encouraging him to keep on speaking freely, 'there can be no treachery,
no breaking of vows in revealing the truth.'
"'It is to reveal the truth that I have come to you. It is by the orders
of Bowani herself; for I have wronged her, and she is angry and has
loudly proclaimed to me that thuggee is ended--that her protection is
for ever withdrawn from me and my fellows, because, O misery, we have
grievously offended her. Hark! Do you not hear the voice of Bowani even
now?'
"The man raised his face toward the rafters of the room, and, with right
hand uplifted, his attitude was one of intent listening.
"'Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy,' he murmured, in a strange absent
monotone, as if repeating words he was actually hearing. 'You have
broken my laws. Go now to your doom, you and all your brothers. Such
priests Kali will not have. Thuggee is no more. I will seek some other
worshippers.'
"After a pause of tense silence, as if the listener was awaiting for
more, he dropped hand and eyes. And now my mind took a new turn of
thought. There was the confused, unmistakable glare of insanity in the
man's eyes. Half unconsciously, I leaned back on my cushions and placed
a hand upon the dagger in my kummerbund.
"The stranger noticed the movement, and, lunatic though he undoubtedly
appeared to be, interpreted my thoughts.
"'Be not afraid of me, master,' he said. 'This is the only weapon I
carry.'
"And with these words he slipped off a silken scarf that he had been
wearing loosely around his throat, and tossed it on the carpet between
us.
"Now was I all the more confirmed in my estimate of his madness. To call
such a thing a weapon!--a strip of soft fabric that might kill a
butterfly but would be poor defence indeed to rely on against sword or
dagger. I suppose I smiled contemptuously, for again the man read my
thoughts.
"Then instantly did he do a thing that made my blood run cold. With a
toss of the scarf into the air, he formed it into a noose, and this he
threw over one upbended knee. Next with a swift twist of fierce hands he
drew the knot tight, and so terribly realistic was his action that for
the moment I saw above his knee the contorted mouth and protruding eyes
of his suddenly strangled victim.
"There was horror in my gaze now, but only calm professional pride in
his, as he flung back the still looped and knotted kerchief on to the
carpet.
"'Yes, I am a strangler,' he said calmly, 'as are all the thugs, born to
become stranglers, and taught how to use the roomal in early youth by
their own fathers' hands.'
"Of strangling as a means of murder I of course knew, and, indeed,
during the years of my magistracy, I had heard vague rumours of robbers
habitually resorting to this method of dispatching their victims rather
than to clubs or swords. But such appalling dexterity as this man
displayed in the handling of an innocent-looking silken scarf I had
never imagined.
"'You look dismayed,' commented the miscreant, no longer a madman now to
my thinking, but a very dangerous character indeed. 'I am not surprised.
Now prepare yourself for a story that will freeze the very marrow in
your bones. Know that I am from Daibul, the city by the sea where great
Mother Indus flows into the black waters. There for six months of the
year, just before and during the season of the monsoon, I live
peacefully in my home, doing no wrong to my fellows, in the eyes of all
my neighbours a man of wealth and respectability, who goes periodically
to his own country to draw rents from his lands. Little do my friends
know that when I do travel it is to worship Bowani by sacrificing to her
other travellers on the road. She gives us the omen to kill and we obey
her. Once the omen has been declared, it would be sacrilege not to kill
her destined victim.'
"'And you rob them too?' I asked discreetly.
"'Oh, naturally. But that is a mere incident. We kill those marked for
death by our divine Kali, and she freely bestows on us the wealth of her
victims. But we never kill to rob. That would be truly abominable. We
kill only in honour of Kali, of Bowani, the all-mighty, great Mother of
the Universe. For to her devout worshippers, the thugs, did she not give
one of her teeth for a pickaxe, a rib for a knife, and the hem of her
lower garment for a noose? So we strangle in her service, and with every
victim the act becomes more and more a delight to the soul.' As he
spoke, his muscular fingers and wrists automatically went through the
motions of tying and drawing the fatal noose. 'Once a man has become a
thug, he will remain a thug all the rest of his days. Even if he come to
possess the wealth of the world, he will continue to serve Bowani.'
"I had regained my momentarily disturbed composure, and was studying the
face of the man before me. It was a fine face, clear-cut, that of a
clean liver, unmarked by sensuality, unharmed by wine, keen of
intelligence, resolute of will. I could no longer deem him a madman. But
I saw I had to do with one so filled with fanaticism that he could look
upon murder as religion, plan it without misgiving, execute it without
pity, and remember it without remorse. But now there had occurred
something so to upset his mental balance that he feared the wrath of his
own goddess and fancied he heard her threatening voice in the air.
"'You have journeyed to Delhi from Daibul?' I asked, prompting him to
resume his story.
"'Yes, we were six thugs at the start, with fifteen others, merchants
and pilgrims, all of us agreeing to journey together for greater
protection on the road. As we proceeded day by day more travellers
joined us, some peaceful voyagers, the others thugs to a man. Of the
latter several were our own inveiglers, who had gone on in advance to
gain the confidence of likely victims and delay them until our coming.
The rest were strangers to us, yet none the less thugs. For we had left
signs on the road telling such as could read them that more help was
needed and in what direction we were moving; and, although those who
responded to this call were in varied disguises, one, perhaps, coming up
to us as a petty chief with a mounted escort, another as a merchant with
a bullock cart to draw his packages of goods and a servant in
attendance, yet another as a juggler or a musician, we could instantly
recognize them as belonging to our brotherhood of Bowani by the secret
signals with which they introduced themselves.
"'So we fared onward, increasing our numbers until our caravan was full
one hundred strong. We walked or rode together, ate together, worshipped
at the wayside shrines together, chatted and amused ourselves at night
around the camp fire, slept side by side, thugs and our intended
victims, until our strength should be sufficient and a suitable place
for the final deed attained.
"'At last these two requirements were satisfied. We were now three to
one, just the proper proportion--a strangler to use the roomal, a holder
of legs, and a holder of arms, three thugs for each man to be
sacrificed, so that there could be no mistake, no outcry for help, no
possibility of escape for our victims. And one day's journey ahead, as
we knew well from previous experience, there was a lonely gorge densely
grown with jungle. Here the sacrifice to Bowani would be consummated, so
the grave-choosers and the grave-diggers were sent on in advance. We
acted now with the certainty of good fortune, for day by day every omen
had continued to be propitious, as interpreted by the movements and
cries of beasts and birds.'
"The man's story fell on my ears in an even flow. He spoke without
emotion. I feared to interrupt with a single word, lest any untoward
comment from me should put an abrupt end to the appalling confession. So
I just listened while I chewed my betel-nut.
"'On the succeeding night,' continued the thug, 'we reached the nullah.
The camp fire was lighted the bullocks and riding ponies were placed
within the circle formed of the carts, for the gorge beneath us was full
of wild beasts, and we had even heard the roar of a tiger disturbed from
his hunting. The bales and boxes of merchandise had been piled up in
heaps, close to where each of the owners would sleep, some on the open
ground, some in tents erected by their servants. The evening meal had
been cooked and eaten. The half-moon had risen, and at a little distance
from the fire a troupe of musicians was performing--zithers were
playing, cymbals clanking, tum-tums beating. From the peculiar rhythm of
the drums, which all we thugs knew well, we were made aware that the
appointed hour had come.
"'Our leader stood in the midst of the gathering, ostensibly warming his
hands at the blaze of the fire. Gradually and naturally we took our
appointed places, many of them customarily taken before this night so as
to excite no suspicion at the final moment. And little did the destined
victims of Bowani dream that behind each of them now was an accomplished
strangler, with the roomal ready to his hands, while on either side
squatted a holder of legs and a holder of arms.
"'Then there happened a thing that will explain, O kadi, why I have come
to you this day to tell my story. I am an adept in my craft, and
therefore was one of those entrusted to use the roomal. My particular
victim was a comely youth, perhaps seventeen years of age--son of a
landowner, he had told me in confidence, travelling with a bag of gold
mohurs for his father. This lad had been in my close companionship
during the journey, and he had come to show great affection for me. I
liked him well, but there was no pity in my heart, for it is good to die
in honour of Bowani.
"'At last came the signal of death--the jhirnee we call it. Our leader
raised aloft his right hand, and said aloud so that all could hear the
agreed-upon words: "The moon shines bright to-night." This was our
command to act, and in an instant every appointed victim was in the
death throes. Five minutes later all were dead--four-and-thirty of
them--and not one faintest cry of alarm or of agony had been uttered.
Thus skilfully had our work been done. When all was over, the musicians
were still playing their stringed instruments and hand-drums, softly now
after a great volume of sound that would have overwhelmed any chance
scream of terror.
"'But in the very act of strangling, a dreadful revelation had come to
me. Just before the signal was given the lad had turned his countenance
toward me, and his eyes were looking into mine. In his fixed regard, as
I realized later, there was the glow of love. But this was transformed
of an instant into affrighted horror, as my hand at his ear gave the
noose the deft and fatal twist. In the space of a single heart-beat, I
saw incredulity change to the realization of sudden death, the first
wild appeal for pity turn into rigid despair. But this momentary flash
of revelation had shown me something else. It was a maid into whose
soul I had gazed. I had put to death a woman.'
"Now for the first time in his narrative did the strangler betray
emotion. Bending forward, he raised a hand to shield his quivering
features from my scrutiny. I turned away, that he might the better
recover himself. After a little time he resumed:
"'Oh, the horror of it!' he cried, uplifting haggard eyes to mine. 'The
frightful crime against Bowani! To have killed one of her own sex! For a
thug there is no crime in all the world to equal this one. Too late I
realized what I had done. But in my first impulse of fear I resolved to
keep the dread secret to myself. With my own hands I rifled the body,
and laid the spoil of gold and other valuables on the cotton cloth
outspread in the moonlight for the reception of such gifts to the
goddess. I removed the outer garments, robes of cost, silken, and
heavily wrought with gold. Then, when the grave-diggers emerged from the
nullah to show us the places of burial prepared, one for each victim, in
my own arms I carried the body down into the darkness, laid it in its
narrow bed, filled in the sand, and heaped on top the stones already
gathered together in a pile, so that hyenas or jackals should not
disturb the grave, finally covering all with brushwood cut and ready,
that even the signs of recent excavation should be hidden from prying
eyes and the sacrifice to Bowani disclosed to none besides her votaries.
"'I kept my secret--the terrible knowledge that a woman had died at our
hands. By the morning dawn the spoil had been divided, and our
cavalcade, smaller now by nearly one-third, moved on. At the first
cross-roads we split up into several groups, and later on into smaller
parties still, so as to divert attention from us. And thus have I come
on to Delhi, only I and one other member of that body of thugs,
dispersed to assemble again as the omens of the goddess should direct.
At Delhi we two await another gathering of thugs. But meanwhile my heavy
secret has weighed upon my soul. I have heard incessantly, these last
few days and nights, Bowani denouncing me as false to her because I have
taken the life of a woman in her name, and bidding me hand over all the
thugs to the justice of Akbar. Therefore have I come first to you, O
kadi, one of the judges of Akbar.'
"I looked steadily at the man. Methought I saw once more the furtive,
shifty eyes of the maniac.
"'What proof have you of this story?' I asked.
"'Take some sowars, and ride back with me three days' journey. There
will I show you the graves of these last victims, and of some hundreds
of others buried on previous occasions in the same gorge.'
"'Where is your companion--your brother thug?'
"'He has a shop at the corner of the Chota Bazaar and Dhurmtola. There
he is now selling his merchandise.'
"'But that is the shop of Kubar Bux. He dwells here in Delhi.'
"'Kubar Bux is his name.'
"'He is a well-known and respected merchant.'
"'None the less is he a thug,' answered the informer, with what I took
to be a vindictive little smile.
"Then once again did a new thought leap into my mind. This man might
have a feud with Kubar Bux, and peradventure he had merely invented the
story of thugs and wholesale murder for the latter's undoing. I know
well the wily ways of some men--how they will even imperil their own
lives to compass the ruin of an enemy.
"'If I go with you now,' I said, 'to the shop of Kubar Bux, what proof
will you give me of his connexion with this story of thuggee?'
"'On his person he carries the sacred pickaxe of Bowani, which makes him
our leader when thugs come together. And hidden in one of his bales of
silk you will find a case of jewelled rings that actually belonged to
another Delhi merchant, who was of the party of travellers that recently
perished, on his way home from a visit to Baroda. You will but have to
inquire as to this same merchant's disappearance, and get his relatives
to identify the casket as the dead man's property.'
"'That, indeed, will be proof,' I assented. 'Come, let us go to the
Chota Bazaar.'
"As we passed out of the courthouse, I signalled to two sepoys on guard
there to follow us.
"Keeping close to the denouncer, I allowed him to lead me through the
narrow crowded streets. Soon we were at the corner where was the shop of
Kubar Bux, and there amidst his bales of merchandise the man himself
was seated, a venerable and dignified figure. Yet at sight of me and my
companion I thought an ashen pallor stole into the nut-brown of his
complexion.
"As I stood with the informer in front of the tiny shop, which was too
small for all of us to enter, the two soldiers closed up behind us. Then
unmistakably did Kubar Bux turn grey from trepidation.
"'Kubar Bux,' I began, without ceremony, for I saw that a crowd would
soon be gathering, 'open the bale of silk among your merchandise in
which a casket of jewels is hidden, or I shall order your shop to be
searched by the sepoys I have brought here with me.'
"The merchant rose to his feet. I noticed now, further back in the shop,
another figure seated--that of a man who, on our entry, had drawn his
garments around him so as to conceal his face. But to him at the moment
I gave no particular attention. My eyes were on Kubar Bux. He moved
toward a pile of fabrics, silks and embroidered cloths, as if to comply
with my demand. He pressed against the bales, and then all of a sudden
sank down upon the floor in a huddled heap. Then I saw the crimson stain
of blood upon the merchandise.
"I sprang forward. Driven up to the very hilt, in the breast of Kubar
Bux was a dagger. He was not quite dead, and I heard him with his last
breath murmur the words: 'Bowani, great goddess, all hail!' Then with a
rattle in his throat he died.
"I had gathered the dying man in my arms, and now beneath the flowing
garments, laid flat against the breast, I could feel the shape of
something fashioned like a small pickaxe.
"When I saw that Kubar Bux was indeed dead, I drew forth this implement.
It was carefully swathed in white cloths, a pickaxe bright from the
hammer of the smith who had forged it, unsullied by earthy stain but
curiously marked from the head to the point by seven discs of red paint,
showing it to be an object of worship at an altar rather than for actual
use in the ground. But at this stage I did not pause further to
investigate, and hastily replaced the wrappings.
"'Keep close guard on this man,' I said to the sepoys, pointing to the
informer. But he whom I would thus hold safe remained standing
impassively, making no attempt to escape.
"Then with a push of my hands I tumbled down the pile of bales. In the
one next to the bottom was a protuberance, and from this I drew forth a
casket of silver, delicately chased and inlaid with ivory.
"By this time a throng of passers-by had stopped outside the shop, and
some had even crowded into the little place. But these I now ordered
out. Then I turned to seek the man who had been Kubar Bux's companion at
the moment of our coming. He was no longer there. The shop was
tenantless--except for myself and the dead man.
"I need tell but little more. The silver box was identified by several
people as the property of Govind Chung, a jewel-seller in the Bara
Bazaar, who had made a recent journey to the court of the Rajah of
Baroda, but had not yet returned home, although for some time expected.
"That night the paint-bedaubed pickaxe, sacred emblem of Kali's worship,
lay on the table in my sleeping chamber. But in the morning it had
disappeared--gone how and where no one has ever discovered. The informer
had been confined in the public prison, guarded by two sepoys. Thither,
on discovering my loss, I straightway repaired.
"The soldiers were still on guard in the corridor; nothing had happened
during the night to disturb their watch.
"But within his cell the informer was found dead--strangled, eyes and
tongue protruding from blackened face, the twisted knot under his ear
tied in the very manner I had seen him himself tie it over his upraised
knee on the afternoon of his confession.
"That is the end of my story."
* * * * *
The narrator of the grim tale folded his hands across his breast, bowed
his head, and thus remained in an attitude of meditation. There was an
interval of silence.
"Who murdered the informer?" at last asked the astrologer.
"We never learned," replied the magistrate.
"Was he strangled with his own silken scarf?"
"No. A plain cotton loin-cloth had been used for the deed. It had never
been worn or washed. It must thus have come straight from some shop in
the bazaars. But scores of the same kind are bought and sold every day.
We could discover nothing from this, the only clue the murderer had left
behind him."
"The assassin must have been the mysterious individual you saw in the
rear of the shop of Kubar Bux," commented the Afghan general. "Himself a
member of the thug fraternity, he no doubt took swift vengeance on the
informer for having betrayed its secrets."
"As I believed then, and believe now. But the whole affair remained a
puzzle. For how was access gained to the locked and guarded prison cell,
and to my sleeping chamber as well whence the sacred pickaxe was
stolen?"
"Well, who can be certain even of his associates or followers? According
to the miscreant's own story, there are thugs all around, knowing each
other but not known to us."
"Can such things be?" asked the merchant, his eyes showing the fear and
horror that had smitten him. "Many times have I travelled in company
with just such a promiscuously gathered crowd as the strangler
described."
"You have been in luck," laughed the Afghan.
"Doubtless on those occasions the omens proved unpropitious for the
final deed. A jackal crossing the road or the hoot of an owl at midnight
may have spared your life, my friend."
With a shudder, the trader drew his white garments more closely around
him.
"Well," remarked the magistrate, "for my own part, ever from that day
when I heard the story of thugs and thuggee I have exercised the
precaution of never travelling a single mile on the road with strangers,
however fair-spoken. Although I have never again met anyone whom I could
positively accuse of such practices, that the evil exists in our midst,
and is widely spread, I am convinced. For a religion that provides a
rich livelihood, while at the same time exalting the attendant crime
into positive virtue is at least convenient enough to have many ardent
devotees." The words were accompanied by a glance around the listening
group, and a disdainful half-smile that expressed distrust of all
humanity.
"But of a truth," he went on, "I know no more than my story has told.
And hark! There is the trumpet call that heralds the coming of the sun."
Saying this, the kotwal uncrossed his legs and rose erect.
The long winding note of a horn was floating from the camp of the
soldiery near the city gateway, and in a moment there came from the same
direction the confused sound of men's voices afar off, calling the one
to the other.
"I must away," exclaimed the Afghan, springing alertly to his feet, and
buckling his sword belt. Three or four servants of the Rajput chief had
approached, and were gathering together the cushions and rugs on which
he had been reclining. One of them placed in his master's hand the
bejewelled hilt of his scimitar.
"This for my enemies and the enemies of Akbar," cried the Rajput,
drawing the curved blade half way from its scabbard. "But I would not
soil it with the heart's blood of a thug. For him the gibbet, and the
crows to pick out his eyes."
Just then the first lance-tips of the dawn flashed above the horizon,
gilding the domes and minarets of the marble city. Away in the distance
could be heard the wailing cry of a muezzin calling the faithful to
prayer.
Other members of the party had now arisen, each intent on his own
affairs, one arranging his garments, another settling his turban
straight on his head, the hakeem adjusting the little box of instruments
and simples he carried at his girdle, the Moslem astrologer spreading
his prayer carpet at the end of the veranda and prostrating himself in
the direction of Mecca.
Only the fakir had remained motionless; but now he gathered up in his
hands his wooden begging-bowl, and held it forth, crying, "Ram, Ram," in
the plaintive whine of his profession. But there was none to pay heed to
his untimely importunity. Indeed, the Bombay merchant, when the cry
smote his ears, started uneasily, and in descending the steps gave the
lean, ash-bedaubed figure of the ascetic the widest berth possible.
"Who can tell a thug from a honest man?" he asked of the magistrate in
passing.
"Who indeed can tell?" came the reply, in measured tone and with an
enigmatic smile.
* * * * *
And a minute later all had gone their several ways.
THE END.
Transcriber's Notes: Normalized punctuation and quotes
Left one instance of fore-ordained and one of foreordained
Page 26: Changed access to excess (Printer's error)
Page 30: Changed four-and twenty to four-and-twenty (Printer's error)