He knew that Alwa and the Rangars would not help him unless Jaimihr first attacked him, for Alwa would be sure to stand on the strict letter of his oath.  And he was afraid of the Rangars.  He feared that they might protect him and depose him afterward.  He reasoned that that, too, might be construed into a strict interpretation of the terms of Alwa’s promise!

He consented to collect his army.  He kept it under arms.  He even paid it something on account of arrears of wages and served out rations.  But, to the disgust of the priests who asked nothing better than dissension between the brothers, he jumped at the idea of uniting with Jaimihr to defeat Alwa’s men.  He knew—­just as the priests feared—­ that once he could trick and defeat Jaimihr he could treat the troublesome priests as cavalierly as he chose.

So the priests made a third knot in the tangle and tried desperately at the last moment to recreate dissension between the rival royal camps.

“Jaimihr is getting ready to attack you!” they assured Howrah.  “Attack him first!”

“I will wait until he does attack,” the Maharajah answered.  “For the moment we are friends and have a cause in common.”

“Howrah’s men will desert to you the moment you make a move to win the throne,” they assured Jaimihr.

“Wait!” answered Jaimihr.  “Wait but a day or two.  I will move fast as I see fit when I am ready.  For the present my cause and my brother’s cause are one.”

Spies brought in news to Maharajah, Prince, and priest of the hurried raising of a Rangar army.  The Maharajah and the Prince laughed up their sleeves and the priests swore horribly; the interjection of another element—­another creed—­into the complication did not suit the priestly “book.”  They were the only men who were really worried about Alwa.

And another spy—­Joanna—­disappeared.  No longer garbed as a man, she had hung about the palace, and—­known to nearly all the sweepers —­she had overheard things.  Garbed as a man again, she suddenly evaporated in thin air, and Rosemary McClean was left without a servant or any means of communication with the outside world.

CHAPTER XXXII

    The ringed wolf glared the circle round
    Through baleful, blue-lit eye,
    Not unforgetful of his debt. 
    “Now, heed ye how ye draw the net.” 
    Quoth he:  “I’ll do some damage yet
    Or ere my turn to die!”

The mare that had been a present from Mahommed Gunga was brought out and saddled, together with a fresh horse for the Risaldar.  The veteran had needed no summoning, for with a soldier’s instinct he had wakened at the moment his self-allotted four hours had expired.  He mounted a little stiffly, and tried his horse’s paces up and down the courtyard once or twice before nodding to Cunningham.

“All ready, sahib.”

“Ready, Mahommed Gunga.”