“WHAT can it be? Who is coming?” cried Lady Haigh, running out on the verandah, as a horse galloped into the courtyard of the fort.
“There’s only one man who would come to pay a call in that style,” said Sir Dugald, following her more slowly. Before he reached the verandah, Major Keeling had thrown himself from the saddle, flinging Miani’s bridle to a servant who ran up, and was at the top of the steps.
“I want your help, both of you,” cried the Commandant. “Was anything ever more unlucky? There’s Crayne taken it into his head to come on here from the river, and we’ve never exchanged a civil word in our lives. I can’t even put him up, either. The only room I have that’s big enough to hold his magnificence is full of saddlery—that new cavalry equipment, you know—and he’ll be here to-night, so there’s no time to cart it away. Can you take him in, Lady Haigh? There are those unoccupied rooms, if you don’t mind, and we could dine him in the durbar-hall. Of course I’ll send up every stick of furniture I have, for the Parsee’s stock is precious limited—I looked in as I came along. We must do our best for him, for the credit of the frontier, though he is such an unpromising brute.”
“Of course,” said Lady Haigh eagerly, “and we must try to put him into a good temper, for the sake of the frontier. We’ll do everything we can. You will send up what servants you can spare, won’t you? and I’ll set them to work. And you will act as host at the dinner?—oh, you must. Your position and his demands it. We can pretend that the durbar-hall is our recognised room for dinner-parties.”
“Very well, but this reminds me that I must build some sort of place to lodge strangers in when I have time. One never expects distinguished visitors up here now, somehow. A quiet dinner to-night, I suppose, as he’ll only just have ridden in, and a regular burra khana to-morrow? He’ll scarcely stay more than the two nights. Well, I’ll send up my servants and household goods. I’m really tremendously obliged to you, but I knew I could count on you and Haigh.”
He galloped away, and Lady Haigh proceeded to plunge her household into chaos, and thence into a whirl of reconstruction and rearrangement. She was in her element on occasions of this kind, and such servants as averred that their caste did not permit them to do anything they were told found it advisable to keep out of her way. Sir Dugald retired to the ramparts with the work he had in hand, thus escaping from the turmoil; but Penelope was kept as busy as her hostess, and, like her, had only time for a brief rest before it was necessary to welcome the distinguished visitor. Wonders had been done in the few hours at their disposal, if only Mr Crayne had had eyes to recognise the fact, and the sole contretemps that marred the evening was not Lady Haigh’s fault. Major Keeling was summoned away to inquire into a complicated case of dacoity and murder at a village some miles off, and it was impossible for him to return in time to join the party.
To those present it seemed, however, as if this was not altogether a misfortune. Mr Crayne had a playful habit of jerking out unpleasant remarks in the interval between two mouthfuls of food, without even lifting his eyes, and continuing his meal without regarding any protest or disclaimer. Before dinner was half over he had told Lady Haigh that her cook did not know how to make curry, criticised adversely the gun-horses, which were the pride of Sir Dugald’s life, and dear to him as children, and sent Ferrers’ heart into his mouth by the announcement that things seemed to have got precious slack at Alibad, but that he was come to pull the reins tighter, thanks to a warning from his nephew. Soon afterwards he told Colin that he ought to have been a parson instead of a soldier, and Penelope that if she came down to Bab-us-Sahel she would see how far behind the fashion her clothes were—which is a thing no self-respecting girl cares to hear said of her, however hopelessly crossed in love she may be. But the climax was reached when he frowned malevolently at his plate, and observed—
“Fine state of things up here. For years Keeling has blazoned himself throughout India as the only man who could get this frontier quiet and keep it so, and yet he can’t make time to eat his dinner or show proper respect, but has to go and hunt murderers.”
Every one was thunderstruck by this outburst, but to the general astonishment it was Penelope who responded to the challenge.
“That is not fair, Mr Crayne,” she cried indignantly. “If you knew the frontier as we know it, you would wonder that it’s as quiet as it is. The settled inhabitants are perfectly good, and so are the tribes close at hand that know Major Keeling. But fresh tribes are always wandering down here, who haven’t heard of the new state of things. They were always accustomed to raid the villages, and rob and murder as they liked, and they don’t know that they can’t do it now. In time they will all have learnt their lesson, but it may not be for a long while yet.”
“Upon my word, young lady!” said Mr Crayne, actually pausing to look at her. “Has Major Keeling engaged you as his official advocate? He ought to be thankful to have found such a champion.”
“Miss Ross has only said what we all know and feel,” said Lady Haigh, coming to Penelope’s rescue as she sat silent, flushed but undaunted. “We are all Keelingolaters here, Mr Crayne; and don’t you know it’s very rude to say things against your hostess’s friends at her own table?”
Mr Crayne accepted the rebuke with remarkable meekness. “I bow to your ruling, ma’am,” he said, with something like a twinkle in his eye. “At your table, and in your hearing, I am a Keelingolater too. Sir Dugald, a glass of wine with you, if you please.”
“You have conquered that old bear, Elma!” said Penelope afterwards to her friend. “I could never have made a joke of what he said.”
“My dear, it was what you said that gave me courage to do it. I wanted to throw the plates at him, or box his ears, or something of that kind; and while I was trying to repress the impulse you answered him, and I was in such abject terror as to what he might go on to say that I spoke in desperation.”
“Nice little girl that—fine eyes,” said Mr Crayne to his nephew later. “The one who stood up for Keeling, I mean. Anything between them?”
“Certainly not, sir,” replied Ferrers with decision. “Quite the contrary.”
“Oho, that’s the way the wind blows, eh? Well, sir, understand me. There’s to be no talk of anything of the sort until you’re back from Gamara, d’ye hear? The Government won’t send a married man, and for once they’re right. If you do anything foolish, I’ll ruin you. No, it won’t be necessary—you’ll ruin yourself. Be off.”
Ferrers returned to his room at Colin’s quarters in a somewhat subdued frame of mind. He had fully intended to get Penelope to marry him before he started for Gamara, not so much, it must be confessed, with the idea of providing for her as of precluding any possibility of a change of feeling on her part. This was now out of the question; but it occurred to him as a consolation that the nature of his errand would appeal to her so strongly that he might feel quite secure. The future looked very promising as he mounted Colin’s steps; but even as he did so, his past rose up to greet him. A beggar was crouching in the shadow of one of the pillars of the verandah, and held up his hand in warning as Ferrers was about to shout angrily for the watchman to come and turn him off.
“It is I, sahib. The business is urgent. To-morrow you will see your desires fulfilled, but there is still one thing to be done. Give me an order to Jones Sahib at Shah Nawaz for two sowars, whom I shall choose, to accompany me on the track of a notorious marauder.”
“But what has this to do with our affair? Who’s the fellow?”
“Nay, sahib; have you not yet learnt that there are questions it were better not to ask? Fear not; the man shall be duly tracked and followed, but he shall not be brought in alive, nor shall his body be found. On this all depends.”
“Look here,” said Ferrers; “do you mean to tell me you are proposing to murder Major Keeling in cold blood, and hide his body in the sand? Give me a straight answer.”
“Nay, sahib,” said the Mirza unwillingly, “not Kīlin Sahib—it is the other. He must not be found to-morrow.”
“The other? What other?”
“Him that you know of. Why make this pretence? The man must die, or all our work goes for naught.”
“I don’t know of any one of the kind, and I’m hanged if I know what you’re driving at. But it seems you’re trying to get me to countenance a murder, and I’m going to have you put in prison.”
“Nay, sahib, not so,” said the Mirza softly. “There are many things I could tell Kīlin Sahib and Haigh Sahib’s Mem which they would like to know. And they would tell the Miss Sahib, and what then?”
Ferrers hesitated for a moment. Could he allow the facts to which the Mirza alluded to become public? His uncle might laugh at them, though there were details by which even he would be disgusted, but Colin and Penelope would never speak to him again—of that he was certain. He moved away from the steps.
“Go,” he said. “I will not give you the order you ask for, but if you keep secret what you know, I will allow you to escape.”
“Then you will let Kīlin Sahib go free?”
“Most certainly, if I can only convict him with the help of murder.”
“And all that I have done—my services, my duty to those who sent me forth—am I to have no satisfaction?”
“You shall have a halter if you don’t take yourself off. Never let me see your face again.”
“Nay, sahib, think not you can cast me off; our fates are joined together. Rāss Sahib and his sister may seem to have gained possession of you for a time, but it is not so. The contest is yet to come, and the victory will be mine. We shall meet, and before very long, and you will know the full extent of the power I have over you.” The confidence of the man’s tone made Ferrers’ blood run cold. He took a step towards him, but the Mirza seemed to vanish into the darkness, and, search as he would, he could find no trace of him.
Ferrers’ sleep was disturbed that night. He had often puzzled over the difficulty of breaking off his intercourse with the Mirza, but now that the Gordian knot had been cut for him he did not feel happy. It was clear that, for some reason or other, he could not imagine why, the evidence against Major Keeling was destined to break down, and this made it seem probable that he had been duped all along. And yet, as he had said to Penelope, how could he disbelieve the witness of his own eyes? He tossed and tumbled upon his bed, turning things over in his mind involuntarily and as if of necessity, as often happens in the wakeful hours of night. When at length he fell asleep, he woke again in horror, with a cold sweat breaking out all over him. What a detestable dream that had been! and yet it seemed to have no sense in it. There was a snake, and in some way or other the snake was also the Mirza, and Penelope was standing between him and it, trying to defend him. He himself seemed unable to move, and only wondered stupidly how it was that the snake did not attack Penelope. Then she stood aside for a moment, and he felt that the snake was beckoning to him—but how could it, when it was a snake?—and he slipped past Penelope, only to find that the snake was coiling itself round him. It was cold and clammy and stifling; its head was close to his face; it was just about to strike its murderous fangs into his temple, when not Penelope but Colin seized it by the neck and dragged it away, calling out, “George! George! get up!” With a vague idea that the snake had bitten Colin he sat up, to find that it was morning, and Colin was standing in the doorway of his room, and shouting to him to wake. For a moment he stared at him with eyes of horror, then looked round for the snake, and, realising that it was all a dream, smiled feebly.
“You must have been having frightful nightmare,” said Colin. “You were lying on your back and groaning shockingly, and the mosquito-net has fallen down, and you’ve got it all twisted round you. Your boy must have fastened it very carelessly.”
“Oh, I’ll blow him up about it. Enough to give one bad dreams, isn’t it? with this horrible row going on as well. Of course it’s the eclipse to-day.”
An eclipse had been predicted, to begin in the course of the morning, and all the Hindus in the town were doing their heroic best to rescue the sun from the clutches of the black monster which was intending to devour it. Tom-toms, gongs, and fireworks were among the remedies tried, apparently with the idea of frightening away the monster before he came near enough to do the sun any harm, and every native appeared also to think it his duty to howl, groan, or shriek with all his might. Ferrers and Colin took their choti haziri to the accompaniment of deafening uproar, and when one of the Haighs’ servants appeared to say that Mr Crayne desired his nephew’s presence at once at the fort, they could scarcely hear his message.
Ferrers was in no uncertainty as to the reason for this summons, for Colin had mentioned having seen Major Keeling riding by in the direction of the fort, doubtless to apologise to the Commissioner for his absence the evening before. The moment had come, and he mounted his horse and rode soberly through the town, feeling confident of the strength of his evidence, and yet nervous as to the result of the trial. On the verandah before the Haighs’ quarters Lady Haigh and Penelope were wandering restlessly with anxious faces, exchanging frightened whispers now and then, and starting whenever the sound of raised voices reached them from the drawing-room.
“What can it be?” asked Lady Haigh breathlessly, forgetting her dislike of Ferrers. “It must be something dreadful. They have been quarrelling frightfully.”
Ferrers made some excuse, he did not know what, and hurried indoors. In the drawing-room Mr Crayne was seated magisterially in the largest chair, Major Keeling was striding up and down with spurs and sword clanking, and Sir Dugald was leaning against the window-frame, looking unutterably worried and disgusted.
“So this,” said Major Keeling, pausing in his walk as Ferrers entered, and speaking in a voice hoarse with passion,—“this is the spy you employ to bring false accusations against me?”
“My nephew is no spy, sir, and it is for you to prove that the accusations are false,” said Mr Crayne, quailing a little under the fire of the other’s eyes.
“Oh, pardon me. When I find one of my own officers set to watch and report upon my movements—— Why, he doesn’t even do that. He invents movements for me, and founds lies upon them. Spy is not the word——”
“Keep cool, Major,” interjected Sir Dugald.
“You will not improve your cause by this violence, sir,” said Mr Crayne, relieved from his imminent fear of a personal assault. “I understand that Captain Ferrers’ attention was first drawn to your proceedings when he was following your advice and paying visits at night to different parts of his district to see that the patrols worked properly. It is for him to say what he has seen, and for you then to justify yourself. Captain Ferrers, you will be good enough to repeat what you told me some nights ago.”
Ferrers told his story, Major Keeling gathering up his sword and creeping to and fro with noiseless steps and set face, in a way which reminded the Commissioner unpleasantly of a tiger stalking its prey. When Ferrers ceased speaking, he turned upon Mr Crayne.
“I fancy I could shed a little light on the beginning of that story,” he said, with restrained fury, “but I won’t ask any questions now. You accuse me of personating the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and applying his allowance from the Company to my own use. Perhaps you accuse me of murdering him as well?”
“No,” murmured Sir Dugald, as no one answered, “they ‘don’t believe there’s no sich a person.’”
“Well, there is only one way of clearing myself, and that is to produce the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. I’ll have him here, dead or alive, before sunset, if I have to pull Sheikhgarh stone from stone to get him.”
“By all means,” said Mr Crayne. “The course you suggest would be far more effective than any amount of shouting.”
“Wait until you are accused as I am before you talk of shouting,” was the explosive answer. “Haigh, come with me.”
“Oh, what is it? what is it?” cried Lady Haigh and Penelope together as the two men emerged from the room.
“It’s a fiendish plot,” said Major Keeling. “Don’t come near me, Lady Haigh. If I have done what they say, I have no business to breathe the same air with you and Miss Ross.”
“But you haven’t! We know you haven’t—don’t we, Pen? Whatever it is, we know you didn’t do it. And you’re going to prove it, and make them ashamed of themselves! Don’t say you mayn’t be able to. You must.”
“Thanks, thanks!” He held out one hand to her and the other to Penelope. “While you two ladies and Haigh believe in me, there’s something to live for still. Haigh, you and I are going to make straight for Sheikhgarh, and try fair means first. I am glad I didn’t ride Miani this morning, in case I don’t come back. We will leave orders with Porter to march to our support if he gets a message.”
They rode out of the gateway, followed by Major Keeling’s two orderlies, gave Captain Porter his orders, and struck off across the desert to the south-west, in the direction taken by Ferrers and the Mirza a week before. By the time they reached the hills the eclipse was just beginning, and in the ghastly half-light, which seemed to be destitute of all warmth and to suck the colour from the rocks and sand, they pushed on towards the fortress. It was not long before they were challenged and their path barred by a patrol wearing the white and scarlet dress of the brotherhood. Major Keeling bade the orderlies remain where they were, taking precautions against surprise, and if neither Sir Dugald nor himself had returned in an hour, to ride for their lives to Alibad and Captain Porter.
“Tell the Sheikh-ul-Jabal,” he said to the men who had stopped him, “that his friend Keeling Sahib is here, and desires to see him on a matter of great importance to them both.”
One of the men was sent with the message, and presently returned to say that the Sheikh was willing to give audience to the visitors if they would consent to be blindfolded until they reached his presence. Sir Dugald demurred, whereupon his leader told him to stay with the orderlies if he liked, but not to cavil about trifles, and he submitted. Their horses led by a man on either side, they rode on, able only to distinguish that the path wound uphill and downhill a good deal, and was sometimes pebbly and sometimes rocky. Then they passed under an echoing gateway, where their guides warned Major Keeling to stoop, and across a paved courtyard, and were told they must dismount. Sir Dugald felt to make sure that his sword was loose in the scabbard and his pistols untouched, and allowed himself to be guided up a flight of steps. They entered some building, and the bandages were removed from the eyes of the two Englishmen. The light was very imperfect, for the eclipse was approaching totality, but they were able to distinguish a majestic bearded figure in white and scarlet facing them.
“Sheikh Sahib,” began Major Keeling impulsively; but he was interrupted by an involuntary exclamation from Sir Dugald—
“Why, the beggar’s the living image of you, Major!”
A smile passed over the features of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and he ordered the attendants to bring lights. Torches arrived, and Major Keeling gazed in astonishment into a face which was bewilderingly reminiscent of his own, while Sir Dugald compared the two feature by feature, and could find no difference.
“This explains the mystery, then!” he said.
“Why, so it does!” said Major Keeling, “and Ferrers is not quite the hound we thought him. Did you know of this likeness?” he asked of the Sheikh.
“I discovered it the night we met in the desert,” was the answer, “and the reports of my disciples would have informed me of it if I had not. It has had advantages for both of us,” and he smiled again.
“It will have very grievous disadvantages for both of us,” cried Major Keeling, “unless you will go to Alibad at once and see the Commissioner. He thinks I have personated you to get your allowance, and he is determined to thresh the matter out.”
The Sheikh considered the request gravely. “Will the Commissioner Sahib come here if I do not go to him?” he asked.
“If he doesn’t, Captain Porter will come, and the Khemistan Horse with him. The Commissioner means to satisfy himself about this, and he is not one to be turned aside.”
“I have heard of him. But what if he should keep me a prisoner?”
“I have thought of that. I will remain here as a hostage, while you go to Alibad with Lieutenant Haigh here. Never mind about your vow. It’s the best day you could have in the year, for the sun isn’t shining, and if it was, it would be better to dispense yourself from your vow than have your fort destroyed.”
“Kīlin Sahib speaks wisely,” said the Sheikh, stroking his beard. “Let the children be called,” he said to a servant. The two Englishmen waited in some perplexity while the three children whom Ferrers had seen were summoned from behind a curtain. The boys came forward with eager interest; but the girl, who drew her head-shawl across her mouth, eyed the visitors with unconcealed hostility.
“Ashraf Ali,” said the Sheikh to the eldest boy, “this Sahib will remain here as a hostage while I ride to Alibad with his friend. You will deal with him as the Sahibs there deal with me. If they kill me, you will kill him, and defend the fort to the last. Take your post in the gate-tower, and keep good watch, while your brother remains to watch the Sahib.”
The boy seemed perturbed, and drew the Sheikh aside. “He is armed,” they heard him say, looking askance at Major Keeling’s sword, “and while I am keeping watch he may frighten the women, and make them help him to escape.”
“I won’t give up my sword to any man on earth!” cried Major Keeling hotly, anticipating the demand which would follow; but after a pause, as the Sheikh looked round at him doubtfully, he added, regardless of Sir Dugald’s muttered expostulations, “I see your difficulty, and I’ll take a leaf out of your book, and dispense myself from part of my vow. I will intrust my sword to your daughter, if she will honour me by taking charge of it.”
“Wazira Begum,” said the Sheikh, “take the Sahib’s sword, and keep it safely until I ask for it again.”
The girl came forward reluctantly, and, darting a look of hatred at the Englishmen, took the sword as if it defiled her fingers, and retreated with it behind the curtain. Sir Dugald’s protests against Major Keeling’s remaining were met by a peremptory order to be off at once, and he unwillingly allowed himself to be blindfolded again. The Sheikh’s horse was brought round, and he rode away with Sir Dugald and a dozen followers. Major Keeling sat down on the divan, and prepared to wait with what patience he might. Suddenly a thought struck him.
“What a fool I am!” he cried. “It proves nothing to produce the Sheikh alone. If they don’t see us together, they may still make out that I am personating him. Haigh would be considered a biassed witness, I suppose. But it’s too late to change now, and I could never have left him here as the hostage.”