ced there, and hesitated for a second, his ghoulish eyes
gloating over the jewels and gold; but he did not touch them, his
animal cunning holding him to the simple plan that was now working so
smoothly. He locked the box and slipped the key-chain about the dead
man's waist; then seizing the right hand of his victim he smeared the
thumb in blood and imprinted it upon the paper just beside the seal of
the British Raj, muttering: "This will do for Nana Sahib as well as
your head, Pindari, and is much easier hidden."

He placed the paper in a roll of his turban, blew out the flickering
light, and with noiseless bare feet glided cautiously to the door. The
_purdah_ swung back and there was left just the silent room, all dark,
save for little trickles of silver that dropped spots and grotesque
lines upon the body of the dead Chief. It fell full upon the knife
flooding its blade into a finger-like mirror, and glinted the blood
drops as if in reality they had turned to rubies. Without the _purdah_
Hunsa did not crouch and run, he walked swiftly, though noiselessly, as
one upon a message. Ten paces of the dim-lighted hall he turned to the
right to a balcony.

Here at the top of a narrow winding stone stairway Hunsa listened; no
sound came from below, and he glided down. Beneath was a balcony
corresponding with the one above, and just beyond was a domed cell that
he had investigated. It was a cell that at one time had witnessed the
quick descent of headless bodies to the river below. A teakwood beam
with a round hole in the centre spanned the cell just above an opening
that had all the appearance of a well. Hunsa had investigated this
exit for this very purpose, for he had been somewhat of a privileged
character about the palace.

He now unslung from about his waist, hidden by his baggy trousers, a
strong, fine line of camel hair. Making one end fast to the teakwood
sill he went down hand over hand, his strong hard palms gripping the
soft line. At the end of it he still had a drop of ten or twelve feet,
but bracing his shoulders to one wall and his feet to the other he let
go. Hunsa was shaken by his drop of a dozen feet, but the soft sand of
the river bed had broken the shock of his fall. He picked himself up,
and crouching in the hiding shadow of the bank hurried along for fifty
yards; then he clambered up cautiously to the waste of white sand that
was studded with the tents of the Pindari horsemen. On his right