They walked to the gate in a little close-packed group, and found the
gateman stuttering through the small square hole provided for interviews
with strangers, telling the maharajah for the third or fourth time that the
princess herself was coming. Gungadhura's voice was plainly audible,
growling threats from the outer darkness.

"Stand aside!" Yasmini ordered. "I will attend to the talking now."

She went close to the square hole, but was careful to keep her face in
shadow at the left-hand side of it.

"What can His Highness, Gungadhura Singh, want with his relative at
this strange hour?" she asked.

"Open the gate!" came the answer. He was very close to it--ready to
push with his shoulder the instant the bolt was drawn, for black passion
had him in hand. But in the darkness he was as invisible as she was.

"Nay, how shall I know it is Gungadhura Singh?"

"Ask the guard! Ho, there! Tell her who it is demands admission!"

"Nay, they might lie to me! The voice sounds strange. I would open
for Gungadhura Singh; but I must be sure it is he and no other."

"Look then!" he answered, and thrust his dark face close to the opening.

Even the utterly base have intuition. Nothing else warned him. In the
very nick of time he stepped back, and Yasmini's long dagger that shot