A cold sweat formed upon his brow under his turban.
"Well ?" said Umballa ironically.
"Huzoor, it is murder!" Umballa shrugged and held out his hand for the packet.
The majordomo swallowed a few times, and bowed his head.

"It shall be done, Huzoor.

My life is yours to do with as you please.

I have said it." "Begone, then, and bring me the news on the morrow that Ramabai is dead.

You alone know where the king is.