He disclosed more. He spoke of mysterious travellers from many lands that
came to the Palace to confer with the _Dewan_--Chinese, Afghans, Bhutanese,
Indians of many castes and races, white men not of the sahib-_logue_. He
said enough to convince his hearers that many threads of the world-wide
conspiracy against the British Raj led to Lalpuri. There was not proof
enough yet for the Government of India to take action against its rulers,
perhaps, but sufficient to show where the arch-conspirators of Bengal were
to be sought for.
Rama left the room, not pardoned indeed, but with the promise of punishment
suspended as long as he was true to the oath he had sworn by the Blessed
Water of the Ganges, to be true slave and bearer of news when Dermot needed
him.
Long after he left, the two sat and talked of the strange happenings of the
last few days, and disclosed to each other what they knew of the treason
that stalked the land, for each was servant of the Crown and his knowledge
might help the other. And when the hoot of Payne's motor-horn in the outer
courtyard told them that it was time for Dermot to go, they said good-bye
in the outwardly careless fashion of the Briton who has looked into
another's eyes and found him true man and friend.
Then through the darkness into the dawn Dermot sped away with his
companions from the City of Shame and the Palace of Death.
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