‘Mirza Abu Bakr,’ says Rajab Ali putting his hand on another. This man also steps out and hands his sword to Macdowell Sahib.

‘Mirza Khizr Sultan.’

The third man follows the example of the other two. All three go back and huddle on the ox cart. The crowd watches the scene. You can see some people are getting very agitated. The burr-burr of anger becomes a roar. As the cart moves forward, the mob surges behind it.

Hodson Sahib turns round his horse, draws his sword and holds it aloft. ‘Halt,’ he orders. The mob halts and falls silent. Hodson Sahib orders fifty sowars to go ahead with the cart. He and Macdowell Sahib ride up to the mob. The mob withdraws step by step till it is back in the mausoleum gate. Hodson Sahib shouts at the top of his voice, ‘Lay down your arms.’

Another miracle of the Guru! They throw down their swords and muskets on the ground. It takes us two hours to collect them and load them on carts. Never in my life have I known hours like these! And never in my life have I known a man like Hodson Sahib Bahadur! He, as I am always saying, is one of a hundred thousand!

We ride at a smart canter to catch up with our party. There are gangs of armed men all along the road. The gangs become bigger and bigger as we approach the city. We plough our way through and join our party escorting the prisoners. All round us and upto the city walls is this armed mob shouting ‘Allah-o-Akbar’ and brandishing swords at us. I pray to my Guru and promise to offer one rupee four annas at the Chandni Chowk gurdwara if my life is spared. The Guru hears my prayer. Hodson Sahib gallops up to the cart carrying the prisoners and orders it to halt. The burr-burr dies down. We are passing through a gate about half-a-mile from the city. On our right is the grey-black ruin of a Mussalman palace with that Buddhist column the one-eyed Rajab Ali was talking about; for the rest it is just a sea of heads, naked sabres and carbines. The sun is about to set. Hodson Sahib raises his hands and turns about in his saddle to speak to everyone. ‘These three men in our custody are murderers. These butchers have the blood of many innocent women and children on their hands. You will now witness the justice of the Company Bahadur. Stand back, see, and remember.’

The crowd falls back. Our sowars form a ring around the ox cart. ‘Get down all three of you and take off your clothes,’ orders Hodson Sahib.

The three men obey. Their faces are yellow. Their hands tremble as they remove their shirts. ‘Everything,’ orders Hodson Sahib again.