The other drafts you will have all ready for me to-morrow and bring them to me at the Marble House." The jeweler groaned and swayed to and fro upon his seat in a mute agony.
"I cannot do it.

I have not the money," he babbled.
"You old lying wretch.

You have screwed a quarter of a million pounds out of Christian, Hindu, and Mohammedan here," mercilessly said the torturer.
"I will not! I cannot! I dare not!" cried Ram Lal, dropping on the floor and trying to bow his head at Hawke's feet.
"Get up! You old beast!" commanded Hawke.

"By God! I'll shoot and disable you now and then arrest you! Tell me! Do you know that dagger ?" With a quick motion, still covering the cowering wretch with his pistol, Hawke drew out the package from his bosom, clumsily tearing off a silk neck scarf-wrapper with his left hand.

He laid down on the table the blood-incrusted dagger of Mirzah Shah.