"My lord," replied the man on duty, "the Sahib Zadah is not here, but there is a boy who says he knows of him." "Was it well, Yousuf, to turn him away?" asked Afzool Khan. "Suppose my son had had need of us." "Nay; but my lord slept, and the Sahib Zadah was safe. Bulwunt Rao only is wounded--and there were no women to send--and I did but tell him to wait," stammered the man. "No matter--where is the boy? Open the wicket," said Afzool Khan impatiently. "He does not consider who may be behind it," said the soldier, as he unfastened the ponderous iron bars and unlocked the padlock of the wickets, "and that this may be but a device to attack the gate. But he will always be headstrong." "I am here, Khódawund," said the lad, from without, and squeezing himself through the opening between the wicket-door and the chain which fastened it. "Behold I am now before you, valiant sir," he said to the sentinel, "whom you took to be a thief; but I would have speech of the noble Afzool Khan himself, if it be possible to have him aroused." "I am he," returned the old Khan, stepping forward. "Speak on, if what there is to be told may be said before these men;" for several had now arisen, saluted their master, and were standing by him. The boy touched the old Khan's feet reverently. "Fear not, noble sir," he said hastily, "for the Sahib Zadah is safe. He met with no hurt, though he was in danger." "Ul-humd-ul-illa!--Praise be to God," broke from the old man fervently, and was heartily re-echoed by all around; for men were arriving every moment from the different portions of the court, and crowding round to hear the news. "Ul-humd-ul-illa! O holy Geesoo Duraz!"[9] he continued, looking up, "I vow fatehas to thy tomb, and a new covering shall it have of the costliest cloth-of-gold. But go on, boy, and fear not. Is there aught for my private ear?" "Nothing, my lord--nothing. There was a fray, and Meah Sahib's attendant or friend was badly wounded. I want a palankeen for him; that is all." "And my son--why did he not come with thee? And who art thou?" asked the Khan. "They call me Ashruf, and I am the son of Peer Mahomed Duffadar, and Meah Sahib could not come, because," added the lad, dropping his head, "he was my father's prisoner--and----" "By the Prophet, but this is too much!" exclaimed the fiery old Khan. "Who art thou, knave, that dares to say the son of Afzool Khan is a prisoner to any one?"