"What man is a prisoner, and how do you know it ?" Before McClean had time to answer him, a spear haft rang on the great teak double door.

There was a pause, and the clang repeated--another pause--a third reverberating, humming metal notice of an interruption, and the doors swung wide.

A Hindoo, salaaming low so that the expression of his face could not be seen, called out down the long length of the hall.
"The Alwa-sahib waits, demanding audience!" There was no change apparent on Howrah's face.

His fingers tightened on the jewelled cimeter that protruded, silk-sashed, from his middle, but neither voice nor eyes nor lips betrayed the least emotion.

It was the McCleans whose eyes blazed with a new-born hope, that was destined to be dashed a second later.
"Has he guards with him ?" "But ten, Maharajah-sahib." "Then remove these people to the place where they were, and afterward admit him--without his guards!" "I demand permission to speak with this Alwa-sahib!" said McClean.
"Remove them!" Two spear-armed custodians of the door advanced.