feet away from him, its teeth were bared and its claws unsheathed, and there was a glint in its yellow eyes. 'You want to fight a tiger, Sharpie, Hakeswill said, 'that's your business, not mine. Man doesn't have to fight pussy cats, says so in the scriptures.
'You say that one more time, McCandless roared in sudden and unexpected fury, 'and I'll make sure you never wear stripes again! Do you understand me, man?
Hakeswill was taken aback by the Colonel's anger. 'Sir, he said weakly.
'So do as Private Sharpe says, Colonel McCandless ordered. 'And do it now.
Hakeswill beat his hands against the bars. The tiger turned its head and Sharpe immediately snatched the picklock back into the cell and stood again. The tiger leapt at Hakeswill, shaking the bars of his cell with its violence, and Hakeswill backed hurriedly away.
'Keep provoking it, man! McCandless ordered Hakeswill, and the Sergeant spat at the tiger, then threw a handful of straw towards its face. Sharpe worked on the lock. He had the hook against the lever again. The tiger, roused to a petulant fury, stood with its paws against the bars of Hakeswill's cell as Sharpe pressed on the lever and at last felt it move. His hands trembled and the hook grated as it slipped across the lever's face, but he steadied himself and pressed harder. He was holding his breath, willing the lever to unlatch. Sweat stung his eyes, then suddenly the lever clicked across and the lock sprang open in his hands.
'That was the easy part, he said grimly. He folded the picklock and put it back in his pocket. 'Mary! he called. There was no answer. 'Mary! he shouted again, but still there was no reply. Kunwar Singh had pulled his men away from the cells and was now in a deep gateway on the courtyard's far side, trapped between his wish to obey Appah Rao and the apparent impossibility of that obedience.
'What do you need her for? Colonel McCandless asked.
'I don't even know if the bloody gun's loaded, sir. I never asked her.
'Assume it is, McCandless said.
'Easy for you, sir, Sharpe said respectfully, 'being as you ain't the one who's got to go out and kill the beast.
'I'll do it, Lawford offered.
Sharpe grinned. 'It's either you or me, sir, he said, 'and being honest, sir, who do you think will do the best job?
'You, Lawford admitted.
'Which is what I reckoned, sir. But one thing, sir. How do you shoot a tiger? In the head?
'Between the eyes, McCandless said, 'but not too high up. Just below the eyes.
'Bloody hell, Sharpe said. He had eased the padlock out of its hasp and he could now move the door outwards, though he did it gingerly, unwilling to attract the tiger's attention. He pulled the door shut again and stooped for his red jacket that lay on the straw. 'Let's hope the bugger's a stupid pussy cat, he said, then he gently pushed the door open again. The hinges squealed alarmingly. He had the door in his left hand and his red coat was bundled in his right. When the door was open a foot he tossed the coat as hard as he could towards the remains of the goat at the corridor's farther end.
The tiger saw the motion, twisted away from Hakeswill's cage and sprang towards the coat. The red jacket had flown the best part of twenty feet and the tiger covered the distance in one powerful leap. It batted the coat with its claws, then batted it again, but found no flesh and blood inside the cloth.
Sharpe had slipped through the door, turned to the steps and snatched up the pistol. He turned back, hoping to regain the safety of the cell before the tiger noticed him, but his foot slipped on the lowest step and he fell backwards against the stone stairs. The tiger heard him, turned and went still. The yellow eyes stared at Sharpe, Sharpe gazed back, then slowly thumbed the cock of the pistol. The tiger heard the click and its tail lashed once. The merciless eyes watched Sharpe, then, very slowly, the tiger crouched. Its tail swung back and forth once more.
'Don't shoot now! McCandless called softly. 'Get close!
'Yes, sir, Sharpe said. He kept his eyes on the tiger's eyes as he slowly, slowly climbed to his feet and edged towards the beast. The fear was like a mad wild thing inside him. Hakeswill was spitting encouragement, but Sharpe heard nothing and he saw nothing but the tiger's eyes. He wondered if he should attempt to duck back into the cell, but guessed that the tiger would spring while he was still trying to open the door. Better to face the beast and shoot it in the open pit, he decided. He held the pistol at arm's length, keeping the muzzle aimed at a patch of black fur just beneath the animal's eyes. Fifteen feet away, twelve. His boots grated on the stone floor. How accurate was the pistol? It was a pretty enough thing, all ivory and silver, but did it fire true? And how tightly was the ball sized to the barrel? Even a gap between barrel and ball the width of a sheet of paper was enough to throw a bullet wide as it spat out of the muzzle. Even at twelve feet a pistol could miss a man-size target, let alone a small patch of matted fur between a man-eating tiger's eyes.
'Kill the bugger, Sharpie! Hakeswill urged.
'Careful, man! McCandless hissed. 'Make sure of your shot. Careful now!
Sharpe edged forward. His eyes were still fixed on the tiger's eyes. He was willing the beast to stay still, to receive its death gracefully. Ten feet. The tiger was motionless, just watching him. Sweat stung Sharpe's eyes and the weight of the pistol was making his hand tremble. Do it now, he thought, do it now. Pull the trigger, put the bugger down and run like shit. He blinked, his eyes stinging with the sweat. The tiger did not even blink. Eight feet. He could smell the beast, see its unsheathed claws on the stone, see the glint in its eyes. Seven feet. Close enough, he reckoned, and he straightened his arm to line up the pistol's rudimentary sights.
And the tiger sprang. It came from the ground so fast that it was almost on top of Sharpe before he even realized that the beast had moved. He had a wild glimpse of huge claws stretched far out of their pads and of feral yellow teeth in a snarling mouth, and he was unaware that he called aloud in panic. He was unaware, too, that he had pulled the trigger, not smoothly as he had planned, but in a desperate, panicked jerk. Then, instinctively, he dropped to the ground and curled tight so that the tiger's leap would pass over him.
Lawford gasped. The echo of the pistol shot was hugely loud in the confines of the dungeon pit which suddenly reeked with the sulphurous smell of powder smoke. Hakeswill was crouching in a corner of his cell, scarce daring to look, while McCandless was mouthing a silent prayer. Sharpe was on the ground, waiting for the agony of the claws to rip him apart.
But the tiger was dying. The bullet had struck the back of the tiger's mouth. It was only a small bullet, but the force of it was sufficient to pierce through the throat's tissues and into the brain stem. Blood spattered the cell bars as the tiger's graceful leap slumped into death's collapse. It had fallen at the foot of the steps, but some terrible instinct of surging life still animated the beast and it tried to stand. Its paws scrabbled against stone and its head jerked up for a snarling second as the tail lashed, then blood surged out of its mouth, the head fell back and the beast went still.
There was silence.
The first flies came down to explore the blood spilling from the tiger's mouth. 'Oh, sweet suffering Christ, Sharpe said, picking himself up. He was shaking. 'Jesus bloody wept.
McCandless did not reprove him. The Colonel knew a prayer when he heard one.
Sharpe fetched his torn jacket, pulled the cell door wide open, then gingerly sidled past the dead tiger as though he feared the beast might come back to life. McCandless and Lawford followed him up the stone stairs. 'What about me? Hakeswill called. 'You can't leave me here. It ain't Christian!
'Leave him, McCandless ordered.
'I was planning on it, sir, Sharpe said. He found his picklock again and reached for the padlock on the outer gate. This lock was much simpler, merely a crude one-lever mechanism, and it took only seconds to snap the ancient lock open. 'Where are we going? Lawford asked.
'To ground, man, McCandless said. The sudden freedom seemed to have lifted the Colonel's fever. 'We must find somewhere to hide.
Sharpe pushed the gate outwards, then saw Mary gazing at him from a doorway across the courtyard and he smiled, then saw she was not smiling back, but was instead looking terrified. There were men with her, and they too were unmoving with fear. Then Sharpe saw why.
Three jettis were crossing the courtyard towards the dungeon cage. Three monsters. Three men with bare oiled chests and muscles like tiger thews. One carried a coiled whip while the other two were armed with hugely long spears with which they had planned to subdue the tiger before opening the prisoners' cell. Sharpe swore. He
