Go thou!" The captain of the guard obeyed.

Two minutes later Ali Partab stood before Alwa and saluted.
"Sahib, my master's thanks!" "They are accepted," answered Alwa, with almost regal dignity.

"Bring a lamp!" he ordered.
One of the guard brought a hand-lantern, and by its light Alwa examined Ali Partab closely.

He was filthy, and his clothing reeked of the disgusting confinement he had endured.
"Give this man clothing fit for a man of mine!" commanded Alwa.
"Sahib, there is none; perhaps the Jaimihr-sahib--" "I have ordered!" There was a movement among Alwa's men--a concerted, horse-length-forward movement, made terrifying by the darkness--each man knew well enough that the men they were bullying could fight; success, should they have to force it at the sword-point, would depend largely on which side took the other by surprise.
"It is done, sahib," said the leader of the guard, and one man hurried off to execute the order.

Ten minutes later--they were ten impatient minutes, during which the horses sensed the fever of anxiety and could be hardly made to stand--Ali Partab stood arrayed in clean, new khaki that fitted him reasonably well.
"A sword, now!" demanded Alwa.