had much knowledge of the man, and it seemed incredible to Ahmed,
with his experience of the loyalty of his comrades in the Guides to
their salt, that a man who had served the sahib faithfully for years
should be so utterly perverted as the chaprasi had reported. Had he not
heard stories in camp of the heroic devotion shown by native servants in
rescuing and giving asylum to the families whose salt they had eaten?
Had he not, indeed, seen with his own eyes in the camp on the Ridge
Metcalfe Sahib, who had been saved, not even by a servant, but by a
police officer, one Mainudin Hassan Khan, who at the risk of his life
had conveyed the sahib to Jajjar? If a police officer would do this,
might not a khansaman or some other servant, bound to his master by
personal ties far closer, have done as much for Craddock Sahib?

From his experiences on the previous day, he guessed that in all
probability Minghal Khan would leave his house early to attend the usual
morning darbar at the palace. His absence would furnish a good
opportunity of calling without risk. Accordingly, he summoned his
coolie, and, while the man was preparing a bale of goods, he inquired of
the innkeeper the way to the great man's house. It was not far off,
being on the opposite side of the Chandni Chauk towards the Delhi Bank.
He set off with his goods, found the house without difficulty, and rang
the bell.

"Salaam, darwan," he said to the servant who opened the door. "You
behold a trader from Afghanistan, who comes with some beautiful fabrics
of exquisite workmanship to lay before the great subahdar, Minghal
Khan."

"Away, banijara!" replied the man. "The great one is not at home; he is
gone to the king's palace. And even were he within, dost think he would
deign to look at the filthy rags a man like thee would bring? Away, and
take thy shadow from his door."

Ahmed, who knew very well what this meant, slipped a few annas into the
darwan's hand.

"I know I am unworthy that the light of the great man's countenance
should fall upon my goods," he said. "Yet in his merciful kindness he
may deign to purchase some small thing, and then, O darwan, there will
assuredly be dasturi for hands that so well deserve it."

The preliminary "tip," and the promise of a commission on the goods
sold, had the expected effect.

"The great one is from home," said the man. "If you will come again, I
will do my poor best to persuade him to look upon you."

"It is a favour. H