Delicately--yes--because there was that about these stately chiefs that seemed to render the subject as difficult of approach as though they were Europeans of social equality. "I know that it is not unusual, Sirdar Sahib, to ransom prisoners of war," she said. "This I am prepared with. Will a lakh of rupees satisfy the Nawab?" "I cannot put that to my father," said Shere Dil Khan. "Is it not enough? Well, name your own price." Her colour came and went, and she spoke eagerly and quickly. "It is not that, but--" "Well, put it, put it!" returned Hilda, unable to restrain an impatient stamp of the foot. "Put it, I entreat you." He looked at her hesitatingly for a moment, then complied. A change came over the features of Mushim Khan as he listened, and his eyes fairly blazed with wrath. "Am I a vile Hindu trader to be approached with such an offer?" he said. "Is the blood of my brother--the ignominy of his death--a mere question of rupees, of a lakh more or less? Tell this woman that all the rupees in the treasury of the _Sirkar_ for a hundred years would not redeem the man whose father put to death with ignominy one of our house. He dies at sunrise to-morrow. As for her, she came alone and trusting to my protection. Praised be Allah, it shall be extended to her, and to her attendant. Let refreshment be given her, and with my safe conduct let her depart." This Shere Dil Khan duly rendered. But Hilda did not move. Great tears rose to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "He must not die, ah--he must not die," she said. "Listen, Sirdar Sahib. Tell the Nawab I offer him all I have in the world, five lakhs of rupees, in redemption of this life. See, I have braved all and every danger, and travelled alone here to save it. He is brave, he must be generous. Oh, make him relent." Animation made all the difference in the world to Hilda Clive's appearance. When she was animated to this extent she was beautiful-- moreover, the Gularzai dress became her well. Shere Dil Khan looked at her with pity and concern. But the faces of the other two remained hard as granite. "I have said and I have no more to say," answered the Nawab, when this had been translated to him. "He dies at sunrise. I have sworn it. And now, let her depart." Hilda stood for a few moments in silence, her great eyes fixed upon the Nawab's face. Then she said,-- "May I not see him? May I not bid him farewell? That will not break the chief's oath." Mushim Khan pondered for a moment and frowned. The terrible vendetta spirit had entirely warped his nature, which was not naturally a harsh or cruel one, rendering him utterly merciless. But he answered,-- "She can see him until the hour of prayer. Then she must depart as she came."