The jeweled dagger of Mirzah Shah was now securely locked in a little chest where Alan Hawke kept a few articles hidden away in the humble home of the passive plaything of his idle hours.

As he caught sight of the Marble House, with its gathered crowds, he saw the gleam of musket barrels, as a company of foot were picketing the vast garden inclosure, and forcing back the excited crowd.
A non-commissioned officer swung open the heavy gates which would only turn on their hinges once more for Hugh Johnstone going out on his last journey.

"The General awaits you, Major," said the sergeant, touching his cap.

"He has already asked for you." And as Hawke rode up to the front door he was suddenly reminded of his imperiled interests.

"The drafts! They may be stopped now! By God! I must see Ram Lal! I need him now and he needs me." With an unruffled professional calm, however, Major Hawke reported to the visibly disturbed General commanding.
With a single warning gesture of silence, General Willoughby drew the Major aside.