Kassim bellowed an order subduing the tumult; then he asked: "What art thou, a Patan, or as the woman says, an Englay?"
"I am a Sahib," Barlow answered; "a Captain in the British service, and came to your Chief with a written message of friendship."
Kassim pointed to the blood on the floor: "Thou wert a good messenger, infidel; thou hast slain a follower of the Prophet."
But Bootea raised a slim hand, and, her voice trembling with intensity, cried: "Commander, Amir Khan was not slain with the dagger, he was killed by the towel. Look you at his throat and you will see the mark."
"Bismillah!" came in a cry of astonishment from the Commander's throat, and the marble walls of the Surya-Mahal (room of audience) echoed gasps and curses. Kassim himself had knelt by the dead Chief, and now rising, said: "By Allah! it is true. That dog—" his finger was thrusting like a dagger at Barlow.
But Bootea's clear voice hushed the rising clamour: "No, Commander, the sahibs know not the thug trick of the roomal, and few thugs could have overcome the Chief."
"Who then killed him—speak quick, and with the truth," Kassim commanded.
He was interrupted by one of Hunsa's guards, crying: "Here, where go you—you had not leave!" And Hunsa, who had turned to slip away, was jerked back to where he had stood.
"It is that one," Bootea declared, sweeping a hand toward Hunsa. "About his waist is even now the yellow-and-white roomal that is the weapon of Bhowanee. With that he killed Amir Khan. Take it from him, and see if there be not black hairs from the beard of the Chief in its soft mesh."
"By the grace of Allah it is a truth!" the Commander ejaculated when the cloth passed to him had been examined. "It is a revelation such as came to Mahomet, and out of the mouth of a woman. Great is Allah!"