“For bad news has come to us.  Sahib Linforth met his death two days ago, fifty miles from here, in the camp of his Excellency Abdulla Mahommed, the Commander-in-Chief to his Highness.  Abdulla Mahommed is greatly grieved, knowing well that this violent act will raise up a prejudice against him and his Highness.  Moreover, he too would live in friendship with the British.  But his soldiers are justly provoked by the violation of treaties by the British, and it is impossible to stay their hands.  Therefore, before Abdulla Mahommed joins hands with my master, Wafadar Nazim, before this fort, it will be well for the Colonel Sahib and his troops to be safely out of reach.”

Luffe was doubtful whether to believe the words or no.  The story might be a lie to frighten him and to discourage the garrison.  On the other hand, it was likely enough to be true.  And if true, it was the worst news which Luffe had heard for many a long day.

“Let me hear how the accident—­occurred,” he said, smiling grimly at the euphemism he used.

“Sahib Linforth was in the tent set apart for him by Abdulla Mahommed.  There were guards to protect him, but it seems they did not watch well.  Huzoor, all have been punished, but punishment will not bring Sahib Linforth to life again.  Therefore hear the words of Wafadar Nazim, spoken now for the last time.  He himself will escort you and your soldiers and officers to the borders of British territory, so that he may rejoice to know that you are safe.  You will leave his Highness Mir Ali behind, who will resign his throne in favour of his uncle Wafadar, and so there will be peace.”

“And what will happen to Mir Ali, whom we have promised to protect?”

The Diwan shrugged his shoulders in a gentle, deprecatory fashion and smiled his melancholy smile.  His gesture and his attitude suggested that it was not in the best of taste to raise so unpleasant a question.  But he did not reply in words.

“You will tell Wafadar Nazim that we will know how to protect his Highness the Khan, and that we will teach Abdulla Mahommed a lesson in that respect before many moons have passed,” Luffe said sternly.  “As for this story of Sahib Linforth, I do not believe a word of it.”

The Diwan nodded his head.

“It was believed that you would reply in this way.

“Therefore here are proofs.”  He drew from his dress a silver watch upon a leather watch-guard, a letter-case, and to these he added a letter in Linforth’s own hand.  He handed them to Luffe.

Luffe handed the watch and chain to Dewes, and opened the letter-case.  There was a letter in it, written in a woman’s handwriting, and besides the letter the portrait of a girl.  He glanced at the letter and glanced at the portrait.  Then he passed them on to Dewes.

Dewes looked at the portrait with a greater care.  The face was winning rather than pretty.  It seemed to him that it was one of those faces which might become beautiful at many moments through the spirit of the woman, rather than from any grace of feature.  If she loved, for instance, she would be really beautiful for the man she loved.