“THEY’RE coming back!” cried Lady Haigh. She and Penelope had taken up a position upon the western rampart, and were straining their eyes in the direction of Sheikhgarh. To their extreme disgust Mr Crayne had followed them, and wishing to make himself agreeable, sent for his secretary to deliver an impromptu lecture on the subject of eclipses, being apparently under the impression that they had come up to get a good view of the sun. It was this lecture that Lady Haigh interrupted by her sudden exclamation.
“You must have wonderful sight, ma’am,” said Mr Crayne politely; “but you are accustomed to this sandy atmosphere, ain’t you?” The Commissioner’s manner of speech was not vulgar, only old-fashioned. Forty years before, when he had sailed for India, every one in polite society said “ain’t.”
“Oh dear, I wish it wasn’t so dark!” sighed Lady Haigh, disregarding the compliment. “I can only see that there are four riders in front, and some more behind. No, I caught a glimpse of Dugald that moment, and I saw the turbans of two troopers—no, three. Why, it is Major Keeling in native dress!”
“He throws up the sponge, then!” chuckled Mr Crayne grimly.
“Elma, what can you mean?” cried Penelope. “Major Keeling is not there at all.”
“My dear young lady”—Mr Crayne was decidedly shocked—“the warmth of your partisanship does you credit, but allow me to say that you are carrying it to extremes. Perhaps you observe that the guard is turning out and presenting arms?”
“Oh, but that shows it must be a distinguished stranger—doesn’t it?” said Lady Haigh, in rather a shaky voice. “Major Keeling does not go about turning out guards all day long.”
“Lend me your field-glass, please,” said Penelope sharply to the secretary, and when he complied she looked through it steadily at the approaching party. Then she thrust the glass into Lady Haigh’s hand with a gasp that was almost a sob. “There, Elma, look! I knew it wasn’t. It’s not in the least like him.”
“My dear Pen, I’m quite ready to agree that it isn’t Major Keeling if you say so, but it’s the image of him.”
“Oh, there may be a slight surface likeness, but there isn’t the least look of him really. The expression is absolutely different,” said Penelope calmly. “Let Mr Crayne look.”
“I can’t pretend to judge of expressions at this distance,” said Mr Crayne drily; “but it strikes me you are fighting in a lost cause, Miss Ross. Here is one of the troopers riding on first with a message, which will no doubt show you your mistake.”
But when the message was delivered, Mr Crayne’s face hardened. It was from Sir Dugald, to the effect that the Sheikh-ul-Jabal desired an audience of the Commissioner, and it would be well to receive him in the durbar-hall with the formalities due to his rank.
“So he means to brazen it out!” said Mr Crayne. “Well, see to it, Hazeldean. I don’t know what good it can do, though.”
The secretary descended the steps in a great hurry to beat up the Commissioner’s escort, and Mr Crayne followed more slowly. Lady Haigh and Penelope moved to the inside of the rampart, and awaited feverishly the appearance of Sir Dugald and his companion. At last they came, and riding up to the steps of the durbar-room, dismounted.
“You see, Elma?” whispered Penelope triumphantly.
“Look at the dogs!” was Lady Haigh’s only answer. Two terriers had rushed tumultuously from the Haighs’ verandah opposite, and were barking and jumping round Sir Dugald. One of them was his own dog, the other belonged to Major Keeling, who had left it at the fort lest the Sheikh-ul-Jabal should be offended if it approached the sacred precincts of Sheikhgarh. Even now the Sheikh withdrew himself ostentatiously from the demonstrations of the unclean animals, and as Sir Dugald ordered them to be quiet they sniffed suspiciously round the stranger at a respectful distance.
“Pen, an idea! I’ll send a chit down to the Major’s quarters to have Miani brought up here,” cried Lady Haigh. “He will never let a native ride him. It’ll be another proof,” and she called a servant to take the note.
Meanwhile Mr Crayne and his little court had received the Sheikh-ul-Jabal with due ceremony, and were now plunged in the most hopeless perplexity. The face before them was Major Keeling’s, but the voice differed very decidedly from his, and the visitor’s gestures and turns of speech served alternately to settle and to disturb their minds. The conversation, which was conducted in proper form through an interpreter, dealt first with the flowery compliments suitable to the occasion, and then with the momentous question of the health of Mr Crayne, the Governor-General, and Sir Henry Lennox on one side, and of the Sheikh and his household on the other. In all this there was nothing to decide the matter at issue. Then the Sheikh remarked that he had long desired to express his gratitude to the Company, which had provided him with an asylum and maintenance, and Mr Crayne seized the opportunity.
“And how long have you been the Company’s pensioner?” he asked.
“I have eaten the Honourable Company’s salt for ten years, more or less.”
“And in all that time you have never presented yourself before the Company’s representatives to express your gratitude?”
“It is true. Nevertheless I have served the Company in many ways.”
“But why have you never appeared at any of Major Keeling’s durbars?”
“By reason of the vow which I swore. If the sun were shining on the earth I should not be here now.”
“And yet you take long rides at night?”
“True. But is the sun shining then? Are durbars held at night?”
“What object have you in these rides of yours?”
“I am a murshid [religious leader], as the Commissioner Sahib knows. I gather my disciples together and exhort them to good deeds.”
“Are all the tribes of the desert your disciples?”
“Nay, they follow but at a distance, in hope of the rewards of discipleship.”
“And you have promised them the plunder of Nalapur? Complaints reach me continually of your intrigues.”
“Why should I intrigue against Wilayat Ali and his accomplice? They will receive from Allah the reward of their evil deeds in due time. What good would Nalapur be to me? I would not sit on the gadi were it offered me. My disciples are many and faithful, I have a shelter for my head and bread to eat, I can sometimes help my friends. What more do I need?”
“You must understand that in no case will you be permitted to invade Nalapur from British territory.”
“Why should I invade Nalapur? The Commissioner Sahib may be assured that I will make no war without the consent of Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib.”
Mr Crayne was baffled. “If you wish to please the Company,” he said, “you will leave your fort in the hills and settle down to cultivate a piece of irrigated land. You shall be allotted sufficient for your servants, according to their number, and rank as one of the nobles of the province shall be granted you.”
“And I and my servants shall become subject to the ordinance that forbids the carrying of arms? Nay, if that were so, the Company would soon be seeking a new tenant for the land. When one of the Commissioner Sahib’s own house helps a Nalapuri spy to plot against me, am I a lamb or a dove that I should refuse to defend myself?” He pointed fiercely at Ferrers, who was dumb with astonishment.
“What does this mean, sir?” sputtered Mr Crayne, turning on his nephew. “How dare you accuse a British officer of plotting against you?” he demanded of the Sheikh.
“Because it is true,” was the calm answer. “Last night, as I returned from one of my journeys, I was attacked among the hills, not far from my fortress, by three men. The two in front I cut down with my sword; but the third, watching his opportunity while I was engaged with them, leaped upon me from behind, thinking to stab me in the back. But he knew not that I wear always under my garments a shirt of iron links, which has descended from one Sheikh-ul-Jabal to another since the founding of the brotherhood, and though the blow left a mark upon the mail, yet the dagger broke, and I took no hurt. I saw the man’s face in the moonlight as I turned round, and knew him to be one who had once been of the number of my disciples, but had broken his vows and stolen away. I would have slain him, but he was swift of foot, and my horse had been wounded by one of those who attacked in front, so that he escaped me, though I set the servants who came to my help to scour the neighbourhood for him. But one of the other men yet lived, and confessed to me before he died that he had been hired in the Alibad bazar by the Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, who was in the employ of Firoz Sahib at Shah Nawaz, to assassinate me, and upon him and his fellow both we found five gold mohurs of the Company’s money. Have I not need of protection, then?”
“What d’ye make of this, sir?” demanded Mr Crayne furiously of his nephew, and Ferrers pulled himself together.
“All I can say is, sir, that the Mirza came to me last night, and asked me to let him have two troopers. I understood he wanted to put some one out of the way, though I couldn’t make out who it was, and I threatened him with punishment, and told him to go to Jericho.”
“You let him go?” Mr Crayne’s voice was terrific. “And why, sir—why?”
Alas! Ferrers knew only too well why it was, but he could not disclose the reason. “Well, sir, he had not done anything, and I never thought of his going to work on his own account.”
“Yet you knew he was the kind of man who would commit a treacherous murder of the sort? You will do well to send to Shah Nawaz and have him arrested immediately, for your own sake.”
“I will go myself at once, if you will allow me, sir.” Ferrers spoke calmly; but as he left the durbar-room he saw ruin before him. He could only hope that the Mirza would not allow his desire for revenge to weigh against his personal safety, and would have made his escape before he arrived. If he had not, what was to be done? To connive at his getting away would be to confess himself an accomplice, to bring him to justice meant a full disclosure. If only the Mirza would have the sense to escape when he might!
Having disposed of this side-issue, Mr Crayne returned to the charge. He was not yet fully satisfied, although he was fairly convinced by this time that it was not Major Keeling who sat in front of him, baffling his inquiries so calmly.
“You appear to have a great regard for Major Keeling?” he said brusquely. “Why?”
The Sheikh permitted a look of surprise to become evident. “Why not? Does not the Commissioner Sahib know that Kīlin Sahib has changed the face of the border, making peace where once was war, and plenty where there was perpetual famine? The name of Kīlin Sahib and his regiment is known wherever the Khemistan Horse can go—and where is it that they cannot go?”
“And do I understand that you have been of assistance to Major Keeling in this work of his?”
“Surely. Is not Kīlin Sahib the channel through which the Company’s bounty flows to me? Has he not treated me as a friend, and shown himself a friend to me?”
“Then in what way have you helped him?”
The Sheikh stroked his beard, perhaps to conceal a smile. “I have bidden my disciples obey him in all things as though he were myself.”
“Oh—ah”—Mr Crayne was baffled again—“is it or is it not a fact that there is a great personal likeness between Major Keeling and yourself?”
“It may be. I have heard as much,” was the indifferent answer.
“Is there—are you aware of any relationship that would account for it?”
The Sheikh’s eyes blazed. “My house is of the pure blood of the sons of Salih, from the mountains above Es Shams [Damascus], and of Ali the Lion of God; and all men know the descent of Kīlin Sahib. Was not his father the great Jān Kīlin Bahadar of the regiment called Kīlin Zarss [Keeling’s Horse], who, after the death of his Mem vowed never to speak a word to a woman again, and kept his vow, as all men bear witness? It has pleased Allah to make two men—one from the East and one from the West—as like one another as though they were brothers born at one time of the same mother, and who shall presume to account for His will?”
“Quite so, quite so,” agreed Mr Crayne. “No insult was intended. Then you imply that a considerable amount of Major Keeling’s success on this frontier is due to you?”
“No; the Commissioner Sahib wrests my words. Kīlin Sahib would have done his work without my help, though not so quickly. But when I saw the manner of man he was, and how he dealt with those that resisted him, could I see my followers—even those among them that were ignorant, and not true disciples—slaughtered, and their land remaining desert? So I spoke with Kīlin Sahib, and found him not like the rest of the English, for he said, ‘We were wrong when we stormed Nalapur and slew Nasr Ali, thy friend and brother; I myself was wrong also. What is past is past, and the future is not ours, but thou and thine shall dwell safely while I am on the border.’ Then I knew he was a true man, and what I could do to help him I have done.”
“It is well,” said Mr Crayne, and gave the signal for the conclusion of the audience. When the closing ceremonies were over, and the Sheikh was escorted out into the grey light of the reappearing sun in the courtyard, he uttered an exclamation of pleasure.
“Surely that is Kīlin Sahib’s horse? He is heavier than mine, but save for that, they might be brothers.”
“Would you like to try him?” suggested Sir Dugald, to whom a note had been handed from his wife. He spoke in obedience to her imperious suggestion, but with misgivings. “I don’t know what the Major will think of my inviting a native to mount his beloved Miani,” he said to himself. “And I shall have the fellow’s blood upon my head in another minute!” springing forward to assist the Sheikh as Miani backed and plunged, resisting all attempts to calm him. “Let him alone, Sheikh,” he advised. “He is never ridden by any one but his master.”
“Nay,” was the indignant answer, “shall the Sheikh-ul-Jabal be beaten by a horse?” and forcing Miani into a corner, the Sheikh whispered into his ear. The horse stood stock-still at once, eyeing the stranger uneasily, and the Sheikh followed up his victory by stooping down and breathing into his nostrils. There was a sensation among the natives round. “Kīlin Sahib’s horse has received the blessing of the holy breath!” went from one to the other. “Now he will be doubly the devil he was before!” lamented the groom who had brought him to the fort. But at present Miani seemed completely subdued. There was a look of terror in his eye and his ears were laid back; but though he swerved away, as if with invincible repugnance, when the Sheikh led him out of the corner, he allowed himself to be mounted, and cantered obediently round the courtyard. The Sheikh laughed as he dismounted.
“He would come home with me if I bade him, and Kīlin Sahib would bear a grudge against me,” he said. “I will reverse the spell,” and he slapped the horse smartly on the muzzle, then whispered into his ear again, and retreated precipitately from the storm of kicks with which Miani sought to avenge his temporary subjugation. Sir Dugald and the groom caught the bridle in time to prevent a catastrophe, and Miani was led away in custody, his behaviour fully justifying the groom’s unfavourable prediction.
* * * * * * *
In the meantime Major Keeling, seated on an uncomfortably low divan in the Sheikh’s hall of reception at Sheikhgarh, was enduring the unwinking stare of the boy who had been left in charge of him, and who had curled himself up happily among the cushions. He seemed to find the stranger full of interest, and Major Keeling felt that he was anxious to pour forth a flood of questions, but conversation languished, for whenever the hostage made a remark the boy entreated silence, with an alarmed glance in the direction of the curtain. At last, under cover of a loud rasping metallic noise, which seemed to come from behind the curtain, he edged nearer to Major Keeling, and said in a low voice—
“The women are sharpening knives.”
“So I hear,” replied the visitor.
“It is to kill you,” the boy went on.
“Very kind of them to make sure the knives are sharp,” replied Major Keeling, smiling, and wondering whether the ladies thought so highly of his chivalry as to imagine he would sit still to be murdered.
“Then you are not afraid?” pursued the boy. “I thought Englishmen were all cowards. Wazira Begum says so.”
“I fear your sister is prejudiced. Where did she pick up her unfavourable idea of the English?”
“Oh, don’t you know? It is your fault that we have to live in the desert, and old Zulika says Wazira Begum ought to be married; but how can a proper marriage be made for her here, where no one ever comes?”
“If I were you, I think I should leave that to your parents,” said Major Keeling, much amused by this original reason for hatred. “Your father will make a suitable marriage for your sister when the right time arrives.”
“But it is my brother Ashraf Ali who would have to do it. The Sheikh-ul-Jabal is not——”
“O Maadat Ali! O my brother!” came from behind the curtain, and the boy realised that the knife-sharpening had ceased, and that his last remark had been audible. He tumbled off the divan, and evidently received urgent advice behind the curtain, to judge by the whispering that went on there, and returning, seated himself in an attitude of rigid sternness, with a frown on his youthful brow, and his eyes fixed threateningly upon the hostage. Major Keeling gave up the attempt to make him talk, and yielded himself to his own thoughts, which were coloured somewhat gloomily by the surroundings and by the absence of daylight. It seemed to him that many hours must have passed, although the shadow had not fully withdrawn from the sun, before the welcome sound of horses’ feet and of opening gates heralded the return of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. Sir Dugald, who was led in after him by the boy Ashraf Ali, was blindfolded as before; but as soon as he was inside the house, he tore off the handkerchief and sprang at the Commandant.
“Thank God you’re all right, Major! I’ve been perfectly tormented with fear lest that little vixen should have attempted some treachery. But the whole matter is cleared up, and the Sheikh will ride down with us to the spot where we were first challenged, that the Commissioner, who has ridden out, may see you and him together, and be able to feel quite certain. Do let us get out of this place!”
“Why, Haigh, I never heard you say so much in a breath before. I should like to recover my sword first, if you are not in too great a hurry.” He turned to the Sheikh and repeated the request.
“Let Wazira Begum bring the Sahib’s sword,” said the Sheikh, but there was no response. He called again, raising his voice, and this time the curtain was pulled slightly aside and the sword flung through the opening, so that it fell clanging on the floor at Major Keeling’s feet. The Sheikh turned pale with anger, and took a step towards the curtain, but changed his mind suddenly.
“Ashraf Ali, kneel and restore Kīlin Sahib his sword,” he said, in imperious tones. The boy looked at him incredulously, but durst not disobey, and picking up the sword, knelt to give it into Major Keeling’s hands. In an instant his sister had sprung from behind the curtain and snatched the sword from him.
“Get up, get up!” she cried fiercely. “I am the dust of the earth in the presence of Kīlin Sahib Bahadar, but not thou,” and to Major Keeling’s horror she fell down before him, and tried to lift his foot to set it upon her head.
“Stand up, Wazira Begum,” said the Sheikh, and she obeyed, and stood glaring defiantly at the Englishmen, her whole form shaking with passion. “Now give the Sahib his sword, and remember that if evil befalls me, it is to him I commend you all. He is your friend. Go!”
The girl vanished immediately, and the Sheikh led the way down the hall. At the door he stopped. “Swear to me,” he said, “that you will not betray the secrets of this place, nor that these children dwell here with me. I will not blindfold you again.”
“We promise, by all means,” said Major Keeling; “but it is only fair to tell you that Captain Ferrers and the spy who guided him here saw the children a week ago. Ferrers I can silence, but the other——”
“It is destiny,” said the Sheikh, mounting his horse. “The man has long sought my life, and I knew not that he dwelt almost at my doors. Long ago, having fallen into disgrace in Nalapur, he was promised his life by the other Mullahs if he could avenge them on me, and he became one of my disciples by means of false oaths. But when he should have been advanced to the next stage of discipleship, he was refused, for I suspected him and desired to prove him further, whereupon, thinking he was discovered, he made his escape. What did he tell Firoz Sahib concerning the children?”
“Nothing, so far as I know. But perhaps I ought to tell you that from something the younger boy let drop, I gathered that they were not yours.”
“It is true, but I will not tell you whose they are; and I beseech you not to inquire into the matter, that if you are asked you may not be able to answer. Their lives, as well as mine, will be in jeopardy if Fazl-ul-Hacq succeeds in discovering anything about them.”
“Bring them in to Alibad,” suggested Major Keeling.
“No, they are safer here, where no one is admitted without my orders. But if evil should befall me——”
“Then bring or send them in to Alibad, or send a message to me for help,” said Major Keeling. “I owe you a good turn for to-day.”