s room, and set it in a niche
on the wall, took off his shoes, and threw himself down on his
charpoy at eleven o'clock that night. For a long time he had been
listening to the bul-buls, the nightingales, in the garden, and
thinking of this moment. Now it had come, and Sunni quivered and
throbbed all over with excitement. He lay very still, though, on
the watch for footsteps, whispers, breathings in the passage. Four
years in the palace had taught Sunni what these things meant. He
lay still for more than two hours.

At last, very quietly, Sunni lifted himself up by his elbows, put
first one leg, and then the other, out of the charpoy, and got up.
More quietly still he drew the locked box from under the bed, took
a key from his pocket, and opened it. The key squeaked in the
wood, and Sunni paused again for a long time, listening. Then in
the smoky, uncertain light of the chirag flaring in the niche, he
took from the box three gold bangles, two broken armlets, enamelled
in red and blue, and a necklace of pearls with green enamelled
pendants. Last, he drew out a little sword with rubies set in the
hilt. For an instant Sunni hesitated; the ornaments were nothing,
but the sword was his chief possession and his pride. It would be
so easy to carry away! He looked at it lovingly for a minute, and
laid it with the rest. All these things were his very own, but
something told him that he must not take them away. Then he took
the long coarse white turban cloth from his head, and wrapped
everything skilfully in it. Nothing jangled, and when the parcel
was made up it was flat and even. Then Sunni, with his English
pen, printed in Urdu:

[Urdu text]

which in English letters would have been spelled 'Maharajah ka
wasti,' and which meant simply, 'For the Maharajah,' upon one side
of it. Upon the other he wrote in the large round hand that Dr.
Roberts had taught him--

'To your Honner, the Maharajah of Chita. Sunni will take your
Honner in his hart to his oun country, but the gifs are too
heavie.'

Sunni had certainly learned politeness at last among the Rajputs.
Then he put the parcel back into the box, softly locked it, and
laid the key on the cover.

Still nobody came his way. Sunni took another turban cloth from
its nail in the wall, a finely-woven turban cloth, with blue and
gold stripes, nine yards long, for festivals. He twisted it
carelessly round his neck, and blew out the chirag. Then he
sl