“Inflated fool!” muttered the Rajah, when his guest had gone. “Loyalty and devotion forsooth! Umph! bitterness and hatred methinks.” “The brow of your Highness is clouded,” said Azimoolah fawningly, as he closed the portfolio and came forward. “Clouded?” laughed the Nana; “no, no, Azi, clouds sit not there. It is joy. Joy, my faithful. Ah, ah, ah, ah! Clouds, indeed! By our sacred writings, I should be unworthy of my sire if I allowed a cloud to darken the joy I feel. Ah, ah, ah! the confidence of these English is amazing. They think they can put their heads into the lion’s jaw with impunity. Well, well, let them do it. The lion knows when to close his jaws at the right moment.” “Say rather, your Highness, that the tiger, having scented quarry, knows how to track it to the death with downy tread, and spring as light as air.” “Aptly said, Azi, and so it shall be. They shall say I _am_ the tiger before I’ve done. Come,” linking his arm in Azimoolah’s, “let us walk in the grounds. Order the dance for to-night, and let there be a display of fireworks. By the beard of Mahomet, we will make merry. ‘With downy tread, and spring as light as air.’ Ah, ah, ah! So it shall be.” The mechanical birds were warbling sweetly, and unseen censers were making the air balmy with delicious perfume, the silken curtains rustled pleasantly, the falling water plashed musically. There was peace and beauty around, above, below; but in the hearts of these two men, as they went out, laughing sardonically, there was the deadly poison of human hatred, and no shadow of the Great White Hand disturbed them in the hour of their supposed triumph. Indeed the Nana believed that the power of the British in India was fast waning, never to be restored. FOOTNOTES: [3] Nana Sahib was first referred to as “The Tiger of Cawnpore” by the _Times_. [4] This is no exaggerated description. The room was exactly as described. CHAPTER XV. AS ARMOUR IMPENETRABLE. At the end of a block of buildings attached to the Rajah of Bhitoor’s Palace was a lofty, square tower, rising to the height of sixty feet, and crowned with a gilded cupola. It was a massive stone structure, and contained many apartments, used as the lodgings of the Nana’s retainers. From the basement to the roof there straggled, in wild profusion, a tough rope-like Indian parasite, a species of ivy, with reddish leaves. The beauty of the whole building was materially enhanced by this plat, that insinuated itself into every crevice, and twined gracefully round every angle. It was a conspicuous mark in the landscape, was this ivy-covered tower. It asserted its presence over all other erections; it rose up with a sort of braggadocio air, like unto a tall bully, and as if it said, “I am here. Who is as great as I?” It had been witness to many a strange scene. If its time-stained stones could have spoken, many and curious would have been the tales they would have had to tell.