MAGIC
Through the tunnel, into the street, into the care of Ahmed and Lal
Singh, then hurriedly to the house of Ramabai. The fact that they had
to proceed to Ramabai's was a severe blow to Bruce and the colonel.
They had expected all to be mounted the instant they came from the
tunnel, a swift unobstructed flight to the gate and freedom. But Ahmed
could not find his elephants. Too late he learned that the mahouts he
had secretly engaged had misunderstood his instructions and had
stationed themselves near the main entrance to the arena!
The cursing and railing against fate is a futile thing, never bearing
fruit: so Ramabai suggested his house till transportation could be
secured. They perfectly understood that they could not remain in the
house more than a few hours; for Umballa would surely send his men
everywhere, and quite possibly first of all to Ramabai's.
Still, Ramabai did not appear very much alarmed. There were secret
stairways in his house that not even Pundita knew; and at a pinch he
had a plan by which he could turn away investigation. Only in the
direst need, though, did he intend to execute this plan. He wanted his
friends out of Allaha without the shedding of any blood.
"Well," said Ahmed, angrily casting aside his disguise; "well, Ramabai,
this is the crisis. Will you strike?"
Lal Singh's wrinkled face lighted up with eagerness.
"We are ready, Ramabai," he said.
"We?" Ramabai paused in his pacing to gaze keenly into the eyes of
this old conspirator.
"Yes, we. For I, Lal Singh, propose to take my stand at your right
hand. I have not been idle. Everywhere your friends are evincing
impatience. Ah, I know. You wish for a bloodless rebellion; but that
can not be, not among our people. You have said that in their zeal
your followers, if they knew, would sweep the poor old king out of your
path. Listen. Shall we put him back on the throne, to perform some
other mad thing like this gift of his throne to the Colonel Sahib?"
Ramabai, watched intently by the two conspirators for the British Raj
and his white friends, paced back and forth, his hands behind his back,
his head bent. He was a Christian; he was not only a Christian, he was
a Hindu, and the shedding of blood was doubly abhorrent to his mind.
"I am being pulled by two horses," he said.
"Act quickly," advised Ahmed; "one way or the other. Umballa will
throw his men round the whole city and there will not be a space large
enough for a rat to crawl through. And he will fight like a rat this
time; mark me."
Ramabai paused suddenly in front of his wife and smiled down at her.
"Pundita, you are my legal queen. It is for you to say what shall be
done. I had in mind a republic."
Lal Singh cackled ironically.
"Do not dream," said Ahmed. "Common sense should tell you that there
can be no republic in Allaha. There must be an absolute ruler, nothing
less. Your Majesty, speak," he added, salaaming before Pundita.
She looked wildly about the room, vainly striving to read the faces of
her white friends; but their expressions were like stone images. No
help there, no guidance.
"Is the life of a decrepit old man," asked Lal Singh, "worth the lives
of these white people who love and respect you?"
Pundita rose and placed her hands upon her husband's shoulders.
"We owe them our lives. Strike, Ramabai; but only if our need demands
it."
"Good!" said Lal Singh. "I'm off for the bazaars for the night. I
will buy chupatties and pass them about, as they did in my father's
time at Delhi, in the Great Mutiny."
And he vanished.
Have you ever witnessed the swarming of bees? Have you ever heard the
hum and buzz of them? So looked and sounded the bazaars that night.
At every intersection of streets and passages there were groups,
buzzing and gesticulating. In the gutters the cocoanut oil lamps
flickered, throwing weird shadows upon the walls; and squatting about
these lamps the fruit sellers and candy sellers and cobblers and
tailors jabbered and droned. Light women, with their painted faces,
went abroad boldly.
And there was but one word on all these tongues: Magic!
Could any human being pass through what this white woman had? No! She
was the reincarnation of some forgotten goddess. They knew that, and
Umballa would soon bring famine and plague and death among them.
Whenever they uttered his name they spat to cleanse their mouths of the
defilement.
For the present the soldiers were his; and groups of them swaggered
through the bazaars, chanting drunkenly and making speech with the
light women and jostling honest men into the gutters.
All these things Lal Singh saw and heard and made note of as he went
from house to house among the chosen and told them to hold themselves
in readiness, as the hour was near at hand. Followed the clinking of
gunlocks and the rattle of cartridges. A thousand fierce youths, ready
for anything, death or loot or the beauties of the zenanas. For
patriotism in Southern Asia depends largely upon what treasures one may
wring from it.
But how would they know the hour for the uprising? A servant would
call and ask for chupatties. Good. And the meeting-place? Ramabai's
garden. It was well. They would be ready.
Flicker-flicker danced the lights; flicker-flicker went the tongues.
And the peaceful oriental stars looked down serenely.
Umballa remained in the palace, burning with the fires of murder.
Messenger after messenger came to report that the fugitives were still
at large. Contrary to Ahmed's expectations, Umballa did not believe
that his enemies would be foolhardy enough to seek refuge in the house
of Ramabai. The four roads leading out of the city were watched, the
colonel's bungalow and even the ruins of Bruce's camp. They were still
in the city; but where?
A king's peg, and another; and Umballa stormed, his heart filled with
Dutch courage.
Ramabai made his preparations in case the hunters entered the house.
He opened a secret door which led into a large gallery, dim and dusty
but still beautiful. Ancient armor covered the walls; armor of the
days when there existed in Delhi a peacock throne; armor inlaid with
gold and silver and turquoise, and there were jewel-incrusted swords
and daggers, a blazing helmet which one of Pundita's ancestors had worn
when the Great Khan came thundering down from China.
"Here," said Ramabai to the colonel, "you will be safe. They might
search for days without learning this room existed. There will be no
need to remain here now. Time enough when my servant gives warning."
They filed out of the gallery solemnly. Kathlyn went into the garden,
followed by Bruce.
"Do you know," said Kathlyn, "the sight of all that armor, old and
still magnificent, seemed to awaken the recollection of another age to
me?"
He wanted to take her in his arms, but he waited for her to continue
the thought.
"I wonder if, in the dim past, I was not an Amazon?"
She stretched out her arms and suddenly he caught them and drew them
down.
"I love you, Kathlyn!"
"No, no!" She struggled back from him. "Let us return to father and
Winnie," she said.
During this talk in the garden Umballa had not been inactive. He
ordered his captain of the guard to proceed at once to the house of
Ramabai and learn if they were there, or had been.
The captain salaamed and departed with his men.
As Bruce and Kathlyn reached the door leading into the house they were
met by Ramabai, whose face was grave.
"Ah, Mem-sahib, you ought not to have come out here. You might be
seen." The servant who had been watching the street burst in with the
cry: "Soldiers!"
The colonel, Winnie and Pundita appeared. For a moment they believed
that Ramabai was going to guide them to the secret gallery. But
suddenly he raised his head and stared boldly at the gate. And by that
sign Bruce and the colonel understood: Ramabai had taken up the dice to
make his throw. The two men put their hands on their revolvers and
waited.
Soon the captain and his men came rushing in, only to stop short at a
sign from Ramabai.
"Be with me on the morrow, and I promise out of my own chest will I pay
you your arrears and earnest money for the future. On the other hand,
what will you gain by taking us prisoners to Umballa?"
"My lord's word is known. I myself will take charge of the affairs at
the palace; and Umballa shall go to the burning ghats. I will announce
to him that I found you not."
The captain and his men departed, while Ramabai and his friends
reentered the house, to find the imperturbable Lal Singh decked out in
his lawful finery.
"All is ready," he announced.
"Dawn," replied Ramabai.
"The servant goes forth for the chupatties."
* * * * * *
Dawn. The garden was filling with silent armed men. With Ramabai, in
the secret gallery, were the chiefs. Ramabai indicated the blazing
swords.
"My friends, choose among these weapons. The gems are nothing, but the
steel is tried and true."
Lal Singh selected the simplest, salaamed and slid the scabbard through
his cummerbund.
As for Kathlyn, she could not keep her eyes off the beautiful chain
cuirass which had once upon a time been worn by one of Pundita's
forebears, a warrior queen.
"Beautiful, beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Pundita, may I put it on? And
tell me the story of the warrior queen. To be brave like that, to
fight side by side with the man she loved!" She put the cuirass on.
The sky was yellow when the little army started off upon its desperate
enterprise. A guard was left behind for the women.
Pundita solemnly gave each of the girls a dagger. War! Rebellion!
Great clamor and shouting before the palace stairs!
"Give us Umballa and the council!"
Umballa heard the shouting, and at first did not understand; but soon
the truth came to him. The city was in revolt. He summoned what
servants he could trust and armed them. And when the captain of the
guard entered to seize Umballa he was himself overpowered. The
despatch with which this was accomplished stunned the soldiers, who
knew not what to do without their leader.
* * * * * *
When Lal Singh staggered into the house of Ramabai holding his side in
mortal agony, dying, Kathlyn felt the recurrence of that strange
duality which she had first known in the Temple of the Lion.
"We have failed," whispered Lal Singh. "The palace soldiers betrayed
us! All are prisoners, shortly to be shot. . . . The secret
gallery . . . Food and water there! . . . Fly!" And thus Lal Singh
gave up his cobbler's booth.
As in a dream Kathlyn ran from the house into the street.
With the sun breaking in lances of light against the ancient chain
armor, her golden hair flying behind her like a cloud, on, on, Kathlyn
ran, never stumbling, never faltering, till she came out into the
square before the palace. Like an Amazon of old, she called to the
scattering revolutionists, called, harangued, smothered them under her
scorn and contempt, and finally roused them to frenzy.
In her madness Kathlyn turned the tide; and when her father's arms
closed round her she sank insensible upon his breast.
[Illustration: Kathlyn turned the tide.]