present.
Would his beloved friend Jirad Sahib pardon his seeming discourtesy, and
return to the capital, whither he would follow as soon as the life-giving
influences of his sovereign's kindness had renewed his spirit? Gerrard
expressed his sorrow at the Prince's illness, but offered to visit him
and read the letters aloud, at the same time investing him with the
_khilat_. But this was refused. Sher Singh's wounded spirit could not
endure the sight of a stranger at present, it seemed, and he could only
express his deep regret that for so unworthy an object Jirad Sahib should
have interrupted his important labours, and entreat him to waste no more
of his valuable time. There was not even a word said of lodging him and
his escort in the fort for the night. Gerrard's anger rose.

"I came to see Sher Singh, and here I stay till I have seen him," he
said. "We will pitch here, below the gateway, and see which of us will
tire first."

[1] Grant, patent.

[2] _Hathis_, elephants.

CHAPTER XI.

MURDER MOST FOUL.

However unwelcome might be the presence of Gerrard and his force, Sher
Singh could not, for very shame's sake, show his feelings, and a host
of servants came down from the fort to point out the best
camping-ground, and to bring the _rasad_, or free rations, necessarily
provided for guests. It was evidently hoped, however, that Gerrard
might change his mind after a night's rest for in the morning the fakir
appeared again with fresh entreaties that he would depart, and not add
to the Prince's self-reproach the burden of feeling that he was
detaining him here. Gerrard replied by another demand for a personal
interview, which was refused in horror, the fakir declaring that three
days and nights of mental agony had reduced Sher Singh to such a wreck
that it was unendurable to him to be seen until he had recovered a
little. Gerrard offered suitable condolences, remarked that the sooner
the Prince recovered the sooner would he himself be able to depart, and
as a fairly clear sign of his intentions, devoted some hours to the
improvement of his camp, to the ill-concealed disgust of his soldiers,
who thought themselves entitled to a long rest after the hardships of
the march. In the evening Charteris rode in, lean and tanned to an
even deeper pink than before, attended by a new bodyguard he was
raising from among his reformed robbers, who looked by no means
reformed, and were Mohammedans to a man. The