“Don’t fire,” cried Luffe to the sentinel, and he leaned over the wall.

“You come from Wafadar Nazim, and alone?”

“Huzoor, my life be on it.”

“With news of Sahib Linforth?”

“Yes, news which his Highness Wafadar Nazim thinks it good for you to know”; and the voice in the darkness rose to insolence.

Luffe strained his eyes downwards.  He could see nothing.  He listened, but he could hear no whispering voices.  He hesitated.  He was very anxious to hear news of Linforth.

“I will let you in,” he cried; “but if there be more than one the lives of all shall be the price.”

He went down into the fort.  Under his orders Captain Lynes drew up inside the gate a strong guard of Sikhs with their rifles loaded and bayonets fixed.  A few lanterns threw a dim light upon the scene, glistening here and there upon the polish of an accoutrement or a rifle-barrel.

“Present,” whispered Lynes, and the rifles were raised to the shoulder, with every muzzle pointing towards the gate.

Then Lynes himself went forward, removed the bars, and turned the key in the lock.  The gate swung open noiselessly a little way, and a tall man, clad in white flowing robes, with a deeply pock-marked face and a hooked nose, walked majestically in.  He stood quite still while the gate was barred again behind him, and looked calmly about him with inquisitive bright eyes.

“Will you follow me?” said Luffe, and he led the way through the rabbit-warren of narrow alleys into the centre of the fort.

CHAPTER III

LINFORTH’S DEATH

Luffe had taken a large bare low-roofed room supported upon pillars for his council-chamber.  Thither he conducted his visitor.  Camp chairs were placed for himself and Major Dewes and Captain Lynes.  Cushions were placed upon the ground for his visitor.  Luffe took his seat in the middle, with Dewes upon his right and Lynes upon his left.  Dewes expected him at once to press for information as to Linforth.  But Luffe knew very well that certain time must first be wasted in ceremonious preliminaries.  The news would only be spoken after a time and in a roundabout fashion.

“If we receive you without the distinction which is no doubt your due,” said Luffe politely, “you must remember that I make it a rule not to welcome visitors at night.”

The visitor smiled and bowed.

“It is a great grief to his Highness Wafadar Nazim that you put so little faith in him,” replied the Chilti.  “See how he trusts you!  He sends me, his Diwan, his Minister of Finance, in the night time to come up to your walls and into your fort, so great is his desire to learn that the Colonel Sahib is well.”

Luffe in his turn bowed with a smile of gratitude.  It was not the time to point out that his Highness Wafadar Nazim was hardly taking the course which a genuine solicitude for the Colonel Sahib’s health would recommend.