“Have they not driven us here?” with a wave of her hand round the courtyard. “Are not my brothers and the Sheikh-ul-Jabal deprived of their just rights?” “And no marriage can be made for her,” put in Maadat Ali sympathetically. “What go-between would come to Sheikhgarh to seek a bride?” “You should persuade your father to settle in Alibad,” said Lady Haigh. “I am not a sweeper girl, to wed with the scum of towns!” cried Wazira Begum. “Isn’t your sister inclined to be a little difficult to please?” asked Lady Haigh of Maadat Ali. “You are Khojas, of course, but we have plenty of Khojas, and even Syads,[1] living in the plains.” “If that were all!” cried the girl contemptuously. “But for a princess of Nalapur, as I am----” “O my sister!” gasped Maadat Ali. “Nay, I have said it, and these unbelievers shall be convinced.” She sprang up and stood before the visitors, drawing herself to her full height. “My father was the Amir Nasr Ali Khan, not the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and my brother Ashraf Ali should now be sitting in his father’s place. But the English took the side of the murderer and usurper, and we are banished to this desert.” “You three are Nasr Ali’s children!” cried Lady Haigh. Then, regret succeeding astonishment, “Why in the world didn’t your father--the Sheikh, I mean--let Major Keeling know this before? He would have had you back at Nalapur long ago.” “These are words!” said Wazira Begum. “My uncle judges the English by their deeds. His own wife and sons and our mother were among the dead in the Killa at Nalapur, and he would not have us murdered also.” “But, dear me! he ought to know Major Keeling by this time,” said Lady Haigh impatiently. “He had no share in the massacre, and has been most anxious to right the injustice ever since it happened. But he thought there was no heir of Nasr Ali left, so he could do nothing.” She stopped, for a curious smile was playing about Wazira Begum’s mouth. “My uncle has found a way of doing something,” she said. “Even now he has taken my brother Ashraf Ali, who was fourteen years old six weeks ago, to show him to the faithful followers of our father’s house, that they may raise an insurrection in his favour in Nalapur.” “Then your uncle has acted very unwisely--to say no more--in not confiding in Major Keeling,” was the warm response. “I suppose he means to reach the capital while the Amir Wilayat Ali is with his army on the frontier? And so he has weakened his garrison, and withdrawn his distant patrols, and allowed Gobind Chand’s army to get past him and threaten Alibad. There must be spies all round you, for it’s clear his movements have been watched--I suppose the men we saw in the mountains were there to keep an eye on him--and he will never be allowed to reach Nalapur. And if he was, it wouldn’t be much good to proclaim your brother Amir if the enemy cut him off both from this place and from Alibad.”