“Let me pass!”

She certainly was frightened now.  It dawned on her, as it had at once on him, that at the least commotion on his part or on hers a dozen Rangars would be likely to come running.  And just as he had done, she wondered what explanation she would give in that case, and who would be likely to believe it.  To have been caught going to the cell would have been one thing; to be caught in it would be another.  He divined her thoughts.

“Have no fear, sahiba.  Thou and I are friends.”

She did not answer, for words would not come.  Besides, she was beginning to realize that words would be of little help to her.  A woman who will tell nothing but the truth under any circumstances and will surely keep her promises is at a disadvantage when conversing with a man who surely will not tell the truth if he can help it and who regards his given word with almost equal disrespect.

“I have no fear, sahiba.  I am not afraid to open this door wide and make a bid for liberty.  It would not be wise, that is all, and thou—­ and I must deal in wisdom.”

His words came through the dark very evenly—­spaced evenly—­as though he weighed each one of them before he voiced it.  She gathered the impression that he was thinking for his very life.  She felt unable to think for her own.  She felt impelled to listen—­incredulous, helpless, frightened,—­not a little ashamed.  She was thinking more of the awful things those Moslem gentlemen would say about her should they come and discover her in Jaimihr’s cell.

“Listen, sahiba!  From end to end of India thy people are either dead, or else face to face with death.  There is no escape anywhere for any man or woman—­no hope, no chance.  The British doom is sealed.  So is the doom of every man who dared to side with them.”

She shuddered.  But she had to listen.

“There will be an army here within a day or two.  My men—­and I number them by thousands—­will come and rip these Rangars from their roost.  Those that are not crucified will be thrown down from the summit, and there shall be a Hindoo shrine where they have worshipped their false god.  Then, sahiba, if thou art here—­perhaps—­there might—­yet—­be a way-perhaps, yes?—­a way, still, to escape me?”

She was trembling.  She could not help beginning to believe him.  Whatever might be true of what he said was certainly not comforting.

“But, while my army comes in search of me, my brother Howrah will be making merry with my palace and belongings.  There will be devastation and other things in my army’s rear for which there is no need and for which I have no stomach.  I detest the thought of them, sahiba.  Therefore, sahiba, I would drive a bargain.  Notice, sahiba, I say not one word of love, though love such as mine is has seldom been offered to a woman.  I say no word of love—­as yet.  I say, help me to escape by night, when I may make my way unseen back to my men:  enable me to reach Howrah before my dear brother is aware of my trouble and before his men can start plundering, and name your own terms, sahiba!”