me the tent of thy hospitality. We have eaten salt and bread together. Thus I shall tell thee!”
“What?”
“About Aziza Nurmahal. She heard of thy one-time boast, that thou wouldst make her a captive to thy bow and spear and marry her, with or against her will. And she said to a slave who is a friend of a dancing girl whom I know well—alas! too well!”—he sighed—“she said that she loves a bold man, a careless man, a free man who takes by force what his passion and love desires. And—thou …” He slurred, stopped, and went on; “If I were thou, I would cut the saheb's throat. But then I am an impulsive man, a man who plunges into the pool of life negligent of its black, frowning depths, a foolish man who always plays the game of his undoing—and not, as thou art, a wise man, a careful counter of gold and silver and other loot!”
And, late that night, he sent a trusted slave up the Darb-i-Sultani, who arrived at the palace of Tamerlanistan three days later, with the metaphorical message to Al Nakia:
“Koom Khan sends many salaams. Too, he sends word that the iron has entered the buffalo's soul. Presently the buffalo will turn and gore to the death the lean saheb who looks like a lance at rest.”
“Good!” cried Gulabian, after Hector had told him the message.
“Good!” croaked the old nurse.
“Good indeed!” echoed Aziza Nurmahal.
But Hector shook his head. It was the latter part
