Assassination can be raised to a fine art in a Native State—­where a man’s life is worth far less than a cow’s if the State be a Hindu one—­provided that the prying eyes of British Political Officers are not turned that way.  True, Dermot was in British territory, but in such an uncivilised part of it that his removal ought not to be difficult considering his habit of wandering alone about the hills and jungle.

So thought the Dewan.  But the old man found to his surprise that it was very difficult to put his hand on any one willing to attempt Dermot’s life.  No sum however large could tempt any Bhuttia on either side of the border-line, or any Hindu in the Duars.  Even the Brahmin extremists acting as missionaries on the tea-gardens fought shy of him.  Superstition was his sure shield.

Then the Dewan fell back on the bazaar of Lalpuri City.  But in that den of criminals there was not one cut-throat that did not know of the terrible Elephant God-Man and the appalling vengeance that he had wreaked on the Rajah’s soldiers in the forest.  The Dewan might cajole or threaten, but there was not one ruffian in the bazaar who did not prefer to risk his anger to the certainty of the hideous fate awaiting the rash mortal that crossed the path of this dread being who fed his magic elephants on the living flesh of his foes.

The Dewan was not baffled.  If the local villains failed him an assassin must be imported from elsewhere.  So the extremist leaders in Calcutta, being appealed to, sent more than one fanatical young Brahmin from that city to Lalpuri, where they were put in the way to remove Dermot.  But when in bazaar or Palace his reputation reached their ears they drew back.  One was sent direct from Calcutta to the Terai, so that he would not be scared by the foolish tales of the men of Lalpuri.  But his first enquiries among the countryfolk as to where to find Dermot brought him such illuminating information that, not daring to return unsuccessful to those who had sent him, he turned against his own breast the weapon that he had meant for the British officer.

Then the Dewan sent for Chunerbutty and took counsel with him, as being more conversant with European ways.  And the result was a cunning and elaborate plot, such as from its very tortuousness and complexity would appeal to the heart of an Oriental.

The Rajah of Lalpuri, being of Mahratta descent, tried to copy in many things the great Mahratta chiefs in other parts of India, such as the Gaekwar of Baroda and the Maharajah Holkar of Indore.  He had long been anxious to imitate Holkar’s method of celebrating the Dussera or Durga Festival, particularly that part of it where a bull is sacrificed in public by the Maharajah on the fourth day of the feast.  The Dewan had always opposed it, but now he suddenly veered round and suggested that it should be done.  In Indore all the Europeans of the cantonment and many