He heard a door slam shut, and almost at the same moment his fingers, that had never once ceased working, tore a corner of the sheet loose. In another minute he was free. He threw the sheet from him and looked about, accustoming his eyes to darkness. Presently, not far from him, he made out the sheeted figure of another man, who lay exactly as he had done and worked with tired fingers. He drew the dagger out of his hair and cut the man loose. "Jagut Singh!" he exclaimed. The trooper stood up and saluted. "Who brought thee here?" "Women, sahib, in a carriage!" "When?" "Even now!" "Where is that Afridi?" "Dead, sahib!" "How?" "She brought us water in a brass vessel, saying it was by thy orders, sahib. She cut us loose and gave him water first. Then, while she gave me to drink the Afridi attacked her, and I slew him with my hands, tearing his throat out--thus! While the life yet fluttered in him they threw a sheet over me--and here I am! Salaam, sahib!" The trooper saluted again. "Who made thee prisoner in the first place?" "Hillmen, sahib, at the orders of the Afridi who is now dead. They made ready to torture me, showing me the knives they would use. But she came, and they obeyed her, binding the Afridi fast to me. After that I heard the sahib's voice, and then this happened. That is all, sahib." "Well!" said Ranjoor Singh. And for the third time his trooper saw fit to salute him. Who shall be trusted to carry my trust? (Hither, and answer me, stranger!) Slow to give ground be he--swifter to thrust-- Instant,--yet wary o' danger! Hand without craftiness, eye without lust, Lip without flattery! Such an one must Prove yet his worthiness--yet earn my trust! (Closer, and answer me, stranger!) First let me lead him alone, and apart; There let me feel of his pulse and his heart! (Hither, and play with me, stranger!) CHAPTER XI Men say Yasmini does not sleep. Of course, that is absurd. None the less, it is certain she must do much of her plotting in the daytime, for by night, until after midnight, she is always the Yasmini whom the Northern gentry know, at home to all comers in her wonderful apartment. It is ever a mystery to them how she knows all that is going on in Delhi, and in India, and in the greater outer world, although they themselves bring her information that no government could ever suck out of the silent hills. They know where she keeps her cobras--where the strong-box is, in which her jewels lie crowded--who run her errands--and some of her past history, for not even a mongoose is more inquisitive than a man born in the hills, and Yasmini has many maids. But none--not even her favorite, most confidential maids--know what is in the little room that she reaches down a private flight of stairs that have a steel door at the top. She keeps the key to that steel door, and it has, besides, a combination lock that only she understands.