Dunkar Rao waved his hand after the manner of his royal master, as if the price of the car was not a subject of dispute.
“As his Highness wishes for a state automobile which shall surpass in splendor the automobile of any other prince, what more is there to be said?”
But Lambert presently discovered there was much more to be said. By hints and a significant manner Dunkar Rao let it be understood that according to ancient custom a “present” was due the prime minister which would more than obliterate all the profit, and Lambert was not out for that kind of business. Thus a decided check to the negotiations was reached—no “present,” no sealing of the contract—for the wily minister had many excuses at command with which to put off the old Raja. So as Lambert firmly decided against the “present” he went away feeling he was up against a pretty contest of wits, with the advantage of position all on the side of Dunkar Rao.
A man having died of cholera at the dak bungalow (traveler’s rest) the day before Lambert’s arrival, he had preferred to rent the upper story of a house in the Mohammedan quarter. Lambert’s room possessed the advantage of overlooking the walled garden of a mosque—a refreshing glimpse of shrubs and flowers in the fierce blaze of noontide, and a feast for the eyes when the red glow of sunset bathed the adjacent marble dome and fretwork tracery of cloistered arches in a splendor of color. It deepened into mystery when the shadows fell and the clear high pitched voice of the mullah—“La! il-lah-Ullaho!”—rose to float over the city. With interest stimulated to further discovery Lambert had climbed to the roof, and from that place of vantage had
