It has been three days since Bhaironsingh left for Rajgriha. No news has yet arrived from there, and in this anxious state, Prince Indrajitsingh lies awake on his bed in his chamber, unable to sleep even at midnight. The imagined image of Kishori appears again and again before his eyes, only to vanish each time. This brings him even greater sorrow. Distressed, he sighs deeply and sits up. Sometimes, when his restlessness becomes unbearable, he leaves the bed and begins to pace the room.

In this condition, Indrajitsingh was pacing inside his chamber when a guard peeked in, saw him walking, and withdrew. After a while, the guard came and stood by the door, hoping that the prince would notice him and ask something, so that he might speak. But the prince was lost in his own thoughts, entirely unaware.

What happened was that someone was peering towards them, or perhaps standing there in the hope that they would look his way and ask something. At last, the soldier deliberately opened one leaf of the door in such a manner that it made a sound. At the same moment, the prince turned and looked at him, and with a gesture, asked what it was.

King Surendrasingh, Virendrasingh, Indrajitsingh, and Anandsingh had all given strict orders that, even if there was no opportunity to inform them of anything else, if any ayyār arrived and said, "I am an ayyār and wish to meet right now," then no matter how inopportune the time, they must be informed at once. There was no restriction for their own ayyārs; even if they entered the palace at an untimely hour or went wherever they pleased, they were shown the same hospitality and respect in the palace as would be shown to a fifteen-year-old boy. The ayyārs themselves were a perfect example of this privilege.

The soldier folded his hands and said, "An ayyār has arrived and wishes to present something right now!" The prince replied, "Brighten the lights and bring him here at once." After a short while, a handsome youth entered the room, dressed in a close-fitting suit of black velvet, a dagger tucked at his waist, and a rope in his hand.

Indrajitsingh looked at him closely, and at once the color of his face changed. Where he had just seemed downcast, now his face shone with happiness.

Indrajitsingh: "I have recognized you."

The boy: "Why wouldn't you? When you have ayyārs here, each more skilled than the last, and you are always in their company. But this time, I haven't even changed my appearance much."

Indrajitsingh: "Kamla, first tell me—where is Kishori, in what condition is she, and has she been freed from Agnidatt's grasp or not?"

Kamla: "Agnidatt no longer knows anything about her."

Indrajitsingh: "Come here and sit beside us. Tell me everything that has happened. I am not worthy to show my face to her, for I could do nothing."

Kamla (sitting down): "Do not think that way. You have done much; you were ready to give your life and endured months of hardship. Your ayyārs are still working in Rajgriha with such diligence that, had they known Kishori was not there, they would have wiped that kingdom from the face of the earth."

Indrajitsingh: "That is why I did not press the matter further, fearing that some calamity might befall poor Kishori in Agnidatt's hands. So, Kishori is not there now?"

Kamla: "No."

Indrajit Singh: Where is she, and in whose custody?

Kamla: At this moment, she is her own mistress; except for modesty, she fears nothing else.

Indrajit Singh: Tell me quickly, where is she? My heart is restless.

Kamla: She is in this very city, but at present, she does not wish to meet you.

Indrajit Singh: (with tears in his eyes) Then I understand—she is upset with me, grieved that I could do nothing for her.

Kamla: No, no, do not even think such a thing!

Indrajit Singh: Then why can I not meet her?

Kamla: (after thinking for a moment) Why should you not meet her? But at this time—

Indrajit Singh: Do you not pity me? Alas, you have no idea what your words are doing to me right now. When you yourself say that she is free, under no one's control, and in this very city, then what reason can there be for her not to meet me? Is it not simply that I am not deemed worthy of her?

Kamla: Still you cling to that same thought! Well, then, come—I shall take you to her. Whatever will be, will be. But bring an ayyār with you. Bhairon Singh is not here; you have sent him to Rajgriha.

Indrajit Singh: No matter, I shall take Tarasingh with me. But how did you learn that Bhairon Singh has gone?

Kamla: I know very well. In fact, I met him and told him myself that Kishori is not in Rajgriha, so he should carry out his work without fear.

Indrajit Singh: If you have told him that, he will surely create quite a commotion in Rajgriha!

Kamla: He should indeed.

At once, Kunwar Indrajit Singh summoned Tarasingh, and, dressing quickly, set out with Kamla, his steps long and eager in the happiness of soon meeting Kishori.

Kamla led them through many winding alleys of the city, taking them far, until she finally stopped at a corner near the Vishnupaduka temple.

Indrajit Singh: Why, what is it? Why have you stopped?

Kamla: We must go into this house.

Indrajit Singh: Then let us go.

Kamla: Right in front of the door of this house is the meeting hall of a powerful landlord. There is a guard posted there day and night. If you are seen passing this way, and it becomes known—

It is not proper that two new people have entered this house today.

Tarasingh: "Then what should we do?"

Kamla: "I will go through the main door. You two go to the back