"There are tents at the service of the great one who has arrived. Is it an order that she be conducted thither?"
"No!" cried the woman fiercely, dashing the veil from her face. "Henceforth the mother of Partab Singh Rajah's son is no longer _pardah_, but lives for vengeance the few hours that remain to her. Avenge me, O Jirad Sahib! avenge me, O soldiers of Partab Singh! avenge me on the man who has left me childless, the slayer of his brother!"
"But when was this? What has happened?" gasped Gerrard.
"Two days ago at this time. I waited only to burn the body of my son, and hastened hither for my vengeance."
"But it is impossible, Maharaj. Kunwar Sher Singh has been ill in bed since he arrived here."
"Has he?" The Rani's laugh rang out shrill and terrible. "It is easy to deceive some men. Let Jirad Sahib send now for Sher Singh, and see if he comes."
Gerrard turned hastily, to find himself confronted by the fakir and two or three of Sher Singh's servants, waiting with downcast eyes. "Why are you here?" he demanded of them.
"Sahib, we bear a message from our lord, who desired to know what fortune your honours enjoyed to-day in hunting. Seeing you return so early, he feared the sport had been poor."
"Go instantly, and bid the Prince return hither with you," said Gerrard brusquely.
"But your honour knows he is laid upon his bed, and cannot rise."
"Then bring him on his bed. His life depends upon it. If he is not here in half an hour, I will blow in the gates and come and fetch him myself."
"It is an order!" said Sher Singh's servants in chorus, and withdrew. Gerrard turned back to the Rani.
"Your Highness has proof of what you say?"
"This much of proof. Two days ago Sarfaraz Khan--may an evil ghost haunt him from henceforth!--came to me with a tale that the guards were discontented by reason of the favour shown to the rest of the army. I promised to do what I could, and went into the room where my jewels are kept, to see if I had anything left that might satisfy them. Kneeling before a coffer, I heard my son shriek without, but when I ran to see what ailed him, certain of my women--daughters of shame, whose end is even as they deserved--pushed me back into the room, and held the door against me. I heard my son fleeing and calling to me for succour, and the clash of the weapons of those that pursued him in silence. I heard him cry, 'O brother, slay me not!' and I heard his moans as they struck. And though I tore at the door until my hands ran down with blood, I could not move it, until the murderers were safely departed. Then the door yielded suddenly, and I came out, to find my son lying dead in his blood. I called my own servants and swore them to vengeance, dipping in the blood their swords and this cloth of mine, which I will wear until the innocent blood is washed out in the blood of him that shed it, and first I bade them slay the women that had befooled me and held me back from dying with my son. Then I gave orders for the burning of my son's body, for fear the murderers should be minded to add insult to their crime, and I called together the Durbar and the heads of the army, and bade them search the city for Sher Singh, and offer a reward for him, dead or alive. But they refused, and mocked me, saying that Sher Singh was now Rajah, and their obedience was his. Then I reviled them to their faces--speaking unveiled, as one minded to mount the pyre and be consumed with the body of my son, could I but be assured of vengeance--and called upon those who remained faithful to follow me. This man Rukn-ud-din and these few sowars were all that came, and when we had burnt the body of my son, we took up his ashes and departed--many desiring to stop us, but no man caring to strike the first blow--to ride hither and demand justice on Sher Singh. And this, O Jirad Sahib, was Kharrak Singh, my son."