Name her own terms—­name her own terms—­name her own terms!  The words dinned through her head and she could grasp no other thought.  She was alone in a cell with Jaimihr, and she could get out of it if she would name her terms!  She must name them—­she must hurry—­what were they?  What were her terms?  She could not think.

“Understand, sahiba.  Certain things are sure.  It is sure my men will come.  It is sure that every Rangar on this rock will meet a very far from pleasant death—­”

He grinned, and though she could not see him grin, she knew that he was doing it.  She knew that he was even then imagining a hundred horrors that the Rangars would endure before they died.  She might name her terms.  She could save them.

“No!” she hissed hoarsely.  “No!  They are my terms!  I name them!  You must spare them—­spare the Rangars—­spare every man on this hill, and theirs, and all they have!”

“Truly are those thy terms, sahiba?”

“Truly!  What others can I ask?”

“They are granted, sahiba!”

“Oh, thank God!”

She knew that he was speaking at least half the truth.  She knew his power.  She knew enough of Howrah City’s politics to be convinced that he would not be left at the mercy of a little band of Rangars.  She knew that there were not enough Rangars on the whole countryside to oppose the army that would surely come to his rescue.  And whether he were dead or living, she knew well enough that the vengeance would be wreaked on every living body on the hill.  Alwa might feel confident, not she.  She trembled now with joy at the thought that she—­she the most helpless and useless of all of them—­might save the lives of all.

But then another phase of the problem daunted her.  She might help Jaimihr go.  He might escape unobserved with her aid.  But then?  What then?  What would the Rangars do to her?  Had she sufficient courage to face that?  It was not fear now that swept over her so much as wonder at herself.  Jaimihr detected something different in her mental attitude, and, since almost any change means weakness to the Oriental mind, he was quick to try to take advantage of it.  He guessed right at the first attempt.

“And what wilt thou do here, sahiba?  When I am gone, and there is none here to love thee—­”

“Peace!” she commanded.  “Peace!  I have suffered enough—­”

“Thou wilt suffer more, should the Rangars learn—­”

“That is my business!  Let me pass!  I have bargained, and I will try to fulfil my part!”

She stepped toward the door, but he held out both his arms and she saw them.  She had no intention of being embraced by him, whatever their conspiracy.

“Stand back!” she ordered.

“Nay, nay, sahiba!  Listen!  Escape with me!  These Rangars will not believe without proof that thou hast saved their lives by bargaining.  They will show thee short shrift indeed when my loss is discovered.  Come now and I will make thee Maharanee in a week!”