Her pale face,
her blue eyes strained in terror, the parted lips and the attitude
of tension, these gave him an idea. Before the charcoal touched him,
he screamed--screamed like a wounded horse.
"Mahommed Khan, stop! Stop this instant! I won't have it! I won't
have my life, even, on those terms! D'you hear me, sir!"
"Have courage, heavenborn! There is but one way to force a Hindu
priest, unless it be by cutting off his revenues--he must be hurt!
This dog is unhurt as yet--see! The fire has not yet touched his foot!"
"Don't let it, Mahommed Khan! Set that iron down! This is my room.
I will not have crime committed here!"
"And how long does the heavenborn think it would be her room were
this evil-living pig of a priest at large, or how long before a worse
crime were committed? Heavenborn, the hour is late and the charcoal
dies out rapidly when it has left the fire! See. I must choose another
piece!"
He rummaged in the brazier, and she screamed again.
"I will not have it, Risaldar! You must find another way."
"Memsahib! Thy husband left thee in my care.
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