ipped softly into the passage, and from that into the close,
dark, high-walled corridors that led into the outer courts. He
stepped quickly, but carefully; the corridors were full of sleeping
servants. Twice he passed a sentinel. The first was stupid with
opium, and did not notice him. Mar Singh, the second, was very
wide awake.

'Where go you, Sunni-ji?' he asked, inquisitively.

'I go to speak with Tooni about a matter which troubles me so that
I cannot sleep,' answered Sunni; 'and afterwards I return to the
little south balcony that overlooks the river; it will be cooler
there if the wind blows.'

As Sunni went on, the thoughts of the sentinel became immediately
fixed upon the necessity of being awake when the sahib's son should
pass in again--the sahib's son had the ear of the Maharajah.

The ayah's hut was in the very farthest corner of the courtyard she
had begged for, somewhat apart from the others. It was quite dark
inside when Sunni pushed open the door, but the old woman,
slumbering light, started up from her charpoy with a little cry.

'Choop!' said he in a low, quick tone; and Tooni, recognising his
voice, was instantly silent.

Sunni made his way to the side of the bed, and took one of her
hands.

'Listen, Tooni,' said he, in the same tone, 'I am come for what is
mine. Give it to me.'

'Sonny Sahib!' quavered the old woman hoarsely, 'what have I to
give you? Dil kushi,[8] I have nothing.'

[8] 'Heart's delight.'

'What from fear you have never given up, nor burnt, nor thrown
away,' said Sunni, firmly; 'what you said false words to ee-Wobbis
about, when you told him it had been stolen from you. My little
black book, with my God in it.'

'Hazur! I have it not.'

'Give it to me,' said Sunni.

The old woman raised herself in the bed. 'A sahib's promise is
written in gold,' said she; 'promise that the Maharajah shall never
know.'

'He shall never know,' said Sunni.

Tooni felt her way to the side of the hut; then her hand fumbled
along the top of the wall; it seemed to Sunni for an interminable
time. At a certain place she parted the thatch and put her hand
into it with a little rustling that Sunni thought might be heard in
the very heart of the palace. Then she drew out a small, tight
sewn, oilskin bag, that had taken the shape of the book inside it,
groped across the hut again, and gave it to Sunni. The boy's hand
trembled as he took it, and without a word he slipped