“Put down that coal!” he pleaded.  “I have done thy bidding!”

“Watch through the window!” said the Risaldar.  “Then follow!”

His giant half-brother peered from behind the curtain and listened.  He could hear laughter, ribald, mocking laughter, but low, and plainly not intended for the High Priest’s ears.

“They go!” he growled.

“Then follow.”

Once again the Risaldar was left alone with the priest and the unconscious Ruth.  She was suffering from the effects of long days and nights of nerve-destroying heat, with the shock of unexpected horror super-added, and she showed no disposition to recover consciousness.  The priest, though, was very far from having lost his power to think.

“You are a fool!” he sneered at the Risaldar, but the sword leaped from its scabbard at the word and he changed that line of argument.  “You hold cards and know not how to play them!”

“I know along which road my honor lies!  I lay no plans to murder people in their sleep.”

“Honor!  And what is honor?  What is the interest on honor—­how much percent?”

The Risaldar turned his back on him, but the High Priest laughed.

“`The days of the Raj are numbered!” said the priest.  “The English will be slain to the last man and then where will you be?  Where will be the profit on your honor?”

The Risaldar listened, for he could not help it, but he made no answer.

“Me you hold here, a prisoner.  You can slay or torture.  But what good will that do?  The woman that you guard will fall sooner or later into Hindu hands.  You can not fight against a legion.  Listen!  I hold the strings of wealth.  With a jerk I can unloose a fortune in your lap.  I need that woman there!”

“For what?” snarled the Risaldar, whirling round on him, his eyes ablaze.

“’For power!  Kharvani’s temple here has images and paintings and a voice that speaks—­but no Kharvani!”

The Rajput turned away again and affected unconcern.

“Could Kharvani but appear, could her worshipers but see Kharvani manifest, what would a lakh, two lakhs, a crore of rupees mean to me, the High Priest of her temple?  I could give thee anything!  The power over all India would be in my hands!  Kharvani would but appear and say thus and thus, and thus would it be done!”

The Risaldar’s hand had risen to his mustache.  His back was still turned on the priest, but he showed interest.  His eyes wandered to where Ruth lay in a heap by the inner door and then away again.

“Who would believe it?” he growled in an undertone.

“They would all believe it!  One and all!  Even Mohammedans would become Hindus to worship at her shrine and beg her favors.  Thou and I alone would share the secret.  Listen!  Loose me these bonds—­ my limbs ache.”

Mahommed Khan turned.  He stooped and cut them with his sword.