tterly desolate. Schooling
himself to patience, he tried to kill time by repeating aloud all the
words of English he could remember, attempting to copy the accent of
Hodson Sahib. He was surprised to find how many words came to his tongue
with the effort. But speech was difficult to a dry throat. He lay down
and slept again: maybe presently Minghal would relent so far as to bring
him food.

Thus between sleeping and waking he passed the long hours--he knew not
how many; and was vividly conscious of his discomforts, when at last he
heard the light shuffling of feet in the corridor outside the room. Then
a light shone through the thin crack at the bottom of the door; the key
turned in the lock, and three figures entered. The first was Minghal
Khan; then came the darwan with a lamp; the other was a stranger. And
even Minghal wore a different look. His eyes were haggard; a huge
bandage swathed his head; one arm was in a sling.

"Thou art yet alive, thou son of a dog," said Minghal. "It is well."

He bade the darwan hold the light nearer to Ahmed.

"Now hearken to me, and do my bidding," said Minghal again. "I have here
a munshi, who will write the words thou sayest. Thou wilt send a message
to Rahmut Khan, the rogue that calls himself thy father, and say to him
that thou art in the hands of enemies. The bearer of thy letter is a man
to be trusted, and if thy father will accompany him, he will bring him
to the place where thou art, so that a plan of escape may be devised."

"And how shall my father know that this is a true letter from me, seeing
that it will be written by a hand he knows not?" said Ahmed. It was
well, he thought, that Minghal should still believe him to have come to
the city with his father.

"Thou canst at least write thy name, or make some mark that he will
know."

"I can do so much, it is true. And what if I do this thing?"

"I will set thee free before another sunrise."

"And dost thou think I do not see through thy wile, nor know the
naughtiness of thy heart? Let thy munshi write; I will set no hand to
it."

"Dog, dost thou deny me? Knowest thou not that I can slay thee where
thou standest, or keep thee without bread to eat and water to drink
until thou diest?"

"I know; but I have said."

"Thou fool! I will bring thee to a better mind; aye, or so serve thee
that thy mind will utterly go from thee. Shall a whelp defy me? Go,
darwan, bring bread and water."

The darwan set his lamp on th