direction. 'At last they have laid hold of Baji Lal and his wife, and
are bringing them here for punishment.'
"Bewildered by the suddenness of this blow, I could but watch in
helpless silence the advancing throng, with my poor friends in their
midst, their hands bound, their tottering footsteps directed by rude
shoves towards the pipul tree, the accustomed assembly place of the
villagers and the village council.
"A minute later, however, I had regained my self-possession, and when
the procession came abreast of me, I stepped in front of it and
commanded a halt. Courtesy to me as a visitor to the village was
sufficient to exact this measure of obedience. But when I demanded that
the ropes should be cut and the prisoners liberated, a storm of angry
protests was the only result.
"The leader of the crowd approached me, and in a respectful voice said
they were sorry to refuse my request, but a crime had been committed
that disgraced the whole community. The spirit of a murdered man haunted
the house of Baji Lal and Devaka, and cried to heaven for vengeance. The
villagers would never prosper if they allowed this foul deed to pass
unpunished; why, only that very morning a strange sickness had seized
some of their cattle, and two sacred cows had died in spasms of pain--an
omen from the gods that could not be disregarded.
"I saw that it was useless to argue with the man. But I made another
attempt to have the prisoners' bonds at least loosened, for I could see
that the cords bit cruelly into their arms. After some consultation this
point was conceded. Baji Lal shot at me a look of gratitude, but his
poor little wife merely used her freed hands to hide her face in the
folds of her sari.
"'Now my friends,' I cried boldly, 'this case must be properly tried.
Where is the patel?'
"I had noticed that the headman of the village was not present, and in
asking for him had in mind that he was my personal friend, so that I
might appeal to him with better success for the release of the
prisoners.
"'The patel is away on a day's journey,' cried a voice in the crowd.
"'Then must the accused be taken to the village constable,' I declared,
'and kept by him until the patel returns and the council of elders can
be properly assembled.'
"My bold assumption of authority had stilled the tumult, and to my
surprise every one now seemed willing to do my bidding.
"'Come along then,' cried several voices, as the prisoners were once
more urged forward. I kept close by their side, and when we gained the
constable's house and the staked enclosure that served as a place of
detention, I too passed within, leaving the leaders of the crowd to
guard the gateway.
"When we were alone, Baji Lal and Devaka threw themselves at my feet,
and thanked me for the aid I had rendered them.
"'My children,' I said, as I raised them up, 'were I not assured in my
own mind that there is some grievous mistake, and that you can explain
the mysterious disappearance of your guest, I should not be here by your
side. But tell me your story, and I shall advise you to the best of my
powers.'
"Baji Lal lifted his eyes, and gazed at me mournfully but fearlessly.
"'Chunda Das,' he began, 'you have known me now for many years. Have I
ever done aught to shake your confidence?'
"'Never,' I affirmed.
"'Have you ever heard me tell a lie?'
"'Never,' I again replied.
"'Well, then, you will believe me when I say that I told the truth in
declaring that the stranger went away in the night. His servant came
back all in a hurry for him, and he would not tarry even until daylight,
although I pleaded with him to stay.'
"'I believe you,' I said, for, even apart from my prior trust, the
man's look convinced me that he was speaking true words.
"'Yes, this is the simple truth,' he went on. 'And yet'----here his
voice faltered, and he glanced down pityingly on his wife crouched upon
the ground, rocking herself and wringing her hands. 'And yet I know,
_we_ know, Devaka and I, that Sheikh Ahmed has been murdered.'
"I started aghast, and involuntarily drew my garments around me.
"'Nay,' he said reproachfully, reading my unacknowledged and almost
unformed thought, 'but not at our hands, Chunda Das.'
"'Then how do you know that he is dead?' I questioned, already ashamed
that a doubt could have crossed my mind as to my friends being art and
part in such a dastardly deed. 'What makes you think so?'
"'I do not think; I know,' he said decisively. 'And I will tell you why.
The night after the Sheikh left was cold and windy, for the monsoon was
approaching. Devaka and I were sitting together, and as we listened to
the wind blowing outside she expressed the hope that our guest was
safely at his destination, for in his state of health the inclement
weather would be harmful. Before I could answer her we were startled to
hear quite close to us a faint cry. I got up and looked around, and so
did Devaka, for she is brave, my wife. But we could not find anything to
account for the disconcerting sound.
"'We sat down again, but before long we heard once more the wailing
cry, louder now and more prolonged. We started up, and this time went
outside in spite of the rain carried by the lashing wind. However, we
could discover no one--neither man nor beast. So we went in again, and
shut the door.
"'And all that night long this strange thing continued. Sometimes the
sound was softly sobbing, then it would grow to a heartbreaking wail. We
could not go to bed. Fear kept us awake, for we had come to the
conclusion that it was the spirit of Sheikh Ahmed trying to make us
understand that he had been murdered on the road.
"'Day after day, and night after night we were haunted by the cries and
sobs of this spirit. Can you wonder that our hearts grew weak from fear,
that we shunned our neighbours lest they should enter our dwelling and,
hearing these sounds, suspect that we had done some grievous wrong? That
is my story, Chunda Das.'
"And the strong man sank to the ground, as he buried his face in his
hands.
"'It is even a relief to be here,' he cried, in broken tones, 'here,
prisoners in this place of shame, because at least we are no longer
haunted by the voice of the dead Sheikh.'
"He flung his hands out in an abhorrent gesture, and raised tear-filled,
pleading eyes to mine.
"I had been listening intently to Baji Lal's story, and had watched the
changes on his impassioned face. When the tale was ended, Devaka threw
herself prone at my feet, and pressed her lips to the hem of my robe. I
was touched by her silent beseeching, though I hastily, and I fear
roughly, commanded her to arise.
"'Dear friends,' I said, 'this is indeed an extraordinary occurrence.
And how I can help you is more than I at present know. But rest assured
that I will exert myself to the utmost to remove from your heads the
infamy of such an accusation.'
"I mused awhile, then put a few questions as to the personal appearance
of the stranger, Sheikh Ahmed, and also that of his servant, the exact
hour of their departure, and the direction in which they had gone. After
learning these things, I took my leave, commending Baji Lal and his wife
to the care of the constable, whose promise that nothing would happen to
his prisoners until the patel's return I sealed with a handful of
rupees.
"This matter settled, I strolled back to the pipul tree beside the tank,
thinking that it might be useful to pick up the remarks of the
loiterers. But to my surprise I found virtually the whole village in
assembly, and to my dismay soon gathered that it was their fixed
intention to kill Baji Lal, give to Devaka the privilege of committing
suttee, and then burn down the haunted house whence the accusing sounds
came, making of their own home the funeral pyre of both victims.
"I plucked my beard in my distress; I felt so helpless. If only the
headman was here, together we might have devised something. But alone I
was powerless. Plunged in gloomy forebodings, I did not notice the
approach of the barber, until he touched my sleeve to announce his
presence.
"'You have heard what they mean to do?' he asked.
"I nodded.
"'We must save them, Chunda Das. But I beg of you not to place any
reliance on the patel's coming, for he sides with the rest of the
villagers, and will help them to deal out the swift justice which he
believes to be well deserved. Besides it was his cows that died this
morning.'
"At this statement, then indeed my last hope was gone. For we were far
away from any town where I could have invoked the aid of the Emperor's
soldiers. I shook my head despairingly.
"'Oh, yes, Chunda Das, you will devise some way,' protested the barber,
reading the hopelessness in my mind. 'You have a fleet horse, and can
ride after Sheikh Ahmed, find him, and call him back again. Or, if he be
really dead, you can bring word of how his end came.'
"'Will there be time for all this?' I asked dubiously.
"'We must make time,' he answered. 'The patel will be back before long.
You can use the interval in getting some food, and in preparing for the
road. I think your influence with him will at least secure delay for
some days, until you can return with the information in quest of which
you go. But mark my words, unless the Sheikh shows himself, or you can
prove how he met his death on the road, then assuredly will the doom of
our friends be sealed.'
"'Very well,' I said, contented in my mind; for if my search for Sheikh
Ahmed failed, I could bring back with me some of our master Akbar's
soldiery to rescue the prisoners.
"During the afternoon the headman returned, and I lost no time before
interviewing him. I told him how firmly convinced I was that Baji Lal
and Devaka were innocent, and that I would prove it if he gave me the
chance to do so. At first he shook his head, but on my promising that
the unfortunate couple would in the interval make no effort to escape,
and that I would surely be back in two weeks' time whether or not
success in my mission attended me, he yielded to my entreaties, the less
reluctantly because I further undertook to pay him the value of his dead
cows.
"So, after a brief good-bye visit to Baji Lal and his wife, I set forth
on my journey.
"Six days later I entered the bazaar of Punderpur. I went to a
travellers' rest house with which I was familiar, to see whether I could
glean any information as to the present whereabouts of Sheikh Ahmed,
who, in his travels, I had discovered, had been making for this place.
"Seated around the courtyard of the caravanserai were many visitors and
their friends of the town. With some of the latter I was acquainted, but
for the present I only returned their greetings with a silent salaam. I
was anxious to meet with an old friend, a munshi, learned in many
languages, whose profession kept him on the outlook for the numerous
travellers from distant parts who passed this way.
"I had just espied the man of whom I was in quest, seated at some
distance among a group of idlers, when I was accosted by a stranger
handsomely accoutred and of line bearing. He said that he had heard I
was recently arrived from Sengali. He had friends in that village, and
would be glad to hear of them.
"I told him that for the present I was occupied with pressing business,
but a little later I would be at his disposal, and pleased to give him
any information in my power. He thanked me courteously, and said he
would return in the evening, when, perhaps, I would be more at leisure.
I had cut short this interview, paying, indeed, little heed to the
stranger, for I had noticed that my friend, the munshi, not knowing of
my presence in the inn, was in the act of taking his departure. I
hastened after him.
"The venerable munshi was delighted to see me, and insisted on my
sharing his evening meal. We moved in the direction of his home, and he
gave me the chit-chat of the day. Until our repast was finished I did
not mention the object of my visit. Only after we were comfortably
seated on the veranda, enjoying the cool night air, did I approach the
subject, discreetly, as was fitting, by talking on topics quite at
variance from the one in my mind. But after a time I ventured to ask
whether many travellers had passed recently. He looked at me shrewdly
and smiled.
"'At last, my friend, you tell me the reason of your coming here. You
are in search of some one.'
"'Truly I am,' I replied, 'and it is a matter of life or death to find
the man I am seeking.'
"Thereupon, without further preamble, I related the story of Baji Lal
and the missing Sheikh.
"At the end of my narrative Munshi Khyraz--such was my host's name--sat
silent for a spell. I knew my friend, and allowed him his own time to
make any comment. Presently he broke from his reflections.
"'About the time you mention,' he began, 'just before the first rains, a
stranger was brought into this town by some woodcutters. Their story was
that the wounded man had been attacked by his servant when travelling,
and left for dead in the jungle.'
"I started, and leaned toward him eagerly.
"'A clue!' I cried. 'A clue! Where is he now?'
"The old sage looked at me with disapproval in his eyes.
"'Excitement and impetuosity of speech are for the young, my friend,' he
said, gravely. 'They are not becoming in the matured.'
"I lay back again on my cushions, feeling justly censured. The light of
displeasure dying from his eyes, the munshi proceeded:
"'I had the victim of this outrage carried to my house, and, his wounds
not proving serious, he was soon well, and able to think of resuming his
journey. He was very reticent concerning the motive of his servant for
attempting his life, and foolishly, to my mind, made no effort to trace
the miscreant. When leaving he said that in all probability he would
return this way a few weeks later. So, my friend, he may be here any
day, for it is a good long while since he left.'
"Repressing my eagerness this time, I sat still for a few minutes, then
said:
"'I think it is certain from what you have told me that the wounded man
was the one I am now seeking.'
"'Perhaps, perhaps, but only time will decide,' he replied, cautiously.
'You must wait and see.'
"'Wait! wait!' I cried, impatiently. 'There is no time to wait. I must
act, and that quickly.'
"The munshi looked at me commiseratingly, but contented himself with a
shrug of his shoulders.
"Just then a servant approached, and whispered in his master's ear. The
old man sat up from his half-reclining attitude, and methought for a
moment that an amused smile crept over his face.
"'Admit him,' he said to the attendant. 'Admit him at once.'
"Then, turning to me with his accustomed gravity, he added in
explanation: 'A friend of mine has called. He is an interesting man, and
I want you to know him.'
"I was about to protest that I had not come there to make new
acquaintances, when the curtain was pushed aside, and none other than
the stranger who had addressed me at the caravanserai stepped on to the
veranda. He crossed over to the master of the house, and greeted him
affectionately. I decided to remain at least a short time, and waited
quietly until my host should introduce his visitor. This he straightway
proceeded to do, presenting us to each other with a courteous wave of
his hand.
"A glow of pleasure suffused the newcomer's face when he recognized me.
"'Fate is indeed kind,' said he. 'I was going to try and find you again
at the rest house, when, lo and behold! here you are, the guest of my
good friend, the munshi.'
"'What! Are you already acquainted?' exclaimed our host, visibly
surprised, despite the philosophy of self-restraint he was so fond of
preaching.
"It was my turn now to bestow a reproving look.
"'We have met,' I rejoined, with proper dignity, 'but as yet I have not
the honour of acquaintance.'
"To cover this well-deserved rebuke, the munshi clapped his hands and
bade the servant who responded to the summons to bring sherbet for our
refreshment. After the cooling draught, and when we were all comfortably
settled, the stranger, whose name had not yet been spoken, turned to me
and said:
"'Now perhaps you will give me the news from Sengali.'
"'It is grievous,' I returned, 'and it is owing to trouble there that I
am now here.'
"'Indeed. And what may the trouble be? As I told you this afternoon, I
have friends in the village, and am consequently interested.'
"'Aye, aye, tell him the story you have just told me,' called out the
munshi.
"Courteously the stranger awaited my response, in his eyes an anxious
look of inquiry. As I proceeded with my recital his excitement grew
apace, and he leaned forward in his eagerness to miss not a word. At the
finish he started to his feet, and, catching hold of my arm, exclaimed:
"'What! You tell me they will burn down their very home?'
"I nodded assent.
"'Then must we start in all haste for Sengali,' he continued, excitedly.
'To-night, now, or it may be too late.'
"I was moved by this display of fervid sympathy on the part of a
stranger for my humble friends in their sorry plight. But I could not
avail myself of his proffered assistance.
"'Pardon me,' I replied, 'but I have first to find Sheikh Ahmed, who has
been the cause--the innocent cause--of all this grievous anxiety, and
whose presence is needed to put an end to the false charge of murder.'
"'Don't you know that I am Sheikh Ahmed?' cried the stranger.
"'Yes, yes, he is no other,' laughed our host, the munshi. 'I avoided
giving the wounded traveller's name a while ago, Chunda Das, as a
fitting curb to your eagerness, and now, thanks to the Sheikh paying me
a visit, you have met somewhat quicker than I expected.'
"For full a minute I was speechless. Was it possible that I had so soon
found my man, or, to put it more correctly, that the man had found me?
The gods be praised for working on behalf of the helpless and
oppressed!
"But my meditations were rudely interrupted. The Sheikh had again
gripped me by the shoulder, and was speaking rapidly:
"'Rouse yourself, friend; rouse yourself. This is no time for
wonderment.'
"'So you are indeed alive and well, Sheikh Ahmed?' I asked, in
blundering fashion.
"'You can see for yourself,' he replied, impatiently. 'But I little
thought I should have been the means of doing to these kind people who
nursed and nourished me so grievous an injury. But, Allah be praised!
there is yet time to repair the wrong and make amends. Let us away,
away, without the delay of another hour.'
"The munshi clapped his hands once more, and the servant was quickly in
attendance.
"'These friends of mine will take the road,' he said to the man, 'so
soon as the moon is up. Go you now to the inn, and bid the grooms make
ready their horses for a long journey. Quick--lose no time!'
"The Sheikh motioned the servant to his side, and added some whispered
instructions. Then, turning to me, he said:
"'The moon will serve us ere very long.'
"By my silence I had acquiesced in the plan of speedy departure, for
nothing could better suit my own wishes. But meanwhile there would be an
interval of patient waiting.
"'Can you account for the strange wailing around the house of Baji Lal?'
I asked of the Sheikh.
"He hesitated a moment before making answer.
"'To me it is all a mystery,' he said at last. 'Some one, perhaps, is
playing a trick upon them.'
"'A sorry trick,' I commented bitterly.
"'But their home must certainly be saved,' he added.
"'Not merely their home,' said I. 'Their lives are also in jeopardy.'
"'We must save them! we shall save them!' cried the Sheikh, with
upraised hand and in a tone of determination that brought great comfort
to my anxious heart.
"The time soon passed, and, our horses having been brought round from
the rest house, we took leave of our good host, Munshi Khyraz.
"Just as we turned on to the high road, ten or a dozen mounted troopers
emerged from the shadow of a tope of trees, and came clattering behind
us.
"'These are my escort,' explained the Sheikh. 'I have already
encountered too many dangers on this road to run further risks.'
"I made no comment, but inwardly reflected that once more kind fate was
working in my favour. Of course, with Sheikh Ahmed alive, there would be
no need to use force for Baji Lal's rescue. But safeguarded on the way,
we should be all the quicker in reaching our destination.
"It was toward noon on the fourth day from Punderpur--for there were now
no inquiries to delay me--that we came in sight of the village of
Sengali. It was just ten days then since the date of my departure in
quest of the missing man. So my mind was at ease; according to the
patel's promise, there remained yet four days of safety for Baji Lal and
Devaka.
"But all at once fear smote my heart. There was a strange absence of
people in the fields and on the outskirts of the village. Dreading I
know not what, I begged of the Sheikh to press forward. Our escort was
some distance behind us on the road, but, without waiting for the
troopers, we set our tired horses to their best speed.
"Coming to the pipul tree and the tank, we found this usual place of
congregation deserted. Now indeed was I thoroughly alarmed, likewise my
companion, and of one accord, without waiting to visit the constable's
compound, we turned our horses' heads in the direction of the home of
Baji Lal.
"And there indeed we found a dense crowd, the hoarse murmur of their
voices being borne to our ears before we turned the corner. The first
thing that smote my eyes was a thin column of smoke mounting skyward.
"Sheikh Ahmed too had seen, for he whipped up his horse unmercifully. As
he flashed past me, I was struck by the ashen grey that had stolen over
his features. His face was drawn, his nostrils quivered from excitement.
"I could not but admire his eager determination. 'What gratitude! What
unselfishness!' I thought to myself. 'Here is this man, rich and highly
placed, ready to endure prolonged fatigues and hardships, to face any
adventure, and all for the sake of a humble villager and his wife who
did but nurse him when he was sick. Not often do we find such men, not
often do we see the rich incommoding themselves for the poor.'
"Emulating his example, I urged my lagging beast to a final effort. In a
brief minute we were on the outskirts of the crowd, where perforce we
had to dismount. The Sheikh led the way as, afoot, we passed through the
throng.
"When we got within clear view of the house, I saw that faggots had been
placed all around it, and that these were already alight, giving forth
the smoke we had seen from a distance. I looked about me in dread. Where
were Baji Lal and Devaka? I questioned a man who was blocking my way. He
turned round, and, to my joy, I recognized Bimjee, the barber. He gazed
at me sadly, and, without expressing surprise at seeing me, pointed to
the flat roof.
"There, beyond the low parapet, tied to a stake, was poor little Devaka.
Her face was covered by her sari, and whether she were living or dead it
was impossible to tell.
"'And her husband?' I asked, trembling. 'Not yet dead?'
"'No. But when the sun is at its highest point, which will be in a few
minutes now, he will be dispatched with a sword and his body flung into
the fire. See! they are already pouring oil on the faggots, so that the
haunted house may be quickly consumed. It will soon be all over with our
poor friends.'
"'Not so, not so,' I cried, 'for Sheikh Ahmed has come back. See, there
he is, hastening to rescue his humble friends. He has not rested day or
night since he heard of the disaster that had befallen them.'
"The crowd had parted before the Sheikh, and through the rift I now
beheld Baji Lal, standing with his hands tied behind him at a little
distance from his burning home. But to my surprise Sheikh Ahmed darted
past him.
"'Ah!' exclaimed the barber, noticing my disconcerted look. 'He thinks
that Devaka is in greater peril, and leaves you to rescue her husband.'
"I looked at the curling smoke, and shuddered. Assuredly there was no
time to be lost if the woman was to be saved.
"'You are right, Bimjee,' I cried. 'We'll look after Baji Lal. Come
along.'
"And I gained my friend's side none too soon, for already a sword was
pointed at his breast. Leaping on the man who held it, I thrust the
weapon aside.
"The patel, standing by, turned on me with a ferocious look.
"'How dare you hinder justice, Chunda Das?' he demanded. 'This is by
decree of the panchayet.'