"The palace is not yet in flames; they loot still." "What if it be not true ?" "Will Jaimihr not be glad ?" "Glad to see me, the bearer of false news, impaled--or crushed beneath an elephant--ay--glad, indeed." "The reward, were the Jaimihr-sahib warned in time, would be a great one." "Then, why waitest thou not to have word with him.

Art thou above rewards ?" "Have no fear! He will know in good time who it was brought thee the news." They argued for ten minutes, Joanna threatening and coaxing and promising rewards, until at last the man consented.

It was the thought, thoroughly encouraged by Joanna, that the penalty for not speaking would be greater than the beating he might get for bearing evil news that at last convinced him; and it was not until she had won him over and assured herself that he would not fail that it dawned on Joanna just what an edged tool she was playing with.

While getting rid of Jaimihr, she was endangering the liberty and life of Alwa--the one man able to do anything for the McCleans! That thought sent her scooting over housetops, diving down dark alleyways, racing, dodging, hiding, dashing on again, and brought her in the nick of time to a ditch, from whose shelter she sprang and seized the hand of Ali Partab.

That incident, and her intimation that the missionaries were in Howrah's palace, took Alwa back up the black, blind side street; and before he emerged from it he saw Jaimihr and his ten go thundering past, their eyes on the sky-line for a hint of conflagration, and their horses--belly-to-the-earth--racing as only fear, or enthusiasm, or grim desperation in their riders' minds can make them race.
A little later, in groups and scattered fours, and one by one, his heavy-breathing troopers followed, cursing the order that had sent them abroad with-out their horses, damning--as none but a dismounted cavalryman can damn--the earth's unevenness, their swords, their luck, their priests, the night, their boots, and Jaimihr.