"Who have you there, Manners?" Major Warrener asked.

"Two of the rascally Third Cavalry, who mutinied at Meerut. This fellow,
as you see, is a native officer; there were two of them and two sowars,
but they showed fight when we surrounded them, and tried to ride through
us, so we had to shoot two of them. They are bearers of a letter from the
Delhi prince to the rajah. Here it is."

Major Warrener looked sternly at the prisoners, who were still wearing
their British uniform, and then ordered them to be taken away and hung at
once.

"What did you do with the others, Manners?"

"We hid their bodies under some bushes at a distance from the road."

"You must go back," the major said, "with another; take Larkin with you.
You must strip off the uniforms and bring them here."

Half an hour later Major Warrener summoned the captains of his two troops,
and took them into council.

"Nothing could be more fortunate than this capture," he said; "it seems to
clear the way for us altogether. What I propose to do is this: that two of
the best linguists of the troop, with the two native guides, should dress
in the uniforms of these scoundrels. They can then go boldly in with the
letter from the prince. They will of course be well received, and will
stay for the night. The two who go as officers will be entertained by the
rajah, and will learn the plan of the state apartments; the other two will
be made welcome by the retainers. When all is quiet at night they must