This he entered, and stood with folded arms near the door.
"Ah, Colonel Sahib!" "Umballa ?" Colonel Hare, bearded, unkempt, tried to stand erect and face his enemy.

"You black scoundrel!" "Durga Ram, Sahib.

Words, words; the patter of rain on stone roofs.
Our king lives no more, alas!" "You lie!" "He is dead.

Dying, he left you this throne--you, a white man, knowing it was a legacy of terror and confusion.

You knew.