tless," sneered the blind man. "Under thy hand--until, in the end,
it be found to consist of boxes of stones and old iron. Look you--the
treasure goes to-night or _I_ go, and certain others go with me. And
suppose I change my tune in the market-place, Havildar Nazir Ali Khan,
and say certain words concerning _thee_ and thy designs, give hints of
treachery--and where is the loud-mouthed Nazir Ali Khan?..." and his
blind eyes glared cold ferocity at the last speaker who handled his
sword and replied nothing.

The secret of the man's power was clear.

"The treasure will be removed to night," he repeated and a discussion of
limes, routes, escort and other details followed. A dispute arose
between the big man addressed as Havildar Nazir Ali Khan and a squat
broad-shouldered Pathan as to the distance and probable time that a
convoy, moving at the rate of laden bullock-carts, would take in
reaching Pirgunge.

The short thick-set Pathan turned for confirmation of his estimate to
another Pathan, grey-eyed but obviously a Pathan, nevertheless.

"I say it is five _kos_ and the carts should start at moonrise and
arrive before the moon sets."

"You are right, brother," replied the grey-eyed Pathan, who, for his own
reasons, particularly desired that the convoy should move by moonlight.
This individual had not spoken hitherto in the hearing of the blind
faquir, and, as he did so now, the blind man turned sharply in his
direction, a look of startled surprise and wonder on his face.

"Who spoke?" he snapped.

But the grey-eyed man arose, yawned hugely, and, arranging his puggri
and straightening his attire, swaggered towards the door of the room,
passed out into a high-walled courtyard, exchanged a few words with the
guardian of a low gateway, and emerged into a narrow alley where he was
joined by an African-looking camel-man.

The blind man, listening intently, sat motionless for a minute and then
again asked sharply:--

"Who spoke? Who spoke?"

"Many have spoken Pir Saheb," replied the squat Pathan.

"Who said '_You are right, brother_,' but now? Who? Quick!" he cried.

"Who? Why, 'twas one of us," replied the squat Pathan. "Yea, 'twas
Abdulali Habbibullah, the money-lender. I have known him long...."

"Let him speak again," said the blind man.

"Where is he? He has gone out, I think," answered the other.

"Call him back, Hidayetullah. Take others and bring him back. I must
hear his voice again," urged the faquir.