Ali Partab grinned again—this time insolently.
“To make sure that the Jaimihr-sahib did not make away with the treasure of his brother Howrah!” he answered.
“If you were released now what would you proceed to do?”
“To obey my orders.”
Jaimihr changed his tactics and assumed the frequently successful legal line of pretending to know far more than he really did.
“I am told by one who overheard you speak that you were to take the missionary and his daughter to Alwa's place. How much is my brother Howrah paying for Mahommed Gunga's services in this matter? It is well known that he and Alwa between them could call out all the Rangars in the district for whichever side they chose. Since they are not on my side, they must be for Howrah. How much does he pay? I might offer more.”
“I know not,” said Ali Partab, perfectly ready to admit anything that was not true.
“It is true, then, that Howrah has designs on the missionary's daughter? Alwa is to keep her prisoner until the great blow is struck, and Howrah dare take possession of her?”
“That is not my business,” answered Ali Partab, with the air of a man who knew all of the secret details but would not admit it. Jaimihr began to think that he had lit at random on the answer to the riddle.
“Where is Mahommed Gunga?”