But Bootea raised a slim hand, and, her voice trembling with intensity, cried:  “Commander, Amir Khan was not slain with the dagger, he was killed by the towel.  Look you at his throat and you will see the mark.”

“Bismillah!” came in a cry of astonishment from the Commander’s throat, and the marble walls of the Surya-Mahal (room of audience) echoed gasps and curses.  Kassim himself had knelt by the dead Chief, and now rising, said:  “By Allah! it is true.  That dog—­” his finger was thrusting like a dagger at Barlow.

But Bootea’s clear voice hushed the rising clamour:  “No, Commander, the sahibs know not the thug trick of the roomal, and few thugs could have overcome the Chief.”

“Who then killed him—­speak quick, and with the truth,” Kassim commanded.

He was interrupted by one of Hunsa’s guards, crying:  “Here, where go you—­you had not leave!” And Hunsa, who had turned to slip away, was jerked back to where he had stood.

“It is that one,” Bootea declared, sweeping a hand toward Hunsa.  “About his waist is even now the yellow-and-white roomal that is the weapon of Bhowanee.  With that he killed Amir Khan.  Take it from him, and see if there be not black hairs from the beard of the Chief in its soft mesh.”

“By the grace of Allah it is a truth!” the Commander ejaculated when the cloth passed to him had been examined.  “It is a revelation such as came to Mahomet, and out of the mouth of a woman.  Great is Allah!”

“Will the Commander have Hunsa searched for the paper the Sahib has spoken of?” Bootea asked.

“In his turban—­” Kassim commanded—­“in his turban, the nest of a thief’s loot or the hiding-place of the knife of a murderer.  Look ye in his turban!”

As the turban was stripped from the head of Hunsa the Pindari gave it a whirling twist that sent its many yards of blue muslin streaming out like a ribbon and the parchment message fell to the floor.

“Ah-ha!” and a man, stooping, thrust it into the hands of the Commander.

The Pindari who held the turban, threw it almost at the feet of Bootea, saying, “Methinks the slayer will need this no more.”

Bootea picked up the blue cloth and rolled it into a ball, saying, “If it is permitted I will take this to those who entrusted Hunsa with this foul mission to show them that he is dead.”

“A clever woman thou art—­it is a wise thought; take it by all means, for indeed that dog’s head will need little when they have finished with him,” the soldier agreed.

Kassim had taken the written paper closer to the light.  At sight of the thumb blood-stain upon the document, he gave a bellow of rage.  “Look you all!” he cried holding it spread out in the light of the lamp; “here is our Chief’s message to us given after he was dead; he sealed it with his thumb in his own blood, after he was dead.  A miracle, calling for vengeance.  Hunsa, dog, thou shalt die for hours—­thou shalt die by inches, for it was thee.”