crowded way, Hunsa saw Bootea, coming from the opposite direction,
suddenly stop, and her eyes go wide as they were fixed on the face of
the tall Patan.

"It is the accursed Sahib," Hunsa snarled between his grinding teeth.
He brooded over the advent of the messenger and racked his animal brain
for some scheme to accomplish his mission of murder, and counteract the
other's influence. And presently a bit of rare deviltry crept into his
mind, joint partner with the murder thought. If he could but kill the
Chief and have the blame of it cast upon the Sahib, who, no doubt,
would have his interviews with Amir Khan alone.

During the time Hunsa had been there, several times in the palace,
somewhat of a privileged character, known to be connected with the
Gulab, he had familiarised himself with the plan of the marble
building: the stairways that ran down to the central court; the many
passages; the marble fret-work screen niches and mysterious chambers.

Either Hunsa or Sookdee was now always trailing Barlow--his every move
was known. And then, as if some evil genii had taken a spirit hand in
the guidance of events, Hunsa's chance came. Barlow, who had tried
three times to see Amir Khan, one day received a message at the gate
that he was to come back that evening, when the Chief, having said his
prayers, would give him a private audience.

Hunsa had seen Barlow making his way from the _serai_ where he camped
with his horse toward the palace, and hurrying with the swift celerity
of a jungle creature, he reached the gate first. His head wrapped in
the folds of a turban so that his ugly face was all but hidden, he was
talking to the guard when Barlow gave the latter his yellow slip of