Part 26 (1/2)
”Memsahib, I have yet to ride for succor! At daybreak, when these Hindus learn that the guns will not come back, they will rise to a ood even to think what I ain, but without the charcoal this ti in Hindustanee through his savage black mustache ”I have yet to hear what price a Hindu sets on immunity from torture!”
But the priest, it seeh puckered eyes at Ruth, keen, cool calculation in his glance, and in spite of the discomfort of his strained position he contrived to nod
”Kharvani!” he muttered, half aloud
”Aye! Call on Kharvani!” sneered the Risaldar ”Perhaps the Bride of Sivi will appear! Call louder!”
He stirred again ah Priest both shuddered
”Look!” said the High Priest in Hindustanee, nodding in Ruth's direction It was the first word that he had addressed to them It took them by surprise, and the Risaldar and his half-brother turned and looked Their breath left theht, her thin, hot-weather gar htened eyes Her blue-black hair, which had beco plait over one shoulder and gleaolden color froht, and her face see, all at once, that strangely enhanced her beauty, silhouetted as she was against the blackness of the wall behind, she see with radiated light
”Kharvani!” said the High Priest to hiain, and the two Rajputs stood still like men dumfounded, and stared and stared and stared They knew Kharvani's temple Who was there in Hanadra, Christian or Moha of the city, the ancient, gloomy, wonderful erection where bats lived in the doe, the place where every one o who needed favors of the priests, the central hub of treason and intrigue, where every plot was hatched and every ruoal of every bribe and every black rupee!
They knew, too, as every one , awe-inspiring picture of Kharvani painted on the inner wall; of Kharvani as she was idealized in the days when priests believed in her and artists thought the labor of a lifeti but one picture of her-Kharvani the sorrowful, grieving for the wickedness of earth; Kharvani, Bride of Siva, ready to intercede with Siva, the Destroyer, for the helpless, foolish, purblind sons of man
And here, before therowled Mahommed Khan
”'A purblind fool, a sot and a Mohammedan,”' quoted the priest maliciously, ”'how many be they, three or one?'”
The Risaldar's hand went to his scabbard His sword licked out free and tre-fork He flicked with his thumbnail at the blade and rinned, but the blade cae of his nose His eyes squinted inward, watching it
”Now, rowled the Risaldar Ruth Bellairs checked a scream
”No blood!” she exclaimed ”Don't hurt him, Risaldar! I'll not have you kill a man in here-or anywhere, in cold blood, for that matter! Return your sword, sir!”
The Risaldar swore into his beard The High Priest grinned again ”I am not afraid to die!” he sneered ”Thrust with that toy of thine! Thrust home and make an end!”
”Memsahib!” said the Risaldar, ”all this is foolishness and waste of ti Leave the room-leave me and my half-brother with this priest for five short -place where you may lie hid until I come!”
”But you'll hurt him!”
”Not if he speaks, and speaks the truth!”
”Promise o?”
The Risaldar's eyes glanced toward the door of the inner room, but he hesitated ”Nay! There is the ayah!” he muttered ”Is there no other rooh that door Besides, I would rather stay here! I am afraid of what you may do to that priest if I leave you alone with him!”