Urdu is perhaps the politest of written tongues and lends itself most readily to indirectness; but since he did not expect to read a catalogue of exact facts, he was not disappointed.
Translated, the letter ran:
"To Athelstan King sahib, by the hand of Rewa Gunga.
Greeting. The bearer is my well-trusted servant, whom
I have chosen to be the sahib's guide until Heaven
shall be propitious and we meet. He is instructed
in all that he need know concerning what is now in hand,
and he will tell by word of mouth such things as ought
not to be written. By all means let Rewa Gunga travel
with you, for he is of royal blood, of the House of
Ketchwaha and will not fail you. His honor and mine
are one. Praying that the many gods of India may heap
honors on your honor's head, providing each his proper
attribute toward entire ability to succeed in all things,
but especially in the present undertaking,
"I am Your Excellency's humble servant,
—Yasmini."
He had barely finished reading it when the coachman took a last corner at a gallop and drew the horses up on their haunches at a door in a high white wall. Rewa Gunga sprang out of the carriage before the horses were quite at a standstill.
"Here we are!" he said, and King, gathering up the letter and the silver tube, noticed that the street curved here so that no other door and no window overlooked this one.
He followed the Rangar, and he was no sooner into the shadow of the door than the coachman lashed the horses and the carriage swung out of view.
"This way," said the Rangar over his shoulder. "Come!"
