In these strong rooms the princes of Delhi, who had once owned the house, had kept their valuables, and on occasion their prisoners. They were now empty. The khansaman brought the keys. Ahmed was taken down by a narrow staircase like that which led to Dr. Craddock's hiding-place. A door was opened. He was pushed in, Minghal and the servants entered after him. The room was stone-walled, stone-flagged, and bare. There was no window, but a small grating high up in one of the walls; below it was an iron staple. "I know thy wiles," said Minghal. "Thou hast escaped me twice; thrice thou shall not. Bring a chain," he added to the khansaman. "Verily Allah is good," he continued, when the man was gone. "Thou art a Feringhi, and when all the Feringhis are ground between the upper and the nether mill-stone, there will be one among them whom they know not. But that will be when I have had my profit of thee." The chain was brought, and Ahmed was firmly fettered to the staple. "Give me the key, khansaman; I will keep it," said Minghal. "And know, all of you, that if this dog slips his leash, I will not only dismiss you all that moment from my service, but I will even have you flogged very thoroughly, so that you will groan for many days. That is my word; take heed to it." And then they all went out, Minghal turned the key in the door, and Ahmed was left alone. CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND The Fight of Bakr-Id It was Bakr-Id, the great day of Mohammedan sacrifice. Before dawn the maulavis and mullahs were busy with their preparations for the ceremonies of their religion. From early morning the streets were thronged with the faithful; green turbans and green flags were everywhere seen; long-bearded preachers, in the mosques and the bazars, and at the corners of the streets, harangued the people, promising the supreme joys of Paradise for all who should celebrate this great day by wielding the sword against the infidel; and hundreds of fanatics ranged the town, shrieking their battle-cry, "Din! Din!" Even the king's edict that, in deference to the prejudices of the Brahmins and Rajputs who formed a large proportion of the sepoy army, no bulls should be slain on this day, but only goats--even this was but a trifling check upon the enthusiasm; for the Feringhis would be utterly annihilated, and then good Mohammedans could work their will on the Hindus, whom they hated little less. The king held his usual darbar, and then went in solemn procession with his courtiers to the Idgah, where with his own hands he sacrificed a goat. And having distributed new suits of clothing and strings of jewels to the maulavis of the mosque, he returned to the palace, where he employed himself in composing verses for the encouragement of Bakht Khan: