escort the visitor to the door, Heideck had to leave her last remark
unanswered. But, as on the threshold he again turned to bow his
farewell, his eyes met hers, and though their lips were dumb, they had
perhaps told one another more in this single second than during the
whole time of their long tete-a-tete.
VI
THE OUTRAGE
When Heideck stepped into the garden he was scarcely able to find his
way, but having taken a few steps his eyes had become accustomed to the
gloom, and the pale light of the stars showed him his path.
The garden was surrounded by an impenetrable hedge of cactus plants,
low enough to allow a tall man to look over. On having closed the
wooden gate behind him, Heideck stood and gazed back at the brightly
illuminated windows of the house. In the presence of the charming woman
he had manfully suppressed his feelings. No rash word, betraying the
tempest that this nocturnal conversation had left surging in his bosom,
had escaped his lips. He had not for a moment forgotten that she was the
wife of another, and it would be an infamy to covet her for his wife
so long as she was tied to that other. But he could not disguise from
himself the fact that he yearned towards her with a passionate love. He
was to-day, for the first time, conscious that he loved this woman
with a passion that he had never before felt for another; but there
was nothing intoxicating or pleasurable in this self-confession. It was
rather a feeling of apprehension of coming difficulties and struggles
that would beset him in his passion for this charming creature. Had she
not needed his protection, and had he not promised to remain on the spot
to assist her, he would have escaped in rapid flight from this struggle
within him. Yet, under the existing circumstances, there could be no
question of his doing this. He had only himself to blame for having
given her the right to count upon his friendship; and it was a behest
of chivalry to deserve her confidence. Incapable of tearing himself
from the place, where he knew his loved one remained, Heideck must have
stayed a quarter of an hour rooted to the spot, and just when he had
resolved--on becoming conscious of the folly of his behaviour--on
turning homewards, he perceived something unusual enough to cause him to
stay his steps.
He saw the house-door, which the Indian maid had a short time before
closed behind him, open, and in the flood of light which streamed out
into the darkness, perceived that several men dressed in white garments
hurried, closely following each other, up the steps.
Remembering Mrs. Irwin’s enigmatical references to a danger which
possibly threatened her, and seized by a horrible dread of something
about to happen, he pushed open the garden gate and rushed towards the
house.
He had not yet reached it, when the shrill cry of a woman in distress
fell upon his ear. Heideck drew the revolver he always carried from his
pocket and sprang up the steps at a bound. The door of the drawing-room,
where he had shortly before been in conversation with the Captain’s
wife, was wide open, and from it rang the cries for help, whose
desperate tones brought home to the Captain the certainty that Edith
Irwin was in the gravest peril. Only a few steps, and he saw the young
English lady defending herself heroically against three white-dressed
natives, who were evidently about to carry her off. Her light silk dress
was torn to shreds in this unequal struggle, and so great was Heideck’s
indignation at the monstrous brutality of the assailants that he did
not for a moment hesitate to turn his weapon upon the tall, wild-looking
fellow, whose brown hands were roughly clutching the bare arms of the
young lady.
He fired, and with a short, dull cry of pain the fellow reeled to the
ground. The other two, horror-stricken, let go their victim. One of them
drew his sabre from the sheath and rushed upon the German. Heideck could
not fire a second time, being afraid of harming Edith, and so he threw
the revolver down, and with a rapid motion, for which his adversary
was fully unprepared, caught the arm of the Indian which was raised to
strike. Being much more than his match in physical strength, he wrested
the sabre with a quick jerk from his grasp. The man, now defenceless,
gave up the struggle and like his companion, who had already in silent,
cat-like bounds made his escape, hurried off as fast as his legs would
carry him.
Heideck did not pursue him. His only thoughts were for Edith, and his
fears were that she had perhaps received some hurt at the hands of these
bandits. In the same moment that the violent hands of the Indians had
let her loose, she had fallen down on the carpet, and her marble-pale
face looked to Heideck as that of a dead person. Whilst, curiously
enough, neither Edith’s screams for help nor the crack of the shot had
had the effect of summoning any one of her servants to her aid, now,
when the danger was over, all of a sudden a few scared brown faces
peered in through the open door; and the peremptory order that Heideck
addressed in English to the terrified maid brought her back to her sense
of duty to her mistress.
With her assistance, Heideck carried the fainting woman to a couch, and
perceiving one of the little green flasks of lavender water, which are
never wanting in an English house, on the table, he employed the strong
perfume as well as he was able, whilst the Indian maid rubbed the soles
of her young mistress’ feet, and adopted divers other methods, well
known among the natives, of resuscitating her.
Under their joint attentions, Edith soon opened her eyes, and gazed with
bewildered looks around her. But on seeing lying on the floor the corpse
of the Indian whom Heideck had shot, her consciousness returned with
perfect clearness.
Shaking off the last traces of faintness with a firm will, she got up.
“It was you who saved me, Mr. Heideck! You risked your life for me! How
can I thank you enough?”
“Solely, madam, by allowing me to conduct you at once to the Colonel’s
house, whose protection you must necessarily claim until your
husband’s return. Whoever may have been the instigator of this hellish
plot--whether these rogues were common thieves or whether they acted on
orders, I do not feel myself strong enough, single-handed, to accept the
responsibility for your security.”
“You are right,” Edith replied gently. “I will get ready at once and go
with you--but this man here,” she added, shivering, “is he dead, or can
something be done for him?”
Heideck stooped down and regarded the motionless figure. A single look
into the sallow, drawn face, with the dilated, glassy eyes, sufficed to
assure him that any further examination was useless.
“He has got his reward,” he said, “and he has no further claim upon your
generous compassion; but is there no one to help me get the body away?”
“They are all out,” said the maid; “the butler invited them to spend a
jolly evening with him in the town.”
Edith and Heideck exchanged a significant look; neither of them now
doubted in the least that the audacious attack had been the result of
a plot to which the Indian servants were parties, and each guessed that
the other entertained the same suspicion as to who was the instigator of
the shameful outrage.
But they did not utter a syllable about it. It was just because they had
been brought as near to each other by the events of this night as fate
can possibly bring two young beings of different sex, that each felt
almost instinctively the fear of that first word which probably would
have broken down the last barrier between them. And Captain Irwin’s name
was not mentioned by either.
VII
THE MAHARAJAH
It was noon the next day when Captain Irwin stepped out of the Colonel’s
bungalow and turned towards home. The interview with his superior
officer appeared to have been serious and far from pleasant for him, for
he was very pale. Red spots were burning on his cheeks, and his deep-set
eyes flashed darkly, as though with suppressed wrath. A few minutes
later the Colonel’s horse was led to the door, and a company of lancers
under the command of a sergeant rode into the courtyard.
The commander came out in full uniform, and, placing himself at the head
of the company, galloped towards the Maharajah’s palace.
The cavalry drew up before the palace gates, and Colonel Baird shouted
out in a loud commanding voice to the servants lounging at the door that
he wished to speak to the Maharajah.
A few minutes passed, and a gorgeously attired palace official made
his appearance with the answer that His Highness could not receive at
present; the Colonel would be informed as soon as the audience could be
granted.
The commander leapt from the saddle, and with jingling spurs walked
firmly into the palace, trailing his sword noisily over the marble
floor.
“Tell the Prince I desire to see him at once,” he called out in a
threatening voice to the palace officials and servants who followed him
in evident embarrassment. It was evident that no one dare disobey such
a peremptory command. All gates flew open before the Englishman, and he
had hardly to wait a minute in the anteroom before the Prince consented
to receive him. On a small high-raised terrace of the ground floor the
Maharajah sat at luncheon. He purposely did not change his easy attitude
when the English resident approached, and the glaring look which his
dark eyes cast at the incomer was obviously intended to intimidate.
With his helmet on his head and his hand resting on his sword the
Colonel stood straight before the Prince.
“I desire to have a few words with you, Maharajah!”
“And I have instructed my servants to inform you that I am not at your
service. You see I am at luncheon!”
“That, in your case, is no reason for refusing to receive the
representative of His Britannic Majesty. The message you sent me was an
insult, which, if repeated, will have to be punished.”
In a transport of rage the Prince sprang up from his chair. He hurled an
abusive epithet into the Colonel’s face, and his right hand sought the
dagger in his belt. The attendant, who was about to serve up to his
master a ruddy lobster on a silver dish, recoiled in alarm. But the
Colonel, without moving an inch from his place, placed the silver
hunting whistle that hung from his shoulder to his mouth. Two shrill
calls, and at once the trotting of horses and the rattle of arms was
audible. The high, blue-striped turbans of the cavalry and the pennons
of their lances made their appearance under the terrace.
“Call my bodyguard!” cried the Prince, with a voice hoarse with rage.
But in a voice of icy calm the Colonel retorted, “If you summon your
bodyguard, Maharajah, you are a dead man. That would be rebellion; and
with rebels we make short shrift.”
The Prince pressed his lips together; the rage he had with the greatest
difficulty suppressed caused his body to quiver as in a paroxysm of
fever, but he had to realise that he was here the weaker, and without a
word more he fell back again into his chair.
The Colonel stepped to the balcony of the terrace.
“Sergeant Thomson!” he called down into the park.
Heavy steps were heard on the marble stairs, and the man summoned,
followed by two soldiers, stood at attention before his superior
officer.
“Sergeant, do you know the gentleman sitting at that table?”
“Yes, sir! It is His Highness the Maharajah.”
“If I gave you orders to arrest this gentleman and bring him to camp,
would you hesitate to obey?”
The sergeant regarded his superior officer as if the doubt of his loyal
military obedience astonished him. He at once gave the two soldiers who
were with him a nod and advanced a step further towards the Prince, as
though at once to carry out the order.
“Stop, sergeant!” cried the Colonel. “I hope that His Highness will not
let matters go as far as that. You are perhaps ready now, Maharajah, to
receive me?”
The Indian silently pointed to the golden chair at the other end of
the table. At a sign from the Colonel the sergeant and the two soldiers
withdrew.
“I have a very serious question to put to you, Maharajah.”
“Speak!”
“Last evening, during Captain Irwin’s absence, several rascals entered
his house with the intention of committing an act of violence on
the person of the Captain’s wife. What do you know about the matter,
Maharajah?”
“I do not understand, Colonel. What should I know?”
“Perhaps you would be well advised to try and remember. Do you mean to
tell me that you now hear of this business for the first time?”
“Certainly! I have not heard a word about it until now.”
“And you have not been told that one of the assailants who was killed on
the spot was one of your servants?”
“No. I have a great many servants, and I am not responsible for their
actions, if they are not done by my orders.”
“But this is exactly what I believe to have been the case. You will
hardly expect me to believe that one of your servants would have dared
to make such an attack on his own initiative. Unfortunately, the other
villains have escaped, but one of them left behind him a sabre belonging
to a man in your bodyguard.”
It was evident that the Maharajah had a hard struggle to keep his
composure. Endeavouring to conceal his rage behind a supercilious smile,
he answered--
“It is beneath my dignity, Colonel, to answer you.”
“There can be no question of dignity justifying you in a refusal to
answer the British resident, when he demands it. You are dealing not
with an ordinary British officer, but with the representative of His
Majesty the Emperor of India. It is your duty to answer, as it is mine
to question you. A refusal might have the most serious consequences for
Your Highness; for the Government Commissioners that would be despatched
from Calcutta to Chanidigot on my report might be but little impressed
by your dignity.”
The Indian set his teeth and a wild passionate hate flashed from his
eyes, but, at the same time, he probably reflected that he would not
have been the first of the Indian princes to be deprived of the last
remnant of sham sovereignty for a paltry indiscretion.
“If you consider it necessary to make a report to Calcutta, I cannot
prevent your doing so; but I should think that the Viceroy would
hesitate before giving offence to a faithful ally of England, and at
the very moment when he has to ask him to despatch his contingent of
auxiliary forces.”
“Since you refer to this matter--whom have you appointed to command your
force?”
“My cousin, Tasatat Maharajah.”
“And when will he start?”
“In about four weeks, I hope.”
The officer shook his head.
“That would be much longer than we can allow. Your force is to join my
detachment, and I am starting at latest in a fortnight from now.”
“You are asking what is impossible. At present we have not a sufficient
number of horses, and I do not know where to procure two thousand camels
in such a short time; and I have not nearly enough ammunition for the
infantry.”
“The requisite ammunition can be provided by the arsenal at Mooltan and
debited to your account, Highness. As for the horses and camels,
you will, no doubt, be able to furnish them in time, if you take the
trouble. I repeat that in a fortnight all must be ready. Do not forget
that the punctual execution of these orders is in a way an earnest of
your fidelity and zeal. Every unwarranted delay and all equivocation on
your part will be fatal to you.”
The emphasis with which these words were spoken showed how seriously
they were meant, and the Maharajah, whose yellow skin had for a moment
become darker, silently inclined his head.
Colonel Baird rose from his seat.
“As to the affair touching Mrs. Irwin, I demand that a thorough
investigation shall be immediately set on foot, and require that it
shall be conducted with unsparing rigour, without any underhand tricks
and quibbles. The insult that has been offered by some of your subjects
to an officer of His Majesty and a British lady is so heinous that not
only the criminals themselves, but also the instigators of the crime,
must be delivered up to suffer their well-merited punishment. I allow
you twenty-four hours. If I do not receive a satisfactory report from
you before the expiry of this time, I shall myself conduct the inquiry.
You may rest assured that the information required will then be obtained
within the shortest space of time.”
He made a military bow and descended the steps of the terrace, this
time taking the shortest way. The cavalry dashed off amid a jingling of
swords and accoutrements. The Maharajah followed their departure with
lowering, flashing eyes. He then ordered his servant to fetch his body
physician, Mohammed Bhawon. And when, a few minutes later, the lean,
shrivelled little man, with his wrinkled brown face and penetrating
black eyes, dressed entirely in white muslin, was ushered into his
presence, he beckoned to him graciously, inviting him to be seated by
him on the gold-embroidered cushion.
A second imperious wave of the hand dismissed the attendant. Placing his
arm confidentially round the neck of the physician, the Maharajah talked
long and intimately to him in carefully hushed tones--but in a friendly
and coaxing manner, as one talks to someone from whom one demands
something out of the way, his eyes flashing the while with passionate
rage and deadly hate.
VIII
THE PAMIRS
In vain did Heideck, on the day following the night-attack, wait for a
message from Edith, giving him an opportunity of seeing her again. He
was prepared to be taken to task by Irwin on account of his evening
visit at the villa. But the Captain did not show himself.
In the early morning Heideck had been summoned to the Colonel to report
on the incident of the preceding night. The conversation had been short,
and Heideck gained the impression that the Colonel observed a studied
reserve in his questions.
He evidently desired the German to believe that in his own conviction
they had only to deal with bold burglars, who had acted on their own
responsibility. He mentioned quite incidentally that the dead man
had been recognised as one of the Maharajah’s bodyguard. To Heideck’s
inquiry whether the killing of the man could involve him in difficulties
with the civil authorities, the Colonel answered with a decisive--
“No. You acted in justifiable self-defence in shooting the fellow
down. I give you my word, you will neither be troubled about it by the
authorities nor by the Maharajah.”
His inquiry after Mrs. Irwin’s health was also satisfactorily answered.
“The lady, I am glad to say, is in the best of health,” said the
Colonel. “She has admirable courage.”
The next morning again, Captain Irwin neither made his appearance nor
sent any message. Heideck and Prince Tchajawadse were sitting in their
bungalow at breakfast discussing the important intelligence brought by
the morning papers.
The India Times declared that Russia had infringed the treaties of
London by her invasion of Afghanistan, and that England was thus
justified, nay compelled, to send an army to Afghanistan. It was
earnestly to be hoped that peaceful negotiations would succeed in
averting the threatened conflict. But should the Russian army not return
to Turkestan, England also would be obliged to have recourse to strong
measures. An English force would occupy Afghanistan, and compel the
Ameer, as an ally of the Indian Government, to fulfil his obligations.
To provide for all contingencies, a strong fleet was being fitted out in
the harbours of Portsmouth and Plymouth to proceed to the Baltic at the
right moment.
“Still more significant than this,” said Heideck, “is the fact that the
two and a half per cent. Consols were quoted at ninety yesterday on the
London Exchange, while a week ago they stood at ninety-six. The English
are reluctant to declare openly that war has already commenced.”
“War without a declaration of war,” the Prince agreed. “In any case we
must hurry, if we are to get over the frontier. I should be sorry to
miss the moment when fighting begins in Afghanistan.”
“I can feel with you there. But there really is no time to lose.”
“If you agree, we will start this very day. At midnight we shall arrive
at Mooltan, and at noon to-morrow in Attock. To-morrow night we can be
in Peshawar. There we must get our permits to cross the Khyber Pass.
The sooner we get through the Pass the better, for later we might have
difficulties in obtaining permission.”
“I hope you are carrying nothing suspicious about you--charts, drawings,
or things of that sort.”
The Russian smilingly shook his head. “Nothing but Murray’s Guide, the
indispensable companion of all travellers; I should take good care
not to take anything else. As for you, of course you need not be so
careful.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a German. There is no war with Germany, but I should at
once be in danger of being arrested as a spy.”
“I really believe that neither of us need fear anything, even if we
were recognised as officers. I should think that there are quite as many
English officers on Russian territory at this very moment as Russian
officers here in India.”
“As long as war has not been actually declared, it is customary to be
civil to the officers of foreign Powers, but, under the circumstances,
I would not rely upon this. The possibility of being drumhead
court-martialled and shot might not be remote. Luckily, not even
Roentgen rays could discover what a store of drawings, charts, and
fortress plans I keep in my memory. But you have not answered my
question yet, comrade!--are you prepared to start to-day?”
“I am sorry, but I must ask you not to count upon me; I should prefer to
stay here for the present.”
On noting the surprise of the Russian he continued: “You yourself said
just now that I, as a German, am in a less precarious position. Even if
I am recognised as an officer, it is hardly probable that I should
find myself in serious difficulties. At least, not here, where there is
nothing to spy into.”
He did not betray that it was solely the thought of Mrs. Irwin that had
suddenly made him change his plans. And the Russian evidently did not
trouble further about his motives.
“Do you know what my whole anxiety is, at this moment?” he asked. “I am
afraid of Germany seizing the convenient opportunity, and attacking
us in our rear. Your nation does not love ours; let us make no mistake
about it. There was a time when Teutonism played a great role in our
national life. But all that has changed since the days of Alexander the
Third. We also cannot forget that at the Berlin Congress Master Bismarck
cheated us of the prize of our victory over the Turks.”
“Pardon me, Prince, for contradicting you on this point. The fault
was solely Gortchakow’s in not understanding how to follow up his
opportunity. The English took advantage of that. No doubt Bismarck would
have agreed to every Russian demand. But I can assure you that there
is no question of national German enmity against Russia, in educated
circles especially.”
“It is possible, but Russia will always consider this aversion as a
factor to be taken into account at critical moments, otherwise the
treaty with France would probably never have been made. I, for one, can
hardly blame your nation for entertaining a certain degree of hostility
towards us. We possess diverse territories geographically belonging more
naturally to Germany. If your country could take eight million peasants
from your superfluous population and settle them in Poland it would be
a grand thing for her. Were I at the head of your Government I should,
first, with Austria’s consent, seize Russian Poland, and then crush
Austria, annex Bohemia, Moravia, Carinthia, Styria and the Tyrol as
German territory, and limit the Austrian dynasty to Transleithania.”
Heideck could not help smiling.
“Those are bold fancies, Prince! Rest assured that nobody in Germany
seriously entertains such plans.”
“Strange, if that is so. I should think it would seem the most natural
thing for you. What, then, do you mean by a German Empire, if the most
German countries do not belong to it? Do you not consider the population
of Austria’s German provinces is more closely related to you than that
of North-East Prussia? But possibly you are too conscientious and too
treaty-abiding to carry out a policy of such dimensions.”
Heideck, not unintentionally, turned the conversation back to the
original subject of discussion.