The difficulty, Kunwar Singh had anticipated, would lie in persuading the guards to unlock the gate of the dungeon's outer cage. Once that gate was open the rest should be easy, for his men could swiftly overwhelm the guards and so find the key to McCandless's cell. Kunwar Singh had decided that his best course was simply to pretend to an authority he did not have and claim to bear a summons from the Tippoo himself. Arrogance went far in Mysore and he would give it a try. Otherwise he must order his men to use their muskets to blast the cage doors down and he feared that such a commotion would bring guards running from the nearby Inner Palace.

But when he reached the cells he found there were no guards. The space within the outer cage and around the stone steps was empty. A soldier on the inner wall above the cells saw the small group standing uncertainly beside the dungeon gate and assumed they had come to fetch the guards. 'They've already gone!' the man shouted down. 'Ordered to the walls. Gone to kill some Englishmen.'

Kunwar Singh acknowledged the man, then rattled the gate, vainly hoping that the padlock would fall off. 'You don't want to go inside,' the helpful man called down, 'the tiger's on duty.'

Kunwar Singh instinctively stepped back. The soldier above him lost interest and went back to his post as Kunwar Singh stepped back to the gate and tugged a second time at the huge padlock. 'Too big to shoot open,' he said. 'That lock will take five or six bullets, at least.'

'We can't get inside?' Mary asked.

'No. Not without attracting the guards.' He gestured towards the palace. The thought of the tiger had made him nervous and he was wondering whether he would do better to wait until the assault started and then, under the cover of its huge noise, try to shoot the padlock away from the gate, then kill the tiger. Or else just give up the errand. The courtyard stank of sewage, and the smell only reinforced Kunwar Singh's presentiments of failure.

Then Mary stepped to the bars. 'Richard?' she called. 'Richard!'

There was a momentary pause. 'Lass?' The answer came at last.

Kunwar Singh's nervousness increased. There were a dozen soldiers on the inner wall immediately above him, and a score of other people were peering through windows or above stable doors. No one was yet taking a suspicious interest in his party, but it seemed likely that someone of true authority would soon pass by the dungeons. 'We should leave,' he hissed to Mary.

'We can't get inside!' Mary called to Sharpe.

'Have you got a gun, lass?' Sharpe called back. Mary could not see him, for the outer cage was far enough back from the dungeon steps to hide the cells.

'Yes.'

'Chuck it down here, lass. Chuck it as close to the bottom of the steps as you can. Make sure the bugger's not cocked.'

Kunwar Singh rattled the gate again. The sound of the clangourous iron prompted a growl from the pit and a moment later the tiger loped up the steps, stared blank-eyed at Kunwar Singh, then turned and went back to the remnants of a half-carcass of goat. 'We can't wait!' Kunwar Singh insisted to Mary.

'Throw us a gun, love!' Sharpe shouted.

Mary groped inside the folds of her sari to find the ivory-inlaid pistol that Appah Rao had given to her. She pushed it through the bars and then, very nervously, she tried to gauge how much effort would be needed to toss the gun into the pit, but not too far from the bottom of the steps. Kunwar Singh hissed at her, but made no move to stop her.

'Here, Richard!' she called, and she tossed the gun underarm. It was a clumsy throw, and the pistol fell short of the steps, but its momentum carried it over the edge and Mary heard the gun clattering down the stone stairs.

Sharpe cursed, for the pistol had lodged three steps up. 'Have you got another one?' he shouted.

'Give me your pistol,' Mary said to Kunwar Singh.

'No! We can't get in.' Kunwar Singh was close to panic now and his six men had been infected by his fear. 'We can't help them,' he insisted.

'Mary!' Sharpe called.

'I'm sorry, Richard.'

'Not to worry, lass,' Sharpe said, staring at the pistol. He did not doubt he could pick the lock open, but could he reach the gun before the tiger reached him? And even if he did, would one small pistol ball stop eight feet of hungry tiger. 'Jesus Christ!' he swore.

'Sharpe!' McCandless chided him.

'I was praying, sir. Because this is a right bugger-up, sir, a right bugger-up.' Sharpe took out the picklock and unfolded one of the shafts. He put his hands through the bars and grabbed hold of the padlock, then explored the big keyhole with the hooked shaft. It was a crude lock that ought to be easy to open, but the mechanism was not properly oiled and Sharpe feared that the picklock might snap rather than move the levers aside. Lawford and McCandless watched him, while from across the corridor Hakeswill stared with huge blue eyes.

'Go on, boy, good boy,' Hakeswill said. 'Get us out of here, boy.'

'Shut your ugly face, Obadiah,' Sharpe muttered. He had moved one lever, now only the second remained, but it was much stiffer than the first. Sweat was pouring down Sharpe's face. He was working half blind, unable to pull the padlock to an angle where he could see the keyhole. The tiger had paused in its eating to watch him, intrigued by the hands protruding through the bars. Sharpe manoeuvred the picklock, felt the hook lodge against the lever and gently pressed. He pressed harder, and suddenly the hook scraped off the lever's edge and Sharpe swore.

And just as he swore the tiger twisted and sprang. It attacked with appalling speed, a sudden unleashing of coiled muscles that ended with a swipe of one unsheathed paw as it tried to hook a claw into the protruding hands. Sharpe recoiled, dropping the picklock, and cursing as the tiger's slash missed him by inches. 'Bastard,' he swore at the beast, then he stooped and reached through the bars for the fallen picklock that lay a foot away. He moved fast, but the tiger was faster, and this time Sharpe got a deep scratch on the back of his hand.

'Sergeant Hakeswill,' Sharpe hissed. 'Get the beast over on your side.'

'Nothing I can do!' Hakeswill protested, his face twitching. The tiger was watching Sharpe. It was only two 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.