A few frightened night-wanderers ran at sight of them, hiding down side streets, but when they brought up at last outside Jaimihr's palace-gate they had so far escaped recognition.

And that meant that no one would carry word to Jaimihr or his men.
It was death-dark outside the bronze-hinged double gate; only a dim lamp hung above from chains, to show how dark it was, and the moon--cut off by trees and houses on a bluff of rising ground--lent nothing to the gloom.
"Open! The jaimihr-sahib comes!" shouted Alwa and one of his horsemen legged up close beside the gate.
Some one moved inside, for his footsteps could be heard; whoever he was appeared to listen cautiously.
"Open for the Jaimihr-sahib!" repeated Alwa.
Evidently that was not the usual command, or otherwise the gates would have swung open on the instant.

Instead, one gate moved inward by a fraction of a foot, and a pureed head peered cautiously between the gap.
That, though, was sufficient.

With a laugh, the man up closest drove his sword-hilt straight between the Hindoo's eyes, driving his horse's shoulder up against the gate; three others spurred and shoved beside him.

Not thirty seconds later Alwa and his nine were striking hoof sparks on the stone of Jaimihr's courtyard, and the gates--that could have easily withstood a hundred-man assault with battering-rams--had clanged behind them, bolted tight against their owner.
"Where is the bear cage ?" demanded Alwa.