r advantage, than outside to our disadvantage. So she was brought
in and set to sweeping."

"By the curse of the sin of the sack of Chitor, is my palace, then,
a midden for the crawling offal of all the Howrah streets? First this
Rangar--next a sweeper hag--what follows? What bring you next? Go, fetch
the street dogs in!"

"Highness, she is useful and costs nothing but the measure or two of
meal she eats."

"A horse eats little more!" the angry Prince retorted, perfectly
accustomed to being argued with by his own servants. That is the
time-honored custom of the East; obedience is one thing--argument
another--both in their way are good, and both have their innings. "Bring
her to me--nay!--keep her at a decent distance--so!--am I dirt for her
broom?"

He sat and scowled at her, and the old woman tried to hide more of her
protruding bones under the rag of clothing that she wore; she stood,
wriggling in evident embarrassment, well out in the sun.

"What willst thou steal of mine?" the Prince demanded suddenly.

"I am no thief." Bright, beady eyes gleamed back at him, and gave the
lie direct to her shrinking attitude of fear. But he had taken too much
opium overnight, and was in no mood to notice little distinctions.
He was satisfied that she should seem properly afraid of him, and he
scowled angrily when one of his retainers--in slovenly undress--crossed
the courtyard to him. The man's evident intention, made obvious by his
manner and his leer at the old woman, was to say something against her;
the Prince was in a mood to quarrel with any one, on any ground at all,
who did not cower to him.

"Prince, she it is who ran ever with the white woman, as a dog runs in
the dust."

"What does she here, then?"

"Ask her!" grinned the trooper. "Unless she comes to look for Ali
Partab, I know not."

He made the last part of his remark in a hurried undertone, too low for
the old woman to hear.

"Let her earn her meal around the stables," said the Prince. A sudden
light dawned on him. Here was a means, at least, of trying to make use
of Ali Partab. "Go--do thy sweeping!" he commanded, and the hag slunk
off.

For ten minutes longer, Jaimihr sat still and flicked at the stone
column with his whip,--then he sent for his master of the horse, whose
mistaken sense of loyalty had been the direct cause of Ali Partab's
capture. He had acted instantly when the fat Hindoo brought him word,
and he had expected to be praised for quic