Better to accept the roll of the dice as they lay, that he
had lost, and die as an Afghan rather than as an Englishman, a spy who
had killed their Chief.
"Speak, Patan," Kassim commanded; "thou dwellest overlong upon some
lie."
"There was a mission," Barlow answered; "it was from my own people, the
people of Sind."
"Of Sindhia?"
"No; from the land of Sind, Afghanistan. We ride not with the
Mahrattas; they are infidels, while we be followers of the true
Prophet."
"Thou art a fair speaker, Afghan. And was there a sealed message?"
"There was, Commander Sahib."
"Where is it now?"
"I know not. It was left with Amir Khan."
There was a hush of three seconds. Then Kassim, whose eye had searched
the room, saw the iron box. "This has a bearing upon matters," he
declared; "this affair of a written message. Open the box and see if
it is within," he commanded a Pindari.
"How now, woman," for the Gulab had stepped forward; "what dost thou
here--ah! there was talk of a message from the Chief. It might be, it
might be, because,"--his leonine face, full whiskered, the face of a
wild rider, a warrior, softened as he looked at the slight
figure,--"our noble Chief had spoken soft words of thee, and passed the
order that thou wert Begum, that whatsoever thou desired was to be.
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