Durga Ram, called lightly Umballa, went directly to the palace, where
he knew the Council of Three solemnly awaited his arrival. He dashed
up the imposing flight of marble steps, exultant. He had fulfilled his
promise; the golden daughter of Hare Sahib was but a few miles away.
The soldiers, guarding the entrance, presented their arms respectfully;
but instantly after Umballa disappeared the expression on their faces
was not pleasing.
Umballa hurried along through the deep corridor, supported by
exquisitely carved marble columns. Beauty in stone was in evidence
everywhere and magnificent brass lamps hung from the ceiling. There
was a shrine topped by an idol in black marble, incrusted with
sapphires and turquoises. Durga Ram, who shall be called Umballa,
nodded slightly as he passed it. Force of habit, since in his heart
there was only one religion--self.
He stopped at a door guarded by a single soldier, who saluted but spat
as soon as Umballa had passed into the throne room. The throne itself
was vacant. The Council of Three rose at the approach of Umballa.
"She is here," he said haughtily.
The council salaamed.
Umballa stroked his chin as he gazed at the huge candles flickering at
each side of the throne. He sniffed the Tibetan incense, and shrugged.
It was written. "Go," he said, "to Hare Sahib's bungalow and await me.
I shall be there presently. There is plenty of time. And remember our
four heads depend upon the next few hours. The soldiers are on the
verge of mutiny, and only success can pacify them."
He turned without ceremony and left them. With oriental philosophy
they accepted the situation. They had sought to overturn him, and he
held them in the hollow of his hand. During the weeks of his absence
in America his spies had hung about them like bees about honey. They
were the fowlers snared.
Umballa proceeded along the corridor to a flight of stairs leading
beneath the palace floor. Here the soldiers were agreeable enough;
they had reason to be. Umballa gave them new minted rupees for their
work, many rupees. For they knew secrets. Before the door of a
dungeon Umballa paused and listened. There was no sound. He returned
upstairs and sought a chamber near the harem. This he entered, and
stood with folded arms near the door.
"Ah, Colonel Sahib!"
"Umballa?" Colonel Hare, bearded, unkempt, tried to stand erect and
face his enemy. "You black scoundrel!"
"Durga Ram, Sahib. Words, words; the patter of rain on stone roofs.
Our king lives no more, alas!"
"You lie!"
"He is dead. Dying, he left you this throne--you, a white man, knowing
it was a legacy of terror and confusion. You knew. Why did you
return? Ah, pearls and sapphires and emeralds! What? I offer you
this throne upon conditions."