THE PEN AND THE SWORD
Jehân Aziz was meanwhile repenting at leisure in Oriental fashion. That
is, he had succumbed to the perpetual temptation of a string bed set
either in shade or sunshine, to which it is always possible to retire
without, as it were, quite throwing up the sponge. An Englishman who
seeks his bed and turns his face to the wall gives himself away; the
native who does the same thing is not even committed to discouragement.
And Jehân, though he had a racking headache from an attempt to drown
care in a debauch, was not exactly discouraged. His anger, though
impotent, was too strong for that. Indeed, his whole force of character
lay in his fierce arrogance; for he was neither clever nor cunning,
like Burkut Ali. And so when, the day after the disappearance of the
ring, the latter walked coolly in as if nothing had happened, and sat
down on the end of the string bed, Jehân only sat up at the other end
and glowered at the man, without whom he knew himself to be lost.
'Thou hadst best tell the truth, Lord of the Universe,' said Burkut,
with a fine sarcasm, 'for I have heard many lies from the police. My
head whirls with women, and pearls, and God knows what! Is there so
much as foothold anywhere, whence we may deal a blow?'
Jehân felt comforted by that plural, though it roused curiosity to know
what Burkut would be at. In truth, the latter's first desire for
vengeance on Jehân only, had shifted as he had listened to the tales he
bribed the police to tell. Here, it had seemed to him, was the
possibility of greater mischief; mischief which, it was true, could
have no immediate or definite object, but which would add something
fresh to that rock of offence, that stumbling-block in the way of the
alien master, on which it was the duty of the disloyal to cast every
stone they could.
It took five cigarettes, and two whisky-pegs sent for from the
liquor-shop next door, ere Jehân--in the absolute undress which seems
to afford comfort to all Indians in time of trouble--had finished his
tale.
'There is much in it,' remarked Burkut slowly. 'As for the ring, Lateef
hath it. There is none else. And he is a friend of thy house. He worked
there; is it not so? Bethink thee, is there no woman in it who hath a
hold on him?'
Jehân frowned horribly at the indecent suggestion; but even this
insult, he felt, had to be faced. 'None,' he said shortly, 'unless the
jade who escaped.'
Burkut grinned cunningly and shook his head. 'My lord doth not
understand women. Lateef hath kept the ring for the honour, not the
dishonour, of the house. It will go back, if it hath not already gone,
to the safe keeping which hath secured it all these years.'
Jehân winced again under the innuendo. 'Think you it is there already?'
'It will be, if we give him time,' replied Burkut; 'and all the more
surely, if we say it is there already. That is simple, since Nushapore
knows that the guardianship of the signet was not with my lord always.
It is but to withdraw the charge of theft, saying that we have found
the ring returned to its rightful owner, the Nawâbin.'
This time Jehân ground his teeth; he felt his impotence, even against
this man, horribly. 'And then?' he asked sullenly.
'And then we shall be free to watch Lateefa. We can give him time to go
to his hiding-place. And then we can search him--and thy house. But
without the police! We must have no more of _their_ methods. It hath
cost me somewhat to get beyond them now, which sum shall be as a debt
between thee and me--but there must be no more of it!'
'But the pearls?' replied Jehân uneasily; 'the pearls and that jade
Sobrai, whom God curse.'
Burkut gave a sudden blink of his long eyes. 'Say rather, may God curse
those who led virtue astray! 'Tis a tale, my lord, to dissolve heart
and liver! Kidnapped by order, almost by force. Bribed to a _sahib's_
pleasure by pearls. By four pearls taken--oh! most horrible!--from a
string which the head of her house had, with tears, sold to that same
_sahib_! Sold in his honourable indigence, which had not hesitated to
wrench the last ornament from the necks of virtuous women in order to
keep them virtuous----' He paused in his periods for breath.
'_Wâh!_' said Jehân stupidly--his jaw had almost fallen in sheer
surprise--'that runs well. But the proof?'
Burkut smiled a superior smile. 'Thy reluctance to allow publicity. Thy
instant assertion that the pearls were thine. Lo! is not the whole
true, save that Lucanaster _sahib_ gave the pearls to Sobrai? And that
is for him to prove. "_Tie a lie to a truth and the two will sink or
swim together_" is good wisdom!'
'But they must see the pearls--they said so but yesterday. The
magistrate _sahib_----'
'Go to him, and make thy confession. Say that there was but this
untruth. The pearls were not, they had been thine. Say that, even now,
if thou canst but get the girl back in secret----'
'In secret,' echoed Jehân fiercely, 'when already the police----'
Burkut lost patience then. 'Fool! canst not thou see that in that lies
the gain? _Thou_ canst stand aloof, but the hell-doomed must answer!
And not the one; but all. Lo! it is a tale for the bazaars! for the
newspapers! And 'tis not as if thou couldst keep it secret longer. Thou
canst not. Therefore use it against those whose fault it is that thou
canst not.' He paused, suddenly folded his hands in the attitude of
service, and said reverently: 'What orders hath the Pillar of Justice,
the Mighty in Power, the Disposer of Slaves, regarding a necklace of
pearls, and one Sobrai Begum, a woman of his household?'
The sarcasm bit deep, and Jehân Aziz, the Rightful Heir to such power,
swore, this time, horribly, feeling as Burkut intended, that revenge
was better than nothing.
'And I will bring trouble to Miss Leezie also,' he began viciously,
when Burkut cut him short.
'That were unwise. She stands too close to authority. Say it was
Dilarâm----'
'Dilarâm! wherefore?' put in Jehân stupidly.
Burkut's laugh was evil beyond words. 'Because they who touch her and
hers, rouse what they cannot still. Thou needst not say it for certain.
That is the best of lies--there is freedom for the tongue in them. Say
it seems so. And hearken----! Govind the editor will pay for this news.
If thou canst get word, by means of this money, to Sobrai herself, it
would be well. She knows her fate if she comes back to thy house.
Promise her escape if she will say it was Lucanaster.'
Jehân's pious wishes for the immediate destruction of all the
unfaithful came almost cheerfully. He felt infinitely relieved all
round. So far as the ring went, he was inclined to believe that Burkut
was right. It might even now be back in Noormahal's keeping; but,
before making sure of that, it would be as well to see what Lateefa
would do. Then as for the pearls, he at least got some revenge. And the
beauty of it was that a solid substratum of truth, sufficient to save
him from trouble, underlay all the lies. The pearls _were_ his; he
_had_ sold them to Lucanaster _sahib_; Sobrai's _four_ did belong to
that string; she _had_ been beguiled into the cantonments.
It was only that a different complexion had been put upon the facts; a
complexion which might, almost, be the right one, since who was to know
why Sobrai----
Once more the irrational, uncontrollable animal jealousy of the thought
seized on him, and he felt a fierce joy in knowing that the story was
one to rouse a similar feeling in many minds. And wherefore not? Were
not similar stories true? Were they not to be heard every day? Were not
tales of the libertinism, tyranny, and corruption of the _sahibs_ to be
read in every line of the newspapers? And none contradicted them;
therefore they could not be contradicted. So if _this_ tale were not
all true (a faint scruple, that was as much an inheritance as Jehân's
passion for power, lingered in spite of his desire for revenge), there
were plenty of others far worse that could be proved up to the hilt.
Thus, once more, that commonest of all Indian conjuring tricks, the
making of one lie out of two or more truths, started on its evil
errand.
Yet not a mile away from its starting-place rose the Government
College, the Courts of Justice, the Secretariat, the Revenue Offices;
all the plant, the stock, and lock, and block, of an administration
which, take it as you will, is the only one India has ever had, which
has allowed even a whisper to be raised against it without condign
punishment.
At that very moment Sir George Arbuthnot, in his private office, was
reading an article from the day's issue of the _Voice of India_, that
had been brought over amongst the usual selections from the native
newspapers which are submitted by the Press censor.
'_Is it too late_,' he read, '_ere the great crisis comes upon us which
may mean so much to the poorest of the poor, the richest of the rich,
to implore the Government to think, ere it inflicts on the helpless,
the horrible and needless tortures which, there is too much reason to
fear, have been inflicted on our fellow-countrymen in other parts of
unhappy India? May we not once more venture to plead with the
authorities for our poor townsfolk, and point out to them that these
weaker brethren have beliefs which they would rather die than deny? The
sacredness of the cow, for instance, must, and does seem silly,
foolish, to those who eat beef every day, but to our people it is a
dogma. To yield one tittle of it is eternal damnation. So with the
sacredness of their women. This thesis may not be held by our rulers.
We know that it is not. Those of us who have seen London do not need to
be told this, and even a visit to cantonments shows us a different
standard. Tales that are harrowing to the fathers and husbands of India
may be food for laughter elsewhere. Therefore is it that at this crisis
we venture to implore the great English Government to remember that to
us such things are all important. That we cannot, we dare not away with
them_.
'_The late generous announcement of Sir George Arbuthnot, our popular
Lieutenant-Governor, to the effect that no coercion will be used, at
the outset, has greatly soothed the natural alarm of all, raised by
general and credible belief in a plan of campaign similar to those
approved by authorities in all other parts of India. For which
diplomatic utterance we poor folk are grateful, and which emboldens us
to ask the following pertinent questions:_--
'1. _Would it not be possible, by treating ignorant poor folk with
kindness and consideration, to allay their natural fears?_
'2. _Would it not be well to issue stringent rules that no woman shall
be examined for plague even by British soldiers, and that Brahmins,
cows, and family idols be not wilfully ill-treated?_
'3. _Though it is to be feared, alas, that jack-in-offices must
perforce exhibit greed and covetousness, should not some supervision be
exercised to prevent unnecessary removal of valuables, 'et hoc genus
omne,' from plague-stricken houses?_
'4. _Finally, is it not possible, even at this late hour, when Plague
overshadows us with horrible mantles of dread_ (_there are persistent
rumours of three cases in Muhalla Kuzai_), _that the co-operation and
advice of educated natives be invited as to means of avoiding friction.
Comparisons are invidious, but it is not too much to say that Messrs.
Bhola-nâth_----'
'You can leave off there, sir,' said the assistant-secretary. 'It is up
one side of Shark Lane and down the other.'
Sir George turned over the slip to the next with elaborate patience.
'It is ingeniously suggestive,' he remarked. 'By the way, have we
succeeded in getting any more volunteers for search parties?'
'Two, sir; but they are both retired native officers, and as that would
make all but five, military, the commissioner thought----'
'Then we want twenty more. Send a reminder to Shark Lane. And about the
destruction of infected clothes?'
'There is only one thing for it, sir, as we agreed before,' replied the
chief of the police. 'We must have an Englishman with each search
party. It's absurd to expect constables on five rupees a month to keep
their hands from picking and stealing. That fact must be faced. We do
our best; but our department, which is the most difficult to deal with,
is the worst paid.'
'That's a nasty story,' said Sir George suddenly. He had been glancing
through another excerpt. 'Hm, the _Ear of the Wise_, editor Govinda
Râm.'
'He has the best nose, anyhow, for unmitigated filth in India,'
remarked the assistant-secretary; 'but of course one can't notice that
sort of thing.' Here he shrugged his shoulders.
The chief of the police, who was an old military man, squared his.
'There I totally disagree, as his Honour knows. That paper has a
greater effect in Nushapore than all those high-falutin' prints put
together; and that's all my business. I'd have him up, on every
slander, in the criminal courts. You wouldn't allow that sort of thing
about the masters to be circulated in a school? And the more we
remember that our position in India is virtually that of a
schoolmaster, or, if you like it better, trustee to a minority, the
better it will be for that minority.'
'Bravo, Grey!' said Sir George, with a smile. 'You stick to your
colours. And a good many of us agree; only the people at home won't
have it. They can't grasp the situation; they would as soon believe it
to be a grave political danger if the little street boys hung garlands
round Guy Fawkes instead of burning him! Now, about the plague itself.
Is it on us, doctor?
'Yes, sir,' replied a small man who had just been shown in. 'We have
just inspected all the native charitable dispensaries. They have no
proper records, of course, and they deny increased attendance. But they
are almost out of drugs. Then there are three undoubted cases in the
butchers' quarter. But the fishiest part of the city is all about the
Garden Gate. Those tall old houses--there has been a lot of deaths.'
'Poor, high-class Mohammedans,' remarked the assistant-secretary
significantly. 'Rather bad luck.'
Sir George rose and put away his papers. 'Then we had better start. I
think everything is settled. The great point is to keep--to keep normal
as long as possible.'
As he quitted the room the men left in it looked at each other.
'Right so far; but after----' said one.
'Telegraph home for orders; what else can you do nowadays?'
'Do! I'd show them, if I had a free hand. I'd settle this lot.' The
chief of the police slapped his confidential file viciously as he
pocketed it. 'I'd limit their circulation by a little wholesome
bloodletting.'
'Not worth it! They're like the fifty thousand Irish patriots.'
'What patriots?' asked the chief snappishly. He hailed from across St.
George's Channel himself, and was a trifle touchy on the point of his
countrymen's disloyalty.
'The fifty thousand Irish patriots whom the orator said were armed to
the teeth ready to strike a blow for liberty. "Then why the devil don't
they strike it?" asked one of the audience. "Bedad! the polis' won't
let them."'
'Hm! the "polis" wouldn't, if I'd my way,' muttered the old soldier.
Sir George, meanwhile, had gone straight to his wife's sitting-room;
for he was already due at his daily reception of native visitors, and
he had something he wished to tell her.
Scrupulously particular as he was about the absolutely English ordering
of his home-life, there was something fantastic--even to him--to-day in
the sight of Grace in a low rocking-chair, reading Hans Andersen to
Jerry, in a room as dainty and sweet with English flowers as any in an
English country-house. What possible right had this to be here, cheek
by jowl with the city! And between them nothing but Shark Lane!
'Well! George?' she asked almost nervously, for, despite the days that
had passed, her fear lest that unlucky letter should turn up to give
the lie to her husband's protestations on the part of the Government,
lingered with her.
'Only those two ladies, my dear,' he answered with a certain
meritorious air to which he had a perfect right; for he was almost
worked off his legs, and might very excusably have forgotten all about
poor Khôjee's appeal. 'Dawkins inquired. They belong to Jehân Aziz's
pensioners. But there is a discrepancy. He says they are young and
flighty girls, so he is obliged to keep them tight----'
'My dear George! she was as old as old----'
'She need not have been one of the real petitioners, my dear. In fact,
seeing that they are strictly secluded, I doubt if she could be. It is
quite easy to personate, when no one has any means of knowing----'
'And quite easy to say people are young and flighty, when they are not,
_if they cant be seen_. How are we to find out?'
Sir George looked thoughtful. 'I'm afraid we must take the Nawâb's
word. Or, with his approval, we might appoint----'
'Some one who would agree with him,' interrupted Grace impatiently.
'I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go myself. His house is somewhere by
the Garden Gate, isn't it? Surely, George, there can be no objection to
that,' she added, noting his look.
He paused a moment; then said gravely: 'Only one; and that is, that we
must have as little communication with the city as possible for some
time to come, Grace. Yes,' he continued, as she looked at him startled.
'It is on us; but there is no need, of course, to worry for the next
few days at any rate.'
She rose and stood looking out of the window thoughtfully. 'You never
can tell,' she said. 'Father used always to say so to his young
officers: "Remember that in India you cannot tell what the next day may
bring forth."'
'Used he to say that to Mr. Raymond?'
If a bombshell had fallen between those two it could scarcely have
startled them both more.
'George!' exclaimed Lady Arbuthnot reproachfully.
'I beg your pardon, my dear,' he said, going up to her with the
quaintest look of elated affection, as if he were rather proud of
himself; 'I don't know why the deuce I said that--except that--well!
that the best of us can't quite forget--I don't believe you do--we are
all a bit fundamental. However, what I mean is that times have changed
since your father's day.'
'And yet you say every one is fundamental,' she interrupted in a voice
that held both tears and laughter, tenderness and a faint resentment.
'And that is so true--we go back and back.'
'Then I shall go back too,' he replied cheerfully. 'Only I must give
the New Diplomacy a chance. Besides'--here an obstinate look crept over
his face--'as a matter of fact I have to obey orders like every one
else, and my orders are clear; thanks--I don't mean it nastily--to you
and your father. In fact I'm very much obliged to you. It relieves me
of a lot of responsibility. All the same, I can assure that there is
not the very faintest chance of difficulty for the next week at any
rate. There cannot be--for the simple reason that we are not going to
offend any one's prejudices. For instance, no search for plague
patients will be made for the present except by special request of the
natives themselves. So I really cannot see----'
'Is it likely we could?' asked Grace quickly, 'when we cannot see if a
woman is young or old?--when we have to trust interested people for
information? George! I often wonder you men have the courage to rule
India, when you know nothing of its women, except that there has been
one at the bottom of every trouble you have ever had.'
Sir George smiled indulgently. 'Well, my dear, I hope they will keep
their fingers out of this pie.'
It was rather a vain hope, considering that at that very moment Govind
Râm's fingers were all black with lithographic ink, and that the first
edition of his broadsheet was being hawked through the bazaars. There
was quite a crowd round Dilarâm's balcony where, in full dress, she
sat, defiant yet sullen; now refusing to say a word, now letting
herself loose in shrill abuse with disconcerting candour. She find
recruits for such as Miss Leezie? Not she! Though, had she chosen, she
might here had followed tales half-true, half false, that were listened
to, not with eagerness or anger, but with the calm assent which is so
much more dangerous, since it passes on to tell the tale with additions
in the next street.
By evening it was all over the city that Dilarâm and her like were to
be put in gaol for refusing to kidnap girls for the _Sirkar_. And that
the _Sirkar_ in consequence, being hard put to it, would be sure to
make the plague--which the doctors had discovered that very day,
though, God knows, folk had been dying that way for a week--an excuse
to search respectable houses for recruits to Miss Leezie's profession.
Such a thing may seem impossible to those who have not lived in a
native town, but those who have, know that nothing is incredible to its
vast curiosity, its still more vast ignorance. In the dead darkness of
that, as in the darkness of night, all voices are equal.
And so round the smouldering rubbish-heaps and within the closed doors
of the courtyards where the women gathered, as in the bazaar, the tale
was told; not with absolute assurance, but tentatively. So folk said;
and so, no doubt, it had been in the past. It remained to be seen if it
would be so in the present, since _that_ was all poor folk had to
consider. And as the tale was told, a sound of sudden wailing would
rise far or near in the city to prove part of the tale was true.
The plague had come.