Nejdi had seldom been groomed so vigorously as during the passing of these detachments, but no one gave the slightest heed to the cavalry officer who was engaged on such an unusual task. If they noticed him at all it was to wonder that he could be such a fool as to work when there were hundreds of loafers in the city who could be kicked to the job. The rain storm changed into a steady drizzle and the increasing gloom promised complete darkness within half an hour. Malcolm was beginning to plan his movements when he became aware of a man wrapped in a heavy cloak who approached from the direction of the arcade and peered into every nook and cranny. "Now," thought Frank, "comes my first real difficulty. That man is searching for some one. Whether or not he seeks me he is sure to speak, and if my presence has been reported he will recognize both Nejdi and me instantly. If so, I must strangle him with as little ceremony as possible." The newcomer came on. In the half light it was easy to see that he was not a soldier but a court official. Indeed, before the searcher's glance rested on the gray Arab, munching contentedly in his stall, or the tall sowar who stood in obscurity near his head, Frank felt almost sure that he was face to face with the trusted confidant who had carried out Roshinara Begum's behests in the garden at Bithoor. That fact saved the native's life. The Englishman would have killed him without compunction were it not for the belief that the man was actually looking for him and for none other, and with friendly intent, too, else he would have brought a bodyguard. Sure enough, the stranger's first words were of good import. He could not see clearly into the dark stable and it was necessary to measure one's utterances in Delhi just then. "If you are one who rode into Delhi this morning I would have speech with you," he muttered softly. "Say on," said Malcolm, gripping his sword. "Nay, one does not give the Princess Roshinara's instructions without knowing that they reach the ears they are meant for." The Englishman came out from the obscurity. He approached so quickly that the native started back, being far from prepared for Frank's very convincing resemblance to a rissaldar of cavalry. "I look for one--" he began, but Frank had no mind to lose time. "For Malcolm-sahib?" he demanded. "It might be some such name," was the hesitating answer. "I am he. I saw thee last at Bithoor, when I escaped with Mayne-sahib and the missy-baba."[23] [Footnote 23: The familiar native title for a European young lady.] "By Mohammed! I would not have known you, sahib, though now I remember your face. Come with me, and quickly. Each moment here means danger." "Ay, for thee. I am not one to be tricked so easily."