“It’s only five miles to the border,” I noted.

“And three—”

“Three more to the British encampment, yes. But once we get to the border, couldn’t we send Mr O’Hara on under his own power?” I turned to our unhelpful burden, the monk sitting patiently and untroubled. “Wouldn’t that be within the scope of your vow?”

“Oah yes,” he replied happily. “Once outside the borders of Khanpur, I will have already—however unwillingly—effected my escape. The vow would thus be broken, well and truly; I could come and go wherever I pleased.”

I felt another pulse of rage at the absurdity of this escapade, arguing Jesuitical minutiae with an Irish Buddhist spy while Holmes performed conjuring tricks before a mad maharaja—and then I pushed the emotion down: No time for it now.

“I’d like to propose a change of plan,” I said grimly. “I think it might be a very good idea if you and I, Nesbit, were inside The Forts when the sun comes up.”

Nesbit was no longer too winded to argue, but I spoke over his automatic objections.

“I know, the original plan was for us four to make for the border and abandon Khanpur. But thanks to Mr O’Hara here, we are only three. It’s less than five miles to the border, and not yet one o’clock. Eleven miles forced march there and back, you and I could be in our beds before daylight.”

Nesbit’s quick brain considered my words, saw their truth, and picked out the glaring problem. “We can’t manage the pace carrying him.”

“No,” I agreed. So I pulled the fancy revolver out of my belt, cocked it, and lowered it until its gleaming barrel pointed directly between Kimball O’Hara’s arched eyebrows. “He’s going to walk.”

A great silence fell sharply. A pi-dog barked in the distance, a peahen screamed, and I became aware that only one of us was breathing evenly. Then Nesbit gave an uncertain laugh.

“I don’t believe that’s going to work.”

I allowed some of my anger to surface, which was not difficult. “My husband chose to remain in the hands of a powerful and mentally unstable man in order to buy time to get Mr O’Hara free. I, however, have no particular affection for your retired spy, and I have no intention of abandoning Holmes under those circumstances. Mr O’Hara’s unwillingness to carry his own weight delays me and puts my husband into even greater danger. You honestly think I won’t pull this trigger?”