‘Who the hell are they?’ Arthur said in a strained tone. The men were all superbly muscled and looked as if they could break a man’s neck with their bare hands.

‘Jettis,’ Baird explained quietly. ‘Strong men. They performed tricks and feats of strength for Tipoo and his father.’

‘What kind of tricks?’ Fitzroy asked with a trace of anxiety.

‘I’ve seen them twist a man’s head right round. And worse.’

The killadar was standing close to the edge of the pit and beckoned to them. As they drew closer Arthur caught a glimpse of an animal’s skin as it prowled round the far side of the pit: a tawny yellow with darker stripes.

‘Tigers! It’s a tiger pit.’

They approached the rim of the pit carefully. Three huge tigers were sitting chewing on what looked like the remains of a man. Arthur felt sick.Then the full scale of the horror hit him as he reached the edge of the pit and stared down. There were perhaps a dozen mauled bodies scattered across the floor. The tattered remains of their red uniform jackets was proof enough of who they were. The men who had accompanied the three English officers began to mutter angrily at the sight.

‘Prisoners,’ Arthur realised. ‘The men we lost in the tope.’

‘What have they done to them?’ Fitzroy asked quietly.

Arthur looked more closely and saw that most of the necks of the dead were twisted round at horrible angles. Some of them had what looked like huge nails sticking out of the top of their skulls. He stared at the bodies a moment, as nausea welled up in his stomach. Then he glanced at the jettis again. Surely not, he thought. God, please not that.

Baird had been watching his expression and read his thoughts precisely. ‘That’s right, Wellesley. These men did it. Beat the nails into the skulls of our men with their bare hands, while our men still lived. I know, I saw them do it when I was a prisoner here. Indeed, I lived with the thought that they would do that to me one day.’ Baird looked pale as he spoke.

‘Bastards . . .’ one of the soldiers growled as he stared on the bodies of his comrades. Suddenly he swung round, lowered his bayonet and drove it into the stomach of one of the jettis. The man doubled over with a deep explosive groan under the impact.

While the officers watched, too shocked to react, the soldier withdrew the weapon, reversed it and swung the butt against the jetti’s head, then kicked the man over the edge of the pit. He landed with a thud and a crack as his arm broke under the weight of his muscled body. At his cry one of the tigers roused itself and padded cautiously towards him, and despite the pain from his wounds the man screamed in terror.