But you are merely one who sows trouble. You are like
the little jackal--the dirty little jackal--who starts a fight
between two tigers so that he may fill his mean belly! Don't speak--
listen!"
The German's jaw had dropped, but not because words rushed to his
lips. He seemed at a loss for them.
"You made me an offer, and I accepted it," continued Ranjoor Singh.
"I accepted it on behalf of India. I shall show you in about an hour
from now a native regiment--one of the very best native regiments,
so mutinous that its officers must lead it out of Delhi to a camp
where it will be less dangerous and less likely to corrupt others."
The German nodded. He had asked no more.
"Then, if you fail to fulfill your part," said Ranjoor Singh grimly,
"I shall lock you in the cellar of this house, where Yasmini keeps
her cobras!"
_"Vorwarts!"_ laughed the German, for there was conviction in
every word the Sikh had said. "I will show you how a German keeps his
bargain!"
"A German?" growled Ranjoor Singh. "A German--Germany is nothing to
me! If Germany can pick the bones I leave, what do I care? One does
not bargain with a spy, either; one pays his price, and throws him to
the cobras if he fail! Come!"
The question of precedence no longer seemed to trouble Ranjoor
Singh; he turned his back without apology, and as the German followed
him down-stairs there came a giggle from behind the curtains.
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