"To death, to death!" exclaimed Afzool Khan. "Who dare harm you? Ho! Alla-ool-Moolks, Bhylmees, Dâgtorays, all true men present,--rally round the King," shouted the Khan. "Deen, deen!" and his familiar battle-cry, "Futteh-i-Nubbee!" (Victory to the Prophet) rang high above the hoarse murmur which had arisen among the assembly. Now, however, those mentioned by the Khan sprang to their feet by scores, and their example was followed by hundreds. "Deen, Deen!" was shouted with increased enthusiasm. "Here is one who brings particulars," said the Secretary, as an officer was led in, who prostrated himself before the King. "My lord, the Wuzeer is dead," said the man, sobbing bitterly. "They murdered him at the gate. Those who did it went off across the plain, but they were men who had ridden with him. I was upon the bastion over the gate with a few others, and we saw them come rapidly along the road from Allapoor. I knew my lord's piebald horse, and his elephant was following at a little distance. We watched him till he was near the gate; there were only a few of us. There was no one present but a sentinel and one or two others, and a Kullunder Fakeer had spread his carpet just within the walls, and was crying, 'Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!' as passengers threw their cowrees to him. We were descending the steps to present our nuzzurs, when several of the men behind dragged the Wuzeer from his horse, and others on foot, who had been running with him, killed him with a hundred wounds ere he could cry out. What could we do, my lord? Ere we could mount the bastion again the whole had dispersed. We fired on them, but it was no use." "And what became of the Fakeer?" asked the King, looking towards the Secretary. "My prince, he stayed with the body, and shut the eyes," replied the man. "Then, as the Wuzeer's elephant arrived, he told the driver to take up the dead, and we saw him go towards the mosque, crying, as before, 'Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!' Hark!" he continued, "there he is." "Ulla dilâyâ to léonga! Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" The cry came nearer and nearer, never changing or faltering in its cadence or time--heard above all other noises and confusion within and without--"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!"--up the steps, along the great corridor, into the hall, where every one made way before the brawny form and excited looks of the crier--who paused not, nor yet looked right or left, till he reached the dais. Afzool Khan and Fazil would have stopped him, but he strode on.