hosis: "Dewani," he said, "do you remember when a
certain raja sent his Prime Minister and twenty thousand men to punish
Pertab for not paying his taxes, and Pertab gave one Bhart, a Bagree,
ten thousand rupees and a village to bring him the Minister's
head--which he did, tied to the inside of his brass-studded shield?"

"Yes, Prince; that is a way of this land."

Nana Sahib drew forth a gold cigarette case, lighted a cigarette from a
fireball that stood in a brass cup, and gazed quizzically at the Dewan.
There was a little hush. This story had set Jean Baptiste's nerves
tingling; there was something behind it.

The Dewan half guessed what was in the air, but he blinked his big eyes
solemnly, and reaching for a small lacquer box took from it a Ran leaf,
with a finger smeared some ground lime on it, and wrapping the leaf
around a piece of betel-nut popped it into his capacious mouth.

"These Bagrees are in the protection of Rajas, Karowlee, are they not?"
Nana Sahib asked.

"Yes, Prince; even some of Bhart's relatives are there--one Ajeet
Singh; he's a celebrated leader of these decoits."

"And Sindhia took from Karowlee some territory, didn't he?"

"Yes; Karowlee refused to pay the taxes."

"I should think the Raja would like to have it back."

"No doubt, Prince."

Nana Sahib, holding the cigarette to his lips between two fingers gazed
mockingly at the large-paunched Brahmin. Then he said; "I see the
illuminating light of understanding in your eyes, Dewani--a subtle
comprehension. Small wonder that you are Minister to the delightful
Sindhia. If you are making any promises to Karowlee, I should make
them in the name of Sindhia--through Sirdar Baptiste, of course. And,
Dewani, this restless cuss, Amir Khan, might make a treaty with the
English any time. The dear fish-eyed Resident has been particularly
active--my spies can hardly keep up with him. I shouldn't lose any
time--Ajeet Singh sounds promising."

Nana Sahib drew a slim flat gold watch from his pocket. "I now must
leave you two interesting gentlemen," he said, "for I am to play a few
chuckers of polo with--particularly, Captain Barlow. He is jackal to
the bloodless Resident. I really thought a couple of days ago that he
would have to be sent home on sick leave. One of my officers rode him
off the ball in a fierce drive for goal, and by some devilish mistake
the post hadn't been sawed half-through, so when Barlow crashed into it
it stood up.