"I examined both corridors, and he was not in either, Huzrut," he said to the holy man, "so I went to Raheem Khan, who tells me he has come with the Khánum;" and here his voice dropped almost to a whisper, "that Afzool Khan hath been at the Kótwal's, at Jehándar Beg's, since morning, and it is particular business, as both he and his son have been in private consultation with him since sunrise." The King had leaned over the rail to hear the detail, but he had not noticed the first part of the message; and as the man receded among the attendants behind, looked from one to the other of his friends, but could gather no consolation from their faces. "It is but too true, my lord," said the Secretary sadly; "we need not expect them; for the Wuzeer's son, with a heavy body of horse and foot, has just gone to the Kótwallee--he was seen with them not long ago passing the fort gate. Jehándar Beg is not come, and it is clear to me that they have garrisoned the Kótwallee, and will defend it till the Wuzeer arrives, when they will declare revolt. Sending a party here is but a blind." "And who are here to check it?" asked the King apprehensively. "Many, my lord," replied the Peer earnestly; "all the Dekhanies are my disciples, and I will answer for them to a man. All the artillery are with them. Fear not." The King looked inquiringly to his Secretary. "Yes, my Prince," he said, "fear not: we cannot wait for them; nothing good ever came of vacillation or expediency. Bismilla! shall I order silence?" "Bismilla-ir-rahman-ir-raheem!" exclaimed the King devoutly, looking up. "I am ready. Order silence," he said to one of the mirdhas. "Khámôsh! silence!" cried the man in a loud, deep voice, which rang through the hall, and sounded strangely, interrupting the loose murmuring chat which had prevailed before--"Khámôsh!" "Khámôsh!" was reiterated by all the mirdhas and chobdars stationed about the hall, and by the attendants behind, and was taken up by those in the corridors, spreading to the crowd without, and to the troops--"Khámôsh!" The silence that ensued was almost oppressive. In the hall itself, after the men had once more settled themselves in their seats, there was not a sound or murmur. The struggles and gibes without ceased, and even the troops were still, save where a neigh, or the rattle of caparisons, as horses tossed their heads or champed their bits, broke the stillness; or an elephant, clashing his bells, and being admonished by his driver, lifted his trunk, and gave a short scream. It was the Secretary's office to open the business of the day, and just as he was about to speak, the chief of the eunuchs entered, bearing the Queen's billet, and kneeling down behind the rail, while he spoke aside, covering his mouth, said to the King hastily-- "It is a matter of life or death. If Afzool Khan hath any favour in your eyes, O King, save him! there may be time."