On the palace steps he harangued the people, praising his deeds.  He alone had gone into the wilderness and faced death to ransom their lawful king.  Why these bonds?  The king had shirked his duty; he had betrayed his trust; but in order that the people should be no longer without a head, this man should become their prisoner king; he should be forced to sign laws for their betterment.  Without the royal signature the treasury could not be touched, and now the soldiers should be paid in full.

From the soldiers about came wild huzzahs.

Ahmed and Lal Singh, packed away in the heart of the crowd, exchanged gloomy looks.  Once the army was Umballa’s, they readily understood what would follow:  Umballa would acclaim himself, and the troops would back him.

“We have a thousand guns and ten thousand rounds of ammunition,” murmured Lal Singh.

“Perhaps we had best prevail upon Ramabai to strike at once.  But wait.  The Colonel Sahib understands.  He knows that if he signs anything it will directly proved his death-warrant.  There is still an obstacle at Umballa’s feet.  Listen!”

Sadly Umballa recounted his adventure in full.  The daughter of the king and his friend, the American hunter, were dead.  He, Umballa, had arrived too late.

The colonel, mad with rage, was about to give Umballa the lie publicly, when he saw a warning hand uplifted, and below that hand the face of Ahmed.  Ahmed shook his head.  The colonel’s shoulders drooped.  In that sign he read danger.

“They live,” said Ahmed.  “That is enough for the present.  Let us begone to the house of Ramabai.”

“The Colonel Sahib is safe for the time being.”

“And will be so long as he refuses to open the treasury door to Umballa.  There is a great deal to smile about, Lal Singh.  Here is a treasury, guarded by seven leopards, savage as savage can be.  Only two keepers ever dare approach them, and these keepers refuse to cage the leopards without a formal order from the king or queen.  Superstition forbids Umballa to make way with the brutes.  The people, your people and mine, Lal Singh, believe that these leopards are sacred, and any who kills them commits sacrilege, and you know what that amounts to here.  So there he dodders; too cowardly to fly in the face of superstition.  He must torture and humiliate the Colonel Sahib and his daughter.  Ah, these white people!  They have heads and hearts of steel.  I know.”

“And Umballa has the heart of a flea-bitten pariah dog.  When the time comes he will grovel and squirm and whine.”

“He will,” agreed Ahmed.  “His feet are even now itching for the treadmill.”

The colonel was taken to one of the palace chambers, given a tub and fresh clothing.  Outside in the corridors guards patrolled, and there were four who watched the window.  He was a king, but well guarded.  Well, they had crowned him, but never should Umballa, through any signature of his, put his hand into the royal treasury.  Besides, this time he had seen pity and sympathy in the faces of many who had looked upon his entrance to the city.  The one ray of comfort lay in the knowledge that faithful Ahmed lived.