"Kishen Rao?" came Dr. Dillon's voice, after a long series of names, followed by brief "_presents!_" and swift exits. There was no answer. He turned to the _darogah_ for explanation. "Absent!" explained the latter, timorously. A little more decision might have saved him the quick question, "With or without leave?" "_Huzoor_" palpitated the fat man, "he went out to bathe in the Holy Pool by permission this morning. He is of the utmost sobriety. A Brahmin, promoted by your Honour to, as your Honour knows, general head ward-keeper. He is not to be suspected." "Leave till 5 P.M.," commented the doctor, looking over the register. "Mark him down absent without leave. Go on." So, rapidly, the last man ducked under the wicket. "Is that the lot?" "Everyone, Protector of the Poor," protested the burly official, with smiles. "The prison is empty of the unfettered." "Then let it remain so for the present," said Dr. Dillon, coolly, as he stepped forward, closed the wicket, slid the bolt to its place, and turned on the _darogah_, all in one swift sequence. "Now, then!" he went on sharply, "you and I have to settle a bit of business. Your keys--" he took out a revolver, and laid it on the table beside him--"every key you have; duplicates, triplicates, everything! I'm going to keep this gaol myself for a bit. Do you understand?" "_Huzoor!_" bleated the man, helplessly, putting his big bunch on the table. Dr. Dillon smiled sarcastically. "Won't do, my friend. I want the lot by the list. Where's the register?" When it came he ticked them off rapidly by it. "Sections B and C, warder's duplicate; where's that?" he asked. The official grew green. "Kishen Rao--" he began--"but he is of the utmost--" Dr. Dillon turned on him like lightning. "You're a damned scoundrel, sir! What else is missing?" He ran over the rest swiftly, then looked up suddenly with a scowl that made the man literally collapse. "So that's it, is it? Duplicate of B and C sections missing, and duplicate of the alley doors. A pretty little game!" he laughed sardonically. "Kishen Rao--" gurgled the _darogah_--"by your Honour's promotion--of the utmost--" "But it won't play, my friend; it won't play!" went on the doctor, with a curious elation. "I hold the thirteenth trump, now. You go in there,"--he pointed to an inner store-room behind the slip of an office; a windowless place, pitch dark, where the clothes in which the prisoners arrived awaited their release in piles--"and thank your stars you're in such good quarters." All but that brief order, "You go in there," was spoken in English, as a sort of outlet for the intense satisfaction which was filling him at his own success,--_so far_. The next minute he had turned the key on the _darogah_, and was up the stairs calling Eugene Smith in a low voice to come down and help to bolt and bar; but to come as quietly as he could.