The other four went off a few paces to beg that the butler and groom would not come so near as to interrupt the good Samaritan at his devotions.
'All being ready, one of the four, in a low undertone, gave the "jhirni" (signal),[12] the handkerchiefs were thrown over their necks, and in a few minutes all three--the Mogul and his servants-- were dead, and lying in the grave in the usual manner, the head of one at the feet of the one below him.

All the parties they had met on the road belonged to a gang of Jamaldehi Thugs, of the kingdom of Oudh.[13] In despair of being able to win the Mogul's confidence in the usual way, and determined to have the money and jewels, which they knew he carried with him, they had adopted this plan of disarming him; dug the grave by the side of the road, in the open plain, and made a handsome young Musalman of the party the dead soldier.

The Mogul, being a very stout man, died almost without a struggle, as is usually the case with such; and his two servants made no resistance.' People of great sensibility, with hearts overcharged with sorrow, often appear cold and callous to those who seem to them to feel no interest in their afflictions.

An instance of this kind I will here mention; it is one of thousands that I have met with in my Indian rambles.

It was mentioned to me one day that an old 'fakir',[14] who lived in a small hut close by a little shrine on the side of the road near the town of Moradabad, had lately lost his son, poisoned by a party of 'daturias', or professional poisoners,[15] that now infest every road throughout India.