There will be a reward in the one case, but in the other—I would not stand in thy shoes! It is a trust!”