The treasure--the fabled, fabulous, enormous Howrah treasure was no fable.

It was there, behind that wall! The jewels and the bullion in marketable bars that could have bought an army or a kingdom--the sacred, secret treasure of twenty troubled generations, that was guarded in the front by fifty doors and fifty corridors and three times fifty locks--the door of whose secret vault was guarded by a cannon, set to explode at the slightest touch--was hidden from the public road at its other side, its rear, by nothing better than a five-foot wall of ill-cemented stone! Cunningham stepped inside over the dismantled masonry and sat down on a chest that held more money's worth than all the Cunninghams in all the world had ever owned, or spent, or owed, or used, or dreamed of! "Ask Alwa and Mahommed Gunga to come to me here!" he called; and a minute later they stood at attention in front of him.
"Send a hundred men, each with a flag of truce on his lance, to gallop through the city and call on Jaimihr's men to rally to me, if they wish protection against Howrah!" "Good, sahib! Good!" swore Alwa.

"Howrah is the next danger! Make ready to fight Howrah!" "Attend to my orders, please!" smiled Cunningham, and Alwa did as he was told.

Within an hour Jaimihr's men were streaming from the four quarters of the compass, hurrying to be on the winning side, and forming into companies as they were ordered.
Then Cunningham gave another order.
"Alwa-sahib, will you take another flag of truce, please, and ride with not more than two men to Maharajah Howrah.

Tell him that I want him here at once to settle about this treasure." Alwa stared.