Dr. Wade was sitting in the veranda smoking and reading an English paper
that had arrived by that morning’s mail, when Isobel returned.
“Good morning, Doctor. Is uncle back?”
“Not yet. He told me he might be half an hour late, and that I was to
come round and amuse you until he came back.”
“So in my absence you have been amusing yourself, Doctor. I have been
round at Mrs. Hunter’s; she is going to have a juggler there this
evening, and we are all to go.”
“Yes, I got a chit from her this morning. I have seen scores of them,
but I make a point of never missing an exhibition when I get the chance.
I hate anything I don’t understand, and I go with the faint hope of
being able to find things out, though I know perfectly well that I shall
not do so.”
“Then you think it is not all quite natural, Doctor?”
“I don’t say it is not natural, because we don’t know what all the
natural laws are, but I say that some of the things I have seen
certainly are not to be accounted for by anything we do know. It is not
often that the jugglers show their best tricks to the whites--they know
that, as a rule, we are altogether skeptical; but I have seen at native
courts more than once the most astounding things--things absolutely
incomprehensible and inexplicable. I don’t suppose we are going to see
anything of that sort tonight, though Mrs. Hunter said in her note that
they had heard from the native servant that this man was a famous one.
“There is a sect of people in India, I don’t mean a caste, but a sort
of secret society, who, I believe, claim to be able by some sort of
influence to suspend altogether the laws of nature. I do not say that
I believe them--as a scientific man, it is my duty not to believe
them; but I have seen such things done by some of the higher class of
jugglers, and that under circumstances that did not seem to admit of
the possibility of deception, that I am obliged to suspend my judgment,
which, as you may imagine, my dear, is exceedingly annoying to me; but
some of them do possess to a considerable extent what the Scotch call
second sight, that is to say, the power of foreseeing events in the
future. Of that I am morally certain; I have seen proofs of it over and
over again. For example, once an old fakir, whom I had cured of a badly
ulcerated limb, came up just as I was starting on a shooting expedition.
“‘Do not go out today,’ he said. ‘I foresee evil for you. I saw you last
night brought back badly wounded.’
“‘But if I don’t go your dream will come wrong,’ I said.
“He shook his head.
“‘You will go in spite of what I say,’ he said; ‘and you will suffer,
and others too;’ and he looked at a group of shikaris, who were standing
together, ready to make a start.
“‘How many men are there?’ he said.
“‘Why, six of course,’ I replied.
“‘I see only three,’ he said, ‘and three dull spots. One of those I
see is holding his matchlock on his shoulder, another is examining his
priming, the third is sitting down by the tire. Those three will come
back at the end of the day; the other three will not return alive.’
“I felt rather uncomfortable, but I wasn’t, as I said to myself--I was a
good deal younger then, my dear--such a fool as to be deterred from what
promised to be a good day’s sport by such nonsense as this; and I went.
“We were going after a rogue elephant that had been doing a lot of
damage among the natives’ plantations. We found him, and a savage brute
he turned out to be. He moved just as I fired, and though I hit him, it
was not on the fatal spot, and he charged right down among us. He caught
the very three men the fakir said were doomed, and dashed the life out
of them; then he came at me. The bearer had run off with my second gun,
and he seized me and flung me up in the air.
“I fell in a tree, but broke three of my ribs and one of my arms;
fortunately, though the beast tried to get at me, I was out of his
reach, and the tree was too strong for him to knock down. Then another
man who was with me came up and killed him, and they got me down and
carried me back, and I was weeks before I was about again. That was
something more than a coincidence, I think. There were some twenty men
out with us, and just the four he had pointed out were hurt, and no
others.
“I have seen scores of other cases in which these predictions have
come true, especially in cases of disease; though I grant that here the
predictions often bring about their own fulfilment. If a native is told
by a fakir, or holy man, that he is going to die, he makes no struggle
to live. In several cases I have seen natives, whose deaths have been
predicted, die, without, as far as my science could tell me, any disease
or ailment whatever that should have been fatal to them. They simply
sank--died, I should say, from pure fright. But putting aside this
class, I have seen enough to convince me that some at least among these
fanatics do possess the power of second sight.”
“That is very extraordinary, Doctor. Of course I have heard of second
sight among certain old people in Scotland, but I did not believe in
it.”
“I should not have believed in it if I had not seen the same thing here
in India. I naturally have been interested in it, and have read pretty
well everything that has been written about second sight among the
Highlanders; and some of the incidents are so well authenticated that I
scarcely see how they can be denied. Of course, there is no accounting
for it, but it is possible that among what we may call primitive people
there are certain intuitions or instincts, call them what you like, that
have been lost by civilized people.
“The power of scent in a dog is something so vastly beyond anything we
can even imagine possible, that though we put it down to instinct, it is
really almost inexplicable. Take the case that dogs have been known to
be taken by railway journeys of many hundred miles and to have found
their way home again on foot. There is clearly the possession of a power
which is to us absolutely unaccountable.
“But here comes your uncle; he will think I have been preaching a sermon
to you if you look so grave.”
But Major Hannay was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice
Isobel.
“Has anything gone wrong, Major?” the Doctor asked, as he saw his face.
“I have just learnt,” the Major said, “that some more chupaties were
brought last night. It is most annoying. I have questioned several of
the native officers, and they profess to have no idea whence they came
or what is the meaning of them. I wish we could get to the bottom of
this thing; it keeps the troops in a ferment. If I could get hold of one
of these messengers, I would get out of him all he knew, even if I had
to roast him to make him tell.”
“My dear uncle,” Isobel said reprovingly, “I am sure you don’t mean what
you say.”
“I don’t know,” he said, half laughing; “I should certainly consider
myself perfectly justified in taking uncommonly strong steps to try
to get to the bottom of this business. The thing is going on all over
India, and it must mean something, and it is all the worse if taken in
connection with this absurd idea about the greased cartridges. I grant
that it was an act of folly greasing them at all, when we know the
idiotic prejudices the natives have; still, it could hardly have
been foreseen that this stir would have been made. The issue of the
cartridges has been stopped, but when the natives once get an idea into
their minds it is next to impossible to disabuse them of it. It is a
tiresome business altogether.”
“Tiffin ready, sahib,” Rumzan interrupted, coming out onto the veranda.
“That is right, Rumzan. Now, Isobel, let us think of more pleasant
subjects.”
“We are to go into the Hunters’ this evening, uncle,” Isobel said, as
she sat down. “There is going to be a famous juggler there. There is a
note for you from Mrs. Hunter on the side table.”
“Very well, my dear; some of these fellows are well worth seeing.
Bathurst is coming in to dinner. I saw him as he was starting this
morning, just as he was going down to the lines, and he accepted. He
said he should be able to get back in time. However, I don’t suppose he
will mind going round with us. I hope you will come, Doctor, to make up
the table. I have asked the two boys to come in.”
“I shall have to become a permanent boarder at your establishment,
Major. It is really useless my keeping a cook when I am in here nearly
half my time. But I will come. I am off for three days tomorrow. A
villager came in this morning to beg me to go out to rid them of a
tiger that has established himself in their neighborhood, and that is an
invitation I never refuse, if I can possibly manage to make time for it.
Fortunately everyone is so healthy here at present that I can be very
well spared.”
At dinner the subject of juggling came up again, and the two subalterns
expressed their opinion strongly that it was all humbug.
“Dr. Wade believes in it, Mr. Wilson,” Isobel said.
“You don’t say so, Doctor; I should have thought you were the last sort
of man who would have believed in conjurers.”
“It requires a wise man to believe, Wilson,” the Doctor said; “any fool
can scoff; the wise man questions. When you have been here as long as
I have, and if you ever get as much sense as I have, which is doubtful,
you may be less positive in your ideas, if you can call them ideas.”
“That is one for me,” Wilson said good humoredly, while the others
laughed.
“Well, I have never seen them, Doctor, except those fellows who come
around to the veranda, and I have seen conjurers at home do ever so much
better tricks than they.”
“What do you think of them, Mr. Bathurst?” Isobel asked. “I suppose you
have seen some of the better sort?”
“I do not know what to think of them, Miss Hannay. I used to be rather
of Wilson’s opinion, but I have seen things since that I could not
account for at all. There was a man here two or three months back who
astounded me.”
“Mrs. Hunter said that the girls had had no opportunity of seeing a good
conjurer since they came out, Mr. Bathurst. I suppose they did know this
man you are speaking of being here?”
“He was only here for a few hours, Miss Hannay. I had happened to
meet him before, and he gave me a private performance, which was quite
different to anything I have ever seen, though I had often heard of the
feats he had performed. I was so impressed with them that I can assure
you that for a few days I had great difficulty in keeping my mind upon
my work.”
“What did he do, Mr. Bathurst?”
Bathurst related the feat of the disappearing girl.
“She must have jumped down when you were not looking,” Richards said,
with an air or conviction.
“Possibly,” Bathurst replied quietly; “but as I was within three or
four yards of the pole, and it was perfectly distinct in the light of my
lamp, and as I certainly saw her till she was some thirty or forty
feet up in the air I don’t see how she can have managed it. For, even
supposing she could have sprung down that distance without being hurt,
she would not have come down so noiselessly that I should not have heard
her.”
“Still, if she did not come down that way, how could she have come?”
Wilson said.
“That is exactly what I can’t make out,” Bathurst replied. “If it should
happen to be the same man, and he will do the same thing again, I fancy
you will be as much puzzled as I was.”
After dinner was over the party walked across to Mr. Hunter’s bungalow,
where, in a short time, the other officers, their wives, and all the
other residents at the station were assembled. Chairs were placed in the
veranda for the ladies, and a number of lamps hung on the wall, so that
a strong light was thrown upon the ground in front of it. In addition,
four posts had been driven into the ground some twenty feet from the
veranda, and lamps had been fastened upon them.
“I don’t know whether the juggler will like that,” Mr. Hunter said, “and
I shan’t light them if he objects. I don’t think myself it is quite
fair having a light behind him; still, if he agrees, it will be hardly
possible for him to make the slightest movement without being seen.”
The juggler, who was sitting round at the other side of the house, was
now called up. He and the girl, who followed him, salaamed deeply, and
made an even deeper bow to Bathurst, who was standing behind Isobel’s
chair.
“You must have paid them well, Bathurst,” Major Hannay said. “They have
evidently a lively remembrance of past favors. I suppose they are the
same you were talking about?”
“Yes, they are the same people, Major.” Then he said in the native
dialect to the juggler, “Mr. Hunter has put some posts with lamps behind
you, Rujub, but he hasn’t lit them because he did not know whether you
would object.”
“They can be lighted, sahib. My feats do not depend on darkness. Any
of the sahibs who like to stand behind us can do so if they do not come
within the line of those posts.”
“Let us go out there,” Wilson said to Richards, when the answer was
translated; “we will light the lamps, and we shall see better there than
we shall see here.”
The two went round to the other side and lit the lamps, and the servants
stood a short distance off on either side.
The first trick shown was the well known mango tree. The juggler placed
a seed in the ground, poured some water upon it from a lota, and covered
it with a cloth. In two or three minutes he lifted this, and a plant
four or five inches high was seen. He covered this with a tall basket,
which he first handed round for inspection. On removing this a mango
tree some three feet high, in full bloom, was seen. It was again
covered, and when the basket was removed it was seen to be covered with
ripe fruit, eliciting exclamations of astonishment from those among the
spectators who had not before seen the trick performed.
“Now, Wilson,” the Doctor said, “perhaps you will be kind enough to
explain to us all how this was done?”
“I have no more idea than Adam, Doctor.”
“Then we will leave it to Richards. He promised us at dinner to keep his
eyes well open.”
Richards made no reply.
“How was it done, Mr. Bathurst? It seems almost like a miracle.”
“I am as ignorant as Wilson is, Miss Hannay. I can’t account for it in
any way, and I have seen it done a score of times. Ah! now he is going
to do the basket trick. Don’t be alarmed when you hear the girl cry
out. You may be quite sure that she is not hurt. The father is deeply
attached to her, and would not hurt a hair of her head.”
Again the usual methods were adopted. The basket was placed on the
ground and the girl stepped into it, without the pretense of fear
usually exhibited by the performers.
Before the trick began Major Hannay said to Captain Doolan, “Come round
with me to the side of those boys. I know the first time I saw it done
I was nearly throwing myself on the juggler, and Wilson is a hot headed
boy, and is likely as not to do so. If he did, the man would probably go
off in a huff and show us nothing more. From what Bathurst said, we are
likely to see something unusual.”
As soon as the lid was put down, an apparently angry colloquy took place
between the juggler and the girl inside. Presently the man appeared to
become enraged, and snatching up a long, straight sword from the ground,
ran it three or four times through the basket.
A loud shriek followed the first thrust, and then all was silent.
Some of the ladies rose to their feet with a cry of horror, Isobel among
them. Wilson and Richards both started to rush forward, but were seized
by the collars by the Major and Captain Doolan.
“Will you open the basket?” the juggler said quietly to Mrs. Hunter. As
she had seen the trick before she stepped forward without hesitation,
opened the lid of the basket and said, “It is empty.” The juggler took
it up, and held it up, bottom upwards.
“What on earth has become of the girl?” Wilson exclaimed.
As he spoke she passed between him and Richards back to her father’s
side.
“Well, I am dashed,” Wilson murmured. “I would not have believed it
if fifty people had sworn to me they had seen it.” He was too much
confounded even to reply, when the Doctor sarcastically said: “We are
waiting for your explanation, gentlemen.”
“Will you ask him, Major,” Richards said, as he wiped his forehead with
his pocket handkerchief, “to make sure that she is solid?”
The Major translated the request, and the girl at once came across, and
Richards touched her with evident doubt as to whether on not she were
really flesh and blood.
There was much curiosity among those who had seen jugglers before as
to what would be the next feat, for generally those just seen were the
closing ones of a performance, but as these were the first it seemed
that those to follow must be extraordinary indeed.
The next feat was the one shown to Bathurst, and was performed exactly
as upon that occasion, except that as the girl rose beyond the circle
of light she remained distinctly visible, a sort of phosphoric light
playing around her. Those in the veranda had come out now, the juggler
warning them not to approach within six feet of the pole.
Higher and higher the girl went, until those below judged her to be at
least a hundred and fifty feet from the ground. Then the light died out,
and she disappeared from their sight. There was silence for a minute or
two, and then the end of the pole could be seen descending without
her. Another minute, and it was reduced to the length it had been at
starting.
The spectators were silent now; the whole thing was so strange and
mysterious that they had no words to express their feeling.
The juggler said something which Mr. Hunter translated to be a request
for all to resume their places.
“That is a wonderful trick,” the Doctor said to Bathurst. “I have never
seen it done that way before, but I once saw a juggler throw up a rope
into the air; how high it went I don’t know, for, like this, it was done
at night, but it stood up perfectly stiff, and the juggler’s attendant
climbed up. He went higher and higher, and we could hear his voice
coming down to us. At last it stopped, and then suddenly the rope fell
in coils on the ground, and the boy walked quietly in, just as that girl
has done now.”
The girl now placed herself in the center of the open space.
“You will please not to speak while this trick is being performed,” the
juggler said; “harm might come of it. Watch the ground near her feet.”
A minute later a dark object made its appearance from the ground. It
rose higher and higher with an undulating movement.
“By Jove, it is a python!” the Doctor whispered in Bathurst’s ear. A
similar exclamation broke from several of the others, but the juggler
waved his hand with an authoritative hush. The snake rose until its head
towered above that of the girl, and then began to twine itself round
her, continuously rising from the ground until it enveloped her with
five coils, each thicker than a man’s arm. It raised its head above hers
and hissed loudly and angrily; then its tail began to descend, gradually
the coils unwound themselves; lower and lower it descended until it
disappeared altogether.
It was some time before anyone spoke, so great was the feeling of
wonder. The Doctor was the first to break the silence.
“I have never seen that before,” he said, “though I have heard of it
from a native Rajah.”
“Would the sahibs like to see more?” the juggler asked.
The two Miss Hunters, Mrs. Rintoul, and several of the others said they
had seen enough, but among the men there was expressed a general wish to
see another feat.
“I would not have missed this for anything,” the Doctor said. “It would
be simple madness to throw away such a chance.”
The ladies, therefore, with the exception of Mrs. Hunter, Mrs. Doolan,
and Isobel, retired into the house.
“You must all go on one side now,” the juggler said, “for it is only on
one side what I am now going to do can be seen.”
He then proceeded to light a fire of charcoal. When he had done this,
he said, “The lights must now be extinguished and the curtains drawn, so
that the light will not stream out from the house.”
As soon as this was done he poured a powder over the fire, and by its
faint light the cloud of white smoke could be seen.
“Now I will show you the past,” he said. “Who speaks?”
There was silence, and then Dr. Wade said, “Show me my past.”
A faint light stole up over the smoke--it grew brighter and brighter;
and then a picture was clearly seen upon it.
It was the sea, a house standing by itself in a garden, and separated
from the water only by a road. Presently the figure of a girl appeared
at the gate, and, stepping out, looked down the road as if waiting for
someone. They could make out all the details of her dress and see her
features distinctly. A low exclamation broke from the Doctor, then the
picture gradually faded away.
“The future!” the juggler said, and gradually an Indian scene appeared
on the smoke. It was a long, straight road, bordered by a jungle. A
native was seen approaching; he paused in the foreground.
“That is you, Doctor!” Mr. Hunter exclaimed; “you are got up as a
native, but it’s you.”
Almost at the same moment two figures came out from the jungle. They
were also in native dress.
“You and Miss Hannay,” the Doctor said in a low tone to Bathurst,
“dressed like a native and dyed.” But no one else detected the disguise,
and the picture again faded away.
“That is enough, Rujub,” Bathurst said, for he felt Isobel lean back
heavily against the hand which he held at the back of her chair, and
felt sure that she had fainted.
“Draw back the curtains, someone; I fancy this has been too much for
Miss Hannay.”
The curtains were thrown back, and Mrs. Hunter, running in, brought out
a lamp. The Doctor had already taken his place by Isobel’s side.
“Yes, she has fainted,” he said to Bathurst; “carry her in her chair as
she is, so that she may be in the room when she comes to.”
This was done.
“Now, gentlemen,” the Doctor said, “you had better light the lamps again
out here, and leave the ladies and me to get Miss Hannay round.”
When the lamps were lit it was evident that the whole of the men were a
good deal shaken by what they had seen.
“Well,” Mr. Hunter said, “they told me he was a famous juggler, but that
beat anything I have seen before. I have heard of such things frequently
from natives, but it is very seldom that Europeans get a chance of
seeing them.”
“I don’t want to see anything of the sort again,” Major Hannay said;
“it shakes one’s notions of things in general. I fancy, Hunter, that
we shall want a strong peg all round to steady our nerves. I own that I
feel as shaky as a boy who thinks he sees a ghost on his way through a
churchyard.”
There was a general murmur of agreement and the materials were quickly
brought.
“Well, Wilson, what do you and Richards think of it?” the Major went on,
after he had braced himself up with a strong glass of brandy and water.
“I should imagine you both feel a little less skeptical than you did two
hours ago.”
“I don’t know what Richards feels, Major, but I know I feel like a fool.
I am sorry, Bathurst, for what I said at dinner; but it really didn’t
seem to me to be possible what you told us about the girl going up into
the air and not coming down again. Well, after I have seen what I have
seen this evening, I won’t disbelieve anything I hear in future about
these natives.”
“It was natural enough that you should be incredulous,” Bathurst said.
“I should have been just as skeptical as you were when I first came out,
and I have been astonished now, though I have seen some good jugglers
before.”
At this moment the Doctor came out again.
“Miss Hannay is all right again now, Major. I am not surprised at her
fainting; old hand as I am at these matters, and I think that I have
seen as much or more juggling than any man in India. I felt very queer
myself, specially at the snake business. As I said, I have seen that
ascension trick before, but how it is done I have no more idea than a
child. Those smoke scenes, too, are astonishing. Of course they could be
accounted for as thrown upon a column of white smoke by a magic lantern,
but there was certainly no magic lantern here. The juggler was standing
close to me, and the girl was sitting at his feet. I watched them both
closely, and certainly they had no apparatus about them by which such
views could be thrown on the smoke.”
“You recognized the first scene, I suppose, Doctor?” Bathurst asked.
“Perfectly. It took me back twenty-five years. It was a cottage near
Sidmouth, and was correct in every minute detail. The figure was that of
the young lady I married four years afterwards. Many a time have I seen
her standing just like that, as I went along the road to meet her from
the little inn at which I was stopping; the very pattern of her dress,
which I need hardly say has never been in my mind all these years, was
recalled to me.
“Had I been thinking of the scene at the time I could have accounted for
it somehow, upon the theory that in some way or other the juggler was
conscious of my thought and reflected it upon the smoke--how, I don’t at
all mean to say; but undoubtedly there exists, to some extent, the power
of thought reading. It is a mysterious subject, and one of which we know
absolutely nothing at present, but maybe in upwards of a hundred years
mankind will have discovered many secrets of nature in that direction.
But I certainly was not thinking of that scene when I spoke and said the
‘past.’ I had no doubt that he would show me something of the past,
but certainly no particular incident passed through my mind before that
picture appeared on the smoke.”
“The other was almost as curious, Doctor,” Captain Doolan said, “for
it was certainly you masquerading as a native. I believe the other was
Bathurst; it struck me so; and he seemed to be running off with some
native girl. What on earth could that all mean?”
“It is no use puzzling ourselves about it,” the Doctor said. “It may or
may not come true. I have no inclination to go about dressed out as a
native at present, but there is no saying what I may come to. There
is quite enough for us to wonder at in the other things. The mango and
basket tricks I have seen a dozen times, and am no nearer now than I
was at first to understanding them. That ascension trick beats me
altogether, and there was something horribly uncanny about the snake.”
“Do you think it was a real snake, Doctor?”
“That I cannot tell you, Richards. Every movement was perfectly natural.
I could see the working of the ribs as it wound itself round the girl,
and the quivering of its tongue as it raised its head above her. At any
other time I should be ready to take my affidavit that it was a python
of unusual size, but at the present moment I should not like to give a
decided opinion about anything connected with the performance.”
“I suppose it is no use asking the juggler any questions, Hunter?” one
of the other men said.
“Not in the least; they never do answer questions. The higher class of
jugglers treat their art as a sort of religious mystery, and there is
no instance known of their opening their lips, although large sums have
frequently been offered them. In the present case you will certainly ask
no questions, for the man and girl have both disappeared with the box
and apparatus and everything connected with them. They must have
slipped off directly the last trick was over, and before we had the lamp
lighted. I sent after him at once, but the servant could find no signs
of him. I am annoyed because I have not paid them.”
“I am not surprised at that,” Dr. Wade said. “It is quite in accordance
with what I have heard of them. They live by exhibiting what you may
call their ordinary tricks; but I have heard from natives that when they
show any what I may call supernatural feats, they do not take money. It
is done to oblige some powerful Rajah, and as I have said, it is only on
a very few occasions that Europeans have ever seen them. Well, we may as
well go in to the ladies. I don’t fancy any of them would be inclined to
come out onto the veranda again this evening.”
No one was indeed inclined even for talk, and in a very short time the
party broke up and returned home.
“Come and smoke a pipe with me, Bathurst, before you turn in,” the
Doctor said, as they went out. “I don’t think either of us will be
likely to go to sleep for some time. What is your impression of all
this?”
“My impression, certainly, is that it is entirely unaccountable by any
laws with which we are acquainted, Doctor.”
“That is just my idea, and always has been since I first saw any
really good juggling out here. I don’t believe in the least in anything
supernatural, but I can quite believe that there are many natural laws
of which at present we are entirely ignorant. I believe the knowledge of
them at one time existed, but has been entirely lost, at any rate among
Western peoples. The belief in magic is as old as anything we have
knowledge of. The magicians at the court of Pharaoh threw down their
rods and turned them into serpents. The Witch of Endor called up the
spirit of Samuel. The Greeks, by no means a nation of fools, believed
implicitly in the Oracles. Coming down to comparatively later times, the
workers of magic burnt their books before St. Paul. It doesn’t say, mind
you, that those who pretended to work magic did so; but those who worked
magic.
“Early travelers in Persia and India have reported things they saw far
surpassing any we have witnessed this evening, and there is certainly a
sect in India at present, or rather a body of men, and those, as far as
I have been able to learn, of an exceptionally intelligent class, who
believe that they possess an almost absolute mastery over the powers of
nature. You see, fifty years back, if anyone had talked about traveling
at fifty miles an hour, or sending a message five thousand miles in a
minute, he would have been regarded as a madman. There may yet be other
discoveries as startling to be made.
“When I was in England I heard something of a set of people in America
who called themselves Spiritualists, some of whom--notably a young man
named Home--claimed to have the power of raising themselves through
the air. I am far from saying that such a power exists; it is of course
contrary to what we know of the laws of nature, but should such a power
exist it would account for the disappearance of the girl from the top
of the pole. Highland second sight, carried somewhat farther, and united
with the power of conveying the impressions to others, would account
for the pictures on the smoke, that is, supposing them to be true, and
personally I own that I expect they will prove to be true--unlikely as
it may seem that you, I, and Miss Hannay will ever be going about in
native attire.”
By this time they had reached the Doctor’s bungalow, and had comfortably
seated themselves.
“There is one thing that flashed across me this evening,” Bathurst said.
“I told you, that first evening I met Miss Hannay, that I had a distinct
knowledge of her face. You laughed at me at the time, and it certainly
seemed absurd, but I was convinced I was not wrong. Now I know how it
was; I told you at dinner today about the feat of the girl going up and
not coming down again; but I did not tell you--for you can understand it
is a thing that I should not care to talk much about--that he showed me
a picture like those we saw tonight.
“It was a house standing in a courtyard, with a high wall round it. I
did not particularly observe the house. It was of the ordinary native
type, and might, for anything I know, be the house in the middle of this
station used as a courthouse by Hunter, and for keeping stores, and
so on. I don’t say it was that; I did not notice it much. There was a
breach in the outside wall, and round it there was a fierce fight going
on. A party of officers and civilians were repelling the assault of a
body of Sepoys. On the terraced roof of the house others were standing
firing and looking on, and I think engaged in loading rifles were two or
three women. One of them I particularly noticed; and, now I recall it,
her face was that of Miss Hannay; of that I am absolutely certain.”
“It is curious, lad,” the Doctor said, after a pause; “and the picture,
you see, has so far come true that you have made the acquaintance with
one of the actors whom you did not previously know.”
“I did not believe in the truth of it, Doctor, and I do not believe in
it now. There was one feature in the fight which was, as I regret to
know, impossible.”
“And what was that, Bathurst?”
Bathurst was silent for a time.
“You are an old friend, Doctor, and you will understand my case, and
make more allowances for it than most people would. When I first came
out here I dare say you heard some sort of reports as to why I had left
the army and had afterwards entered the Civil Service.”
“There were some stupid rumors,” the Doctor said, “that you had gone
home on sick leave just after the battle of Chillianwalla, and had then
sold out, because you had shown the white feather. I need not say that I
did not give any credit to it; there is always gossip flying about as to
the reasons a man leaves the army.”
“It was quite true, Doctor. It is a hideous thing to say, but
constitutionally I am a coward.”
“I cannot believe it,” the Doctor said warmly. “Now that I know you, you
are the last man of whom I would credit such a thing.”
“It is the bane of my life,” Bathurst went on. “It is my misfortune,
for I will not allow it is my fault. In many things I am not a coward.
I think I could face any danger if the danger were a silent one, but I
cannot stand noise. The report of a gun makes me tremble all over, even
when it is a blank cartridge that is fired. When I was born my father
was in India. A short time before I came into the world my mother had a
great fright. Her house in the country was broken into by burglars, who
entered the room and threatened to blow out her brains if she moved;
but the alarm was given, the men servants came down armed, there was
a struggle in her room, pistol shots were fired, and the burglars
were overpowered and captured. My mother fainted and was ill for weeks
afterwards--in fact, until the time I was born; and she died a few days
later, never having, the doctor said, recovered from the shock she had
suffered that night.
“I grew up a weakly, timid boy--the sort of boy that is always bullied
at school. My father, as you know, was a general officer, and did
not return home until I was ten years old. He was naturally much
disappointed in me, and I think that added to my timidity, for it grew
upon me rather than otherwise. Morally, I was not a coward. At school I
can say that I never told a lie to avoid punishment, and my readiness to
speak the truth did not add to my popularity among the other boys, and I
used to be called a sneak, which was even more hateful than being called
a coward.
“As I grew up I shook off my delicacy, and grew, as you see, into a
strong man. I then fought several battles at school; I learnt to ride,
and came to have confidence in myself, and though I had no particular
fancy for the army my father’s heart was so set on it that I offered no
objection. That the sound of a gun was abhorrent to me I knew, for the
first time my father put a gun in my hand and I fired it, I fainted, and
nothing would persuade me to try again. Still I thought that this was
the result of nervousness as to firing it myself, and that I should get
over it in time.
“A month or two after I was gazetted I went out to India with the
regiment, and arrived just in time to get up by forced marches to take
part in the battle of Chillianwalla. The consequence was that up to that
time I literally had heard no musketry practice.
“Of the events of that battle I have no remembrance whatever; from
the moment the first gun was fired to the end of the day I was as one
paralyzed. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I moved mechanically; but
happily my will or my instinct kept me in my place in the regiment.
When all was over, and silence followed the din, I fell to the ground
insensible. Happily for me the doctors declared I was in a state of high
fever, and I so remained for a fortnight. As soon as I got better I was
sent down the country, and I at once sent in my papers and went home. No
doubt the affair was talked of, and there were whispers as to the real
cause of my illness. My father was terribly angry when I returned home
and told him the truth of the matter. That his son should be a coward
was naturally an awful blow to him. Home was too unhappy to be endured,
and when an uncle of mine, who was a director on the Company’s Board,
offered me a berth in the Civil Service, I thankfully accepted it,
believing that in that capacity I need never hear a gun fired again.
“You will understand, then, the anxiety I am feeling owing to these
rumors of disaffection among the Sepoys, and the possibility of anything
like a general mutiny.
“It is not of being killed that I have any fear; upon the contrary, I
have suffered so much in the last eight years from the consciousness
that the reason why I left the army was widely known, that I should
welcome death, if it came to me noiselessly; but the thought that if
there is trouble I shall assuredly not be able to play my part like a
man fills me with absolute horror, and now more than ever.
“So you will understand now why the picture I saw, in which I was
fighting in the middle of the Sepoys, is to me not only improbable, but
simply impossible. It is a horrible story to have to tell. This is the
first time I have opened my lips on the subject since I spoke to my
father, but I know that you, both as a friend and a doctor, will pity
rather than blame me.”