From the soldiers about came wild huzzahs.
Ahmed and Lal Singh, packed away in the heart of the crowd, exchanged
gloomy looks. Once the army was Umballa's, they readily understood
what would follow: Umballa would acclaim himself, and the troops would
back him.
"We have a thousand guns and ten thousand rounds of ammunition,"
murmured Lal Singh.
"Perhaps we had best prevail upon Ramabai to strike at once. But wait.
The Colonel Sahib understands. He knows that if he signs anything it
will directly proved his death-warrant. There is still an obstacle at
Umballa's feet. Listen!"
Sadly Umballa recounted his adventure in full. The daughter of the
king and his friend, the American hunter, were dead. He, Umballa, had
arrived too late.
The colonel, mad with rage, was about to give Umballa the lie publicly,
when he saw a warning hand uplifted, and below that hand the face of
Ahmed. Ahmed shook his head. The colonel's shoulders drooped. In
that sign he read danger.
"They live," said Ahmed. "That is enough for the present. Let us
begone to the house of Ramabai."
"The Colonel Sahib is safe for the time being."
"And will be so long as he refuses to open the treasury door to
Umballa. There is a great deal to smile about, Lal Singh. Here is a
treasury, guarded by seven leopards, savage as savage can be. Only two
keepers ever dare approach them, and these keepers refuse to cage the
leopards without a formal order from the king or queen. Superstition
forbids Umballa to make way with the brutes. The people, your people
and mine, Lal Singh, believe that these leopards are sacred, and any
who kills them commits sacrilege, and you know what that amounts to
here. So there he dodders; too cowardly to fly in the face of
superstition. He must torture and humiliate the Colonel Sahib and his
daughter. Ah, these white people! They have heads and hearts of
steel. I know."
"And Umballa has the heart of a flea-bitten pariah dog. When the time
comes he will grovel and squirm and whine."
"He will," agreed Ahmed. "His feet are even now itching for the
treadmill."
The colonel was taken to one of the palace chambers, given a tub and
fresh clothing. Outside in the corridors guards patrolled, and there
were four who watched the window. He was a king, but well guarded.
Well, they had crowned him, but never should Umballa, through any
signature of his, put his hand into the royal treasury. Besides, this
time he had seen pity and sympathy in the faces of many who had looked
upon his entrance to the city. The one ray of comfort lay in the
knowledge that faithful Ahmed lived.
He dared not think of Kathlyn. He forced his mind to dwell upon his
surroundings, his own state of misery. Bruce was there, and Bruce was
a man of action and resource. He would give a good account of himself
before those bronze devils in the desert made away with him. He feared
not for Kathlyn's death, only her future. For they doubtless had lied
to Umballa. They would not kill Kathlyn so long as they believed she
was worth a single rupee.