With oriental philosophy
they accepted the situation. They had sought to overturn him, and he
held them in the hollow of his hand. During the weeks of his absence
in America his spies had hung about them like bees about honey. They
were the fowlers snared.

Umballa proceeded along the corridor to a flight of stairs leading
beneath the palace floor. Here the soldiers were agreeable enough;
they had reason to be. Umballa gave them new minted rupees for their
work, many rupees. For they knew secrets. Before the door of a
dungeon Umballa paused and listened. There was no sound. He returned
upstairs and sought a chamber near the harem. This he entered, and
stood with folded arms near the door.

"Ah, Colonel Sahib!"

"Umballa?" Colonel Hare, bearded, unkempt, tried to stand erect and
face his enemy. "You black scoundrel!"

"Durga Ram, Sahib. Words, words; the patter of rain on stone roofs.
Our king lives no more, alas!"

"You lie!"

"He is dead. Dying, he left you this throne--you, a white man, knowing
it was a legacy of terror and confusion. You knew. Why did you
return? Ah, pearls and sapphires and emeralds! What? I offer you
this throne upon conditions."

"And those conditions I have refused."

"You have, yes, but now----" Umballa smiled. Then he suddenly blazed
forth: "Think you a white man shall sit upon this throne while I live?
It is mine. I was his heir."

"Then why didn't you save him from the leopard? I'll tell you why.
You expected to inherit on the spot, and I spoiled the game. Is that
not true?"

"And what if I admit it?" truculently.

"Umballa, or Durga Ram, if you wish, listen. Take the throne. What's
to hinder you? You want it. Take it and let me begone."

"Yes, I want it; and by all the gods of Hind I'll have it--but safely.
Ah! It would be fine to proclaim myself when mutiny and rebellion
stalk about. Am I a pig to play a game like that? Tch! Tch!" He
clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in derision. "No; I
need a buckler till all this roily water subsides and clears."

"And then, some fine night, Hare Sahib's throat? I am not afraid of
death, Umballa. I have faced it too many times. Make an end of me at
once or leave me to rot here, my answer will always be the same. I
will not become a dishonorable tool. You have offered me freedom and
jewels. No; I repeat, I will free all slaves, abolish the harems, the
buying and selling of flesh; I