Instead of heading straight for home, in which case—­although he did not know it—­he would have been surely overhauled and brought to bay, he led at a stiff hand gallop to the Jew’s, changed horses, crossed the ford by the burning ghats, and swooped in a wide half-circle for the sandy trail that would take him homeward.  He made the home road miles beyond the point where Jaimihr waited for him—­drew rein into the long-striding amble that desert-taught horses love—­and led on, laughing.

“Ho!” He laughed.  “Ho-ho!  Here, then, is the end of Mahommed Gunga’s scheming!  Now, when he comes with arguments to make me fight on the British side, what a tale I have for him!  Ho!  What a swearing there will be!  I will give him his missionary people, and say, ’There, Mahommed Gunga, cousin mine, there is my word redeemed—­there is thy man into the bargain—­there are three horses for thee—­and I—­I am at Howrah’s beck and call!’ Allah!  What a swearing there will be!”

There was swearing, viler and more blasphemous than any of which Mahommed Gunga might be capable, where Jaimihr waited in the dark.  He waited until the yellow dawn broke up the first dim streaks of violet before he realized that Alwa had given him the slip; and he cursed even the high priest of Siva when that worthy accosted him and asked what tidings.

“Another trick!” swore Jaimihr.  “So, thou and thy temple rats saw fit to send me packing for the night!  What devils’ tricks have been hatched out in my absence?”

The high priest started to protest, but Jaimihr silenced him with coarse-mouthed threats.

“I, too, can play double when occasion calls for it!” he swore.  And with that hint at coming trouble he clattered on home to his palace.

To begin with, when he reached home, he had the guard beaten all but unconscious for having dared let raiders in during the night before; then he sent them, waterless and thirsty, back to the dungeon.  He felt better then, and called for ink and paper.

For hours he thought and wrote alternately, tearing up letter after letter.  Then, at last, he read over a composition that satisfied him and set his seal at the foot.  He placed the whole in a silver tube, poured wax into the joint, and called for the fat man who had been responsible for Ali Partab’s capture.

“Dog!” he snarled.  “Interfering fool!  All this was thy doing!  Didst thou see the guard beaten awhile ago?”

“I did.  It was a lordly beating.  The men are all but dead but will live for such another one.”

“Wouldst thou be so beaten?”

“How can I prevent, if your highness wishes?”

“Take this.  It is intended for Peshawur but may be given to any British officer above the rank of major.  It calls for a receipt.  Do not dare come back, or be caught in Howrah City, without a receipt for that tube and its contents intact!”

“If Alwa and Mahommed Gunga are in league with my brother,” muttered Jaimihr to himself when the fat Hindoo had gone, “then the sooner the British quarrel with both of them the better.  Howrah alone I can dispose of easily enough, and there is yet time before rebellion starts for the British to spike the guns of the other two.  By the time that is done, I will be Maharajah!”