“Well, then, the thing to do is to emulate the mugger.  But this”—­Hodson lifted the paper and he grew crisp, incisive, his grey eyes blued like temper purpling polished steel—­“we’ve got to act:  they’ve got to be delivered, and soon.”

“I am ready, Sir.”

“It’s a dangerous mission—­most dangerous.”

“Pardon, Sir?”

“Sorry, Captain.  I was just thinking aloud—­musing; forgive me.  Perhaps when one likes a young man he lets the paternal spirit come in where it doesn’t belong.  I’m sorry.  There’s a trusty Patan here who could go with you,” Hodson continued, “and this side of his own border he is absolutely to be trusted; I have my doubts if any Patan can be relied upon by us across the border.”

“I will go alone,” Barlow said quietly.  Then his strong white teeth showed in a smile.  “You know the Moslem saying, Colonel, that ten Dervishes can sleep on one blanket, but a kingdom can only hold one king.  I don’t mean about the honour of it, but it will be easier for me.  I went alone through the Maris tribe when we wanted to know what the trouble was that threatened up above the Bolan, and I had no difficulty.  You know, Sir, the playful name the chaps have given me for years?”

“Yes—­the ’Patan’—­I’ve heard it.”

“I make a good Musselman—­scarce need any make-up, I’m so dark; I can rattle off the namaz (daily prayer), and sing the moonakib, the hymn of the followers of the Prophet.”

“Yes,” Hodson said, his words coming slowly out of a deep think, “there will be Patans in the Pindari camp; in fact Pindari is an all-embracing name, having little of nationality about it.  Rajputs, Bundoolas, Patans, men of Oudh, Sindies—­men who have the lust of battle and loot, all flock to the Pindari Chief.  Yes, it’s a good idea, Captain, the disguise; not only for an unnoticed entrance to the camp, but to escape a waylaying by Nana Sahib’s cut-throats.”

“Yes, Colonel, from what I have learned—­from the Gulab it was, Sir—­the Dewan has an inkling that I am going on a mission; and if I rode as myself the King might lose an officer, and officers cost pounds in the making.”

The Resident toyed with the papers on his desk, his brow wrinkled from a debate going on behind it; he rose, and grasping the black Kali carried it back to the cabinet, saying:  “That devilish thing, so suggestive of what we are always up against here, makes me shiver.”

Then he sat down, adding, “Captain, there is another important matter connected with this.  The Rana of Udaipur is being stripped of every rupee by Holkar and Sindhia; they take turn about at him.  Holkar is up there now, where we have chased him—­threatened to sack Udaipur unless he were paid seventy lakhs, seven million rupees—­the accursed thief!  We have managed to get an envoy to the Rana with a view to having him, and the other smaller rulers of Mewar, join forces with us to crush forever the Mahratta power—­drive them out of Mewar for all time.  The Rajputs are a brave lot—­men of high thought, and it is too bad to have these accursed cut-throats bleeding to death such a race.  If the Rana would sign this paper also as an assurance of friendship, to be shown the Pindari Chief, it would help greatly.”