Churi, indeed, was playing a part very different from the one he had imagined for himself. He had entered upon the affair rather blindly, and with the belief that a few weeks, perhaps days even, would convert his ruby into money; upon which his freedom would quickly follow. A little time had shown him his mistake. The ruby was not a gem easily to be sold; for the simple reason that no one in Mandu save the Rajah himself was wealthy enough to buy it; and Rai-Khizar-Pál knew the stone, and to whom it belonged. Questions were not to be risked. Churi soon realized that he must wait until the spring, when the travelling merchants from Rajputana would come down from the north with the rich wares that made their arduous journeys profitable. One of these, the eunuch knew very well, would take his stone, without questions. Meantime, what was his course to be? It was true that he was genuinely attached to Ahalya, and had some feeling for Fidá. Moreover, his natural talent for intrigue rejoiced at the risk of the present affair. Nevertheless, that risk, as matters stood at present, was too great. Soon, then, he found his mind at work reconstructing, building up new safeguards against that bombshell which, one day, no caution could keep from an explosion that must betray its existence to Mandu in ruin and destruction. Churi, evil-thinking, evil-doing, was nevertheless faithful to his better instincts. It was not for his own gain that he set his mind to work at new plans of entrance to the zenana; and at finding therefrom new exits, to be used in case of need. These plans materialized well; and, by the bedside of the now almost recovered Ahmed, he expounded his ideas to Fidá. The Asra was already aware that the zenana was accessible by other ways than the central portion of the palace. The passage from the north wing to the little court was left unguarded for the simple reason that, by day, no one could enter there without risk of being seen by half a hundred eyes; and by night the face of the zenana itself was made, by means of chains and locks, a perfectly impenetrable wall, by which the high Lord Ragunáth himself had more than once been baffled. For Fidá, however, this difficulty did not exist. On the other side of that wall there were willing hands to work for him; for Churi himself had the task of fastening doors and wooden window-screens at nightfall. Who was there to discover that one of these, in the inner room of the Ranee Ahalya, was left unlocked? Who was there to note the tiny hinge which deft-handed Churi substituted for a bolt? Rai-Khizar-Pál never perceived these things; and, beside him, Neila was the only soul that entered the Ranee’s bedroom. Shortly, then, Fidá had ceased to be dependent on the antechamber for access to his lady; and he and Churi both wondered how so obvious a means had slipped their first consideration. But passion soon began to get the better of the Arabian. His gracelessness no longer stopped with the night.