"He is Jimgrim's friend." There was another Sikh just in sight of him at the next corner, and another beyond him again, all looking rather bored but awfully capable.

None except the first one took the slightest notice of us.
It was some consolation to know that "Jimgrim's friend" was on guard outside Yussuf's.

I had no means of knowing what weapons Grim carried, if any, but was positive of one thing: if either Noureddin Ali or the man with alligator eyes should get an inkling of his real identity his life would not be worth ten minutes' purchase.

Including Yussuf, who would likely do as he was told, there would be three to one between those silent walls, and it seemed to me that Narayan Singh might as well be three miles away as thirty feet.

However, there was nothing I could do about it.
It was late afternoon already, and the crowd was swarming all one way, the women carrying the baskets and the men lording it near enough to keep an eye on them.