AN ATTEMPT AT DESERTION.
After their disappointment with regard to the guns, the enemy made
no further effort to take the fort by storm. They seemed quite content
to substitute a blockade for a siege, but this circumstance did not
tend to raise the spirits of the garrison, since it showed that there
was as yet no sign of any movement for their relief. Sniping was
practised indefatigably on both sides whenever opportunity offered,
and a stranger standing on the cleared ground between the fort and
General Keeling’s house might have imagined the one and the other
alike deserted, so skilful had the occupants become in taking
advantage of cover, save when a puff of smoke and the crack of a rifle
on the right met with an immediate response in kind from the left. The
enemy were not now occupying the opposite bank of the canal in force,
but it was a favourite station for their boldest sharp-shooters, who
took up their posts under cover of darkness, and from the shelter of
rough sangars or dikes of earth, fired at the water-carriers as they
clambered up and down to the water-gate with their skins and earthen
pots. The great fall in the level of the water gave much encouragement
to this form of attack, and it was found necessary to erect a screen
of tent-cloth, supported on poles, to protect the steps cut in the
wall below the gate. On the rampart above two or three good marksmen
were always posted, watching for the moment at which the sniper was
forced to betray his presence for an instant, and the post was much
coveted. Any duty that promised a little excitement was eagerly
welcomed, for the closeness of their quarters and the lack of exercise
were telling upon the health and spirits of the garrison. The wounded
did not recover as they ought, and the mortality among the native
refugees was very heavy. Moreover, the stock of provisions accumulated
under difficulties by Colonel Graham and Dick was diminishing with
alarming speed. Rations were served out to all with the strictest
economy, and Mabel and Flora, observing a daily diminution in the
numbers of the horses stabled in the outer court, refrained heroically
from any remark on the shape of the joints set before them. The two
girls were quite accustomed to a state of siege by this time, had
ceased to start at the whirr and ping of a bullet, and took cover as
naturally as the oldest trooper in the regiment when they left the
shelter of their rooms. As Mabel said one day to Colonel Graham, the
strangest thing was the remembrance that they had ever known a time
when the siege was not going on.
“And that you will know a time when it is over, I hope?” he responded.
“I only wish I saw any chance of our being relieved, or even of being
able to cut our way through, but the next move lies undoubtedly with
the enemy.”
This move, when it came, was an unexpected one. In the course of a
dark night, a scuffle close under the eastern wall became audible to
the sentries, who fired immediately in the direction of the sound, to
hear in return a scream which was unmistakably a woman’s. The garrison
stood to arms, but no attack was made, and no explanation of the
mysterious occurrence offered itself. In the morning, however, a white
flag appeared in the street next to General Keeling’s house, and when
Colonel Graham replied to it from one of the gateway turrets, two
unarmed men made their appearance, dragging with them a woman, her
clothes and veil torn and blood-stained. Having escorted her into the
middle of the cleared space, they left her there, and ran back to
shelter, while she sank on her knees and raised one hand in an
entreaty for mercy. Despite her agony of fear, however, she kept her
veil wrapped closely round her.
“Evidently a _pardah_ woman,” said Colonel Graham to Mr Burgrave, “but
what she is doing here I can’t make out.”
He shouted some words of encouragement, and the woman came a little
nearer, and made signs that she desired to be admitted into the fort.
“No, no; can’t have that,” cried the Colonel. “You must say what you
have to say from where you are.”
“Nay, sahib,” came in a quavering voice, “I am not used to speak
before so many men. Thy servant belongs to the household of the Hasrat
Ali Begum, and is sent with a message to the doctor lady.”
“Tell me your message, by all means, and I will give it her.”
“Nay, sahib, suffer thy servant to see her, for I have gone through
great perils to bring the message. Last night I crept close up to the
walls, hoping to speak with some who might let me in, but the servants
of my mistress’s son tracked and seized me, and thy sowars shot at me
from the rampart,” and she thrust forth a roughly bandaged foot. “And
this morning Syad Bahram Khan said that since I came to bear my
mistress’s message, I should now bear his, and tell thee, sahib, what
terms he offers thee.”
“And what may they be?”
“He says, sahib--‘The siege has now lasted many days, and my followers
are fast becoming discontented and stealing away from me. I have
learnt to honour the valour of the sahibs, and but for the rancour of
my uncle, the Amir Sahib, I would have made terms with them long
before. He has sworn to have the life of every white man in the fort,
and it is only because he is now away at Nalapur that I can offer them
safety. The fort I must have, to save my face in the sight of my
followers; but if it is surrendered to me to-day, before my uncle
returns in his cruelty, thirsting for blood, I will send all the
sahibs and the women and children away to Rahmat-Ullah, and by
nightfall they shall be so far off that there is no pursuing them. The
troopers also may go where they will, but I cannot promise them
safe-conduct, for I have not beasts to mount them all, and they might
chance to be overtaken. These terms I offer out of my honour for the
sahibs, and my hatred for the cruelty of my uncle.’”
“And does the Hasrat Ali Begum advise us to accept them?” asked
Colonel Graham dryly.
“She has not heard of them, sahib. I have but spoken as I was
commanded.”
“Well, I don’t think we need deliberate long over this,” said the
Colonel to Mr Burgrave. “It’s clear that Bahram Khan is trying to
hedge, and throwing the blame of all that has happened upon his uncle.
From that I should judge that the relieving force is in motion at
last. When the inevitable attack was made upon us as soon as we were
outside the fort, the Amir would get the credit of the massacre, and
Bahram Khan would pose as the innocent and peaceable dupe of his
uncle’s treachery. He might even contrive to wipe out the Amir in his
honest wrath, and appear red-handed at Rahmat-Ullah as our
avenger--and also as the natural heir to the throne of Nalapur.”
“You don’t leave him many shreds of character,” said the Commissioner
stiffly.
“I forgot he was a friend of yours. No; but seriously, you wouldn’t
dream of trusting him? Of course not. The terms are refused, O servant
of the Begum Sahib. Now, what about that message of yours for the
doctor lady?”
“It is for her ear alone, sahib.”
“She is ill, and cannot come to the wall.”
“Suffer me to see her, sahib, if only for a moment. My mistress bade
me inquire of her health, for she has heard rumours that grieve her
heart.”
“I’m sorry it’s impossible to admit you. Mrs North is doing well; you
must be satisfied with that.”
“Nay, but let me see her, sahib. I dare not go back with my mistress’s
commands undone.”
“It is impossible. Have you any further message?”
“I must see her. It is urgent--most necessary. Sahib, suffer me to
come in.”
“Impossible. Get back to your own side as fast as you can.”
“What could she have had to say?” asked Mr Burgrave curiously, as they
left the turret.
“Can’t tell. Some native remedy or charm to give her, perhaps--which
might have been poison. We have no proof that the woman comes from the
Begum. She may be in reality a spy of Bahram Khan’s.”
The news of the woman’s mysterious mission, and her importunity,
spread quickly through the fort, but the occupants of the inner
courtyard had little time to wonder over it, for Georgia’s condition
seemed to have taken a sudden turn for the worse. After a troubled
night she had waked in an agitated, excited state, unable to bear the
slightest noise in the room. She lay listening anxiously, asking the
rest at intervals if they did not hear something, and they tried in
vain to find out what it was she thought they ought to hear. They left
her alone at last, since their presence seemed only to increase the
strain upon her mind, and Mabel remained in the outer room with the
door ajar. Peeping into the inner room after a time, she saw, to her
delight, that her sister-in-law had dropped asleep, but very soon a
cry summoned her back. Georgia was sitting up in bed with flushed
cheeks.
“He _is_ here, then,” she said. “I knew I heard his voice. Bring him
in, Mab. How can you keep him outside, when you know he is longing to
see me?”
“There’s no one outside. What do you mean, Georgie?” asked Mabel,
astonished.
“Why, Dick, of course! I have heard him calling me all day, though it
sounded so far off, but now it’s quite close--in my ear, almost.
There, don’t you hear?”
Mabel strained her ears, but in vain. “There’s nothing, really,” she
said.
“Oh, you must be deaf! Go and see, Mab. Don’t keep him waiting. I know
he wants me. Why doesn’t some one tell him where I am?”
To satisfy her, Mabel went out into the verandah and looked round,
naturally without result. She could scarcely bring herself to return
and assure Georgia that the voice was purely a hallucination, but it
was a relief to find that she did not seem seriously disappointed. A
new idea had come into her mind.
“What was Dr Tighe or some one saying about the Eye-of-the-Begum? that
she wanted to see me? She was bringing me a message from him.”
“Oh, Georgie!” sighed Mabel, in hopeless despair.
“He wants me. I must go to him. Tell Rahah to get my things ready.”
“But you can’t get up, you know. Besides, the enemy are all round
outside.”
“I tell you I must go to him. I wish you wouldn’t put absurd obstacles
in the way, Mab. He wants me. He is calling me. Of course I shall go.”
“Yes, you shall,” said poor harassed Mabel; “only lie quiet just now.
You can’t possibly go to-night, you know. Try to sleep a little.”
She succeeded in inducing her to lie down, but whenever she crept in
to look at her Georgia was staring into the darkness with wide-open,
brilliant eyes. Not even the baby could divert her thoughts from the
conviction that had taken possession of her mind, and Mabel decided to
sleep in the outer room, in case her help should be needed during the
night. All passed quietly, however, although she had a dream that
Rahah came and looked at her very earnestly, even entreatingly, but
said nothing. In the morning, after glancing at Georgia, and finding
her apparently asleep, she went to her own room to dress. She was just
putting the finishing touches to her hair when she saw Rahah come out
with a large bundle in one hand and a box in the other, and after
looking anxiously around, turn away as if disappointed, and disappear
down the passage.
“That looked like Georgie’s travelling medicine-chest. What can she be
doing with it?” said Mabel to herself. “And a bundle of clothes-- Oh,
what----”
A terrible thought had seized her, and she ran along the darkened
verandah. The outer room was in a state of wild confusion, as if Rahah
had been making a hasty selection from among her mistress’s
possessions, and in the inner room Georgia was sitting on the side of
the bed, trying to dress.
“Georgie! what are you doing?” gasped Mabel.
“I am going to Dick. He wants me,” answered Georgia, looking at her
with unseeing eyes.
“But you can’t move. You’re not fit for it. Georgie, do be sensible.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m perfectly well, only so ridiculously
weak. But Dick is calling me, and I am going to him.”
Mabel gazed at her in despair, then seized the baby, which was wrapped
up in a shawl, ready for travelling. “You won’t go without him, I
suppose, and I’ll take good care that you don’t go with him,” she
said, while Georgia looked at her without a trace of comprehension in
her gaze. “Just sit there until I come back.”
She ran down the passage with the baby in her arms, and glanced at the
archway in the wall which led to the water-gate. The gate was open,
and Ismail Bakhsh was hard at work inflating one of the skins which
had been used to support the raft. Rahah was standing near him with
her parcels, looking helplessly round, apparently for some one to whom
to appeal.
“They have waited until Ismail Bakhsh is on guard, and the sentries on
the wall are to look the other way while he ferries them over in
turn,” said Mabel to herself. “Why, it would kill Georgie! Well, they
won’t start while I have the boy. Oh,” she cried, coming suddenly upon
a European, “please tell somebody to go and arrest Ismail Bakhsh. He
has got the water-gate open, and he is going to desert.”
Long before she had reached the end of her sentence she recognised
that it was Mr Burgrave to whom she was speaking. They had scarcely
met since the dreadful night of anxiety when she had given him back
his ring, and she noticed with a shock how gray and shrunken he
looked. It was the hardships of the siege, she tried to assure
herself, that had made him old before his time.
“I will certainly give your message to the officer on guard,” he
answered politely. “We can’t allow this sort of thing to begin.”
He went on his way with a bow, and she stood looking after him.
Hearing a click, she glanced up hastily. The sentry on the rampart
above her was kneeling down and taking deliberate aim with his carbine
at the unconscious Commissioner. She knew the man; he was Ismail
Bakhsh’s son Ibrahim, and she saw that the moment Mr Burgrave quitted
the shelter of the wall in crossing the courtyard he would be at his
mercy. But in her arms was a talisman, and she ran forward and caught
up the Commissioner, who looked round at her in astonishment.
“Oh, do take him in your arms for a moment!” she cried, stammering in
her eagerness. “You have never held him, and his mother will be so
pleased.”
Taken completely by surprise, Mr Burgrave allowed the baby to be
placed in his arms, and actually carried it across the court, while
Mabel, at his side, was shaking with apprehension. She knew that he
was safe while he held that precious bundle, but she was by no means
sure that Ibrahim would not resent her interference with his plans to
the extent of shooting her instead. This physical terror kept her from
feeling the awkwardness of the situation, and she did not even realise
it until Mr Burgrave paused at the archway leading into the outer
court, and looked into her face as he gave her back the baby.
“You will laugh at me for saying that I had a little hope left until
to-day,” he said. “Now I see how foolish I was. In spite of the siege
and all your troubles, you look now as you did when I first knew you,
and it is simply because you are free from me. Don’t be afraid; I
shall not persecute you. All I care for is to see you happy in your
own way.”
There was little inclination to laughter in Mabel’s mind as she
returned slowly to Georgia’s room. She had scarcely reached it when
Rahah came flying along the passage to tell her mistress that
Woodworth Sahib and ten men had come and taken Ismail Bakhsh prisoner,
and there was therefore no hope of escaping to-day. Georgia hardly
seemed to hear. She was still sitting where Mabel had left her,
sobbing feebly and too weak to move, and they were able to get her
into bed again before Dr Tighe came bustling in.
“Now, now, what’s this I hear?” he asked severely. “Will you think,
Mrs North, that we’ve always regarded you as a sensible woman, and
that the Major was proud of your judgment? You wouldn’t be in earnest
just now?”
“Oh, let me go!” implored Georgia. “I can’t hear what you say, doctor.
Dick’s voice comes in between. He wants me so much. Oh, Dick, I would
come, but they won’t let me.”
“This won’t do,” said Dr Tighe. “Must humour her, poor thing!” he
muttered behind his hand to Mabel. “Now, Mrs North, assuming that the
Major is delirious, and crying out for you----”
“Torture!” interjected Georgia, in a high, hard voice.
“No, no! Nonsense, nonsense! Why, it’s biting out his tongue he’d be
before the devils would get a word out of him. But supposing he’s ill,
now--would it be any pleasure to him to know that you had killed
yourself and the child trying to get to him? You know it wouldn’t.
’Twould be a bitter grief to him all his days. And for that reason
you’ll take this, and lie down quietly, and try to get some sleep.”
“It won’t drown his voice,” said Georgia, accepting the medicine, but
looking up with such misery in her eyes that it almost destroyed the
doctor’s self-control. “I should hear that if I were dead.”
“Oh, doctor,” murmured Mabel, drawing him into the outer room, “if she
should be right, after all! What can we do?”
He looked at her in astonishment. “My dear Miss North, you mustn’t let
yourself be led away by that poor soul’s ravings. After such a happy
married life as hers, it would be strange indeed if she could give her
husband up for lost without a struggle. But what possible hope is
there of his being alive? If he was a prisoner, don’t you think Bahram
Khan would have made use of him long ago to torment us? Don’t make it
worse for her by encouraging her to hope.”
“No, no, of course not,” said Mabel impatiently. “But all the same,”
she muttered to herself as he left her, “something ought to be done,
and I know the man to do it.”
Half-an-hour later she went out into the verandah to meet Fitz
Anstruther, who had come as usual to inquire after Georgia and the
baby, and beckoned him to a secluded corner, where two packing-cases
served as seats.
“Do you know,” she said eagerly, without giving him time to speak, “I
am beginning to believe that Dick is really alive. Georgia is so
absolutely convinced he isn’t dead, and I can’t think she is
altogether mistaken. Is there no way of finding out?”
“You don’t mean by making inquiries, surely? The Amir certainly
believes he is dead, and Bahram Khan chooses us to think that he does
too, so we should get no good out of them.”
“Yes, I quite see that, but what I have been thinking is that some one
to whom he had been kind may have hidden him away--in a house in the
mountains, or one of the camps of the wandering tribes--and he may be
lying there ill all this time.”
“I only wish he might, but in that case I’m afraid it would simply be
his death-warrant if we found out where he was. Bahram Khan would
still be between us and him, you see.”
“Yes, but there’s another chance still. Suppose he is in Bahram Khan’s
hands, after all, but too badly wounded to be moved? Bahram Khan would
know that he could not make use of him without showing him, and that
he would be no good to him dead. So what if he is keeping him prisoner
just with that in view--to produce him when he gets better, and offer
to give him up if we surrender the fort? Yes, the more I think it
over, the more I feel certain that it must be that.”
“And what then?” asked Fitz, as she paused eagerly.
“Why then, don’t you see, if we once knew that he was a prisoner, and
where he was kept, a force could go out and rescue him, as they did
the guns. There isn’t a man that would not volunteer, and then he
would be saved.”
“But how are we to find out whether he is a prisoner?”
“Oh, surely you must know! Don’t pretend to be so stupid. Some one
must go and see--dress up as a native, and get into the enemy’s camp.”
He laughed. “Curiously enough, the Colonel was talking of something of
the kind this very morning. He wants to know whether there is really a
rumour among the enemy about a relieving force.”
“And who is to go?”
“Who? Oh, I think that old _daffadar_ of Haycraft’s, Sultan Jān, was
the man pitched upon at last. He is the foxiest old beggar alive, and
less known about here than most of our fellows.”
“Only Sultan Jān?” in deep disappointment. “But you are dark--you
know the language so well--you are such a good scout--you are going?”
“I, Miss North? Why in the world----”
“To find Dick, because you and he are such friends--because I ask
you.”
“I am very much honoured, but surely the Commissioner is the natural
person----”
“The Commissioner would be too lame to go,” cried Mabel, in confusion,
“and even if he wasn’t, I couldn’t ask him.” Fitz’s look of surprise,
less for the fact than for her mention of it, reminded her that her
words must sound strangely in his ears. “Perhaps I ought to explain,”
she stammered. “I--I am not engaged to Mr Burgrave now.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Fitz slowly, readjusting his ideas as he spoke.
Only the night before he had heard Haycraft say to Flora that the
Commissioner and Miss North must have quarrelled, for they had not
spoken for days, and she was not wearing his ring. Certain hopes of
Fitz’s own had sprung up anew at that moment, only to be dashed to
earth again by Flora’s confident assurance that the estrangement could
be only a temporary one. She was certain that the engagement was not
broken off, or Mabel would have told her. Now, however, it appeared
that Flora had been mistaken.
Fitz drew a deep breath. “You want me to go in disguise and make
inquiries about your brother, because you ask me? Not so very long ago
we were discussing a certain subject, and I agreed not to mention it
again without your permission. If I go, will you give me that
permission?”
Mabel recoiled from him, aghast. “You are trying to drive a bargain
with me for Dick’s life?” she cried, in horror. “I should never have
believed it of you.”
“Oh, I am only looking at the matter in a business light. If I do your
work, I should like to be sure of my wages.”
“How can you talk in such a horrid mercenary way? It’s mean,
ungentlemanly of you to try to entrap me like this! I could not have
imagined----”
“Please let us be business-like. Only, believe me, I had no idea of
setting a trap.”
“Do you mean to say that if I refuse to let you speak to me again you
won’t go?”
“That is not the question, allow me to remark. I ask you whether, if I
go, I may enter upon the forbidden subject when I come back?”
“I believe you are going whether I say Yes or No.” She looked at him
sharply, but he did not change countenance in the least. “Why should
you take it into your head to spoil a thing that ought to be so
splendid, by tacking on an odious condition to it?”
“I am afraid you won’t find it easy to move me either by hard words or
soft ones. Is it a bargain?”
“If you mean that I am to promise to marry you if you go----” cried
Mabel, her eyes blazing.
“I mean nothing of the kind. That is not in the bond. If I have such a
curious fancy for being rejected by you that I am willing to accept
another refusal as the price of my services on this occasion, don’t
you think you are getting off rather cheaply on the whole?”
Mabel laughed shamefacedly. “I believe you have only been trying to
tease me all along,” she said. “Very well; it is a bargain, then.”
“There’s something rather mysterious about this attempt to desert on
the part of Mrs North’s servant,” said Colonel Graham to the
Commissioner. “The men seem to feel strongly on the subject, but I
can’t get any of them to speak out. I am not sure that it’s a case for
a court-martial, and if you would join me in an informal inquiry into
the affair, it might prevent bad feeling.”
“With pleasure. But I don’t quite see where the civil power comes in,
in a matter of this kind. Is it that the man’s status is really that
of a civilian?”
“He is a volunteer, of course”--Colonel Graham ignored the veiled
reference to what Mr Burgrave still considered his usurpation of
authority--“but as an old soldier, they all acknowledge that he is
amenable to military discipline. What I can’t make out is the notion
which seems to prevail that you have something to do with the matter,
and that’s why I should like your assistance in inquiring into it.”
“You don’t imagine that I incite your volunteers to desert, I hope?”
said the Commissioner dryly, taking his seat beside Colonel Graham, to
await the arrival of the prisoner.
“If I could think so, the mystery would be cleared up. As it is--” the
Colonel broke off suddenly, on the entrance of the prisoner with his
guards. He signed to the two sowars to retire out of earshot, and
addressed their charge. “I have sent for you privately because I hope
that things are less black than they look against you, Ismail Bakhsh.
That a man with your record should be detected in the act of deserting
to the enemy seems preposterous, and I hope you may be able to show
that your idea was to obtain information of some kind. In that case
your conduct might be passed over for once, as imprudent but not
disgraceful.”
“I have nothing to say, sahib. I had my orders.”
“Orders from Bahram Khan? Don’t trifle with me, Ismail Bakhsh. Am I to
give Mrs North the pain of knowing that her father’s orderly has been
shot as a traitor?”
The old man drew himself up. “Since I shall no longer be present to
protect the Memsahib and her son, I will tell thee the truth, sahib,
that thou mayest watch over them in my stead. My orders were from the
Memsahib herself.”
“Mrs North told you to desert?” cried the Colonel incredulously.
“The Memsahib bade me be ready to convey her and her son and her
waiting-woman out of the fort at such an hour, and I obeyed her.”
“Oh, come, this is too much! Why should Mrs North wish to leave the
fort?”
Ismail Bakhsh cast a fierce glance at Mr Burgrave, who had taken no
part in the examination. “I can guess the reason, sahib, but it is not
expedient to accuse the great ones of the earth to their faces.”
“Now what did I tell you?” asked Colonel Graham of the Commissioner.
“I said you were mixed up in it somehow. You would like to have the
matter cleared up, of course?”
“By all means,” said Mr Burgrave indifferently. The proceedings bored
him, and he did not see why both the Colonel and Ismail Bakhsh should
persist in bringing his name into them.
“Speak, and fear not,” said the Colonel.
“Thus then it is, sahib. When the Kumpsioner Sahib came to the border,
he found the name of Sinjāj Kīlin in all men’s mouths, and he hated
it, and sought to throw dirt upon it, even as an upstart king seeks to
defile the monuments of those that were before him. But there were yet
living in the land Sinjāj Kīlin’s daughter and her husband, Nāth
Sahib, to keep his name in remembrance, and therefore the Kumpsioner
Sahib hated them also. His eye was evil against Nāth Sahib, insomuch
that he blackened his face in the presence of the tribes and of the
Amir of Nalapur. Then, because that was not sufficient, he suborned
Bahram Khan to murder him”--the Commissioner, looking bored no longer,
tried to interpose a protest, but Ismail Bakhsh disregarded it
contemptuously--“and he thought all his enemies were removed, since
there was only a woman left of the whole house of Sinjāj Kīlin. But
when the Memsahib’s son was born, the Kumpsioner Sahib, remembering
the evil deed he had done, feared lest the boy should grow up to
avenge his father. The Ressaldar Ghulam Rasul can tell of the wrath
and fear with which he heard of the child’s birth, and I myself have
watched every night in the Memsahib’s verandah with my weapons, so
that no harm should come to the Baba Sahib. And seeing that the
Kumpsioner Sahib could not even dissemble his enmity so far as to come
and take the child in his arms like the other sahibs, and send
messages of good luck to the mother by the Miss Sahibs, I thought at
least that he would fight with steel and not with drugs. But the
Memsahib knew him better than I, and when this morning I received her
order to help her to escape with the child, I knew that she thought it
safer to take refuge with the Amir Sahib than to remain in this place.
And now they will kill me; but the charge of Sinjāj Kīlin’s son is
thine, sahib,” addressing the Colonel, “since the truth has been fully
made known to thee by my mouth. For what says the proverb? ‘When the
base-born mounts the throne, it is ill to be a king’s son.’ Guard well
the Baba Sahib, for the sake of Nāth Sahib, thy friend. And as for
the Kumpsioner Sahib, let him know that the men of the regiment have
sworn by the holy Kaaba and the sacred well, and by the head of the
Prophet of God, that he shall not escape. Once he has succeeded in
slaying the Baba Sahib, no land shall be distant enough to afford him
a refuge. Each man will hand down to his children the duty of slaying
him, and his sons and brothers and nephews, and all his house, even as
he has set himself to destroy the house of Sinjāj Kīlin.”
“Good heavens!” said the Commissioner, passing his hand feebly over
his damp brow, “do they actually suspect me of plotting to murder a
woman and child--and of putting poor North out of the way?”
“Suspect is not the word,” replied Colonel Graham, rather cruelly;
“they are absolutely convinced of it.”
“This is one of the things that have to be lived down, I suppose.
Well, the offence of our friend here seems to be a matter relating to
me personally. Will you kindly release him as a favour to me? I think
also it might be as well to let him do perpetual sentry-go in the
verandah he seems to affect so much--take up his quarters there, in
fact, and protect the baby from my machinations. And tell him that he
is welcome to use his weapons on me if he catches me there under
suspicious circumstances.”
“Are you inviting him to murder you?” demanded the Colonel.
“He doesn’t seem to need much invitation. But no amount of
protestations will disabuse him of his theory, and it would be a pity
to deprive Mrs North of such an attached servant. If you point out
that last fact to him, it may give me a few years longer to live.”
It was with deepening surprise and bewilderment that Ismail Bakhsh
heard his sentence, which was delivered in terms of considerable
pungency by Colonel Graham. Imprisonment or hard labour would have
seemed natural enough, death he had confidently expected; but what did
this release mean? The Colonel’s indignant vindication of Mr Burgrave
affected him not a whit; but that the man he had accused betrayed
neither guilt nor fear did cost him some searchings of heart.