n that tidings of disaster were arriving hotfoot awoke him. The
sound of distant horses' feet was in his ears as he raised his head from
the pillow, but when he sat up and listened he could hear nothing. His
servant and the orderly sleeping close at hand protested in injured tones
when he called to them that he had been dreaming, and so did the sentries
supposed to be keeping watch on the outskirts of the camp, to whom he
sent an inquiry without much hope of success.

"If any messenger arrives from Agpur, wake me and bring him here at
once," he said as he lay down again. "Why, what a fool I am! The sound
was coming the opposite way, I am sure. It must have been a dream."

No messenger arrived, and the rest of the march to Adamkot was made the
next day. It was almost sunset when Gerrard drew rein and looked up at
the great fort of reddish brick towering above him. He was riding in the
bed of the river Tindar, here more than a mile wide, and now dry save for
one small channel. When the river was in flood, Adamkot must stand on
its very brink, but at present its sheer cliff rose from an expanse of
sand and mud. It occupied the point of a tongue of high land formed by
the river and a ravine, also dry, and a deep ditch guarded it at the only
side on which level ground approached the walls. He wondered whether it
would be necessary to make a toilsome march up the side ravine to reach
the entrance, but Badan Hazari, pointing to a gateway at the top of the
cliff, reached by a winding ascent from the foot, told him that this was
the usual means of approach when the river was low. When it was high, a
drawbridge was lowered over the ditch at the back. Gerrard sent off,
therefore, his selected embassy, bearing a friendly letter from himself
as well as that signed by the Rani, and inviting Sher Singh to receive
him, that he might deliver the gracious gifts of the Rajah.

The embassy wound up the long path, entered the gateway, and returned,
without Sher Singh, but with an elderly fakir, who was introduced as the
Prince's private physician. With many apologies and compliments, he
informed Gerrard that his master, cut to the heart by the Rajah's
behaviour, had taken to his bed as soon as he reached home, and was too
ill to be disturbed. He had turned his face to the wall, said the old
man dramatically, and though he had laid the letters on his brow and eyes
in token of gratitude, he had not even strength to read them at