As the Sepoy proceeded, Raikes leaned forward in an attitude, the
discomfort and unbalance of which he seemed to be entirely unaware.
His only means of maintaining his rigid poise was in the arm which lay,
with tense unrest, upon the table.
From his hand, the fingers of which had released their clutch, the stone
had rolled and gleamed an unregarded invitation into the eyes of the
drawn face above it.
The sickly grin of a long-delayed relaxation beguiled the extremities of
his mouth, the grim lips had relaxed their ugly partnership, and his
entire figure seemed upon the verge of collapse.
Raikes was listening as never before.
The clink of coin, the dry rattle and abrasion of brilliants, the rustle
of bank notes could not have fascinated him more than the even,
somnolent modulations of the speaker.
Every word found easy lodgment in his consciousness. There was not a
sound or motion to divert, and the tale was a strange one.
* * * * *
"Ram Lal," said the Sepoy, "was a native merchant, trading between
Meerut and Delhi, who decided to sacrifice the dear considerations of
caste for the grosser conditions of gain.
"From the performance of mean and illy-rewarded services to his patron,
Prince Otondo, Ram Lal had developed, with the characteristic patience
and dangerous silence of the true Oriental, to a figure of some
importance, whom it was a satisfaction for the prince to contemplate
with a view to future exaction and levy as occasion demanded.
"His royal master resided in the Kutub, a palace situated not far from
Delhi on the road to Meerut.
"This pretentious edifice, which had been established in the thirteenth
century and which still presented, in some of its unrepaired portions,
curious features of the bizarre architecture of that period, had been
the dwelling place of a long line of ancient moghuls.
"Its present incumbent, however, regarded with indifference the ravages
of time and decay, and satisfied himself with the lavish furnishing of
that considerable portion of the palace which he occupied with his dusky
retainers.
"To be at charges for all this the princely revenues had been seriously
depleted.
"Since he could not look to decrepit relatives in Delhi for further
allowances, and as the British Government proved equally obdurate, the
prince found it necessary to calculate upon all possible sources of
income.
"In such speculations, therefore, the unhappy Ram Lal became an object
of logical interest.
"Up to the present the merchant had been undisturbed in the security of
his possessions, which were suspected to be enormous.
"His royal patron had contented himself with the avarice of calculation,
and, in order that his depredations might be worthy his proposed
brigandage, he provided Ram Lal with every opportunity to develop his
hoard to a respectable figure.
"The prince, having enjoyed the advantages of association with sundry
British officials, was entirely too sagacious and philosophical to
discourage the industry of the merchant at the outset; and with the
patience which is enabled to foresee the end from the beginning, he
awaited developments.
"In consequence, the merchant attained to everything but the ostentation
of his possessions, and only assumed the dignity of his riches in the
less calculating confines of his household.
"Even here, however, the subsidy of his liege was active, for among the
servants of the merchant were those whose appraising eyes followed every
movement, and whose mercenary memories recorded every transaction.
"With all the concern of a silent partner Prince Otondo balanced, in his
philosophical mind, the various enterprises of Ram Lal.
"If they met with his august approval, the merchant's traffic was
singularly free from obstruction; if the element of uncertainty was too
pronounced for the apprehensive potentate, the most surprising occasions
for the abandonment of his projects were developed for Ram Lal, whose
intelligent mind was inclined to suspect the identity of his providence.
"Prince Otondo did not propose to have his interests jeopardized by
precipitation or undue hazard.
"But this unhappy merchant, with perverse and unaware industry, advanced
still another claim to the covert regard of his calculating highness.
"Although a widower, there remained, to remind him of his departed
blessedness, a daughter, who was, as reported by the mercenaries of the
prince, beautiful beyond their limited means of expression.
"The unfortunate Ram Lal, therefore, commending himself to this elevated
espionage, first by his 'ducats' and next his 'daughter,' was in the
predicament of the missionary whose embonpoint endears him to his savage
congregation and whose edibility is convincing enough to arouse the
regret that he is not twins.
"Prince Otondo, whose imagination was stimulated by this vicarious
contemplation of beauty, did not find it difficult to decide that the
transits of Ram Lal to and from the British barracks were open to
suspicion that demanded some biased investigation.
"Unfortunately, too, the colonel in charge of the British forces at
Delhi was equally uneasy concerning the integrity of the merchant, a
state of mind which had been judiciously aggravated by the emissaries of
Prince Otondo.
"The officer in charge knew that the merchant, with his license of exit
and entry, was in an exceptional position to acquaint himself with
considerable merchandisable information.
"Ram Lal, therefore, in response to the pernicious industry of his evil
genius, like an unstable pendulum, was in danger of detention at either
extreme.
"The prince speculated like a Machiavelli upon the advantages of such
action on the part of the colonel, and the latter looked to the former
to relieve him of the responsibility.
"However, diligence, even when baneful, has its rewards, for one day,
when Ram Lal arrived at the British horn of the dilemma, he was
arrested upon a charge framed to suit the emergency and subjected to a
military court of investigation.
"At the end of eight days the merchant was released, acquitted, and on
the ninth he directed his course homeward.
"The colonel, however, had provided the prince with his opportunity, for
when the irritated merchant arrived at his dwelling, he was informed
that sundry officials from the palace had searched the premises for
evidence of sedition, and, failing in that, had decided to accept all of
his portable chattels as a substitute.
"This was depressing enough, but still might have been accepted with the
customary Oriental impassiveness had it not been for the fact that the
marauders had added his daughter to the collection.
"At any rate, she could not be found, and as she had never ventured from
the shelter of the paternal roof without the paternal consent, Ram Lal
felt that his deductions as to her whereabouts were entitled to
consideration.
"He was unable to get any indorsement of his unhappy logic, for the
servants had all disappeared.
"He determined, however, to act in accordance with his assumption, and
after taking an inventory of whatever had been overlooked in the foray,
which was little else than the premises, he seated himself upon a mat
beneath a banyan tree in the garden, which concluded the rear of his
dwelling, and was presently ells-deep in a profound reflection, which
was not only ominous in its outward calm, but curiously prolonged.
"The only evidence of mental disquiet which, it was natural to suspect,
disturbed him, was a strange light which gleamed from his eyes at
intervals with baleful significance.
"At the conclusion of two oblivious hours Ram Lal appeared to have
arrived at some definite purpose.
"He rose to his feet and strode, with a marked degree of decision, to
his dwelling, where he slept in apparent and paradoxical peace until
morning.
"Ere the sky was red, or the dews, in harmony with this unhappy man's
dilemma, had been appropriated by the sun from the tiara of dawn, Ram
Lal set out for the palace of the Kutub, in which Prince Otondo was
compelled to reside for the present for some very convincing reasons
provided by the British Government.
"In a little while the merchant had traversed the short distance
intervening and was admitted through the courtyard gates.
"The last of the kings of Delhi was a decrepit old man named Dahbur Dhu,
whose sole object in life seemed to be an attempt to reanimate the pomp
and pageantry of a dead dynasty.
"Pensioned by the British Government, which permitted him to continue
this absurd travesty, if his feeble exasperation over his predicament
and his silly ostentations could be called by that name, this realmless
potentate occupied his waking hours in futile revilings of the hand that
at once smote and sustained him.
"While not thus engaged, he would gravitate almost to the extreme of
servility in his efforts to exact additional largess from the powers in
control, to expend upon this senile attempt to augment the consideration
of his pageant throne.
"Several efforts had already been made to remove the irritating presence
of this royal household to Bengal, but the time had not yet arrived when
the British could regard with indifference the native prejudice which
would be aroused by such a procedure.
"The infirm moghul, therefore, continued his vaudeville, which was
mainly confined within the palace walls at Delhi, and persisted in his
endeavors to augment his revenues.
"However, to mitigate the nuisance as far as possible, the British
Government consented to recognize his grandson, Prince Otondo, as the
successor to the throne, and yield a degree to the exactions of the
moghul if his young kinsman would agree to remove himself permanently
from Delhi and reside in the Kutub.
"To this, for a reason which shortly transpired with almost laughable
incongruity, Dahbur Dhu assented, and Prince Otondo established himself
at this royal residence with an outward manifestation of satisfaction,
at least.
"Despite the fact that the merchant was a familiar figure in this
enclosure, he believed that he remarked an unusual degree of interest
awakened by his presence, and was assured that he detected more than one
sinister and smiling glance directed, with covert insinuation, upon his
impassive countenance.
"An uneasy suggestion of conspiracy met him at every turn.
"With that gravid apprehension which creates in advance the very
conditions one desires to combat, Ram Lal prepared himself for a series
of events which made him shudder to contemplate.
"It seemed to him that the salutes of the swarthy satellites of the
prince were a degree less considerate.
"He was convinced of a cynical estimation usually accorded to the
destitute.
"The depression of disaster was upon him.
"He could only think in the direction of his forebodings, so when at
last he arrived in the familiar ante-chamber and announced himself, his
voice reflected his trepidation and his demeanor had lost a palpable
degree of its customary assurance.
"While the merchant awaited the response to his request for an audience
with the prince, he made a sorry attempt to assume a cheerful aspect,
with the success of one who is permitted to listen to the details of his
own obsequies.
"When not thus engaged, he traversed the apartment with intermittent
strides--another Chryses about to make a paternal plea to this Oriental
Agamemnon.
"He had canvassed his demeanor, reviewed his cautious phrases, and had
even provided a desperate denunciation, which, when he considered the
privileged rascality of his royal auditor, he felt assured would at once
conclude the interview and his liberty.
"As Ram Lal was about to end his fifth attempt to apprehend the result
of this expected interview, the curtains parted and a stalwart
attendant, impassive and silent, appeared.
"In response to the eloquent concern betrayed in the glance of the
merchant, the other, holding the curtains aside, indicated, by an
inclination of his turbaned head and a sweep of his hand, the dignity
of which was intended to convey some intimation of the personality of
his master and the proportions of the privileges accorded, that the
merchant was expected to proceed, which he did with trembling
precipitation.
"As Ram Lal entered the room, his alert glance discerned the figure of
the prince extended, with unceremonious abandon, upon a divan.
"Advancing, he made profound obeisance to the reclining potentate, who
acknowledged his presence with a spiritless motion of his hand not
unsuggestive of the humiliating degree of his condescension.
"At this period of his career Prince Otondo presented, in his
personality and surroundings, considerable of the picturesque
magnificence with which the native rulers delighted to surround
themselves.
"His presence, at once dignified and carelessly amiable, was not the
least vital accessory to the sumptuous abundance, to which he added the
last touch of distinction.
"A smiling cynicism, which was one of his most engaging characteristics
and an invaluable masquerade for his genuine sentiments, lingered about
his thin, patrician lips.
"His features balanced with cameo precision, and in his eyes, usually
veiled by lashes effeminately long, the whole gamut of a passionate,
intolerant nature was expressed.
"'Well, most ancient and honorable!' said the prince, with an
exasperating suggestion in his manner of appreciation of the travesty of
his words, as he gazed upon the merchant with a glance whose speculation
the latter could not determine. 'Well, how speeds thy traffic and thrive
thy caravans?'
"'Not well, my lord,' answered Ram Lal, 'not well.'
"'Ah, ha!' exclaimed the prince, with an indescribable insinuation of
biased rebuke in the look with which he challenged further revelations
from the speaker. 'That touches me nearly; this must not be; an
industrious subject may not suffer while there is a remedy at hand.'
"''Tis on that head I would beseech your majesty!' exclaimed the
merchant, seizing the opportunity provided, with such plausible
ingenuousness, by the august speaker.
"'Proceed, Ram Lal,' urged the prince, with an amiability which the
merchant had known to be a dangerous prelude in the past.
"'Great prince!' replied the merchant with the prompt obedience which
contemplates a possible reversal of privilege.
"'Nine days from home I strayed.
"'On my return I find my house despoiled of all its store.
"'And with the rest, O prince, the priceless tokens of thy high regard.
"'Aside from these, I do not mourn my loss, for it may be repaired.
"'Nor will I question fate, whose ears are dull to hear, whose eyes
refuse to see the victims of her spleen.
"'But hear, O prince--my one ewe lamb, my sole delight--my daughter
greets me not.
"'The empty halls no more re-echo to her tread.
"'No more sweet mur----'
"'Enough, Ram Lal,' interrupted the prince. 'I have heard that a needle
thrust into the eye of a bullfinch will make it sing, but I did not
know that misery could transform a merchant to a bard.
"'Disjoint your phrases a degree. You say your daughter greets you not?'
"'Yes, O prince,' replied Ram Lal, abashed at this cynical embargo upon
the melancholy luxury of his rhythms; 'yes, and it is of her I would
speak.'
"'Speak,' urged his august hearer.
"After a moment's reflection, in the manner of the unwelcome envoy who
has reached the acute juncture of his recital and is about to
disembarrass himself of a dangerous climax, the merchant continued in
sordid Hindustani:
"'As I have said, O prince, my daughter has been taken from me, and I
come to you in my extremity.'
"'And why to me, Ram Lal?' demanded the prince, with a gleam in his
glance which was directly responsible for the pacific presentation which
followed.
"'Because,' replied the merchant with discerning irreverence, 'if it so
please your highness, your providence is practical, and the ways of
Vishnu are tedious.'
"'Ah!' exclaimed the prince appreciatively; 'that was not so bad for a
merchant; but to the point.'
"'Little can occur in this cantonment that is not known to your
highness, or that cannot be determined if you so desire.
"'I ask your august assistance, and I have, as you will see, observed
the proprieties in making my request.
"'It is a time-honored custom for the suppliant to signalize his
appreciation of the importance of the favor he solicits, is it not so?'
"'I did not know,' replied the prince, 'that commerce could develop such
an oracle; it is a subtle sense of fitness you express. I am interested.
Proceed.'
"'I will, your highness,' responded Ram Lal, as he inserted his hand in
one of the folds of the sash which encircled his waist. 'You recall the
stone of Sardis?'
"'Ah!' exclaimed the prince, his cynical listlessness transformed at
once into the abandon of eagerness. 'What of it, O merchant?'
"'This,' replied the latter as he withdrew his hand from his sash, 'if
your highness will deign to examine it,' and the speaker extended toward
the incredulous prince a small box of shagreen, which the latter
clutched with the grasp of avarice.
"'Will his highness deign?' repeated Ram Lal to himself with bitter
irony as the prince pressed back the lid and exposed to view a
magnificent sapphire, the gleam and the glitter of which affected him
like an intoxication.
"As the prince, oblivious to all else, fixed his avid glance upon the
scintillant stone, an astonishing change transformed the merchant from
the suppliant to a being of marked dignity of bearing and carriage.
"His eyes, no longer obliquely observant, were directed with baleful
purpose upon the half-closed lids of the fascinated potentate.
"His hand disengaged itself from the sash, where it had reposed with
something of the suggestion of a guardian of the treasury, and was
gradually extended with sinuous menace over the declining head of the
prince.
"His long, lithe figure straightened from its servile stoop, and a
palpable degree of the authority which appeared gradually to fade from
the fine countenance before him found an equally congenial residence in
the expression of the merchant.
"There was command in every feature.
"As for the prince, his figure appeared to decline in majesty in
proportion to the access of dignity which had added its unwonted
emphasis to the personality of Ram Lal.
"He leaned inertly forward, one hand resting upon his knee.
"In his slowly relaxing clutch the brilliant gleamed. His forehead was
moist; his lips dry; his delicate nostrils were indrawn in harmony with
the concentrating lines of his brow, and the next moment, as if in
response to an insinuating pass of the merchant's hand of cobra-like
undulation, the rigid poise recoiled, he settled more easily upon the
divan, and with eyes still fascinated by the entrancing bauble he
listened, with anomalous impassiveness, to the weird proposal of Ram
Lal.
"'Hearken, O prince!
"'My daughter has been taken from me by whom I shall not venture to
inquire.
"'If she is returned to me, I shall be satisfied.
"'I am here therefore to beseech your highness to see that she is
restored to me.
"'To-day, as the sun declines, I shall expect her.
"'If she does not come to me then, O prince, a heaping handful of the
precious stones you hold so dearly will be missing, and in their stead
will be as many pebbles from the fountain in the courtyard.
"'The sapphire I leave with you as a witness of my plea.'
"And slowly the merchant retreated toward the door, his eyes fastened
the while upon the prince.
"As he reached the threshold he paused, and with a voice that seemed to
lodge in the consciousness of his inert auditor like the sigh of Auster
over the daffodils and buttercups of a dream, he repeated:
"'_To-day as the sun declines._'
"And the next instant, with an abrupt motion of his hand strangely at
variance with the placid gestures just preceding, the merchant
disappeared through the curtains which screened the doorway.
"And now," said the Sepoy abruptly, as he moved his chair with a sharp
rasp over the bare floor and transferred his glance at the same time
from the drawn countenance of his rapt auditor to the gleaming gem on
the table, "and now--is it not a beauty?"
"Ah, ha!" murmured Raikes, disturbed by the abrupt cessation of the
sedative tones of the Sepoy and the abrasion of the chair, "superb!" And
that instant all his keen animation returned.
Apparently Raikes was not aware of any blanks in his scrutiny and
resumed his regard of the tantalizing facets with knowing sagacity and
an envy that affected him like a hurt.
"In all my years," he creaked, as his long, prehensile fingers riveted
like a setting to the fascinating bauble, "I have never seen such a gem.
"The cutting is exquisite; it is a study in intelligent execution; every
facet here cost a pang; how vital it was not to waste an atom of this
precious bulk.
"What a delicate adjustment of the lines of beauty to the material
consideration; the balance is perfect." And with this confusion of frank
cupidity and rapacious regard, the miser, with a supreme effort, pushed
the stone impatiently toward the Sepoy.
"Ah!" exclaimed the latter, "it is a pleasure to show the gem to one who
is able to comprehend it.
"It is even finer than you have discerned. The lapidary was subtle; his
work sustains closer analysis. Have you a stray glass?
"No? Well, I will send you mine and you can entertain yourself until I
see you again."
"What!" exclaimed Raikes, "you will leave this stone with me?"
"Why not?" returned the Sepoy evenly. "You have a due regard for
property. I do not fear that this gem will meet with mishap in your
possession. Besides, it will be a revelation to you under the glass,"
and, arising, he stepped to the door, leaving the brilliant upon the
table in the grasp of the astonished Raikes, who was unable to
comprehend such confidence and unconcern.
Traversing the hallway, the pair reached the door which opened upon the
apartments controlled by the widow.
As he paused on the threshold to make his adieux to Raikes, the Sepoy,
looking at the former with a marvelously glowing glance, repeated, with
an emphasis so eerie as to occasion a thrill of vague uneasiness in his
companion, the concluding phrase of the singular tale he had related to
Raikes:
"_To-day as the sun declines._"
And the moment after he disappeared, leaving the startled miser to gaze,
with greedy contemplation, upon the sapphire which he retained in his
grasp.
(To be continued on Dickey No. 3.)
* * * * *
"Oh, ho!" exclaimed Dennis as the exasperating phrase in italics met his
glance, "an' it's here you are again. Shure, a man would tear his shirt
to tatters for a tale like that," and with appreciative meditation over
the vexatious quandary presented by the cunning of the bosom-maker in
thus adding another ruinous possibility to the inevitable soil and wear,
he added:
"Shure, the man who put that sthory on the dickey-back knew his
business. Where the dirt laves off the guessin' begins, and betwixt the
two it's another dickey I'll be after--ah, ha, an' it's a fine thing to
have brains like that."
With this discerning tribute, Dennis turned the last dickey around and
discovered that it was protected in the rear with a sort of oiled paper,
through which the story shadowed dimly.
Here was the pinch of his dilemma.
His curiosity was sharpened and his judgment impaired.
In a variety of ways literature incapacitates a man for the exigencies
of existence.
Dennis found himself visibly enervated. At last he remembered that the
week had advanced only as far as Thursday. Between that time and the
Fabian Saturday a number of untoward events might occur.
A more seasoned applicant might present himself to the foreman upon whom
Dennis depended, or, equally grievous, the present bibulous incumbent
might be alarmed into mending his ways.
Hitherto Dennis had resisted the temptation to present himself to the
attention of the foreman in advance of the date appointed.
In order, therefore, to master the anxiety which might betray him into
some overt importunity, he decided to devote the day to a persistent
canvass of the possibilities offered by the various wholesale houses.
Unknown to himself, Dennis had learned that the secret of patience was
doing something else in the meantime.
However, the practical at last was triumphant, and Dennis, with a
resolution that demanded prompt execution for its continued existence,
adjusted the remaining chapter to his waistcoat in the early morning and
descended to the lower floor.
On this occasion his solicitous friend behind the bar insisted upon
detaining the young Irishman, who, urged by his solitary predicament and
a degree depressed by the series of rebuffs which by now had developed a
malicious habit, proceeded to the counter and, resting one foot upon
the rail near the floor with a redeeming unfamiliarity, responded to the
inquiry of the barman by admitting that he felt a "wee bit blue."
This statement led to the revelation that the barman was similarly
affected, and was engaged, at that moment, in the preparation of a
famous antidote greatly in demand by sundry newsgatherers and night
editors in Park Row.
Dennis watched him with interest and remarked that he set out two
glasses, after the manner of those who are about to compound an
effervescent.
Such, however, was not the case, and Dennis was startled presently to
see the barman, after filling both glasses with a decoction which caught
the light from a dozen merry angles, push one of them in his direction
with the companionable suggestion: "Have one with me."
Only once before had Dennis indulged in anything of a stimulating
nature, and the effect upon his head the next morning had been
sufficient to discourage its repetition, and he informed the barman of
this disagreeable feature.
"Oh!" protested that insinuating Mephisto as he held his glass to the
light the better to concentrate its hypnotic gleam and sparkle upon the
vacillating youth, "there is no headache in this; this is a man's
medicine. Get it down; it will do you good."
Persuaded by the example before him, duped by his depressions, and weary
of his loneliness, Dennis responded to the dubious suggestion with the
guilty haste of one who has decided to let down the moral bars for a
short but sufficient interval.
Palliated from its original rawness by the additions of the barman, the
draught was without special bite or pungency in its passage down his
throat, and Dennis was aware of his indiscretion only by an increasing
glow in the pit of his stomach and a disposition to credit the barman
with a degree of amiability beyond that ordinarily manifested by this
functionary.
The potation, however, had done its work but partially; there remained
the itch of something still to be desired, an elevation yet unattained,
and Dennis saw no other way up the sheer height than by an appeal to the
barman to duplicate his initial effort.
When this had joined its fluent fellows in their several midsts, Dennis
was inexperienced enough to accept, as a matter of course, the genial
disposition toward the world in general which replaced the depression of
the morning.
A native eloquence, long disused, began to urge him to a sort of
confused improvisation.
His data was no longer morose.
"Holdin' on cud do annything," he assured the barman.
"It isn't a bad wurrld, at all, if wan looks at it through grane
glasses.
"Shure, I'm in a bit av a hole at prisint, but not too dape to crawl out
of."
Then after a pause, to enable himself to "shake hands," so to speak,
with the suddenly developed genial aspect of affairs, he informed the
barman, with the philosophy of his potations, that "A laugh will always
mend a kick, providin' th' kick ain't too hard."
This pleased the barman, who responded in his characteristic fashion,
and Dennis, in acknowledgment, substituted the price of breakfast as
fitting return of civilities.
However, this was the climax.
Dennis could advance no farther. His bibulous friend, with apprehensive
disapproval, offered a few diplomatic suggestions involving the
retirement of the young man to his room, which the latter accepted with
an unbalanced gravity that administered its reproof even through the
callous epidermis of the barman.
Arrived at his room, Dennis, influenced by his accelerated circulation,
was convinced that the apartment was oppressively warm, and divested
himself of his coat and waistcoat.
In doing so he detached the dickey from his neck, and as it fell to the
floor the curious tale contained in its predecessors appealed
unmistakably to his enkindled imagination.
Oblivious of the campaign arranged for the day, heedless of the inner
protest, Dennis, with all the abandon of his condition, hastened to
remove the oil paper from the rear of the dickey, and began a race with
his moral lapse in a feverish perusal of the following.