“Nay, but she is of Nāth Sahib’s blood,” said Jehanara, conscious once more of an inconsistent thrill of perverted pride in her father’s race, as she remembered what other Englishwomen had done before in like circumstances; “but all will be well, Highness, whatever happens. If she is found married to thee, she cannot, as a _pardah_ woman, be brought into court to testify against thee, and if she is dead by that time, why, she killed herself in her terror, not waiting to learn thy merciful intentions towards her. And women pass, but the throne lasts, Highness. The one is better than the other.” “Truly, thou art a veritable Shaitan!” To Bahram Khan’s mind the epithet conveyed a high compliment. “Set the matter in train, then. Here is my seal.” He took off his heavy signet and handed it to her. “Do thou and Narayan Singh see that all is in order, so that not one of my enemies may escape. But what of Barkaraf Sahib? If he leaves the border, I lose half my vengeance.” “It may be, Highness”--the speaker was Narayan Singh, who had remained silent in sheer astonishment at the daring and resourcefulness of his co-plotter--“that the Hasrat Ali Begum might help us in the matter. If her Highness were to hear that any evil threatened the doctor lady or her husband, she would doubtless send a messenger to warn her. Might she not become aware, through some indiscretion” (he looked across at Jehanara), “that the Kumpsioner Sahib was departing from the border to seek his own safety, leaving Nāth Sahib to carry out a dangerous and disagreeable task? Her Highness would send the Eye-of-the-Begum immediately to inform the doctor lady of what she had heard, and does there live a woman upon earth who, having received such tidings, would not at once fling the Kumpsioner Sahib’s cowardice in his teeth, and taunt him until he was forced for very shame to remain and do his business for himself?” “By that saying,” interrupted Jehanara, vexed at being selected to perpetrate an indiscretion, “thou betrayest thine ignorance, Narayan Singh. There is such a woman, and the doctor lady is she. She would tell the news to her husband, and leave him to reproach the Kumpsioner Sahib if he thought fit, and there would be no taunts, for the English are not wont to speak like the bazaar folk. But there is another woman who would work for us, though ignorantly, and that is the wife of the Padri Sahib.” “The lady of the angry tongue!” cried Bahram Khan. “But how should we persuade my mother to send a slave to her?”