"By Jove, but it is good to be back again!" said Upward, in tones of
intense satisfaction as he sat down to tiffin in his bungalow at
Shalalai. "The garden is looking splendid, and then all the greenery in
the different compounds after those beastly stones and junipers--I'm
sick of the whole circus. Only a year or two more, thank goodness."
"Yes, it is always nice to be at home again," assented his wife. "Nesta
must be sick of roughing it, too."
"Well, I won't say that," answered the girl. "I'll only agree that I am
rather glad to be back again."
"So they will be at the club this afternoon," laughed Upward. "By the
way, why don't those children come in? They are always late. It's a
perfect nuisance."
A wrangle of voices, and the children did come in. Racket in hand, they
were disputing vehemently as to the rights and wrongs of a game they had
been obliged to break off in the middle of.
"Wonder how long Campian will stick at Jermyn's? I believe the old
chap's getting a bit smashed there."
"Nonsense, Ernest," laughed his wife. "You're always thinking someone
or other must be getting `smashed.'"
"Why shouldn't he? She's a deuced fine girl that niece of Jermyn's--and
then just think what a lot they'll see of each other. What do you think
about it, Miss Cheriton?"
"Oh, I don't know. I've never thought about it."
"Too black," put in Lily the irrepressible. "If he could run the
gauntlet of Nesta all this time, I don't think he's likely to go smash
there."
"Of course you're an authority on such matters, Lily," laughed her
mother. "Ernest, you see now what notions you put into the children's
heads."
"I don't want any tiffin," pronounced Hazel. "I only want to get at
those nectarines. They just are good. Bother camp! I like it much
better here."
The large, lofty, cool room in which they were was hung around with
trophies of the chase, all spoils of their owner's unerring rifle. One
end of the room was hung with the skin of an immense tiger, draped, as
it were, from ceiling to floor, the other with that of a somewhat
smaller one, which had clawed a native out of a tree and killed him
before Upward could get in a shot. Hard by was a finely marked
panther-skin whose erewhile wearer had badly mauled Upward himself!
Panther and jungle cat and cheetul and others were all represented, and
with horns of the blackbuck and sambur, tastefully disposed, produced an
effect that was picturesque and unique. It served another purpose, too,
as Upward used to say in his dry way. It gave people something to talk
about when they came to tiffin and dinner. It was sure to set them
comparing notes, or swearing they had seen or shot much bigger ones, and
so forth. At any rate, it kept them going.
The bungalow was surrounded on three sides by a garden of which Upward
was justly proud, for it was all of his own making. In front a trim
lawn, bright with flower beds, and beyond this a tennis court, of which
his neighbours did him the favour to make constant use. They likewise
did him the favour to plant their bicycles, dogs, and other impedimenta,
about his flower beds, or against the great crimson and purple
convolvulus blossoms entwining his summer-house, whereat he fumed
inwardly, but suffered in silence, from a misplaced good nature; and,
after all, it was a little way they had in Shalalai. Peaches and
nectarines and plums attained a high degree of excellence in their own
department, likewise every kind of green vegetable--and the verandah was
green and cool with all sorts of ferns.
"I wonder none of the garrison have been up, Miss Cheriton," he went on.
"They can't have got wind that you're back. What's that? Some of them
already?" For Tinkles, suddenly leaping from her chair, darted out into
the hall, barking shrilly and making a prodigious fuss. At the same
time steps were heard on the verandah.
"That's Fleming," said Upward, recognising the voice--then going out
into the hall. "Come in here, old chap. Well, what's the news?"
"There is some news, but--Hallo! Excuse me, Mrs Upward. Didn't know
you were at tiffin."
"It's all right. We're just done. Get into that chair and have a
`peg'--and then we can hear the _kubbur_."
"Well, it's not very definite as yet," replied Fleming, subsiding into
the chair indicated. "Thanks, Upward--only a small one, I've just had
one at the club. They say--By the bye, didn't you come in from Mehriab
yesterday?"
"Yes, of course. But why?"
"Was it all right?"
"Was what all right?"
"Why, the look of things?"
"We didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Jermyn and his niece and
Campian came down with us to see us off. There was nothing wrong then.
But why? What do they suspect?"
"Dunlop had occasion to wire officially to the stationmaster at Mehriab
yesterday afternoon and could get no reply. He kept on wiring, but it
was no good."
"Maybe some _budmash_ has been playing gooseberry with the wire."
"Cutting it? No. The communication is quite all right with the
stations next to Mehriab on either side."
"It was all right yesterday at Mehriab, for I sent a couple of wires
myself," said Upward. "Perhaps the telegraph clerk is taken ill."
"It might be that of course. But there's a rumour flying around the
bazaar this morning that Umar Khan has been raiding up the Kachin
valley. What if he has stuck up Mehriab station to plunder the safe?"
Upward whistled.
"Yes--that might be," he said. "Only I wish he had done it while we
were all there. I had two rifles and a shot gun and a six shooter. I
think among us all--myself and Campian and old Jermyn and my two
foresters--we'd have given Mr Umar Khan very particular what for. But
what should bring him up to those parts? He was supposed to be making
the other way when he cut up those two `gharri-wallahs.'"
"I don't know. It's only bazaar rumour, mind."
"Now I think of it," went on Upward, "there did seem rather more than
usual of the evil-looking _soors_ hanging about the platform. They'd
all got tulwars too. By Jove--what if they were only waiting till the
train had left to break out, and Ghazi the whole show? Oh, Lord! That
puts things in a new light. There were enough of them to do it too."
Fleming looked grave. "Then what about your friend and the Jermyns?" he
said.
"Heavens, yes. Perhaps the _soors_ waited until they had gone. Hallo,
Miss Cheriton. What's the matter?"
For Nesta had gone as pale as death--looking as if she would faint dead
away.
"It's nothing. I shall be all right again in a minute. Why do you
suggest such horrible things?" she broke off quite angrily. "It is
enough to upset one."
Both men looked foolish--and all stared. The outburst was so unlike
her.
"Let's go and see if we can get at something definite," said Upward,
jumping up. "Did you drive here, Fleming?"
"No--biked."
"All right I'll jump on mine and we'll spin round to McIvor's. He may
have got _kubbur_ of sorts--but these Politicals are so dashed close."
A three minutes' spin along the level military road brought the two men
to the Acting Political's. That official looked grave at sight of
Upward. He guessed his errand--and at once handed him a telegram.
"This is the latest," he said.
It was a long message, but the substance of it was that on the arrival
of the train due at Mehriab that morning at eleven, not a living soul
was in sight, nor was any signal down. The engine-driver slowed down
and advanced cautiously, when the fact of the massacre became apparent.
Then they had been signalled by Colonel Jermyn and his niece, who were
in a great state of horror and distress, and reported that their guest
had been taken away as prisoner by the Ghazis. They and the Colonel's
bearer were taken on to the next station beyond Mehriab, whence they
would return to Shalalai by the afternoon train.
"What's going to be done about it?" said Upward.
"We've started a strong body of Police after them, and two troops of
Sindh Horse are to follow," said the Political.
"Yes, and then they'll cut Campian's throat. In fact I wonder they
didn't already. It looks as if they wanted him ransomed, and if so--by
George--the way to do for him is to start dusting a lot of Police after
them."
The Political was a man of few words. He shrugged his shoulders, and
observed that the matter did not rest with him. He could give them all
the information he had at his disposal, but that was all.
"This wants thinking out, Fleming," said Upward, as they were spinning
along on their bicycles again. "What can be done? What the devil _can_
be done? As sure as they run those Ghazis close--then, goodnight to
Campian. But Jermyn will be here this evening--then we shall get at the
whole story."
The evening train arrived in due course, bringing with it the three
survivors of the outbreak. The Ghazis had kept faith with them, and had
retired, leaving them without further molestation. But the whole night
had to be got through, and a very trying one it was, for they were not
without fear lest some of the people in the neighbourhood, becoming
affected with the contagion of bloodshedding, should come and complete
what the Ghazis had left undone. Fortunately there was the _dak_
bungalow for them to retire to--and they were thus enabled to escape
from the immediate proximity of the ghastly slaughter-house scenes which
the platform, and indeed the railway station generally, presented. No
further alarm however had come their way, and they had been picked up by
the morning train, as detailed in the telegram.
They had come away, of course, with scarcely any luggage, but Upward's
bungalow was elastic, and therein they were promptly installed. Vivien,
now that the tension was relaxed, succumbed to a nervous reaction that
prostrated her for days--and which, indeed, was not entirely due to the
horrors she had gone through. The Colonel was loud on Campian's
praises. But for him they would never have got out of the mess, by
Jove, he declared. The fellow's coolness in venturing among those
cut-throats was splendid--and so on. When he got back again in a week
or two he would have some experiences, and he seemed the sort of fellow
who was partial to experiences. Thus the Colonel. But Upward,
listening, was not so easy in his mind. He hoped Campian would be back
among them in a week or two, but--Heavens! what if he were not? The
Marris were a savage lot, and these particular ones were a combination
of Ghazi and brigand. He felt uneasy--most infernally uneasy--in which
predicament he did two things--he sent for Bhallu Khan, and consulted
long and oft with the authorities.
The latter were not so eager to fall in with his views as he considered
they ought to be. It might be true, as he said, that aggressive action
against Umar Khan would imperil the life of the hostage, but on the
other hand, were they to sit supine for eight days, while that notorious
ruffian raided and plundered and murdered at will all over the country.
The knot of the difficulty however was cut, as is frequently the case,
by circumstances. Each movement against him, undertaken with great
promptitude and spirit, resulted in failure, whereat Upward, and others
interested in the fate of the hostage rejoiced. It was not likely that
such a ruthless barbarian as Umar Khan was known to be, would allow his
prisoner to be taken out of his hands alive--no, not for a moment--
whereas having kept faith so far he might do so until the end,
especially if a handsome _baksheesh_ was added to the stipulated sum.
After that, the sooner he was caught and hanged the better.
Meanwhile the affair caused great excitement in the outlying parts, and
not a little scare. Outlying shooting parties deemed it advisable to
return and some of the railway employes on the lonely stations along the
line--natives or Eurasians mostly--resigned their posts in panic,
fearing lest a similar fate should overtake themselves. On the arrival
of Bhallu Khan some news was gleaned, but not much. The Ghazis had hung
about the Kachin valley for a day or two, and had looted the forest
bungalow--refraining, however, from firing it. Then they seemed to have
disappeared entirely, and if he had any sort of inkling of their
probable destination, Bhallu Khan, a Baluchi himself, could not or would
not reveal it.