For the vengeance of Prasad he did not fear. His arm was as strong as that of his rival. But he dreaded the form of retribution usually visited at Native courts by a powerful enraged woman. He conjectured that the Rani's resentment would not be displayed in a burst of anger, a dagger thrust openly at his breast; but in one of those covert ways, by which such offenders as himself were disposed of, to terrorize the stoutest heart. He might be invited to an entertainment that led to the dungeon of a fortress, there to die of cholera, so it would be affirmed. Obnoxious people often disappeared without an explanation. The blank of that unknown was fraught with the suggestion of torture, and a lingering death by slow poison. As Ahmad glanced uneasily round the hall, every shadow seemed to warn him of impending danger. The palace was no safe place for him if the Rani and Prasad were together. He had better, indeed, gain the outside of the walls of Gwalior until he had made up his mind what course to adopt. He rose to carry this idea into immediate effect. "What, art thou going"? his neighbor asked in a tone of friendly rebuke. "Thou, who art ever the first in war and the last to leave a banquet." "To-morrow is a fast," Ahmad tersely rejoined. "I would be early at my devotions." His neighbor laughed banteringly. "Your devotions"! he exclaimed. "Ah, to be sure, and to a fair deity, I doubt not. It is ever the way with you Mohammedans. Your Prophet takes good care that his followers are provided with _houris_ on earth as well as in heaven. But good luck to you. May she speedily reward your prayers." "The fool," muttered Ahmad, as he passed from the hall by the nearest exit. "A very yielding deity is the one I have in mind." With caution he made his way through dark passages and courts out from the palace. He strode rapidly into the narrow, squalid bazaars of Gwalior, directing his steps toward one of the city gates, heedless of the rejoicings of the people among whom he passed. He breathed the night air more freely when he had left the walls behind. At the camp, which was his first destination, he found the soldiers drinking in celebration of the victory, and disposed to be quarrelsome. He approached his own quarters and sternly ordered a few men, upon whose temporary fidelity he could depend, to saddle their horses. Curses and blows soon brought them to their senses and obedience. In his tent, Ahmad quickly sorted and placed in security about his person, the lighter and more valuable of Sindhia's jewels that had fallen to his share. Then he came forth, mounted his horse, and led the way to a dwelling situated a few miles out from the city. It was a house he had visited on a previous residence in Gwalior, secluded, and within easy reach of the hills in case of the necessity of flight. It was owned by a member of his religion, who received him with every outward sign of friendship.