An hour later Barlow, mounted on a stalky Cabuli polo-pony, rode to the
Residency, happy over the papers in his pocket, but troubling over how
he could explain their possession and keep the girl out of it. To even
mention the Gulab, unless he fabricated a story, would let escape the
night-ride, and, no doubt, in the perversity of things, Resident Hodson
would want to know where she was and where he had taken her, and insist
on having her produced for an official inquisition. The Resident, a
machine, would sacrifice a native woman without a tremor to the
official gods.
Barlow could formulate no plausible method; he could not hide the death
of the two native messengers, and would simply have to take the stand
of, "Here is this message from His Excellency and as to how I came by
it is of as little importance as an order from the War Office
regulating the colour of thread that attaches buttons to a tunic."
He turned the Cabuli up the wide drive that led to the Residency, the
big white walled bungalow in which Hodson lived, and shook his riding
crop toward Elizabeth who was reading upon the verandah. He swung from
the saddle, and held out his hand to the girl, saying cheerily, "Hello,
Beth! Didn't you ride this morning, or are you back early?"
The novel seemed to require support of the girl's hand, or she had not
observed that of the caller. Her face, always emotionless, was
repellent in its composure as she said; "Father is just inside in his
office with a native, and I fancy it's one of the usual dark things of
mystery, for he asked me to sit here by the window that he might have
both air and privacy; I'm to warn off all who might stand here against
the wall with an open ear."
"I'll pull a chair up and chat to you till he's--"
"No, Captain Barlow--" Barlow winced at this formality--"Father, I'm
sure, wants you in this matter; in fact, I think a _chuprassi_ is on
his way now to your bungalow with the Resident's salaams."
Barlow laid his fingers on the girl's shoulder: "I'm ghastly tired,
Beth. I'll come back to you."
"Yes, India is enervating," she commented in a flat tone.
Barlow had a curious impression that the girl's grey eyes had turned
yellow as she made this observation.
"Ah, Captain, glad you've come," Hodson said, rising and extending a
hand across a flat-topped desk. "I'm--I'm--well--pull a chair. This
is one Ajeet Singh," and he drooped slightly his thin, lean, bald head
toward the Bagree Chief, who stood stiff and erect, one arm in a sling.
At this, Ajeet, knowing it for an informal introduction, put his hand
to his forehead, and said, "Salaam, Sahib."
"_Tulwar_ play, sir, and an appeal for protection to the British, eh?"
and Barlow indicated the arm in the sling.
Still speaking in English Hodson said: "As to that,--" he pursed his
thin lips,--"something dreadful has happened; this man has been mixed
up in a decoity and has come for protection; he wants to turn Approver."
"The usual thing; when these cut-throats are likely to be caught they
turn Judas; to save their own necks they offer a sacrifice of their
comrades."
"Yes," the Resident affirmed, "but I'm glad he came. Perhaps we had
better just sit tight and let him go on--he's only nicely started.
I've practically promised him that if what he confesses is of service
to His Excellency's government I will give him our conditional pardon,
and use what influence I have with the Peshwa. But I fancy that old
Baji Rao is mixed up in it himself."
He turned to the decoit: "Commence again, and tell the truth; and if I
believe, you may be given protection from the British; but as to
Sindhia I have no power to protect his criminals."
The decoit cleared his throat and began: "I, Ajeet Singh, hold
allegiance to the Raja of Karowlee, and am Chief of the Bagrees, who
are decoits."
The Resident held up his hand: "Have patience." He rose, and took from
a little cabinet a small alabaster figure of _Kali_ which he placed
upon the table, saying in English to Barlow, "When these decoits
confess to be made Approvers, half of the confession is lies, for to
swear them on our Bible is as little use as playing a tin whistle. If
he's a Bagree this is his goddess."
In Hindi he said: "Ajeet Singh, if you are a Bagree decoit you are in
the protection of Bhowanee, and you make oath to her."
"Yes, Sahib."
"This is Bhowanee,--that is your name for Kali,--and with obeisance to
her make oath that you will tell the truth."
"Yes, Sahib, it is the proper way."
"Proceed."
The jamadar with the fingers of his two hands clasped to his forehead
in obeisance, declared: "If I, Ajeet Singh, tell that which is not
true, Mother _Kali_, may thy wrath fall upon me and my family."
Then Hodson shifted the black goddess and let it remain upon a corner
of his table, surmising that the sight of it would help.
"Speak, now," the Resident commanded; and the Jamadar proceeded.
"Dewan Sewlal sent to Raja Karowlee for men for a mission, and whether
it was in the letter he sent that _thugs_ should come I know not, but
in our party were thugs, and that led to why I am here."
"What is the difference, Ajeet," Hodson asked sharply. "You are a
decoit who robs and kills, and thugs kill and rob; you are both
disciples of this murderous creature, Kali."
"We who are decoits, while we make offerings to Kali, are not thugs.
They have a chief mission of murder, while we have but desire to gain
for our families from the rich. The thugs came in this wise, sahib.
Bhowanee created them from the sweat of her arms, and gave to them her
tooth for a pick-axe, which is their emblem, a rib for a knife, and the
hem of her garment for a noose to strangle. The hem of her sacred
garment was yellow-and-white, and the _roomal_ that they strangle with
is yellow-and-white. They are thugs, Sahib, and we are decoits."
"A fine distinction, sir," and Barlow laughed.
"Proceed," Hodson commanded.
"We were told by the Dewan to go to the camp of the Pindaris and bring
back the head of Amir Khan."
"Lovely!" Barlow muttered softly; but Hodson started,--a slight rouge
crept over his pale face and he said, "By Gad! this grows interesting,
my dear Captain."
"Absolutely Oriental," Barlow added.
Then when their voices had stilled Ajeet continued: "But Hunsa had
ridden with the Pindari Chief and he knew that he was well guarded, and
that it would be impossible to bring his head in a basket, so we
refused to go on this mission. The Dewan was angry and would not give
us food or pay. Through Hunsa the Dewan sent word that we must obtain
our living in the way of our profession, which is decoity."
"I wonder," Barlow queried.
But Hodson, nodding his head said: "Quite possible; and also quite
probable that the dear avaricious Dewan would claim a share of the loot
if it were of value, jewels especially." He addressed Ajeet, "I have
nothing to do with this; I am not Sindhia."
"True, Sahib Bahadur, but a decoity was made upon a merchant on the
road and he and his men were killed, but also two English _sowars_ were
slain."
"By heavens!" The cool, trained, bloodless machine, that was a British
Resident at a court of intrigue, was startled out of his composure; his
eyes flashed to those of Barlow.
But the Captain, knowing all this beforehand, had an advantage, and he
showed no sign of trepidation.
Then the thin drawn face of the Resident was flattened out by control,
and he commanded the decoit to talk on.
"I tried to save the two sepoys, and one was a sergeant, but I was
stricken down with a wound and it was in the way of treachery."
Ajeet laid a hand upon his wounded shoulder, saying, "When the two
_sepoys_ rode suddenly out of the night into our camp, where there in
the moonlight lay the bodies of the merchant and his men, the Bagrees
were afraid lest the two should make report. They rushed upon the two
riders, and it was then that I was wounded. I would have been killed
but for this protection," and Ajeet rubbed affectionately the beautiful
strong shirt-of-mail that enwrapped his torso.
"And observe, Sahib, the wound is from behind, which is a wound of
treachery. As I rushed to the two and cried to them to be gone, a ball
from a short gun in the hands of some Bagree smote me upon the
shoulder, and this,--" he again touched the shirt-of-mail,--"and my
shoulder-blade turned it from my heart. Even then Hunsa thought I was
dead. And he was in league with the Dewan to obtain for Nana Sahib a
girl of my household, who is called the Gulab because she is as
beautiful as the moon."
At this statement Barlow knew why the man he had beaten with his pistol
had tried to seize the Gulab. It was startling. The leg that had
rested across a knee clamped noisily to the floor, and a smothered
"Damn!" escaped from his lips. What a devilish complicated thing it
was.
Ajeet resumed: "Hunsa rushed to where the Gulab was in hiding and
helped the men who had been sent by Nana Sahib to steal her. Then he
came back to our camp saying that many men had beaten him, and that he
had been forced to flee."
At this vagary Barlow chuckled inwardly.
"What of the two soldiers?" Hodson asked; "why were they here in this
land and at the camp of the Bagrees?"
"I know not, Sahib."
"Were the bodies robbed by your men--they would be--did they find
papers that would indicate the two were messengers?" and the Resident's
bloodless fingers that clasped a pen were trembling with the
suppression of the awful interest he strove to hide, for he knew, as
well as Barlow, what their mission was.
"Yes, Sahib, they were stripped and the bodies thrown in the pit with
the others. Eight rupees were taken, but as to papers I know nothing."
"Where is the woman you call the Gulab?"
"She will be in the hands of Nana Sahib," Ajeet answered; "and because
of that I have come to confess so your Honour will save my life from
him for he will make accusation that I was Chief of those who killed
the soldiers of the British; and that the Sahib will cause to have
returned to me the Gulab."
The Resident took from a drawer a form, and his pen scratched irritably
at blanks here and there. He tossed it over to Barlow saying, "I'm
going to give this decoit this provisional pardon; perhaps it will nail
him. What he has confessed is of value. You translate this to him
while I think; I can't make mistakes--I must not."
Captain Barlow read to Ajeet the pardon, which was the form adopted by
the British government to be issued to certain thugs and decoits who
became spies, called Approvers, for the British.
"You, Ajeet Singh, are promised exemption from the punishment of death
and transportation beyond seas for all past offences, and such
reasonable indulgence as your services may seem to merit, and may be
compatible with your safe custody on condition:--1st, that you make
full confession of all the decoities in which you have been engaged;
2nd, that you mention truly the names of all your associates in these
crimes, and assist to the utmost of your power in their arrest and
conviction. If you act contrary to these conditions--conceal any of
the circumstances of the decoities in which you have been
engaged--screen any of your friends--attempt to escape--or accuse any
innocent person--you shall be considered to have forfeited thereby all
claims to such exemption and indulgence."
When the Captain had finished interpreting this the Resident passed it
to the decoit, saying: "This will protect you from the British. You
are now bound to the British; and I want you to bring me any papers
that may have been found upon the two soldiers. Bring here this woman,
the Gulab, if you can find her. Go now."
When Ajeet, with a deep salaam, had gone from the room Hodson threw
himself back in his chair wearily and sighed. Then he said: "A woman!
the jamadar was lying--all that stuff about Nana Sahib. There's been
some deviltry; they've used this woman to trap the messengers; that's
India. It's the papers they were after; they must have known they were
coming; and they've hidden the woman. We've got to lay hands upon her,
Captain--she's the key-note."