“No, you idiot!  A lady doctor only.  And nobody’s to know.  You’d better warn your men that if there’s any talk about this night’s business the palace guard will catch the first blast of the typhoon.  Gungadhura’s anger isn’t mild in these days!”

“Show me the letter again,” said the Rajput.  “Let me keep it in case I am brought to book.”

Tom translated that to Tess and her husband.

“It’s this way, ma’am.  If you let him keep the letter I suspect he’ll let you go in.  But he may show it to the maharajah in the morning, and then there’ll be hot fat in the fire.  If you don’t let him keep it, perhaps he’ll admit you and perhaps he won’t; but if you keep the letter, and trouble comes of it, he and I’ll both be in the soup!  Never mind about me.  Maybe I’m too valuable to be sent packing.  I’ll take the chance.  But this man’s a decent soldier, and he’d be helpless.”

“Let him keep it,” said Tess.

Tom turned on the Rajput again.

“Here’s the letter.  Take it.  But mark this!  What his highness wants tonight is discretion.  There might be promotion for a man who’d say nothing about this night’s work.  If, on top of that, he was soldier enough to keep his men from talking he’d be reported favorably to his highness by Tom Tripe.  Who got you made risaldar, eh?  Who stood up for you, when you were charged with striking Gullam Singh?  Was Tom Tripe’s friendship worth having then?  Now suit yourself!  I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

The Rajput muttered something in his beard, stared again at the letter as if that of itself would justify him, looked sharply at Tess, whose hamper might or might not be corroborative evidence, folded the letter away in his tunic pocket, and made a gesture of assent.

“Now, lady, hurry!” said Tom.  “And here’s hoping you’re right about there being no hell!  I’ve told lies enough tonight to damn my soul forever!  Once you’re safely through the gate I’ll have a word or two more with the guard, and then your husband and I will go to a place close by that I know of and wait for you.”

But Tess objected to that.  “Please don’t leave me waiting for you in the dark outside the gate when I return!  Why not keep the carriage here; my husband won’t mind.”

“Might make talk, ma’am.  I’ll leave Trotters here to watch for you.  He’ll bring word in less than a minute.”

Tom Tripe dismounted to help her out of the dog-cart.  The Rajput struck the iron gate as if he expected to have to wake the dead and take an hour about it.  But it opened suspiciously quickly and a bearded Afridi, of all unlikely people, thrust an expectant face outward, rather like a tortoise emerging from its shell, blinking as he tried to recognize the shadowy forms that moved in the confusing lamplight.  He seemed to know whom to expect and admit, for he beckoned Tess with a long crooked forefinger the moment she approached the gate, and in another ten seconds the iron clanged behind her, shutting her off from husband and all present hope of succor.  The chance of any rescuer entering the palace that night, whether by force or subtlety, was infinitesimal.