THE CROWNING PROOF.
To put on the Rajah's robe over his clothes, and don the turban and
slippers, was the work of a moment for Gerrard, and he was ready before
Partab Singh had even raised himself from his cushions. The spirit of
adventure had laid hold of the young man, and the hint of peril
suggested by his host's last words was thrilling his blood, but he was
sufficiently master of himself to insist upon uttering one more warning.
"Your Highness will believe that I appreciate to the full the
confidence you are prepared to repose in me, but I must remind you that
outside Granthistan I am merely a junior officer in the Company's army.
If it should unfortunately happen that the guardianship of Kharrak
Singh and of the state devolved upon Colonel Antony by your
arrangement, it is almost certain that he would make choice of an older
man to represent him and act as regent."
"So that the army might rise against him in a week, and having slain
him and Kharrak Singh and his mother, invade British territory and
bring about a second Granthi war?" asked Partab Singh drily. "I have
made my choice of a regent, O my friend, and by reason of the power I
shall put into his hands, he will be the only man that Antni Sahib can
choose."
Recollections of Colonel Antony's heroic disregard of commonplace
safeguards in various outstanding cases made Gerrard persist. "Colonel
Antony will choose the man he thinks best fitted for the post, as in
the sight of God, Maharaj-ji, and it will be my duty to acquiesce in
his decision."
"So be it," said the Rajah, with resignation. "Only swear to me that
you will not betray the secret I am about to disclose to you to any
living being, man or woman, priest or ruler, save to my son Kharrak
Singh when he is of age and seated on the _gaddi_."
"Does it concern the state, Maharaj-ji?"
"The state might continue to endure were the secret lost, but on it
depends the safety of Kharrak Singh and the existence of my house. At
present I alone know it."
"But if any evil should befall your Highness and myself, the secret
will be lost. Suffer me to reveal it to Colonel Antony, who will hold
it sacred, and not permit the knowledge of it to influence his action."
"Nay, that were beyond the power of mortal man!" cried Partab Singh.
"To Antni Sahib least of all must the secret be revealed. But this it
is permitted you to do. Choose out an honourable man, lower than
yourself in rank--or at least not likely to be preferred before you by
your masters--and confide the secret to him under the conditions on
which I reveal it to you. Let him be one that you can trust as
yourself."
"Bob, of course!" said Gerrard in his own mind, with humorous dismay.
"It is well, Maharaj-ji. I choose my friend the officer in charge of
Darwan," he added aloud.
"And he is near at hand? It is well. Reveal the secret to him as soon
as may be. I have your promise?"
"To keep your Highness's secret? Yes. But anything further must
depend upon the will of my superiors."
"That I understand. Come, my friend."
They went down the spiral marble staircase of the tower, the Rajah
leading, and passed the guards at the foot without a word. Gerrard
noticed that they did not leave the tower by the carved marble gateway
through which they had entered, but by a smaller door at the back,
which gave access to a shaded terrace looking over the great tank. In
the shadows a boat was waiting, with one man in it, leaning on a long
pole, and when the Rajah and Gerrard had stepped in, this man punted
them out into the starlight in perfect silence, and across the lake
into a kind of backwater, covered thick with the flat leaves of the
lotus, in an opposite corner. Gerrard expected to see the boat held
fast among the twining roots, but it was evident that a channel was
kept clear, for they slid through without difficulty. The boatman
helped them to shore, still in silence, and Partab Singh touched his
own ears and mouth lightly, explaining to Gerrard that the man was deaf
and dumb, as he brought a lantern from the boat and preceded them
through a thicket of bamboos and similar plants. The place suggested
snakes, and Gerrard trod with caution, wondering what the great wall in
front, over which the sound of clanking chains came faintly, might
enclose. A small door was disclosed by the boatman's moving aside the
bushes, and the Rajah brought out a key from his girdle, and taking the
lantern from the man's hand, waved him back to the boat. The opening
of the door disclosed only darkness, but the sound of the clanking of
chains grew louder, mixed with growls and wild cries.
"Smells like a wild beast show!" mused Gerrard. "Where can we be
coming to?"
Even as he spoke, the Rajah, who had shut the door, advanced a few
steps and waved the lantern round, and the flickering light, with the
chorus of snarls that arose, showed the Englishman that they were in a
passage leading to the bottom of the great pit in which the palace
menagerie was kept. He had often looked over the parapet at the top,
generally in Kharrak Singh's company, and had the fighting animals
pointed out to him, and been promised a grand display if he was present
on the boy's next birthday, but now he was descending into the arena,
with fierce eyes glaring at the intruders from all the surrounding
cages.
"If only old Bob were here now!" he thought, as Partab Singh crossed
the sanded space, and began deliberately to unfasten the gate of one of
the largest cages.
"Enter, my friend, and fear not!" said the old man, in a tone in which
Gerrard detected a design upon the nerves. The darkness was not
reassuring, but he stepped in, to be aware immediately of a huge body
hurling itself at him through the air, with an awe-inspiring roar. A
wicked snarl from behind him at the same moment warned him against
stepping back, and he braced himself unconsciously to meet the impact.
But the animal, whatever it was, fell short of him in its spring, and
to his utter bewilderment he stood unharmed.
"They scent the stranger," said Partab Singh, turning the lantern to
show first the huge lioness, almost black in colour, which had betrayed
her presence by snarling, and then her mate, looking indescribably
sulky and wounded in his self-esteem owing to the failure of his leap.
"The gate is open; does my friend wish to return?"
It is no discredit to Gerrard that he was obliged to pull himself
together before he could reply with suitable unconcern, "Is this the
secret, then, Maharaj-ji? If not, let us go on," and the Rajah smiled
grimly.
"Keep to the middle of the den, then," he said, as he fastened the
gate. "The beasts are chained, and cannot touch you there."
That the honour of the Rajah's friendship was not without its drawbacks
was a fact that had already forced itself upon Gerrard's mind that
evening, and he now began to wonder whether its value was altogether
correspondent to the severe tests it seemed to demand. The lions might
be chained, but their chains were quite unnecessarily long, and they
walked about in a highly disquieting manner while the Rajah was busy at
the back of the den. Gerrard held the lantern, and hoped fervently
that his hand did not shake--he was too much shaken himself to know
whether it did or not. In the rear wall of the cage were several iron
rings fixed to staples, to which chains might be attached, and through
one of these Partab Singh passed his sheathed dagger, and gave it a
sharp twist. Then, removing the dagger, he began to turn the ring the
other way with his hands. When he had done this apparently an
interminable number of times, Gerrard ventured to ask if he might help.
An angry gesture of negation answered him, and he resigned himself to
wait, while the lions strained at their chains. At last a great stone
moved out like a door, and the Rajah entered, and motioned Gerrard to
follow. Closing the door with a movement of his finger, he turned to
his companion.
"The ring must be turned nine-and-twenty times, no more and no less,"
he said. "If you turn it less, no effect will follow, but if more, a
great stone descends and blocks the entrance."
He led the way along a passage lined with masonry, which turned and
twisted bewilderingly. At one point there was a deep recess,
apparently intended for a window, but unfinished. Partab Singh
motioned Gerrard to place his eye at a particular spot. There was a
hole there, and to his surprise light came through. He looked into a
great room or vault in which a lamp was burning. The rays fell upon
elephant-trappings glittering with gold, jewelled bridles and
saddlecloths, robes of gold tissue or priceless shawl-fabric, and a
number of gaily painted boxes, such as the native goldsmiths used to
contain their wares, and money-changers their stock of cash.
"That is the treasury of which all men know, the entrance to which is
in the zenana," said the Rajah. "But though that were looted, and an
army glutted with the spoil, the greater treasure beyond would remain
safe and unknown."
Again he went on, until another stone moved on the pressure of a secret
spring, the action of which he explained to Gerrard, and gave entrance
to a small unlighted vault, piled with gold in ingots, bars and bricks,
and in one corner a heap of tiny skin bags containing, as he pointed
out, fine pearls and other precious stones. That the value of what was
stored here must far exceed the more obvious wealth assembled in the
larger treasury, Gerrard saw at a glance.
"You see now, O my friend, my secret store," said Partab Singh, "and by
its means you may secure my son's succeeding me in peace. When I am
dead, give large presents immediately in his name to all my Sirdars and
Komadans, at the same time distributing a largess of ten rupees per man
to the army. For this there is sufficient silver in the other
treasury, but you will do well to assemble the money-changers and
bargain with them to supply you with rupees against a portion of this
gold. The tale of the riches at your command will go abroad, and the
army will remain faithful in the hope of receiving more. Without it--I
do not deceive myself--they would sell their swords to the highest
bidder in the state or outside it, and it will also be necessary to use
it with discretion, lest their minds should be so much inflamed by the
thought of it that they should combine to seize and plunder the palace.
They would never discover the hiding-place, but my son and his mother
would meet with violence in the search. My friend sees, then, that I
look to him to act with as much wisdom as courage, and he understands
why I name him regent, since the only power that can keep my son on the
throne is in his hands."
"Pardon the question, Maharaj-ji, but is not he who must not be named
acquainted with this treasury?" asked Gerrard suddenly.
"Doubtless rumour has made him aware of its existence, but where it is
he knows no more than the talkers in the city who swear by their lord's
treasure. You and I are the sole living beings who know the secret."
Gerrard remembered a certain grim tale he had heard, according to which
every man who had taken part in the construction of the treasury had
been put to death on the completion of the work, and the piled gold
before him became hateful. "Is there any other entrance to this
labyrinth, Maharaj-ji?" he asked abruptly.
"Surely, my friend. The passage continues until it reaches the old
outer wall of the palace, and there ends with another turning stone,
concealed from those without by a tree that has struck its roots into
the masonry."
"But if that tree should be destroyed, the entrance would become
visible."
"It must not be destroyed. You must see to that, as I have done. I
gave large gifts to a fakir of great sanctity to declare that a spirit
had taken up his abode in the tree, and must on no account be
disturbed, though the people might bring offerings and venerate it from
below. Should it fall, or be thrown down by a storm, you must at once
plant a seedling or a shoot from it in the same place, sheltering the
tender plant by mats let down from the top of the wall until it has
grown sufficiently to conceal the stone. And now let us return. Stay!
my friend has refused all the gifts that I would fain have heaped upon
him, until I offer him no more in the sight of men for fear of courting
further rebuffs. Here no man sees us. Will he then take with him one
of these bags of pearls, such as any prince might desire in vain to
buy, and any queen might wear? What! I have offended him again? Say
no more, my friend; your ways are not as ours. Even to my friend I
will not offer twice what he is too proud to take. But come, for there
is more to be done to-night."
Gerrard rather wished it was not so as they retraced their steps
through the long passage and the lions' den back to the quiet garden
and the lotus-covered tank. The deaf and dumb man was waiting, and
ferried them over, and on the terrace below the tower the Rajah bade
Gerrard leave the turban and robe he had been wearing, which he did
thankfully, for the night was hot. Then, as he stood erect in his
white mess uniform in the moonlight, the old man laid his hands upon
his shoulders.
"O my friend, I have tried you with gold and with fear and with the
lust of power, and you have stood the test. Now I am about to repose
such confidence in you as hardly one man of your race has known since
the world began. You will come with me into the zenana, that the
mother of Kharrak Singh may know whom she is to trust. This I do now,
that when I am dead, you may demand admittance as by right--the right I
confer upon you--and talk with her through the curtain, thus avoiding
the danger and delay of go-betweens."
Gerrard had felt a lurking fear more than once that this crowning proof
of confidence was to be conferred upon him, but had silenced his
uneasiness by reminding himself that such a thing was almost unheard
of. One or two of those orientalised Europeans to whom the Rajah had
referred earlier in the evening had enjoyed the honour, as had one or
two British officials held in almost divine veneration, but otherwise
it had been the supreme mark of favour reserved by a ruler for his most
tried, trusted, and faithful servants. It was a sensible thing to do
in the circumstances, as Partab Singh had manoeuvred them, he owned,
but the idea shocked him almost as much as it would have done a native.
It was so incongruous.
"If Bob gets wind of this, I shall be chaffed to death!" he said to
himself, and then realised that the Rajah was waiting for a reply from
him. "I appreciate deeply this proof of your Highness's confidence,
and trust I may show myself worthy of it," he said formally, and Partab
Singh linked his arm in his and drew him along.
They went through the tower, across the courtyard, and up the steps
into the hall of audience, passing thence through rooms and corridors
till they reached a barred gate, guarded by soldiers, whose weapons
clashed angrily as they perceived Gerrard. The Rajah made a sign,
never loosing his hold on the young man's arm for a moment, and the
gates were opened from within by zenana attendants, the guards standing
rigidly with their backs to them. Inside, Gerrard knew enough of the
etiquette of the occasion to walk with his eyes cast down, and obey
every motion of the Rajah's arm, but he was aware that the darkness
seemed to be full of eyes, and the silence of whispers. They came to a
standstill at last before a pillared colonnade, with a crimson curtain
hanging behind the pillars. No light came from behind the curtain, and
Gerrard realised suddenly that he distinguished its colour by means of
a light behind him. At a word from the Rajah, two old women came
forward with flaring lamps, and stationed themselves one on each side
of Gerrard, so as to throw his face into the clearest possible relief.
Then Partab Singh spoke.
"Let the mother of Kharrak Singh look well upon this Sahib, that she
may know whom to trust. I have given him freedom of entrance here,
that he may speak with her through the curtain, and she may take
counsel with him for the welfare of her son."
There was a moment's pause, and then a muffled voice made an inaudible
reply from somewhere behind the curtain, apparently close to the
ground. The Rajah turned to Gerrard.
"The mother of Kharrak Singh clasps the feet of Jirad Sahib, and
entreats that in the evil day his virtue may be a high tower in which
she and her son can take refuge."
Gerrard sought vainly for a suitably self-deprecatory reply, but the
Rajah was equal to the occasion, and rendered his disjointed murmurs
into a polite desire that he might serve as a sturdy elephant to carry
the Rani and her son over a flooded river. The voice spoke again, and
Partab Singh turned to Gerrard.
"Is my friend yet wedded?" Gerrard shook his head. "Then the mother
of Kharrak Singh desires to be informed when he brings home a wife,
that she may send the bride her clothes and jewels."
In response to this very high honour Gerrard could only bow low, and
promise to send the desired information when the time came, and then
the appearance of the inevitable attar and pan in the hands of thickly
veiled women of apparently most discreet age announced the termination
of the interview. Partab Singh maintained his hold on Gerrard's arm
until they had returned to the hall of audience, and then detailed an
escort to guard him back to his own quarters. It was a most dissipated
hour to return home, but when Gerrard mounted to the roof, where his
bed was spread, he felt no inclination for sleep, and stood leaning on
the parapet, thinking over the events of the evening. It must be his
first care to find out what attitude Colonel Antony would adopt towards
the arrangement desired by Partab Singh, since the workings of the
Resident's mind were by no means easy to forecast. If he could meet
the Rajah face to face and hear his story, Gerrard was inclined to
think he might acquiesce. True, the addition of another infant heir
and female regent to his burden of cares would not be agreeable to him,
but the Rajput lady of royal ancestry would be a very different person
to deal with from the low-born little upstart who kept the palace and
city of Ranjitgarh agog with her stormy and transitory love affairs.
Still, if Sher Singh should have the brilliant inspiration of seeking
an interview with Colonel Antony, and having learnt a lesson from his
previous failure, present himself merely as a disinherited innocent of
pacific tendencies, it was quite likely that he would establish in the
Resident's mind a prepossession in his favour which would tell heavily
against little Kharrak Singh. Gerrard found himself planning the
letter in which he would describe the state of affairs, placing things
in their proper perspective and omitting no detail of importance, not
putting himself forward, and yet not concealing his readiness to accept
the post of Resident at Agpur if it should be thought fit to offer it
him. Both in importance and responsibility it would be considered
quite unsuitable for so young a man, he knew; but after all, Partab
Singh had chosen him, and given him unsolicited two aids to success
which were not, and could not be, in the power of any other man on
earth.
Gerrard lost himself in dreams. This miniature palace, sheltered
within the fort walls, yet standing by itself in its own garden, remote
from the rambling pile of buildings occupied by Partab Singh and his
court, would make an ideal Residency. Not for a solitary man, of
course, but the Resident at Agpur could well afford to marry. Gazing
down into the inner courtyard he saw it in the light of a shrine for
Honour. Honour walked up and down the flagged paths in her white gown,
Honour sat on the broad stone margin of the fountain and raised serious
eyes from her book at his approach--and her whole face lighted up with
a flash of welcome to him, such a flash as he had caught in Lady
Cinnamond's eyes when Sir Arthur returned unexpectedly from a distant
expedition. What blissful evenings they would spend on that broad
pillared verandah, Honour working and he reading to her, or both
together reading, writing, talking, as Colonel and Mrs Antony were wont
to do, two minds working as one, so quickly and naturally did each
supply the deficiencies of the other.
He pulled himself up sharply. Not so very many miles away was another
man dreaming similar dreams--and yet not similar, since the charms of
history and poetry and romance held no place in them. Gerrard himself
might have pleaded guilty to the charge of allowing no opening for the
cultivation of the good works which meant so much to Honour, but he
would probably have defended himself with the not uncommon maxim of his
day that looking after a husband was sufficient good works for any
woman. But Bob Charteris--who was utterly incapable of appreciating
the real Honour, who had no idea of her absolute uniqueness, and might
have fallen in love with any other woman with equal satisfaction to
himself! Bob--who could make a joke of his love and even laugh at his
lady, who would probably not mind smoking while he thought about her!
(In those days the smoker was largely considered as a pariah, if not an
enemy of the human race. Gerrard himself smoked, but he was properly
conscious that it was a weakness, and not an amiable one, and nothing
would have induced him to set himself to think of Honour with a cheroot
in his mouth.) It was Bob's rivalry that had driven him to put his
fortune to the touch by proposing to Honour when patience would better
have served his turn, and it was Bob to whose pleasure, by his own
suggestion, he must defer before speaking to her again, were he ten
times Resident at Agpur. Worst of all, it was Bob who was only too
likely to win her in the end, and not undeservedly, Gerrard knew his
friend's good points as few others did, and he did not deceive himself
as to his chances of success. At this point he broke off his musings
abruptly, and went to bed. Bob was not only superfluous, but a
positive nuisance.