That night, under cover of the darkness, he sought out the house of the Maulavi Fazl Hak, who, while in high favour with the king, was secretly in the confidence of Rajab Ali Khan, the organizer of Hodson's spies. It was to him that Ahmed was to make his reports, and by him that the means of conveying his information to the British lines would be arranged. He was admitted to the presence of the maulavi, a man of dignified aspect, with eyes of particular brilliance. Fazl Hak was convinced from the first that the cause of the mutineers was hopeless, and advised the king many times during the siege to make his peace with the sahibs before it was too late. "I am Ahmed Khan," said the visitor, after salutations had been exchanged, "and I bring greeting from the Maulavi Rajab Ali." "Yes. You came in yesterday by the Ajmir gate." "True," said Ahmed, somewhat surprised. "And you took up your abode in the serai of Gopal Ali by the Moti Bazar." "It is so," said Ahmed, wondering more and more. "And you have sold goods to officers of the regiments of the Prince Mirza Mogul and Minghal Khan." "All this is true," said Ahmed, feeling strangely uncomfortable; "and yet I know not how it reached your ears." "That is no matter. It is my business to know things. And now, what can I do for you?" "I would send a message to Hodson Sahib." "Well, I have been asked to assist an Afghan trader named Ahmed Khan. That was Rajab Ali's word. I will do all I can. Say on. What is the message?" "I must say it to a munshi, who will write with a pen what I speak with my lips." "I will write. Speak." Then Ahmed began, in the grave and earnest manner of one engaged in an important transaction, to describe what he had seen, and relate what he had heard. For some little while Fazl Hak wrote with the finest of pens, in diminutive characters, on paper so thin that Ahmed marvelled it was not pierced. The maulavi's grave face expressed nothing of what he thought; perhaps one who knew him better might have detected a slight twinkle beneath his veiling eyelids, and the play of his lips behind their curtain of beard. All at once he stopped writing, and looking up at Ahmed, said-- "Does a man cook eggs that are already eaten? This that you say, Ahmed Khan, is a twice-told tale. The oldest of your news went to the English three days ago; the newest, a little ere the gates were shut."