organizer of Hodson's spies. It
was to him that Ahmed was to make his reports, and by him that the means
of conveying his information to the British lines would be arranged. He
was admitted to the presence of the maulavi, a man of dignified aspect,
with eyes of particular brilliance. Fazl Hak was convinced from the
first that the cause of the mutineers was hopeless, and advised the king
many times during the siege to make his peace with the sahibs before it
was too late.

"I am Ahmed Khan," said the visitor, after salutations had been
exchanged, "and I bring greeting from the Maulavi Rajab Ali."

"Yes. You came in yesterday by the Ajmir gate."

"True," said Ahmed, somewhat surprised.

"And you took up your abode in the serai of Gopal Ali by the Moti
Bazar."

"It is so," said Ahmed, wondering more and more.

"And you have sold goods to officers of the regiments of the Prince
Mirza Mogul and Minghal Khan."

"All this is true," said Ahmed, feeling strangely uncomfortable; "and
yet I know not how it reached your ears."

"That is no matter. It is my business to know things. And now, what can
I do for you?"

"I would send a message to Hodson Sahib."

"Well, I have been asked to assist an Afghan trader named Ahmed Khan.
That was Rajab Ali's word. I will do all I can. Say on. What is the
message?"

"I must say it to a munshi, who will write with a pen what I speak with
my lips."

"I will write. Speak."

Then Ahmed began, in the grave and earnest manner of one engaged in an
important transaction, to describe what he had seen, and relate what he
had heard. For some little while Fazl Hak wrote with the finest of pens,
in diminutive characters, on paper so thin that Ahmed marvelled it was
not pierced. The maulavi's grave face expressed nothing of what he
thought; perhaps one who knew him better might have detected a slight
twinkle beneath his veiling eyelids, and the play of his lips behind
their curtain of beard. All at once he stopped writing, and looking up
at Ahmed, said--

"Does a man cook eggs that are already eaten? This that you say, Ahmed
Khan, is a twice-told tale. The oldest of your news went to the English
three days ago; the newest, a little ere the gates were shut."

Ahmed flushed, and looked exceedingly abashed. He was chagrined at his
failure, and annoyed that Fazl Hak had let him go on even so long
dictating his stale news. Something in the maulavi's manner suggested
that he was not wholly ple