"If Bob gets wind of this, I shall be chaffed to death!" he said to himself, and then realised that the Rajah was waiting for a reply from him. "I appreciate deeply this proof of your Highness's confidence, and trust I may show myself worthy of it," he said formally, and Partab Singh linked his arm in his and drew him along. They went through the tower, across the courtyard, and up the steps into the hall of audience, passing thence through rooms and corridors till they reached a barred gate, guarded by soldiers, whose weapons clashed angrily as they perceived Gerrard. The Rajah made a sign, never loosing his hold on the young man's arm for a moment, and the gates were opened from within by zenana attendants, the guards standing rigidly with their backs to them. Inside, Gerrard knew enough of the etiquette of the occasion to walk with his eyes cast down, and obey every motion of the Rajah's arm, but he was aware that the darkness seemed to be full of eyes, and the silence of whispers. They came to a standstill at last before a pillared colonnade, with a crimson curtain hanging behind the pillars. No light came from behind the curtain, and Gerrard realised suddenly that he distinguished its colour by means of a light behind him. At a word from the Rajah, two old women came forward with flaring lamps, and stationed themselves one on each side of Gerrard, so as to throw his face into the clearest possible relief. Then Partab Singh spoke. "Let the mother of Kharrak Singh look well upon this Sahib, that she may know whom to trust. I have given him freedom of entrance here, that he may speak with her through the curtain, and she may take counsel with him for the welfare of her son." There was a moment's pause, and then a muffled voice made an inaudible reply from somewhere behind the curtain, apparently close to the ground. The Rajah turned to Gerrard. "The mother of Kharrak Singh clasps the feet of Jirad Sahib, and entreats that in the evil day his virtue may be a high tower in which she and her son can take refuge." Gerrard sought vainly for a suitably self-deprecatory reply, but the Rajah was equal to the occasion, and rendered his disjointed murmurs into a polite desire that he might serve as a sturdy elephant to carry the Rani and her son over a flooded river. The voice spoke again, and Partab Singh turned to Gerrard. "Is my friend yet wedded?" Gerrard shook his head. "Then the mother of Kharrak Singh desires to be informed when he brings home a wife, that she may send the bride her clothes and jewels."