Commander Kassim touched Barlow on the arm: "Captain Sahib, come with
me. The death of that foul murderer does not take the weight off our
hearts."

"He deserved it," Barlow declared.

Though filled with a sense of shuddering horror, he was compelled
involuntarily to admit that it had been a most just punishment; less
brutal, even more impressive--almost taking on the aspect of a
religious execution--than if the Bagree had been tortured to death;
hacked to pieces by the _tulwars_ of the outraged Pindaris. He had
been executed with no evidence of passion in those who witnessed his
death. And as to the subtlety of the Commander in obtaining the
confession, that, too, according to the ethics of Hindustan, was
meritorious, not a thing to be condemned. Hunsa's animal cunning had
been over-matched by the clear intellect of this wise soldier.

"We will walk back to the Chamber of Audience," Kassim said, "for now
there are things to relate."

He spoke to a soldier to have his horse led behind, and as they walked
he explained: "With us, Sahib, as at the death of a Rana of Mewar,
there is no interregnum; the dead wait upon the living, for it is
dangerous that no one leads, even for an hour, men whose guard is their
sword. So, as Amir Khan waits yonder where his body lies to be taken
on his way to the arms of Allah in Paradise, they who have the welfare
of our people at heart have selected one to lead, and one and all, the
jamadars and the hazaris, have decreed that I shall, unworthily, sit
upon the _ghuddi_ (throne) that was Amir Khan's, though with us it is
but the back of a horse. And we have taken under advisement the