"Speak, Patan," Kassim commanded; "thou dwellest overlong upon some lie."
"There was a mission," Barlow answered; "it was from my own people, the people of Sind."
"Of Sindhia?"
"No; from the land of Sind, Afghanistan. We ride not with the
Mahrattas; they are infidels, while we be followers of the true
Prophet."
"Thou art a fair speaker, Afghan. And was there a sealed message?"
"There was, Commander Sahib."
"Where is it now?"
"I know not. It was left with Amir Khan."
There was a hush of three seconds. Then Kassim, whose eye had searched the room, saw the iron box. "This has a bearing upon matters," he declared; "this affair of a written message. Open the box and see if it is within," he commanded a Pindari.
"How now, woman," for the Gulab had stepped forward; "what dost thou here—ah! there was talk of a message from the Chief. It might be, it might be, because,"—his leonine face, full whiskered, the face of a wild rider, a warrior, softened as he looked at the slight figure,—"our noble Chief had spoken soft words of thee, and passed the order that thou wert Begum, that whatsoever thou desired was to be."