"Made in Delhi," he half whispered. "A wonderful thing, probably worth two lakhs of rupees,[13] or even more. It is old, too. The craftsman who fashioned this clasp is not to be found nowadays. Why, it may have been worn by Nurmahal herself! Each of its fifty pearls could supply a chapter of a romance. And you found it, together with this safe-conduct, in Malcolm's turban?"

[Footnote 13: At that time, $100,000.]

"Yes, uncle. Do you think I would speak carelessly of such a precious object? When one has discovered a treasure it is a trait of human nature to note pretty closely the place where it came to light."

Mayne was yet too much taken up with puzzling side-issues to pay heed to Winifred's demeanor. He remembered the extraordinary proposal made by Roshinara to Malcolm ere she drove away to Delhi from her father's hunting lodge. Could it be possible that his young friend had met the princess on other occasions than that which Malcolm laughingly described as the lunging of Nejdi and the plunging of his master? It occurred to him now, with a certain chilling misgiving, that he had himself broken in with a bewildered exclamation when Frank seemed to regard the Princess's offer of employment in her service as worthy of serious thought. There were other aspects of the affair, aspects so sinister that he almost refused to harbor them. Rather to gain time than with any definite motive, he stooped over the pa.s.s again, meaning to read it word for word.

"Of course you have not forgotten, uncle, that Mr. Malcolm took us into his confidence so far as to tell us of the curious letter that reached him after the second battle outside Delhi?" said Winifred. "It saved him at Bithoor when the men from Cawnpore meant to hang him, and, seeing that he had the one article in his possession, it is pa.s.sing strange that he should have omitted to mention the other--to me."

Then the man knew what it all meant to the girl. He placed his arm around her neck and drew her towards him.

"My poor Winifred!" he murmured, "you might at least have been spared such a revelation at this moment."

His sympathy broke down her pride. She sobbed as though her heart would yield beneath the strain. For a little while there was no sound in the room but Winifred's plaints, while ever and anon the walls shook with the crash of the cannonade and the bursting of sh.e.l.ls.

Ahmed Ullah, Moulvie of Fyzabad, had a quick ear for the arrival of the native officer of cavalry from Lucknow.

"Peace be with thee, brother!" said he, after a shrewd glance at the travel-worn and blood-stained man and horse. "Thou has ridden far and fast. What news hast thou of the Jehad,[14] and how fares it at Lucknow?"

[Footnote 14: "Religious war."]

"With thee be peace!" was the reply. "We fought the Nazarenes yesterday at a place called Chinhut, and sent hundreds of the infidel dogs to the fifth circle of Jehannum. The few who escaped our swords are penned up in the Residency, and its walls are now crumbling before our guns. By the tomb of Nizam-ud-din, the unbelievers must have fallen ere the present hour."

The moulvie's wicked eyes sparkled.

"Praise be to Allah and his Prophet forever!" he cried. "How came this thing to pa.s.s?"

"My regiment took the lead," said the rissaldar, proudly. "We had long chafed under the commands of the huzoors. At last we rose and made short work of our officers. You see here--" and he touched a rent in his right side, "where one of them tried to stop the thrust that ended him. But I clave him to the chin, the swine-eater, and when Larrence-sahib attacked us at Chinhut we chased him over the Ca.n.a.l and through the streets."

"Wao! wao! This is good hearing! Wast thou sent by some of the faithful to summon me, brother?"

"To summon thee and all true believers to the green standard. Yet had I one other object in riding to Rai Bareilly. A certain Nazarene, Malcolm by name, an officer of the 3d Cavalry, was bidden by Larrence to make for Allahabad and seek help. The story runs that the Nazarenes are mustering there for a last stand ere we drive them into the sea. This Malcolm-sahib--"

"Enough!" said the moulvie, fiercely, for his self-love was wounded at learning that the rebel messenger cla.s.sed him with the mob. "We have him here. He is in safe keeping when he is in the hands of Ahmed Ullah!"

"What!" exclaimed the newcomer with a mighty oath. "Are you the saintly Moulvie of Fyzabad?"

"Whom else, then, did you expect to find?"

"You, indeed, O revered one. But not here. My orders were, once I had secured the Nazarene, to send urgently to Fyzabad and bid you hurry to Lucknow with all speed."

"Ha! Say'st thou, friend. Who gave thee this message?"

"One whom thou wilt surely listen to. Yet these things are not for every man to hear. We must speak of them apart."

The moulvie was appeased. Nay, more, his ambition was fired.

"Come with me into the house. You are in need of food and rest. Come! We can talk while you eat."

He drew nearer, but a woman's voice was raised from behind a screen in one of the rooms.

"Tarry yet a minute, friend. I would learn more of events in Lucknow.

Tell us more fully what has taken place there."

"The Begum of Oudh must be obeyed," said Ahmed Ullah with a warning glance at the other. He was met with a villainous and intriguing look that would have satisfied Machiavelli, but the officer bowed low before the screen.

"I am, indeed, honored to be the bearer of good tidings to royal ears,"

said he. "Doubtless I should have been entrusted with letters for your highness were not the city in some confusion owing to the fighting."

"Who commands our troops?" came the sharp demand.

"At present, your highness, the Nawab of Rampur represents the King of Oudh."

"The Nawab of Rampur! That cannot be tolerated. Ahmed Ullah!"

"I am here," growled the moulvie, smiling sourly.

"We must depart within the hour. Let my litter be prepared, and send men on horseback to provide relays of carriers every ten miles. Delay not.

The matter presses."

There could be no mistaking the agitation of the hidden speaker. That an admitted rival of her father's dynasty should be even the nominal leader of the revolt was not to be endured. The mere suggestion of such a thing was gall and wormwood. None realized better than this arch-priestess of cabal that a predominating influence gained at the outset of a new regime might never be weakened by those who were shut out by circ.u.mstances from a share in the control of events. Even the fanatical moulvie gasped at this intelligence, though his shrewd wit taught him that the rissaldar had not exchanged glances with him without good reason.

"Come, then," said he, "and eat. I have much occupation, and it will free thy hands if I see to the hanging of the Feringhi forthwith."

"Nay, that cannot be," was the cool reply, as the two entered the building. "I would not have ridden so hard through the night for the mere stringing up of one Nazarene. By the holy Kaaba, we gave dozens of them a speedier death yesterday."

"What other errand hast thou? The matter touches only the Nazarene's attempt to reach Allahabad, I suppose?"

"That is a small thing. Our brothers at Cawnpore may have secured Allahabad and other towns in the Doab long ere to-day. This Frank comes back with me to Lucknow. If I bring him alive I earn a jaghir,[15] if dead, only a few gold mohurs."

[Footnote 15: An estate.]

"Thy words are strange, brother."

"Not so strange as the need that this Feringhi should live till he reaches Lucknow. He hath in his keeping certain papers that concern the Roshinara Begum of Delhi, and he must be made to confess their whereabouts. So far as that goes, what is the difference between a tree in Rai Bareilly and a tree in Lucknow?"

"True, if the affair presses. Nevertheless, to those who follow me, I may have the bestowing of many jaghirs."

"I will follow thee with all haste, O holy one," was the answer, "but a field in a known village is larger than a township in an unknown kingdom. Let me secure this jaghir first, O worthy of honor, and I shall come quickly to thee for the others."

"How came it that Nawab of Rampur a.s.sumed the leadership?" inquired Ahmed Ullah, his mind reverting to the graver topic of the rebellion.

The other scowled sarcastically.

"He is of no account," he muttered. "Was I mistaken in thinking that thou didst not want all my budget opened for a woman? He who gave me a message for thee was the moullah who dwells near the Imambara. Dost thou not know him? Ghazi-ud-din. _He_ sent me. 'Tell the Moulvie of Fyzabad that he is wanted--he will understand,' said he. And now, when I have eaten, lead me to the Feringhi. Leave him to me. Within two days I shall have more news for thee."

The name of Ghazi-ud-din, a firebrand of the front rank in Lucknow, proved to Ahmed Ullah that his opportunity had come. He gave orders that the wants of the cavalry officer and his horse were to be attended to, while he himself bustled off to prepare for an immediate journey.