She cowers
when a knock comes at the door! I need you, and you answer a hardly
spoken prayer; what is friendship, if yours is not?"
The Risaldar bowed low again.
"I would speak with that ayah, heavenborn!" he muttered, almost into
his beard. She could hardly catch the words.
"I can't get her to speak to me at all tonight, Mahommed Khan. She's
terrified almost out of her life at something. But perhaps you can
do better. Try. Do you want to question her alone?"
"By the heavenborn's favor, yes."
Ruth walked down the room toward the window, drew the curtain back
and leaned her head out where whatever breeze there was might fan
her cheek. The Risaldar strode over to where the ayah cowered by
an inner doorway.
"She-Hindu-dog!" he growled at her. "Mother of whelps! Louse-ridden
scavenger of sweepings! What part hast thou in all this treachery?
Speak!"
The ayah shrank away from him and tried to scream, but he gripped
her by the throat and shook her.
"Speak!" he growled again.
But his ten iron fingers held her in a vise-like grip and she could
not have answered him if she had tried to.
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