HOW TIME MOVES Meantime Lal Singh was hurrying on a racing camel toward the railway, toward Simla, more than a thousand miles away.

He was happy.

Here was the long delayed opportunity for the hand of the British Raj: a captive white woman.

What better excuse was needed?
There would be armed Sikhs and Gurhas and Tommies near Rawal Pindi.

Ai! how time moved, how fate twisted! How the finest built castle in schemes came clattering down! At the very moment when he had secretly worked upon the king to throw himself into the protecting arms of the British Raj--assassinated! The council?
Umballa?
Some outsider, made mad by oppression?
The egg of Brahma was strangely hatched--this curious old world! Ahmed remained hidden in the bazaars, to await the ordeals.