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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0472f00 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65895 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65895) diff --git a/old/65895-0.txt b/old/65895-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1a2a8c7..0000000 --- a/old/65895-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11896 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Advanced-Guard, by Sydney C. Grier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Advanced-Guard - -Author: Sydney C. Grier - -Release Date: July 22, 2021 [eBook #65895] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVANCED-GUARD *** - - - - - - The - Advanced-Guard - - BY - SYDNEY C. GRIER - - AUTHOR OF ‘HIS EXCELLENCY’S ENGLISH GOVERNESS,’ - ‘THE WARDEN OF THE MARCHES,’ - ETC., ETC. - - - (_Third in the Modern East series_) - - - _SHILLING EDITION_ - - - WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS - EDINBURGH AND LONDON - MCMXII - _All Rights reserved_ - - - - - CONTENTS. - - I. LADY HAIGH’S KIND INTENTIONS - II. THE AUTOCRAT - III. A BLANK SHEET - IV. UNSTABLE - V. COLIN AS AMBASSADOR - VI. MOUNTING IN HOT HASTE - VII. EYE-WITNESS - VIII. SEEING AND BELIEVING - IX. COUNSEL FOR THE PROSECUTION - X. ARRAIGNED - XI. JUSTIFIED - XII. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN - XIII. THE DIE IS CAST - XIV. INTO THE TERRIBLE LAND - XV. A LAND OF DARKNESS AND THE SHADOW OF DEATH - XVI. “ENGLAND’S FAR, AND HONOUR A NAME” - XVII. THE STRENGTH OF TEN - XVIII. THE ALLOTTED FIELD - XIX. A WOUNDED SPIRIT - XX. THE ISLE OF AVILION - XXI. FIRE AND SWORD - XXII. TAKEN BY SURPRISE - XXIII. PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES - XXIV. RAHMAT-ULLAH - XXV. THE RIGHT PREVAILS - XXVI. “FOR THINE AND THEE” - XXVII. AFTER TOIL--TOIL STILL - FOOTNOTES - - - - - THE ADVANCED-GUARD. - - CHAPTER I. - LADY HAIGH’S KIND INTENTIONS. - -Fifty years ago the great port of Bab-us-Sahel was in its infancy. -The modern ranges of wharfs and breakwaters were represented by a -single half-finished pier, and vessels still discharged their -passengers and cargo a mile from shore, to the imminent peril of life -and property. The province of Khemistan had only recently come under -British rule, by an operation which was variously described as “the -most shameless piece of iniquity ever perpetrated,” and “the -inevitable working of the laws of right and justice”; and the -iron-willed, iron-handed old soldier who had perpetrated the iniquity -and superintended the working of the laws was determined to open up -the country from the river to the desert and beyond. His enemies were -numerous and loud-voiced and near at hand; his friends, with the -exception of his own subordinates, few and far away; but he had one -advantage more common in those days than these, a practically free -hand. Under “the execrable tyranny of a military despotism,” the -labour of pacification and the construction of public works went on -simultaneously, and although the Bombay papers shrieked themselves -hoarse in denouncing Sir Henry Lennox, and danced war-dances over his -presumably prostrate form, no one in Khemistan was a penny the -worse--a fact which did not tend to mollify the angry passions -concerned. - -The wand of the Eastern enchanter was not in the possession of the -nineteenth-century empire-builder, even though he might be the great -little man whom the natives called the Padishah, and (under their -breath) the Brother of Satan; and despite the efforts of a small army -of engineers, the growth of the new seaport was but slow. Yet, though -the native town was still obnoxious to sight and smell, and the broad -roads of the symmetrically planned cantonments were ankle-deep in dust -and sometimes knee-deep in sand, there was one improvement to which -General Lennox had been obliged to postpone even his beloved -harbour-works, and this was the seaside drive, where his little colony -of exiles might meet and condole with one another in the cooler hours -of the day. Every one rode or drove there morning and evening, -exchanging the latest local gossip on ordinary occasions, and news -from home on the rare mail-days. It was most unusual to see a man not -in uniform in the drive, for mufti was a word which had no place in -the General’s vocabulary; and it was even whispered that his -well-known detestation of civilians sprang from the fact that he could -not arbitrarily clap them into scarlet tunics. As for the ladies, -their skirts were of a generous amplitude, although the crinoline -proper had not yet made its appearance; but instead of the close -bonnets universal in fashionable Europe, they wore lace and muslin -caps, as their ancestresses had done since the first Englishwoman -stepped ashore in India. The more thrifty-minded guarded their -complexions with native umbrellas of painted calico; but there were -few who did not exhibit one of the miniature parasols, very long in -the handle and very small in the circumference, which were usual at -home. - -The one interest which all the promenaders had in common was the daily -recurring uncertainty whether General Lennox would take his ride late -or early. He never failed to put in an appearance and bestow paternal -greetings on his flock, who all knew him and each other, keeping a -vigilant eye open the while for any newly arrived subaltern who might -have broken his unwritten law; but when he was in good time he made a -kind of royal progress, saying a word or two to a man here and there, -and saluting each lady in turn with the noble courtesy which went out -with the last of the Peninsular heroes. He was specially early one -evening, able even to notice absentees, and he asked more than once -with some anxiety why Lady Haigh was not there--a question which -excited the wrathful contempt of ladies of higher official rank. Lady -Haigh was only a subaltern’s wife, in spite of her title; but she was -amusing, a quality which has its attractions for a grizzled warrior -burdened with many responsibilities. However, one lady was able to -tell him that Sir Dugald Haigh had only just come in with Major -Keeling from their trip up-country, and another added that she -believed a friend of Lady Haigh’s had arrived that morning by the -steamer,--there was only one steamer that plied between Bombay and -Bab-us-Sahel,--and the General was satisfied. Life and death were not -so widely separated in Bab-us-Sahel as in more favoured places; and it -happened not unfrequently that a man might be riding in the drive one -evening, and be carried to his grave the next. - -The Haighs’ house stood on the outskirts of the cantonments. It was a -small white-washed bungalow, remarkable for the extreme neatness of -its compound, and the pathetic attempts at gardening which were -evident wherever any shade might be hoped for. Very widely did it -differ from its nearest neighbour, a rambling, tumble-down cluster of -buildings inhabited by a riotous colony of bachelors, who were -popularly alleged to ride all day and drink all night. In view of the -amount of work exacted by Sir Henry Lennox from all his subordinates, -this was obviously an exaggeration; but the patch of unreclaimed -desert which surrounded Bachelors’ Hall, its broken fences, and the -jagged heaps of empty bottles here and there, distinguished it -sufficiently from the little domain where Sir Dugald and Lady Haigh -were conducting what their friends considered a very risky matrimonial -experiment. The festive young gentlemen next door lavished a good deal -of wonder and pity (as upon a harmless lunatic) upon Sir Dugald. That -a man who was hampered by a title and an unproductive Scotch estate -should let the latter and carry the former into the Indian army, where -it would array all his superiors against him as one man, instead of -remaining at home and using title and estate as a bait for an heiress, -was strange enough. But that he should proceed further to defy the -opinion of those in authority by bringing out a wife--and a plain -wife, without money and with a tongue (the bachelors had learnt -through an indiscreet lady friend that the bride had dubbed their -cheerful establishment “Beer and Skittles”)--seemed to show that he -must be absolutely mad. Lady Haigh’s relations, on the other hand, -regarded her marriage with trembling joy. Girls with aspirations after -higher education were fewer in those days than these, and perplexed -families did not know how to deal with them. By sheer hard fighting -Elma Wargrave had won leave to study at the newly founded Queen’s -College, but her family breathed a sigh of relief when, after less -than a year’s work, she announced that she was going to marry Sir -Dugald Haigh, whom she had met on a vacation visit. Whatever Elma -might take it into her head to do in the future, her husband and not -her parents would be responsible, and it would happen at a distance of -some thousands of miles. The baronetcy was an undeniable fact, and -there was no need to obtrude on people’s attention the other fact that -the bridegroom was merely a subaltern in the Company’s artillery. -Hence, when the wedding had safely taken place, the parents allowed -themselves to rejoice more and tremble less, only hoping that poor Sir -Dugald would not find he had undertaken more than he could manage. It -would have surprised them a good deal to learn that never until this -particular evening had the Haighs known even the semblance of a -serious disagreement. Lady Haigh had taken her young husband’s -measure, and adapted herself to it with a cleverness which was really -heroic in the case of a high-spirited, quick-tempered girl; and since -her arrival in Khemistan had been wont to assure herself that “after -the voyage, one could be angelic anywhere.” - -Perhaps she saw reason to repent of this hasty assurance just now, as -she sat facing her husband across a table littered with letters and -papers which had formed part of the mail brought that morning by the -steamer. Sir Dugald, a small fair man, with the colourless skin which -becomes parchment-like instead of red under the influence of an -Eastern sun, was still buttoned up in his uniform,--a fact of itself -not calculated to improve his temper,--and punctuated his remarks by -swinging one spurred heel rhythmically to and fro as he leaned back in -his chair. His wife had rushed out to welcome him and pour her story -into his ear in the same breath the moment that he dismounted after a -long and dusty march; and he could not but be conscious that her -muslin gown was tumbled and not of the freshest, her neck-ribbon awry, -and her ringlets in disorder. Those ringlets were in themselves a -cause for irritation. Elma Wargrave had worn her hair in severe bands -of unassuming hideousness, but soon after her marriage Elma Haigh had -horrified her husband by adopting ringlets, which were singularly -unbecoming to her pleasant, homely face, under the delusion that he -liked them. It cost Sir Dugald a good deal to refrain from proclaiming -his abhorrence of the change which had been made for his sake; but he -was a just man, and even at this moment of tension did his best not to -allow his mind to be prejudiced by the obnoxious curls. - -“Surely you must see,” he was saying with studied moderation, “that -you have placed me in a most unpleasant position? What if Ferrers -should call me out?” - -“I should like to see him do it!” was the uncompromising reply. “I -should just go and tell the General, and get him arrested.” - -Sir Dugald sighed patiently. “But look at it for a moment from -Ferrers’ point of view, Elma. He is engaged to this friend of yours, -Miss Andromache--what’s her name? Penelope?--and waiting for her to -come out. She comes out quite ready to marry him,--trousseau and -wedding-cake and all,--and you meet her at the steamer and tell her -such things about him that she breaks off the whole thing on the spot, -without so much as giving him a chance to clear himself.” - -“He drinks, he gambles, he is in the hands of the money-lenders,” said -Lady Haigh tersely. “Was she to marry him in ignorance?” - -“I don’t for a moment say it isn’t true. But if a man had done such a -thing he would have been called a brute and a low cad. I suppose a -woman can go and dash all a poor girl’s hopes, and separate her from -her lover, and still be considered a friend to her?” - -“But he wasn’t her lover, and it was her fears, not her hopes, that I -put an end to.” - -“My dear Elma!” Sir Dugald’s eyebrows went up. - -“She didn’t love him,” persisted Lady Haigh. “Of course it sounds -horrid as you put it, but when you know the circumstances you will say -that I couldn’t possibly have let it go on. Penelope and Colin used to -know Captain Ferrers when they were children. He lived near them, and -their father was very kind to him, and used to get him out of scrapes -about once a-week. Ferrers was fond of the children, and they adored -him. When he went to India, Penelope can’t have been more than -fourteen, but he asked her if she would marry him when he came home. I -can’t imagine that he took it seriously, but she did; at any rate, she -felt bound by it. A romantic child of that age, with a brother as -romantic as herself to keep her up to it--of course she dreamed of him -continually. But he scarcely ever wrote to her father, and never to -her, and as she grew older she left off thinking about him. Then her -father died, and she went to live with her uncle in London while Colin -was at Addiscombe. That was when I used to meet her at the College. -Why, she never even told me she was engaged! Of course, I didn’t know -her very well, but well enough to have heard that. And since we came -out her uncle died, and her aunt and cousins didn’t want her. She’s -too handsome, you know. And Colin wanted her to come out with him--did -I tell you they were twins, and absolutely devoted?--but the aunt said -it wasn’t proper, until Colin remembered that old foolishness with -Ferrers, and at once--oh, it was the most delightful and suitable and -convenient plan that could possibly be devised! They had the grace not -to thrust her on Ferrers unprepared, but Colin wrote to him to say he -was bringing her out by the Overland, and poor Pen wrote to me--and -both letters were lost when the _Nuncomar_ went down! It was only with -dreadful misgivings that Penelope had consented to the plan, and she -got more and more miserable when they found no letters at Alexandria -or Aden or Bombay. When they arrived here this morning, and still -there were no letters and no Ferrers, she made Colin come to me, -though he wanted to go and hunt up Ferrers, and I brought her up here -at once, and settled matters.” - -“And may I ask how you managed that?” - -“I told her the sort of reputation Ferrers bears here, and how, after -the way they were keeping it up next door last night, he could not -have been down at the steamer even if he had got the letter, and then -I sent to ask him to come and see me.” - -“Slightly high-handed. But go on.” - -“You needn’t pity him. I am sure in his heart he regards me as his -dearest friend. I never saw a man so horrified in my life as when I -told him that Miss Ross was here. He was positively relieved when I -said that from what Miss Ross had learnt of his circumstances, she was -sure he had no intention of claiming the promise she gave him in her -childhood, and she hoped they would meet as friends, nothing more. He -was really thankful, Dugald.” - -Sir Dugald allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “Possibly. But -surely the right thing would have been to help the poor wretch to pull -himself together, and reform him generally, and let her marry him and -keep him straight? That would have been a triumph.” - -“Let him reform first, and then get her to marry him if he can,” -snapped Lady Haigh. “Would you have let a sister of yours marry him?” - -“Not if I could help it. But you will allow me to remark that a sister -of mine would have had a home open to her here, instead of being -thrown upon a brother as young as herself who knows nothing of the -place and its ways, and who is coming up-country with us next month.” - -“Oh, of course I offered her a home with us,” said Lady Haigh, with -outward calmness, but inward trepidation. - -Sir Dugald’s eyebrows were slowly raised again. “You offered her a -home with us? Then of course there is no more to be said.” - -He drew his chair nearer the table, and from the mass of papers -selected a book-packet from the ends of which a familiar green wrapper -protruded. Opening the parcel carefully with the paper-knife, he threw -away the cover, and settled down with an anticipatory smile to enjoy -his monthly instalment of Dickens. But he had gone too far. Anger Lady -Haigh had expected, to his deliberate movements she was slowly growing -accustomed, but that smile was intolerable. She leaned across the -table, and snatched the serial from his hand. - -“Dugald, I will not have you so rude! Of course I want to talk things -over with you.” - -“My dear Elma, what is there to talk over? In some miraculous way you -have overcome the Chief’s objections to ladies on the frontier, and -got leave to bring Miss Ross up with you. Anything that I could say -would only spoil your excellent arrangements.” - -“But I haven’t seen Major Keeling. How could I, when he only came back -with you? And I haven’t got his leave. I want you to do that.” - -“No,” said Sir Dugald resolutely. “I had enough to do with getting -leave for you to come to Alibad, and I am not going to presume upon -it. The Chief will think I want to cry off.” - -“Then I’ll ask him myself,” recklessly. “I’m not in abject terror of -your great Major Keeling. He’s only a good man spoilt for want of a -wife.” - -Lady Haigh meant to be irritating, and she succeeded, for her husband -had told her over and over again that such a view was purely and -hopelessly feminine. Sir Dugald threw down the paper-knife with a -clatter, and drew back his chair as if to leave the room. - -“If I can’t get him to do it,” she pursued meditatively, “I’ll--let me -see----” - -“Appeal to Cæsar--otherwise the General, I suppose? That seems to be -your favourite plan.” - -“Oh dear, no; certainly not. I shall make Penelope ask Major Keeling -herself.” - -“Now, Elma!” Sir Dugald detected something dangerous in the tone of -his wife’s remark. “That’s no good. Just let the Chief alone. He isn’t -the man to give in to anything of the kind.” - -Lady Haigh seemed impressed, though perhaps she was only thinking -deeply, and her husband, instead of resting on his prophetic laurels, -unwisely descended to argument. - -“He’s not a marrying man; and to go throwing your friend at his head -is merely lowering her in his eyes. He would see it in a moment.” - -“My dear Dugald!”--Lady Haigh awoke from a brown study--“what -extraordinary things you are saying! I haven’t the slightest intention -of throwing Penelope at any one’s head. It’s really vulgar to suspect -every woman that comes near him of designs on Major Keeling.” - -“Then why do you want to take Miss Ross up with us?” - -“Because I am her only friend in India, of course. I wish you wouldn’t -put such thoughts into my head, Dugald,” plaintively. “Now if anything -should come to pass, I shall always feel that I have helped in -bringing it on, and I do hate match-making.” - -“But you said she was handsome,” objected the discomfited husband. - -“Well, and is Major Keeling the only unmarried man in the world? Why, -Captain Ferrers is coming up to Alibad too.” - -“So he is. By the bye, didn’t you say he hadn’t seen her since she was -a child? My word, Elma, he will have a crow to pluck with you when he -finds what you have robbed him of.” - -“I haven’t robbed him,” said Lady Haigh serenely. “I have only kept -him from taking an unfair advantage of Penelope’s inexperience. He may -win her yet. He shall have a fair field and no favour. He is coming -here to-night.” - -“Oh, that’s your idea of a fair field, is it? No favour, certainly.” - -“Of course I want them to meet under my eye, until I see whether there -is any hope of his reforming.” - -“Well, we shall be a nice little family party on the frontier.” - -“Shan’t we? Let me see, Major Keeling is going because he is the -heaven-sent leader, and you because you fought your guns so well at -Umarganj, and I because you got leave for me. Colin Ross is going -because his father was an old friend of Major Keeling’s, Ferrers -because the General begged Major Keeling to take him as the only -chance of keeping him out of mischief, and Penelope is going because I -am going to ask leave for her.” - -“Don’t you hope you may get it? Well, if you have no more thunderbolts -to launch, I’ll go and get into some cooler things.” - - - - - CHAPTER II. - THE AUTOCRAT. - -There was a little informal gathering at the Haighs’ that evening. -People often dropped in after dinner for some music, for Lady Haigh -had actually brought her piano (without which no self-respecting bride -then left her native land) up to Bab-us-Sahel with her. True, it had -been necessary to float it ashore in its case; but it was unanimously -agreed that its tone had not suffered in the very least. To-night -there was the additional attraction that Lady Haigh had staying with -her a handsome girl just out from home, who was understood, from the -report of the other passengers on the steamer, to play the guitar and -sing like an angel. Lady Haigh herself had no love for music whatever, -and in these days public opinion would have forbidden her to touch an -instrument; but she did her duty as hostess by rattling off one of the -dashing, crashing compositions of the day, and then thankfully left -her guest to bear the burden of the entertainment. The ring of eager -listeners that surrounded Penelope Ross, demanding one song after -another, made her feel that she was justified in so doing; and after -she had seen the obnoxious Captain Ferrers enter, and satisfied -herself that he perceived too late what a treasure he had lightly -thrown away, she slipped out on the verandah to think over the task -she had rashly set herself in her contest with her husband. How was -Major Keeling, who hated women, and had merely been induced to condone -Lady Haigh’s own existence because he had asked for Sir Dugald’s -services without knowing he was married, to be persuaded to allow -Penelope to accompany her to Alibad? - -“I know he is dining at Government House to-night,” she reflected -forlornly, “or I might have asked him to come in for some music. But -then he would have been just as likely to send a _chit_ to say that he -disliked music. Men who hate women are such bears! And if I ask him to -dinner another night, he will see through it as soon as he finds -Penelope is here. And yet I must get things settled at once, or -Penelope will think she is unwelcome, and Colin will persuade her to -do something quixotic and detestable--marry Ferrers, or go out as a -governess, or---- Why, surely----” - -She ran to the edge of the verandah, and peered across the parched -compound to the road. Above the feeble hedge of milk-bush she could -see the head and shoulders of a horseman, of the very man with whom -her thoughts were busy. The shock of black hair and short full beard -made Major Keeling unmistakable at a time when beards were few, -although there was no “regulation” military cut or arrangement of the -hair. The fiercest-looking officer in Lady Haigh’s drawing-room at -this moment, whose heavy moustache and truculent whiskers gave him the -air of a swashbuckler, or at least of a member of Queen Cristina’s -Foreign Legion, was a blameless Engineer of strong Evangelical -principles. Lady Haigh saw at once the state of the case. The -gathering at Government House had broken up at the early hour exacted -by Lady Lennox, who was a vigilant guardian of her warrior’s health, -and Major Keeling was whiling away the time by a moonlight ride before -returning to his quarters. To summon one of the servants, and send him -flying to stop the Major Sahib and ask him to come and speak to Lady -Haigh, was the work of a moment; for though Major Keeling might be a -woman-hater, he had never yet rebelled against the sway which his -subordinate’s wife established as by right over all the men around -her, for their good. Lady Haigh disliked the idea of putting her -influence to the test in this way, for if Major Keeling refused to -yield there could be nothing but war between them in future; but the -matter was urgent. - -“You wanted to speak to me, Lady Haigh?” Major Keeling had dismounted, -and was coming up the steps, looking almost gigantic in the -picturesque full-dress uniform of the Khemistan Horse. - -“I want you to do a kindness,” she responded, rather breathlessly. - -“I know what that means. I am to break a rule, or relax an order, or -in some other way go against my better judgment.” - -“I--I want you to let me bring a friend of mine to Alibad with me.” - -Major Keeling’s brow darkened. “I knew this would come. You assured me -you could stand the isolation, but I knew better. Of course you want -female society; it is quite natural you should. But you professed to -understand that on the frontier you couldn’t have it.” - -“Not society--just this one girl,” pleaded Lady Haigh. - -“Who is she? a sister of yours or Haigh’s?” - -“No relation to either of us. She is Mr Ross’s sister--your old -friend’s daughter--an orphan, and all alone.” - -“Engaged to any one who is going with me?” - -“No--o.” The negative, doubtful at first, became definite. “I won’t -say a word about Ferrers, even to get him to let her come,” was Lady -Haigh’s resolute determination. - -“Then she can’t come.” - -“Oh, Major Keeling! And if I had said she was engaged, you would have -said that the man would be always wasting his time dangling round -her.” - -“But as she isn’t, the whole force would waste their time dangling -round her,” was the crushing reply. “No, Lady Haigh, we have no use -for young ladies on the frontier. It will be work, not play.” - -“Play! Do you think a girl with that face wants to spend her life in -playing?” demanded Lady Haigh, very much in the tone with which she -had once been wont to crush her family. “Look there!” - -She drew him to the open window of the drawing-room and made him look -through the reed curtain. The light fell full on Penelope’s face as -she sang, and Lady Haigh felt that the beholder was impressed. - -“What’s that she’s singing?” he growled. “‘County Guy’? Scott? There’s -some good in her, at any rate.” - -Lady Haigh forbore to resent the slighting imputation, and Major -Keeling remained watching the singer through the curtain. Penelope’s -contemporaries considered her tall and queenly, though she would now -be thought decidedly under middle height. Her dark hair was dressed in -a graceful old fashion which had almost gone out before the combined -assault of bands and ringlets,--raised high on the head, divided in -front, and slightly waved on the temples,--a style which by rights -demanded an oval face and classical features as its complement. Judged -by this standard, Penelope might have been found wanting, for her -features were at once stronger and less regular than the classical -ideal; but the grey eyes beneath the broad low brow disarmed -criticism, they were so large and deep and calm, save when they were -lighted, as now, by the fire of the ballad she was singing. Those were -days when a white dress and coloured ribbons were considered the only -evening wear for a young girl; and Penelope wore a vivid scarlet sash, -with knots of scarlet catching up her airy white draperies, and a -scarlet flower in her hair. As Major Keeling stood looking at her, -Lady Haigh caught a murmur which at once astonished and delighted her. - -“That is a woman who would help a man--not drag him back.” Then, -apparently realising that he had spoken aloud, he added hastily, “Yes, -yes, as you say. But who’s the man with the unlucky face?” - -His finger indicated a tall thin youth who stood behind the singer. -The face was a remarkable one, thin and hawklike, with a high forehead -and closely compressed lips. The hair and small moustache were fair -and reddish in tint, the eyes grey, with a curious look of aloofness -instead of the keenness that would have seemed to accord with the rest -of the features. - -“That? Why, that’s Colin Ross, Penelope’s brother. What is there -unlucky about him?” - -“Oh, nothing--merely a look. Her brother, do you say?” - -“Yes, her twin brother. But what look do you mean? Oh, you must tell -me, Major Keeling, or I shall tell Penelope that you say her brother -has an unlucky face.” - -“You will do nothing of the kind. Hush! don’t attract their attention. -I can’t explain it: I have seen it in several men--not many, -fortunately--and it has always meant an early and violent death.” - -“But this is pure superstition!” cried Lady Haigh. “And, after all, he -is a soldier.” - -“Call it superstition if you like: I only speak of what I know, and I -would not have spoken if you had not compelled me. And there are worse -deaths than a soldier’s. One of the men I speak of was poisoned, one -was murdered in Ethiopia, one was lost in the _Nuncomar_. That’s how -it goes. What sort of man is young Ross?” - -“Very serious, I believe,” answered Lady Haigh. The word still had its -cant meaning, which would now be expressed by “religious.” - -“So much the better for him. I can trust you to say nothing to his -sister about this?” - -“Now, is it likely? But the least you can do now is to let her come -with us. His twin sister! you couldn’t have the heart to separate them -when he may have such dreadful things before him?” - -“How would it be better if she were there?” he asked gloomily; but, as -if by a sudden impulse, parted the curtain and advanced into the room. -Penelope, her song ended, was toying with the knot of scarlet ribbons -attached to the guitar, while her hearers were trying to decide upon -the next song, when the group was divided by the abrupt entrance of a -huge man, as it seemed to her, in extraordinary clothes. It struck her -as remarkable that every man in the room seemed to stiffen into -attention at the moment, and she rose hesitatingly, wondering whether -this could possibly be Sir Henry Lennox. - -“Do me the honour to present me, Lady Haigh,” said the stranger, in a -deep voice which seemed to be subdued for the occasion. - -“Major Keeling, Miss Ross,” said Lady Haigh promptly. She was enjoying -herself. - -“I hear you wish to come up to Alibad with us,” said Major Keeling -abruptly. “Can you ride?” - -“Yes, I am very fond of it.” - -“I don’t mean trotting along an English road. Can you ride on through -the sand hour after hour, so as to keep up with the column, and not -complain? Complaints would mean that you would go no farther.” - -“I can promise I won’t complain. If I feel I can’t stick on my horse -any longer, I will get some one to tie me into the saddle.” Penelope -smiled slightly. This catechism was not without its humorous side. - -“Can you cut down your baggage to regulation limits? Let me see, what -did I promise you, Lady Haigh? A camel? Well, half that. Can you do -with a camel between you?” - -“I think so.” Penelope was conscious of Lady Haigh’s face of agony. - -“You must, if you come. Can you do what you are told?” - -“I--I believe so. I generally do.” - -“If you get orders to leave Alibad in an hour, can you forsake -everything, and be ready for the march? That’s what I mean. If I find -it necessary to send you down, go you must. Can you make yourself -useful? Oh, I daresay you can do pretty things like most young ladies, -but can you put yourself at the surgeon’s disposal after a fight, and -be some good?” - -“I would try,” said Penelope humbly. It was before Miss Nightingale’s -days, and the suggestion sounded very strange to her. Major Keeling -stood looking at her, until his black brows relaxed suddenly. - -“All right, you can come,” he said. “And,” he added, as he left the -room, “I’ll allow you a camel apiece after all.” - - - -“What an interesting-looking man Major Keeling is!” said Penelope to -her friend the next morning. - -“Some people think so. I don’t particularly admire that kind of -swarthy picturesqueness myself,” was the meditative answer. “I won’t -praise him to her on any account,” said Lady Haigh to herself. - -“It’s not that so much as his look and his voice. Don’t you know----” - -“Why, you are as bad as the girls at Bombay. One of them told me they -all perfectly doated on dear Major Keeling; he was just like a dear -delightful bandit in an opera.” - -“Really, Elma!” Penelope’s graceful head was lifted with dignity, and -Lady Haigh, foreseeing a coolness, hastened to make amends. - -“I was only in fun. We don’t doat, do we, Pen? or gush, or anything of -that sort. But it was only the happiest chance his letting you come -with us. If he had caught you singing Tennyson, or your dear Miss -Barrett--Mrs Browning, is it? what does it signify?--there would have -been no hope for you. But it happened to be Scott, and that conquered -him at once. They say he knows all the poems by heart, and recites -them before a battle. Dugald heard him doing it at Umarganj, at any -rate. The troopers like it, because they think he is muttering spells -to discomfit the enemy. Isn’t it romantic?” - -“How funny!” was Penelope’s disappointing comment. - -“He was very fond of Byron once, but he has given him up for -conscience’ sake,” pursued Lady Haigh. - -“For conscience’ sake?” - -“Yes; Byron was a man of immoral life, and his works are not fit for a -Christian’s reading.” - -“He must be a very good man, I suppose. I shouldn’t have guessed----” - -“That he was good? No; he might be mysteriously wicked, from his -looks, mightn’t he? But I believe he is really good, and he has the -most extraordinary influence over the natives. Dugald was telling me -last night that at Alibad they seemed inclined to receive him as a -saint--as if his reputation had gone before him, you know. He never -drinks anything but water, for one thing; and he doesn’t dance, and he -never speaks to a lady if he can help it---- Oh, Pen, were you very -much astonished by the catechism he put you through last night?” - -“Yes,” admitted Penelope. “He asked me such strange things, and in -such a solemn voice. I should have liked time to think before -answering.” - -“Well, it was nothing to what he asked me. I had to promise never to -keep Dugald back--or even to try to--from anything he was ordered to -do. Wasn’t it barbarous? You see, in that fight at Umarganj Dugald had -got his guns up just in time to take part, and they decided the -battle. Major Keeling was so pleased that he said at once, ‘We must -have you at Alibad,’ and of course Dugald was delighted. But when the -Chief found out he was married he almost refused to take him, for he -had sworn he would have no ladies on the frontier. And there was I, -who had said over and over again that I would never stand between -Dugald and his chances! It really looked like a romantic suicide, -leaving pathetic letters to break the cruel Major’s heart, didn’t it? -But Sir Henry Lennox interceded for me, and I told Major Keeling I -would promise anything if he would only let us both go. And now I wake -up at night dreaming that the Chief has ordered Dugald to certain -death, and I mustn’t say a word, and I lie there sobbing, or shaking -with terror, until Dugald hears me, and asks me why I don’t control my -imagination. That’s what husbands are. What with keeping them in a -good temper when they are there, and missing them when they are away, -one has no peace. Don’t invest in one, Pen.” - -“I have no intention of doing it--at any rate at present. But, -Elma----” - -“Of course I mean it all depends on your getting the right man.” Lady -Haigh was uncomfortably conscious that she might one day wish to -explain away her last remark. “Only find him, and he shall have you -with my blessing. Pen, did you notice anything about Major Keeling’s -eyes? I mean”--she went on, talking quickly to cover her sudden -realisation that the transition must have appeared somewhat abrupt to -Penelope--“did he seem to be able to read your mind? The natives -believe that he can, and say that he can tell when a man is a spy -simply by looking at him. He seems to have funny ideas, too, about -being able to foretell a person’s fate from his face. He was very much -struck by--at least”--she blundered on, conscious that she was getting -deeper and deeper into the mire--“he said something last night about -Colin’s having a very remarkable face.” - -“Oh dear, I hope he hasn’t second-sight! Colin has it sometimes, and -if two of them get together they’ll encourage one another in it,” said -Penelope wearily. “Colin is not quite sure about its being right, so -he never tries to use it, but sometimes---- Oh, Elma, I must tell you, -and I’m afraid you won’t like it at all. Colin was here before -breakfast, and talked to me a long time about George Ferrers. I think -they had been having a ride together.” - -“Colin ought to know better than to have anything to do with Ferrers. -He will get no good from him.” - -“Why, Elma, he has always been so devoted to him, and George used to -seem quite different when he was with us. Colin is terribly grieved -about what you--I--did yesterday. He says it was very wrong to break -off the engagement altogether, that I was quite right not to marry -George at once, but that I ought to have put him on probation, giving -him every possible hope for the future.” - -“I think I see you putting Captain Ferrers on probation,” said Lady -Haigh grimly, recalling her brief interview with the gentleman in -question. “He would be the last person to stand it, however much he -might wish to marry you----” She broke off suddenly. - -“But, Elma, he does,” said Penelope piteously, understanding the “But -he doesn’t” which her friend suppressed for the sake of her feelings. -“That’s the worst of it. He told Colin that he was so taken aback, and -felt himself so utterly unworthy, when you told him I was here, that -he felt the best thing for my happiness was to break off the -engagement at once. But when he came in in the evening, and saw us -both again, and heard the old songs, he felt he had thrown away his -only chance of doing better. Colin always seems to bring out the best -in him, you know, and----” - -“Do you know what happened as soon as he had said good night to you?” -asked Lady Haigh coldly. “He was beating one of his servants, who had -made a mistake about bringing his horse, so frightfully that Dugald -had to go and interfere. He said to me when he came back that it was a -comfort to think Ferrers would get a knife into him if he tried that -sort of thing on the frontier.” - -“But doesn’t that show what a terrible temper poor George has, and how -hard it must be for him to control it?” cried Penelope. “He says he -feels he should just go straight to the dogs if we took away all hope -from him. I know it’s very wrong of him to say it, but I dare not take -the responsibility, Elma. And Colin says he has always had such a very -strong feeling that in some way or other George’s eternal welfare was -bound up with him or me, or both of us, and so----” - -“Now I call that profane,” was the crushing reply. “Oh, I know Colin -would cheerfully sacrifice you or himself, or both of you, as you say, -for the sake of saving any one, and much more George Ferrers, but it -doesn’t lie with him. What if he sacrifices you and doesn’t save -Ferrers? But I know it’s no good talking. Colin will take his own -course in his own meek unbending way, and drag you after him. But I -won’t countenance it, at any rate. What has he got you to do?” - -“I know it’s my fault,” sobbed Penelope, “and I must seem dreadfully -ungrateful after all your kindness. I had been so miserable about -George’s silence, that when you told me about him yesterday I felt I -had known it all along, and that it was really a relief the blow had -fallen. And when you said he quite agreed that it was best to break -off the engagement, a weight seemed to be taken off my mind. Of course -I ought to have seen him myself--not shuffled off my responsibilities -on you, and found out what he really felt, so as to keep him from -sacrificing himself for me, and----” - -“Stuff and nonsense!” ejaculated Lady Haigh, very loudly and firmly. -“Penelope, will you kindly leave off reproaching yourself and me, and -tell me what the state of affairs is at present between you and George -Ferrers? You don’t care a rap for him; but because he says he can’t -take care of himself without a woman to help him, you are afraid to -tell him that he is a coward to try to thrust his burden off on you. -Are you engaged?” - -“No,” explained Penelope; “Colin did not wish that. It is only--only -if he keeps straight, as he calls it, at Alibad, we are to be engaged -again.” - -“And suppose you fall in love with some one else?” - -“Elma! how could I? We are practically engaged, of course.” - -“Not at all,” said Lady Haigh briskly. “You are under my charge, and I -refuse to recognise anything of the kind. Until you’re engaged again -Ferrers is no more to you than any of the other men, and I won’t have -him hanging about. Why”--reading a protest in Penelope’s face--“what -good would it be putting him on probation if he had all the privileges -of a _fiancé_? And nothing is to be said about it, Penelope. I simply -will not have it.” - -“I only want to do what is right,” said Penelope, subdued by her -friend’s authoritative tone. “As you say, it will be a truer test for -him if he does not come here often.” - -“Trust me to see to that. And Master Colin shall have a good piece of -my mind,” said Lady Haigh resolutely. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - A BLANK SHEET. - -A description in detail of the journey from Bab-us-Sahel to the -frontier would be as wearisome to the reader as the journey itself was -to the travellers. Lady Haigh and Penelope learned to remain -resolutely in the saddle for hours after they had determined that -human nature could do no more than slip off helplessly on the sand, -and they discovered also how remarkably little in the way of luxuries -one camel could carry when it was already loaded with bedding and -camp-furniture. They found that there was not much to choose, so far -as comfort was concerned, between the acknowledged desert, diversified -by sand-storms and mirages, and the so-called forests, where trees -above and bushes below were alike as dry as tinder, and a spark -carelessly dropped might have meant death to the whole party. An -interlude in the shape of a river-voyage might have seemed to promise -better things, but the small flat-bottomed steamers were cramped and -hot, incredibly destitute of conveniences, and perversely given to -running aground in spots where they had to remain until a levy had -been made on the neighbouring population to drag them off. Scenery -there was none, save banks of mud, for the river ran high above the -level of the country through which it flowed; and it was with positive -relief that the travellers disembarked at a little mud settlement -embowered in date-palms, and prepared for a further ride. A fresh -trial was awaiting Lady Haigh here in the shape of a peremptory order -to Sir Dugald to push on at once to Alibad by forced marches, leaving -the ladies to follow quietly under the care of the regimental surgeon. -Major Keeling, with a portion of his regiment and the little band of -picked men he had gathered together to help him administer his -district, had preceded the Haighs’ party, travelling as fast as -possible; and now it seemed as if his restless energy had involved him -already in hostilities with the wild tribes. Lady Haigh turned very -white as she bade her husband farewell; but she made no attempt to -hold him back, and he rode away into the sand-clouds with his two or -three horsemen. She would have liked to follow him as fast as -possible; but Dr Tarleton, a dark taciturn man, remarkable for nothing -but an absolute devotion to Major Keeling, had his orders, and meant -to obey them. He had been told to conduct the ladies quietly to -Alibad, and quietly they should go, taking proper rest, and not -pushing on faster than his medical judgment allowed. The desert was -even drier, hotter, and less inhabited than that between Bab-us-Sahel -and the river, and to the travellers it seemed unending. Of course -they suffered torments from prickly heat, and became unrecognisable -through the attacks of mosquitoes; and Lady Haigh’s ringlets worried -her so much that nothing but the thought of her husband’s -disappointment restrained her from cutting them off altogether. As the -distance from Alibad became less, however, her spirits seemed to -revive, though this was not due to any special charm in the locality. -Even Penelope was astonished at the interest and vivacity with which -her friend contemplated and remarked upon a stretch of desert which -looked like nothing so much as a sea of shifting mud, with a small -group of mud-built huts clustering round a mud-built fort, like shoals -about a sandbank, and a range of mud-coloured hills rising above it on -the left. No trees, no water, no European buildings: decidedly Alibad, -sweltering in the glaring sun, did not look a promising abode. Sir -Dugald must be very delightful indeed if his presence could render -such a place even tolerable. And why had he not come to meet his wife? - -“Look there!” cried Lady Haigh suddenly. “What’s that?” - -She pointed with her whip to the desert on the right of the town. A -cloud of dust, followed by another somewhat smaller, seemed to be -leaving the neighbourhood of the fort and the huts at a tremendous -pace, crossing the route of the travellers at right angles. - -“I think it must be one man chasing another,” suggested Penelope, -whose eyes had by this time become accustomed to the huge dust-clouds -raised by even a single horseman. - -“Not quite, Miss Ross,” said Dr Tarleton, with a grim chuckle. “That’s -the Chief taking his constitutional, with his orderly trying to keep -up with him. There!”--as a patch of harder ground made a break in the -cloud of dust--“you can see him now. Look there, though! something is -wrong. He’s riding without any cap or helmet, and that means things -are very contrary indeed. It would kill any other man, but he can -stand it in these moods, though I got him to promise not to run such -risks. Look out!” - -He checked his horse sharply, for the two riders came thundering -across the path, evidently without seeing those who were so near -them--Major Keeling with his hair blowing out on the wind and his face -distorted with anger, the orderly urging his pony to its utmost speed -to keep up with the Commandant’s great black horse. - -“Don’t be frightened. He’ll work it off in that way,” said the doctor -soothingly to his two charges. “When you see him next, he’ll be as -mild as milk, but it’s as well not to come in his way just now. Look, -Lady Haigh! isn’t that your husband coming?” - -It was indeed Sir Dugald who rode up, spick and span in a cool white -suit, but with a worried look about his eyes which did not fade for -some time. “You look rather subdued,” he remarked, when the first -greetings had been exchanged. “I am afraid Alibad isn’t all you -expected it?” - -“Why, it’s perfectly charming!” cried Lady Haigh hurriedly. “So--so -unique!” - -Sir Dugald turned to Penelope. “I shall get the truth from you, Miss -Ross. Has Elma been horribly depressed?” - -“Not at all. In fact, I wondered what made her so cheerful.” - -“Ah, I thought so. Sort of place that there’s some credit in being -jolly in--eh, Mrs Mark Tapley? Whenever I find Elma in uproariously -good spirits, I know she is utterly miserable, and trying to spare my -feelings. Wish I had the gift of cheerfulness. The Chief has been -biting our heads off all round this morning.” - -“Yes, we saw him. What is the matter with him?” cried Lady Haigh and -Penelope together. - -“Well, it’s a good thing you ladies didn’t run across him just now. -You’ve defeated one of his most cherished schemes. He meant to blow up -the fort and use the materials for housebuilding, but he was kind -enough to remember that either tents or mud huts would be fairly -uncomfortable for you, so he spared the old place until we could get a -roof over our heads. But meanwhile the Government heard of his -intention, and forbade him to destroy such an interesting relic, so -the new canal has to make a big bend, and all his plans are thrown -out. And as if that wasn’t enough, in comes a _cossid_ [messenger] -this morning with letters from Sir Henry, hinting that his differences -with the Government are so acute that he feels he’ll be forced to -resign, and then we are safe to have a wretched civilian over us. Of -course the Chief feels it, and we’ve felt it too.” - -“Poor Major Keeling! I feel quite guilty,” said Lady Haigh. - -“Oh, you needn’t. You’ll have a crow to pluck with him when I tell you -why he sent me that order to hurry on from the river. It was simply -and solely to test you--to see if you would keep your promise. If you -had protested and raised a storm, Tarleton had orders to pack you both -down-stream again immediately.” - -“Really! To lay traps for one in that way!” Indignation choked Lady -Haigh’s utterance, and she rode on in wrathful silence while her -husband pointed out to Penelope the line of the projected roads and -canals, now only indicated by rows of stakes, the young trees just -planted in sheltered spots, and carefully fenced in against goats and -firewood-seekers, and the rising walls or mere foundations of various -large buildings. Crossing an open space, dotted with the dark tents -and squabbling children of a wandering tribe of gipsy origin, they -rode in at the gateway of the fort, where the great doors hung idly -against the wall, unguarded even by a sentry. Sir Dugald helped the -ladies to dismount, and led them into the first of a range of lofty, -thick-walled rooms, freshly white-washed. - -“You’ll be in clover here,” he said. “The heat in the tents is like -nothing on earth. The Chief is a perfect salamander; but your brother, -Miss Ross, has been living under his table with a wet quilt over it, -and I have scooped out a burrow for myself in the ground under my -tent. Porter” (the Engineer officer already mentioned) “makes his boy -pour water over him every night when he goes to bed, so as to get an -hour or so of coolness. By the bye, Elma, the Chief and Ross and -Tarleton are coming to dine with us to-night.” - -“Dugald!” cried Lady Haigh, in justifiable indignation. “That man will -be the death of me! To dine, when there is no time to get any food, -and the servants haven’t come up, and there isn’t any furniture!” - -“Well, perhaps I ought to say that we are to dine with him up here. He -provides the food, and we are to have it in the durbar-room over -there. It’s a sort of festivity to celebrate your coming up. He really -means it well, you know.” - -Lady Haigh was perceptibly mollified, but she took time to thaw. - -“It is a pretty idea of Major Keeling’s,” she said, in a less chilly -tone. “At least, if---- Dugald, tell me: he hasn’t asked Ferrers?” - -“Why should he? And he couldn’t, in any case. Ferrers is in charge of -our outpost at Shah Nawaz, miles away.” - -“And Major Keeling knows nothing--about Penelope?” - -“How could he? I haven’t told him, and I shouldn’t imagine Ferrers -has. Besides, I thought there was nothing to tell? But there are -complications ahead. If the General goes home we are bound to have -Ferrers’ uncle, old Crayne, sent to Bab-us-Sahel, and then I don’t -think his aspiring nephew will stay long up here.” - -“Well, Penelope shan’t go down with him. Did you call me, Pen?” and -Lady Haigh rose from the box on which she and her husband had seated -themselves to enjoy a brief _tête-à-tête_, and hurried after -Penelope, who was exploring the new domain. - - - -However troubled Major Keeling’s mind may have been when he started on -his ride, he seemed to have left all care behind him when he appeared -in Lady Haigh’s dining-room--as he insisted on calling it, although he -himself was responsible for both the dinner and the furniture. He laid -himself out to be amiable with such success that Sir Dugald averred -afterwards he had sat trembling through the whole meal, feeling -certain that the Chief could not keep it up, and dreading some fearful -explosion. The ladies and Colin Ross, who were less accustomed to meet -the guest officially, saw nothing remarkable in his courteous -cheerfulness; and though Penelope’s heart warmed towards the man who -could so completely lay aside his own worries for the sake of his -friends, Lady Haigh, whose mind had recurred to her wrongs, could -barely bring herself to be civil to him. He turned upon her at last. - -“Lady Haigh, I am in disgrace; I know it. I have felt a chill of -disapproval radiating from you the whole time I have been sitting -beside you. What have I done? Ah, I know! Haigh has let the cat out of -the bag. How dare you betray official secrets, sir? Well, Lady Haigh, -am I never to be forgiven?” - -“I could forgive your sending for my husband,” said Lady Haigh, with -dignity, “especially as there was no danger; but to doubt my word, -after I had promised----” - -“I had no doubt whatever of your intention of keeping your word. What -I was not quite sure about was your power. I expect heroism from you -two ladies as a matter of course. Every British commander has a right -to expect it from Englishwomen, hasn’t he? But I want something -more,--I want common-sense. I want you, when your husband, Lady Haigh, -and your brother, Miss Ross, and the rest of us, are all away on an -expedition, and perhaps there’s not a man in the station but Tarleton, -to go on just as usual--to sew and read, and go out for your rides as -if you hadn’t the faintest anxiety to trouble you. While we are away -doing the work, you’ll have to represent us here, and impress the -natives.” - -“Why didn’t you tell us that you only wanted people without any -natural feelings?” demanded Lady Haigh. - -“I did, didn’t I? You seemed to think so when I gave you leave to come -up. At any rate, if you bring natural feelings up here, you must be -able to control them. Whatever the trouble is, you must keep up before -the natives, or our friends will be discouraged, and our enemies -emboldened. Did you think I could allow the greatest chance that has -ever come to this district to be jeopardised for the sake of natural -feelings?” He emphasised the words with an almost savage sneer. “Think -what our position is here. Alibad is an outpost of British India, not -merely of Khemistan; we are the advanced-guard of civilisation--not a -European beyond until you come to the Scythian frontier. We hold one -of the keys of India; any enemy attacking from this side must pass -over our bodies. And how do we expect to maintain the position? Not by -virtue of stone walls. When I came up here first I found a wretched -garrison shut in--locked in--in this very fort, with the tribes -plundering up to the gates. I turned them out, and gave orders that -the gates were never to be fastened again. Out on the open plain we -are and we shall be, if we have to sleep in our boots to the end of -our lives. Peace and security for the ryot, endless harrying for the -raider until he gives up his evil ways. There shall not be a spot on -this border where the ruffians shall be able to pause for a sip of -water without looking to see if the Khemistan Horse are behind them, -and before long their own people will give them up when they go back -to their tribes. Teach the whole country that we have come to stay, -that it pays better to be on our side than against us--there is the -beginning.” - -“And then?” asked Penelope breathlessly. - -“And then--you know the old saying in Eastern Europe, ‘The grass never -grows where the Turk’s hoof has trod’? Here it shall be, ‘Where the -Englishman’s hoof has trod, the grass grows doubly green.’ Down by the -river they called all this part Yagistan, you know--the country of the -wild men,” he explained for Penelope’s benefit, “but now the name has -retreated over the frontier. That’s not enough, though. We have the -district before us like a blank sheet--a sea of sand, without -cultivation or trade, and precious little of either to hope for from -the inhabitants. What is our business? To cover that blank sheet. -Canals, then cultivation; roads, then travel; fairs, then trade. The -thing will be an object-lesson all the way into Central Asia. Only -give me the time, and it shall be done. I have the men and the free -hand, and----” He broke off suddenly, and laughed with some -embarrassment. “No wonder you are all looking at me as if you thought -me mad,” he said; “I seem to have been forcing my personal aspirations -on you in the most unwarranted way. But as I have burdened you with -such a rodomontade, I can’t well do less than ask whether any one has -any suggestions that would help in making it a reality.” - -“I have,” said Lady Haigh promptly. “If you want the natives to think -we mean to stay here, Major Keeling, we ought to have a club, and -public gardens.” - -“So we ought, and it struck me only to-day that this old fort might -serve as a club-house when your house is built, Lady Haigh, and you -turn out of it. I won’t have it used for anything remotely connected -with defence or administration, but to turn it over to the station as -a place of amusement ought to produce an excellent effect. But as to -the gardens----” - -“Why, that space in front!” cried Lady Haigh. “Turn those gipsies off, -and you have the very place, with the club on this side, and the -church and your new house and all the government buildings opposite.” - -“Excellent!” said Major Keeling. “The gipsies have already had notice -to quit, and a new camping-ground appointed them, but I meant to use -the space for godowns until my plans were thrown out. Really I begin -to think I made a mistake in not welcoming ladies up here. Their -advice seems likely to be distinctly useful.” - -“What an admission!” said Lady Haigh, with exaggerated gratitude. “But -don’t be deceived by Major Keeling’s flattery, Pen. Very soon you’ll -find that he has set a trap to see whether you have any natural -feelings.” - -“How could I subject another lady to such a test when you have -objected so strongly, pray? Miss Ross need fear nothing at my hands.” - -“Well, I call that most unfair. Come, Pen. Why!”--Lady Haigh broke off -with a little laugh--“we have no drawing-room in which to give you -gentlemen tea.” - -“Have you visited the ramparts yet?” asked Major Keeling. “You will -find them a pleasant place in the evenings, and even in the daytime -there will sometimes be shade and a breeze there. I had one of the -tower staircases cleaned and made safe for your benefit, and if you -will honour me by considering the ramparts as your drawing-room this -evening, the servants shall bring the tea there.” - -The suggestion was gladly accepted, and a move was made at once. The -rampart, when reached, proved to afford a pleasant promenade, and the -diners separated naturally into couples. Lady Haigh had much to say to -her husband, while the doctor and Colin Ross gravitated together, -rather by the wish of the older man than the younger, it appeared, and -Penelope found herself in Major Keeling’s charge. They stood beside -the parapet after a time, and he pointed out to her the watchfires of -the camp below, the stretch of desert beyond, white in the moonlight, -and beyond that again the distant hills, the portals of unexplored -Central Asia. - -“Do you hear anything?” he asked her suddenly. - -She strained her ears, but beyond the faint sounds of the camp, the -stamping of an impatient horse, the clink of a bridle, or the clank of -a sentry’s weapon, she could hear nothing. - -“I knew it,” he said. “It is only fancy, but I wondered whether this -night-stillness would affect you as it does me. You know what it is to -stand alone at night and look into the darkness, and listen to the -silence? Whenever I do that on this frontier I hear -footsteps--hurrying steps, the steps of a multitude, passing on and on -for ever. I pray God I may never hear them turn aside and come this -way!” - -“Why?” asked Penelope, awed by his tone. - -“Because they are the footsteps of the wild tribes of Central Asia, -whose fathers poured down through these passes to the conquest of -India. They wander from place to place, owning no master, obeying -their chiefs when it suits them, always ready for plunder and rapine. -And to the south, spread out before them, is the wealth of the -idolater and the Kaffir. Of course, it would take something to move -them--a cattle-plague, perhaps, leading to famine--and a leader to -unite them sufficiently to utilise their vast numbers to advantage; -but who is to know what is going on beyond those hills? There are men -who have gone there and returned--that splendid young fellow Whybrow -is there now--but they see only what they are allowed to see. I tell -you, sometimes at night the thought of those wandering millions comes -upon me with such force that I cannot rest. I get up and ride--ride -along the border, even across it into Nalapur, to make sure that the -tribes are not at our very doors.” - -“You ride alone at night? But that must be very dangerous!” - -“Dangerous? If I was afraid of danger, I should not be here.” - -“But your life is so valuable. Has no one begged you to be prudent?” - -“My officers used to preach to me, but I have broken them of it--all -but the doctor. Poor Tarleton! he is a very faithful fellow. But will -you think me quite mad, Miss Ross, if I tell you that there is another -sound as well? It is as if the warder of a fortress should listen -across a valley, and hear the tread of the sentry on the ramparts of a -hostile fortress opposite. And the tread comes nearer.” - -“Major Keeling, you frighten me. Who--what do you mean?” - -He laughed. “Oh, the tread is a good thousand miles away yet. But it -is coming nearer, all the same. Nominally it is stopped by the Araxes, -but it is already pressing on to the Jaxartes. The Khanates will be -absorbed, and then--will the two warders meet face to face then, I -wonder? It may not be in my day, or even yours, but it will come.” - -“You mean Scythia? But is she advancing? Why----?” - -“Is it for me to say? She explains it as the trend of her manifest -destiny; we say it is her hunger for territory. But she advances, and -we remain stationary, or worse, advance and retreat again. But retreat -from this point we will not while the breath of life is in me,” he -cried passionately; “and when I die, I mean to be buried here, if -there is any burial for me at all, that at least the bones of an -Englishman may hold the frontier for England.” - -“But,” hesitated Penelope, “if we don’t want to advance, why shouldn’t -she?--up to our frontier, I mean, not beyond.” - -“Because she wouldn’t stop there. How could she, after sweeping over -all the barren worthless regions, pause when a rich fertile country -lay before her? I couldn’t myself. Otherwise, one would say that at -any rate her rule could not be worse than the present state of things. -There are plague-spots in Central Asia, like Gamara, which ought to be -swept from the face of the earth. But we ought to do it, not they. -It’s our men who have been done to death there--not spies, but -regularly accredited representatives of the Government--and we don’t -stir a finger to avenge them. Whybrow takes his life in his hand when -he enters Central Asia, and so will any man who follows him.” - -“But why don’t we do anything?” asked Penelope, wondering at his -impassioned tone, and little dreaming of the sinister influence which -the wicked city of Gamara was to exercise over her own life. - -“Because we are too lazy, too meek, too much afraid of -responsibility--anything! Old Harry--I beg your pardon--Sir Henry -Lennox would do it. I heard him say so once to the troops at a -review--that he would like nothing better than to conquer Central Asia -at their head, plundering all the way to Gamara. He got pulled up for -it, of course. He isn’t exempt from official recognition of that kind -any more than meaner people, though I really think I am particularly -unfortunate. Just now I am in trouble with Church as well as State. I -was so ill-advised as to write to a bishop about sending missionaries -here.” - -“Oh, I am so glad!” said Penelope. “Colin--my brother--is so -disappointed that you haven’t asked for any.” - -“Ah, but wait. I want to pick the men. To let the wrong man loose up -here would be to destroy all my hopes for the frontier. There’s a -fellow at the Cape named Livingstone--the man who made a long -waggon-journey a year or two ago to look for some great lake the -natives talked of, but found nothing, and means to try again--if I -could get him I should be happy. He’s a doctor--physics the people as -well as preaches to them, you see, and that’s the kind of Christianity -that appeals to untutored savages like his flock and mine. Well, I -asked the bishop if he could send us up a man like that, and his -chaplain answered that I was evidently not aware that the Church’s -care was for men’s souls, not their bodies. I wrote back that the -Church must be very different from her Master if that was the case; -and the answer came that in consequence of the unbecoming tone of my -last communication, his lordship must decline any further -correspondence with me. But that’s nothing. When I have fought for -months to bring some exploit of the regiment’s to the notice of the -authorities, and got an official commendation at last, I have had to -insert in regimental orders a scathing rebuke of the insubordinate and -unsuitable letters from me which had extorted it. But why am I telling -you all this? It must have bored you horribly.” - -“Oh no!” cried Penelope. “I have been so much interested. And even if -not, I am so glad to listen, if it is any help to you----” - -“Help?” he asked sharply. “Why on earth should it be a help?” - -“I don’t know,” answered Penelope, with some surprise. “I only -thought--perhaps you don’t care to talk things over with your -officers--it might be a relief to say what you think sometimes----” - -“I believe that’s it,” he answered; “and therefore I pour out the -bottled-up nonsense of years on your devoted head, without any thought -of your feelings. You should have checked me, Miss Ross. I ought to -have been asking you if you adored dancing, or what the latest fashion -in albums was, instead of keeping you standing while I discoursed on -things as they are and should not be. Another time you must pull me up -short.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - UNSTABLE. - -Captain Ferrers was jogging gloomily across the desert from Fort -Shah Nawaz to Alibad, and his face was only the index to his thoughts. -At the moment he did not know whether he hated more the outpost of -which he was in command or the errand that was taking him to Alibad, -and as he rode he cursed his luck. There was no denying that -everything seemed to go wrong with him. Harassed by debts and awkward -acquaintances at Bab-us-Sahel, he had acquiesced with something like -relief in Sir Henry Lennox’s suggestion, which was practically a -command, that he should sever himself altogether from his old -associates by taking service on the frontier. But, knowing as he did -that he was sent there partly as a punishment and partly in hope of -saving him for better things, he felt it quite unnecessary to -conciliate his gaoler, as he persisted in considering Major Keeling. -The two men were conscious of that strong mutual antipathy which -sometimes exists without any obvious or even imagined reason, and -Major Keeling was not sorry when Ferrers showed an inclination to -claim the command at Shah Nawaz as his right. It was not an ideal post -for a man who needed chiefly to be saved from himself; but Ferrers was -senior to all the other men save Porter the Engineer, who could not be -spared from the head station. Therefore Ferrers had his desire, and -loathed it continuously from the day he obtained it. The place was no -fort in reality, merely a cluster of mud-brick buildings, standing -round a courtyard in which the live stock of the garrison was gathered -for safety at night, and possessing a gateway which could be blocked -up with thorn-bushes. On every side of it spread the desert, with some -signs of cultivation towards the south, and in the north the dark -hills which guarded the Akrab Pass, the door into Central Asia. To -Ferrers and his detachment fell the carrying out in this neighbourhood -of the policy outlined by Major Keeling in his conversation at the -dinner-table--the protection of the peaceable inhabitants of the -district, and the incessant harrying of all disturbers of the peace, -whether from the British or the Nalapuri side of the frontier. At -first the life was fairly exciting, though Ferrers’ one big fight was -spoilt by the necessity of sending to Alibad for reinforcements; but -now that things were settling down, it was irksome in the extreme to -patrol the country unceasingly without ever catching sight of an -enemy. Ferrers panted against the quietness which Major Keeling’s -rigorous rule was already establishing on both sides of the border. He -would have preferred the system prevailing in the neighbouring -province, where a raid on the part of the tribes was answered by a -British counter-raid, when villages were burnt, crops destroyed, and -women and children dismissed homeless to the hills, the troops -retiring again immediately to their base of operations until the -tribes had recovered strength sufficiently for the whole thing to be -gone through again. It was a poor thing to nip raids in the bud, or -arrest them when they were only just begun: a big raid, followed by -big reprisals, was the sort of thing that lent zest to frontier-life -and stimulated promotion. However, Major Keeling’s whole soul was set -against thrilling experiences of this kind, and Ferrers was forced to -submit. But his love of fighting was as strong as ever, and had led to -the very awkward and unfortunate incident which he was now to do his -best to explain at Alibad, whither he had been called by a peremptory -summons. - -The root, occasion, or opportunity of all crime on the border at this -time was the practice of carrying arms, which had grown up among the -inhabitants during many years of oppression from above and incursions -from without. Now that protection was assured them, the custom was -unnecessary and dangerous, and any man appearing with weapons was -liable to have them confiscated--the people grumbling, but submitting. -Hence, when word was brought to Ferrers that a company of armed men -had been seen traversing the lands of one of the villages in his -charge, it was natural to conclude that they were raiders from beyond -the border, who had escaped the vigilance of the patrols, and hoped to -harry the countryside. Ferrers at once started in pursuit, and the -armed men, their weapons laid aside, were discovered in the village -cornfields, busily engaged in gathering in the crop. The impudence -displayed fired Ferrers, and he ordered his men to charge. His -_daffadar_, a veteran soldier, ventured to advise delay and a parley, -but he refused to listen. He meant to make an example of this party of -robbers, not to offer them terms, and a moment later his troopers were -riding down the startled reapers. These made no attempt to resist, -though they filled the air with protests, and before the troop could -wheel and ride through them again, a voice reached Ferrers’ ear which -turned him sick with horror. - -“Sahib! sahib!” it cried, “we are the Sarkar’s poor ryots! Why do you -kill us?” - -This time the parley was granted, and Ferrers learned too late that -the men he had attacked were the inhabitants of the village to which -the field belonged, that they had brought their weapons with them -owing to a warning that the people of another village intended to -attack them and carry off their harvest, and that the second village -had revenged itself for its disappointment by sending Ferrers the -information which had led him wrong. There was nothing to be done but -to rebuke the village elders severely for not warning him of the -intended attack instead of taking the law into their own hands, -assuage the sufferings of the wounded by distributing among them all -the money he had about him, and return drearily to Shah Nawaz to draw -up a report of the occurrence. It was his luck all over, he told -himself, ignoring the reminder that he had not attempted to avert the -fight--in fact, that he had hurried it on for the mere sake of -fighting. It was all the fault of the life at this wretched outpost, -where there was nothing a man could do but fight, and that was -forbidden him. It was little comfort to remember that Major Keeling, -in his place, would have found the day all too short for the -innumerable things to be done. He would have been in the saddle from -morning till night, visiting the villages, holding impromptu courts of -justice, looking for traces of old irrigation-works or planning new -ones, and filling up any odds and ends of time by instituting -shooting-competitions among his troopers, or making experiments in -gardening. Ferrers was a very different man from his Commandant, -though he could be brave enough when there was fighting to be done, -and owed his captaincy to his gallantry on a hard-won field. Without -the stimulus of excitement he was prone to fits of indolence, when the -monotonous round of daily duty was intolerably irksome; and he was -further handicapped by the fact that whereas the change to the -frontier had been intended to cut him off from his old life, he had, -unknown to the older men who were trying to direct his course anew, -succeeded in bringing a portion of his past with him. - -The fashion among the young officers at Bab-us-Sahel at this time -might be said to run in the direction of slumming. The example had -been set a year or two before by a young man of brilliant talents and -unscrupulous audacity, whose delight it was to escape from -civilisation and live among the natives as one of themselves. This man -was the despair of his seniors, but in the course of his escapades he -contrived to pick up much curious and some useful information. To -follow in his footsteps meant to defy the authorities now and possibly -gain credit later, and this was sufficiently good reason for doing so. -In the case of men of less brilliance or less audacity the natural -result was merely to lead them into places they had much better have -shunned, and acquaint them with persons whom it would have been wiser -not to know. Ferrers was one of those who had followed the pioneer’s -example without gaining the slightest advantage, and he knew this; so -that when the chance of freeing himself came to him, he was almost -ready to welcome it. Almost, but not quite. It so happened that a rule -had lately been introduced requiring a literary knowledge of the local -language from officers employed in the province. Major Keeling, while -remarking to Ferrers, with his usual contempt for the actions of his -official superiors, that in his opinion a colloquial acquaintance with -it was all that was really needed, advised him to take a munshi with -him to Shah Nawaz, and employ his leisure there in study. No sooner -had the advice been given than the munshi presented himself in the -person of one of Ferrers’ disreputable associates, the Mirza -Fazl-ul-Hacq. Originally a Mohammedan religious teacher, this man was -in some way under a cloud, and was regarded by his co-religionists -much as an unfrocked clergyman would be in England. This fact was in -itself an attraction to Ferrers and the young men of his stamp, to -whom there was an actual delight in finding that one who ought to be -holy had gone wrong, and the Mirza professed a strong attachment to -him in return. Now he begged to be allowed to accompany him to the -frontier as his munshi, asserting, with perfect truth, that he was -well acquainted with all the dialects in use there. Ferrers, who had -begun to look back regretfully at the pleasures from which he was to -be torn, closed with the offer, and the Mirza was duly enrolled in his -retinue. The two were closeted together in all Ferrers’ hours of -leisure at Shah Nawaz, but remarkably little study was accomplished. -The Mirza was an adept at various games of chance, he brewed delicious -sherbets (not without the assistance of beverages forbidden by his -religion), and he was a fascinating story-teller. Thoroughly worthless -as Ferrers knew him to be, the man had made himself necessary to him, -and he half hated, half condoned, the fact. When a fellow led such a -dog’s life, how could he refuse any chance of congenial companionship -that offered itself? - -It might have been objected that Ferrers was within riding distance of -Alibad, and that there was no law cutting him off from his friends -there; but since Colin and Penelope Ross had come up-country he had -avoided the place as if it were plague-stricken. Lady Haigh had been -quite right in her interpretation of his feelings, and though he had -succeeded in winning over Colin to plead his cause with Penelope, he -now wondered gloomily why he could not have let well alone. He was -always acting on impulse, he told himself, in a way that his cooler -judgment disapproved, and it did not occur to him that he had to thank -the Mirza’s influence over him for this fresh change. In fact, he was -not conscious of it, for the subject was never mentioned between them; -but in the Mirza’s society he felt no desire for that of his old -friends. He had a real fondness for Colin, the one man of his -acquaintance who believed in him, though he found it terribly -fatiguing to keep up in his company the pretence of being so much -better than he was. Colin had no idea of his real tastes and pursuits, -and, curious though it may seem, Ferrers was prepared to take a good -deal of trouble to prevent his becoming aware of them. The thought -that Colin’s eyes would never rest upon him in kindness again was -intolerable; and if Colin alone had been concerned, his mind would -have been at ease. But if he married Penelope, he must either give up -the Mirza, or she must know, and therefore Colin would know, a good -many things he would prefer to keep secret--and what counterbalancing -advantage would there be? Though he had felt his interest in her -revive when he saw her admired and courted, she was not the type of -woman who could keep him in thrall: she would suffer in silence, and -look at him reproachfully with eyes that were like Colin’s, and there -would be little pleasure in that. - -At this point Ferrers’ meditations were suddenly interrupted. Intent -upon his mental problem, it was with a shock that he found himself -confronted by a trooper of the Khemistan Horse. He tried to discover -what emergency could have dictated the posting of vedettes at this -distance from the town, but learned only that it was the Doctor -Sahib’s order. Wondering vaguely whether there was plague in the -district, and the doctor was establishing a sanitary cordon, he rode -on, to see more vedettes in the distance, and to be sharply challenged -by a sentry as he entered the town. The squalid streets seemed wholly -destitute of the military element which usually gave them brightness; -but in the courtyard of the mud building which served as a hospital Dr -Tarleton was hard at work drilling a motley band of convalescents and -hospital assistants, with a stiffening of dismounted troopers, who -appeared to be bored to extinction by the proceedings. - -“What’s up, Tarleton?” cried Ferrers, after watching in bewilderment -the strange evolutions of the corps and their instructor’s energetic -endeavours to get them straight. - -Hearing the voice, Dr Tarleton turned round and hurried to the wall, -wiping his face as he came. “Oh, the Chief and all the rest are away, -and I’m in charge. Nothing like being prepared for the worst, you -know. This is my volunteer force--the Alibad Fencibles. I say, tell me -the right word, there’s a good fellow! I’ve got ’em all massed in that -corner, and I can’t get ’em out without going back to the beginning.” - -Ferrers whispered two or three words into the doctor’s ear, watched -him write them down, and rode on towards the fort, taking some comfort -in the thought that his unpleasant interview with Major Keeling must -necessarily be postponed. It was clear that it was his duty to pay his -respects to the ladies, and by good luck it was just calling-time. - -Lady Haigh and Penelope had now been two or three months at Alibad, -and the heat and burning winds of the shadeless desert were leaving -their mark upon them. Both had lost their colour, and even Lady Haigh -moved languidly, while Penelope was propped up with cushions in a long -chair. She had had a sharp attack of fever, and Ferrers, with an -inward shudder, wondered how he could have thought her handsome when -she landed. But both ladies were unfeignedly pleased to see him, -principally because they were glad of anything that would divert their -thoughts; and he experienced a pleasant sense of contentment and -wellbeing on finding himself established in the dark cool room, with -two women to talk to him. He found that the station had been bereft of -almost the whole of its defenders for nearly twenty-four hours. Two -nights ago Sir Dugald had started with a small force in pursuit of a -band of Nalapuri raiders who were reported to be ravaging the most -fertile part of the border, and yesterday an urgent message had come -from him asking for reinforcements and Major Keeling’s presence. - -“But if Haigh and his guns are gone out, it must be a big affair,” -said Ferrers. - -“Oh no, the guns are left at home,” said Lady Haigh. “All of us are -people of all work here. Sir Dugald digs canals, and Captain Porter -conducts cavalry reconnaissances, and Major Keeling works the -guns----” - -“And the doctor drills the awkward squad,” supplied Ferrers. “What a -lively time you seem to have!” - -“Oh well, that was more at first. Then there was scarcely a night -without an alarm, and we used to hear the troops clattering out of the -town at all hours after bands of raiders. There are plenty of alarms -still, but generally in the daytime. Two villages have quarrelled over -their lands, or some ryots have objected to the survey or resisted the -digging of the canal, and Major Keeling is wanted to put things -right.” - -“But how calmly you speak of it! You and Pen--Miss Ross--must be -perfect heroines,” said Ferrers. It was clear that Lady Haigh did not -intend to leave him alone with Penelope, and with a resentment which -had in it more than a touch of relief, he set himself to tease her. -“How pleased Haigh must be to know that, whatever is happening to him, -you are just as quiet and happy as if you were at home!” - -The malice in his tone was evident, and Lady Haigh knew that he -guessed at the terrors of those broken nights, when Sir Dugald was -summoned away on dangerous duties, and she brought her bed into -Penelope’s room, and they trembled and prayed together till daylight. -But she had no intention of confessing her weakness, and answered -quickly-- - -“Of course he is. How clever of you to have gauged him so well!” - -“And do tell me what you find to do,” asked Ferrers lazily. “At -Bab-us-Sahel you used to be great at gardening.” - -“Yes, until you rode across my flower-beds and ruined them,” retorted -Lady Haigh. “You won’t find any opportunity of doing that here. Oh, we -have only poor silly little things to do compared with the constant -activity and splendid exploits of you gentlemen. We look after the -servants, of course, and try to invent food enough to keep the -household from starvation; and we get out the back numbers of the -‘Ladies’ Repository’ and the ‘Family Friend,’ and follow the -fancy-work patterns; and we read all the books and papers that come to -the station, and sometimes try very hard to improve our minds with the -standard works Miss Ross brought out with her; and in the evening we -go out in our _palkis_ to inspect the progress of the building and -road-making, and offer any foolish suggestions that may occur to us. I -think that’s all.” - -“But what a life! and in the hot weather, too! Why don’t you go to the -Hills, as the Punjab ladies do?” - -“The Punjab ladies may, if their husbands can afford it. Have you any -idea what it would cost to go to the Hills, or even down to -Bab-us-Sahel, from here?” - -“But why come here, then? What good does it do? Of course”--for Lady -Haigh was beginning to look dangerous--“it’s delightful for Haigh to -have you, and all that; but you won’t tell me he’s such a selfish chap -that he wouldn’t rather know you were comparatively cool and -comfortable down by the sea? You can’t make me believe it’s his -doing.” - -“No,” snapped Lady Haigh, “it’s ours. We are here for the good of the -station. We are civilisation, society--refinement, if you like. We -keep the gentlemen from getting into nasty jungly ways. You are -looking rather jungly yourself.” She delivered this home-thrust -suddenly, and Ferrers realised that his aspect was somewhat careless -and unkempt for the place in which he found himself. “We keep things -up to the standard, you see.” - -“Ah, but I have no one to keep me up to the standard,” he pleaded. -“Out at my place there’s no one to speak to and nothing to do.” - -“Then I wonder you chose to go there,” was the sharp retort. - -“There was plenty to do just at first, but my rascals are quiet enough -now. A good many of them are dead, for one thing. You heard of our big -fight before you came up--with a raiding-party six hundred strong? I -had to send here for help, worse luck! but even when the -reinforcements came up we were so few that the fellows actually stood -to receive us. We charged through them again and again--I never -remember a finer fight--and there were very few of them left -afterwards.” - -“You speak as if you liked it!” said Penelope, with a shudder. - -“Like it? it’s the finest thing in life--the only thing worth living -for. You see a great big brute of a Malik coming at you with a curved -tulwar just sweeping down. You try to parry, or fire your Colt -point-blank into his face, and for the moment you can’t quite decide -whether you are dead or the Malik, until you suddenly realise that -your horse is carrying you on towards another fellow, and the Malik is -down. Splendid is no word for it!” - -“Don’t!” said Lady Haigh sharply. “You’ll make Miss Ross ill again. -What’s that?” as a long-drawn, quavering cry seemed to descend from -the upper air, “Mem Sahib, the regiment returns!” - -Lady Haigh sprang up, and was rushing out of the room, when she -suddenly remembered Penelope, and ran back to her. “Yes, I’ll help -you, Pen--how selfish of me! It’s our _chaprasi_,” she explained -hurriedly to Ferrers. “I stationed him on the tower above this to -watch for any one who might be coming. He was horribly frightened, and -said he knew he should fall down and be killed; but of course I was -not going to give in to that. Carry this cushion up for Miss Ross, -please. There’s a doorway on the ramparts where she can sit in the -shade.” - -Ferrers followed obediently, as Lady Haigh half helped, half dragged -her friend up the narrow stairs, and, after allowing her one look at -the moving cloud of dust, which was all that could be seen in the -distance, established her in the doorway on the cushion, taking her -own place at a telescope which was fixed on a stand. - -“This is my own idea,” she said to Ferrers. “Now, why don’t you say I -may justly be proud of it? I am as good as a sentry, I spend so much -time up here scanning the desert. I’m glad they’re coming from that -direction, for we shall be able to distinguish them so much sooner. -They must pass us before getting into the town. Now I begin to see -them. They have prisoners with them, Pen, and there are certainly -fewer of them than started, but somehow they don’t look as if they had -been fighting. No, I see what it is. There’s a whole squadron gone!” - -“What!” cried Ferrers, who was standing by, unable to get a single -glance through the telescope, which was monopolised by his hostess. -“Clean gone, Lady Haigh? Must have been detached on special duty, -surely? It couldn’t have been wiped out.” - -“No, no, of course,” and Lady Haigh withdrew from the glass, and -allowed him to look through it; “that must be it, but it gave me such -a fright. But I saw Dugald and Colin, Pen, and the Chief. Muhabat -Khan!” she called to the _chaprasi_, who descended slowly from the top -of the tower, and stood before her in a submissive attitude but with -an injured expression, “go and meet the regiment as it comes, and say -to the Major Sahib that Ferrers Sahib is here, and that I should be -glad if he and Ross Sahib will come in to tiffin with us. Now, Pen, I -shall take you down again,” as the messenger departed. “Captain -Ferrers will bring the cushion.” - -Deposited in her chair once more, Penelope looked very white and -exhausted, and Lady Haigh reproached herself loudly in the intervals -of exchanging mysterious confidences with various servants. - -“I ought never to have taken you up to the rampart,” she said; “but I -knew you would like to see them ride in; and besides----” She checked -herself, but Ferrers guessed that she had been afraid to leave -Penelope alone lest he should try to speak to her, and he smiled as he -thought how unnecessary her precautions were. But by this time there -was a clatter of horses’ feet and accoutrements in the courtyard, and -Sir Dugald ran up the steps and kissed his wife, who had sprung to the -door to meet him. - -“The Chief and Ross are here,” he said. “Glad you sent that message, -Elma. You all right, Ferrers? Didn’t know you were coming in.” - -Major Keeling and Colin Ross were mounting the steps with much -clanking of spurs and scabbards; but it struck Ferrers, as he stood in -the doorway, that his Commandant seemed suddenly to have remembered -something, for as he reached the verandah he lifted his sword and held -it in his hand, and walked with extreme care. After greeting Lady -Haigh, he passed on into the room, and Ferrers observed with -astonishment that the big man was evidently trying to step softly and -speak low. It was not until Major Keeling bent over Penelope’s chair, -and, taking her hand very gently, asked her how she was, that the -watcher realised for whose sake these precautions were taken. - -“I felt obliged to come in when I received the order from our -beneficent tyrant over there,” said Major Keeling, in a voice which -seemed to fill the room in spite of his best endeavours; “but if our -presence disturbs you in the least, we will all go and tiffin at my -quarters, and take Haigh off with us too.” - -“Oh no, please!” entreated Penelope. “It will do me good, really. It -is so nice to see you all back.” - -There was a faint flush in her cheeks, which deepened when Major -Keeling remarked upon it approvingly; and Ferrers remembered, with -unreasonable anger, that her colour had not risen for him. It made her -look pretty again at once, and that great lout the Chief (thus -unflatteringly did he characterise his commanding officer) evidently -thought so too. Once again the younger man was a prey to the curious -form of jealousy which had led him into the impulsive action that he -now regretted. Penelope, for her own sake, had little or no charm for -him, but Penelope, admired by other men, became at once a prize worth -claiming. Ferrers regretted his impulsive action no longer. His appeal -to Colin had at any rate placed him in a position of superiority over -any other man who might approach Penelope. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - COLIN AS AMBASSADOR. - -“The curious thing was that we had no fighting,” said Major Keeling. -They were seated at the luncheon-table, and Lady Haigh had imperiously -demanded an account of the doings of the force since its departure. - -“No fighting!” she cried reproachfully. “And you have kept us in agony -two whole days while you went out for a picnic!” - -“It was more than a picnic,” said her guest seriously. “It is one of -the most mysterious things I have ever come across--a complete -success, and yet not a matchlock fired, though every one and -everything was ready for a big fight.” - -“I must get to the bottom of this,” said Lady Haigh, with the little -air of importance to which Major Keeling always yielded indulgently. -“Let me hear about it from the beginning. Dugald, you don’t mean to -say that you started out under false pretences when you told me you -were going after a band of raiders?” - -“Not at all,” answered Sir Dugald, with imperturbable good-humour. “We -found the raiders, sure enough, at the village which gave the alarm. -They had plundered the granaries, got the cattle together ready to -drive off, and were just going to fire the place when we came up. It -was rather fine when they realised it was the Khemistan Horse they had -to deal with, and not a scratch lot of villagers, for they left the -cattle and decamped promptly. Our only casualty was a trooper who came -upon two laggards at bay in a corner, and tried to take them both -prisoners. Of course we went after them, and several of the villagers, -who had appeared miraculously from their hiding-places, came too. It -was a long chase, and we stuck to them right up to the frontier. Well, -we guessed that this was the band which has made its headquarters at -Khudâdad Khan’s fortress, Dera Gul. The Amir of Nalapur has always -protested his inability to catch and punish them, so, as we had caught -them red-handed on our ground, I thought we would run them to earth. -The raiding must be stopped somehow, and if the Amir can’t do it, he -ought to be grateful to us for doing it for him.” - -Major Keeling nodded emphatically. “If he doesn’t show proper -gratitude, I’ll teach it him,” he said. - -“They rode, and we rode,” Sir Dugald went on; “and as they had the -start and travelled lighter, we had the pleasure of seeing them ride -into Dera Gul and shut the door in our faces. When we summoned -Khudâdad Khan to give them up, he told us to come and take them, and -they jeered at us from the walls and bade us be thankful they let us -go home safe. The place is abominably strong, and they had several -cannon ready mounted, and plenty of men, so I thought the best thing I -could do was to take up a position of observation, and send for -reinforcements and the guns. But as I was writing my message, one of -our friendly ryots advised me to send for Kīlin Sahib, and not -trouble about the guns. ‘You will see that they’ll surrender to him,’ -he said. I didn’t believe it, but he stuck to his text, and my -ressaldar, Bakr Ali, agreed with him, though neither of them would -give me any reason; so I added to my _chit_ an entreaty that the Major -would accompany the reinforcements if possible. And he came, saw, and -conquered.” - -“No thanks to myself,” said Major Keeling. “I summoned Khudâdad Khan -to surrender, and he did so at once, with the worst possible grace, -merely stipulating that he and his men should be considered our -prisoners, and not handed over to Nalapur. I knew the Amir would be -precious glad to get rid of them, so I consented. And after -that--Haigh, you will agree with me that it was a queer sensation--we -rode up into the fortress between the rows of scowling outlaws, spiked -the five guns, took stock of the provisions, and left Harris and a -squadron in charge of the place until we can hand it over to the Amir. -The outlaws we brought back with us, and I mean to plant them out on -the newly irrigated land to the west after they have served their -sentences. ‘It was a famous victory.’” - -“Yes, but how?--why?” cried Lady Haigh. “What made them surrender when -they saw you?” - -“If you could tell me that I should be much obliged. There’s a mystery -somewhere, which is always cropping up, and this is part of it. Why, -almost wherever I go, the Maliks and elders meet me as an old -friend--no, not quite that, as a sort of superior being--and inform me -with unction that all my orders are fulfilled already, and that they -are ready to join me with all their fighting men as soon as I want -them. It’s the same with the wild tribes, even those from over the -frontier. Sometimes I have thought there must be a mistake somewhere, -and asked them if they know who I am, and they say, ‘Oh yes, you are -Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib, the ruler of the border for the Honourable -Company,’ with a sort of foolish smirk, as if they expected me to be -pleased. I can’t help thinking they are mistaking me for some one -else.” - -“Or some one supernatural--some one of whom they have heard -prophecies,” suggested Lady Haigh breathlessly. - -“But you can’t very well ask them that--whether they take you for -Rustam come to life again--lest they should say they never thought of -comparing you to any one of the kind,” said Ferrers. The tone, rather -than the words, was offensive, but Major Keeling ignored it. - -“But they do think something of the sort, I believe,” he said. “At -least, when I was present at a tribal _jirgah_ the other day, an old -Malik from a distance remarked that as he had not seen me before, it -would be very consoling to him if I would give a slight exhibition of -my powers. He would not ask for anything elaborate--if I would just -breathe fire for a minute or two, or something of that kind, it would -be enough. I told him I wasn’t a mountebank, and the rest hustled and -scolded him into silence. But after that very meeting another old -fellow, who had been most forward in nudging the first one, and had -looked tremendously knowing as he told him that fire-breathing was not -a custom of the English, got hold of me alone, and whispered, ‘You -won’t forget, Highness, that on the night of which I may not speak you -promised I should ride at your right hand when the time comes?’ -Without thinking, I said, ‘If the night is not to be spoken of, why do -you speak of it?’ and the old fellow stammered, ‘Between you and me, I -thought it was no harm, Heaven-born,’ and after that I could get no -more out of him. Whatever I asked him, he thought I was trying to test -him, and took a pride in keeping his mouth shut.” - -“It really is most mysterious,” said Lady Haigh, “and might be most -embarrassing. Do you think you go about paying visits to Maliks in -your sleep, Major Keeling? Because, you see, you might do all sorts of -queer things as well.” - -“I know nothing whatever about it--it is totally inexplicable,” said -Major Keeling shortly, rising as he spoke. “I am sorry to break up -your party, Lady Haigh, but Captain Ferrers and I have some business -together, and he ought to be on the way back to his station before -very long.” - -Seeing that he was not to escape, Ferrers followed the Commandant, and -passed a highly unpleasant half-hour in his company. From a scathing -rebuke of the criminal carelessness which had led to the late -regrettable incident, Major Keeling passed to personalities. - -“What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked sharply. “You ought -to be as hard as nails with the life you lead at Shah Nawaz. But -perhaps you don’t lead it. You look like a Bengal writer.” - -“With this examination in view----” began Ferrers with dignity. - -“Hang these examinations! They spoil the good men and make the bad -ones worse. I’ll have no one up here who would sacrifice his real work -to them. If you can’t keep your studies to the hot hours, when you -young fellows think it’ll kill you to go out, better give them up. -Your munshi must be a queer sort if he’s willing to work all day with -you. Who is he, by the bye? Fazl-ul-Hacq?--not one of the regular -Bab-us-Sahel munshis, surely? Next time you come in, make some excuse -to bring him with you, and I’ll have a look at him. He never seems to -be forthcoming when I hunt you up at Shah Nawaz, and when a man keeps -out of sight in that way it doesn’t look well. You think he’s all -right, I suppose?” - -Now was Ferrers’ chance. With one effort he might break with his old -life and throw off the Mirza’s yoke, exchanging his solitary indolence -at Shah Nawaz for the incessant activity which was the portion of all -who worked under Major Keeling’s own eye. But to do this he must -confess to the man he disliked that he felt himself unfit for -responsibility, and that he had practically betrayed the trust reposed -in him. Moreover, not a man in the province but would believe he had -been deprived of his command as a punishment. This thought was -decisive, and he answered quickly-- - -“Yes, sir; I believe he is an excellent teacher, and he makes himself -useful as a clerk when I want one.” - -“Well, don’t let him become indispensable. That plays the very -mischief with these fellows. They think they’ve got the Sahib under -their thumb, and can do as they like, and very often, when it’s too -late, the Sahib finds out that it’s true. Give your man his _rukhsat_ -[leave to depart] in double quick time if you see that he’s inclined -to presume.” - -Wondering savagely what Major Keeling would think of the actual terms -which prevailed between Fazl-ul-Hacq and his employer, Ferrers -acquiesced with outward meekness, and took his leave. Colin Ross had -promised to accompany him part of the way back, and with a couple of -troopers as escort they rode out into the desert. As they passed the -hospital, Dr Tarleton appeared on the verandah, and shook his fist at -Ferrers. - -“You rascal!” he cried. “Those words of command you gave me were all -humbug. Just wait until I get you in hospital!” - -“What does he mean?” asked Colin, as Ferrers rode on laughing. - -“Oh, he was trying to drill a lot of non-combatants this morning, and -asked me how to get them out of a corner. Of course I favoured him -with a few directions, with the result that his squad got more -gloriously mixed up than ever. Only wish I had seen them!” - -“Tarleton is a good fellow,” said Colin, with apparent irrelevance. - -“Don’t be a prig, young ’un. Must have a bit of fun sometimes. What is -a man to do, stuck down in a desert under a commandant who’s either a -scoundrel or silly?” - -“You mean what the Major was telling us at tiffin? But it’s perfectly -true: they did surrender the moment they saw him.” - -“I daresay. He has carefully circulated all these rumours about his -miraculous powers, and then pretends to be surprised that the niggers -believe them. He’s a blatant theatrical egotist--a regular old -Crummles. ‘I can’t think who puts these things in the papers. _I_ -don’t.’ Oh no, of course not!” - -“If you mean that Major Keeling is a hypocrite, I don’t agree with -you.” - -“Now don’t get white-hot. If he isn’t, then he has read Scott till his -brain is turned. You’re such an innocent that you don’t see the man -does everything for effect. His appearance, his perpetual squabbles -with headquarters, his popularity-hunting up here, the idiotic things -he does--they’re all calculated to produce an impression, to make the -unsophisticated stare, in fact. Why, one of my patrols came across him -riding alone at midnight not long ago, miles away from here. The man -must be either mad or a fool.” - -“I think you are wrong,” said Colin seriously. “I believe him to be -sincere, though mistaken on some points.” - -“What! he’s in your black books too? How has he managed that?” - -“He has forbidden me to preach publicly to the men,” was the answer, -given in a low voice, but with strong feeling--“said it would lead -either to religious persecution or the suspicion of it, and that I -must be satisfied with showing them a Christian life, and teaching any -one who might come to me privately of his own accord. But that isn’t -enough. They don’t come, and how can I reach them?” - -“Poor old Colin!” said Ferrers, much amused. “What a Crusader you are, -far too good to live nowadays. Fancy finding you in rebellion against -constituted authority! I’ll back you to get more and more stubborn the -worse he bullies you.” - -Colin’s face flushed. “No, I was wrong to speak as I did,” he said. -“It is possible the Major may be right, though I cannot see it. In any -case, it is my duty to submit for the present.” - -“Which means that you won’t accept my sympathy against the great -Keeling. You always were a staunch little chap, Colin. Bet anything -you stick up for me behind my back just as you do for him.” - -“Of course,” said Colin simply; “you are our oldest friend.” - -“That’s all very well, but your sister doesn’t feel as you do. It was -pretty clearly intimated to me to-day that I was not to call her -Penelope, by the bye. She’s done with me, I see. She scarcely spoke a -word to me the whole time I was there.” - -“No, no; indeed you are wrong,” said Colin eagerly. “She is ill, and -can’t talk much. She knows your wishes perfectly. Why, you can’t think -I would ever let her disappoint you?” - -“You wouldn’t, perhaps, but Lady Haigh would be precious glad to see -her do it. Look here, Colin, give your sister a message from me. Put -it properly--that while I accept her ruling, and won’t venture to -address her at present--you know the sort of thing?--yet I fully -intend to claim her promise some day, and I regard her as belonging to -me, and I trust she does the same. Make it as strong as you like.” - -“I will. I didn’t know you took it to heart so much, and Penelope will -be glad to know it too. I’m sure she has an idea that you don’t--well, -care for her as you once did. But now I can put that right. You know -that there’s no one I would sooner have as a brother-in-law if--if all -was well with you.” - -“Yes, yes, all in good time. There is one of my patrols over there, so -you had better turn back now. All right!” - -Colin turned back with the escort, and Ferrers pursued his way, fuming -inwardly. He did not wish to deceive his friend. Was it his fault if -Colin was so ridiculously easy to deceive, and persisted in believing -the best of him in spite of all evidence to the contrary? Ferrers knew -what his last sentence had meant. There were certain books with which -Colin had provided him, entreating him to read them, when he went to -Shah Nawaz, and which he was always anxious to discuss with him when -they met. Since the only form of religious study to which Ferrers had -given any attention of late was the convenient philosophy expounded by -the Mirza, which proved right and wrong to be much the same thing, and -man to be equally irresponsible for either, he congratulated himself -on having so skilfully evaded cross-examination. - -As for Colin, he rode back to Alibad with a serious face, and, instead -of stopping at his quarters, went on to the fort to find Penelope. He -was full of generous indignation over the treatment Ferrers had -received, and he was glad Lady Haigh was out of the way. Penelope -raised her tired head from her cushions in surprise as he entered. - -“Why, Colin! Is there anything the matter, dear?” - -“I am disappointed in you, Pen,” he returned gently, sitting down -beside her. “You have treated poor George very unkindly to-day.” - -Reproof from Colin, though he was only her own age, was very grievous -to Penelope. “Oh no,” she cried, trying to defend herself; “I scarcely -spoke to him, and I’m sure I said nothing unkind.” - -“That was just it. You said nothing to him, and he is deeply hurt.” - -“But he was so rough and noisy, Colin, and talked so loud. I could -scarcely bear him to be in the room.” - -“It is not like you to be selfish. He wants a helping hand just now, -and you think only of his voice and manners. It is a terrible -responsibility to push a man back when he is trying to climb up.” - -“If that was all,” said Penelope, rather warmly, “I would give him any -help I could. But you know you said he wanted more than that.” - -“Of course he does.” Colin drew back and looked at her in -astonishment. “Why, Pen, he has your promise.” - -“No, no,” she said restlessly, “not quite a promise. I--I don’t like -him, Colin. He is quite different from what he used to be. Even his -face has changed.” - -“Your promise,” he repeated. “I know you took advantage of his -generosity to withdraw it for a moment, but you renewed it again -immediately when I pointed out to you what you had done. Penelope, is -it possible that you--my sister--wish to break a solemn promise? What -reason can you possibly have for such a thing?” - -Penelope writhed. She had no reason to give, even to herself. All she -knew was that she had felt to-day as never before the incubus of -George Ferrers’ presence, the utter lack of sympathy between herself -and him. If she contrasted him with any one else, it was done -unconsciously. - -“I don’t believe he wishes it himself,” she said. “He doesn’t care for -me. He doesn’t behave as if he did.” - -“He told me himself,” returned Colin’s solemn, accusing voice, “that -while he would not venture to appeal to you at present, it was his -dearest hope to claim your promise some day. It is your privilege to -help him to raise himself again to the position he has lost. What can -be a more noble task for a woman?” - -Penelope could not say. Alone with Lady Haigh, it was easy to agree -that woman was an independent being, with a life and rights of her -own; but she would never have dreamt of asserting this to Colin, to -whom a woman was a more or less necessary complement to a man. Ferrers -needed her, therefore she would naturally accept the charge--that was -his view. - -“Would you wish me to marry him as he is now?” she asked desperately. - -“No,” he answered, after a moment’s consideration: “I am not quite -happy about him, and that is why I am most anxious you should be kind -to him. With your sympathy to help him on, and the hope of claiming -you at last, he will find the path much easier to climb. Surely this -is not too much to ask?” - -It sounded eminently fair and reasonable, but Penelope felt that it -was not. There was a flaw somewhere which Colin did not see, and she -could not point out to him, even if she could be sure that she saw it -herself. Ferrers did not care for her, she was convinced, even in the -careless, patronising style of his early days, and yet he insisted on -keeping her bound. But perhaps he loved her in some strange fashion of -his own, of which she could have no experience or conception. And -Colin thought that the sacrifice was called for. She turned to him. - -“I--I will try to like him, and help him--and do as he wishes,” she -said, finding a strange difficulty in speaking. - -“Of course. I knew you couldn’t do anything else,” said Colin, with -such utter unconsciousness of the mental struggle she had just gone -through that Penelope found his calm acquiescence almost maddening. -She was glad to be saved the necessity of answering by the sudden -entrance of Lady Haigh, who turned back to rebuke a servant for not -having drawn up the blinds, and then discovered Colin. - -“You here?” she cried. “Why, an orderly came up ten minutes ago to ask -if you had come back, and I said you hadn’t. That old wretch Gobind -Chand, the Nalapur Vizier, is to come here to-morrow instead of next -week, and every one is as busy as possible. And you have been making -Penelope cry! Well, I hope Major Keeling will give you the worst -scolding you ever had in your life--for being so late, I mean, of -course.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - MOUNTING IN HOT HASTE. - -Gobind Chand, to whom Lady Haigh had alluded, was the Hindu Vizier -of the Mohammedan state of Nalapur, the boundary of which marched with -that of Khemistan on the north. It was no secret to the rulers of -Khemistan that the consolidation of their power, of which Major -Keeling’s settlement on the frontier was only one of the signs, could -not be particularly welcome to the Amir Wilayat Ali. Formerly the -country beyond his own border had been a happy hunting-ground, whither -he could despatch any inconvenient Sardar or too successful soldier to -raid and plunder until he was tired, reserving to himself the right of -demanding a percentage of the spoil when the exile wished to return -home. There were also pleasant little pickings derivable from the -passage of caravans through the Akrab Pass, and the payment by weak -tribes or unwarlike villages of what one side called tribute and the -other blackmail, as the price of peace. These things gave the Amir a -distinct pecuniary interest in the frontier district, and during Major -Keeling’s first sojourn on the border, every effort had been made by -the Nalapuris, short of actual war, to convince him that his presence -was both undesired and useless. The lapse of time, however, and the -activity of the Khemistan Horse, proved to the Amir that his unwelcome -neighbour had come to stay, and whereas at first any raider had only -to cross the border to receive asylum, Wilayat Ali now persisted in -regarding the regiment as his private police. It was quite unnecessary -for him to take any trouble to secure marauders when the Khemistan -Horse had merely to come and seize them, and would do so whether he -liked it or not, and he announced that he left the task of keeping -order on both sides of the frontier to them, though this was not at -all Major Keeling’s intention, which had been to secure the Amir’s -active co-operation for the good of both states. To the English the -ruler posed as an obliging friend, but when he wished to demand -support or subsidies from his Sardars, he became a helpless victim -coerced by superior force; and as he could play both parts without -disturbing his own tranquillity by taking any steps whatever, he -opposed a passive resistance to all projects of reform. Major Keeling -had visions of a time when he would have leisure to arrange a -conference at which various outstanding questions might be discussed, -and the Amir brought to see what was expected of him; but in view of -the Amir’s obvious preference for the present state of things, there -seemed little prospect of this. - -Apparently, then, the Khemistan authorities should have been pleased -when Wilayat Ali suddenly despatched his Vizier, Gobind Chand, to bear -his somewhat belated congratulations to Sir Henry Lennox on becoming a -K.C.B. To the more suspicious-minded it appeared, however, that the -Amir had heard rumours of the General’s approaching departure, and -wished to inquire as to their truth. This suspicion was confirmed when -Gobind Chand, after postponing his departure from Bab-us-Sahel on -endless pretexts connected with his own health and that of every -member of his suite, suddenly took a house at the port and announced -that he was going to learn English, and would remain until his studies -were completed. As this would at the lowest computation allow ample -time for Sir Henry to depart and his successor to arrive, the pretext -was a little too transparent, and it was politely intimated to Gobind -Chand that his own state must be in need of his valuable services, and -he was set on his homeward way. In advance went a message to Major -Keeling, ordering him to receive the distinguished traveller with all -due attention, but to see him over the frontier without delay, and -this caused a good deal of bustle and excitement at Alibad. - -In spite of the activity with which building operations had been -carried on, the gaol and the hospital were still the only edifices -actually completed, and as Major Keeling refused hotly even to -consider the possibility of receiving the envoy in the fort, it was -necessary to erect a large tent in the space which had been set apart -for public gardens, but which could not be laid out until the hot -weather was over. Gobind Chand and his retinue would encamp outside -the town for the night, be received by the Commandant in the morning, -and resume their homeward journey in the afternoon--this was the -programme. There were various ceremonies to be gone through, gifts had -to be presented and accepted, and provision was made for a private -interview between the two great men, to which only their respective -secretaries were to be admitted. But when the time came for the -interview, Gobind Chand surprised his host by requesting that even the -secretaries might be excluded; and for more than an hour the officers -of the Khemistan Horse kicked their heels in the anteroom, and gazed -resentfully at the contented immobility of the Vizier’s attendants -opposite them, wondering what secrets the old sinner could have to -tell the Chief. Their waiting-time came to an end suddenly. Raised -voices were heard in the inner room, Major Keeling’s storming in -Hindustani, Gobind Chand’s, shrill with fear, trying to urge some -consideration upon him. Then the heavy curtain over the doorway was -pulled aside with such force that it was torn from its fastenings, and -the cringing form of the Vizier appeared on the threshold, with hands -upraised in deprecation. He seemed to be in fear of a blow, but Major -Keeling, who towered over him, gripping the torn curtain fiercely, -made no attempt to proceed to personal chastisement. - -“Go!” he said, and the monosyllable came from his lips with the force -of an explosive. Gobind Chand’s attendants were on their feet in a -moment, and hurried their master out of the tent, Captain Porter, in -obedience to a gesture from the Commandant, following them to -superintend their departure. - -“Haigh!” said Major Keeling, and Sir Dugald detached himself from the -rest. “In my office--at once,” and he led the way, Sir Dugald -following. For a moment or two Major Keeling’s indignation seemed to -deprive him of speech, as he tramped up and down the little room; then -he turned suddenly on his subordinate. - -“What are you waiting there for? You will take twenty sowars and ride -to Nalapur with a letter for the Amir. Go and change your things,” -with a withering glance at Sir Dugald’s full-dress uniform, “and the -despatches will be ready when you are. Or before,” he added savagely. - -It was fortunate that Sir Dugald was a man of even temper, and had -some experience of his leader’s peculiarities, for Major Keeling’s -manner was unpleasant in the extreme. But as he was leaving the room -he was recalled-- - -“You must get a guide from Shah Nawaz. Ferrers has several Nalapuris -in his detachment. I will ride with you part of the way myself, and -post you in the state of affairs. Send Ross to me for orders.” - -The tone was quite different, and Sir Dugald had no longer reason to -fear that he might unwittingly have excited his Commandant’s -displeasure. He hastened to his quarters, sent a hurried message to -his wife, and reappeared in undress uniform before the letter was -finished, or the twenty horsemen, picked and duly equipped by Colin, -had ridden into the compound before Major Keeling’s quarters. Each man -carried, as was the rule on these expeditions, three days’ rations for -himself and fodder for his horse, with a skin of water. When Sir -Dugald had been summoned into the inner office to receive the letter, -Major Keeling’s black horse Miani was brought up, and presently the -little troop clattered out into the desert, the two Englishmen riding -ahead, out of earshot of the sowars. - -“Now!” said Major Keeling, when they had settled into the pace which -experience had shown was the best for a long march, “I suppose you -would like to hear what the row is about. I’m glad I kept my hands off -that fellow, though I don’t know how I managed it. He wanted me to -help him to murder his master and make himself Amir.” - -“And what inducement did he offer?” Sir Dugald’s frigid calm in asking -the question was intentional, for Major Keeling’s wrath was evidently -bubbling up again. - -“Half the contents of the treasury, whatever that might prove to be. -But is that all you think about? Do you mean to say you don’t see the -insult involved in the offer--the fellow’s opinion of us who wear the -British uniform? Good heavens! are you made of stone?” - -Sir Dugald smiled with some difficulty, for his face had grown tense. -“You are the only man who would say such things to me, Major Keeling, -and the only man I would allow to do it. With you I have no choice.” - -“No, no; I beg your pardon. That abominable coolness of yours--but I -shall be insulting you again if I don’t look out. But if you had sat -listening to that villain for an hour, while he depicted Nalapur as a -perfect hell on earth, and Wilayat Ali as a wholly suitable ruler for -it, and then at last brought things round to the point he had been -aiming at all along, but which I had never seen, you’d know something -of what I feel. Why, the fellow had the inconceivable impudence to say -that he thought I understood all the time what he was driving at, and -only held back so as to make certain that he put himself completely in -my power!” - -“But he could never have thought we should set a Hindu over a -Mohammedan state.” - -“What have we done in Kashmir?” - -“But Nalapur is outside our borders. We don’t claim any right to -interfere in their choice of a ruler.” - -“Whether we claim it or not, we have interfered already. It was before -your time, of course, just after that wretched expedition to Ethiopia, -where we ought never to have gone, but having gone, we should have -stayed. Nasr Ali was Amir then, and his behaviour throughout was most -correct, even when our fortunes were at the lowest. Unfortunately for -him, it was thought well that the General and he should meet, so that -he might be thanked for his loyalty, and a halt was made for the -purpose. Things went wrong from that moment. The General and his -escort were attacked by tribesmen in one of the passes, and when they -got through, with some loss, the news came that Nasr Ali was ill, and -not able to meet them. You know what Old Harry is, and how he was -likely to receive such a message after the impudence of the tribes; -and just as he was working himself up into a fine fury there came to -his camp in disguise these two scoundrels, Gobind Chand and Wilayat -Ali, the Amir’s brother. They made out that they had stolen away at -the risk of their lives to warn the General that Nasr Ali meant to -murder him and the whole escort. Sir Henry didn’t wait to inquire why -Nasr Ali should choose the time when a victorious army was within call -to assassinate its leader, for the fugitives’ news just fitted in with -his own suspicions. They gave him a sign by which he was to judge of -their good faith. Nasr Ali had promised to receive the mission at the -gate of the city the following day: if he did not appear, that would -be proof of his treachery. Sir Henry sent an order back to the army -for a brigade to be in readiness, and waited. Sure enough, before they -reached the city gate Wilayat Ali, in his own person this time, came -to meet them and say that his brother was too ill to come out, but -would receive them in the _killa_ [palace] if they would enter the -city. To Sir Henry, and all who remembered the Ethiopian business, it -was simply an invitation to come and be murdered; so he rode back to -camp, sent another messenger to order up the brigade, and passed a -horribly uncomfortable night, expecting to be attacked at every -moment. Much to his astonishment, he was not attacked, though bands of -Nalapuris were said to be circling round, hoping to catch him off his -guard, and then the brigade arrived after a forced march. Old Harry -allowed the men two or three hours’ rest, occupied the hills -overlooking the city in the night, and sent in a demand for its -surrender in the morning. Nasr Ali, posing, so the General thought, as -an injured innocent, protested against the whole thing as a piece of -the blackest treachery, carried out under the mask of friendship, and -refused to surrender. I don’t want to go into the whole sickening -business; the place was stormed, and Nasr Ali killed in the fighting. -Wilayat Ali opened the gates of the _killa_, and allowed the treasury -(there was remarkably little in it) to be looted. He was the natural -heir, for Nasr Ali’s women and children had all been massacred. Of -course Wilayat Ali gave us to understand that our troops had done it, -but that is absolutely untrue. The first man that broke into the -zenana found it looted, and dead bodies everywhere--a shocking sight. -I haven’t the slightest doubt that Wilayat Ali had admitted a set of -_badmashes_ to wipe out his unfortunate brother’s family, and intended -to charge it on us, but there’s no proving it. Well, he was placed on -the _gadi_ with Gobind Chand as his Vizier, and we marched home again. -Little by little things came out which made me think a horrible -miscarriage of justice had occurred, and when I laid them before Sir -Henry he had to believe it too. That Wilayat Ali deliberately traduced -and betrayed his brother in order to obtain his kingdom I am as -certain as that I am here, and now I have to interfere to save him -from being murdered by his fellow-scoundrel!” - -“There is no chance of putting things right,” said Sir Dugald, in the -tone of one stating a fact rather than asking a question. - -“None. If any of poor Nasr Ali’s children survived, we might do -something, but the fiends took good care of that. There were two boys, -certainly, and I believe some daughters as well, but they are beyond -reach of any atonement we can make. And since no good could come of -it, it would look rather bad for the paramount Power to have to -confess how easily it had been hoodwinked; so we let ill alone.” - -“Poetic justice would suggest that you should allow Gobind Chand to -murder Wilayat Ali, and to be murdered in his turn by the Sardars.” - -“And put young Hasrat Ali, Wilayat’s son, who by all accounts is a -regular chip of the old block, on the _gadi_? That wouldn’t better -things much, and would mean a nice crop of revolutions and tumults. -Nalapur is too close to our borders for that sort of thing. I don’t -say that I wouldn’t have welcomed poetic justice if it had had the -sense to take its course without consulting me; but as it is, I can’t -connive at the removal of an ally, even an unsatisfactory one. Your -business is to see the Amir as soon as you arrive, if bribes or -threats will do it, so as to forestall Gobind Chand; but don’t leave -without delivering the despatch into his hands, if you have to wait -for a week. Even if Gobind Chand succeeds in getting round him and -persuading him of his innocence, the warning will make him keep his -eyes wide open. And--I am not a particularly nervous man, but this is -a wicked world--see that your men mount guard properly day and night -while you are in Nalapur, and go the rounds yourself at irregular -intervals. Since you know something now of Wilayat Ali, I needn’t -remind you not to trust a word that he says. Well, I’ll turn back -here. Take care of yourself.” - -Sir Dugald saluted and rode on with his detachment, and Major Keeling, -putting spurs to his horse, galloped back to Alibad, still in the -gold-laced uniform and plumed helmet he had donned for his interview -with the Vizier. He had never many minutes to waste, and Gobind Chand -had robbed him of half a working day already, but he made time to -pause at the fort and send Lady Haigh a message that he had seen her -husband on his way. - -“As if that was any consolation!” cried Lady Haigh when she received -it. “If he had seen him coming back, now----! The way he keeps poor -Dugald running about all day and every day is really shameful. I do -believe”--with gloomy triumph--“that he picks him out for all the -dangerous and awkward bits of work on purpose. If anything happened to -any of the other men, their sweethearts or mothers or sisters might -reproach the Major, and so he sends Dugald, knowing that I have sworn -not to say a word, whatever happens.” - -Penelope smiled feebly. She was very long in recovering from her -attack of fever, and Lady Haigh was anxious about her, even throwing -out hints as to the possibility of emulating the despicable conduct of -the Punjab ladies, and taking a trip to the Hills or the sea. But -Penelope only shook her head, and said she should be better when the -cool weather came. No change of scene could alter the fact that she -had finally and deliberately taken upon herself the responsibility of -Ferrers and his failings, or relieve her from the haunting feeling -that henceforward there would be a blank in her life. What caused the -blank she had not courage to ask herself. People were not so fond of -analysing their sensations in those days as in these; it was enough to -be conscious of an ever-present sense of loss, to know that she had -put away from her something that it would have been a joy to possess. - -Three days passed without news of any kind, dreary days to the two -ladies, who devoted themselves, as in honour bound, to their -unsatisfactory pursuits, and only emerged from the fort for their -evening ride. The “gardens”--for the name which sounded ironical had -by general consent been adopted as prophetic--boasted a nondescript -erection of masonry which did duty as a band-stand; and here a band in -process of making struggled painfully through various easy exercises -and a mutilated edition of “God Save the Queen.” Lady Haigh and -Penelope always halted their _palkis_ dutifully in the neighbourhood -of the band, and stepped out to walk and talk a little with Major -Keeling and the other men. It was as necessary to appear here once -a-day as on the sea-drive at Bab-us-Sahel, and if Major Keeling was in -the town he never failed to show himself. Riding, fighting, building, -surveying, planting, exercising his men, administering his district, -he had ten men’s work in hand, and his only moment of leisure in the -whole day was this brief evening promenade. Lady Haigh told him once -that it was very good of him to devote it to social purposes. He -replied gravely that it was his duty, the least he could do--then -hesitated, and confessed that he did not dislike it, nay, that the -thought of it sometimes occurred to him pleasantly in the intervals of -his day’s labours, and Lady Haigh received the information with -suitable surprise and gratitude. - -When the watchman on the fort tower announced at last that Sir -Dugald’s detachment was in sight, Major Keeling broke up abruptly the -court he was holding, and rode out to meet him. As soon as details -could be discerned through the haze of sand, he assured himself that -the numbers were complete, and that no fighting had taken place; but -Sir Dugald’s face, as he met him, did not bear any look of triumph. - -“Well?” asked the older man sharply. - -“The Amir absolutely refused to receive me until the morning after we -arrived, and by that time Gobind Chand had turned up, of course. They -make out that Gobind Chand’s proposal to you was inspired by his -master, and intended to test your friendship.” - -“I hope they were satisfied that it had stood the test?” - -“Well, hardly. They said that if you were really friendly you would -hand over to them some fugitive called the Sheikh-ul-Jabal.” - -Major Keeling nodded his head slowly two or three times. “So that’s -it, is it? Rather a neat plan, if my righteous indignation hadn’t -knocked it on the head. But somehow I don’t fancy Wilayat Ali would -care to suggest to Gobind Chand the idea of murdering him. And yet, if -you got to Nalapur before Gobind Chand, how could he have managed to -delay the audience until he had put things right with the Amir? Of -course he may have anticipated my action, and left directions, but---- -Who was your guide, after all?” - -“Ferrers’ munshi, Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq.” - -“What!” Major Keeling smote his hand upon his knee. “That man, of all -men? The very last---- How in the world----?” - -“Is there any objection to him? Ferrers did not want to weaken his -garrison, for the outlaw Shir Hussein is in the neighbourhood again, -and he hopes to catch him. This man knows Nalapur well, and has -friends in the city. Ferrers trusts him implicitly--with all that he -has in the world, if you are to believe the Mirza himself.” - -“I can quite believe it. Well, no matter. I ought to have warned you. -No, I know nothing against the man; but why does he always keep out of -my way, if it isn’t that he’s afraid to meet me? And he has friends in -Nalapur, has he? Did he go to see them as soon as you arrived?” - -“Fairly soon after. I thought it as well to let him trot off, so that -he might bring us warning if there was any talk of attacking us.” - -“Quite so. But I hardly think he’d have done it. So they want the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal given up? I’ll see them hanged first!” - -“Is there anything peculiar about the man, Major,--any mystery----?” - -“None that I know of. Why?” - -“Both the Amir and Gobind Chand looked at me very hard when they made -the demand, almost as if they expected to stare me out of countenance. -And there was a sort of uneasiness about the whole interview, as if -either they knew more than I did, or suspected me of knowing more than -they did--I couldn’t make out which. And perhaps you didn’t notice, -sir, that when Gobind Chand met you first he gave a great start? I -noticed it, and so did Porter.” - -“No, I didn’t see it. That wretched mystery cropping up again, I -suppose! I wish I could get to the bottom of it. But there’s nothing -mysterious about the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. He was a great friend of our -unfortunate victim, Nasr Ali, who married his sister, and he managed -to escape into our territory, with a few followers, when the trouble -came. He had done us good service in the Ethiopian war, and Sir Henry, -whose conscience was pricking him pretty badly, was glad to promise -him protection, though Wilayat Ali has never ceased to press for his -being given up. He is a heretic of some sort, and the orthodox -Nalapuri Mullahs hate him like poison.” - -“A Sufi, I suppose?” said Sir Dugald. - -“No; he is the head of a sect of his own--the remnant of some -organisation which was very powerful at the time of the Crusades, I -believe. Even now he seems to have adherents all over Asia, and -several times he has given us valuable information. But Wilayat Ali -swears that he is perpetually intriguing against him, and so the -Government have rewarded him rather scurvily--forbidden him to quit -Khemistan. The poor man laid it so much to heart that he took a vow -never to leave his house again as long as the sun shone upon the -earth.” - -“Then he is a state prisoner somewhere? Is he down at the coast?” - -“No, he has furbished up a ruined fort which he found in the -mountains, and calls it Sheikhgarh. He has an allowance from us, and -he could range all over the province if he liked. It is only his vow -that prevents him, and, curiously enough, I have reason to know that -it’s not as alarming as it sounds.” - -“Why, have you ever seen him?” - -“I have, and I have not. I met him out in the desert one night--saw a -troop of men riding, and challenged them. When he heard who I was, he -came forward to explain that for a person of such sanctity it was easy -to dispense himself partially from his vow--so as to let him take his -rides abroad at night. He was muffled up to the eyes, and it was dark, -besides, so I can’t say I saw him, but I liked his voice. I told him -he need fear no molestation from me, that I considered both he and -Nasr Ali had been treated scandalously, and that I was on his side if -the Government troubled him any more.” - -Sir Dugald hid a smile. Major Keeling’s opinion of any government he -might happen to serve was never a matter of doubt, and no prudential -motives would be likely to induce him to keep it secret. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - EYE-WITNESS. - -Sir Henry Lennox had resigned his post, and the military despotism -in Khemistan proper was at an end. The Europeans at Alibad journeyed -in two detachments to the port on the river to bid farewell to the old -warrior, who was making his last triumphal progress amid the tears and -lamentations of the people to whom, according to his enemies and their -newspapers, his name was a signal for universal execration. The -General and his flotilla of steamers passed on, and Major Keeling -returned to Alibad, refusing to be comforted. The epoch of the soldier -was over, that of the civilian had begun, and, like his old commander, -he detested civilians as a class, without prejudice to certain -favoured individuals, with a furious hatred. Mr Crayne, the newly -appointed Commissioner, was not only a civilian but a man of such an -awkward temper that it was said his superiors and contemporaries at -Bombay had united to thrust the post upon him. It was not his by -seniority, but they would have been willing to see him made -Governor-General if it would remove him from their immediate -neighbourhood. In him Major Keeling perceived a foeman worthy of his -steel, and before the new ruler had fairly arrived in the province, -they were embarked upon a fierce paper warfare over almost every point -of Mr Crayne’s inaugural utterance. After a hard day’s work, it was a -positive refreshment to the soldier to sit down and compose a fiery -letter to his obnoxious superior; and since he was one of those to -whom experience brings little wisdom, he repeated with zest the old -mistake which had made him a by-word in official circles. More than -once in former years, when he thought he had made a specially good -point in a controversy of this kind, or forced his opponent into a -particularly untenable corner, he had sent the correspondence to the -Bombay papers, which were ready enough to print it, salving their -consciences by printing also scathing remarks on the sender. They gave -him no sympathy, and the military authorities sent him stinging -rebukes; but as if by a kind of fatality he did the same thing over -again as often as circumstances made it possible. His friends and -subordinates looked on with fear and trembling, and whispered that the -only reason he was still in the service was the fact that no one else -could keep the frontier quiet: his enemies chuckled while they -writhed, and said that the man was hard at work twisting the rope to -hang himself, and it must be long enough soon. - -It was unfortunate that Ferrers should have chosen this particular -time to ask for leave in order to pay a visit to his uncle. He was -heartily sick of the frontier, and the prospect of the Christmas -festivities at Bab-us-Sahel was very pleasant. Moreover, he was -anxious to bring himself to Mr Crayne’s remembrance. These months of -hard service in a detestable spot like Alibad ought to have quite -wiped out the memory of his past follies, and the uncle who had -refused a request for money with unkind remarks such as made his -nephew’s ears tingle still, might be willing to help him in other ways -now that he could do so without cost to himself. By dint of studiously -respectful and persistent letters congratulating Mr Crayne on his -appointment, Ferrers had succeeded in eliciting a sufficiently cordial -invitation to spend Christmas at Government House, provided he could -obtain leave. His uncle did not offer to pay his expenses; but for the -provision of the heavy cost of the journey he relied, in his usual -fashion, on the trustfulness of the regimental _shroff_--an elastic -term for an official whose functions included both banking and -money-lending. The obstacle came just where he had not expected it, -for Major Keeling refused to grant him leave. It was true that Ferrers -had already had the full leave to which he was entitled, and had spent -it in hunting, but a more prudent man than the Commandant might have -felt inclined to stretch a point, with the view of conciliating the -ruling power. Not so Major Keeling. If he had felt the slightest -inclination to grant Ferrers’ request, the fact that he was Mr -Crayne’s nephew would have kept him from doing so; but as it was, he -rated Ferrers severely for asking for leave at all when the freebooter -Shir Hussein was still at large in his district and foiling all -attempts to lay him by the heels. Exasperated alike by the refusal and -the rebuke, Ferrers rode back to Shah Nawaz in a towering passion, and -casting aside the restraint which he had hitherto maintained, gave -vent to his feelings by inveighing furiously against the Commandant in -the presence of Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq. The Mirza listened calmly, and -with something like amusement, saying little, but the few words he -uttered were calculated to inflame his employer’s rage rather than to -allay it. - -“Keeling has made up his mind to persecute me for being my uncle’s -nephew!” cried Ferrers at last. “I won’t stand it. I’ll appeal to the -Commissioner. He can’t refuse to take my side when he sees how I’m -treated.” - -“It may be he will remove you to another post, sahib,” suggested the -Mirza. - -“I only wish he would! I’d go like a shot.” - -“It may be that Kīlin Sahib wishes it also.” The suggestion was made -in a meditative tone, and Ferrers turned and looked at the Mirza. - -“What do you mean? Hasn’t he just refused to let me go?” - -“It is one thing to go for a while and return, and another to depart -permanently, sahib,” was the answer. - -“You mean that he hopes to make me throw up the frontier altogether? -What business has he to try and turn me out?” - -“Nay, sahib, it is not for me to say. But it may be he has no desire -that there should always be one near him who might carry tales to your -honour’s uncle.” - -“What tales could I carry? The man’s straight enough. He does himself -more harm by one of his own letters that I could do him in a year.” - -“Even if your honour told all that you know?” - -“Why, of course. What are you driving at, Mirza? I wish you wouldn’t -be so abominably mysterious.” - -“If Firoz Sahib knows nothing now that his honoured uncle would care -to hear, it may be he might learn something.” - -“There you go again! What is it? Do you know anything?” - -“Is it for the dust of the earth, the poor servant of Firoz Sahib, to -utter words against the great Kīlin Sahib, the lord of the border? -The lips of my lord’s slave are sealed.” - -“That they’re not. You’ve gone too far to draw back now. If you don’t -tell me what you mean, I’ll have it out of you one way or another.” - -“Nay, my lord will not so far forget himself as to utter threats to -his servant?” said the Mirza, in a silky tone which nevertheless -reminded Ferrers that his dependant could make things very unpleasant -for him if he liked. “As I have said, I may not bear testimony against -Kīlin Sahib; but who shall blame me if I enable my lord to see with -his own eyes the things of which I speak?” - -“By all means. Splendid idea!” said Ferrers, divided between the -desire of conciliating the Mirza and a certain reluctance to spy upon -the Commandant. But this quickly gave place to excitement. What could -he be going to discover? “When can you do this?” he asked. “And how -can you manage about me?” - -“If my lord will deign to put on once more, as often in the past, the -garments of the faithful, and will pledge himself to say nothing of -what he sees save what I may give him leave to reveal, I will lead him -this very night to a certain place where he shall see things that will -surprise him.” - -“Oh, all right!” said Ferrers, forgetting that he was putting himself -once more into the Mirza’s power. “The _daffadar_ must know we are -going out in disguise, in case of an alarm in the night, but he had -better think we are going to try and track Shir Hussein. You look -after the clothes, of course. Do we ride or walk?” - -“We will ride the first part of the way, sahib, and two ponies shall -be in readiness; but the place to which we go is a _pir_’s tomb in the -hills this side of the Akrab Pass, and there we must walk. But we -shall return to the ponies, and be here again by dawn.” - -The Mirza bowed himself out, and Ferrers whiled away the rest of the -day in vain speculations. Was he about to discover that Major Keeling -amused himself with such adventures as he and his friends at -Bab-us-Sahel had been wont to undertake? He thought not, for, though -born and partly brought up in India, the Major had always spoken with -contemptuous dislike of Europeans who aped the natives, or tried to -live a double life. Of course that might be only to throw his hearers -off the scent, but still--and Ferrers went over the ground again, with -the same result. He had not come to any decision as to what he was to -expect to see by the time the Mirza thought it was safe to start, and -he could get no satisfaction from him. He was to judge with his own -eyes, and not be prepared beforehand for what he was to be shown. - -It was a long ride over the desert, which shone faintly white in the -starlight. There was no wind, and the whirling sand which made -travelling so unpleasant in the daytime was momentarily still. The -distant cry of a wild animal was to be heard at times, but no human -beings seemed to be abroad save the two riders. It was different, -however, when they had reached the mountains, and, picketing the -ponies in a convenient hollow, began to climb a rocky path, for here -and there in front of them was to be seen a muffled figure. Once or -twice they passed or were overtaken by one of these, with whom the -Mirza exchanged a low-toned greeting, the words of which Ferrers could -not distinguish. Sooner than he expected they found themselves -entering a village of rough mud-huts, which had evidently grown up -around and under the protection of a larger building, a Moslem -sanctuary of some sort. This must be the tomb of the _pir_, or holy -man, of whom the Mirza had spoken, thought Ferrers; and he noticed -that muffled figures like those he had seen on the way up seemed to be -thronging into it. The place was built of rough mud-brick, but there -were rude traces of decoration about the walls, and some architectural -features in the form of a bulb-shaped dome and two rather squat -minarets. Ferrers and his guide joined the crowd at the entrance, and -were pressing into the building with them, when Ferrers felt the Mirza -grasp his arm, and impel him aside. They seemed to have turned into a -dark passage between two walls, while the rest of the crowd had gone -straight on, and a man with whom the Mirza spoke for a moment, and who -was apparently one of the keepers of the tomb, closed a door behind -them as soon as they had entered. Still guided by the Mirza, Ferrers -stumbled along the passage until a faint gleam of starlight through a -loop-hole showed him that there was a spiral staircase in front. The -steps were choked with sand and much decayed, but the two men made -shift to climb them, and came out at last on a fairly smooth mud -platform, which was evidently the roof of the tomb. The Mirza walked -noiselessly across it until he came to the dark mass which represented -the bulging dome, and Ferrers, following, found that rude steps had -been devised in the mouldering brickwork, so that it was possible to -mount to the top. Once there, a sudden rush of oil-fumes and mingled -odours reached him, and he would have coughed but for the Mirza’s -imperative whisper ordering silence. Following his guide’s example, he -lay down on the slope of the dome, supporting himself by gripping with -his fingers the edge of the brickwork, over which he looked. He had -noticed that although from the ground the top of the dome appeared -roughly spherical, it was in reality flattened, and now he found that -this flat effect was caused by the absence of the concluding courses -of brickwork, which would answer to a key-stone, so that a round hole -was left for the admission of light and air. They could thus look -right down into the building, upon the actual tomb, marked by an -oblong slab of rough stone, immediately below them, and upon the men -whom they had seen entering, now seated on the floor in reverential, -expectant silence. The place was lighted by a number of smoking -oil-lamps, which revealed the rude arabesques in blue and crimson -decorating the walls, and brought out a gleam of shining turquoise and -white higher up, where were the remains of a frieze of glazed tiles, -and which were also accountable for the fumes which obliged Ferrers to -turn his head away every now and then for a breath of fresh air. - -After one of these interruptions, he became aware that a service of -some kind had begun. A voice was droning out what sounded like a -liturgy, and the congregation were kneeling with their foreheads to -the floor, and performing the proper genuflexions at suitable -intervals. Presently the Mirza grasped his arm again, and directed his -attention to the officiating reader. Ferrers could only discern him -dimly, and saw him, moreover, from behind; but presently it began to -dawn upon him that the figure was in some way familiar. The man was -very tall, and, for an Oriental, of an extraordinarily powerful build. -His flowing robes were of purest white, but his girdle was scarlet; -and round a pointed cap of bright steel, in shape like the fighting -headgear of the Khemistan Horse, he wore a scarlet turban. After a -time he had occasion to turn round, and Ferrers, with a thrill for -which he could not at first account, saw his face. Again there was -that impression of familiarity. The thick black hair, the bushy beard, -the strongly marked features, the keen eyes--Ferrers knew them all; -and when he realised what this meant, he was only prevented by the -Mirza’s arm from slipping off the dome. To find Major Keeling reading -Arabic prayers in a Mohammedan place of worship was a shock for which -nothing he had hitherto seen had prepared him. - -Presently the service came to an end, and the reader disappeared from -view. From the movements of the audience, it seemed that they were -grouping themselves round him at one end of the building; and, at the -Mirza’s suggestion, Ferrers slipped and shuffled round the dome until -he reached a point opposite to his former position. Here he could -again obtain a glimpse of the white and scarlet figure, seated now in -a niche in the end wall, with the congregation sitting before him like -disciples in the presence of a teacher. What followed was more or less -of a mystery to Ferrers, for it was difficult to see clearly, and -almost impossible to hear. All spoke in low voices, and the mingled -sounds rose confusedly to the opening in the dome. But it seemed -evident that reports of some kind were given in by certain of the -audience, whose attire showed them to belong to various tribes, or -even to different regions of Central Asia; that orders were issued, -and small strips torn from the teacher’s white robe blessed and -distributed among those present. All this was highly interesting; but -from what followed, Ferrers, whose religious sense was by no means -keen, drew back revolted. To see his Commandant breathing on the eager -hearers who crowded round him as he rose, or laying his hands on their -heads, according as they entreated a blessing or the favour of his -holy breath, was bad enough. But there were some who suffered from -bodily ailments, and the teacher must needs lay his hand upon the spot -affected and mutter a prayer; and for those who had sick friends at -home he must write charms on scraps of paper and mutter incantations -over them. Then, just as he was about to leave the place, a very old -man pushed forward and grasped his robe. - -“O my lord!” he cried, and his high quavering voice reached Ferrers -clearly, “strengthen the faith of thy servant. Months ago I disobeyed -thy commands, and sought a sign from thee in the daytime and in the -presence of the ignorant and the infidel. Thou didst pour scorn upon -me, such as I well deserved, but pardon me now. All those that are -here have seen thy power, save only thy servant. Only a little sign, O -my lord--to behold fire breathed from thy lips, or a light shining -round thee----” - -The teacher held up his hand for silence, and answered in the same low -voice as before. Though Ferrers strained his ears, he could not hear -what was said, but the Mirza was at his side. - -“The Sheikh says that he will show the faithful a new miracle,” he -whispered. “Many of them have seen him breathe fire, but now a sweet -odour, as of roses, shall suddenly encompass him, that they may know -the worth of his prayers.” - -“The odour of sanctity!” chuckled Ferrers, in mingled amusement and -disgust; and presently, rather to his astonishment, a faint but -distinct perfume of attar of roses made itself felt among the -oil-fumes which rose through the opening. To the crowd below the scent -must have been much more evident, and their expressions of joy and -wonder broke out loudly. The old man who had asked for a miracle flung -himself down in transports of delight, and kissed the ground before -the Sheikh’s feet, and there were urgent entreaties to be led forth at -once against the enemy, which were promptly refused. When the teacher -had disappeared from view, the Mirza touched Ferrers’ arm, and they -scrambled down the dome and crept to the side of the roof, where, -sheltered by the minaret, they looked over the edge. The red and white -of the Sheikh’s dress were clearly discernible, but it was not easy to -see what was going on among his supporters. As Ferrers’ eyes became -accustomed to the darkness, however, he perceived that a shallow grave -had been dug, and that a coffin was ready to be committed to it. He -looked round at the Mirza with horror. Were these men about to dispose -of the body of some member of their mysterious association who had -been false to his vows, and suffered for it? But the Mirza’s whisper -was reassuring-- - -“It is the body of a man of Gamara, who died here yesterday. The -Sheikh will utter spells which will preserve it from decay, that when -the friends are about to return home they may take up the body and -bury it in the burial-place of his fathers in his own land.” - -The Sheikh’s incantations were lengthy, and before they were over the -Mirza and Ferrers descended the staircase again. As they passed the -loophole at its foot, the Mirza directed Ferrers’ attention to a -brazier filled with glowing charcoal which stood in a recess in the -opposite wall. - -“The Sheikh had smeared the wooden walls of the niche in which he sat -with attar of roses before the service began, and placed this brazier -here,” he said. “He knew that as the heat penetrated through the wall, -the perfume would make itself felt.” - -“Wily beggar! he leaves nothing to chance,” said Ferrers, and stopped -suddenly with sick disgust. The successful charlatan of whom he spoke -was a British officer, a man whose hand he had grasped in friendship. - -They groped along the passage, and slipped out noiselessly by the door -into the crowd of disciples. When the funeral was over the Sheikh bade -farewell to his followers, and mounted a black horse which had been -brought forward in readiness. Ferrers restrained himself with -difficulty from whistling to the horse. - -“If it was Miani, he might know my whistle,” he said to himself; “but -I can’t believe Keeling would use him on such a business as this.” - -The Sheikh rode off alone, and the assembly melted away quickly. -Ferrers and the Mirza picked their way down the path in silence, found -their ponies, and said nothing until they were at a safe distance from -the hills. Then Ferrers turned to his companion. - -“What does it mean?” he said. - -“He that you have seen is the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, sahib. Whether he is -also any one else is for you to say.” - -“But is it possible that the man can be a British officer all day and -a Mohammedan fanatic at night? Who is the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, by the -way--not the old joker who lives in the hills to the west?” - -“The same, sahib.” - -“But what is he driving at? Who is he going to war with?” - -“It is not for me to say, sahib; but it may be that he designs to -conquer the nations even as far as Gamara.” - -Ferrers reflected. To Major Keeling, as to many British officers at -the time, the name of Gamara was like a red rag to a bull, and it was -one of their favourite dreams that one day a British Indian army would -sweep the accursed spot from the face of the earth. It was not -inherently impossible that, despairing of seeing the dream ever -fulfilled by constituted authority, Major Keeling should proceed to -make it a reality by methods of his own. But the means--the mummery, -trickery, dissimulation that were necessary,--how could he stoop to -them, and yet pose as an honourable man? - -“Have you ever spied there before?” asked Ferrers of the Mirza. - -“Often, sahib.” - -“And what have you seen at other times?” - -“Always the same sort of things, sahib--plannings and pretended -miracles. But I can show you more than this in another place, only it -may not be yet for a time.” - -“Let it be as soon as possible.” Ferrers rode on silently. It did not -occur to him to inquire what had suggested to the Mirza the idea of -spying on Major Keeling, or what result he hoped to gain from it. He -scarcely heard Fazl-ul-Hacq’s voice adjuring him not to breathe a -syllable about what he had seen until he gave him leave, for he was -asking himself a question. Next week he must go into Alibad for -Christmas, and meet Major Keeling at every turn. How could he treat -him as if he knew nothing of his proceedings? - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - SEEING AND BELIEVING. - -When Ferrers rode into Alibad next week, to spend his Christmas -there, his excitement had died down. He had not received the -additional evidence against Major Keeling which the Mirza had promised -him, and he understood that he must be content to wait for it. But he -had schooled himself into quietness since that eventful night by dint -of dwelling chiefly on the ridiculous side of what he had seen, and -found the recollection rather amusing than otherwise. He felt that he -could meet the delinquent without any inconvenient display of wrath, -and was prepared to enjoy to the full such Christmas festivities as -the resources of the station might provide. He wondered, with -something very like mirth, on what sort of footing he would find -himself with Penelope this time. Hitherto it had seemed as if he could -not remain in the same mind about her for two days together. But -surely it must be her fault, if she could not keep him faithful. No -doubt if he found her looking well and bright, more especially if the -other men seemed inclined to pay court to her, his suspended affection -would revive; but if she looked pale, and was too dull for any one to -care to talk to her, it was not likely he would wish to seek her out. -If she was no longer interesting, how could he possibly be interested -in her, and was he to blame that this was the case? - -Thoughts of this kind were vaguely forming themselves in his mind as -he rode, when a cloud of dust in front announced the approach of -another horseman, and presently resolved itself into Colin, his face -wearing a determined expression which told that, as his Covenanting -forefathers would have said, something was “laid upon his mind.” -Ferrers wondered what was the matter, but Colin said nothing until he -had turned his horse and they were riding side by side. Then he -inquired with startling suddenness-- - -“Are you still in the same mind about Penelope as when we last talked -about her?” - -“Why, Colin, have you come out to ask me my intentions?” asked -Ferrers, much amused. - -“I’m not joking. If you feel as you did when you sent her that message -by me, I think the time is come to announce it openly. Do you feel -inclined to speak to her yourself on the subject?” - -Ferrers shrugged his shoulders, and yielded, in his usual fashion, to -the influence of the moment. “I should be delighted, but how is it to -be managed? Lady Haigh watches over her like a dragon when I am -there.” - -“I will undertake Lady Haigh if you will seize your opportunity. -Penelope is unhappy in her present anomalous position, I am certain. -She distinctly gave me the impression that she had thought you unkind -and neglectful. Of course I defended you as best I could, but you -should have been there to speak for yourself.” - -“But I thought it was Penelope’s own wish that I should keep my -distance?” - -“So I thought,” was the troubled answer; “but now I think it might -have been better if you had not held aloof quite so much. I may have -mistaken her--I was so anxious to bring you together again that I -would have agreed to almost any terms.” Ferrers laughed involuntarily, -but Colin’s forehead was puckered with anxiety. “Perhaps you should -have refused to take her at her word----” - -“Or at your word,” suggested Ferrers. - -“Well, perhaps if you had been more eager, refused to be kept at a -distance in this way, she might have liked it better. Women seem to -find some moral support in an engagement, somehow----” - -“What a young Solon you are, Colin! Well, give me a lead at the right -moment, and I’ll play up to it. So poor little Pen is miserable, is -she?” - -“She is not happy, and she won’t talk about you. She must think you -have treated her badly--don’t you agree with me? I daresay she has the -idea that I might have helped her more. I hope it will be all right -now, and that I am not wrong in----” - -“Oh, look here, Colin, don’t trot out that conscience of yours,” said -Ferrers, with rough good-nature. “We’re going to put things right, at -any rate, and you can’t quarrel with what you’ve done yourself,” and -Colin consented to leave the subject. He was honestly anxious to do -what was best for his sister, with an unconscious mental reservation -in favour of what he thought was best; and the barrier which the last -few months had raised between Penelope and himself was a real grief to -him. Penelope had learnt to carry her burden alone. Colin could not -understand why it should be a burden at all, and she could not confide -in Lady Haigh without seeming to accuse Colin. Her sole comfort -hitherto had been that Ferrers made no attempt to enforce what she -regarded as his threats in the message sent by Colin, and she looked -forward to Christmas-week with absolute dread. She hoped desperately -that he might still hold aloof; but this hope was destined to be -shattered as soon as he reached Alibad. - -Colin brought him up immediately to pay his respects to Lady Haigh, -who still held her court in the fort, for at the very beginning of the -rains one of the newly built houses had subsided by slow degrees into -its original mud, and Major Keeling would not allow the ladies to move -until the others had been tested and strengthened. Lady Haigh’s policy -was unchanged, it was evident. She kept the conversation general, and -made it clear that she would remain on guard over Penelope until -Ferrers was safely off the premises. But Colin had come prepared to -throw himself heroically into the breach. - -“I think Captain Ferrers and my sister have something to say to each -other,” he said, and offered his arm to Lady Haigh with formal -courtesy. “Perhaps you would not mind showing me the view from the -ramparts again?” - -No one was more astonished than Lady Haigh herself at her compliance -with the invitation; but, as she said later, when she was politely -handed out of her own drawing-room, what could she do but go? The one -glimpse she had of Penelope reassured her. The girl’s colour had -risen, and it was evident she resented her brother’s action, and was -not inclined to accept his ruling tamely. For the moment Ferrers was -the more embarrassed of the two. He fidgeted from one chair to -another, and then took up a book on the table near Penelope and played -with it, not noticing the start with which she half rose to rescue it -from his hands. It was a battered copy of Scott’s Poems, the pages -everywhere decorated with underlining and marginal notes. - -“Why, I believe you have got hold of the Chief’s beloved Scott!” he -cried. “He might have found a respectable copy to lend you.” - -“I should not have cared for that,” she replied. “It is his notes that -interest me.” - -“Oh, you find the Chief an object of interest?” Ferrers looked up -sharply. “Do you see much of him?” - -“He comes in fairly often.” Penelope’s tone was curiously repressed. -“I think he likes to talk to--us.” - -“And what may you and he find to talk about?” - -“The province, chiefly. Sometimes the battles he has been in.” - -Ferrers laughed forbearingly. There was little need to fear a rival in -a man who could see a girl constantly for six months, and still talk -to her on military and civil themes at the end of the time. “And you -find that enlivening?” he asked. “Well, there’s no harm in it, but I -wouldn’t advise you to become too confidential with him. He’s not the -man you think him.” - -“I did not know I had asked your advice on the subject,” said Penelope -coldly. - -“Oh, didn’t you? but you see I have a right to give it; and I tell you -plainly I don’t wish you to make an intimate friend of Keeling.” - -“Even supposing that you had such a right, I should never think of -bowing to it unless I knew your reasons.” - -“Do you really wish me to give them? I thought you might prefer to go -on believing in your friend.” - -“I wish to hear the worst you can say of him, and I shall go on -believing in him just the same.” - -“Will you? I think not. What would you say if I told you I had seen -him, a week ago last night, playing _imam_ at a _pir_’s tomb out near -the Akrab--reciting prayers, writing charms, pretending to work -miracles, and all the rest of it?” - -“A week ago last night?” said Penelope faintly. Then she pulled -herself together. “I should say you had been mistaken.” - -“Mistaken? Am I not to believe the witness of my own eyes?” - -“I would not believe the witness of my own eyes in such a case.” - -Ferrers wondered at the decision with which she spoke, not knowing -what was in her mind. On the night he mentioned, she had remembered, -while lying awake, that she had left the book she was reading--one of -Sir Dugald’s--on the ramparts. Fearing it would be spoilt by the dew, -she roused her ayah and told her to go and fetch it, but the woman -whimpered that she was afraid--there were always ghosts in these old -forts--and hung back even when Penelope said she would come too. They -reached the rampart safely, however, the clear starlight making a lamp -unnecessary, and rescued the book. As they turned to descend the steps -again, the pad of a horse’s feet upon the sand reached their ears, and -looking over the parapet, they saw Major Keeling ride past on Miani. -There was no possibility of mistake, and Penelope had never dreamt of -imagining that the rider in undress uniform and curtained forage-cap -could be any one but the Commandant. He was bound on one of his -restless wanderings over the desert, and her heart sent forth a silent -entreaty to him to be prudent. But now, as she said, she was willing -to disbelieve the evidence of her own eyes if it gave support to this -story of Ferrers’. - -“I suppose you think I am a liar?” he demanded resentfully. - -“I think you have either made a mistake or been deceived. Do you -believe it yourself? What are you going to do.” - -Ferrers was nonplussed. He had disobeyed the Mirza’s injunction, and -spoken without waiting for the further evidence promised him. He might -have put himself into a very awkward position if Penelope should tell -any one of what he had said, and he decided to temporise. - -“Of course I should never think of saying anything about it. As you -say, it’s a case in which one can’t take seeing as believing. You -won’t say anything about it, of course?” - -“Is it likely?” demanded Penelope indignantly. Ferrers surveyed her -with growing interest, and became suddenly sorry for himself. - -“You flare up if any one says a word against the Chief, and yet you -believed a whole string of accusations against me, simply on Lady -Haigh’s word,” he said. - -“I thought you acknowledged they were true? At any rate, you did not -value my opinion of you sufficiently to take a single step to justify -yourself.” - -“What was the good? You were prejudiced against me. If you had cared -for me enough to give me a chance, it would have been different, but I -saw you didn’t, so I set you free.” - -“And bound me again the next morning.” - -“I had seen you by that time, and I couldn’t let you go. But what sort -of life have you led me since--keeping me at arm’s-length all these -months? Surely you might have been a little kinder----” Ferrers -stopped abruptly, for there was something like scorn in Penelope’s -eyes. “The fact is, you don’t care a scrap for me,” he broke out -angrily. - -“Why should I?” asked Penelope. - -For the moment he was too much astonished to answer, and she spoke -again, quietly, but with an under-current of indignation which drove -her charges home. “Why should I care for you, when you have never -shown the slightest consideration for me? Have you ever thought what a -position I should have been in, but for Lady Haigh’s kindness, when I -landed at Bab-us-Sahel? No, I know it was not your fault that the -letters miscarried; but you know you had no wish to see me when you -heard I had arrived. You were glad--glad--to be rid of the bond, and -so was I. And then you got Colin on your side--why, I don’t know--and -made him persuade me to renew my promise, because it would be a help -and comfort to you, and you could work better if you saw me now and -then. You have never been near me if you could possibly help it, and -for all the help and comfort I have been to you I might as well have -been at home. You may say I don’t care for you if you like, but I know -very well that you don’t care for me.” - -“But I do!” cried Ferrers involuntarily. “On my honour, Pen, I never -knew what there was in you before. You are the girl for me. I always -felt you could keep me straight, but it never struck me till now how -sharply you could pull a fellow up.” - -“You seem not to understand that I don’t want the task. I wish you to -give me back my promise.” - -“I won’t, then. Come, Pen, we shall have a week together now, and I’ll -show you I do care for you. Let’s forget all that’s gone by, and begin -again. I have fallen in love with you this moment--yes, by Jove! I -have”--he spoke with pleased surprise--“and we’ll be as happy as the -day is long.” - -“You don’t seem to see----” began Penelope, in a scared tone. - -“Oh well, if you are going to bear malice----” he spoke huffily. “I -hadn’t thought it of you. Why shouldn’t you let bygones be bygones, as -I do? Of course I haven’t been exactly what you might call attentive, -but I’m going to begin fresh, as I said, and you needn’t think I’m -going to let you go. My uncle will get me a post in Lower Khemistan, -in a nice lively station, with plenty going on; and I’ll cut the -Mirza, and you shall have a jolly big bungalow, and horses and -carriages, and get your dresses out from home. When shall we be -married?” - -Penelope’s eyes gathered a look almost of terror as she listened in -mingled perplexity and alarm. “I don’t want to marry you,” she said, -forcing her lips to utter the words. - -“Then you must want to marry some one else. Who is it?” - -For a moment she hesitated. Could she, did she dare, confess to him -the secret which she had only lately acknowledged even to -herself--that she had given her heart unasked to the keen-eyed swarthy -man who never talked to her of anything but war and work? To some men -it would have been possible to confide even this, but she felt, -rightly or wrongly, that with Ferrers it was not possible. She could -never feel sure that he would not in time to come fling her sorrowful -confession in her face, and use it to taunt her. She answered him with -desperate hopelessness, and, as she told herself, with perfect truth. -She had never had any thought of marrying Major Keeling. It would be -enough for her if their present friendship continued to the end of -their lives, or so she believed. - -“There is no one,” she said. “Can’t you understand that--that----” - -“That you don’t want to marry me?” cried Ferrers, laughing, his -good-humour quite restored. “No, Pen, I can’t. You’re feeling a little -sore now, because you think I’ve neglected you, but you shan’t -complain of that in future. I shall make furious love to you all this -week, and before I go back to that wretched hole we’ll announce the -engagement.” - -He was so gay, so well satisfied with himself, so utterly incapable of -understanding what she felt, that Penelope’s heart sank. She made a -final effort. “Please listen to me,” she faltered. “I ask you -definitely to release me from my promise.” - -“And I definitely refuse to do anything of the kind. There! is honour -satisfied now? You’ve made a brave fight--enough to please even Lady -Haigh, I should think--but it’s no good. The fortress has surrendered. -I’ll allow you the honours of war, but you mustn’t think you are going -to escape scot-free. Come!” - -She allowed him passively to kiss her, and then sat down again at the -table, utterly exhausted. “Please go away now,” she said. “I will tell -Lady Haigh of--what you wish, and no doubt she will arrange for you to -come here when you like. I will try--to be a good wife to you.” - -“You’d better!” said Ferrers gaily, as he departed. He was conscious -of a new and wholly unaccustomed glow of feeling--a highly creditable -feeling, too. He was actually in love, and with the very person who -would make him the best and most suitable wife he could choose. He had -not the slightest faith in the seriousness of Penelope’s resistance, -and felt genuinely proud of having overcome what he regarded as her -grudge against him. If she had only shown herself capable of -indignation and resentment earlier, he would have fallen in love with -her long ago. As it was, she might make their engagement as lively as -she pleased, and then settle down into an adoring fondness like -Colin’s, which would suit him admirably. Meeting Colin, he told him -the good news, adding that they had decided not to announce the -engagement for a week, as Penelope was still rather sore about their -past misunderstandings, and Colin hurried back to the fort, to find -Penelope with her head bowed on her arms on the table. - -“Why, Pen!” he said in astonishment, “I hoped I should find you so -happy.” - -Penelope raised her head, and looked at him despairingly. “Oh, Colin!” -was all she said. It seemed incredible to her that, after the long -years in which they had been all in all to each other, he could be as -blind as Ferrers to her real feelings. - -“But, Pen, is it right to imagine slights in this way? I know he may -have seemed cold, but he thought it his duty to hold aloof. And he has -worked so hard and so steadily at Shah Nawaz, looking forward to the -time when he might speak to you again. I am sure the thought of you -has helped him; I know it. And now you turn against him, when he needs -your help as much as ever.” - -“I can’t help any one, I am too weak,” moaned Penelope. “I want some -one strong, who can help me.” - -“A strong man would not need your help,” said Colin, in the slightly -didactic tone with which he was wont, all unconsciously, to chill his -sister’s feelings. Her heart protested wildly. She could help the -strong man of whom she was thinking, she knew, but the opportunity was -denied her. “George does need you,” Colin went on, “and will you -refuse to help him because he has wounded your self-love?” - -“You don’t understand. We should never be happy.” - -“One must not think too much of happiness in this world--only of what -one can do for others.” - -“I know that, but still---- Colin, do you mean to tell me that if you -were married you wouldn’t want your wife to be happy?” - -“That is different,” said Colin, flushing. “If she was not, I should -fear it was my fault; but what has George done that you should not be -happy with him? He is a splendid fellow--his good temper and rough -kindness often make me ashamed of myself. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” - -“I suppose not, if he thought about it,” said Penelope doubtfully. -“But oh, Colin, he doesn’t know when he hurts. You think only of him, -and he thinks only of himself, and no one thinks of me--except Elma. -I wish I had listened to her all along!” - -“If you are determined to be so uncharitable,” said Colin gravely, -“you had better break your promise, and send Ferrers about his -business. I could not advise you to do such a thing, but I quite allow -that my conscience is not a law for yours. I see no prospect of -happiness for you, certainly, while you are in your present frame of -mind. I think you have met with too much attention since you came to -India, Pen, and it has warped your judgment. But, as I said, don’t let -my opinion influence you.” - -He stood before her in his unbending rectitude, rigid and sorrowful, -and Penelope gave way. She could not add alienation from Colin to her -other troubles, and how could she tell him that in addition to her -personal distaste for Ferrers there was against him the insuperable -bar that he was the wrong man? - -“I can’t but be influenced by your opinion, Colin,” she said. “And I -never meant to say all this. Don’t let us refer to it again, please; I -shall not break my promise.” - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - COUNSEL FOR THE PROSECUTION. - -Ferrers was very well pleased with himself. He had done his duty, -which had turned out, in a most unwonted manner, to be also his -pleasure, and he felt justly entitled to enjoy his Christmas holiday -to the full. It amused him immensely to see Lady Haigh forced to -countenance his constant presence at the fort, and his attendance on -Penelope whenever she went out. On learning the state of affairs, Sir -Dugald had absolutely and categorically forbidden his wife to do -anything that might lead to a second rupture of the engagement. Once -was enough, he said grimly; and, fume as she might, Lady Haigh judged -it well to obey. It could not be expected that the fact should improve -her temper, but Ferrers was in too complacent a state of mind to be -affected by her sharp speeches. He did not even fear that she would -succeed in prejudicing Penelope against him a second time, guessing -shrewdly that after one irrepressible outburst of disgust, she would -prefer to maintain silence on the subject, and in this he judged -correctly. Penelope’s anxious endeavours to do as he wished flattered -him pleasantly, and he reciprocated her efforts with a kindness which -had something of condescension in it. “Feeble as they are,” it seemed -to say, “you want to please me, and I will be pleased,” and Penelope -was too much broken in spirit to resent his attitude. She was not -altogether unhappy. Even in Khemistan there were at this season bright -bracing days, when a gallop over the desert could not but be a joy, -even though an unwelcome lover and an uncomprehending brother were -riding on either side of her. If at night she dedicated a few tears to -the memory of that vain dream of hers, it was only because it returned -to her in spite of her strenuous efforts to bury it. There was a kind -of restfulness in feeling that her fate was fixed without reference to -her own desires, and she was fervently anxious to be loyal to the two -young men who were both so willing for her to be absolutely happy in -their way. - -In his abounding self-satisfaction Ferrers thought less of Major -Keeling’s delinquencies than before, and as the days passed on without -any fresh instance of them, became inclined to let the matter drop. If -the poor beggar found any fun in dressing up as a native and -pretending to work miracles, why in the world shouldn’t he? It would -not affect Ferrers when he got transferred to another district, and -this might happen at any moment. Keeling must be a perfect fool to -have spent his time in Penelope’s society to such little purpose, and -might really be left to his folly. But in coming to this conclusion -Ferrers was reckoning without the Mirza, whom he had not brought with -him to Alibad. After what had passed, he could quite understand the -man’s desire to keep out of Major Keeling’s sight, and he accepted the -responsibility of turning aside any questions that might be asked -about him. But on the last evening of his stay, when he was in his -room at Colin Ross’s quarters, whistling gaily as he tried on the -emerald ring with which he intended to clinch his formal engagement to -Penelope on the morrow, a low tapping reached his ears from the back -verandah, and it flashed upon him at once that the Mirza was there. -With a muttered curse on the man for disturbing him, he put away the -ring and went out softly, to find his follower standing in deep shadow -by a pillar. - -“_Salaam_, sahib!” was the Mirza’s breathless greeting. “Now is the -moment of which I spoke to you. I have watched and spied around -Sheikhgarh night after night, until at last I can show you the full -measure of Kīlin Sahib’s treachery.” - -“Oh, hang it all! I don’t want to go pottering about the desert -to-night,” said Ferrers angrily. “Why can’t you tell me what you’ve -found out?” - -“Nay, sahib, it is for you to see it with your own eyes. So far it is -only the sahibs who will turn their backs on the man. After to-night, -the Memsahibs also will draw away their garments from touching him.” - -The idea sounded promising. It would be good policy to be able to -prove to Penelope the reasonableness of the warning he had given her, -and which she had scouted, and he beckoned the Mirza in. - -“You have brought my disguise, I suppose?” he said. - -“Yes, sahib, and I have the ponies waiting outside the town. The moon -will not ride till late, so that we may hope not to run across Kīlin -Sahib on his way to Sheikhgarh.” - -“Defend me from ever leading a double life! It’s too much trouble,” -said Ferrers, with a yawn, for he was sleepy. What an immense amount -of riding Major Keeling must get through night after night, if he went -first westwards to Sheikhgarh and then eastwards to the Akrab! And how -in the world did he manage to cram so much activity into the daytime? -He must be able to do almost without sleep. It was really a pity such -a fine soldier and ingenious plotter should be such a rascal! “Why -don’t you go into partnership with Keeling Sahib, Mirza, instead of -showing him up?” he asked. “You two might rule Asia, he as Padishah -and you as Vizier.” - -“Am I a dog, to work with perjured men and those false to their salt?” -snarled the Mirza. Ferrers laughed unkindly. - -“Oh, don’t try to come the righteous indignation dodge over me: I know -you a little too well for that. Now just touch up my face a bit. If -there’s a moon, it’ll be harder for me to pass muster if we meet any -one than it was by starlight.” - -The toilet completed, they slipped out, and, by dint of traversing -unsavoury alleys and skulking close under walls, managed to evade -various sentries and reach the desert unchallenged. The Mirza made -straight for the spot where he had picketed the ponies, and directed -their course rather to the south of the hill which commanded the town -on the west. The route on this occasion did not lead through the open -desert, but up and down hill-paths and dry nullahs, and Ferrers -wondered where they would find themselves at last. When they reached a -kind of cave in which the Mirza remarked that they must leave the -ponies, they were in a part of the hills with which he was totally -unacquainted, so far as he could tell in the darkness. The Mirza -seemed to know the way well, however; and warning him that the -slightest noise would be dangerous, as the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s servants -kept the neighbourhood closely patrolled, led him up what seemed a -goat-track in the rocks. He would not allow any loitering for rest, -saying that the moon would soon rise, and they must be in shelter -first, and by dint of great exertions they reached their goal in time. -It was a kind of ledge or shelf on the side of the cliff, overlooking -what seemed to be a pile of huge rocks below; but as the moon rose, -Ferrers perceived that the apparently shapeless masses were the rude -towers and buildings of a hill-fort. The site had been well chosen, -for, with the short range of the native matchlocks, it could not be -commanded from any of the surrounding hills. From his position Ferrers -could see between two of the towers down into the courtyard, and he -was startled to perceive a black horse standing saddled in front of -the building which represented the keep or chief apartments of the -place. The horse was held by a servant, and presently another servant -appeared with a torch, and a third brought a bag of food and a skin of -water, and fastened them to the saddle. Then, as Ferrers watched, -there appeared on the threshold the majestic figure in white and -scarlet which he had last seen at the _pir_’s tomb. The Sheikh turned -for a moment, apparently to give directions to several women, the -flutter of whose robes could be seen by the torchlight, and then came -out upon the steps, followed by three children, two boys and a girl, -whose ages might run from ten to twelve. All three kissed the Sheikh’s -hand, the boys holding his stirrup while he mounted, and he gave them -his blessing as he rode away. In the clear mountain air the opening of -the gate in the entrance-tower was plainly audible, and presently a -gleam of white and scarlet and steel beyond the fort showed that the -Sheikh was riding down the path. Ferrers stood up, in a state of anger -which surprised himself. - -“What does it mean?” he demanded. “Who are those children?” - -“It is for you to say, sahib. As for me, I have no doubt. They are the -children of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal.” - -“Which means that Keeling is married to a native woman, and they are -his children,” said Ferrers. “Is it conceivable that a man can be such -a traitor? False to his country and his race! I say, Mirza, let us go -after him and put an end to his treachery.” - -But the Mirza held him back. “Nay, sahib, it must not be. Has it not -often been told me that the way of the English is to do all things -slowly and according to forms of law? You know how the traitor can be -punished after the English manner; then do not act as would one of the -hill-people, which can only harm yourself.” - -Ferrers saw the force of the reasoning, and followed his guide slowly -down the dangerous path. His mind was in a whirl. Marriages between -Englishmen and native women were far more common in those days than in -these, but Major Keeling was the last man he would have expected to -contract one. This, then, was the explanation of his insensibility -with regard to Penelope! But he had sat beside her, talked to her, -touched her hand, behaved like an honourable man who was free to seek -her if he chose, while only a few miles off his unacknowledged wife -and children were leading a secluded existence within stone walls. It -occurred to Ferrers that it would be a good idea to arrest them and -bring them to Alibad, there to confront Major Keeling with them -suddenly; and he asked the Mirza whether the fort was well defended. -The Mirza assured him that not only was the garrison ample for -defence, but watchmen were posted on all the hill-tops round, and it -was only by bribing one of these, over whom he had obtained some hold -in the past, that he had been able to reach the point of vantage they -had occupied. It was practically impossible to approach the place -undetected, he said, and before long there came a startling proof of -the truth of his words. Just before they reached the cave where the -horses had been left, Ferrers trod on a loose stone, which rolled down -the hillside with a terrifying clatter. Instantly a hail from the hill -on their left was answered by another from the right, and followed by -one from the fort itself. - -“Mount and ride for your life,” panted the Mirza to Ferrers, as they -stumbled into the cave. “There is no hope of escaping unnoticed now.” - -They had the ponies outside the cave in a twinkling, and were mounted -and riding down the path in another second. Stones rolled down under -the ponies’ feet, voices ran from hill to hill, and presently, when -the forms of the intruders were perceived, bullets began to fly around -them. Fortunately for Ferrers and the Mirza, the ponies were -sure-footed, and none of the Sheikh’s matchlockmen waited to take good -aim. They dashed out on the plain at last, unhurt, and from the nullah -behind them there rang out a last shot and a sharp cry, a man’s -death-cry. - -“The sentry who suffered us to pass,” remarked the Mirza casually. -“They have a short way with brethren who have been false to their -oaths, as I should know.” - -He seemed to feel he had said too much, and refused to answer Ferrers’ -eager questions as to when he had been a member of the brotherhood, -and why he had left it. They rode briskly back to the outskirts of the -town, and dismounted. The Mirza guided Ferrers through the byways to -Colin’s quarters, and left him there, carrying off his disguise for -safety’s sake, and Ferrers tumbled into bed and slept heavily. - -He did not wake till late, when he found the whole place in excitement -over the arrival of the mail. There were letters for him, but he -disregarded them all in favour of a telegram which had been forwarded -by boat and messenger from the point where the wires ended. It was -dated from Government House, Bab-us-Sahel, and came from his uncle, -announcing curtly that Mr Crayne was cutting short his Christmas -festivities on account of some complication which had arisen over the -affairs of a deposed native prince up the river. He considered that -his presence on the spot would enable the difficulty to be more easily -settled, and he was coming up the river by steamer as far as the -station which was the window by which the Alibad colony looked into -the larger world. He would be glad to see his nephew during his stay -there, and he was requesting Major Keeling to grant him a week’s -leave, which would be ample for the purpose. - -Ferrers’ feelings when he read the missive were mixed. Much depended -on this interview, and the impression he might make on his uncle. But -should he go to meet him as an engaged man or not? It was impossible -to tell what Mr Crayne’s mood at the moment would be, but the -probability was that he would find grounds for a grievance in either -alternative. On the whole, thought Ferrers, it would be better to -suppress all mention of Penelope until he had fathomed his uncle’s -intentions towards him. If he had no benevolent design in view, his -prejudices need not be considered; but if he had anything good in -store, it might be necessary to proceed with caution, and not reveal -the truth until Mr Crayne had seen Penelope and honoured her with his -approval. Ignoring his own former changes of feeling, Ferrers was now -sufficiently in love to feel certain that his uncle must approve of -her. - -With this in his mind he left the emerald ring in Colin’s charge, and -prepared for his journey, receiving a curt notice from Major Keeling -that the leave requested by his uncle was granted, riding out to Shah -Nawaz to inform the man who was taking his place that another week’s -exile was in store for him, and bidding farewell to Penelope and Lady -Haigh. Penelope was too much relieved to see him go to take any -offence at the postponement of the engagement, and Lady Haigh hailed -his departure in private as offering an opening for the “something -that might happen,” much longed for by herself, to prevent matters -going any further. Ferrers saw through her at a glance, and rode away -laughing. He had an idea that he might be able to induce his uncle to -pay a flying visit to Alibad and make Penelope’s acquaintance, and -then he remembered suddenly that he had in his possession information -that would bring Mr Crayne to Alibad if nothing else would. He had -given up the idea of extending mercy to Major Keeling by this time. He -wanted to see him disgraced, driven from the army and from the society -of Europeans, and forced to herd with the natives whose company it was -clear that he preferred. He had not a doubt that his uncle’s feelings -would accord with his, and he devoted a good deal of time while on his -journey to going over the different points of his evidence, and -deciding on the form in which he would present it. - -It was not until his second evening at Mr Crayne’s camp on the river -that he found his opportunity. The secretary and other officials who -were dragged in the Commissioner’s train, gathering that he would like -a talk with his nephew, had gladly effaced themselves on various -pretexts, and Ferrers and his uncle were left alone together. For some -time, while they smoked, Ferrers endured a bombardment of short snappy -questions, delivered in tones expressive of the deepest contempt, as -to his past career and his financial position, and heard his answers -received with undisguised sniffs. Then his chance came. - -“What d’ye think of that man of yours--Keeling?” demanded Mr Crayne. - -“He is--a fine soldier,” responded Ferrers guardedly. - -“What d’ye hum and haw like that for, sir?” Mr Crayne added a strong -expression. “I won’t be put off by puppies like you.” - -“I have no wish to put you off, sir,” said Ferrers with dignity; “but -you will understand it is difficult to give a candid opinion of one’s -commanding officer.” - -“I’ll give you a candid opinion of him, if you like!” cried Mr Crayne. -“He’s the most arrogant, hot-headed, interfering, cantankerous fool -that ever wrote insubordinate letters to his superiors!” - -“Oh, is that all?” The nephew’s face wore a pitying smile. - -“All? What more d’ye want, sir? And what d’ye mean by grinning at me -like that, sir? I won’t stand impudence.” - -“And yet you have to stand Keeling’s? He is indispensable, isn’t he?” - -Another volley of strong language, which Ferrers understood to convey -the information that Mr Crayne would feel deeply indebted to any one -who would enable him to bundle Major Keeling out of the province for -good and all. When the flow of vituperation ceased for a moment, he -spoke-- - -“I have been anxious to ask your advice for some time, sir. -Circumstances have come to my knowledge about Major Keeling----” - -“That would break him--smash him--if they came out?” gasped Mr Crayne, -becoming purple in the face. “Go on, boy; go on.” - -Ferrers began his tale, at first interrupted continually by what he -considered impertinent questions as to his relations with the Mirza, -his grounds for accepting evidence from him against Major Keeling, and -so on; but by degrees the interruptions ceased, and he was allowed to -finish what he had to say in peace. Then Mr Crayne chuckled. - -“I knew the man was a hot-headed fool, but I never thought he was a -double-dyed ass!” he cried triumphantly. “He’s set a trap for himself, -and walked into it. He might have written insubordinate letters till -he died, and not given me such a handle against him as this. What are -you looking horrified about, sir, eh?” - -Ferrers disavowed the charge stoutly, though his uncle’s glee had set -his teeth on edge. “I don’t quite see----” he began. - -“Eh? What? Don’t see it? Don’t see that the fellow has personated this -Sheikh-ul-Jabal for ten years, and made away with the allowance he was -supposed to pay over to him? Used it to support his precious -black-and-tan family, of course. No, there’s no law against a man’s -marrying a black woman, or a dozen, if he wants ’em, and he’s at -liberty to become a heathen, for all I know, if he doesn’t force his -notions down other people’s throats; but embezzlement--that’s a -different thing.” - -“Oh, but--by Jove! this is disgusting,” said Ferrers. “I really don’t -think----” - -“Oh, you’re young, and innocent, and romantic,” said his uncle, -drawling out the epithets, which Ferrers felt were quite undeserved, -with immense relish. “What does it matter if the man chooses to live -like a nigger when he’s off duty? Plenty of ’em do. But giving false -receipts for government money--that’s where we have him.” - -“But how can he have managed it?” - -“Oh, it’s been cleverly done. I allow that. It must have begun with -that Nalapur affair ten years ago. Of course the real Sheikh-ul-Jabal -was killed with his brother-in-law Nasr Ali, and old Harry Lennox, in -his eagerness to get his conscience whitewashed for what he had done, -never took the trouble to see whether he was alive or dead, but -granted the allowance when it was asked for. And your fine Commandant -has simply pocketed it from that day to this!” - -“But how did he impose himself on the brotherhood and the Sheikh’s -followers?” - -“Why d’ye ask me? I wasn’t there. But we’ll call my secretary, and ask -him about the Mountain sect. It’s his business to get ’em all up, and -he’s a dab at finding out facts. Not that I let him think so. Here, -you sir, Hazeldean!” he raised his voice, “Come here!” - -The secretary came hurrying up, in evident perturbation. He was a -nervous-looking youth, with the round shoulders and hesitating manners -of the student, and gave the impression of having been waked from a -dream by a rough shock. - -“Why are you never at hand when you’re wanted, sir?” demanded Mr -Crayne. “It’s scarcely worth while asking you, but perhaps among all -the perfectly useless information you manage to stow away you may have -picked up something about the Sheikh-ul-Jabal and his sect?” - -“Indeed I have, sir. The subject has interested me very much since I -came to Khemistan, and learned----” - -“Then let’s hear what you know about it,” snapped Mr Crayne. - -“The Mountain brotherhood claims to be the direct survival of a -terrible secret society formed in Crusading times,” began the -secretary, as if he were repeating a lesson, “which furthered its -objects by the murder of any one who stood in its way. There were -seven stages of initiation, and in the lower the brethren professed -the most rigid Mohammedanism, but in the higher the initiates were -taught that good and evil were merely names, and all religions alike -false. Absolute obedience to the rule of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal was the -chief point in the vows taken, and when he ordered the removal of any -one, it took place at once. Some of the Crusading leaders were accused -of having entered the brotherhood, and this accusation was especially -brought against the Templars. The order seems to have existed in -secret ever since it was supposed to be stamped out, and the present -Sheikh-ul-Jabal is actually a pensioner of the Company’s, living -somewhere near Alibad, which was what attracted my attention to the -sect at first. Some writers think that the Druses----” - -“That’ll do,” said Mr Crayne curtly, interrupting the hurried -monologue. “I didn’t ask you for a lecture. Can you tell me the exact -membership of the order at the present time, or anything else that is -practical?” - -“I--I’m afraid not, sir. There are no means of ascertaining such facts -as that, I fear. But I believe an important book has been published in -Germany dealing with the sect, if you would permit me to order it for -you----” - -“No, I won’t. What good is a German book to any civilised man? You are -always ready to stock my library with books you want to read. You can -go back to your grinding, sir.” - -The secretary departed with alacrity, and Mr Crayne turned to his -nephew-- - -“We see that the sect has always been willing to accept European -recruits, at any rate, which looks promising. The murder part of the -business has been dropped, apparently, or I should scarcely be sitting -here, after Keeling’s letters to me. Well, I shall pay a flying visit -to Alibad, and thresh the matter out. Must give the man a chance to -justify himself, though he’ll be clever to do it. If he offers to pay -back the money, I may have to let him retire and lose himself. If not, -there must be an inquiry. You’ll be prepared to give evidence, of -course?” - -“It’s an awkward thing to witness against one’s commanding officer, -sir.” - -“What, trying to back out of it, eh? What d’ye mean, sir? I’ll have -your blood if you fail me.” - -“I could not remain in the regiment after it, sir.” - -“Oho, you want to get something out of me, eh? Well, other regiments -won’t exactly compete for your services, either. It must be something -extra-regimental, then. What about the languages? I hear you used to -knock about among the niggers when you were down at the coast. Do any -good with it? Like to go to Gamara?” - -“In what capacity, sir?” - -“Governor-General’s agent, I suppose. They’re talking of sending an -envoy to hunt up that fool Whybrow. You know he’s disappeared? If you -come well through the business, you’re a made man.” - -Ferrers did not hesitate. Whybrow was not the only man who had entered -the Central Asian city and been seen no more. It was the dream of -every generous mind in India to force an entrance into the dungeons -there, and set the captives free. How proud Penelope would be of him -if he accepted and performed the coveted task! - -“I should like nothing better, sir,” he said. - -“Well, I think I have influence enough to get you the appointment. But -you’ve got to do your work first, or I’ll break you.” - - - - - CHAPTER X. - ARRAIGNED. - -“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.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - JUSTIFIED. - -“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.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. - -“Come! all’s well that ends well,” said Major Keeling to Sir Dugald, -as they rode into the town after escorting Mr Crayne back to the fort. -“I don’t remember ever feeling so happy before.” - -“I don’t wonder,” was the laconic reply. - -“But I do. After all, Ferrers’ charge was a preposterous one. Why -should I feel so extraordinarily glad to have cleared myself? The -relief seems out of all proportion to the trouble.” - -“I hope you are not fey, Major, as we say in Scotland?” - -“If you are asking whether I have a presentiment of approaching -misfortune, I never was freer from it in my life.” - -“No, it’s just the other way. You feel particularly happy, and you -can’t see any reason for it. Then you know that misfortune is on its -way.” - -“Oh, that’s what it is to be fey? Haigh, I’ll tell you what would have -been a misfortune--if your wife and Miss Ross had turned against me.” - -“Do you think they’re fools?” growled Sir Dugald. - -“No; but the charge must have seemed very serious to them. By the way, -I don’t think they ever asked what the charge was, though!” He -laughed, a great ringing laugh. “They acquitted me on trust. On my -honour, Haigh, if those two women had believed me guilty, I should -have been ready to blow out my brains!” - -“The ladies ought to be flattered,” said Sir Dugald soberly. Major -Keeling gave him a sharp look, but he was gazing straight between his -horse’s ears, with an absolutely impassive face. No one looking at him -would have guessed that he was trying to break through his natural -reserve so far as to inform the Commandant of Penelope’s engagement. -What instinct impelled him to the effort he could not have told, and -the fear of committing a breach of confidence combined with his -Scottish prudence to keep his mouth shut. Major Keeling leaned over -from his tall horse and slapped him on the back. - -“Don’t look so doleful, Haigh!” he commanded. “We shall see better -things for the frontier from to-day. The old man’s apology was really -handsome, and I like him better than I should ever have thought I -could like a civilian. I can even forgive Ferrers, if he doesn’t do -anything to put my back up again before I see him next.” - -Sir Dugald turned and looked at him in silence--a look which Major -Keeling remembered afterwards; but if he had at last made up his mind -to speak, his opportunity was gone, for Dr Tarleton came flying out of -his surgery to demand whether all was right. In spite of the secrecy -Mr Crayne had honestly tried to preserve, some rumour of the crisis -had got about through the gossip of the servants at the fort, and -every white man in Alibad felt that he was standing his trial at the -side of the Commandant. One after another dropped in at Major -Keeling’s office, all with colourable excuses, but really to learn the -news, and were received and sent on their way again with a geniality -that astonished and delighted them. Better days must indeed be in -store for the frontier if the Chief had time not to be curt. - -Sir Dugald had gone round to the artillery lines after leaving the -office, and returned thither in the course of an hour or two, -expecting to find Major Keeling still at work; but the room was empty, -save for the presence of young Bigg, the European clerk, and the -native writers. Bigg looked up and grinned when Sir Dugald entered. - -“Want the Chief? He’s gone up to the fort.” - -“Already? Why, dinner isn’t for two hours yet.” - -“I didn’t say he had gone to dinner, did I? If you asked me, I should -say he had gone for something quite different. I heard him giving his -boy _gali_ [a scolding] because his spurs were not bright. What does -that look like, eh?” - -“Looks to me as if you wanted your head punched. It’s like your -impudence to go spying on the Chief,” said Sir Dugald gloomily, but -Bigg chuckled unabashed. - -At the fort Lady Haigh, immersed in preparations for the dinner-party, -found herself suddenly addressed by Major Keeling. - -“Miss Ross is not helping you?” he said. - -“No, she was worn out after all the excitement this morning, so I made -her go and rest in the drawing-room with a book. I wanted her to be -fresh for to-night.” - -“Then I will go and find her.” There was repressed excitement in his -manner, and Lady Haigh, looking after him, found herself confronted -with the question her husband had already faced. Ought she to tell -him? - -“No,” she said to herself, setting her teeth with a snap. “Dugald -forbade me to interfere in the matter in any way, and I won’t. And I -only hope the Major will be able to persuade her to have him and give -up Ferrers.” - -Penelope, in the shaded drawing-room, lifted her heavy eyes from the -book she had obediently chosen, and saw Major Keeling’s tall figure -framed in the doorway. She had heard him ride up, had heard his voice -speaking to Lady Haigh, and had assured herself, with what she thought -was relief, that he would come no further. Mr Crayne had brought him -in, when he returned to the fort, and demanded the congratulations of -the ladies on his behalf, and what more could he have to say? But here -he was, entering the room with the care which had aroused Ferrers’ -derision months before, and trying to lower his voice lest it should -be too loud for her. - -“Shall I worry you, Miss Ross, or may I come and talk to you a little? -I feel as if I couldn’t work this afternoon.” - -“I don’t wonder,” said Penelope, surprising herself in a sudden pang -as she thought how splendid he looked. “Won’t you sit down?” - -To her surprise he took a chair at some distance from her, and seated -himself thoughtfully. “I am going to ask you to let me talk about -myself,” he said--“unless it would bore you?” - -“Oh no!” she answered quickly. “I should like to hear it very much.” - -He looked at her with a questioning smile. “You know they call me a -woman-hater?” he said. “I wonder whether you agree with them? Don’t -believe it, please; it is not true. A woman-worshipper--at a -distance--would be nearer the truth. But I see you think I must be off -my head to begin in this way. Well, it was thinking of the way I was -brought up that made me do it. My mother died when I was barely three -years old: I can just remember her. When she died my father simply -withdrew from society altogether. It was said he had vowed never to -speak to a woman again: I don’t know whether that was true, but he -never did. It was easier for him than for most men to drop out of the -usual run of life, for he was not in the regular army. He had raised a -body of horse towards the end of the Mahratta Wars, and done such good -service that when they were over his commission was continued, and his -regiment recognised as irregular cavalry. But Keeling’s Horse was -never brigaded with other regiments. He had a _jaghir_ [fief] of his -own from the Emperor of Delhi, and lived there among his men and their -relations, with only one other white man, his second in command. They -both fell in love with the same woman, the daughter of a King’s -officer, and agreed to draw lots who should speak to her first, the -loser to abide loyally by the lady’s choice. My father won, and was -accepted--though how it happened I don’t know, for my mother’s friends -swore to cast her off if she married him, and did it, too. The two of -them lived perfectly happily away from other Europeans, except poor -old Franks, whose friendship with my father was not a bit interrupted, -and when my mother died, those two chummed together again as they had -done before the marriage. They both kept a sharp eye on me, and -brought me up something like the Persian boys--to ride and shoot and -to speak the truth. I shall never forget the day when I came out with -something I had picked up from the servants--of course I was a -restless little beggar, always about where I had no business to be. My -father gave me the worst thrashing I ever had in my life, and he and -Franks rubbed it into me that I had disgraced my colour and my dead -mother. I feel rather sorry for myself when I remember that night, for -I knew my father’s high standard, and I felt as if I could never look -a fellow-creature in the face again. After that the two were always -consulting together, and at last they announced to me that Franks was -going to take me home and put me to school. That was how they settled -it: my father could not leave his people and his regiment, but Franks -took the business upon himself without a murmur, and he did his duty -like a man. The funny thing was, that we were almost as solitary on -the voyage and in England as we had been in India. Franks must have -grown out of the society of his kind,--I had never known it. We took -lodgings in a little country town; there was a school there -recommended by the captain of the Indiaman we came home in. I think -the country-people looked on us as a set of wizards, Franks and I with -our brown faces and queer nankeen clothes, and his boy who couldn’t -speak English. The boy cooked for us, and we managed to get along -somehow. I went to school, and hated the place, the lessons, the -usher, and the boys about equally. My only happy time was when I could -get home to Franks and talk Hindustani again. I suppose there must -have been kind people who would have been good to us if we had let -them, but we were both as wild and shy as jungly ponies, and they -seemed to give it up in despair. I think the general opinion was that -Franks had sold himself to the devil, and was bringing me up to follow -in his footsteps, and yet, except my father, I never knew a more -honourable, simple soul. Well, the years passed on, and we began to -feel that the end of our exile was at hand. When I was fifteen we -might come back to India, my father had said. And so I did go back, -but not poor Franks. Our last winter was a frightfully severe one, and -he fell ill. He gave me full directions about going back, sent -messages to my father, and died. The clergyman of the place was kind, -and it was only by piecing together what the people said as they -whispered and nudged one another when I passed that I learned they -grudged my dear old friend a grave in consecrated ground. However, the -parson put that right, and found some one who would take me up to -London and secure a passage back to India for me. This time I was so -desperately lonely that I made friends among the youths of my own age -on board as much as they would let me. They thought me rather a swell, -travelling with a boy of my own, and only a few of them turned up -their noses at me because my father was nothing but a commandant of -black irregulars, and lived away among the natives. There were several -ladies on board, but I never attempted to go near them. I should as -soon have thought of trying to make the acquaintance of so many -angels. When we reached Calcutta, I spent only a few days in the town, -and hurried up-country as fast as I could, for I heard tales of my -father that made me anxious. He had resigned the command of his -regiment two or three years before, on learning that it was to be -assimilated with the rest of the irregular cavalry, and people said -that he had become quite a native in his way of living. Very few had -ever seen him, for when travellers came in his direction, he had a way -of leaving his house and servants at their disposal, and retiring to a -garden-house at some distance, where he shut himself up till they were -gone. Well, I found him, and the pleasure of seeing me seemed to give -him new life for a while. He took me out shooting, and taught me all I -know of _shikar_. But he was not satisfied; he would not have me live -on among natives when he was gone, and suddenly he astonished me by -saying he had managed to get me attached as a volunteer to the --th -Bombay Cavalry. The Commander-in-chief was an old friend of his, and -had promised to nominate me for a commission on the first opportunity, -and meanwhile I was to pick up my drill and any other knowledge that -might be useful to me. This time I was fairly thrown out to sink or -swim, for I had no Franks to take refuge with when I was off duty, and -a pretty tough fight I found it. I got on well enough with my -comrades, though there has always been a prejudice against me for -entering the army by a backdoor, as they say, and it has been against -me with my superiors too. And then I was not the kind of chap who -makes himself pleasant and gets liked. I have always been a sort of -Ishmael, and I suppose I always shall be. As for the ladies--well, I -tried hard to get in with them at first to please my dear old father, -who had no idea that he and poor Franks between them had made me a -regular wild man of the woods. But I couldn’t do it. I could never -talk of things that interested them, or pay them compliments, or do -the things that it seemed natural to them to expect. One or two kind -creatures did take me in hand, but they dropped me like a hot coal, -and at last I gave it up. I got my commission in the end, and I told -my father I meant to marry my regiment. He agreed with me, I am glad -to say, for it was the last time I saw him. His _jaghir_ lapsed to the -Emperor, for I was on the frontier by that time, and never meant to go -back to the jungle. My chance came when it fell to me to raise the -Khemistan Horse, and I knew I had found my place in the world. Sir -Henry Lennox put me here, and I have given all my thoughts and every -rupee I could lay my hands on to the frontier ever since. I made up my -mind almost at once that I would have no married men up here. A wife -was a drag to a man in such a service as this, I said, and even if she -was content to endure it, it was not fair to her. Then--you know the -way I was taken in about Haigh and his wife?” Penelope smiled. “Then -you came,” he went on, “and you were different from any woman I had -ever met. When I saw you first, I knew that you would help a man, not -hinder him, in his work, and you have helped me all these months. I -could talk to you of what I was doing and hoped to do, and you would -understand and sympathise. You can never guess what it has been to me, -and until this morning I thought there was nothing more I could want. -But it is not enough. I want more.” - -“Don’t! don’t! oh, please don’t!” entreated Penelope, covering her -eyes with her hands as he rose and stood over her. - -“You must let me finish what I have to say. I will speak very quietly; -I don’t want to frighten you. See, I will sit down again, quite at the -other side of the room. This morning it struck me like a blow, What -should I have done if you had believed me guilty? If it had been Lady -Haigh I could have stood it, though it would have cut me to the heart; -but it was not Lady Haigh whose sympathy had made Alibad a different -place to me. Then I remembered that the Haighs can’t remain here -always, and if they went away, you would go with them, and I should be -left here without you. But you have spoilt me for my old solitary -life. You have drawn my soul out to talk to you--I know it was not -your fault, you never meant to do it,” as Penelope tried to speak, -“but you can’t give it me back. I know I have nothing to offer you. I -am unpopular with my superiors and with the civil government; my life -is devoted to the frontier. I don’t know how I have the face to ask -you to think whether you could possibly marry me, but I only ask you -to think about it. Tell me when you have decided. I can wait. The only -thing I cannot bear is to lose you.” - -Utter misery and pent-up feeling combined to give Penelope’s words a -thrill of bitterness. “If you have only felt this since the morning, -it cannot hurt you much to lose me,” she said. - -He rose and came towards her again. “I think I have felt it all along -without knowing it,” he said. “It is as if I had been looking for -something all my life, and had found it to-day.” - -“Oh, if you had only spoken sooner, I might have stood out against -them!” The words were wrung from Penelope, but she crushed down her -pain fiercely. “No, no, I did not mean that,” she said hastily. “It is -too late, Major Keeling. There is some one else.” - -“Some one to whom you are engaged?” She bowed her head. “Forgive me -for boring you so long, but I had no means of knowing. It is Porter, -I suppose? He is a fine fellow. I hope you will be very happy; I -believe you will.” - -“It is not Captain Porter,” said Penelope. She must tell him the -truth, or he might congratulate Porter--poor Porter, who had proposed -to her and been refused three months ago. Her voice fell guiltily. “It -is Captain Ferrers.” - -“Ferrers! Not Ferrers?” He repeated the name, as if the idea was -incredible. “It cannot be Ferrers. Why, you can’t know----” - -“Yes, I know; but he is different, he has given it all up. He says I -can help him, and I have promised to try.” - -“But it is not fit. He is no more worthy of you---- Of course I am not -worthy either, but still---- I must speak to your brother. Who am I to -say that I am better than Ferrers? But I can’t see you sacrificed. -Your life would be one long misery.” - -“Please, please say nothing. Oh, forgive me, but don’t you see you are -the one person who ought not to interfere?” - -He looked at her with something of reproach. “If it set up an eternal -barrier between you and myself, I would still try to save you.” - -“But indeed, it is no use speaking to Colin. I have promised----” - -“Do you care for this man?” he interrupted her. - -“I have promised to marry him in the hope of helping him, and I shall -keep my promise.” - -“You don’t care for him. You have not even that hold over him, and how -do you think you can do him any good?” - -“He thinks I can, and I have promised. I am bound by that promise -unless George Ferrers himself gives me release, and he won’t.” - -“I’ll wring it out of him.” - -The growl, like that of an angry lion, terrified Penelope. She laid -her hand on her champion’s arm. - -“Major Keeling, I ask you--I entreat you--to do nothing. It is my own -fault. Elma Haigh warned me against Captain Ferrers, and if I had -listened to her, I should never have renewed my promise. But it is -given, and I must keep it. One can’t wriggle out of a promise because -it turns out to be hard to keep. You would not do it yourself; why -should you think I would?” - -He took her hand and held it between his. “Do you ask me,” he said -slowly, “to stand by, and see you give yourself to a man who at his -best is well meaning, but generally isn’t even that? It’s not as if -you cared for him. You might manage to be happy somehow if you did, -but as it is----” - -“Don’t make it harder for me,” entreated Penelope. - -“Am I doing that? Heaven knows I don’t want to, unless I could make it -so hard you couldn’t do it. Why, it’s preposterous!” he broke out -again. “That you should feel bound to sacrifice yourself----” - -“Is a promise a sacred thing to you? You know it is. So it is to me. I -must keep it, but you can make it much harder to do.” - -“I will do anything in the world that will help you.” - -“Then please go away, and never speak of this again.” Penelope’s -strength was exhausted. In another moment she must break down, she -knew, and if he pleaded with her again, how could she resist him? He -seemed about to protest, but after one look at her face, he dropped -her hand and went out. She moved to the window, and watched him -between the slats of the blind as he mounted Miani and rode away. -Would he ride out into the desert, she wondered, and try to rid -himself of his grief in the old way? But no, he turned in that -direction at first, but almost immediately took the road to the town -again. If he were absent from the dinner-party that night, she might -be questioned, as the person who had seen him last, and he must do -nothing that might reflect on her. He rode to his own house, and going -into his private office, sat down resolutely at his desk and pulled -out paper and ink. He had been promising himself a controversy with no -less a person than the Governor-General, a fiery, indomitable little -man of a type of character not unlike his own. Lord Blairgowrie had -observed, in a moment of irritation, that every frontier officer in -India was a Governor-General in his own estimation, and would have to -be taught his mistake, whether he were Major Keeling, C.B., or the -latest arrived subaltern. An injudicious friend--he possessed a good -many of these--had passed on the remark to Major Keeling, who had been -prepared to resent it in his usual style. But on this occasion he got -no further than writing, “To the Right Honourable the Earl of -Blairgowrie. My Lord----” It was no use. The caustic words he had been -turning over in his mind would not come. His thoughts were running on -a very different subject, and he pushed away the pen and paper, and -buried his face in his hands. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - THE DIE IS CAST. - -How long Penelope sat in the drawing-room, staring with stony eyes -straight before her, after Major Keeling had gone out, she did not -know, but she was roused at last by hearing another horseman ride into -the courtyard, and walk across the verandah with clinking spurs. She -could not face any one just now, whoever it might be, and she ran to -the door, intending to take refuge in her own room, but found herself -confronted by Ferrers, who broke into a cheerful laugh. - -“Just the person I wanted!” he cried. “Now, don’t run away.” - -“I--I must,” she faltered. “It’s time to dress for dinner.” - -“Oh no, it isn’t, not even for me, and I have to go to my quarters and -get back here. I want to speak to you.” - -“But have you arrested that man--your munshi?” - -“No; he knew better. Went back and collected his belongings, and made -himself scarce. We shan’t see any more of him, so it’s all right.” - -“All right, when he brought false charges against Major Keeling, and -tried to support them by murder? How can you say so?” - -“Well, the poor wretch was very useful to me, and I never had any -reason to complain of him. Of course he’s done for himself now, but -I’m glad I haven’t got to hunt him to earth. Why shouldn’t he get away -if he can? Now, don’t look horror-struck and reproachful. It isn’t as -if I had helped him off, even. He was gone long before I got there, -and I left orders that he should be arrested at once if he showed his -nose about the place. What more could I do? You women are so -vindictive. You’re as bad as my uncle. He rode out to meet me with -Colin, and his language was quite disgraceful when he heard the Mirza -had decamped. I knew Colin would feel called upon to testify in -another minute, so I told him to ride ahead with the escort, while I -had it out with my respected relative.” - -“But I don’t understand. What made him so angry?” - -“Why, of course he wants the Mirza caught and punished, lest people -should say he had employed him to trump up a false charge against -Keeling. And so he turned regularly nasty to me, and said I had got -him into a most unpleasant position, and in future I might go to the -dogs in my own way, for he washed his hands of me. When he became -offensive like that, I thought it was time to open his eyes a bit, and -I did. I told him he had ruined my prospects here by coming and trying -to make a tool of me to satisfy his grudge against the Chief, and I -wasn’t going to be thrown aside now. It was all very well for him to -fall into Keeling’s arms and swear eternal friendship; but if that -friendship was to remain unbroken, my mouth would have to be shut. He -had got me to bring charges against my commanding officer, promising -me protection, and if I chose, I could show up a very pretty little -conspiracy for getting Keeling out of the province----” - -“But surely”--gasped Penelope--“you believed in the charges yourself? -and Mr Crayne too?” - -“Of course we did. It was the Mirza who played us false, but that has -nothing to do with it. It’s my uncle’s business to cover the retreat -of his own forces, and so I told him, and he swore he’d never lift a -finger to save me from being hanged. So then I tried him with you. -He’s taken rather a fancy to you, you know, and I gave him a hint last -night how things were. So I told him I knew you’d never drop me, -whatever happened, and asked him how he’d like to see you sticking to -a disgraced man, and marrying him upon nothing but debts. Of course he -said if you were such a silly fool as to do it you’d deserve what you -got, but I could see he was a bit waked up. He cooled down by degrees, -and at last we came to an agreement. He’s to put matters right with -Keeling, so that I can stay on here for the present, and as soon as -possible he’ll put me into an extra-regimental appointment of some -kind. He may be able to get me sent as envoy to Gamara. What do you -think of that?” - -“Gamara--that dreadful place? Oh no!” - -He laughed, with some condescension. “Why, of course it’s the danger -that makes the post such a splendid thing to get, little Pen.” - -“I wasn’t thinking of the danger. It is the frightful wickedness of -the place.” - -“And you couldn’t trust me there! What a flattering opinion you have -of me! But that doesn’t signify. Look here, Pen, I want our engagement -announced to-night. My uncle will do it at the dinner-party; he was -quite pleased with the idea. Here’s the ring I’ve been keeping for -you. Let me put it on.” - -But Penelope drew back from him. She had endured much, but this was -impossible. To sit at dinner between Major Keeling and Ferrers, and be -the subject of the congratulations, toasts, and jests which the -suggested announcement would involve, conscious all the time that the -heart supposed to belong to the one man had been given to the -other--how could she stand it? She spoke with indignant decision. “No, -you must wait till to-morrow. You may make your announcement to-night -if you like, but I shall not appear.” - -“Nonsense, Pen! What do you mean? What would the fellows say?” - -“They may say and think what they please, but if the slightest -allusion is made to anything of the kind, I will never speak to you -again. I won’t wear your ring. Take it back, or I will throw it away.” - -“Well, of all the----!” Ferrers was puzzled and slightly alarmed. -“There’s no need to fly out at me like a little fury, Pen. If you -don’t want the engagement announced to-night--why, it shan’t be, of -course. But what am I to say to my uncle?” - -“Anything you like. Say I don’t feel well. Tell him it was the -eclipse, if you want an excuse.” She laughed mirthlessly. - -“Oh, very well; but I hope you’re not going to take up fancies, and go -on like this----” - -“If you are not satisfied, you have only to release me from my -promise.” - -“Not I. If you said you hated me I’d marry you just the same, and you -don’t quite do that, do you?” - -Her gleam of hope had vanished. Ferrers’ smile showed he had no -intention of releasing her, and she wished with impotent rage that she -could give him the faintest idea of the utter repulsion, the loathing -dislike, with which he inspired her. But he would not see it for -himself, and she would not stoop to entreat her freedom again. With a -laughing recommendation to get a little colour into her cheeks before -the evening, he left her, and she was thankful to be allowed to -escape. - -The evening was a terrible one to her, although she had foreseen that -it would naturally fall to Major Keeling to take her in, as the only -lady in the place besides Lady Haigh. The Chief was in one of his -black moods, so the other men whispered to one another; and Penelope -sat beside him through the stages of that interminable dinner, and -waxed desperate. He could do much for her sake, but he could not speak -and act as if the interview of that afternoon had never taken place, -and he said barely a word during the meal, while the settled gloom in -his eye when it rested upon Ferrers terrified Penelope. She threw -herself into the breach, talked nonsense with the other men, as if -despairing of getting a word from him, tried manfully to cover his -silence, and knew all the time that she was wounding him afresh with -every word she spoke. As soon as she and Lady Haigh were in the -drawing-room she went straight to her guitar-case, and, getting out -the instrument, tuned it to the utmost pitch of perfection. Presently -Lady Haigh, who had been watching her anxiously, came and tried to -take the guitar out of her hands. - -“You mustn’t sing to-night, Pen,” she said; “I’m going to make you -rest quietly in a corner.” But Penelope resisted her efforts. - -“No, Elma,” she said. “I am going to sing the whole evening. If you -want to help me, ask for another song whenever I stop--only not sad -ones. Otherwise----” - -The entrance of the men prevented the rest of the sentence, and Lady -Haigh could do nothing but obey. She was conscious of the thundercloud -on Major Keeling’s brow, and thought she could guess at its cause; but -she seconded Penelope’s efforts nobly, scouted any sad songs that were -suggested, and made the gentlemen agree with acclamation that Miss -Ross had never sung with such archness and expression in her life. In -her mind was running a line from one of the songs which Penelope had -laid down with a shudder,-- - - “Go, weep for those whose hearts have bled - What time their eyes were dry,”-- - -and she knew that the only chance was to leave her not a moment for -thought. It did not surprise her when, after the guests were gone, -Penelope took up the guitar once more, and deliberately snapped the -strings one after the other. It would be long before she could touch -it again without living through that evening’s agony afresh. - -Morning came, and with it Ferrers, but by no means in a lover-like -frame of mind. His feelings were deeply injured, and he was full of -grievances. After leaving the fort the night before, his comrades, -taking their cue, as they considered, from Major Keeling, had all but -cut him. It had been understood that Ferrers had made a full apology, -and expressed his deep regret for the charges he had brought, and that -Mr Crayne’s mediation had induced the Commandant to overlook the -matter. But Major Keeling’s attitude at the dinner-party, his apparent -inability to address a single word to Ferrers, had given the other -officers a welcome opportunity of marking their sense of the younger -man’s conduct. Ignorant as they were, and as Ferrers himself was, of -the new cause of quarrel between the two, they came to the conclusion -that his behaviour had been so unpardonable that only the strongest -pressure from Mr Crayne had prevailed upon Major Keeling to overlook -it even officially, and in their loyalty to their Chief they hailed -the chance of copying his demeanour. The faithful Colin, who was much -perplexed by Major Keeling’s uncharitable behaviour, and almost felt -impelled to remonstrate with him, was the only exception, and managed, -quite unintentionally, to fan the flame of Ferrers’ indignation by the -fulness of his sympathy. Fortunately for Penelope, Ferrers had not -time to recount his ill-treatment at length, and was only concerned to -have the engagement fully recognised before he started to escort his -uncle back to the river. - -“Now, Pen,” he said as he came in, without troubling himself to bid -her good morning, “I must have this thing settled. My uncle wants to -see you before he goes, so don’t try and play fast and loose with me -any more.” - -Silently Penelope held out her hand, and he put the ring on her -finger, only to find that it would not stay on. - -“Why, your hand must have got thinner since I had the ring made!” he -cried, taking the fact as a personal injury. “And I wish you wouldn’t -look so white and washed-out. It was quite unnecessary for you to sing -so much last night--though of course it was just as well to try to -cover Keeling’s bearish behaviour as much as possible--and naturally -you’re tired after it. This place doesn’t suit you, I’m certain.” - -“I will wind some silk round the ring to keep it on,” said Penelope -wearily; “and I shan’t sing any more, George.” - -“While I’m away, do you mean? How fearfully touching! Well, you won’t -see much of me for some time now. I mean to go back to Shah Nawaz and -see if I can’t do something to cut the ground from under the feet of -these fellows who think they’re too good to speak to me. Then I shall -be off to Gamara, and when I come back we’ll be married, and my uncle -will find me a berth somewhere. Hang it, Penelope! can’t you look -pleased? I never saw such a girl for throwing cold water on -everything. You know how fond I am of you, and how I want to have a -good position to give you, and you don’t care a scrap! I might as well -be going to marry a statue.” - -“I am very sorry,” she said, screwing up her courage for the effort, -“but you know how it is. I have asked you to release me, and you -refuse.” - -“Oh, it’s that again, is it? You’re trying to work on my feelings by -looking pathetic? Then just understand, once for all, that I won’t -release you, and it’s no good trying to drive me to it. You haven’t -the least idea what it means to a fellow to be really in love with a -girl; but I can tell you this, that I won’t give you up to any man -alive--do you hear?--to any man on earth. So you may as well make up -your mind to it.” - -Did he suspect? Penelope could not decide, but she resigned her hope -of freedom once more, and allowed him to take her to his uncle, who -received her very kindly, and promptly despatched Ferrers to see -whether things were nearly ready for the start. - -“I wanted to say this to you, my dear,” he said, with obvious -embarrassment, “that you’ll be wanting to send for pretty things from -home, and I should like you to look upon me as your father for the -occasion. Young brothers don’t know anything about gowns and fallals, -do they?” - -Penelope looked at him, unable to speak. Pretty things from home for a -wedding at which sackcloth and ashes, or the deepest mourning, would -be the only wear that could accord with her feelings! The old man -misunderstood her look. - -“There, there! don’t thank me, my dear. I’ll settle it with your -friend Lady Haigh, but I thought you might like to know. Pretty gowns -for pretty girls, eh? And I’m doing it with an eye to my own -advantage, too. Don’t stint yourself in frocks, Miss Pen. I rather -want a lady to do the honours down there at Government House. What if -I gave George some post that would keep him at Bab-us-Sahel, and you -two set up housekeeping with the old man, eh? How would you like that, -my dear? Better than the frontier, eh?” - -Penelope owned to herself frankly that it was. Latterly the -possibility of finding herself alone with Ferrers in some isolated -station, with no other Europeans within reach, had weighed upon her -day and night. In Mr Crayne’s house, eccentric as he might be, she -would find protection if she needed it. She did not ask herself from -what she would need protection, or renew the useless reflection that -the prospect in which she expected to need it was hardly a hopeful -one. She looked up at Mr Crayne again. - -“I should like it much better,” she said; “and it is very, very kind -of you to think of it.” - -Mr Crayne did not seem wholly satisfied. Perhaps it struck him as -strange that his company should be welcome in the circumstances. He -pushed back Penelope’s hair, and kissed her forehead. - -“My dear,” he said, “the pleasure will be wholly mine. And if George -beats you--why, I shall be at hand to interfere, you see.” He looked -for a laughing, indignant denial, but Penelope started guiltily, and -flushed crimson. For the moment she felt as if he had read her secret -thoughts. “My dear,” he cried, in real alarm, “I don’t think you are -quite happy about this. What is it?” - -But Penelope had regained her self-possession. Bad as the state of -affairs might be, she had too much loyalty to discuss it with Ferrers’ -uncle. “I am going to try to be happy,” she said, looking him straight -in the face. “And Captain Ferrers is satisfied.” - -“Yes, George is satisfied, and so he ought to be, lucky young dog! -Found a wife much too good for him, eh? I don’t mind saying that -George has disappointed me in the past; but with you to help him, my -dear, he must do well. And you mean to keep him in order, eh? So much -the better! Why, there he is clinking his spurs outside. Thinks I’m -encroaching on his privileges, eh?” - -Bestowing a second kiss on Penelope, Mr Crayne left her to his nephew, -and went out to see the camels loaded, and incidentally to wrestle -with his misgivings, which were difficult to banish. - -“It’s Keeling if it’s any one. I thought so from the first, and his -face last night makes it almost certain. And the girl ain’t happy -either. But why should I look after Keeling? He’s old enough to manage -his own affairs. No one could expect me to take his side against -George. Besides, this is George’s one chance. If any one can keep him -straight it’ll be a woman. Keeling can get on all right by himself. -Daresay the girl sees it. She seems to have made up her mind--wouldn’t -thank me for interfering. Hang it all! I’m not going to interfere, if -she’s willing to take George in hand. Must think first of one’s own -flesh and blood.” - -And his meditations having thus led him, by a somewhat different -route, to much the same conclusion as that which Colin had long ago -reached, Mr Crayne bade his scruples trouble him no more. - - - -Four days later Ferrers dropped in at the fort again, on his way back -to Shah Nawaz, after leaving his uncle at the river, and was asked to -stay to tiffin. The invitation was given, with impressive solemnity, -by Sir Dugald, Lady Haigh having flatly refused to offer Ferrers any -hospitality. She would have liked to see him forbidden the house, and -urged that Penelope would be much happier if he were, to which Sir -Dugald replied that in that case it was a pity she had promised to -marry him, but that it was not her hostess’s business to keep them -apart. The Chief had accepted the man’s apology, considering that he -had acted in good faith, and it was impossible to go behind his -decision. Nothing could have been more correct than Sir Dugald’s -attitude, nothing more heroic than his efforts to treat Ferrers as he -might have done any other comrade; but the old frank friendliness was -gone. Come what might, Ferrers had put himself out of the circle of -those who loved to call themselves “Keeling’s men.” It was not merely -the charges he had brought, but the attitude of mind that they -revealed--the readiness to admit the possibility of a stain on Major -Keeling’s honour--which had made the difference. Sir Dugald’s anxious -cordiality and laborious attempts to make conversation on indifferent -topics confirmed the impression produced by the scarcely veiled -aversion of the other men the night of the dinner-party, and showed -Ferrers that he had committed the unpardonable sin of the frontier. -Many things could be forgiven, but not a want of loyalty to the -leader. From henceforth he was an outsider. - -Out of sheer pity for Penelope, Lady Haigh softened so far as to -second her husband’s efforts, and do her best to make the meal less -uncomfortable, but the harm was done. Ferrers had come in excited, -brimful of some news which he was anxious to tell, but withheld in -order that he might be pressed to tell it, until the constraint by -which he found himself surrounded sealed his lips. It was no better -when he was alone with Penelope afterwards. She did all in her power -to make him feel himself welcome, and questioned him on every point of -his journey, with the double object of convincing him of her interest -in him, and of keeping Major Keeling’s name out of the conversation. -It was far easier not to mention him at all than to hear him -belittled, and she knew Ferrers’ opinion of him by this time. But her -efforts to please her lover were vain, perhaps because of this very -reservation, and Ferrers expressed his disappointment to Colin as they -rode out of the town together. - -“It’s pleasant to feel that there’s some one who cares for one’s -news,” he remarked. “You could guess I had something to tell, couldn’t -you?” - -“I was sure you had news of some sort. Well, what is it?” - -“I gave Penelope a hint of it the other day, but she didn’t seem to -take any interest,” Ferrers grumbled on; “and to-day again--I said I’d -tell her about it if she’d ask me nicely, but she wouldn’t. There’s no -meeting you half-way with Pen; one has to make all the running -oneself. She doesn’t care what happens to me; but when I said that as -soon as we were married we would drop that fellow Haigh and his ugly -wife, she looked ready to cry.” - -“She and Lady Haigh are great friends,” said Colin, anxious to make -peace, “and they have both been very kind to her. You would not wish -her to be ungrateful, surely? But I haven’t heard your news yet.” - -“Ride as close to me as you can, then. I don’t want those sowars of -yours to hear. Well, then, my chance is in sight at last. I know where -to find Shir Hussein!” - -“The outlaw?” asked Colin, rather disappointed. - -“Of course. And I mean to catch him and his gang, and so leave -Khemistan in a blaze of glory. You shall have a share in it, because -you’re the only fellow that has treated me decently over this -business. The rest will look pretty blue when they hear about it.” - -“But where is he? Is his band a large one?” - -Ferrers looked round mysteriously. “A good deal bigger than most -people think. No wonder he has given us so much trouble! But he makes -his headquarters in one of the ruined forts in my district, not so far -from Shah Nawaz. The fact is, that’s why he has gone free so long--I -never thought of looking for him there. But one of my spies met me on -my way back from the river with the news, and the joke of it is that I -know the place. I camped there for a week once, trying to get some -shooting. Well, you see, since I know my way about there, we can do -with a much smaller force than would otherwise be needed. I shall have -to ask for some help from here, which I should hate if Porter or -Haigh, or Keeling himself, had to come too, but I shall only ask for a -small detachment with you in charge. Then we’ll astonish them all.” - -“But why don’t you want the Chief or any one to know about it?” - -“They’ll have to know that I want help to capture Shir Hussein, -unfortunately, but I don’t want them to know what a stiff job it is -until it’s over. Don’t you see that they would do me out of the credit -of it if they could? They’re jealous of me--horribly jealous--because -I happen to be the Commissioner’s nephew. Can I help it? Is it my -doing if he gets me a post somewhere else? I didn’t come here because -I liked the frontier--merely as a sort of favour to Old Harry--and if -I’m offered a chance of leaving it I won’t refuse, but I don’t want to -go as if I had been kicked out. Of course they would do anything -rather than let me end up with a blaze of fireworks, but I think we -can manage it in this way. Only mind you keep things dark, and make a -point of coming when I send for help.” - -“Am I to tell the Chief what you think of doing?” - -“Certainly not. He’s as bad as any of them, now that I’ve managed to -put his back up. It’s all his own fault, too. If he had been like some -men, one could have asked him long ago in a chaffing sort of way about -the suspicious facts that had come to one’s knowledge, and we should -have been saved a lot of trouble. You stand by me, and keep your mouth -shut, and we shall do it.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - INTO THE TERRIBLE LAND. - -It was not long before Ferrers’ request for an accession of force -reached Major Keeling, but it came at an unfortunate moment, for the -Commandant was just setting out in the opposite direction, taking with -him every man he could muster except those needed to guard the town. -News had arrived that a band of Nalapuri raiders had crossed the -frontier to the westward two days before, and as nothing more had been -heard of them, it was evident they were hiding in the hills and -waiting for an opportunity to swoop down and attack the labourers -engaged upon the new canal works. The various raids of the kind which -had occurred hitherto had been dealt with by the native police, but -having received timely warning of this organised and more formidable -incursion, Major Keeling meant to make an example of its promoters. -They should not cut up his coolies in future, however tempting and -defenceless the prey might appear. The matter was urgent, for delay -would enable the raiders either to accomplish their object, or, on -learning his intention, to make good their retreat over the frontier. -Once in their own country they need only separate and mingle among -their fellow-countrymen, who were all as villainous in looks and -character as themselves, and there would be no hope of tracking them. -Hence Major Keeling’s face was perturbed when he sent for Colin to his -office shortly before the hour fixed for starting. - -“I have just had a _chit_ from Ferrers, asking for a small -reinforcement in order to effect the capture of Shir Hussein, and -suggesting that you should be sent in charge of it,” he said. “Had you -any idea that he had found out where he was?” - -“He mentioned to me that he had reason to believe Shir Hussein had -taken refuge in a fort which he knew very well, sir.” - -“And that was when he was here the other day? Most extraordinary of -him not to have said anything to me.” - -“I think he meant to reconnoitre the place, sir, and see how large a -force would be needed, before he said anything about it.” - -“Lest I should rush in and carry off the honour, I suppose? And he -promised to ask for you--and you are wild to go? It won’t do, Ross. He -can’t have reconnoitred the place to much purpose, I fear, from his -letter. He talks about Shir Hussein’s ‘sheltering in a ruined fort,’ -and ‘hopes to turn him out of it.’ Curiously enough, independent -information on the subject reached me only this morning, from which it -appears that Shir Hussein has between two and three hundred men with -him, and that he has repaired his ‘ruined fort’ in a very workmanlike -way.” - -“Perhaps his strength is exaggerated, sir?” pleaded Colin, seeing -Ferrers’ chance of distinction fading away; but Major Keeling shook -his head. - -“The information comes from one of my most trusted spies. No; I should -certainly have dealt with Shir Hussein myself if I had not been -starting on this business. How he can have managed to support such a -following in that district is most mysterious, and argues a good deal -of slackness on Ferrers’ part.” - -“I--I think perhaps he was outwitted, sir. I mean that he seems to -have looked for the man everywhere except comparatively near at hand.” - -“Possibly; but he ought not to have been outwitted. Well, Ross, you -see that it’s out of the question for you to go. Shir Hussein and his -fort won’t fly away, and I’ll take them in hand when this -raiding-party is disposed of, Ferrers co-operating from Shah Nawaz. -No; it’s his discovery, after all, and he shall have the credit of it -and be in command. If I go, it will be as a spectator.” - -“But they might escape first, sir--when they know they are discovered, -and that messengers are going backwards and forwards between here and -Shah Nawaz, I mean--and Ferrers will lose his chance.” - -“I can’t sacrifice my coolies that Ferrers may distinguish himself. -But look here. I will call out the doctor and his Hospital Fencibles -to guard the town again, and you shall take the detachment I was -intending to leave here, and join Ferrers. Then he will be strong -enough to keep the fellows from breaking away as you suggest. It’s -really important that they should not vanish and give us all the -trouble of looking for them over again. But mind, there is to be no -fighting. The troops--your detachment and Ferrers’ own--are to be used -purely for keeping guard over the approaches to Shir Hussein’s fort -and preventing his escape. My orders are stringent--I will send them -in writing as well as by word of mouth--that no attack is to be made -on the fort until I come up with the reinforcements. I know Ferrers -would be perfectly ready to run his head against a stone wall, -expecting to batter it down. Perhaps he might, but I distrust his -prudence, and I won’t have the town left open to an attack from Shir -Hussein. You understand?” - -“Yes, sir,” said Colin dolefully. He knew by intuition that not even -Major Keeling’s chivalrous offer of self-suppression would make his -orders palatable to Ferrers, and his foresight was justified when he -arrived at Shah Nawaz with his small detachment, and found the whole -place in a turmoil of preparation. Ferrers was first incredulous, then -wrathful. - -“Didn’t I tell you how it would be?” he cried furiously. “Keeling is -determined that I shan’t leave the frontier with flying colours. It’s -nothing but mean, miserable jealousy on his part--and you side with -him. I expected it of the others, but you----!” - -“But your force is not large enough. Major Keeling believes that Shir -Hussein has over two hundred men with him.” - -“As if I didn’t know that! A surprise would make it all right.” - -“But he has repaired his fort, so the Chief says.” - -“He has made a new gate, which I am going to blow in, and piled up a -few of the stones which had fallen down. Do you think I don’t know -more about it than Keeling, when I reconnoitred up to the very gate -two nights ago, and not a soul stirred?” - -“If you had only said so in your letter! He thought you underrated the -difficulties.” - -“You fool! If I had told him all I knew about the strength of the -place, would he ever have sanctioned my attacking it? I thought I had -made that right, at any rate, and then this cursed spy of his turns -up! What business has he sending spies into my district?--to spy upon -me, I suppose, and make sure I get no chance of distinguishing -myself.” - -“You are unjust, George. He will let you have all the credit when he -brings up the reinforcements. You are to be in command, and he will -only be a spectator.” - -“You are too green. Don’t you know his dodge of getting these chaps to -surrender by the magic of his name? Where should I be then? If they -surrender, he gets the credit; if they don’t, he’ll get the fighting. -You don’t catch him sitting still and looking on, or joining as a -volunteer under me.” - -“I really think that was what he meant, and you couldn’t expect it of -any one else,” said Colin thoughtfully. - -“And I don’t expect it of him, you may be sure. I am going to carry -out my original plan, and surprise the fort to-night.” - -“But that would be disobeying orders!” - -“What do I care for orders? It’s a plot to rob me of my last chance of -distinction while I’m here. Dare you look me in the face and say it -isn’t? Porter and Haigh and the rest hate me like poison, and all -toady the Chief, so it’s no wonder that he tries to push them on, and -not me. But I won’t stand it.” - -“Then you must attack with only your own men--not mine.” - -“What! are you afraid?” There was an unpleasant smile on Ferrers’ -face. “Then you shall stay in command here, and I’ll take over your -men for the occasion.” - -“No, you won’t. They are under my orders, not yours.” - -Ferrers flung an ugly word at him, but could not alter his -determination, and all might have been well if Colin had not felt -moved to improve the occasion. “Don’t think I don’t sympathise with -you,” he said. “I know how hard it must be, but I can assure you -Keeling means well by you. After all, it is only keeping our men on -outpost duty for a day or two, and having the fight then.” - -“No,” said Ferrers earnestly--his mood seemed to have changed--“that’s -not all. I know the place too well to think we can guard all its -outlets. Shir Hussein and his men will simply make themselves scarce, -and we shall lose them. Colin, I’m going to put the glass to my blind -eye.” Colin moved uneasily. “Isn’t it Keeling’s boast that he commands -men, not machines--that he can trust his officers to disobey an order -if circumstances make it desirable?” Colin gave a doubtful assent, and -Ferrers went on, “I call upon you to second me. If you are afraid of -the responsibility, stay behind here; but unless you are bent upon my -death, you will let me have your men. We shall never have such an -opportunity again. By to-morrow morning Shir Hussein will have heard -you are here, and the chance of a surprise will be over. To-night he -knows nothing; there is no watch kept. I have the powder and the fuse -all ready for blowing in the gate, and once inside, we shall have them -at our mercy. Dare you risk the responsibility and come?” - -“I do. We will come,” said Colin, carried away by his friend’s unusual -earnestness, and Ferrers went out well pleased. His preparations were -in such a forward state that they had not suffered from his temporary -withdrawal, and at the appointed time all was ready for the -night-march. It was his intention to reach the fort about an hour -before dawn, and this part of his plans was carried out admirably. -After posting Colin and the larger portion of his force in readiness -to rush forward as soon as the smoke cleared away, Ferrers himself -went forward with one of the native officers to place the powder-bag -against the gate. It was impossible to follow their movements with the -eye, but as Colin gazed into the darkness, there came a crash, a -glare, a blinding explosion, shouts of dismay. He gave the word to the -eager men behind him, and they rushed forward with a cheer. But before -they were half-way across the space which separated them from the fort -gate, Colin became aware that bullets were whistling round him, that -men behind him were falling. Could it be that the men left in reserve -with their carbines loaded to keep down any fire that might be opened -from the wall were firing too low? No, the bullets came from before, -not from behind. As Colin realised this, he tripped over something and -fell into a hole, and was followed by several of his men. Before they -could extricate themselves, there was a tremendous rush from in front, -and a band of swordsmen, cutting and slashing with their heavy -tulwars, threw themselves upon the disordered force. The men behind -durst not fire, for fear of hitting their comrades; Colin, struggling -vehemently to his feet at last, was cut down and trampled upon; and if -a wild figure, with face streaming with blood, and hair partially -burnt off, had not burst into the fray, scarcely one of the -storming-party would have escaped. But Ferrers, who had been flung -senseless to a distance when the burst of firing from the wall--which -proved that it was he and not Shir Hussein who was surprised--had -exploded the gunpowder he was carrying and killed his companion, was -able to rally his force, and even press the enemy’s swordsmen back to -the gate. There was no prospect now of pushing in after them; all he -could do was to send orders to the men held in reserve to fire at any -flash of a matchlock from the wall, while he extricated Colin’s body -from the hole torn in the ground by the explosion, and his men carried -off their wounded comrades. The dead must be left behind--disgrace -unprecedented in the history of the Khemistan Horse. To retire on the -reserve, then to retreat slowly, with frequent halts to drive back the -pursuers, to the spot where the horses had been left, and to return -with sorely diminished numbers to Shah Nawaz, was all that could be -done. Had Shir Hussein chosen to follow up his advantage there would -have been little hope of defending the place successfully; but the -tradition of the invincibility of the regiment stood it in good stead -in this dark hour, and Ferrers was able to despatch a messenger to -Alibad, and then turn to and help the native hospital assistant who -was doing his best for Colin’s ghastly wounds. - -The news of the repulse created great excitement at Alibad; and as -soon as Dr Tarleton had sent off another messenger to Major Keeling, -he summoned Lady Haigh and Penelope and as many other non-combatants -as could be accommodated there to take refuge in the gaol, while he -armed his volunteers and appointed them their stations. But all fear -of an attack was at an end on the following morning, when Major -Keeling and his force swept like a tornado through the town, flushed -with victory over the Nalapuri invaders, and burning to avenge the -most serious check which the Khemistan Horse had met with since its -first formation. Kīlin Sahib had roared like a bull, the messenger -said, when he heard the news, and his face was black towards the -officers who sought to dissuade him from setting out at once for Shah -Nawaz. The men had had a severe fight and a long march, they reminded -him; to which he replied that the Khemistan Horse had often met with -hard knocks before, but had never retired. He was prevailed upon at -last to allow the force a night’s rest; but before daylight he was -parading the men, and selecting the freshest and best mounted to -accompany him, while the others were to escort the prisoners and spoil -to Alibad, and remain to guard the town. Sir Dugald was sent on ahead -to pick up two of his field-pieces, and he rejoined the force with -them as it passed through Alibad, bound first for Shah Nawaz, and then -for Shir Hussein’s stronghold. - -Shir Hussein was a man who knew when he was beaten. His first -overwhelming success was entirely unexpected, for, once run to earth, -he had only hoped to make his fortress a hard nut to crack, and keep -the Shah Nawaz detachment occupied with it for some time, while he -stood out for better terms. When he found all his approaches commanded -by marksmen posted among the rocks, and learned that it was the height -of folly for a man to show so much as his head above the parapet, he -congratulated himself on having made such an impression upon the foe -that they had decided upon a blockade rather than an assault, and made -up his mind that he could hold out for weeks. But when a small group -of men and two disagreeable-looking objects made their appearance at -the top of a precipitous cliff, the steepness of which seemed to -suggest that wings would be needed to get guns up there, and a far -from charming variety of round-shot, shell, and grape began to fall -inside his enclosure, Shir Hussein followed the example of the -historic coon, and intimated that he would surrender without further -persuasion. The resistance had been much too brief to satisfy the -outraged feelings of the regiment and its Commandant, but it afforded -these some relief to blow up the fort, and tumble the shattered -fragments down into the valley. Major Keeling ordered a halt at Shah -Nawaz on the way back, that he might install Lieutenant Jones there a -second time in place of Ferrers, whom he had already suspended; but -found to his disgust that there was no punishment involved in this, -since Ferrers had just received his appointment as envoy to Gamara. -The only thing to be done was to cold-shoulder him out of the province -as quickly as possible. - -“Envoy or no envoy,” said Major Keeling savagely to Lady Haigh in a -rare moment of confidence, “I’d have court-martialled him if it hadn’t -been for the private grudge between us. You can’t go persecuting the -man who’s cut you out.” - - - -Ferrers’ departure from Alibad, hurried and almost ignominious as it -was, was not wholly without its compensations, for Penelope and he -were drawn nearer together than ever before by their common anxiety -about Colin. Ferrers was so genuinely anxious and distressed for his -friend that he could think of nothing else, and his farewells to -Penelope consisted almost entirely of charges to take care of Colin, -and to let him know exactly how he was getting on. Penelope was not -likely to resent this preoccupation--indeed, she caught herself -reflecting what a sympathising friend she might have been to Ferrers -if he had not insisted upon being regarded as a lover,--and she parted -from him with kinder feelings than she would have thought possible -before. Thus he started on his journey to the river, whence he was to -cross the desert to the eastward and to travel to Calcutta, so as to -receive his orders and credentials from the Government before he -betook himself beyond the bounds of civilisation. Major Keeling saw -him depart with unconcealed pleasure, and promptly ordered up from the -river to replace him a young officer on whom he had had his eye for -some time, sowing the seeds of future trouble by seconding him from -his regiment and appointing him to the Khemistan Horse on his own -authority. - -As for Ferrers, he discovered very soon that his mission was not -likely to be either an easy or a particularly glorious one. When the -unfortunate Lieutenant Whybrow had disappeared, the Government -expressed its official regret at his probable fate, and seemed to -think it had done all that could be expected of it. But Whybrow had -possessed relations and many friends, and these were so unreasonable -as to hold the opinion that the Government was responsible for the -lives of its accredited agents. They induced a section of the home -press to take up the subject, and there was something like an -agitation about it in London. Finding that it was not to be left -alone, the Government decided on a compromise. Nothing but -overwhelming physical force could bring the fanatics of Gamara to -their knees, and this could only have been applied by an army, under -the command of Sir Henry Lennox or an officer of his calibre, whose -calculated rashness might, like Faith, “laugh at impossibilities, and -say, It shall be done.” But no one would have ventured to propose such -an expedition at this time, and it was therefore determined to try -moral suasion once more. Ferrers was supplied with the means of -obtaining abundance of money (which was to be rigorously accounted -for), but denied an escort; instructed to obtain the release of -Whybrow, if he was still alive, by all possible means, but strictly -forbidden to indulge in threats which might seem to pledge the -Government to take action. To most people the affair seemed hopeless -from the first; but Ferrers’ failing was not a lack of -self-confidence, and he felt that he had it in him to secure success -where other men would only suffer signal defeat. - -His journey to Gamara seemed to justify him in this opinion, for it -was a triumph of what a later age has learnt to call bluff. Taking -with him only his personal servants, he attached himself, for the -greater part of the way, to a trading caravan, and speedily made -himself the chief person in it. It could only be some very important -man, with unlimited power behind him, who would dare to adopt such an -insolent demeanour, and bully his travelling companions so -unconcernedly, thought the merchants. Somewhat sulkily they accepted -him at his own valuation, and the marches and halting-places came to -be settled by reference to him. He it was also who rebuked the guides -when it was necessary, bringing those haughty mountaineers to reason -by displaying a proficiency in many-tongued abuse which astonished -them, and who forced the headmen of inhospitable villages to turn out -of their own houses for his accommodation. True, the merchants -sometimes looked forward with misgiving to the next time they would -traverse these regions, when there would be no champion to help them; -but such a splendid opportunity of paying off old grudges was not to -be let slip, and the caravan led by the overbearing Farangi was long a -proverb on the route. - -When the mountains had been crossed, and the irrigated plains of -Gamara were in view, the caravan broke up into several portions, and -Ferrers pursued his way to the city in company with one of these. His -heart was high, for his reputation had preceded him, and the villagers -received him with marked respect. It was clear, he thought, that the -men who went before him had failed by going to work too gently, and -truckling to the prejudices of the people. The right thing was to go -on one’s way regardless of opposition, to browbeat the haughty and -meet the insolent with an insolence greater than their own, and in -general to act as no sane man, alone and without support in a hostile -country, could be expected to act. The natives, like his -fellow-travellers, would conclude that he had some mysterious reserve -of strength, or he could never be so bold. Thus he saw without -misgiving the distant masses of green which marked the neighbourhood -of the city, and rode calmly along the narrow dikes, which were the -only roads between the sunken fields, without a thought of turning -back while there was time. Dimly seen through their screen of trees, -the brick towers and earthen ramparts of Gamara had nothing very -terrible about them, and was not Ferrers entering the place as an -accredited envoy, with permission from the Khan to reside there until -the business on which he came was done? Even the contemptible little -dispute into which he was forced by the action of the officials at the -gate, who wished to make him dismount from his horse, did not trouble -him. What did it signify that the law of Gamara forbade a Christian to -ride in her streets? He, at least, was going to ride where he liked, -and ride he did. It was when he had passed triumphantly through the -gate that he was first conscious of a sense of uneasiness, of a -feeling that a net was closing round him. The city boasted flourishing -bazaars, and streets bordered by canals of clear water and shaded by -trees, but his way did not lie through them. Possibly by reason of his -self-assertion at the gate, or merely in order to avoid the crowds -which thronged the business part of the town, he was led through the -dullest bylanes of the residential quarter. The narrow alleys through -which he passed looked absolutely blank, the houses on either side -presenting nothing but high bare walls to the public eye. Their roofs -were flat, and such windows as there were looked into the inner -courtyards. It was like passing a never-ending succession of -prison-walls with occasional doors. Where the line was broken by a -mosque, which generally served also as a college, there was some -little relief in the shape of stately dome and lofty minaret, and -occasional dashes of colour produced by the use of enamelled tiles; -but it gave forth a throng of young fanatics clad in black, who made -outrageous remarks about the Kafir, which were as audible to their -object as they were intended to be. For convenience’ sake, and to -avoid attracting a crowd round him by his mere presence, Ferrers had -made the journey in native dress; but he had not attempted to alter -his appearance in any other respect, and his fair colouring rendered -him distinguishable at once. - -Having presented his credentials to the favourite who occupied the -position of the Khan’s foreign minister for the nonce, he was received -with suitable compliments, and assured that his arrival had been -expected, and a house and servants prepared for him. He was half -afraid that this house might prove to be within the circuit of the -inner wall enclosing the hill on which the Khan’s palace and the -public offices stood, in which case he would have anticipated the -possibility of foul play, but it turned out to be one of the ordinary -houses of the town. It was furnished sufficiently, according to -oriental ideas, with carpets and cushions; the servants in it accepted -with remarkably little friction the direction of those he had brought -with him; and when he had seen to the securing of the door opening -into the street, he felt that what looked like a prison from without -might be a fortress from within. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - A LAND OF DARKNESS AND THE SHADOW OF DEATH. - -After a night’s rest Ferrers prepared to pursue the inquiry on which -he had come, but he found that the blank walls of the city were only a -type of the passive opposition to be offered to his efforts. The mob -of the place was so fanatical and so threatening that, as he persisted -in maintaining his right to ride, he found it advisable to comply with -the request of the Khan’s advisers, and only show himself when he was -to be granted an audience at the palace or the house of one of the -ministers. Visitors he had none--none at least of the type that in -most oriental cities delights in calling upon a new-comer and spending -long hours in eliciting all manner of useless information. Gamara was -the scene of a perpetual reign of terror, exercised from above by the -Khan, and from below by the mob, reinforced by the hordes of -theological students, and between these two forces the mere moderate -man was crushed out of existence or frightened into silence. A whisper -against the orthodoxy of even a high official would send a raging -crowd to attack his house or to tear him limb from limb in the public -street, and the truth of the rumour would only be inquired into -afterwards, if at all. The Khan maintained his unquestioned ascendancy -by outdoing all his subjects in their zeal for orthodoxy, which had no -connection with morals, and by repressing that zeal with atrocious -severity when it clashed with his own wishes. Mob-law offered a very -useful means of getting rid of undesirable persons; but one or two -stern examples had been needed to teach the mob not to proceed to -extremities unless they were smiled upon by the palace. The presence -of a Christian in the sacred city was a standing defiance of its -inhabitants, and it was only the drawn scimitars of the Khan’s -bodyguard that protected Ferrers from certain death as he rode to and -from the palace in full uniform. - -There was a community of Jews in the place, and it was from this that -his unofficial visitors were drawn--scared, furtive men, distinguished -from the true believers by their dress, who skulked along back-lanes, -and entered the house by a private door in terror of their lives, but -emboldened to the enterprise by the hope of turning a more or less -honest penny. They were anxious to be Ferrers’ agents in communicating -secretly with personages whom he could not directly approach, and, in -general, to do any dirty work that might be requisite. One of them, -more courageous than the rest, actually offered to disguise Ferrers -and take him about the city, but he felt compelled to refuse the -offer, much against his will. The man was only too probably a spy, and -what could be easier than to lead the stranger, ignorant of his -whereabouts, into the precincts of one of the mosques, and raise the -cry of “Kafir!” after which the Indian Government would have to lament -the loss of another envoy who had mysteriously disappeared. It was -very likely that the missing Whybrow had been trapped in some such -way, but Ferrers was beginning to doubt whether exact information as -to his fate would ever be obtained. The one indisputable fact was that -he had disappeared, and not he alone, but his servants, horses, arms, -and equipment, as completely as if they had never existed. The last of -his written reports which had reached Calcutta was dated half a day’s -march from the city, and in it he said that in view of his projected -entry thither he thought it well to send off beforehand the results of -his explorations up to this point. From inquiries made on the spot, -Ferrers was certain that he had left this camping-ground and gone -towards the city, but there his information stopped. No one could or -would testify to the lost man’s having passed the gates, though rumour -was rife on the subject of his doings and his fate. Ferrers’ -emissaries brought him a different report every day. Whybrow had been -turned back at the gates and had returned to India; he had been -arrested on entering; he had been honourably received by the Khan and -provided with a house and escort; he had performed his business and -gone away in peace; he had been arrested during an audience at the -palace and straightway beheaded; he had been torn to pieces in the -streets; he had turned Mohammedan and been admitted to the Khan’s -bodyguard; a mutilated body alleged to be his had been subjected to -disgusting indignities at the place of execution,--all these mutually -contradictory reports were submitted, apparently in perfect good -faith, by the very same men, but they shed no certain light on the -fact of Whybrow’s disappearance. - -Ferrers had recourse to bribery. Presents judiciously distributed, by -means of his Jewish agents, among the Khan’s chief officers, brought -him the honour of an audience of each of the gentlemen so favoured, -and various interesting confidences. Whybrow Sahib had never entered -the city; he had died in it from natural causes; he had left it and -started safely on his return journey to India,--it seemed a pity that -the worshipful hypocrites had not taken counsel together beforehand to -tell one story and stick to it. Ferrers gathered only one more grain -of fact after all his expenditure, namely, that Whybrow had actually -been in Gamara. If he had not, there would not have been such anxiety -to assert that he had left it in safety. But nothing of this sort was -officially acknowledged. At each successive audience the Khan inquired -blandly whether Firoz Sahib had yet been able to learn anything as to -his friend’s fate, and even condescended to remark further that it was -most extraordinary a stranger should be able to disappear so -completely just outside Gamara, and leave no trace. - -Thus time went on, and Ferrers began to feel that he might remain in -Gamara for the rest of his days and get no further. Meanwhile, the -failure of his efforts and the restricted life he led were telling -upon his nerves and temper, and he began to say to himself that if -there was much more prevarication he would beard the Khan in his very -palace, and give him the lie to his face. When he had reached this -point, an excuse for the outburst was not long in offering itself. One -of his agents came to him one day with even more than the usual -secrecy, and produced from the inmost recesses of his garments -something small and heavy, wrapped up many times in a piece of cotton -cloth. It was a miniature Colt’s revolver--then a comparatively new -invention--beautifully finished and mounted in silver, and bearing on -a small silver plate the letters L. W., the initials of Leonard -Whybrow. Questioned fiercely as to where he had found it, the man -confessed by degrees that he had stolen it from the palace--“borrowed -it” was his way of expressing the fact. It had been in the charge of -the keeper of the Khan’s armoury, with whom he had some acquaintance, -and recognising from its make that it was a Bilati (European) pistol -of a new kind, he had secured it when the keeper’s back was turned, -intending to return it to its place at the earliest opportunity after -Ferrers had seen it. He further put in a claim for the repayment of a -sum of money which had been needed to induce the keeper to turn his -back at the right moment, and urged that the pistol should be given -back to him at once, or both the keeper and he would lose their heads, -since the Khan often amused himself by firing away the ammunition -which had come into his possession at the same time as the weapon. To -this, however, Ferrers refused to accede, paying the money with an -alacrity which made the agent wish he had asked double the sum, but -refusing to surrender the pistol. He was to have an audience of the -Khan on the morrow, and he would confront him with this proof of his -treachery. - -The next day came, and Ferrers rode to the palace with his usual -escort. The audience proceeded on the ordinary lines; but when the -Khan asked the stereotyped question as to the envoy’s success in his -mission, he did not receive the usual answer. Ferrers took the -revolver from his sash, held it up to the light, pointed out the -significance of the letters, and threw it on the floor at the Khan’s -feet. Then, without another word, he went back to his place and sat -down, but not in the cramped position prescribed by Eastern etiquette, -for instead of sitting on his heels, he turned the soles of his feet -towards the Khan--thus offering him the worst insult that could be -devised--and waited calmly for the result. The court was in an uproar -immediately; but the Khan, pale with anger, contented himself with -announcing that the audience was at an end, and dismissed the -assembly. Perfectly satisfied with the result of his _coup_, -purposeless though it was, Ferrers rode home with much elation. The -news of his action had quickly spread from the palace into the town, -and his path was beset by an angry mob, who threw stones until they -were charged by the escort; but he felt an absolute pleasure in facing -them. The long succession of insults heaped upon him had been more -than revenged at last. - -As he neared the house, it occurred to him for the first time that it -would have been prudent to be prepared to take his departure -immediately after defying the Khan. His servants should have been -warned to pack up as soon as he started for the palace, and to await -him with the laden horses at the gate nearest to the house. Even now -it was not too late. He might ride straight to the gate himself, -sending word to the servants to bring whatever they could snatch up -and follow him, or he might go to the house and fetch them. This was -the best plan, for he did not like the thought of abandoning all his -possessions, and he almost decided to adopt it. It was vexatious to -appear to run away, of course, but he could scarcely doubt there was -danger in remaining. He had just turned to the officer in command of -the escort, intending to request his company as far as the gate, when -a messenger from the palace clattered along the street and dashed up, -shouting his message as he came. In the most insulting terms Firoz -Sahib was bidden take his servants and depart from Gamara immediately. -The Khan’s safe-conduct would protect him to the gates, and no -farther. The effect on Ferrers was instantaneous. Submit to be ordered -out of the city--driven forth with insults--never! - -“Tell his Highness that I leave Gamara to-morrow, and at my own time,” -he said to the messenger, in tones quite audible to the crowd which -had collected. “Am I a beggar to be driven forth with words?” - -The crowd listened with something like awe, and the messenger, -apparently impressed, made answer that he would return to the palace -and represent to the Khan that the envoy had had no time to make -preparation for the journey, and could not, therefore, start at once. -The officer of the escort, seeming to be satisfied that the plea would -be allowed, asked whether Firoz Sahib would like a guard left in the -house for the night, in case of an attack by the mob; but Ferrers -declined, with a shrewd idea that the danger might be as great from -the one as from the other. Remarking that he would be ready to start -on the following afternoon, he was about to enter the house, when an -elderly woman, not of the best character, with whom he had several -times exchanged a smile and a jest, looked out at her doorway on the -opposite side of the narrow street. - -“When the wolf sees the trap closing upon him, he does not wait to -escape till it is down,” she cried, with a shrill burst of laughter, -and Ferrers recognised that a timely warning was intended. But he set -his teeth hard. Depart in obedience to the Khan’s insulting mandate he -would not, even though he had been prepared to start at once before -receiving it. It seemed to him, however, that it would not materially -compromise his dignity if he stole a march on the authorities, and -made a dash for the gate with his servants as soon as it was opened in -the morning. They would not expect him to start until the time he had -mentioned, and the mob would not have opportunity to collect in -sufficient numbers to bar the passage of several resolute, well-armed -men. He gave his orders accordingly; but the process of packing up was -interrupted by the servants belonging to the house, who collected in -an angry group, and demanded loudly to be given their wages and -allowed to depart. The house and all in it were marked for -destruction, they said, and why should they be sacrificed to the -madness of the Kafir? - -“The rats desert the sinking ship,” said Ferrers grimly; but he paid -the men their wages, and allowed them to steal out separately by the -private door, each hoping to lose himself in the labyrinth of narrow -lanes, and so elude the vengeance of the authorities until he could -find refuge with his friends. One of the men Ferrers had brought from -India also petitioned to be allowed to take his chance in this way, -and lest his presence in the house should be an element of weakness, -he was suffered to depart. The rest obeyed in silence the orders they -received. They could not understand their master’s proceedings, but -they knew well that all Sahibs were mad, and that it was expedient to -humour them even at their maddest. Moreover, this particular Sahib had -brought them through so many dangers already, apparently by virtue of -his very madness, that they felt a kind of confidence in him, and -provisions were prepared and loads made ready for an early start on -the morrow--the morrow which, for all but one in the house, was never -to come. - -The street was quiet when Ferrers went his rounds before going to bed, -but he posted a sentry at the door and another at the postern, lest an -attempt should be made to break in. He had little fear of an attack -while he was behind stone walls, however; it was the ride through the -city to the gate which he really dreaded. But in the night he was -roused by the clank of metal: some one had dropped a weapon of some -sort on a stone floor. Hastily catching up his sword, he seized his -revolver and rushed out into the courtyard, to descry dimly against -the starry sky a man climbing over the wall which separated his roof -from that of the next house, and dropping down. Before he had time to -wonder whether the man was alone or had been preceded by others, he -was borne down by a sudden rush from the dark corners of the -courtyard. The revolver was struck from his hand, his sword was -wrenched away, and though he fought valiantly with his fists, he was -tripped up by a cunning wrestler and thrown to the ground, and there -bound hand and foot with marvellous celerity. Without a moment’s pause -his assailants lifted him and carried him to the door, where they tied -him upon a horse which was waiting. Hitherto he had been absolutely -dazed. Not a word had been uttered, not a sound made since that first -clang which had awakened him; and while the men were evidently armed, -they had been careful not to wound him, though he had caught sight of -more than one dead body in the courtyard and the passage. The very -stillness roused him at last to coherent thought. There was not a soul -in the street, not a ray of light nor the creak of a cautiously opened -door from the blank houses on either side. He knew the truth now. As -Whybrow had disappeared, so he was to disappear, without a sound or -cry to attract the attention of the prudent dwellers in the -neighbourhood. The bodies of his servants and all traces of their fate -would be removed, his horses and possessions conveyed away before -daybreak, and only the empty house would be left, and the usual -sickening uncertainty as to one more envoy’s fate. And what would that -fate be? His blood ran cold at the thought, but it nerved him to one -supreme effort. This street, after many windings, ended at the city -wall; if he could once reach that point, he might scale the sloping -earthen rampart and succeed in escaping, destitute of everything and -in a country swarming with enemies, but with life and honour left him. -Gathering all his strength, he burst one of the cords that held him, -and flung himself upon the men nearest him, fighting hopelessly with -his bound hands. For a moment astonishment made the group give way; -but before he could free himself further, one of them, grasping the -situation, struck him on the head with a club, and he dropped -senseless on the horse’s neck. - -When he recovered consciousness he was lying on a stone floor. His -hands were free, but heavy fetters were round his ankles, and these -were connected by a chain to which was attached a heavy weight. He -could drag himself slowly about, but to move fast or far was -impossible. He felt about his prison; it was all of stone, small and -filthy, but dry, and from this, and the fact that a gleam of light -came through an aperture near the top of one of the walls, he gathered -that he was what might be considered a favoured prisoner. He was in -the dungeons of Gamara, which were a name of terror throughout Asia, -but not in one of the horrible underground cells. Not that this -softened his feelings towards the gaolers. Escape was out of the -question, but failing that, his mind fastened itself on the -possibility of a speedy death, accompanied preferably by as much -damage to his captors as he could succeed in effecting. What was -needed was a weapon of some sort. He did not expect to find furniture -in the dungeon, but he hunted about for some time in the hope of -lighting upon a loose stone, or even a bone from some predecessor’s -rations. Nothing of the kind offering itself, he felt about for a -jagged edge in the wall, and at last found one, not too far from the -floor. Crouching beside it, he lifted the chain attached to the -weight, and began to use the rough stone as a file. He worked away -with frenzied eagerness, though his hands were soon streaming with -blood, and the cramped position caused him intense agony. His mind had -no room for anything but the one idea, the obtaining of a weapon. At -last his task was accomplished--the link gave way. He was free from -the weight, though his feet were still fastened together by a chain -only some eight inches long. He tried to work on this next, but in -vain, as he could not get the chain into such a position as to reach -his file with it. But he had his weapon, and he lifted it with -difficulty and placed it where he thought it would be most useful. -Then he took up a position behind the door and waited. - -At last there were sounds outside, and the door creaked slowly open. A -man’s head appeared, looking round in surprise and alarm for the -prisoner. By a tremendous effort, Ferrers raised the weight as the -gaoler advanced into the cell, and brought it down on his head. He -fell with a crash, and an earthen vessel of water which he had been -carrying was shivered on the floor. Ferrers had formed some vague plan -of dressing himself in the gaoler’s clothes and taking possession of -his keys, but this was now out of the question, for there was a sound -of voices and a rush of steps towards his cell. He drew back into the -shadow, intending to knock down the first man that entered as he had -done the gaoler, but his temporary strength was gone. His arms refused -to raise the weight more than an inch or two. With a cry of rage he -dropped it, and charged furiously into the group of men who had been -attracted by the noise, and were trying to screw up one another’s -courage to enter the cell. One or two of them went down before his -blows, others fled at the sight of the apparition, but there remained -two who flung themselves upon Ferrers and grappled with him. Weakened -by fasting and the blow he had received, he yet fought manfully, but -they were slowly and surely forcing him back towards the cell, when -one of them caught his foot in the chain. All three went down, Ferrers -undermost, and once more he lost consciousness, the last thing he -heard being a warning cry, “Do not kill him: it is his Highness’s -order.” - -When he awoke next he was again in his cell, but now his hands were -also fettered, and he was chained to a ring in the wall. The death he -desired had eluded him, and he was worse off than before. He was stiff -and sore all over after his fight, and his head gave him excruciating -pain. At his side were a cake of rough bread and a very moderate -allowance of water, and he seized upon them greedily, then lapsed into -semi-consciousness. For an unknown length of time after this he lived -in a kind of delirium, in which past, present, and future were -inextricably mingled in his mind, and his only clear feeling was a -vehement hatred of any one who came near him. When his brain became -less confused he gave himself up to imagining means of gratifying this -hatred, walking ceaselessly backwards and forwards in the semicircle -of two or three paces’ radius, which was all that his chains would -allow. His new gaoler never ventured within his reach, and put his -food where he could only touch it by dint of strenuous efforts, and -the difficulty was to induce him to come closer. But the words he had -heard recurred to Ferrers’ half-maddened brain, and when the gaoler -entered the cell one day, expecting to find the prisoner walking about -and muttering to himself as usual, he saw only a confused heap by the -wall. He called, but received no answer, and in terror lest the Khan -should have been baulked of his revenge by the death of his captive, -ventured near enough to touch him. The moment he came within reach -Ferrers sprang up with a howl like that of a wild beast, and, joining -his two fettered hands, smote him on the head with all his strength. -The man fell; but the authorities had learnt wisdom from the fate of -his predecessor, and Ferrers’ triumph was shortlived. Several men -rushed in from the passage, dragged out the gaoler, and, turning upon -the prisoner, beat him so cruelly with whips of hide that he sank on -the ground bleeding and exhausted. When they left him at last, it was -with a promise that he should taste the bastinado on the morrow, and, -unhappily for him, his mind was now sufficiently clear to understand -all that this implied. - -All day he lay more dead than alive, and when the door of his cell -opened gently, hours before the usual time, he had not strength to -look up, even when a light was flashed in his eyes. It was not until a -leathern bottle was held to his lips, and a voice said, “Drink this, -sahib,” that he awoke from his lethargy, to see a well-known face -bending over him. - -“What, is it you, Mirza?” he asked feebly. - -“Hush, sahib; I am come to save you,” was the whispered answer. “Only -do what I tell you, or both our lives will pay for it.” - -Ferrers drank obediently, and as he drank his strength seemed to -return. He sat passive while the Mirza unlocked the fetters from his -ankles, and filed through the chain which fastened him to the wall, -but the thought in his mind was that now he would run through the -prison and kill any one he met. He felt strong enough to face an army. -But the Mirza’s hand was on his arm as he sprang up. - -“Nay, sahib, we must go quietly. Put on the turban and garments I have -here, and hide your hands in the sleeves, for it would take too long -to file the fetters from your wrists now. Then follow me without a -word. You are my disciple, and under a vow of silence. If we meet any -one, I will speak for both.” - -The authoritative tone had its effect in calming Ferrers, and he -obeyed, putting on the clothes as best he could with his trembling, -fettered hands, assisted by the Mirza, and pulling the loose sleeves -down to hide his wrists. Then the Mirza took up his lantern and -beckoned him to follow, fastening the door of the cell noiselessly as -soon as they were both outside. They passed along a corridor with -cell-doors on either side, and then through a kind of guardroom, where -several men were lounging, either asleep or only half-awake. These -saluted the Mirza, and looked with something like curiosity at his -disciple, making no objection to their passing. Then came a courtyard -which was evidently that of the common prison, for from a high-walled -building on one side came shouts and groans and cries and wild -laughter, making night more hideous even than day, and the ground was -strewn thickly with bones and all kinds of filth. The Mirza did not -turn towards the gateway, but to a corner near it, where he opened a -small door and secured it carefully again when Ferrers had passed -through. Then he led the way up a flight of stone steps and through -various passages, and finally brought his guest into a room fairly -furnished and--joy of joys!--clean. - -“This house is yours, sahib,” he said, turning to him. “There are -slaves at your orders, a bath, food, clothes. I myself will dress your -wounds, since there might be danger in calling in a physician from the -town, but here for the present you are safe.” - -Ferrers looked round him like one in a dream. The thing was absolutely -incredible after the squalor and brutality, the ineffectual struggles, -of the days and nights since he had been captured. “I--I don’t -understand,” he said feebly. “I thought you and I had quarrelled.” - -“Am I one to forget the kindness of years in the hasty words of a -night?” asked the Mirza reproachfully. “Nay, sahib; now the time is -come for me to repay all I have ever received from you.” - -“I don’t understand,” murmured Ferrers again, and reeled against the -Mirza, who laid him on a divan, and called for the servants. Still -half unconscious, the prisoner was stripped of the horrible rags he -had worn in the prison, and clothed afresh in rich native garments. -His wounds were dressed, food and cooling drinks were brought him, and -he was left to rest in comfort and security. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - “ENGLAND’S FAR, AND HONOUR A NAME.” - -His arrival at the Mirza’s house was the beginning of what appeared, -in contrast with the days that had gone before it, a period of perfect -bliss to Ferrers. The extreme peril of his position, and the danger -which would face him if he wished to leave the city, occurred to him -only as considerations that enhanced the comfort of the present -moment. He had nothing to do but to enjoy life within somewhat -circumscribed limits, and to feel his strength returning day by day -under the care of the Mirza and his household of obsequious slaves. -From time to time the Mirza would appear perturbed, and a question -would elicit the admission that a rigorous search was being made, now -in one part of the city and now in another, for the escaped prisoner. -But Ferrers thought this an excellent joke; and under its influence -the gloomy brow of his host would also relax, for was not the Mirza -the keeper of the prison, and was not his house the last place where -the fugitive would be sought? Still, there were certain precautions to -be taken, and for gratitude’s sake Ferrers was careful to observe -them. He found that the Mirza was far more strict in the performance -of his religious duties than he had ever known him--in fact, the man -who had posed at Shah Nawaz as a freethinker was here the most -orthodox of Moslems, and Ferrers, as became a disciple, also reformed -his earlier heterodox behaviour. In the course of his adventures in -disguise at Bab-us-Sahel he had gained a fair working knowledge of the -points of Mohammedan ritual; now he became acquainted with its -extremest minutiæ, even to the incessant use of the Fattha, or first -verse of the Koran, with which, in the contracted form of “Allahu!” -the devout Gamaris were wont to preface most of the actions of life. -Even had any of the slaves been ill-disposed, they could have alleged -nothing against the orthodoxy of their master and his disciple; but -they seemed to vie with one another in showing a deference to Ferrers -only second to the veneration with which they regarded the Mirza. - -It was but to be expected that as Ferrers grew strong again he would -begin to chafe against the close confinement which his host assured -him was necessary, and even to hint that it was time he made some -attempt to escape from the city. These hints were always turned aside -by the Mirza, however, and it was impossible to know whether he had -understood them or not; but he was more accommodating in the direction -of providing for his guest a certain amount of recreation. At the -beginning, when visitors appeared, Ferrers was always smuggled out of -the way in good time; but by degrees he was allowed to remain, at one -time only hovering on the outskirts of the circle, ready to do the -Mirza’s commands like a dutiful disciple, then, keeping in the shadow, -to lean against a pillar and listen to the words of wisdom that fell -from his teacher, and at last to make one of the group. He had grown a -beard by that time, and this, with the aid of various skilful touches -from the Mirza, altered his appearance completely, while his earlier -practice in behaving as an Oriental stood him in good stead. At length -the Mirza considered that it was safe to take him out of doors, and -they entered afresh on their old course of adventures, the zest of -which was heightened now to Ferrers by the imminent presence of -extreme peril. The scenes which they passed through were many and -various, showing under-currents of life in the sacred city which it -would be by no means profitable to describe. Ferrers was wont at first -to salve his conscience by assuring himself that this all formed part -of an exhaustive inquiry which would have important results when he -returned to civilisation; but he soon began to feel a fascination in -the life he was leading,--to feel that he was being gripped by -something to which one side of his nature, and that not the highest, -responded with fatal facility. - -It was one night that this idea came to him, bringing with it the -unpleasant conviction that he was a great deal happier in Gamara than -he had any business to be; and in the morning he was moody and -troubled, almost making up his mind to speak plainly to the Mirza and -demand the means of escape, then deciding that it was better not to -touch on a subject which his host so pointedly avoided. They were -bidden to an entertainment that day at the house of Ghulam Nabi, one -of the Mirza’s friends, an old and trusted servant of the Khan, and -renowned even in Gamara for the strictness of his orthodoxy. The -company was a very small one, for only a few could be trusted with the -secret that besides the invariable tea and sherbets, fruit and -sweetmeats, Ghulam Nabi was wont to amuse his confidential friends -with entertainments of a more questionable character; but among them -was a nephew of the old man’s who was a student at a neighbouring -mosque, and who threatened to be a disturbing element. Ferrers had -become by this time so used to his assumed character that he no longer -took the precaution of seating himself with his back to the light -under the pretence that his eyes were weak, as he had done at first, -and he found the student’s gaze fastened on him almost continuously. -Aware that to show agitation would be the worst possible policy, he -nerved himself to maintain his usual calmness, and succeeded, as he -believed, in dispelling the youth’s suspicions. But presently, as the -guests rose to accompany their host to a pavilion in the garden, the -student flung himself forward with a shout. - -“That man is a Kafir!” he cried, pointing at Ferrers. “I have been to -India, and seen the Sahibs, and he is one. He does not eat like us, he -rises from his seat differently. He is here in the holy city to spy -upon us!” - -There was a stir among the guests, and they fell away from Ferrers as -if he had been denounced as plague-stricken. He himself, as if by a -sudden inspiration, attempted no defence. He looked at the Mirza, then -bowed his head, and stood in a submissive attitude. The Mirza came to -his rescue at once. - -“The man is my disciple, and no Sahib,” he said. “Is this the way that -the Sahibs receive an accusation, O far-travelled one? Nay, but I have -been training this disciple of mine in patience and submission, until -I verily believe he thinks I have devised this scene to test him. -Truly he has learnt his lesson, and when I go hence, my mantle shall -be his. Is he not a worthy successor, brethren?” - -“He is no true believer,” protested the student, but less confidently -than before. The rest of the company were evidently coming over to -Ferrers’ side, and Ghulam Nabi clinched the matter. - -“It can easily be proved,” he said. “I am not wont to put tests to -those who come under my roof; but in order to quiet the foolish tongue -of this low-born nephew of mine, let the Mirza’s disciple repeat the -_Kalima_, that the ill-spoken boy may bow down in the dust before -him.” - -Much relieved by so easy a solution of the difficulty, Ferrers -repeated promptly the Moslem creed, without hurry and with the proper -intonation. The confusion of the student was complete, and his uncle -and the other elders heaped reproaches upon him, while the Mirza’s -face beamed. No further incident disturbed the harmony of the evening, -and Ferrers returned home with his host in good spirits. His nerve, at -any rate, must be untouched by the trials through which he had passed, -since he could confront such an emergency without a single tremor. He -had forgotten all about the remonstrance he had intended to address to -the Mirza, and was going straight to his own room, when he was called -back. - -“A load has been removed from my mind to-day,” said the Mirza. “I had -not looked to hear Firoz Sahib confess himself of his own free will a -follower of Islam, and it has often grieved me to think of his -returning to the dungeons whence I took him.” - -“It was merely a joke, of course,” said Ferrers lightly, “but it -served its purpose. Good thing I remembered the words all right!” - -“There can be no jest in repeating the _Kalima_ in the presence of -witnesses,” was the reply. “It saved Firoz Sahib’s life to-day.” - -“And will save it a good many times yet, I daresay; but of course it’s -nothing but a joke. Hang it, Mirza! you don’t expect me to go on -pretending to be a Mussulman when I get back to India?” - -“You will never get back to India, sahib. Those that have seen the -things that have been shown to you do not leave Gamara.” - -“What in the world do you mean? I shall leave Gamara as soon as I -can--in a few days, I suppose.” - -“When you leave this house you will either leave it as a Mussulman, in -which case honour and riches await you, or as a Christian, when you -will return to the dungeon from which I brought you. Or rather, as one -who has once professed the faith of Islam and afterwards denied it, -you will pass to such tortures as are reserved for renegades. But you -will never leave Gamara.” - -Ferrers stood gazing at him, unable to utter a word, and the Mirza -went on, speaking in a meditative tone-- - -“Yet is there no cause for sorrow in this, for there is greater honour -for you here than you would ever have attained in India. And when the -alternative is death---- Nay, is it not better to command the Khan’s -bodyguard, and to receive at his Highness’s hand houses, and riches, -and fair women, and all marks of favour, than to be roasted alive, or -flung headlong from the minaret of the Great Mosque, only to fall upon -the sharp hooks set midway in the wall, there to hang in torture until -you die?” - -“You don’t seem to think it worth while to enter upon the religious -side of the question,” sneered Ferrers savagely. - -“Nay, Firoz Sahib and I have lived and talked together too long for -that. He knows that among unbelievers I am even as they, among Sufis I -am a Sufi, among the Brotherhood of the Mountains I am one of -themselves. To Rāss Sahib I have even presented myself as an inquirer -into Christianity. In Persia I should be a Shiah, here in Gamara I am -the most orthodox of Sunnis. To the wise man all creeds are the same, -and he adopts that one which is most expedient for the moment. And as -it is with me, so is it with Firoz Sahib, my disciple. To no man is it -pleasant to change the customs in which he has grown up. When Firoz -Sahib came to Gamara he put on the garments of this land; when he came -into this house he shaved his head, according to the custom of the -people, and these things he did of his own free will for a protection. -But had any man ordered him to do them with threats, he would have -stiffened his neck and refused with curses. So is it with this matter -of creeds. Christianity is to Firoz Sahib as the garments of his own -land, which he will lay aside of his own free will, for the sake of -his own safety. He is too wise a man to see in the change anything but -a matter of expediency.” - -“And faith? and honour? and my friends?” demanded Ferrers fiercely, -with bloodless lips. - -“To your friends you died the day you entered Gamara. Nothing that now -happens to you can reach their ears. Whether you live long and enjoy -his Highness’s favour, or brave his wrath and die the deaths of a -hundred men, they will know nothing of it. The matter is one for -yourself; they can have no part in it.” - -“This is your doing!” burst from Ferrers. - -“And why not? When you destroyed in a moment all my labours, refusing -me the means of justifying myself to those that had employed me in -Nalapur, so that having failed to slay the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, the -accursed, it was needful for me to flee from their wrath also, I said -to you that we should meet again. I thought to journey at some future -time to Khemistan, and finding you in high place and established with -a wife, trouble your tranquillity by whispers of what I might tell if -I chose. I did not expect you to come to me here, where all was at -hand for a vengeance of which I had not dreamt. But when I heard you -were coming to Gamara, I knew that destiny had delivered you into my -hand. You are here, and being such as you are, you will choose life -and happiness, having only lately been very close to Death, and gladly -turned your back on him. So that my vengeance has nothing in it that -is cruel, but the truest kindness, for your life will be saved in this -world, and your soul in the world to come, if there be such a thing.” - -“I won’t do it!” cried Ferrers. “Call in your slaves and denounce me. -Then you will have your precious vengeance after all.” - -“Nay,” said the Mirza musingly, “it would be long in coming. Death is -not all that is in store for the renegade, nor is it swift. Moreover, -his Highness desires a Farangi to train his guard in the manner of -Europe, and I would not willingly disappoint a second master. You are -young, and life is sweet, and before you are war and wealth and the -love of women on the one side. On the other--nay, but I will show you -what is on the other. Come with me, but utter no word, for your own -sake.” - -The Mirza took up a lantern and a long cord, and led the way towards -the door by which he had first brought Ferrers into his house. - -“To the prison?” asked Ferrers, with a shudder which he could not -repress at the thought of entering again the place where he had -suffered so much. - -“To the prison. But fear not, you shall return hither. After that, it -will be for you to do as you choose.” - -Once more they passed through the low doorway, crossed the filthy -courtyard, received the salutations of the sleepy watchers in the -guardroom, and entered the dark passage, Ferrers trembling from head -to foot as the full recollection of what he had suffered there -returned to him. But instead of opening the door of his cell, the -Mirza turned aside into a second passage, and led the way through a -labyrinth of narrow corridors and winding staircases, the trend of the -route being always downwards. The air grew thick and damp, and the -lantern burned dimly. There was a smell of mould, and where the light -fell on the walls, they seemed to move. Ferrers stumbled on after the -Mirza, who appeared to know his way perfectly. At last their nostrils -were assailed by a horrible stench, and the Mirza, moving the lantern -from side to side, showed that they were in a cave or room of some -size, hollowed in the rock. In the middle of the floor was a hole or -well, from which the stench seemed to come, and above it in the roof -was another hole. - -“Not a word!” whispered the Mirza, leading the way to what looked like -a doorway on the farther side of the place. He lifted the lantern and -threw the light inside. Horrible things wriggled and ran along the -floor and crept upon the walls as he did so. He put one foot inside -the doorway, and there was a kind of stampede. Small bright eyes and -sharp teeth shone in every corner. But Ferrers’ gaze was fixed upon a -crouching heap, which might have been a wild animal, at the very back -of the cell. It moved, and disclosed the face of a man, gaunt, wasted, -fever-stricken, with bleached unkempt hair and beard. - -“Be off! I won’t do it!” The words were uttered with difficulty, but -they were in English. Ferrers started violently, and the Mirza threw -him a menacing look. The captive, seeming to recollect himself, -repeated the words in Persian, but the Mirza made no reply. After -turning the light of the lantern once more on the man and his -surroundings, he motioned Ferrers back. Ferrers obeyed. The moment -before, it had been in his mind to say some word of cheer to the -prisoner, at whatever risk to himself, if only to let him know that -there was another Englishman--another Christian--within those terrible -walls. But the words remained unspoken, and with a clank of chains the -prisoner sank back into his former position, his chin supported on his -knees. - -Meanwhile the Mirza had been fastening to the lantern the cord he had -brought with him, and now he let it down into the well, ordering -Ferrers to look over the edge, but not to go too near. Once more he -obeyed, to behold a sickening chaos of human bones and dead bodies in -all stages of decomposition, among which moved and scampered obscene -creatures such as he had seen on the walls and floor of the cell. - -“All that die in the prison are cast here,” said the Mirza, and -Ferrers realised that the hole in the roof must communicate with the -courtyard above-ground. - -“And who was--that?” he asked fearfully, as they began to retrace -their steps. The Mirza gave him a glance full of satisfied malignity. - -“That,” he said slowly, and as if enjoying each word, “is Whybrow -Sahib.” - -“Whybrow, whom I came here to----?” - -“Whom you came to save. He is not a wise man, like Firoz Sahib. He -will neither embrace the faith of Islam nor enter his Highness’s army. -Therefore he lives here, with the rats and the scorpions.” - -“And what--what will become of him?” - -“Who can say? Perhaps he will die--the rats are often hungry--or he -might be forgotten. Or it may be his cell will be needed for some -other prisoner,--then he will be thrown into the well and left there. -But that may not be for years.” - -Years--years of such captivity as that! Ferrers laughed harshly. “You -should have brought him up into your house and made life mean as much -to him as you have done to me,” he said. - -“We have,” was the answer; “and even into the very palace of his -Highness, where one of the dancing-girls, pitying him, pleaded for his -life with her lord and with him, but he would not yield. He returned -hither, and she died, as a warning to her companions.” - -Again they made their way through the passages and up the stairs, -again crossed the courtyard and entered the Mirza’s house. Ferrers -turned aside to the steps which led up to the roof. - -“Take counsel with yourself,” the Mirza called after him. “To-morrow -you must decide.” - -Take counsel! Ferrers had meant to do it; but even as he began to pace -to and fro, with the sleeping city outspread all around him, he knew -that the matter was decided already--had been decided from the moment -when he withheld the words he had tried to utter to Whybrow. The test -was more than flesh and blood could stand. In open day, Ferrers could -have charged alone into an overwhelming host of enemies, and died -gloriously. Had he lived in earlier days, he could have faced the -lions in the amphitheatre, unarmed, and not have flinched, or have -fought as a gladiator and received his death-blow by command of the -audience without a sign of fear. But die slowly by inches underground, -submit to be eaten alive by vermin, perish unknown, unhonoured, this -he could not do. If only he had had companions in misfortune, if even -Whybrow and he could have stood shoulder to shoulder from the first, -and encouraged one another, it would have been different, but there -was not a creature within hundreds of miles to whom steadfastness on -his part would seem anything but foolishness. As the Mirza had said, -no one in the world he had left would ever know whether he had died a -hero or lived a craven; and if they did, what good would it do him? -Penelope, who ought to care, would expect him to hold out. He felt -angrily that if Penelope had loved him better he might have been a -better man, even able to hold out, perhaps. It would have been -something, on the other hand, to be able to assure himself that she -would wish him to yield, but he could not take this comfort. And, -after all, what was he giving up? To trample on the cross, to curse -the claims of Christ--these were disagreeable things to do, but, as -the Mirza had said, they had no particular poignancy for him. With -Colin it would have been different, of course. Christ was more than a -name to him, Christianity other than a mere set of formulæ. But how -could it be expected of Ferrers--could any one in his senses ask -it--that he should die for Colin’s faith? - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - THE STRENGTH OF TEN. - -For some months after Ferrers’ departure for Gamara, Colin was kept -a prisoner by the wounds received in the unsuccessful first attack on -Shir Hussein’s stronghold. Lady Haigh had insisted that he should be -brought to the fort, and she and Penelope nursed him unweariedly. His -convalescence was long and tedious, and complicated by attacks of -fever; but he exhibited a constant patience which, as Lady Haigh said, -was nothing but a reproach to ordinary mortals, and only showed what -terrible people the Martyrs must have been to live with. From the -first return to consciousness, his question was always for news of -Ferrers; and when he was at last promoted from his bedroom to a couch -in the drawing-room, he was still eager on the subject. - -“Have you had many letters from George, Pen?” he asked his sister the -very first day. - -“Two, I think. No, there must have been three,” she answered -indifferently. - -“Do you mean to say you’re not sure? If poor George only knew what an -affectionate sweetheart he has!” - -“They came when you were very ill. How could I think of them then?” - -“I don’t know. It seems the proper thing, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t they be -generally supposed to be a comfort to you?” - -“Possibly, by people who didn’t know the circumstances.” - -“Why, Pen!” Colin gave her a puzzled look. “Couldn’t you read me a bit -here and there?” he asked coaxingly. “I should like to hear how the -old fellow is getting on.” - -“I’m not sure that I can find them. I’ll look.” - -She went into her own room, and returned presently with some crumpled -papers in her hand. - -“There must have been three, but I can only find two. I remember the -_dhobi_ sent some message about a paper in the pocket of a dress that -went to the wash. I must have thrust it away and forgotten all about -it. Don’t look at me with huge reproachful eyes in that way, Colin. I -suppose you think I ought to work an embroidered case for George’s -letters, and keep them next my heart, don’t you?” - -“I thought that was the sort of thing girls did generally. Of course I -mightn’t be allowed to see them, Pen?” He spoke in jest; but his eyes -were fastened hungrily on the letters. - -“Oh dear, yes! I don’t mind. Why shouldn’t you?” - -Colin was taken aback. He had no experience in love-affairs, but it -struck him that this was not quite as it should be. He smoothed out -the crushed sheets as she handed them to him. - -“Why, they look just as if you had crumpled them up and thrown them -across the room!” he said. - -“Well, if you are anxious to know, that is exactly what I did do, and -the ayah picked them up and put them carefully into a drawer.” - -“Pen!” Colin was shocked. “What could you have been thinking about?” - -“Oh, I happened to be in a bad temper, that was all, of course. Don’t -worry your head about it, dear. Now that you are better, I don’t so -much mind all the other things. I oughtn’t to be cross and horrid, -when I’m so thankful about you, ought I? but I’m tired, and we’ve been -anxious about you for so long.” - -She bent over him and kissed his forehead, and Colin, though -perplexed, acquiesced in her evident desire to change the subject. But -he watched her anxiously, noticing the irritability which was so new -in her voice, and the restless unhappiness of her face when she -thought herself alone. - -“Pen,” he said suddenly one day, “has anything gone wrong between you -and George?” - -“Oh, nothing particular,” she answered listlessly. “It’s only that if -I knew I should never see him again, I should be perfectly happy.” - -“Penelope!” he cried, aghast. “You would like him to disappear, -perhaps to be killed, like poor Whybrow?” - -“No, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But if he would only -fall in love with some one else, and never come back here!” - -“I don’t think you are at all in a right state of mind, Penelope.” -Colin’s didactic instincts were roused by this heartless speech. - -“Nor do I,” she answered promptly. “I have known it for a long time. -The best that can be said of it is that I am forcing myself to do evil -that good may come--or that you are forcing me.” - -“I?” cried Colin indignantly. “You know I want nothing but your -happiness.” - -“You don’t think of my happiness at all. You think of me merely as a -means of reclaiming George, not as a person to be considered -separately.” - -“I hope you are not going to adopt Lady Haigh’s jargon, Pen. It -doesn’t sound nice from a young lady’s lips.” - -“Do you think that what I have gone through since Christmas has been -nice to feel?” she demanded hotly, then broke down and fell upon her -knees by his couch in tears. “Oh, Colin, I am very miserable. I can’t -bear it. Help me. Be kind as you used to be. Think of me a little, not -only of George. He has come between us ever since we came to India. I -can’t marry him--I can’t!” - -Colin put out a shaking hand to touch hers. He had honestly thought he -was doing the best both for his sister and his friend in bringing -about a marriage between them, and the sudden revelation of Penelope’s -state of feeling came upon him with a shock. “Don’t, Pen,” he said -feebly. “I didn’t know you felt like this about it. I’ll speak to -George--awful blow--poor fellow----” his voice failed, and Penelope -sprang up in alarm. - -“Oh, I have made you ill again! You are faint!” she cried in terror. -“Oh, Colin, don’t. I will marry him--it was always to please you.” - -“No, no.” He lifted his hand with difficulty. “We will talk of this -again--not just now. I will think about it. Poor George! poor fellow!” -and as she fetched him a restorative Penelope felt, with a renewal of -the old bitterness, that his first thought was still for Ferrers, not -for her. - -It was not until the next day that he returned to the subject; but in -the interval she caught his eyes following her wistfully, as though he -was trying to discover the reason for such hardness of heart. But his -voice was gentle as he held out his hand to her when they found -themselves alone, and said, “Now, Pen, come and sit here, and let us -talk things over.” It did not occur to her to resent this fatherly -attitude on the part of a brother no older than herself. He had always -stood somewhat apart, and taken the lead, and until the last few -months she had never admitted a doubt of his insight or his wisdom. He -looked at her searchingly as she sat down beside him. “There is one -thing I must ask first,” he said. “Is there any one else?” - -The blood rushed to Penelope’s face, but she looked him straight in -the eyes. “There is,” she said. “But don’t look at me in that way, -Colin, as if I had been encouraging some one else while I was engaged -to George. I think you might know me better than that.” - -“You should have told me about it.” - -“How could I? There was nothing to tell. He didn’t speak until it was -too late.” - -“But when he spoke, you came at once to the conclusion that you -preferred him to George?” - -“Not quite that. It wasn’t so sudden. I--I liked him before, but -because he said nothing I thought he--didn’t care.” - -“And now you wish George to release you that you may become engaged to -him?” - -“It’s not that! He promised never to speak of that sort of thing -again. How dare you say such things to me, Colin? It’s not just--you -know it isn’t. If you knew anything about love--but you don’t---- It -is simply that I can’t promise to love and obey one man when I know in -my heart that I don’t love him, but some one else.” - -She had sprung up from her low seat and confronted him with flushed -cheeks and grey eyes flashing. Colin hardly knew his quiet sister, and -he felt abashed before her indignation. “Forgive me, Pen,” he said. “I -only wanted to know all the ins and outs of the matter. Why didn’t you -tell me about it before?” - -“Do you think you are an encouraging person to tell things to?” -demanded Penelope, still unreconciled. “No, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean -to say that. It was my promise, Colin. You were so shocked at the idea -of my breaking it, I thought I would sooner die. And so I tried to -forget the--the other, and to like George, but I couldn’t make myself -feel as I ought. I don’t want to hurt you--I know how fond you are of -George--but it was the difference, the dreadful difference between the -two men. I couldn’t help seeing it more and more.” - -“And so you were very miserable?” She was beside him again now, with -her face buried in his cushions, and his tone was tender. - -“So miserable. And I have felt so wicked, Colin. It was almost a -relief when you were so ill, and I couldn’t think of any one but you. -When Elma came and made me go and rest, I couldn’t sleep, because the -thought of George used to seize me like a terror. It was horrible to -think of his coming back.” - -Colin was stroking her hair, but there was a little bitterness in his -voice as he said, “I seem to have been making a mistake all along. If -I had guessed there was another man it would have been different; but -I thought a girl could not want anything more than a kind husband, -whom she might hope to help by her companionship. I knew Lady Haigh -had prejudiced you against poor George----” - -“No, that is not fair. I was quite willing to believe in George again -on your word, but he never took the slightest trouble to show me that -he cared for me. Even when I told him that before Christmas, he only -made a kind of pretence, as if he knew I should have to marry him -whether I liked him or not. I know I have been very wrong, Colin, but -it was in listening to George at all, when I knew I didn’t care for -him. It isn’t fickleness, really. I have tried hard to like him.” - -“And now I must tell him that you prefer some one else, and want him -to release you?” - -“No, tell him that I can’t marry him.” - -“That is not enough. Do you think it is a pleasant thing for me to -have to confess that my sister has made a promise she cannot keep, and -that I must throw myself on his mercy to set her free? And poor George -himself! You may tell me I know nothing about this sort of thing, but -it will be a terrible blow to him. No, it is not your fault, -Pen--altogether. You should have spoken before, but I am to blame too. -I will undertake to settle the matter with George, and I only trust -that I may be mistaken in thinking how much he will feel it.” - -“He won’t release me,” she said hopelessly. “I asked him myself.” - -“Without giving any reason? Of course he thought it was merely girlish -fickleness or a love of teasing.” Penelope moved her head -unrepentantly. “Pen, you talk of my being unjust to you, but you are -frightfully unjust to George. As if any gentleman would keep a girl -bound when he knew she cared for some one else! You try to excuse -yourself by making him out a blackguard.” - -“I can only judge him as I have found him,” she said, wondering -whether Colin’s firm faith in his friend had really a power to bring -out the best side of Ferrers’ character. Colin looked for good in him, -and found it; she expected nothing better than lack of sympathy and -consideration, and duly met with it. Was she herself in part to blame -for the unsatisfactory features of his conduct? If she had been able -to love him and believe in him with the whole-hearted confidence he -had inspired in her as a child, if she could have continued to regard -him as an ideal hero, accepting his careless favours with rapture, and -never dreaming of demanding more affection than he chose to give, he -might possibly have developed into the being she believed him. -Possibly, but not probably. An unreasoning devotion would in all -likelihood have wearied him, even if her sharp eyes had not beheld the -flaws in his armour; but it was not possible to Penelope to go about -with her eyes shut. Perfection she did not expect, but Ferrers could -never have satisfied her now that she was no longer a child, even had -his deficiencies, not been accentuated by the contrast with that other -lover of whom she strove conscientiously not to think, but whose very -faults she owned to herself that she loved. - -For some time after her explanation with Colin, the subject of Ferrers -was not mentioned between them. Colin had discarded the idea of -writing to him, lest the letter should be lost or fall into the wrong -hands; but there was a tacit understanding that he was to meet him as -soon as he returned to India, and tell him everything. Even this -unsettled state of affairs brought comfort to Penelope. Her -cheerfulness returned, and she was uneasily conscious that Colin must -think her absolutely heartless when he heard her talking and laughing -with Lady Haigh, who was quite aware that he was inclined to consider -her Penelope’s evil genius. But one day there came news that put an -effectual end to all cheerfulness for the time. Penelope was crossing -the hall when she heard Sir Dugald, who was just coming out of the -drawing-room, talking to Colin. - -“After all,” he was saying, “it’s much too soon to give up hope. Many -things might happen to interrupt communications. He may even be on his -way back already.” - -A groan from Colin was the only answer, and Penelope asked anxiously, -“What is it, Sir Dugald? Is anything the matter?” - -He looked at her before answering, and the look convinced her that -Lady Haigh kept him informed, possibly against his will, of the course -of affairs. “We are anxious for news of Ferrers,” he said. “Since the -letter which told of his arrival at Gamara, neither the Government nor -any one else has had a word from him.” - -“And they think----?” - -“They think--but we trust they are beginning to despond too soon--that -he may have shared poor Whybrow’s fate, whatever it was.” - -For a moment--a moment for which she could never forgive -herself--Penelope was conscious of an involuntary feeling of relief. -No more of those letters, which had caused her such indignant misery -at first, with their calm assumption of the writer’s authority over -her, and their wealth of affectionate epithets (mentally repudiated by -the recipient), and which she had felt as a constant reproach since -her talk with Colin. Then came a quick revulsion of feeling. To what -horrors was she willing to doom this man who had loved her, merely to -save herself humiliation and discomfort? She ran into the -drawing-room, where Colin was lying on his couch with his face to the -wall. - -“Colin, he must be saved!” she cried. “Don’t let us lose time. They -waited so long after the news of poor Mr Whybrow’s disappearance -before doing anything. Can’t he be ransomed? There is Saadullah -Kermani, the trader--he travels to Gamara, and would arrange it. I -will give all my money--it isn’t much in the year, but we could -realise the investments, couldn’t we?--and my pearl necklace is worth -a good deal, and there are my brooches and things. You would give what -you could, wouldn’t you? and I know Elma would help. Oh, and there is -Mr Crayne. We can get quite enough money together, surely?” - -“It’s not a question of money.” Colin turned a white, drawn face -towards his sister. “If we knew that he, or Whybrow either, was in -prison, there might be some hope. Whether he was seized in order to -extort money or political concessions, we might come to terms. But if -he disappears, as Whybrow did, without leaving a trace, and the Khan’s -government deny that they know anything about him, what can we say? -The only thing is for some one to go and search for him, and it must -be done.” - -“Oh, not you, Colin! not you!” cried Penelope, almost frantically. - -“I shall not decide in a hurry. I mean to wait a week, in case the -letters have been delayed by snow in the mountains, or by fighting -among the tribes. If we hear nothing then, I shall write to the -Government of India, asking to be sent to look for him.” - -“Oh, Colin, you mustn’t go!” she wailed. “You are all I have now.” - -“It may not be necessary,” he said. “I can’t say more than that.” - -Penelope thought afterwards that she had never spent such a long week -in her life. In terrible contrast to her former wish that Ferrers -might not return was her feverish anxiety to be assured that he was -actually on his way back. But no news came, and telegrams from -Calcutta told that the authorities there had very little hope. They -pointed out that they had agreed most reluctantly to send Ferrers to -Gamara, and their forebodings seemed in a fair way of being justified. -Nothing had been heard of Ferrers or from him by the end of the week, -and Colin wrote at once to offer his services to go in search of his -friend. The reply was prompt and decisive. The Government had no -intention of sending any further mission to Gamara. - -“I must get leave of absence, and travel as a private individual,” was -all the comment Colin vouchsafed when he saw the joy which Penelope -could not hide. “It will make things a little more difficult, but -Government aid really doesn’t seem to do much good.” - -“Oh, I wish I could speak to Major Keeling before he does, and beg him -not to grant him leave!” thought Penelope, as she saw him mount his -pony--he was allowed to ride a little by this time--and take the -direction of the town; but it seemed as though Major Keeling had -divined her wishes without hearing them. He was in his office, -digesting an acrimonious rebuke from headquarters on the subject of -the young officer upon whom he had seized to replace Ferrers, and his -refusal of Colin’s request was sharp and short. - -“Go to Gamara--six months’ leave? Certainly not. We are short-handed -already. I wonder you have the face to ask it.” - -“You can’t expect me to leave my friend to be tortured to death, sir.” - -“What does it signify to you what I expect? You won’t get leave from -me to go on such a wild-goose chase.” - -“Major Keeling, I earnestly entreat you to grant me this six months. I -cannot leave Ferrers to his fate.” - -“What are you standing there talking for--taking up my time? You won’t -do any good if you stay till to-morrow.” - -“He is my friend. I must try to save him.” - -“And your brother-in-law that is to be? It makes no difference.” - -“No, sir, that is not my reason. In fact, my sister has determined to -break off her engagement, and I shall have to tell him so, but----” - -Major Keeling sprang up furiously. “What do you mean by coming here -and trying to tempt me, sir? You shall not go to your death for -Ferrers or any one else, unless it’s in the way of duty. Be off!” - -Nothing but the enlightenment which broke suddenly upon Colin would -have sufficed to make him leave the office without irritating the -Commandant by further argument, but for a moment the discovery -overshadowed in his mind even the thought of Ferrers. He had felt some -natural curiosity as to the identity of the man whom Penelope -preferred to his friend; but as she did not offer to gratify it he had -not pressed her, thinking that Porter was almost certainly the person -in question. Now it occurred to him that Penelope might be of use in -asking for the leave which Major Keeling was so determined not to -grant, but he repressed the thought sternly. He would do nothing that -would allow Penelope or any one else to think that he recognised the -slightest bond between her and the man who had supplanted Ferrers. - -Leaving the office, he saw Sir Dugald riding past, and joined him, -telling him of the unsuccessful issue of his application. Sir Dugald, -who may have been primed beforehand by Penelope, was much rejoiced, -and inwardly blessed Major Keeling’s wisdom, but was careful not to -hurt Colin’s feelings. - -“It would mean certain death for you, after all,” he said; “and you -have your sister to think of, you know. Why not see what money can do? -Let us go and see that old sinner Saadullah. He might be able to make -inquiries for you, and he starts for Gamara in a week or two.” - -They rode out to the piece of land on the north of the town which had -been set apart as a camping-ground for traders and small bands of -nomads, and threaded their way between the lines of squalid tents and -through the confusion of camels, horses, and human beings, towards the -encampment of Saadullah Kermani, which was somewhat withdrawn from the -rest. Most of the men who were hanging about saluted the two officers -with more or less goodwill, but a hulking fellow who was lounging -against a pile of merchandise stared at them open-mouthed, and on -being hastily prompted by a neighbour as to his duty, burst into an -insolent laugh. Sir Dugald turned his pony sharply aside, and seizing -the man by some portion of his ragged garments, shook him until his -teeth chattered, then released him and ordered him to beg pardon -unless he wanted a thrashing. Forced to his knees by his companions, -the man stuttered out some kind of apology, adding in a sulky murmur -something that the Englishmen could not hear. - -“What does he say?” asked Sir Dugald of the trader himself, who had -come up by this time. - -“Nothing, sahib, nothing; he is the son of a pig, one who cannot speak -truth. He utters lies as the serpent spits forth venom.” - -“He said something about Gamara, and I wish to know what it was.” - -“I said,” interrupted the cause of the discussion, “that the Sahibs -who ride here so proudly, and ill-treat true believers, would find -things rather different in Gamara, like their friend Firoz Sahib.” - -“What do you know about Firoz Sahib?” demanded Sir Dugald. - -“Only that he has turned Mussulman to save his life,” grinned the man. -“Oh, mercy, Heaven-born, mercy!” as Saadullah and his servants fell -upon him, all trying to beat him at once. - -“No, let him speak,” commanded Sir Dugald. “Is this true that you -say?” he asked the man. - -“I know only that one morning Firoz Sahib was not to be found in the -house that had been appointed for him, and it was said that he had -insulted his Highness, and had been given his choice of Islam or -death,” was the sulky answer. - -“Did you hear anything of this?” asked Sir Dugald of Saadullah. - -“It was talked of in the bazars, sahib; but many things are spoken -that have no truth in them,” replied the trader deferentially. - -“Well, we will see you again. I would advise you to teach that fellow -of yours to keep his mouth shut.” - -“It shall be done, sahib. He is a fool, and the grandson of a fool,” -and Saadullah pursued the two officers out of his camp with profound -bows. As soon as they were clear of the tents, Colin turned to Sir -Dugald. - -“This settles it,” he said. “I shall throw up my commission and go to -Gamara.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - THE ALLOTTED FIELD. - -From this determination Colin could not be moved. He wrote off -immediately to Mr Crayne, asking him to obtain leave for him to resign -his commission without delay, since Major Keeling remained obdurate, -and join Saadullah Kermani’s caravan when it left Alibad for Gamara. -Mr Crayne, whose anxiety for his nephew’s safety was embittered by the -remembrance that it was he himself who had obtained him his perilous -post, made a flying journey to the river station, and summoned Colin -to meet him there, that they might talk things over. The old man was -aghast when he heard Colin’s plans. He would attempt no disguise, seek -no credentials from the Government, invoke no protection if danger -threatened. Bible and Koran in hand, he would go to the wicked city -simply as a friend in search of a friend, proving to the orthodox of -Gamara from the books they held sacred their abuse of the duties of -hospitality. Eager as he was that some definite step should be taken, -Mr Crayne recoiled from sending Colin to what seemed certain death, -and could hardly be dissuaded from dismissing the project as summarily -as Major Keeling had done. But at last Colin’s entreaties induced him -to send for Saadullah from Alibad, and after long and anxious -consultations with the trader he began to see a glimmering of hope in -the scheme. During the short time he had been on the border, Colin had -acquired a high reputation for sanctity among the natives. His austere -life, the ascetic qualities which made him unpopular among his -comrades, his willingness for religious discussion, were so many -causes for pride to the men of his troop, from whom his fame spread -first to the bazar-people of Alibad and then to the tribes. He was not -credited with the possession of miraculous powers, like Major Keeling, -but it was very commonly believed that he was divinely inspired. The -discussions which took place in his verandah might have bred -ill-feeling but for the courtesy and tact with which he conducted -them, and the bigoted Mussulmans who came to confound him and went -away defeated took with them a feeling almost of affection for their -antagonist. He might be a Kafir and a smooth-faced boy, but he could -argue against the wisest Mullahs and send them away with a lurking -doubt that what they had heard and rejected might in reality be a -message from God communicated by an angel. - -Since this was the case, Saadullah thought there was good reason to -hope that Colin might be able to visit Gamara in safety. The -undertaking was fraught with peril, of course, but it was significant -that the only European who had in the course of many years been -allowed to leave the city uninjured was an eccentric missionary who -had followed much the same plan. There was little likelihood of -rescuing Ferrers, the trader admitted; but if Rāss Sahib obtained the -Khan’s ear, he might at any rate be able to ascertain his fate, -perhaps even bring back his bones for burial. It was from Saadullah -that Mr Crayne learned the unpalatable fact that Ferrers was the last -man who should have been sent to Gamara, that his self-assertion and -absence of tact would be a standing irritation to the Khan and his -people, and that the sporting characters of the Alibad bazar had only -disagreed as to the shortness of the time in which he would offer -deadly insult to the prince or his religion, and duly disappear. With -Rāss Sahib it was different, for he cared nothing for slights to -himself, only to his faith, and his courage in opening discussion at -the very seat of Moslem culture, coupled with his kindly and courteous -bearing, ought to win him friends enough to ensure his safety. - -Thus urged, Mr Crayne consented, with many misgivings, to further the -project. He obtained leave for Colin to resign his commission, and -persuaded the Government not to veto the journey. He saw that he had -ample command of money, and intrusted Saadullah with a further supply, -to be used in case his charge found himself in any difficulty or -danger, and also authorised them to draw upon him should more be -needed. Colin’s way was rendered as smooth as possible, and the -resulting conviction that he was right in undertaking the journey made -it easy for him to bear the contemptuous coldness of Major Keeling and -the wondering remonstrances of his friends. He was very kind to -Penelope, who could hardly bear him out of her sight, clinging to him, -as it were, in a desperate endeavour to hold him back, while he put -her gently aside, pressing on towards the goal he had in view. Her -unavailing misery angered Lady Haigh to the point of fiery -indignation, and at last she determined deliberately that she would at -least make an attempt to bring Colin to a sense of the error of his -ways. She gave Sir Dugald orders to take Penelope for a ride one -morning, and fairly hunted them both out of the place, promising to -overtake them before long, then pounced upon Colin as he rode up, and -informed him that he was to have the honour of escorting her. It gave -her a malign pleasure to note his evident unwillingness, though he -could not well refuse to ride with her, and she wasted no more words -until they were out in the desert. - -“You are determined to take this journey to Gamara?” she asked him, -slackening pace suddenly. - -He looked at her in surprise. “Yes,” he answered simply. - -“And not even the thought of your sister will make you change your -mind? You are leaving her absolutely alone in the world.” - -“She is not without friends. You and Haigh will always look after her. -Poor George Ferrers has no one. Moreover, I feel that to some extent I -am taking the journey in Penelope’s place.” - -“You don’t mean to say that you expected her to go?” - -“No, no, though she did cry out at first that she ought to go, not I. -What I mean is that it was for her sake Ferrers went to Gamara, hoping -the mission would lead to some appointment on which he might marry, -and as soon as he is gone she turns round and declares that nothing -will induce her to marry him.” - -“If you asked my opinion, I should say that he went to Gamara because -he had made Alibad too hot to hold him; but if you prefer the other -view, I can’t help it. Mr Ross, tell me, what is there about Captain -Ferrers which captivates you? You are not generally a lenient judge, -but you condone in him things which you would rebuke unsparingly in -your other comrades, and you can’t forgive your sister for refusing to -marry him, though it’s clear it would mean lifelong misery to her if -she did. Why is it?” - -Colin looked at her in unfeigned perplexity. “He is my friend, Lady -Haigh. When I was a little chap, and he a big fellow always getting -into scrapes, we were like Steerforth and Copperfield,--no, I don’t -mean that”--perceiving that the comparison might be interpreted -unfavourably to Ferrers--“like David and Jonathan--he was David, of -course. In those days Pen was as fond of him as I was. I may be unjust -to her, as you seem to imply, but I can’t get over her fickleness. It -was settled so long ago that he was to marry her and I was to live -with them--what better arrangement could there have been? George has -never changed, I have never changed, but Penelope has. What led to the -change, you know best.” - -“Not I,” returned Lady Haigh warmly; “except that it was a very -natural repugnance to a lover who seemed to take everything for -granted, and who, as we now know, never thought of her at all.” - -“Lady Haigh,” said Colin earnestly, “you are doing him an injustice. -He did not know of her arrival in India, was not expecting her; but if -he had been allowed to meet her, and she had met him on the old -footing, without interference, this sad alienation would never have -taken place. You meant well when you warned her against him, but----” - -“Mr Ross,” said Lady Haigh, settling herself firmly in the saddle, and -punctuating her sentences by little taps of her whip on the pommel, “I -meant well, and I did well. You would have sacrificed your sister to a -man who was not worthy to black her shoes. I saved her.” - -“You have always misjudged him, and I fear you always will. I know he -has done many wrong and foolish things--he has told me so himself, -with bitter regret. But he had cast them behind him; all he needed to -help him to rise was the love of a good woman, and he and I both hoped -he had found it. I begin to fear now that even before he started on -his mission he must have felt some misgivings about Penelope’s -affection for him----” - -“Probably,” said Lady Haigh savagely. “Oh, go on.” - -“Some fear that her heart was not really his. What is the result? This -terrible, miserable rumour which is taking me to Gamara.” - -“Then you actually hold your sister accountable for Captain Ferrers’ -becoming a Mohammedan? Now will you kindly tell me what you think a -man’s Christianity is worth if it depends on a girl’s feelings?” - -“A girl’s actions, rather,” said Colin sorrowfully. “Think, he has met -with a terrible shock. All his ideas of woman’s truth and -steadfastness are destroyed. I know that ought not to destroy his -faith; but he has always been one who depended upon the visible for -his grasp of the invisible. And that is why I am going to Gamara, in -the hope that he may yet be saved.” - -“Do you really expect to bring him back with you?” she asked, awed. - -“No. I feel that I shall not return,” he answered. “But I have also -the feeling that in some way, even if it is only by my death, George -will be brought back.” - -“After this”--Lady Haigh spoke brusquely, that he might not see how -much she was moved--“I quite understand that it is no use asking you -to consider Penelope. She doesn’t count in such a case.” - -“I have done what I can for her,” he replied. “I have left her all I -have. And I suppose”--he spoke with evident distaste--“that some day -she will marry the Chief.” - -“Ah, I thought even you would scarcely venture to think she was still -bound to Captain Ferrers. Well, Mr Ross, since you have got so far, -you must do something more. You must leave a message with me that I -can give her if that ever comes about. If I have to persecute you -unceasingly till the day you start, I will have it.” - -“No; that is too much. I may foresee such a marriage, I cannot prevent -it, but I will not encourage it.” - -“You will give me leave to tell your sister that you thought such a -thing might possibly happen, and that you wished her all happiness in -it. She has gone through agonies in trying to keep the promise which -you imposed upon her, and she did keep it till it nearly killed her. I -believe you think you are the only person who has a right to quote -texts, but I ask you what good it will do if you are willing to give -yourself up to be killed at Gamara, and yet can’t show common charity -to your own sister?” - -Colin rode on in silence with a rigid face, and Lady Haigh wondered -whether he would refuse to speak to her again. She had caught sight of -Sir Dugald and Penelope coming towards them, and felt that her chance -was nearly over. Would he speak? She held her breath with anxiety. -Suddenly he turned to her with a smile which transfigured his whole -face. - -“You are right, Lady Haigh, and I am wrong. I have judged poor Pen -hardly, and she must have thought me unkind. If it--this marriage -should ever come off, tell her that from my heart I prayed for her -happiness and Keeling’s. And I thank you heartily for showing me what -a Pharisee I have been.” - -Lady Haigh scarcely dared to believe in her success, but she noticed a -new tone of tenderness in Colin’s voice when he spoke to his sister -presently, and the look of incredulous joy in Penelope’s grey eyes -showed that she saw it too. “I have done a good morning’s work,” said -Lady Haigh to herself. - - - -For the few days that remained before Colin’s departure, Penelope was -happy. The barrier which had existed between her brother and herself -since their arrival in India seemed to have suddenly disappeared, and -she felt she was forgiven. Ferrers’ name was not mentioned between -them, but Colin was able to allude to the object of his journey -without unconsciously reproving his sister by the sternness of his -voice. Lady Haigh could not discover whether he had told her of his -presentiment that he would not return, though she guessed that -Penelope must have divined it, for the girl was clearly hoping against -hope, unable to believe that the renewed confidence between Colin and -herself could be brought to an end so quickly. - -All too soon, as it seemed to Penelope, Colin started in the train of -Saadullah Kermani, and life at Alibad resumed its ordinary course, -sadly flat, stale, and unprofitable in the estimation of one at least -of the inhabitants. Penelope’s occupation was gone. She had joyfully -resigned her interest in Ferrers, she could do nothing for Colin but -pray for him, and she missed daily, almost hourly, the interest which -Major Keeling had been wont to bring into her life. He never tried to -see her alone now--in fact, his visits to the fort had ceased, and all -her information as to the affairs of the border was derived from the -stray pieces of news extorted from Sir Dugald by Lady Haigh, who was -bent on educating him up to the belief that she and Penelope took an -intelligent interest in public affairs. Not that these were exciting -at this time. The young officer whose services Major Keeling had -requisitioned was peremptorily restored to his original regiment, much -against his will, and the usual heated correspondence followed. The -border was quiet--in the case of Nalapur much too quiet, Major Keeling -considered, and his demand for two additional European officers was -finally refused by the authorities. The Haighs moved into their new -house, which was at last pronounced safe, and Major Keeling took up -his quarters in the imposing but gloomy building he had erected for -himself. He abjured punkahs and every other kind of device for -modifying the heat of the place, but he had laid aside his heroic -views in planning the Haighs’ house. The lofty rooms were fitted with -every appliance that had yet been discovered for making a Khemistan -summer less intolerable, and there was a large _tai-khana_, or -underground room, for refuge in the daytime, and a spacious roof for -sleeping on at night. Lady Haigh and Penelope found plenty to do in -making the bare rooms habitable with the small means at their -disposal. Those were the days when anything of “country” make was -regarded by the English in India as beyond the pale of toleration; but -Lady Haigh, looking round upon the remnant of her belongings which had -survived the journey up-country and the hands of the native servants, -came to a heroic decision. It was all very well for people down at the -coast, or generals’ wives and other _burra mems_, to have things out -from home, but the subaltern’s wife must do her best with country -goods; and she and Penelope worked wonders with native cottons and -embroidered draperies, and the curious rugs which were brought by the -caravans from Central Asia. Perhaps, as she herself confessed, she -might not have been so courageous had it not been practically certain -that none of the great ladies from the coast would ever see and -criticise her arrangements, but for her part she did not think the -native designs were so very hideous after all, or their colouring as -barbaric as it appeared to most English people in those far-off days -of the Fifties--devotees as they were of grass green and royal blue. - -Into the midst of these domestic labours came the thunderbolt which -Penelope told herself she had been expecting, but which was no less -appalling. Saadullah Kermani’s caravan returned, without Colin. There -had been no remissness on Saadullah’s part, no rashness on Colin’s; -but there was a factor in the case the presence of which they had not -suspected. Colin had entered Gamara in the humble and distinctive -attire prescribed for Christians approaching the holy city, and had -behaved with the utmost prudence, making no attempt to penetrate where -he should not, or attack the usages of the place. His -travelling-companions bore unanimous testimony to his gentleness when -he was engaged in controversy by different Mullahs, and to the absence -of bitterness when these took leave of him. Many came to visit him at -the Sarai, and some even invited him to their houses. There was every -hope that his presence would come to the Khan’s ears, so that he might -be commanded to the palace as a guest, and have a chance of attaining -the object of his journey, when one day some of his first -acquaintances brought with them to the Sarai no less a person than the -Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq. He had been one of those who had held -controversies with Colin during flying visits to Alibad, and he had -expressed his determination to vanquish the Kafir at last. His -language had been violent in the extreme, his taunts and provocations -almost unbearable; but Colin had kept his temper, and discomfited his -opponent by appealing to the audience to contrast the tone of their -respective arguments. The Mirza had departed in a rage, and the very -next day, in passing one of the colleges, Colin had been assailed by a -tumultuous throng of students, who poured out upon him, and, seizing -him, demanded that he should abjure Christianity. Upon his refusal to -repeat the _Kalima_ they had set upon him with sticks and stones, and -he was only rescued by a body of the city police, who arrested him and -carried him off to the palace, the precincts of which included the -prison. Since then nothing had been heard of him. Saadullah had made -tentative and cautious inquiries in every possible direction, but the -only result was to bring upon himself a warning from the head of the -police that he also was suspected, as having brought the Kafir into -the city, and would do well to keep his mouth shut and finish his -business in Gamara as quickly as he could. By inquiry from the friends -of other prisoners, it was ascertained that Colin was not in the -common prison; but this only lent fresh horror to his fate, for to the -awful regions beyond no one penetrated. And nothing had been heard of -Ferrers, either good or bad. - -When Penelope heard the news she fainted, and recovered only to beg -Lady Haigh piteously to ask Major Keeling to come to her. She must see -him, she said, when her friend demurred; and Lady Haigh, with some -misgivings, sent off the note. She felt that she would like to warn -Major Keeling when he arrived, and yet she did not know exactly what -she feared, but there had been a wild look in Penelope’s eyes which -frightened her. - -“She is not herself. You will make allowances?” she said eagerly, as -she took him into the drawing-room. - -“Make allowances--I, for her?” he said, with such an accent of -reproach that Lady Haigh was too much flurried to explain that she was -anxious he should not be drawn into doing anything rash. It was some -comfort to her to notice how big and strong he looked, not the kind of -man who would allow himself to be hurried into unwisdom, and she could -not wonder that Penelope felt him a tower of strength. But the words -which reached her as she left the room made her stop her ears and -hurry away in despair. She knew exactly how Penelope had run to meet -him, white-faced, trembling, with dilated eyes, and seized his hand in -both hers as she cried, “Oh, Major Keeling, save him, save him!” - -“What is it you want me to do?” he asked her, the laborious speeches -of condolence he had prepared all forgotten. - -“I thought--oh, surely, you will go to Gamara, won’t you? You are so -well known, and the natives have such a regard for you--you could make -them give him up.” - -He shook his head. The childlike simplicity of the appeal was almost -irresistible, but he knew better than she did how hopeless such an -attempt would be made by the very fame of which she spoke. - -“Oh, don’t say you won’t do it!” she entreated. “He is all I have.” - -“Listen,” he said. “You know I thought the journey so dangerous that I -refused to the last to let your brother go. Yet there was a chance for -him. For me there would be none, the moment I set foot beyond our own -border. You will do me the justice to believe that I would not grudge -my life if losing it could do any good, but it could do none. And even -if it would, I could not go. I am in command here, and I cannot desert -my post.” - -She looked at him as though she had not heard him. “It is Colin,” she -said; “all I have. And you said--you cared.” - -“And you say I don’t if I won’t go?” he asked sharply. “Then you are -talking of what you don’t understand. I could not leave Khemistan -if--even if it was your life, and not your brother’s, that was at -stake--even if it tore my heart out.” - -Penelope passed her hand over her brow. “No,” she said feebly, “it -would not signify then. But for Colin!” - -“Sit down and listen to me quietly. I have pacified this frontier, and -I am the only man who can keep it quiet. Nalapur is only looking for a -pretext to break with us; if my back was turned they would invade us -without one. My post is here; it is my duty to remain; I will -not--dare not leave it. Penelope, do you ask me to leave it? If you -do, I am mistaken in you. Look up, and tell me.” - -Penelope raised her head as if compelled by his tone, and her eyes met -his. “No,” she said helplessly, “it would be wrong. You must not go. -But oh, Colin, Colin!” - -She bowed her head again and broke into a passion of sobs, for her -last hope was gone. She heard Major Keeling get up and walk up and -down the room, and knew that her sobs were agonising to him, but she -could not restrain them. At last she found him close to her again, his -hand on her shoulder. - -“Dear,” he said, “let us bear it together. When you are in the -doctor’s hands after a fight, it helps if there’s a friend beside you, -whose hand you can grip hard. Take mine, Penelope.” - -Her sobs ceased, and she looked at him wonderingly through her tears. -He went on speaking in the same low, deeply moved voice-- - -“I can’t bear to leave you to go through it alone. Let me help. You -know I know what trouble is. Give me the right to share yours.” - -“Now--when Colin may be tortured, starving, dying? Oh, how can you?” -cried Penelope. “Oh, go, go away, and never talk like this again. I -don’t want my trouble to be less. Why should I? Share it! how can you -share it? you won’t even--no, I don’t mean that. I have only Colin, -and he has only me.” - -He looked down hopelessly at her bowed head. “I cannot desert my -post,” he said, and turned to leave her. - -“Oh no, no!” cried Penelope, following him. “It was wicked of me to -say what I did. Only, please don’t talk like that again. Let me feel -you are a real friend. Oh, you will help him if you can, won’t you?” - -“I dare not encourage you to hope for your brother’s safety, but it -might be possible to obtain news of him. If it can be done, it shall -be. Trust me--and forgive me.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - A WOUNDED SPIRIT. - -Instead of appearing in the gardens that evening, Major Keeling rode -out, accompanied only by an orderly, to Sheikhgarh. He had never met -the Sheikh-ul-Jabal face to face since the day of the eclipse and of -his triumphant vindication, but important pieces of information had -come to him several times by strange messengers, testifying to the -friendliness of the recluse. Curious to relate, the destruction of the -marvellous legend which had grown up about the supposed identity of -the two men seemed to have had little or no effect. The dwellers on -the border and the tribesmen alike possessed a strong love of the -miraculous, and resented the attempt to deprive them of a wonder. -Taking refuge in the fact that only a very few people, and most of -those Europeans, had seen Major Keeling and the Sheikh side by side, -they maintained with obstinate pertinacity their original theory that -the one man led a double existence--as British commandant by day and -head of the Brotherhood of the Mountains by night. From this belief -nothing could move them, and as the result tended to the peace of the -border, their rulers had left off trying to convince them against -their will. It is to be feared that Ismail Bakhsh, the orderly, -foresaw a large increase of credit to himself from this journey, by -the unconcealed joy with which he entered upon it; and yet, marvellous -as were the tales he told on his return, his experiences were confined -to remaining with his horse at the point where visitors to the -fortress were first challenged. To Major Keeling’s astonishment, no -attempt was made to blindfold him on this occasion, the guards saying -that they had orders from the Sheikh to admit Kīlin Sahib freely -whenever he might come, and he rode with them to the gate of the -fortress, noticing the care with which the place was defended. This -time the Sheikh came to meet him at the entrance, and taking him up to -the room over the gateway, possibly from fear of eavesdroppers in the -great hall, sent away all his attendants as soon as the proper -salutations had passed. He seemed anxious, and was evidently expecting -news of importance. - -“There is no message from Nalapur--no outbreak?” he asked eagerly, as -soon as they were alone. - -“I have heard nothing,” answered Major Keeling in surprise. “What news -should there be?” - -“It is well. Yet there must be news soon. The Amir and Gobind Chand -are, as it were, crossing a gulf by a rope-bridge--one false step -means destruction. But they will not return to firm ground.” - -“But you sent me word that the Sardars refused to stand their -exactions and oppression any longer, and that they had been obliged to -promise to meet them, and inquire into their grievances.” - -“True, and the assembly is to meet this week; but what will follow? -Are Wilayat Ali and the Vizier men who will render back the gains they -have extorted? Not so; they will divert the minds of the Sardars by -making war upon one of their neighbours. And which neighbour will that -be?” - -“All right. Let them come!” laughed Major Keeling. “If they are fools -enough to hurl themselves on our guns they must. I have done all I -could to keep the peace. When is it to be--at the end of the week?” - -“Nay, not so soon. They will but inflame the minds of the Sardars, and -send them home to prepare for war. It cannot begin yet.” - -“Then what were you afraid of? You seemed to expect danger of some -sort.” - -“I feared one of those false steps of which I spoke. The Amir and -Gobind Chand might have acted foolishly in trying to seize or murder -some of the Sardars, or the Sardars might have sought to avenge their -wrongs by killing them. Then the country would have fallen into such -confusion that I must needs act, and the time is not come.” - -“Then you have an axe of your own to grind!” cried Major Keeling. “It -can’t be allowed, Sheikh. You must not plot against a neighbouring -power while you are on British territory.” - -The Sheikh looked at him with something like contempt. “Why does -Kīlin Sahib thus allow his wrath to bubble up? To what purpose should -I plot against the Nalapur usurper? For myself I need no more than I -have here.” - -“But what do you mean? Why should you take action?” - -“Does not Kīlin Sahib see that it might fall to me to use all -possible efforts to restore peace if there should be civil war in -Nalapur? I am known to all parties, but attached to none of them, and -I am near of kin to the royal house.” - -“I don’t believe that was what you meant, but you look honest enough,” -muttered Major Keeling in English. Aloud he said, “Well, Sheikh, -understand that you must not undertake anything of the kind on your -own account. I am responsible for this frontier, and I may be very -glad to make use of your good offices, but I can’t have you forcing my -hand.” - -“Fear not,” said the Sheikh. “For another month I can do nothing, and -it is my strongest hope that Nalapur will remain peaceful at least as -long. If there is opportunity, I will send word to Alibad before -taking any step, but if Wilayat Ali and Gobind Chand move first, do -not blame me.” - -“I don’t like all these mysteries, Sheikh. What is it that holds you -back for a month, and also keeps Nalapur quiet?” - -“They are two different things, sahib. The lapse of time will set me -free to act, but the Amir and Gobind Chand will not go to war until -their embassy has returned from Gamara.” - -“From Gamara? Why, that was the very---- What are they doing there?” - -“Their embassy to the Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq,” said the Sheikh, evidently -enjoying his visitor’s astonishment. - -“But I came to speak to you about that very man. What in the world -have they got to do with him at Nalapur?” - -“Has Kīlin Sahib forgotten that the man was employed by Gobind Chand -and his master as a spy upon me, and that after attempting to slay me -he escaped? Disowned by Firoz Sahib, in whose service he had been, he -durst not remain in Khemistan, and he feared to return to Nalapur, -having failed in his mission. But both at Bab-us-Sahel and at Shah -Nawaz he had gained much information as to the plans and methods of -the English, and he knew that the Khan of Gamara would rejoice to -obtain this. Therefore he fled thither, and by reason of the news he -brought, and his own art and cleverness in making himself useful to -the Khan, was speedily raised to be one of his councillors and keeper -of the prison.” Major Keeling nodded assent. “But now the Amir and -Gobind Chand need his services again, for he knows many things about -the Brotherhood--of which he is a perjured member--and this stronghold -of mine, and some months ago it came to my knowledge that they had -sent messengers with rich gifts and great promises, to desire him to -return to Nalapur. That he dares not do, for if he sought to leave -Gamara after the favours he has received, the Khan would kill him; but -if the gifts were large enough, doubtless he would tell the messengers -all, or nearly all, that he knows. Therefore I say that Wilayat Ali -and the Vizier will not make war until the messengers return.” - -“But you may not hear of their return. They may come back secretly. -They may have returned now.” - -Again the Sheikh smiled pityingly. “Nay, sahib; was the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal born in the town of fools? Following close upon the -Nalapuri embassy went a messenger of mine in the garb of a holy -dervish, who entered Gamara only very shortly after them, and was -bound to remain in the city, performing the proper rites at each -mosque and holy place in turn, as long as they were there, and then to -attach himself to their caravan for the return journey. Having gone -with them as far as Nalapur, he will change his disguise and return -hither.” - -“Then he has not returned yet?” asked Major Keeling meditatively. - -“Have I not said it? Moreover, a secret word was brought me from him -by one in Saadullah Kermani’s caravan to the effect that he thought -the messengers would not leave Gamara for three or four weeks.” - -“Three or four weeks after Saadullah? Then he may bring later news. -This is the very matter on which I came to speak to you, Sheikh. You -know that two of my officers have gone to Gamara and disappeared?” - -“Firoz Sahib, who has adopted the faith of Islam, and Rāss Sahib, -whom the people call the Father of a Book,” said the Sheikh calmly. - -“Those two; and we--I--want to know the truth about them, not simply -bazar gossip. When your man comes back, ask him if he has learnt -anything. If he has been keeping watch on Fazl-ul-Hacq, he ought to -have found out something, surely. If there is no news, it may mean -that they are both in prison still, and you might be able to suggest -some way of getting them liberated.” - -The Sheikh stroked his beard slowly. “It may be so,” he said. -“Nevertheless, you may be well assured, sahib, that the bazar talk is -true so far as relates to Firoz Sahib. As to Rāss Sahib, they say he -is dead, and I am ready to believe it. But when my messenger returns I -will send him to you, and you shall ask him any questions you will. -But when he returns, then will be the time to keep good watch along -the Nalapur border.” - -Quite agreeing with this opinion, Major Keeling took his leave, and as -he rode home, thought over what he had heard. The still unexplained -reason which kept the Sheikh from taking any active part in the -affairs of Nalapur must be in some way connected with his vow of -seclusion, he thought. Perhaps it had been taken for a term of years, -which would end in a month. He was more disappointed than surprised by -the Sheikh’s evident reluctance to help in taking any steps for -Colin’s rescue, but he could not help feeling that there was a change -in the man. Had he worn a mask hitherto, and was he now letting it -fall; or were his feelings towards the English altering, and his -friendship turning to hostility? Major Keeling had hoped that by means -of the host of agents who kept the Sheikh in touch with all parts of -Central Asia he would have been able to arrange at least that Colin -should be ransomed; but he could realise the risk involved in any step -that might reveal to the orthodox supporters of tyranny the presence -in their midst of members of the heretical brotherhood. However, if -the dervish brought no news, it might be possible to engage him to -undertake another journey to Gamara for the express purpose of -inquiring into Colin’s fate, and this was all that could be hoped for -at present. - -To this conclusion Major Keeling came reluctantly just as he reached -the point from which Alibad could first be seen as he emerged from the -hills. The sun had already set, but the desert was lighted up by a -gorgeous after-glow, which was equally kind in bringing out the best -points of the view and in hiding its defects. Alibad was no longer the -cluster of mud huts which its ruler had found it. The white and buff -and pink walls of the new houses shone out brilliantly over their -screen of young trees, and the dun mass of the fort, with its squat -turrets, seemed to brood protectingly above the lower buildings. The -native town was a formless blur in the gathering darkness to the left, -and on the right, along the line of the temporary canal which supplied -the place until the great works already in progress should be -completed, were blots and splashes of green, marking the patches of -irrigated land where cultivation was in full swing. The programme -which Major Keeling had drawn up when he came to Khemistan was in -process of realisation, and that very fact chained him to the soil. He -had not allowed Penelope to see how much he was tempted to undertake -the mission she had proposed to him. It was the kind of thing that -appealed to him most strongly--to throw off the burden of routine, -have done with office-work, and plunge into the desert, where his hand -would be against every man’s, and his life would depend alternately on -his sword and his tongue. The proposal fascinated him even now; but -before him lay the town which was at once the sign and the result of -his labours. He shook the reins, roused Miani from a blissful -contemplation of nothing, and trotted briskly home across the plain, -followed by Ismail Bakhsh. - -After this visit to Sheikhgarh there was another month of waiting. -Major Keeling warned all his officers to be on the look-out for a -fakir or dervish who might come with a message; but although several -members of the fraternity presented themselves as usual in search of -alms, and were given every opportunity to speak if they would, none of -them had anything particular to say. The month had more than elapsed -when one day a respectable elderly man, dressed like an attendant of -some great family, and with a scribe’s inkhorn at his girdle, asked -leave to present a petition to Kīlin Sahib. Applicants of this sort -were always plentiful, owing to the breaking-up of the huge households -maintained by all the native princes before the annexation; and it was -Major Keeling’s policy to find employment for as many of them as -possible, lest they should seek to obtain a precarious livelihood by -going up and down among the ignorant peasantry and agitating against -British rule. The man was admitted into the office, and Sir Dugald, -who was sitting at a little distance, saw him put his hands together -in a submissive attitude, and heard him begin to pour out a long -rigmarole in low tones. But almost as Sir Dugald distinguished the -words “dervish” and “Gamara,” Major Keeling rose from his chair. - -“Come in here,” he said, opening the door of his private office. -“Haigh, you come too. Now, Kutb-ud-Din, let us have your story.” - -“The servant of my lord has little to tell him, but it is that which -he is anxious to know. For when my lord’s servant was at Gamara -disguised as a most holy dervish, so that he wore no clothes but a -rough mantle, and painted his body blue, and left his hair and beard -wild and long, he heard one day of a great sight that was to be seen -in the square before the palace. And forasmuch as his religious -meditation was interrupted by the passing to and fro and the loud -speaking of those that hurried to see this sight, he asked them what -it might be. And one told him one thing and one another, but all -agreed that it was such a sight as would rejoice the heart of a holy -man, and therefore my lord’s servant determined to go thither. And -coming to the square, the people made way for him, so that he stood at -last in a good place, and saw the Khan and a great company of soldiers -and counsellors come out of the palace. And at the head of the Khan’s -bodyguard he saw the Farangi, Firoz Sahib, of whose conversion all the -city had been talking, so great were the festivities at his -initiation----” - -“Stop!” said Major Keeling hoarsely. “Are you certain it was Ferrers -Sahib?” - -“My lord’s servant will swear it, if my lord so wills. Has he not -often beheld Firoz Sahib, both here and at Shah Nawaz? Moreover, his -history was known to all in Gamara. It seemed to my lord’s servant -that Firoz Sahib had been drinking _bang_, for his eyes were bright -and his face flushed, and Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, the renegade, rode at -his bridle-rein, as though to restrain him. And afterwards, when the -people were slow to disperse, he ordered the soldiers to charge the -crowd, and escaping from his friend the Mirza, rode down a Jew who -stood in his way, so that all who saw him fled. But that was not until -after----” - -“After what? Go on,” said Major Keeling impatiently, as the man -hesitated. - -“Let my lord pardon his servant, if that which he has to say is not -pleasing to his ears, for the dust under my lord’s feet can but tell -what he saw. There was led out into the square, before the Khan and -his court and army, another Farangi, wearing chains that would not -suffer him to walk upright, and clothed in shameful rags; and a -whisper went about among the people that it was the young sahib whom -they called the Father of a Book.” - -“And was it?” demanded Major Keeling. - -“How can the servant of my lord say? It so chances that his eyes never -rested upon the young sahib while he was among his own people. But -this sahib was young and tall and lean, and white like a wall--yea, -even his hair was white, yet reddish-white like that of the sahibs, -not pure white like that of the people of this land----” - -“White--in those few weeks!” breathed Sir Dugald. - -“Yes, yes, go on,” said Major Keeling to the narrator. - -“And when the Farangi was brought out, proclamation was made by a -herald that his Highness, in his clemency, would offer the Kafir his -life on certain conditions, and that questions should be put to him in -Persian, and translated into Turki, so that the people might hear. -Then came forward Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, the accursed, and by command of -his Highness, asked the Farangi, ‘Wilt thou adopt the creed of Islam -and enter my army, like thy countryman yonder?’ But the Farangi, -drawing himself up in spite of his chains, made answer, ‘I am an -Englishman and a Christian, and I will neither enter thine army nor -become a Mohammedan. I choose rather to die.’ Then his Highness, in -great wrath, cried, ‘And die thou shalt!’ and the Farangi’s head was -struck off by an executioner with a great sword.” - -“And did he never look at Ferrers Sahib, or speak to him?” asked Major -Keeling. - -“Nay, sahib; he kept his eyes turned away from him.” - -“That was not like Ross,” said Major Keeling to Sir Dugald. - -“But suppose Ferrers had visited poor Ross in prison, sir--tried to -get him to abjure Christianity?” suggested Sir Dugald. “He could not -have much to say to him after that.” - -“I don’t know. I should have expected Ross to think of him to the end. -And that was all?” asked Major Keeling of the messenger. - -“That was all, sahib; except that the Farangi’s body was exposed at -the place of execution, with the insults customary when a Kafir has -been executed, and that among the crowd there were some who said, in -the hearing of my lord’s servant, that in slaying the young Sahib the -Khan had certainly invited judgments, for there was a spirit in him.” - -“And that is all!” said Major Keeling heavily. “You have done well, O -Kutb-ud-Din, in bringing us this news. Here!” he scribbled an order -hastily, “take this to the pay-clerk without, and receive the rupees -he will give you. You may go. Now, Haigh,” he turned to Sir Dugald as -the old man bowed himself out with profuse thanks, “you must go home -and get your wife to break this to Miss Ross--and God help them both!” - -Once more there had come to Penelope, who thought she had given up all -hope, a blow which showed her that she had been unconsciously -cherishing a belief in Colin’s safety. He might escape from prison, -might be ransomed, his captors might even relent and release -him--there was always the chance of one of these; but now hope was -definitely taken away. And one terrible thought was in Penelope’s mind -day and night--it was her fault that he had gone to Gamara. At present -she could not even remember for her comfort the happier days which had -preceded his departure; she could only look back upon the past and -judge herself more harshly than Colin had ever judged her. Day after -day and night after night she tormented herself with that most -unprofitable of mental exercises--unprofitable, because the same -circumstances are never likely to recur in the experience of the same -person--of going over the events of the last two or three years, and -noting where she might have acted differently, with how much happier -results! If she had only been altogether different! If she had never -allowed herself to lose faith in Ferrers, if she had refused to -believe in the revelations which met her at Bab-us-Sahel, if she had -been willing to marry him before coming to Alibad, instead of putting -him on probation! If she had only loved him better--so that he would -not have had the heart to leave her to go to Gamara, or, having gone -there, would have found her love such a shield to him that he could -not have denied his faith! Her reason told her that it was impossible, -that Ferrers and she had grown so far apart that the woman could not -have given him the enthusiastic devotion which had been showered upon -him by the romantic little girl; but she blamed herself for the -change. Colin had never altered--why should she? It must have been -something wrong in herself that had made her first fail Ferrers when -he needed her, and at last draw upon herself Colin’s stern rebuke by -declaring that she could not keep her promise. If it had not been for -her Ferrers would not have gone to Gamara, and, but for him, Colin -would not have gone either. She was morally guilty of Colin’s death -and Ferrers’ abjuration of Christianity. And thus the awful round went -on, every variation in argument or recollection bringing her to the -same terrible conclusion, until Penelope almost persuaded herself that -she was as guilty in the sight of others as in her own. Every one must -know that she had those two lost lives on her conscience. They were -sorry for her, but how could they help blaming her? and she withdrew -herself from their pitying eyes. Lady Haigh humoured her at first, -when she insisted on taking her rides at a time when no one else was -about; but when Penelope refused to go out at all, and sat all day in -a sheltered corner of the house-top, looking northward to the -mountains, she became seriously alarmed. - -“Miss Ross not coming again?” asked Sir Dugald when the horses were -brought round one evening, and he had helped his wife to mount. - -“No, I can’t get her to come. The very thought seems to frighten her.” - -“Must be frightfully bad for her to mope indoors like this,” was Sir -Dugald’s prosaic comment. “Can’t you get her to exert herself a -little?” - -“Really, Dugald, one would think I was Mrs Chick. Why don’t you tell -me to get her to make an effort? She and I are so different, you see. -If I was in dreadful trouble I should work as hard as I could--at -anything, and entreat my friends, if they loved me, to find me -something to do. But Pen has left off even the things she usually -does, and simply sits and cries all day. I can’t very well suggest to -her that it’s rather selfish, can I?--though I know it must make the -house dreadfully dull for you.” - -“Oh, don’t mind me,” said Sir Dugald kindly. “I have my consolations. -You are not a pale image of despair, at any rate.” - -“And the way she refuses to see people! Of course, no one would dream -of expecting her even to appear at a dinner-party, but to rush away if -poor little Mr Harris comes in, or any of them! Dugald”--her voice was -lowered--“do you remember that poor Mrs Wyndham at Bab-us-Sahel, whose -husband died of cholera on their honeymoon? She went mad, you know.” - -“My dear Elma, pray don’t suggest such horrors. Why not get Tarleton -to come up and see Miss Ross?” - -“She won’t see him; that’s just it. But I have asked him to seize the -first opportunity he can of dropping in and taking her by surprise. -Then we shall know better what to do. Dugald!--I have an idea. Are you -ready to make a sacrifice?” - -“When I know what it is, I’ll tell you.” - -“Oh, but it would be better for you not to know, you see.” - -“Thanks. I would rather not find myself pledged to throw up the -service, or get leave home, if it’s all the same to you.” - -“It’s nothing of that sort--merely a way of spending the next two or -three months. No, it’s not expensive--not like going down to the coast -or to the Hills. But it will be very quiet and dull, and no chance of -fighting. Oh, don’t guess. I want to be able to tell the Chief that -you know nothing about it, so that if he is angry he mayn’t scold you. -You would sacrifice yourself to help Penelope, wouldn’t you?” - -“H’m, well--within limits,” said Sir Dugald. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - THE ISLE OF AVILION. - -“Miss Sahib, the Doctor Sahib!” - -“The door is shut,” said Penelope hastily; but Dr Tarleton had -followed the servant up the stairs, and now stood on the house-top -confronting her. She glanced wildly round for a way of escape, but -there was none, and she was obliged to go forward and hold out a -nerveless hand to him. He looked her steadily in the face. - -“It’s no good trying to run away from me, Miss Ross. I was determined -to see you.” - -“Thank you, but there is nothing the matter with me,” wilfully -misunderstanding him. - -“Not with you, perhaps, but with other people.” He sat down, -uninvited. - -“Oh, if I can be of any use----” but she spoke listlessly, and her -eyes had sought the mountains again. - -The doctor regarded her with a kind of restrained fury. “It makes -one’s blood boil,” he burst out, “to see a man--old enough to know -better, too--breaking his heart over a girl’s silly whims, and then to -find the girl absolutely wrapped up in herself and her own selfish -sorrow!” - -“Are you speaking of me?” asked Penelope, turning to him in -astonishment. She could scarcely believe her ears. - -“I am, and of the Chief. How dare you treat him in this way? Isn’t it -enough for a man to have the whole military and civil charge of the -district, and the burden of keeping the peace all along this frontier, -upon his shoulders, without his work being made harder by the woman -who ought to help him? Do you know that he worries himself about you -to such an extent that it interferes with his work?” - -“I didn’t know---- What do you mean? Did he tell you?” stammered -Penelope, utterly confounded by this attack. - -“Tell me? Do you know him no better than that? Of course not. But I -have eyes, and Keeling and I have been friends for five-and-twenty -years. Do you expect me to be blind when I know he can’t settle to -anything, and snaps at every one who comes near him, and contradicts -his own orders, and rides all night instead of taking proper rest? -Don’t pretend it’s not your fault. You know it is. For some reason or -other he does you the honour to care for you, and you won’t see him or -speak to him or send him a message, until he takes it into his head -that he has mortally offended you--how or why, you know best.” - -“I didn’t know,” murmured Penelope again. “Oh, but you must be -mistaken. It isn’t like him. Why should he care so much--all because -of me?” - -“Don’t know, I’m sure. Some men are made that way,” said the doctor -grimly. “But there it is. And you, who ought to be on your knees -thanking God for the love of such a man, are doing your best to drive -him mad. What is a woman’s heart made of? Don’t you see what an honour -it is for you that he should even have thought of you? Don’t let me -see you laugh. Don’t dare.” - -“I--I’m not laughing,” she faltered hysterically. “But--but--oh, why -didn’t he come himself instead of sending you? I never thought----” - -“I should imagine he didn’t come because you have never allowed him to -see you for weeks. But as for his sending me----!” the doctor laughed -stormily. “If you want to punish me for what I have said to you, all -you have to do is to tell him I have been here, and what I came for. I -don’t think the province would hold me. But I don’t care, if it meant -that you would treat him properly. Do you know what Keeling did for -me? You mayn’t think it to look at me now, but I was as wild as the -best of them when I knew him first. He was a queer, long-legged -youngster when he joined the old --th, as dark as a native, pretty -nearly--‘fifteen annas’ was what they generally called him--and the -greenest, most innocent creature you can imagine. He must have had a -terrible time, for there was scarcely a single thing he did like other -people--I know I took my share in making his life a burden to him. -Well, we had been having a big _tamasha_ of some sort one night, when -I was called to a bad case in hospital. An operation was needed, and -I insisted on doing it at once. It was a thing that demanded a steady -hand--and my hand was not steady--you can guess why. Something -slipped--and the man died. An inquiry was called for, and I knew that -I was ruined. There was only one thing to be done that I could see--to -blow out my brains--and I was just going to do it when Keeling came -in. None of the other men had come near me, though they must have -guessed, as he had done, what I was up to, but I suppose they thought -it was the best way out of it for me. He stopped me, though I fought -him for the pistol--vowed I should not do it, and talked to me until I -gave in. Of his own free will he offered never to touch wine or -spirits again if I would do the same, and actually entreated me to -accept the offer. He came and chummed with me in my bungalow--the -other men had cleared out; I daresay I was as savage as a bear--and -stood by me all through the inquiry. I lost my post--had to begin -again at the bottom of the list of assistant-surgeons--but he stood by -me. We were through the Ethiopian War together, and when Old Harry -picked him out to come up here and raise the Khemistan Horse, he got -leave for me to come too. Now you see what I owe to him; but he may -kick me out of Khemistan, and welcome, if it means that you will only -treat him decently.” - -“Indeed, indeed I have tried,” cried Penelope, with tears in her eyes, -“but I cannot meet him. It is like that with the others--I make up my -mind that I will see them, and try to talk, but as soon as I hear them -in the verandah I feel that I cannot meet their eyes, and I rush out -of the room.” - -“Pure nervousness. You must get over it, Miss Ross. No one expects you -not to grieve for your brother, but this sort of thing can do the poor -fellow no good, and it is very hard on those who are left.” - -“I know they must feel it is my fault----” - -“What?” shouted the doctor. “Your fault that your brother was -murdered? Come, come, this is arrant nonsense. You don’t mean to say -that you are making Keeling miserable on account of this delusion?” - -“No, it is worse with him.” She spoke very low. “I have never told -even Lady Haigh; but whenever I see Major Keeling, or even think of -him, Colin’s face seems to rise up before me--not dead, but as the -dervish described it, white and thin, and his hair white too. And I -can’t help feeling that it may be a--warning.” - -“A fiddlestick! Oh, you Scotch people, with your portents and your -visions! A warning of what?” - -“You don’t know--perhaps I ought not to tell you--but I am sure Colin -would have disapproved of my--caring for Major Keeling. And we were -twins, you know--what if he comes to show me that he disapproves of it -still?” She looked at him with wide eyes of terror. - -“Then you don’t know that in talking to Lady Haigh he gave her to -understand that he had no objection to your marrying the Chief--excuse -me if I speak plainly--and even looked forward to it? She told me as -much when she was confiding to me her anxiety about you.” - -“Colin said that to Elma, and she told you--and never told me!” - -“Why, how could she? Of course she felt the time hadn’t come--that you -would think her brutal, or horrid, or whatever young ladies call it. -She mentioned it to me in confidence, and I had no business to repeat -it; but I’m the sort of person that rushes in where angels fear to -tread--am I not? Having once opened my attack, I couldn’t keep my -biggest gun idle, could I? What! you won’t condescend to answer me?” - -“I am trying to understand,” she said in a low voice. “It ought to -make such a difference, and yet--there is Colin’s face.” - -“My dear Miss Ross,” he spoke earnestly, as her eyes questioned his, -“this illusion of yours is purely physical. You have been brooding -over your brother’s fate for months, and living a most unhealthy -life--eating only enough to keep body and soul together, and refusing -to take exercise or accept any distraction. The wonder would have been -if you had not seen visions after it. Now that you know the truth -about your brother’s feelings, don’t you agree with me that nothing -would have grieved him more than to know you had made such a bugbear -of him? At any rate, let us put the illusion to the test. You must -have a thorough change--Lady Haigh and I will arrange it--and see -nothing for a time of any of the people here. You don’t mind the -Haighs, I suppose? Very well; then the illusion will disappear, if I -am right. If not, you must see Keeling once, and definitely bring -things to an end. He is not the man to break his heart for a woman who -hasn’t courage to accept him”--he saw that Penelope winced--“but it is -this undecided state of affairs that is the trouble. And if you have -any heart at all, you will let him know that it is not his fault, and -that you hope things will be different in future.” - -“But how can I?” cried Penelope, following him as he took up his -_topi_ and went towards the stairs. - -“How can I tell you? I only know what you ought to do; surely you can -devise a way of doing it. I wouldn’t have wasted my trouble on most -women, but it seemed to me that the woman Keeling cared for ought to -have more sense than the general run, and you’ve taken it better than -I expected. Put all that nonsense about warnings out of your head, and -leave the dead alone and think of the living. That’s all I have to -say,” and he was gone. - -It seemed as if Penelope was to have no reason for refusing to follow -Dr Tarleton’s advice, for Lady Haigh found an opportunity of unfolding -her plan to Major Keeling that very evening. He had invited her to -dismount and walk up and down with him while listening to the band, -and she gathered her long habit over her arm and seized her chance -joyfully. - -“You will think I am always asking for favours, Major Keeling, but I -want this one very much. Will you send my husband to inspect the -south-western district instead of Captain Porter?” - -“But Porter has his orders, and is making preparations,” he said, -looking at her in astonishment. “Have you quarrelled with Haigh, that -you are so anxious to banish him?” - -“Quarrelled? banish him? Oh, I see what you mean. How absurd! Of -course Miss Ross and I are going too.” - -“Are you, indeed? And may I ask whether the idea is Haigh’s or yours?” - -“Oh, mine. He doesn’t know anything about it.” - -“So I imagined.” He was looking at her rather doubtfully. “And have -you any particular reason for wishing to go?” - -“I think it will do Miss Ross good--to take her away from old -associations, and people that she knows, I means.” - -“And from me especially?” he asked bitterly. Lady Haigh answered him -with unexpected frankness. - -“Exactly--from you especially,” she said. “I really believe she will -appreciate you better at a distance--no, not quite that. I want her to -miss you. At present it is a kind of religious duty to Colin’s memory -not to have anything to do with you; but when you are not there I -think she will see that she has been turning her back on what ought to -be her greatest blessing and comfort.” - -Major Keeling looked as if he could have blushed. “Very well,” he said -meekly. “If you can bring Haigh round to it, you shall go.” - -“And shall I put it right with Captain Porter?” asked Lady Haigh, with -an easy assurance born of success. “I know he’ll be quite willing to -stay here if I tell him it’s for Pen’s sake,” she added to herself. - -“Thank you, I think I am the best person to do that,” he replied, and -again Lady Haigh caught the doubtful look in his eyes, of which she -was reminded later when she found that the change of plan had put her -husband into a very bad temper, though he would not give her any -reason for it. The fact was that, as the Sheikh-ul-Jabal had -predicted, the return from Gamara of the envoys sent to consult Mirza -Fazl-ul-Hacq, with whom his dervish follower had travelled, seemed to -have been the signal for the Nalapuri authorities to begin a series of -hostile acts. Troops--or rather the ragged levies of the various -Sardars--were being massed in threatening proximity to the frontier, -fugitive criminals were sheltered and their surrender refused, and a -preposterous claim was put forward to the exclusive ownership of all -the wells within a certain distance of the border-line. The Amir was -undoubtedly aiming at provoking hostilities, and war might begin at -any moment. To Major Keeling it was a most comforting thought that the -European ladies could so easily be placed in safety without alarming -them, for the south-western district was protected against any attack -from Nalapur by a natural bulwark, the hills in which Sheikhgarh was -situated; and the obvious course for an invading army was to pour -across the frontier by way of the plains, with the undefended Alibad -as its first objective. But to Sir Dugald, who knew the state of -affairs as well as the Commandant, the case was different. He was the -natural protector of his wife and Penelope, and it was only to be -expected that he should remain to guard them, even in the place of -safety to which Major Keeling was so glad to consign them--and this -while there would be fighting going on round Alibad, and his beloved -guns would be delivered over to the tender mercies of little Harris or -any other subaltern who might choose to turn artilleryman for the -nonce! Sir Dugald registered a solemn vow that when the news of -hostilities came, he would leave his wife and Penelope in the nearest -fortified village, and make all speed back to Alibad himself. Elma -could not protest, after all she had said, and he would miss only the -very beginning of the fight. The thought consoled him, and he was even -able to take pleasure in withholding the reasons for anxiety from Lady -Haigh, who would have refused point-blank to leave Alibad if she had -guessed that fighting was imminent in its neighbourhood. Accordingly -he interposed no obstacles in the way of an immediate start, and as -Lady Haigh was as anxious to be gone as Major Keeling was to hurry her -off, the necessary preparations were soon made. Penelope was roused -perforce from her lethargy, and set to work, and she responded the -more readily to the stimulus that Dr Tarleton’s vigorous expostulation -seemed already to have waked her to something like hope again. -Nevertheless, she still felt unable to face Major Keeling; and it was -with a shock that on the afternoon of the start from Alibad she saw -him riding up the street, with the evident design of seeing the -travellers on their way. He made no attempt to attach himself to her, -however, apologising for his presence by saying that he had some last -directions to give Sir Dugald, and the two men rode on together. They -had nearly reached the hills before Major Keeling turned back, and -Lady Haigh at once claimed her husband’s attention. - -“Dugald, do you think my horse has a shoe loose? There seems to be -something queer about his foot, but I didn’t like to interrupt you -before.” - -Calling up one of the grooms, Sir Dugald dismounted and went to his -wife’s assistance, and in the hum of excited talk which ensued, Major -Keeling had a momentary opportunity of speaking to Penelope. - -“Am I to hope that this change will do you good, and enable you to -come back here?” he asked, bending towards her from his tall horse. - -“Oh, I--I hope so,” she stammered. “Why?” - -“Do you hope so? Wouldn’t you rather be ordered home?” - -His tone, restrained though it was, told Penelope that the question -was a crucial one. With a great effort she raised her eyes to his. “I -hope with all my heart to come back to Alibad quite well,” she said. -“Because”--voice and eyes alike fell--“Khemistan holds all that I care -for--now.” - -She felt his hand on hers for a moment as she played with her pony’s -mane, and heard him say, “Thank you, thank you!” in a voice as low as -hers had been; but she knew that she had removed a load from his mind, -and she was glad she had conquered the shrinking repugnance which had -held her. The vision of Colin’s face had floated between them when she -looked at him; but she had taken her first step towards breaking the -spell, and he could not know the effort it had cost her to defy her -brother’s fancied wish as she had only once defied him in his life. As -for Major Keeling, he rode back to Alibad in a frame of mind which -made his progress a kind of steeplechase. He put Miani at every -obstacle that presented itself, and drove his orderly to despair by -leaping the temporary canal instead of going round by the bridge. As -in duty bound, Ismail Bakhsh did his best to follow; and it was only -when he had helped him and his pony out of the water, and explained -matters to a justly indignant canal official, that Major Keeling -realised the unconventional nature of his proceedings. He made the -rest of the journey more soberly, planning in his own mind the last -steps to be taken to make Alibad impregnable to a Nalapuri army. The -Amir thought the place was defenceless, not knowing that in a few -moments any street could be swept from end to end by guns mounted in -improvised batteries. It was not for nothing that Major Keeling’s own -house and the various administrative buildings were so gloomy and -massive in appearance, or that the labyrinth of lanes in the native -town could be blocked at any number of points by the simple expedient -of knocking down a few garden walls. The Commandant had no misgivings -as to the fate of the town, but he was much exercised in mind by the -necessity of waiting to be attacked. The Nalapuri Sardars knew better -than to let a single man put his foot over the border until they were -quite ready, while in the absence of an actual declaration of war -Major Keeling could not cross it to attack them, and his only fear was -that they might succeed in dashing upon Alibad and spreading panic -among the inhabitants (though they could do no more), without giving -him time to intercept them and cut them up in the open desert. He -could only rely upon the efficiency of his system of patrols, and wait -for the enemy to make the first move. - - - -Beyond the hills there was no rumour of war. The agricultural -colonies, so to speak, planted by Major Keeling on the land reclaimed -from the desert by irrigation, were prosperous and contented, and the -reformed bandits, of whom a large proportion of the colonists -consisted, were even more industrious and energetic than the -hereditary cultivators. This part of the district was kept in good -order by a European police-officer with a force composed of the -boldest spirits among the colonists, so that Sir Dugald had little to -do in the way of dispensing justice, and he passed on rapidly to the -wooded country nearer the hills. This was a kind of New Forest, -constructed by the former rulers of Khemistan as a _shikargah_ or -pleasance for hunting purposes, regardless of the objections of the -ryots, who saw their villages destroyed and their lands given over to -wild beasts. On the expulsion of their tyrants, the people had begun -to creep back to their confiscated homes; and it was one of Major -Keeling’s anxieties to ensure the proper control of this -re-immigration. The forests were valuable government property, and as -such must be protected; but where a clear title could be shown to land -on the outskirts, and the claimants were willing to face the wild -animals, he was inclined to let them return, under due supervision. -But no European officer could be spared to undertake the task; and Sir -Dugald, as he moved from place to place, found little colonies -springing up in most unpromising spots. To organise the people into -communities with some form of self-government, appoint elders who -would be responsible for the behaviour of the rest and prevent wanton -destruction of the forests, and devise the rude beginnings of a legal -and fiscal system, was his work. Nothing could be satisfactorily done -while there was no permanent official in charge; but at least the -people understood that the Sahibs meant well to them, and they were in -a measure prepared for a more formal rule when it could be -established. - -Lady Haigh and Penelope, who had not the cares of government upon -their shoulders, were much more free to enjoy themselves. They made -advances to the shy women and children of these sequestered hamlets, -who fled in terror from the white ladies, never having seen such an -alarming sight before. Sweetmeats and gaily coloured cloths were the -bribes that attracted them most readily, and after a time they would -become quite friendly, listening with uncomprehending patience while -Lady Haigh, who was a true child of her generation, tried to teach -them to adopt Western instead of Eastern ways. Those were the days in -which much stress was laid by reformers on the importance of -anglicising the native, and Lady Haigh was a good deal disheartened by -the slight result of her efforts. The women listened to her with -apparent docility, sometimes even did what she told them, under her -eye, and then went home and made their tasteless _chapatis_, or put -charms instead of eye-lotion on their babies, just as they had always -done. She gave up trying to teach them at last, and vied with Penelope -in making botanical collections, which were also a hobby of the day. -Penelope collected grasses, of which there were many varieties; and -Lady Haigh, not to be behindhand, began to collect wild-flowers, which -were much less abundant. Sir Dugald, whose tastes were not botanical, -collected skins and horns, for he managed to get a good deal of sport -in his leisure hours, and when there was nothing to shoot, he -inspected his wife’s and Penelope’s sketches, and sternly corrected -mistakes in drawing. It was a happy, healthy life, and the colour -began to return to Penelope’s cheeks and the light to her eyes. She -could think of Major Keeling now without the vision of Colin’s -anguished face rising between them, and the morbid feelings which had -preyed upon her so long had become by degrees less acute. She and Lady -Haigh called the district “the island-valley of Avilion,” rather to -the mystification of Sir Dugald, who knew his Dickens better than his -Tennyson. He was far too prudent, however, to show his bewilderment -further than by pointing out mildly that the district was neither an -island nor a valley--and besides, how could a valley be an island? - -“Dugald,” said Lady Haigh one evening, when Penelope happened to be -out of earshot, “don’t you think Major Keeling would like to pay us a -visit here?” - -“It’s not a bad place,” returned her husband, glancing round at the -tents pitched among the trees. “But who ever heard of a sub inviting -his chief out into camp to stay with him?” - -“Oh, I didn’t mean that exactly. He might come without being -definitely asked. He would be sure to like to hear how we are getting -on, wouldn’t he? Well, if I mentioned that you have had five tigers -already, and were going after another soon----” - -“You won’t mention anything of the kind,” growled Sir Dugald. “I’m -going to bag that man-eater, if any one does.” - -Lady Haigh laughed gently. “Well, perhaps I might find other -attractions as strong,” she said. “But I mean to get him here.” - -But circumstances over which she had no control were destined to -intervene. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - FIRE AND SWORD. - -“Why, Dugald, where are you off to so early?” cried Lady Haigh, -coming out of her tent at breakfast-time, and finding her husband and -his boy busy selecting guns, filling powder-flasks, and laying in a -store of bullets, flints, percussion-caps, and other necessaries -unknown to the sportsman of to-day. - -“After the man-eater. They’ve sent me _khubber_ of him at last. It’s -right out at Rajkot, so I shall be gone all day, even if I don’t have -to wait over to-night. You needn’t get nervous if I do.” - -“You might just as well let us come,” she sighed argumentatively. - -“I have far too much respect for your life--and mine. If you came you -wouldn’t be satisfied without a gun, which would go off of its own -accord, like poor Mr Winkle’s, and then--well, I would rather be the -tiger than any human being in your neighbourhood.” - -“Isn’t he horribly rude, Pen? We don’t want to go pushing through -jungle-grass after an old mangy tiger, do we? We are going to engage -in light and elegant employments suited to our sex. He knows quite -well that if I can’t shoot straight it’s his fault for not having -taught me. If only I had had the sense to learn before I came out, I -would slip away and get to Rajkot before him, and the first thing he -saw when he got there would be a dead tiger.” - -“More likely that I should find myself a sorrowing widower,” said Sir -Dugald, who was in high good humour at the prospect of getting a sixth -tiger. “No, no, stick to your weeds and straws, ladies, and don’t get -into mischief while I’m gone. You talked of going out to that dry -_jheel_ to the eastward, and you can’t do much harm there. Take -Murtiza Khan with you, of course.” - -“He’s insufferably proud because he thinks he’s going to bag the -man-eater,” said Lady Haigh. “What he will be when he comes back I -really can’t imagine. I wish I could bewitch tigers, as that old man -in the village says he can. Then I would give this one something that -would keep it miles away from Dugald, however far he went.” - -Sir Dugald laughed pleasantly over this uncharitable wish as he handed -his second gun to the _shikari_ who was to accompany him. The ponies -were already saddled, and he had only time for a mouthful of food -before starting, his last counsel to his wife being not to venture -farther from the camp than the _jheel_ he had mentioned, as the sky -was curiously hazy, and he thought the weather was going to break up. -The winter rains had been unusually slight this year, so that the -country was already beginning to look parched, and the forest foliage, -which should still have been soft and fresh, was becoming quite stiff, -and what Lady Haigh called “rattly,” though the heat was not yet too -great for camping. The climate of Khemistan is so uncertain that a -thunderstorm was at least possible; but after Sir Dugald had ridden -away to the southward, his wife decided that the haze portended heat -rather than thunder, and that it would be perfectly safe to undertake -the expedition to the _jheel_. She and Penelope started soon after -breakfast, attended only by their two grooms and Murtiza Khan, a -stalwart trooper who was Sir Dugald’s orderly on occasions like the -present, when he was in separate command. The _jheel_ proved a -disappointment, for it was so dry that the delicate bog-plants Lady -Haigh had hoped to secure were all dead, and the grasses were the -ordinary coarse varieties to be found all over the country. Lady Haigh -and Penelope soon tired of the fruitless search, and sat down to rest -on a bank pleasantly scented with sweet basil before taking to the -saddle again. They were conscious of a strong disinclination for the -ride back, the air was so hot, the track so dusty, and the forest so -shadeless. - -“It really is more like smoke than cloud,” said Lady Haigh, looking up -at the lowering sky, “and whenever there is the least breeze one -almost seems to smell smoke. I wish it wasn’t coming from the -direction of the camp. It’s horrid to leave the clear sky behind, and -ride straight into twilight. I wonder how far Dugald has got--whether -he will be out of the storm. He is sure to have fever if he gets wet. -I think I will send one of the servants after him with fresh clothes. -They would keep dry if I packed them in a tin box----” - -“What can that boy be saying?” interrupted Penelope, pointing across -the swamp to the belt of forest on the opposite side. A native boy, -unkempt and lightly clad, had appeared from among the trees, and -paused in apparent astonishment on catching sight of the two ladies -sitting in the shade, and the horses feeding quietly close at hand -under the charge of their grooms. Now he was shouting and -gesticulating wildly, and Murtiza Khan had hurried to the brink of the -reed-beds to hear what he was saying. - -“He must be warning us that the storm is coming on,” said Lady Haigh, -as the boy pointed first at the darkening sky, and then back in the -direction of the camp. “Pen! I am sure I smelt smoke at that moment. -Did you notice it?” - -Murtiza Khan turned his head for a second and shouted a sharp order to -the grooms, which made them bestir themselves to get the horses ready, -then asked some other question of the boy, who answered with more -frenzied gesticulations than ever. When the trooper seemed to persist, -he ran to a convenient tree and climbed up it like a monkey, and from -a lofty branch shouted and pointed wildly, then slid down, and -abandoning any further attempt at conversation, took to his heels and -ran at his utmost speed along the edge of the swamp towards the east, -where the sky was still clear. - -“What is it, Murtiza Khan?” asked Lady Haigh breathlessly, as the -trooper hurried up the bank towards her. - -“Highness, the forest is on fire. Will the Presences be graciously -pleased to mount at once? We must ride eastwards.” - -“But the camp? the servants? We must warn them!” cried Lady Haigh. - -“They will have seen the fire coming, Highness, for they are nearer it -than we. They will stand in the lake, and let the flames sweep over -them, and so save themselves. But we cannot go back, for we should -meet the fire before we reached the lake.” - -“But the Sahib!” cried Lady Haigh frantically. “He will be cut off. I -will not go on and leave him. We must go back.” - -“Highness, the Sahib is wise, and has with him the _shikari_ -Baha-ud-Din, who knows the forest well. He will protect himself, but -the care of the Presences falls to me.” - -“I tell you I won’t go,” cried Lady Haigh. “Take the Miss Sahib on, -and I will go back alone.” - -“It must not be, Highness. The Sahib gave me a charge, and I swore to -carry it out at the risk of my own life. ‘Guard the Mem Sahib and the -Miss Sahib,’ he said; and I will do it. Be pleased to mount, -Highness,” as she still hesitated. - -“Sir Dugald would tell you to come, Elma,” urged Penelope. “If we -could do anything, I would say go back at once; but we don’t even know -exactly where he is, and delay now will sacrifice the men’s lives as -well as ours.” - -Lady Haigh looked round desperately, but found no remedy. Reluctantly -she allowed herself to be helped into the saddle, and the ponies -started off at once. For some time the grooms had found it difficult -to hold them, for they were turning their heads uneasily towards the -west, snuffing the air, and pricking their ears as though to listen -for sounds. Now they needed no urging to fly along the strip of sward -between the forest and the _jheel_; and it was with difficulty that -their riders pulled up sufficiently to allow Murtiza Khan to get in -front when the end of the swamp was reached, and a way had to be found -through the jungle. The trooper, on his heavier horse, rode first, -crashing through the underwood which had overgrown the almost -invisible track, then came the two ladies, and the grooms panted -behind, holding on to the ponies’ tails when the forest was -sufficiently open to allow of a canter. From time to time Murtiza Khan -looked back to urge his charges to greater speed, and on all sides the -voices of the forest proclaimed the imminence of the danger. Flights -of birds hovered distressfully over the riders’ heads, unwilling to -leave their homes, but taking the eastward course at last; and through -the undergrowth could be seen the timid heads of deer, all seeking -safety in the same direction. When a more open space was reached the -scene was very curious, for antelopes, wild pig, and jungle-rats, -regardless alike of the presence of human beings and of each other, -were all rushing eastwards, driven by the same panic. One of the -grooms even shrieked to Murtiza Khan that he saw a tiger, but the -trooper dismissed the information contemptuously. The tiger would have -enough to do to save himself, and would not pause in his flight to -attack his companions in misfortune. - -By this time there was no mistaking the smoke-clouds which travelled -in advance of the fire, and brought with them the smell of burning -wood and a confusion of sounds. The roar of the advancing flames, the -crackling of branches, with an occasional crash when a large tree -fell, filled the air with noise. The dry jungle burned like tinder, so -that a solid wall of fire seemed to be sweeping over it. Underfoot -were the dry weeds and sedges and jungle-grass, then a tangled mass of -brushwood, above which reared themselves the taller trees, poplar or -mimosa or acacia, all of them parched from root to topmost twig, an -easy prey. Presently one of the grooms jerked out an inquiry whether -it would not be better to abandon the ponies and climb trees, but the -trooper flung back a contemptuous negative. - -“There were three Sahibs did that,” he said, “and when the trees were -burnt through at the root, they fell down into the fire. Stay and be -roasted if ye will, sons of swine. The Memsahibs and I will go on.” - -They went on, the roar of the flames coming nearer and nearer, the hot -breath of the fire on their necks, the crash of falling trees sounding -so close at hand that they bent forward involuntarily to escape being -crushed, the frenzied pack of wild creatures running beside and among -the horses, forgetting the lesser fear in the greater. Suddenly in -front of them loomed up a bare hillside, steep like a wall. Murtiza -Khan gave a shout. - -“To the left! to the left!” he cried. “We cannot climb up here.” - -They turned the horses, noticing now that the stream of wild animals -had already divided, part going to the left and part to the right. One -side of their faces was scorched by the hot air; a sudden leap, as it -seemed, of the flames seized a tamarisk standing in their very path. -Murtiza Khan caught the ladies’ bridles and dragged the ponies past -it, then lashed them on furiously. The fire was running along the -ground, licking up the parched grasses. He forced the ponies through -it, then pulled them sharply to the right. A barren nullah faced them, -with roughly sloping sides, bleak and dry, but it was salvation. On -those naked rocks there was no food for the flames. Murtiza Khan was -off his horse in a moment, and seizing Lady Haigh’s bridle, led her -pony up the steep slope to a bare ledge. His own horse followed him -like a dog, and one of the grooms summoned up sufficient presence of -mind, under the influence of the trooper’s angry shout, to lead up -Penelope’s pony. They spread a horsecloth on the ground, and Lady -Haigh and Penelope dropped thankfully out of their saddles. They were -trembling from head to foot, their hair and habits singed, but they -were safe. On a barren hillside, without food or water, in a desolate -region, but safe. - -For some time they could do nothing but sit helplessly where they -were, watching with dull eyes what seemed the persistent efforts of -the fire to reach them. Tongues of flame shot out of the burning mass -and licked the bare hillside, then sank back thwarted, only to make a -further attempt to pursue the fugitives and drive them from their -refuge. The fire was no longer inanimate; it was a sentient and malign -creature, determined that its prey should not escape. Its efforts -ceased at last for lack of fuel, and the castaways on the ledge were -able to think of other things. Murtiza Khan began to improvise a sling -with a strip torn from his turban, and Lady Haigh, wondering what he -could intend to aim at, saw that a little higher up the nullah one of -the forest antelopes had taken refuge on a ledge similar to their own. -She turned on the trooper angrily-- - -“What, Murtiza Khan! so lately saved and so soon anxious to destroy? -Let the creature escape, as God has allowed us.” - -“As the Presence wills,” said Murtiza Khan, with resignation, while -the antelope, catching the sound of human voices, took alarm and -bounded away. “I was but desirous of providing food, for we have here -only some broken _chapatis_. Is it the will of the Presence that we -should leave this place, and seek to find some dwelling of men in -these mountains?” - -“No,” said Lady Haigh shortly, “we wait here for the Sahib. If he is -alive he will seek us; if not, we will seek him.” - -The trooper did not venture to offer any opposition, and Lady Haigh -returned to her former attitude, gazing over the smoky waste, from -which the blackened trunk of a tall tree protruded here and there. She -had some biscuits in her plant-case, which she shared with Penelope, -and Murtiza Khan and the grooms made a meal of the fragments -discovered in the trooper’s saddle-bags, after which the three men -went to sleep, having duly asked and received permission. Lady Haigh -and Penelope scarcely spoke at all through the long hot thirsty hours -that followed. The sun beat down on them, reflected from the steep -walls of the nullah; but if they moved into the shade lower down, they -would lose the view. The fire had long burned itself out, and the -smoke-clouds lifted gradually, disclosing a gloomy expanse of black -ashes. The ground had been cleared so thoroughly that it seemed as if -it ought to be possible to see as far as the spot where the camp had -been, but the air was still too hazy, a dull grey taking the place of -the ordinary intense blue of the sky. There was no sign of life -anywhere on the plain which had been forest, but as the afternoon wore -on Penelope started suddenly. - -“Did you see, Elma?” she cried. “I am sure I saw a man’s face. He was -looking at us over those rocks,” and she pointed to the crest of the -cliff on the opposite side of the nullah. - -“It can’t be one of our men, for why should they want to hide?” said -Lady Haigh gloomily, returning to her watch. “I don’t see anything.” - -“But it must be one of the tribesmen, then, and they will attack us. -Do wake up Murtiza Khan, and let him go and look. Elma! you don’t want -to be taken prisoner, do you?” - -Thus adjured, Lady Haigh aroused the trooper, who descended into the -dry bed of the nullah and scaled the opposite height with due -precaution, but found no one, and reported that he could see nothing -but more rocks and barren hills. In returning, he ventured out on the -plain, at Lady Haigh’s order, that he might see whether it was yet -possible to traverse it. But when he turned up the black ashes with -the toe of his boot, they showed red and fiery underneath. - -“It may not be, Highness,” he said. “Neither man nor horse can cross -the forest to-day. Is it permitted to us to leave this spot?” Lady -Haigh’s gesture of dissent was sufficient answer. “Then have I the -Presence’s leave to send the grooms, one each way, along the edge of -these cliffs? It may be that the Sahib is looking for us round about -the place of the fire, and one of them may meet him.” - -To this Lady Haigh consented, and the two men started, rather -unwillingly, since both were afraid of going alone. The one who had -gone to the right returned very quickly, saying that he had seen a -man’s face in a bush, which turned out, however, to be perfectly -normal when he reconnoitred cautiously behind it, and that he was -going no farther, since the place was evidently the haunt of _afrit_. -The other was longer absent, and when he appeared he was accompanied -by another man, who was rapturously recognised by the fugitives as one -of the grass-cutters from the camp, who had gone with Sir Dugald to -Rajkot. Carefully hidden in his turban he bore a note, very dirty and -much crumpled, and evidently written on the upper margin of a piece of -newspaper which Sir Dugald had taken with him to provide wadding for -his guns. Lady Haigh read it eagerly, but as she did so her face -changed. - -“What happened when the Sahib had given you this _chit_?” she asked -imperiously of the grass-cutter. - -“The Sahib started with the _shikari_ Baha-ud-Din in the direction of -Alibad, Highness, leaving his groom behind to tell any of the servants -that might have escaped from the camp to follow him.” - -“Bid them make ready the horses,” said Lady Haigh shortly to Murtiza -Khan, then read the note again with renewed disapproval. - -“Elma, what is it?” asked Penelope anxiously. - -“It’s nothing. I am a fool,” was the laconic answer. “Only--well, I -suppose one doesn’t care to have one’s heroism taken for granted, -however much one has tried to be heroic.” - -“But Sir Dugald is safe? He must be, from what Jagro said.” - -“Yes, I’m thankful for that. But this is what he says: ‘News just -brought by a villager that a Nullahpooree army under Govind Chund has -crossed the frontier through the mountains behind Sheykhgur, intending -to surprise Ulleebad from the south-west. They were guided by some one -who knows the country well, but must have fired the _shikargah_ -accidentally in their march. I am sending this by Juggro, in the -earnest hope that he may fall in with you. I dare not delay; Ulleebad -must be warned. I join Keeling immediately; do you take refuge at -Sheykhgur. Moorteza Khaun knows where it is; he went there with the -Chief and me when Crayne was here. Tell the Sheykh of the invasion, -and ask him to give you shelter till I can come for you.’ Really -Dugald might be issuing general orders! The rest is to me--that he -feels it a mockery to write when he doesn’t know whether I am alive or -dead, and so on.” - -“But if he durst not lose any time----?” hesitated Penelope. - -“My dear, I know that perfectly well. If we were dead he could do -nothing more for us; if we were alive we could look after ourselves. -His attitude is absolutely common-sensible. But he might have asked me -whether I minded before levanting in this way. No, he couldn’t very -well have done that. It’s a fine thing to have a Roman husband, Pen.” - -“Of course it is, and you are proud of him for doing it.” - -“Well, perhaps I am; but all the same, I wish he hadn’t! There’s -consistency for you. And now to try and make Murtiza Khan understand -what is required of him.” - -The task set before the trooper was not a light one. He could have -found his way to Sheikhgarh with tolerable ease from the direction of -Alibad, but from this side of the hills he had only the vaguest idea -of its position. It must lie somewhere in the maze of rocks and -ravines to the north-east, that was all he knew, and he led his party -up the nullah, which appeared to lead roughly in the desired -direction. It turned and twisted and wound in the most perplexing -manner, however, and it seemed a godsend when the figure of a man was -discernible for an instant on the summit of the cliff. He disappeared -as soon as he caught sight of the travellers; but the stentorian -shouts of Murtiza Khan, promising safety and reward, brought him out -of his hiding-place again, to peer timidly over the rocks. He belonged -to a distant village, he said, and was seeking among the hills for -three sheep that had been lost, and he could guide the party as far as -the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s outposts, beyond which he durst not go. Even -with reward in view, he would not come down into the nullah, but took -his way along the top of the cliff, often lost to view, and guiding -the trooper by shouts. When at length he stopped short, demanding the -promised coin, evening was coming on, and still there was no sign of -human habitation to be seen, but only dry torrent-beds and frowning -rocks. It chanced that Lady Haigh had a rupee about her--a most -unusual thing in camp-life--and this was duly laid upon a rock -indicated by the guide, who would not come down to secure it while the -travellers were in sight. - -It was not without some trepidation that Lady Haigh and Penelope saw -that their path now dipped down into a deep ravine, bordered by dark -overhanging cliffs; but they would not betray their fears before the -natives, and went on boldly. As soon as they had set foot in the -ravine, however, their ears were suddenly assailed by a tumult of -sound. Shouts ran from cliff to cliff, and were taken up and returned -and multiplied by the echoes until the air was filled with noise. Even -Murtiza Khan was startled, and the grooms seized the ponies’ bridles -and tried to turn them round. The ponies kicked and plunged, the -trooper stormed, and his subordinates jabbered, while Lady Haigh tried -in vain to make herself heard above the din. In vain did Murtiza Khan -assure the grooms that what they heard was only the voices of the -Sheikh’s sentinels, posted on the rocks above them; they swore that -the place was bewitched, and that legions of evil spirits were holding -revel there. Murtiza Khan was obliged to lay about him with the flat -of his tulwar before they would let go the reins, and allow the -ladies, whose position on the steep hillside had been precarious in -the extreme, to follow him farther into the darkness. They yielded -with the worst possible grace; and when the trooper, a few steps -farther on, shouted back some question to them, only the dispirited -voice of the grass-cutter answered him. The other two had fled. A -little later, and even the grass-cutter’s heart failed him, as the -twilight became more and more gloomy, and he slipped behind a -projecting rock until the cavalcade had passed on, then ran back to -the entrance of the ravine as fast as his legs could carry him. Lady -Haigh suggested going back to find the deserters, but the trooper -scouted the idea. The light was going fast, and to spend the night in -this wilderness of rocks was not to be thought of. They must press on -into the resounding gloom. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - TAKEN BY SURPRISE. - -At last the ravine broadened a little, and almost at the moment when -this became evident, voices were heard ordering a halt. It was -difficult to tell where the voices came from, but presently the -travellers distinguished a steel cap and a scarlet turban, and the -barrel of a matchlock, among the rocks on either side of the path. -Halting at the prescribed spot, Murtiza Khan entered into conversation -with the sentries, requesting that word might be sent to the Sheikh of -the arrival of the two ladies, who asked shelter for the night. A -third man who was within hearing was summoned and despatched with the -message, and the travellers resigned themselves to wait. The answer -which was returned after a quarter of an hour had elapsed was not a -gracious one. The Memsahibs and their attendant might enter if they -pleased, but they must put up with things as they found them, and -conform to the rules of the place. As the alternative was a night in -the open, Lady Haigh accepted the offer, with considerable reluctance, -and whispered to Penelope that if they were to be blindfolded on the -way up to the fortress, they must go on talking to one another until -the bandages were removed, to guard against any attempt to separate -them. But this precaution was not called for. It was now quite dark, -and three of the Sheikh’s men took the bridles of the ponies, and -began to lead them along, without the assistance of any light -whatever. The ladies and Murtiza Khan strained their eyes, but could -not distinguish anything in their surroundings beyond varying degrees -of blackness. Nevertheless, their guides seemed to have no difficulty -in keeping to the path, although in some places, judging by the sound -of the stones which rolled from under the ponies’ feet, it led along -the verge of a tremendous precipice. After what seemed hours of this -kind of travelling, the creaking of bars and bolts just in front -announced that a door was being opened, and Murtiza Khan was warned to -stoop. The gateway passed, they were led across the courtyard, and up -to the steps of the keep, where two old women were holding flaring -torches. Between them stood a boy of twelve or so, who came forward -and salaamed with the greatest politeness. - -“The Memsahibs are more welcome than the breaking of the rains in a -thirsty season. This house is at their disposal. Let them say what -they wish and it is already done. In the absence of the lord of the -place, let them behold their slave in me.” - -“Then the Sheikh-ul-Jabal is away?” said Lady Haigh, interrupting the -flow of compliment. “And you are his son, I suppose?” - -The boy answered as though he had not heard the second question. “The -Sheikh-ul-Jabal and my brother Ashraf Ali rode away last night with -thirty horsemen, to attend a sacred feast. My sister Wazira Begum and -I are left in charge of the fortress, and I bid the Memsahibs welcome -in her name.” - -Accepting the assurance, the ladies dismounted, and the boy bustled -about with great self-importance, sending one of the old -women-servants to hasten the preparations for the guests’ comfort, -giving the ponies into the charge of the men who had led them to be -taken to the stables, and arranging that Murtiza Khan should be -allowed to sleep in the great hall, so that his mistresses might feel -he was not far off in case they needed protection. He had so much to -do, and so many orders to give, that it almost seemed as if he was -waiting as long as possible before introducing the visitors to his -sister; but at last he appeared to feel that there was no help for it, -and led the way resolutely behind the curtain, guided by the second -old woman with her torch. In the first room to which they came, a girl -was sitting on a charpoy. She had evidently put on her richest -clothes, and her fingers and wrists were loaded with jewels; but her -toilet was not complete, for she was so busy plaiting her hair that -she had no leisure even to look at the visitors. An old woman who -stood behind her was assisting in the hair-dressing, but apparently -under protest, for her young mistress was scolding her energetically. - -“O my sister, here are the Memsahibs,” said the boy, with considerable -misgiving in his tone, when he could make himself heard. - -“Oh, these are the women?” Wazira Begum vouchsafed them a casual -glance. “This is the first time that Farangi beggars have come to our -door, but Zulika will find them a quilt to sleep on, and there are -plenty of scraps.” - -“O my sister, the Memsahibs are our guests,” began the boy -distressfully, but Lady Haigh interrupted him. - -“It strikes me you are making a mistake, young lady,” she said, -marching across the room, and taking, uninvited, the place of honour -on the charpoy, at the hostess’s right hand. “Penelope, sit down -here,” indicating the next seat. “When the Sheikh-ul-Jabal returns, -will he be pleased to hear that his daughter has insulted two English -ladies who sought his hospitality? The English are his friends, and he -is theirs.” - -The girl had sprung from the charpoy as Lady Haigh sat down beside -her. “The English are pigs!” she exclaimed. “O Maadat Ali! O Zulika! -who is lady here, I or this Farangi woman? Will ye see her thrust me -from my own place?” - -“Nay, my sister, it is thou who art wrong,” returned the boy boldly. -“The women are great ladies among the English, and friends of Kīlin -Sahib, for so their servant told me. Thou art not wise.” - -“Then be thou wise for both! I will not stay here with these shameless -ones. Zulika may look to them.” - -“You are going to bed?” asked Lady Haigh placidly. “I think you are -wise, after all. And let me advise you to think things over. I don’t -want to get you into trouble, but the Sheikh must hear of it if we are -not properly treated.” - -Wazira Begum vouchsafed no reply, quitting the room in such haste that -she dropped one of her slippers by the way, and Maadat Ali, taking the -responsibility upon himself, ordered the old women to bring in supper. -While he was out of hearing for a moment Penelope turned to Lady -Haigh-- - -“You know much more about it than I do, Elma, but we are quite alone -here. Is it prudent to make an enemy of the Sheikh’s daughter? She has -us in her power.” - -“That she hasn’t, I’m thankful to say. She is the little fury that -Dugald and Major Keeling fell in with when they were here, and the -Sheikh made short work of her then. She has some grudge of her own -against the English, evidently, and she thinks this is a good time to -gratify it. Why, Pen, to be prudent, as you call it, now, would make -every native in the place think that the day of the English was over -in Khemistan, and that we knew it, and were trying to curry favour -with them in view of the future. You must be more punctilious than -ever in exacting respect--in fact, I would say bully the people, if I -thought you had it in you to do it. It’s one of the ways in which we -can help the men at Alibad.” - -Penelope laughed, not quite convinced, and the conversation was -interrupted by the reappearance of Maadat Ali, heading a procession of -women-servants bearing dishes. These were duly arranged on a small low -table, and the guests were invited to partake, the boy watching over -their comfort most assiduously. When the meal was over he delivered -them solemnly into the charge of old Zulika, adjuring her to see that -they wanted for nothing, as she dreaded the Sheikh’s anger. The old -woman, on her part, seemed genuinely anxious to efface the impression -of Wazira Begum’s rudeness, and bustled about with a will, dragging in -another charpoy, and bringing rolls of bedding. She apologised to Lady -Haigh for not coming herself to sleep at the door of the room; but her -place was always with her young mistress, and she would send Hafiza, -the servant next in seniority to herself, to wait upon the visitors. -Her excuses were graciously accepted, for Lady Haigh and Penelope were -both feeling that after the exertions and anxieties of this exciting -day, tired nature stood much in need of restoration. They tried to -talk for a moment when they had settled themselves in their unfamiliar -beds, but both fell asleep with half-finished sentences on their lips. - -They were roused in the morning by the voice of Maadat Ali, in the -passage outside their room, eagerly inquiring of old Hafiza whether -the Memsahibs were not awake yet; and as he gave them little chance of -going to sleep again, they thought it better to get up. Tired and -stiff as they were, it was a little disconcerting to remember that -riding-habits were perforce their only wear. Happily these were not -the brief and skimpy garments of to-day, but richly flowing robes, -long enough almost to reach the ground when the wearer was in the -saddle, and their straw hats and blue gauze veils were also devised -with a view to comfort rather than smartness. Clothes-brushes and -hair-brushes were alike unknown at Sheikhgarh, so that dressing was a -work of some difficulty; and it was rather a shock to find that the -frugal breakfast of _chapatis_ and hard-boiled eggs, which was brought -in when they asked for food, was regarded as a piece of incredible -luxury. After breakfast they went to the curtain which separated the -zenana from the great hall to speak to Murtiza Khan, who had already -been out with some of the Sheikh’s men to look for the deserters of -the night before, but had not been able to find any trace of them. He -brought the news that the Nalapuri army had been seen on its march -round the southern extremity of the hills, moving towards -Alibad--which showed that Sir Dugald had not been wrong in thinking -there was no time to waste. The trooper also desired permission to -reconnoitre in the direction of the town by the usual route, in case -it might prove possible to get through with the news of the ladies’ -safety, and this Lady Haigh granted before she turned back into the -zenana with Penelope. - -The women’s apartments were built round a small inner courtyard, -gloomy in the extreme from its want of outlook, but possessing a tank -of rather stagnant water which was called a fountain, and some shrubs -in pots. In the verandahs round this court the whole life of the place -was carried on, the servants--all of them women of a discreet -age--performing all their duties in the open, to the accompaniment of -much chattering. Among them moved, or rather flashed, Maadat Ali, -questioning, meddling, calling down endless explosions of wrath on his -devoted head, but undoubtedly brightening the days of the old ladies -whom he alternately coaxed and defied. When he saw the visitors he -left the servants at once, and after ordering a carpet to be spread -for the Memsahibs, seated himself cross-legged on the ground, with his -back against the coping of the tank, and began to ask questions. His -subject was Major Keeling, whose brief visit more than a year before -seemed to have left a vivid impression. Was it true that Kīlin Sahib -was invulnerable to bullets, that he could make water flow uphill or -rise from the ground at his word, that he could read all the thoughts -of a man by merely looking him in the face? These inquiries and many -others had been answered, when a peculiar look on the boy’s face made -Lady Haigh turn round. Behind her, leaning against the wall of the -house, stood Wazira Begum, twisting a spray of mimosa in her fingers, -and trying to look as if she had not been listening to what had -passed. Lady Haigh rose and saluted her politely, prompting Penelope -to do the same, and after a moment’s hesitation the girl returned the -salutation courteously, if a little sulkily. It was evident that the -meeting of the night before was to be ignored, and Maadat Ali made -room for his sister joyfully at his side. - -“I knew she would come when she heard us talking about Kīlin Sahib,” -he said. “She hates him very much.” - -“Yes, very much,” echoed Wazira Begum. - -“When he came here,” pursued the boy, “she tried very hard to make him -afraid; but he would not be afraid, and therefore she hated him even -more than before. She has part of a tassel that she cut from his -sword----” - -“From his sword? Oh, from the sword-knot,” said Lady Haigh. - -“And she keeps it wrapped up in linen, like an amulet----” - -“Thou liest!” burst forth Wazira Begum furiously. - -“But I saw it, O my sister, and thou didst tell me it was to make a -great charm against him, to destroy him.” - -“Thou wilt spoil the charm by talking of it,” pouted the girl, but the -angry crimson faded from her face. - -“Ask her why she hates him so much,” said Penelope to Lady Haigh, -preferring to rely, as she usually did, on her friend rather than try -to make herself understood in the native dialect. - -“I hate all the English,” said Wazira Begum proudly, when the question -was translated to her; “and he is a chief man among them.” - -“But what have the English done to you?” asked Lady Haigh. - -“Have they not driven us here?” with a wave of her hand round the -courtyard. “Are not my brothers and the Sheikh-ul-Jabal deprived of -their just rights?” - -“And no marriage can be made for her,” put in Maadat Ali -sympathetically. “What go-between would come to Sheikhgarh to seek a -bride?” - -“You should persuade your father to settle in Alibad,” said Lady -Haigh. - -“I am not a sweeper girl, to wed with the scum of towns!” cried Wazira -Begum. - -“Isn’t your sister inclined to be a little difficult to please?” asked -Lady Haigh of Maadat Ali. “You are Khojas, of course, but we have -plenty of Khojas, and even Syads,[1] living in the plains.” - -“If that were all!” cried the girl contemptuously. “But for a princess -of Nalapur, as I am----” - -“O my sister!” gasped Maadat Ali. - -“Nay, I have said it, and these unbelievers shall be convinced.” She -sprang up and stood before the visitors, drawing herself to her full -height. “My father was the Amir Nasr Ali Khan, not the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and my brother Ashraf Ali should now be sitting in -his father’s place. But the English took the side of the murderer and -usurper, and we are banished to this desert.” - -“You three are Nasr Ali’s children!” cried Lady Haigh. Then, regret -succeeding astonishment, “Why in the world didn’t your father--the -Sheikh, I mean--let Major Keeling know this before? He would have had -you back at Nalapur long ago.” - -“These are words!” said Wazira Begum. “My uncle judges the English by -their deeds. His own wife and sons and our mother were among the dead -in the Killa at Nalapur, and he would not have us murdered also.” - -“But, dear me! he ought to know Major Keeling by this time,” said Lady -Haigh impatiently. “He had no share in the massacre, and has been most -anxious to right the injustice ever since it happened. But he thought -there was no heir of Nasr Ali left, so he could do nothing.” She -stopped, for a curious smile was playing about Wazira Begum’s mouth. - -“My uncle has found a way of doing something,” she said. “Even now he -has taken my brother Ashraf Ali, who was fourteen years old six weeks -ago, to show him to the faithful followers of our father’s house, that -they may raise an insurrection in his favour in Nalapur.” - -“Then your uncle has acted very unwisely--to say no more--in not -confiding in Major Keeling,” was the warm response. “I suppose he -means to reach the capital while the Amir Wilayat Ali is with his army -on the frontier? And so he has weakened his garrison, and withdrawn -his distant patrols, and allowed Gobind Chand’s army to get past him -and threaten Alibad. There must be spies all round you, for it’s clear -his movements have been watched--I suppose the men we saw in the -mountains were there to keep an eye on him--and he will never be -allowed to reach Nalapur. And if he was, it wouldn’t be much good to -proclaim your brother Amir if the enemy cut him off both from this -place and from Alibad.” - -“I cannot tell,” said Wazira Begum sullenly. “My uncle is a wise man, -and will do according to his wisdom. As to Kīlin Sahib and the -English, I will trust them when I see a reason for it,” and she -marched away with great dignity. - -Maadat Ali remained, obviously ill at ease on account of his sister’s -revelation, but relieved that his true dignity need no longer be -concealed; and from him Lady Haigh learned that the wife of the Amir -Nasr Ali, suspecting treachery on the part of her brother-in-law, had -intrusted her three children to the two nurses, Zulika and Hafiza, the -night before the storming of the city. In the disguise of peasants the -women had contrived to escape from the palace, and on the arrival of -the English had been suffered to depart. They made their way to the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, who had succeeded in crossing the frontier into -safety, and he had conceived the idea of bringing up the children as -his own, knowing that, much as he himself was hated by Wilayat Ali and -his Vizier, nothing could protect the heirs of Nasr Ali if they were -known to be living. - -The day passed slowly to Lady Haigh and Penelope. Maadat Ali was their -constant companion, but his never-ceasing flow of questions became -rather wearisome after a time. Wazira Begum seemed unable to make up -her mind how to treat the visitors. She would come and engage in -friendly conversation, then suddenly turn sullen or flare up at some -imagined slight, and depart in dudgeon. Lady Haigh decided that she -was ill at ease about her uncle and her elder brother, whose plans had -been so signally deranged by Gobind Chand’s move, and that she would -like to discuss future possibilities, but was too proud to do so. -Murtiza Khan came back from his reconnaissance, and announced that the -Nalapuri army had emerged from the hills in the early morning and -threatened Alibad, but had been driven back in confusion by a small -force with two field-pieces posted on the canal embankment. In spite -of their numbers, Gobind Chand’s men refused to remain in the plain, -and had retreated into the hills. They were now occupying the broken -country extending from the frontier to the track on the south by which -they had made their circuitous march, and were in force between -Sheikhgarh and Alibad; but the trooper thought it might be possible -for him to get through to the town, and relieve Sir Dugald’s mind, by -using by-paths only known to the men of the Mountains. Lady Haigh was -very much averse from the idea, but Murtiza Khan was so anxious to be -allowed to try that she consented to his making the attempt after -dark, guided by one of the brotherhood. - -The evening seemed very long in coming, not only to the eager trooper, -but to the two ladies, who could scarcely keep their eyes open after -the fatigues of the day before. They sat side by side on a charpoy in -the room in which Wazira Begum had first received them, with Maadat -Ali cross-legged on a carpet opposite, pouring forth a flood of -questions which still seemed inexhaustible. A brazier of glowing -charcoal supplied warmth and a dim religious light, and Wazira Begum -wandered restlessly in and out. The day had been hot, for the sun beat -down with great force on the unshaded walls and courtyards of -Sheikhgarh; but the evening was cold and even frosty. Suddenly through -the chill air came the sound of a horn, and Maadat Ali leaped up as if -he had been shot. - -“Some one comes!” he cried. “I will bring thee news, O my sister.” - -He rushed out and under the curtain, and was lost to sight. The -women-servants came crowding into the passage, and listened to the -confused sounds which reached them from the gateway. Presently Maadat -Ali came rushing back. - -“O my sister,” he gasped forth, “it is our uncle, sorely wounded. He -and his troop were attacked by the accursed one, the usurper.” - -“And our brother--Ashraf Ali?” shrieked Wazira Begum. - -“They said nothing of him, but they are bringing the Sheikh in a -litter, and those that have returned with him are relieving the men on -guard, that they may gather in the great hall and receive his -commands. I must go back.” - -“Won’t you send the servants to light the hall with torches?” asked -Lady Haigh of Wazira Begum, as the boy ran away; but she shook her -head. - -“Nay, no woman must be present when the Sheikh gives his commands to -the brotherhood. They will bring their own torches. We should not even -be here; but I cannot go back into the zenana without knowing what has -befallen my brother. It is forbidden, but I cannot.” - -The women were all gathered at the curtain now, peering through holes -which long experience had shown them where to find, and Lady Haigh -laid an encouraging hand on Wazira Begum’s shoulder. To her surprise, -it was not shaken off. The girl was trembling with anxiety, and her -breath came in sharp gasps. Outside the curtain Murtiza Khan stood -rigid, partially concealed by the recess in which it hung. With -admirable good-breeding, he feigned to be absolutely unconscious of -the crowd of women who were pressing and whispering so close to him. - -At last the sound of feet was heard, and the gleam of white and -scarlet was revealed by the light of a smoky torch at the doorway of -the hall. Eight men in the dress of the brotherhood carried in a rude -litter, and were followed by others, all bearing marks of fighting. -Behind them came the men who had been guarding the walls, and with -them Maadat Ali; but a sob broke from Wazira Begum as she realised -that her elder brother was not there. The litter, still covered with -the mantles of the men who had carried it, was placed in the middle of -the hall, and the members of the brotherhood proceeded to arrange -themselves in their proper ranks; but there was some confusion, as if -all did not know their places. Lady Haigh’s hand gripped Penelope’s, -and she directed her attention to the back of the hall. Behind the men -in scarlet and white crept a silent crowd of figures in ordinary -native dress, and these were dividing in the semi-darkness so as to -line both sides of the hall. Almost at the same moment two cries broke -the stillness. Wazira Begum sprang up from her crouching position, and -shrieked with all her strength, “Treachery! treachery! sons of the -Mountains!” and Maadat Ali, who had contrived to make his way -unobserved to the side of the litter and lift the covering, dropped it -in amazement, and cried shrilly, “It is not the Sheikh-ul-Jabal at -all!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES. - -In a moment all was confusion. Behind the curtain, Zulika and Hafiza -threw themselves upon Wazira Begum, and carried her off by main force, -regardless of her struggles, locking her into a small room where -jewels and best clothes were kept. They had seen the man in the litter -raise himself and deal Maadat Ali a blow that stretched him senseless -on the floor, and their sudden action had only just prevented the girl -from rushing unveiled into the turmoil of armed men. The hall was -ringing with battle-cries: “Jabal! Jabal!” from the brotherhood, -“Dīn! Dīn!” from the men who had carried the litter and those who -had dogged their steps. Swords were flashing; but such was the -confusion that the garrison of Sheikhgarh did not know who was friend -or who foe. The dark-clothed strangers, who had almost succeeded in -surrounding them, were obviously enemies; but mingled among themselves -were the litter-bearers in their own distinctive dress, headed by the -man who had been carried in the litter, and who had now sprung to his -feet and unsheathed a sword. Beset and outnumbered, the men of the -Mountains turned furiously upon the nearest foe each could -distinguish, and a wild turmoil raged, which swayed for a moment -towards the entrance of the hall, leaving clear the remains of the -litter and the form of Maadat Ali lying beside it. Lady Haigh put a -hand round the curtain and gripped the arm of Murtiza Khan, who still -stood motionless in his niche. These bewildering changes were nothing -to him; his duty began and ended with the defence of his Memsahibs. - -“Fetch in the boy, Murtiza Khan!” said Lady Haigh sharply. The trooper -hesitated for a moment, then assured himself that the archway was not -threatened, and dashed across the hall, returning with the motionless -body of the boy. - -“Bring him inside--quick!” said Lady Haigh authoritatively, moving the -curtain aside; and with horrible reluctance Murtiza Khan obeyed, to -the accompaniment of a chorus of shrieks from the old women within, -who improvised hastily makeshifts for veils. He looked anxiously round -for a bed on which to lay the boy, preparatory to an immediate -retreat. - -“Hold him! You are not to go outside again,” cried Lady Haigh, -stamping her foot. “Unlock that door!” she commanded the two old -women, pointing to the room where Wazira Begum could be heard beating -the woodwork with her fists and demanding furiously to be let out. -Hafiza seemed inclined to remonstrate, but Zulika obeyed promptly, and -the girl dashed out, with dishevelled hair and bleeding knuckles, -bestowing a furious blow on the old nurse as she passed, and nearly -knocking her down. Catching sight of her brother, she tore him from -the trooper’s arms and pressed him to her breast, crouching in a -corner and moaning over him. Lady Haigh laid a firm hand on her -shoulder. - -“Listen to me, Wazira Begum. Is there any door or gate at the back by -which you can let a messenger out?” - -“Take thy hand away!” shrieked the girl. “How dost thou dare touch me? -It is thou who hast brought all this evil upon us. O my brother, my -little brother, do I behold thee dead in my arms?” - -“Answer me,” said Lady Haigh, giving her a slight shake. “You can do -your brother no good by crying over him.” - -“There is a secret door, but the Sheikh alone can enter or depart by -it,” was the unwilling reply. “Now leave me to bewail my dead.” - -“Then we must let Murtiza Khan down over the wall. Wazira Begum, you -must come and show us the best place, and give orders to your women. -Your brother is not dead. I saw him move just now.” - -“I will not leave him, O accursed Farangi! Why should I desire to save -the life of thy servant, who has profaned the very zenana?” - -“To save your own life and your brother’s, to say nothing of ours. -Murtiza Khan must bear the news of this treachery to Alibad, and bring -help, if it can be managed. Come! leave the boy with Hafiza.” - -Sullenly and reluctantly Wazira Begum obeyed, and wrapping herself in -the veil which Zulika brought her, led the way through the passage. -Lady Haigh paused to speak to the old woman-- - -“Stay at the curtain, and parley with any who may desire to enter. -Keep them back at any cost until we return.” - -Hurrying after the rest she caught up Murtiza Khan, who was following -the women in intense misery, with his eyes on the ground. - -“Do you understand, Murtiza Khan? You are to get through to Alibad at -any cost, and tell Keeling Sahib that the enemy have surprised -Sheikhgarh.” - -“How is this?” asked Murtiza Khan. “Does not the Presence know that I -was charged to protect her and the Miss Sahib, and how dare I leave -them defenceless to the enemy?” - -“What could one man do? You could only fight till you were killed.” - -“Nay, I could slay both the Presences before the enemy broke in.” - -“Thanks, we can do that for ourselves if necessary. There are knives -here, at any rate, whatever there may not be. But if the Sahibs are -not warned, they will come to Sheikhgarh thinking it is in friendly -hands, and will be ambushed in the mountains. That must be prevented.” - -“It is the will of the Presence,” said Murtiza Khan, with a -resignation as sulky in its way as Wazira Begum’s. The girl had led -the way up to the roofs of the buildings surrounding the zenana -courtyard, which formed a terrace from which the defence of the place -could be carried on. She sprang up on the parapet, and looked over the -wall. - -“Here is the place,” she said. “My brother Ashraf Ali once dropped a -jewel from his turban over the wall, and we let him down to recover -it. Bring ropes, O women.” - -The servants ran wildly in all directions, and produced a -heterogeneous collection of cords, which were knotted together and -pieced out with strips torn from sheets. The trooper tested them -carefully, and expressed himself as satisfied, only entreating that -Lady Haigh would herself hold the cord and give the orders. Then he -let himself down over the parapet, hung for a moment to the edge by -his fingers, and loosed his hold. Lady Haigh restrained the eagerness -of the women who held the rope, insisting that they should pay it out -slowly and steadily; and after what seemed an age, the trooper’s voice -was heard, telling them to slacken it a little, that he might unfasten -it. Then the rope came up again free, and not daring to wait on the -wall, Lady Haigh and Wazira Begum left the servants to untie and hide -the separate parts, and fled back into the house. Wazira Begum was -madly anxious about her brother, and Lady Haigh now remembered that -Penelope had not accompanied them to the wall. They both caught sight -of her at the same moment, and Wazira Begum sprang forward with a cry -of rage, for Penelope was kneeling by the charpoy on which Maadat Ali -lay, and binding up his head. The fierce jealousy which made the -native girl rush to drive her away did not even occur to her, and she -looked up at her with a smile. - -“He is only stunned, and he is beginning to come round. Take my place, -so that he may see you when he opens his eyes, but don’t startle him. -I’m sure he ought to be kept very quiet.” - -Her anger disarmed by Penelope’s unsuspiciousness, Wazira Begum obeyed -meekly, and kneeling down by the charpoy, murmured endearing epithets -as she pressed her lips passionately to her brother’s hands. But Lady -Haigh had moved to the curtain, beyond which Zulika had just been -summoned by an imperious voice which demanded that some one from the -zenana should come forth and speak. The contest in the hall had ended -in the triumph of the invaders. The bodies of the dead and dying which -cumbered the floor showed that the men of the Mountains had fought -hard for their stronghold; but they were much outnumbered, and utterly -taken by surprise. Their assailants were evidently kept well in hand -by their leader, the man who had been carried in the litter, for -instead of dispersing through the fortress in search of loot, they -were methodically removing the dead and caring for their own wounded. -The wounded among the defenders were promptly despatched. It was the -leader who now stood before the curtain, and before whom Zulika -grovelled abjectly, her forehead on the ground. - -“Who is within?” asked the leader. - -“My lord’s servants the daughter and the young son of my master, the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and the women of the household.” - -“No one else? What of the two Farangi ladies who took shelter here -last night, and their servant?” - -“Truly the wisdom of my lord is as that of Solomon the son of David! -The Farangi ladies are indeed within, the guests of my master’s -house.” - -“And their servant--is he also within?” - -“Nay, my lord! A man behind the curtain! Truly the fellow was in this -hall before the entrance of my lord, but seeing that there was -fighting on foot, doubtless he stole away to hide himself, or it may -be he is even among the slain,” lied Zulika glibly. - -“I will have search made and a watch kept, and if I find thou hast -deceived me----” he laid his sheathed sword lightly across Zulika’s -neck, so that she cowered nearer to the floor. “Thou and the children -of the impostor may remain here for the present, until the will of his -Highness be known; only see to it that ye make no attempt to escape or -to send warning to those who are away. But the Farangi women bid to be -ready to start on a journey an hour before dawn, for they must go -elsewhere.” - -“My lord would not slay the women?” ventured the trembling Zulika, -with unexpected courage. - -“What is that to thee? Enough that they must be kept in safety until -it may be seen of what use they are.” - -“My lord’s handmaid will carry his commands,” responded Zulika, and -returned with her alarming message behind the curtain, where the other -servants filled the air with wailing on hearing it. Lady Haigh bade -them peremptorily to be still, and turned to Wazira Begum, who was -still kneeling beside her brother, assiduously keeping the cloths on -his forehead wet, in the way Penelope had shown her. - -“Let us talk this over as friends,” she said, “for we are in much the -same position. We are to be kept as hostages in order to extract -concessions from Major Keeling, and you and your brother, Wazira -Begum, as a means of bringing pressure upon the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. At -least that shows that he has not been killed or defeated, but I -suppose he might return here and be lured into an ambush at any -moment. Now think; Murtiza Khan cannot possibly reach Alibad before -daylight to-morrow, even if he is not seen and wounded or captured. -Major Keeling would never attack a place like this by daylight, so -that even if he sent a force to our help at once, we could not be -relieved until to-morrow night. Is there any chance of barricading -ourselves in the zenana, and holding out for all those hours?” - -“Nay,” said Wazira Begum wearily; “we might block up the door with -charpoys, and ye might refuse to go out; but they would only need to -set fire to the barricade, and then they would break in and slay us -all. Do as thou wilt. Who am I to give commands, when thou art -present? It shall be done as thou sayest, and my brother and I, and -these women, can but die in the hope of saving thee and thy sister.” - -“Nonsense!” said Lady Haigh. “If there’s no chance of defending -ourselves successfully, of course we won’t attempt it. You know that -perfectly well, Wazira Begum, or you wouldn’t have put your lives into -my hands in that despairingly confiding way.” - -The girl looked slightly ashamed. “Thou art better to me than I -deserve, better than I thought thee,” she said. “Were it not for my -brother, I would refuse to give you up; but how can I bring death upon -him? I will send my handmaid Hafiza with you, to wait upon you and to -be your interpreter with the men sent to guard you, for ye are great -ladies, and must not speak with them face to face. Also ye shall have -bedding, and such other things as this place can supply and ye may -desire. And forgive me that I can do no more, for truly woe is come -upon this house, and the shadow of death.” - -She broke into loud wailing again, in which the other women followed -her, and Lady Haigh grew angry. - -“Penelope, lie down here and try and get some rest. Wazira Begum, as -you are good enough to lend us bedding, please let Hafiza get it out -and have it ready to strap on the horses. And tell me, had we better -wear veils like yours instead of our hats?” - -“Nay, ye would be known everywhere as Farangis by your tight garments, -and your manner of sitting on one side of your horses,” said Wazira -Begum. “But this is what ye must do.” She unfastened the gauze veil -from Lady Haigh’s hat and doubled it. “Now no man can see clearly what -manner of woman is beneath.” - -This settled, Lady Haigh sat down on the floor, and leaning against -the wall, prepared to get a few hours’ uncomfortable and more or less -broken sleep, while Hafiza was assisted in her preparations by the -other women, who were all much relieved that they had not been chosen -to attend the visitors, and were anxious to administer the kind of -comfort which is easier to give than to receive. The disturbed night -seemed extraordinarily long, but at last the summons came from behind -the curtain. Wazira Begum bade farewell to her guests with something -of compunction, and pressed upon them a string of pearls, which might -serve as currency in case of need. The old women carried out the -bundles of bedding, which were tied on a horse in such a way that -Hafiza could perch herself on the summit of the load. Then Lady Haigh -and Penelope, disguised in their double veils, walked down the hall, -and found, to their delight, their own ponies awaiting them. Lady -Haigh looked over the harness critically before mounting from the -steps, and ordered one or two straps to be tightened--orders which -were obeyed, apparently with some amusement, by the men who stood by. -The leader of the enemy, who stood on the steps watching the start, -gave his final instructions to a man named Nizam-ul-Mulk, who was, it -seemed, to escort the ladies with ten men under him, and the gate was -opened. Lady Haigh, who was looking about for any chance of escape, -saw that every precaution was to be taken for the safe-keeping of the -prisoners. On the narrow mountain paths, where it was necessary to -ride in single file, there was always one of the guards between -herself and Penelope, and when the valley widened, the whole of the -escort closed up at once. Several small encampments were passed, from -which startled Nalapuris looked out as they heard the horses’ feet to -ask if Sinjāj Kīlin was coming; and it was clear that though the -enemy might be said to be occupying the hills, there would be no great -difficulty in dislodging them. Cowardly though they might be, however, -they had the upper hand at present, and Lady Haigh and Penelope felt -this bitterly when their party debouched from the hills about dawn, -and struck off across the desert towards the north-east, leaving the -great mass of the Alibad fort, touched with the sunrise, well to the -south. - -“If they only knew!” sighed Lady Haigh. “Just across there, and we -here! How they would ride if they knew!” - -“What is going to happen to us?” asked Penelope. They were riding side -by side now, in the midst of their guards. - -“Well, the worst that could happen would be that we might be carried -right up into Central Asia, which all but happened to the captives in -the Ethiopian disaster,” said Lady Haigh, ignoring decisively -possibilities even darker, “and I suppose the best that could happen -would be that Major Keeling should make terms for us almost at once.” - -“But if he had to make concessions, as you said? Ought we to want him -to do it?” - -“Of course we oughtn’t to, and I don’t--but yet I do. Perhaps he -won’t. You see I know already how high-minded my husband can be where -I am concerned, but I don’t know what Major Keeling would be willing -to do for you.” - -“I know. He would refuse, even if it tore his heart out.” - -Lady Haigh looked at her curiously. “You seem to know him pretty -well,” she said. “Well, it’s something to feel that our poor little -fates won’t be permitted to weigh against the safety of the frontier. -But what nonsense we are talking!” as Penelope shuddered. “My dear, -don’t we know that those two men would invade Central Asia on their -own account if we were taken there, and bring us back in triumph? -Don’t let us pretend they’re Romans. They’re good Englishmen, and -would no more leave us to perish than turn Mohammedan!” - -This robust faith, if a little unfortunate in the mode of its -expression, was very cheering, and Penelope withdrew her eyes from the -fast diminishing fort, and set her face sternly forward. But if there -was no sign of a force riding out from Alibad to the rescue, there was -a cloud of dust in front which showed that some one was approaching, -and the escort were visibly nervous. Seizing the bridles of the -ladies’ ponies they urged them aside behind a sandhill, and there -waited, gathered in a close group. It was a large company that was -coming, and the dust it made was sufficient to have prevented its -noticing the smaller party, so that it passed the sandhill without -turning aside. A sudden lull in the wind revealed the white mantles -and scarlet turbans of the men who composed it when they had gone some -distance. - -“The Sheikh and his followers!” gasped Penelope. “They will go back to -Sheikhgarh and be captured.” - -“Not if Murtiza Khan got through,” said Lady Haigh, trying to hide the -anxiety in her tone, “for Major Keeling would be certain to send some -one to intercept the Sheikh before he could reach the hills. No,” she -added acidly, in response to the gesture of Nizam-ul-Mulk, who had -tapped a pistol in his girdle significantly as he saw her gazing after -the riders, “we are not quite idiots, thank you. It wouldn’t be much -good to signal to the Sheikh, who doesn’t know anything about us, and -would never think of going out of his way on the chance of helping -some one in distress.” - -“But he might have told them at Alibad, and they would have known -where we were,” suggested Penelope. - -“And have come out to find us shot, which wouldn’t be much good,” said -Lady Haigh. - -They rode on again after this brief halt, taking the direction of Fort -Shah Nawaz, but leaving it out of sight on the right hand. The dark -rocks which marked the mouth of the Akrab Pass were visible in the -distance on the left, and Lady Haigh expected that Nizam-ul-Mulk would -lead the way thither. But to her surprise, they still rode straight -on, leaving the pass on one side. - -“Where are you taking us?” she could not refrain from asking him at -last. - -“To Kubbet-ul-Haj. There is safe-keeping in Ethiopia for any Farangi -prisoner,” answered the man with an insolent laugh, and Lady Haigh -grew white under her veil. - -“Ethiopia! That means Central Asia, then!” she said. “Never mind, Pen. -They’ll catch us up before we get there. We can’t possibly get farther -than the Ethiopian frontier to-night, if as far.” - -Although she spoke rather to encourage Penelope than because she -believed what she said, Lady Haigh proved to be right. The discipline -of the guards seemed to disappear as they were farther removed from -their leader at Sheikhgarh; and at noon, thinking that all danger was -past, they insisted on a rest of two or three hours, despite the -remonstrances of Nizam-ul-Mulk. Hence, when evening came on, the -Ethiopian frontier was still an hour’s ride away, and they positively -refused to attempt to reach it that night, demanding that a camp -should be formed on a low hill covered with brushwood--an excellent -position both for concealment and for discerning the approach of an -enemy. Nizam-ul-Mulk was forced to yield. The horses were picketed in -a hollow on the Ethiopian side of the hill, a rude tent was pitched -for the ladies, and a due portion of the rough food of the escort sent -them through Hafiza. When the comfortless meal was over, they were -thankful to lie down, without undressing, on the _resais_ with which -Wazira Begum had supplied them; and Hafiza, at any rate, was soon -audibly, as well as visibly, asleep. But presently Penelope sat up and -said softly, “Elma, are you awake?” - -“Ye-es,” responded Lady Haigh sleepily. “What’s the matter?” - -“Oh, do let us talk a little. I can’t sleep. Elma, if they should -separate us--if they are only pretending to go to sleep----” - -“Nonsense! after such a day of riding they are as tired as I am, and -that’s saying a good deal. Don’t conjure up horrors.” - -“But if they took us to different places! Oh, Elma, if I was alone -among these people I should die!” - -“Oh no, you wouldn’t. You’d get on much better than you think.” - -“I couldn’t do anything. You can say what you like to these people and -they obey you. No one would obey me.” - -“Well, you conquered Wazira Begum, at any rate. I only made her hate -me, though she did what I told her.” - -“But as long as you’re there, I feel safe--as if you were a man.” - -“What a testimony! But, Pen, you’re horribly old-fashioned. You -shouldn’t be such a honeysuckle kind of girl--always leaning on some -one and clinging to them--and yet you are so obstinate in some ways. I -suppose it’s no good telling you to stand up for yourself, though. You -seem born to cling. Colin was your prop for a long time, and you let -him drag you out to India to marry Ferrers, whom you didn’t want, and -he very nearly succeeded. I suppose I’m the support just at present, -until Major Keeling comes to the front. He will be a good stout prop, -at any rate. I couldn’t stand his domineering ways, but I suppose you -like them.” - -“Oh yes,” said Penelope thankfully. “You don’t know him. Elma----” - -“I know you,” interjected her friend. - -“Elma, doesn’t it seem extraordinary that it is only a few weeks since -I really wanted to die? It felt as if it was the only way of settling -things--as if I ought not to marry him, and yet couldn’t bear not -to--and now the only thing I care for is to see him again. I should be -perfectly happy----” - -“It isn’t extraordinary at all--merely that you’ve come to your -senses. My dear, I was in love with Dugald once, you know----” - -“But if we should never see them again, either of them! Oh, Elma, if -they should never find us! What do you think----?” - -“I think you’ll have a touch of fever if you don’t try to go to sleep. -Listen to Hafiza. She is going among strangers, just like you and me, -but she doesn’t sit up and talk. Say your prayers, and lie down.” - -“She can sleep because she has so little to lose, whatever happens. So -long as she was kindly treated, I suppose she could make herself happy -anywhere.” - -“Well, I have about as much to lose as you have,” with a terrific -yawn, “and I should very much like to go to sleep.” - -“I oughtn’t to be so selfish. But listen, Elma. We’ll take turns to -sleep, and then they can’t separate us. I will watch first.” - -“Oh, very well. Wake me when you feel drowsy,” and Lady Haigh turned -over on her hard couch, and composed herself to sleep. When Penelope -roused her, however, it was not to take her turn at watching. She was -kneeling beside her, with her lips very close to her ear. - -“Elma, wake up! Don’t say anything, but listen. Don’t you hear noises? -I’m sure something is going to happen.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - RAHMAT-ULLAH. - -Lady Haigh sat up, and listened attentively. “It may be only the -sentries moving about,” she whispered at last. - -“No, there are none. I peeped out to see. They are sleeping all round -the tent, so that we could not pass, but they have no one on the -watch. There it is again! Listen!” - -But this time there was no difficulty in distinguishing the sounds, -for a tremendous voice, so close at hand that Lady Haigh stopped her -ears involuntarily, shouted, “At them, boys! Cold steel! Don’t let one -of them escape!” and immediately the wildest tumult arose outside the -tent. It aroused even Hafiza, who sat up and with great presence of -mind opened her mouth to scream, but was forestalled by Lady Haigh, -who flew at her like a wild cat, and gagged her with a corner of the -_resai_. - -“Do you want us all to be killed?” she demanded fiercely. “Our only -chance is that they may not remember us.” - -“Elma, are you there?” said a voice outside the tent at the back, and -Lady Haigh released Hafiza and turned in the direction of the sound. - -“Is it you, Dugald?” she cried joyfully, trying to tear up the edge of -the tent-cloth from the ground, but it was well pegged down. - -“Stand aside!” said the voice, and there was a rending sound as a -sword cut a long slit in the cloth, revealing Sir Dugald dimly against -the starry sky. “Out with you!” he said, “and stoop till I tell you to -stand up.” - -Determined to obey to the very letter, Lady Haigh and Penelope crawled -out through the slit on their hands and knees, followed by Hafiza, who -was so anxious not to be left behind that she kept a firm hold on -Penelope’s riding-habit. Sir Dugald led the way through the brushwood, -away from the clash of swords and the wild confusion of shouts and -yells in front of the tent, and when they had passed the brow of the -hill, he gave them leave to stand up. - -“We are to make for the horses,” he said. “I only hope they won’t have -run away, or we shall find ourselves in a hole. But Miani has the -sense of a dozen, and wouldn’t go without his master.” - -They ran and stumbled down the hill, Sir Dugald assisting any one of -the three who happened to be nearest, and a little way back on the -road they had come, found Miani and four other horses waiting in a -hollow, secured to a lance driven into the ground. - -“But where are the rest?” cried Lady Haigh. “The men can’t have walked -from Alibad here.” - -“There’s a horse for each man,” was the grim reply. “Keeling and I, -his two orderlies, and Murtiza Khan--there’s our rescue party.” - -“It’s perfect madness!” she cried piteously, collapsing on a heap of -stones. “There was no need to risk your lives in this way.” - -“All that could be spared. This is a little jaunt undertaken when we -are supposed to be asleep. No one knows about it.” - -“It’s just the sort of mad thing Major Keeling would do, but you--oh, -Dugald! if anything happens to you I shall never forgive myself,” and -Lady Haigh sat on her stone-heap and wept ignominiously. - -“Good heavens, Elma! you’ll call together all the enemies in the -neighbourhood if you make that noise. I’m all right at present. Why -don’t you weep over the Chief? He’s in danger, if you like.” - -“Yes, and why aren’t you with him?” she demanded, with what might have -appeared a certain measure of inconsistency. - -“Orders,” he replied tersely. “I have to see you home. Hope we shall -be able to collar your ponies. Where did you manage to pick up an -ayah? Not one of your captors’ people, is she?” - -“No, she must go back with us. She belongs to Sheikhgarh. Oh, -Dugald----” - -“Hush! I believe I hear the Chief coming. Here, Major! we’ve got them -all right.” - -“Good!” returned Major Keeling, hurling himself into the group after a -run down the hillside. “How are you, Lady Haigh? Pretty fit, Miss -Ross? Got a good ride before us still. We must have an outpost here -some day--splendid place for stopping the smuggling of arms into -Ethiopia.” - -“And call it after you,” suggested Lady Haigh, now quite herself -again. “What shall we say--Kīlinabad? or Kīlingarh? or Kīlinkôt?” - -“Has this hill any name, Kasim?” asked Major Keeling, turning abruptly -to one of the orderlies who had come up. - -“It is called Rahmat-Ullah, sahib, from one who was saved from death -by a pool of water that he found here.” - -“Then there is its name still. Rahmat-Ullah, the Compassion of -God--what could be more appropriate? But now to think of present -needs. Surviving enemy has escaped with the horses, unfortunately. We -didn’t venture to fire after him for fear of rousing the -neighbourhood, so we must ride double.” As he spoke, he was -unstrapping and rearranging the greatcoat which was rolled in front of -Miani’s saddle. “Haigh, take your wife.” He unfastened the black’s -bridle from the lance, and was in the saddle in a moment. “Miss Ross, -give me your hands. Put your foot on mine. Now, jump!” and as Penelope -obeyed, she found herself seated before him on the horse, the -greatcoat serving as a cushion. “Don’t be afraid of falling. I shall -hold you,” he said. “Besides, Miani is too much of a gentleman to try -any tricks with a lady on his back. You all right, Lady Haigh? Ismail -Bakhsh, you are the lightest weight; pick up the old woman, and fall -in behind. Murtiza Khan may lead; he has deserved well for this three -days’ work. Kasim-ud-Daulat, bring up the rear, and keep your ears -open for any sounds of pursuit. Now, forward!” - -They were in motion at once, Miani making no objection to his double -burden. Penelope smiled to herself, realising the strangeness of her -position, and also Major Keeling’s anxiety that she should not realise -it. His left arm was round her, the sword which must have dripped with -blood only a few minutes ago hung almost within reach of her hand; but -he was careful not to say a word that could make her feel that there -was anything odd in the situation. - -“He is determined to behave as if he was a stranger,” she said to -herself. “No, not quite. A stranger would have asked me if I was quite -comfortable before starting. But why doesn’t he let me ride behind -him, so as to leave his arms free? I know! it is from behind that he -expects to be attacked. Oh, I hope, I hope, if there is an attack, it -will be in front. Then the bullets must reach me first, and he might -escape.” - -As if in answer to her thought, Major Keeling’s deep voice remarked -casually at this moment, “If we are attacked in front, Miss Ross, I -shall drop you on the ground. It sounds rude, but you will be safer -there than in the way of bullets. Keep out of the way of the horses as -best you can, and we will pick you up again when we have driven the -rascals off.” - -“Ye-es,” said Penelope faintly, with the feeling very strong upon her -that there were some seasons at which women had no business to exist. -Again, as if to comfort her, Major Keeling laughed happily. - -“Never felt so jolly in my life!” he cried. “This is the sort of -adventure that’s worth five years of office and drill.” - -The assurance was so cheering, though entirely impersonal, that -Penelope accepted the comfort perforce. They rode on steadily, and the -regular beat of the horses’ hoofs was pleasant in its monotony. A -continuous low murmur from Lady Haigh, punctuated by an occasional -word or two from Sir Dugald, showed that she, at any rate, had no -doubt of her right to exist and to demand a welcome. Penelope’s -thoughts became somewhat confused. Scenes and images from the exciting -panorama of the last three days danced before her eyes. She knew that -they were unreal, but could not remember where she actually was. -Suddenly they ceased, and she knew nothing more until a deep voice -broke upon her slumbers-- - -“You would make a good cavalryman, Miss Ross. You can sleep in the -saddle!” - -Bewildered, she gazed round her. The silvery light of the false dawn -was spreading itself over the sky, and the familiar front of the -Haighs’ house at Alibad looked weird and cold. They were actually -inside the compound, riding up to the door, and startled servants were -running out from their quarters to receive them. Lady Haigh dismounted -with much agility, and came running to assist Penelope, who was still -too much confused to allow herself to drop to the ground, but Major -Keeling and Sir Dugald both remained in the saddle. - -“Don’t expect me till you see me,” said Sir Dugald to his wife. “I’ll -send you a message when I can.” - -“And he shall have an hour’s leave when it can be managed,” said Major -Keeling, turning his horse’s head. Then he looked back at the two -ladies standing forlorn on the steps. “Now my advice to you is, go to -bed and get a thorough rest. You needn’t be afraid. Tarleton and the -Fencibles have the town in charge, though we are out on the plains.” - -“Oh, Elma, and we never thanked them!” cried Penelope, horror-struck, -as the two officers and their escort disappeared. - -“_Thanked_ them! My dear Penelope, what good would thanks be? If we -thanked those two men on our bended knees for ever, it wouldn’t come -anywhere near proper gratitude for what they have done for us -to-night. But come indoors, and let us hunt up some bedding. It’s all -very well to advise us to go to bed; but every single thing we took -into camp is burnt, so we must do the best we can.” - -“But the servants?” cried Penelope. - -“Oh, they stood in the water and escaped, and made the best of their -way back to Alibad when the fire was over, but they didn’t save -anything. Now I must give Hafiza into the charge of the _malli’s_ -wife, and then we will go indoors.” - -The gardener’s wife was a Nalapuri woman, and quite willing to give -shelter to her compatriot, who had been eyeing the European house with -much disfavour; and Lady Haigh called up the two ayahs, and set them -to work at making up some sort of beds, while she and Penelope had -some tea. The moment they were alone she turned to Penelope and said, -“Well?” - -“I don’t know what you mean,” said Penelope. - -“Oh, nonsense! Did he say anything?” - -“He said he should drop me on the sand if we were attacked in front.” - -“Of course, Dugald said that to me. But what else?” - -“Nothing, really. I--I went to sleep, Elma.” - -“Penelope, you are perfectly hopeless! I should dearly like to beat -you. You haven’t one scrap of romance in your whole composition. You -went to sleep!” - -“I was so dreadfully tired--and I felt so safe, so wonderfully safe.” - -“I suppose you expect him to take that as a compliment. But I am -disgusted. Oh, Pen, I didn’t think it of you!” - -“I couldn’t help it,” pleaded Penelope, “and he didn’t mean to say -anything then, I’m sure.” But Lady Haigh refused to be mollified. - -“You gave him no chance. And, as you say, you never even thanked him. -My dear, it was touch and go, as Dugald says. By the greatest mercy, -one of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s men caught sight of our party just before -the guards made us hide behind that sandhill. They thought it was an -ambush, and were all prepared, so that it was rather a surprise when -they were allowed to pass. When they were crossing the plain towards -Sheikhgarh, they were met by a patrol which Major Keeling had sent out -to try and intercept the Sheikh as soon as ever he had heard Murtiza -Khan’s news----” - -“But that must have been in broad daylight.” - -“So it was. The Sheikh’s vow expired, it seems, as soon as his nephew -Ashraf Ali was fourteen. He couldn’t afford to be handicapped when it -was a question of putting the boy on the throne, you see. Well, Major -Keeling had guessed that the enemy would probably send us away -somewhere, lest Sheikhgarh should be retaken; but the only thing he -could do when he heard what the Sheikh had seen was to send out the -_shikari_ Baha-ud-Din, who most happily went back to Alibad with -Dugald, you know, to examine the trail, and he found the marks of our -ponies’ shoes, quite distinct among the native ones. And as soon as it -was dark, he and Dugald and the orderlies started after us. But it was -a near thing.” - -“Very,” agreed Penelope, with a shudder. “If they had taken us just -that one hour’s journey farther, Elma--into Ethiopia!” - -“Well, if you ask me, I am not sure that it would have made very much -difference. A frontier has no peculiar sacredness for Major Keeling, -unless it’s his own. But of course there might have been an Ethiopian -fort, and five men could scarcely have attacked that. Yes, Pen, we -ought to be very thankful. And now here is Dulya to say that our rooms -are ready. I needn’t tell you to sleep well. You seem to have quite a -talent for it!” - - - -After behaving with sufficient heroism during their three days’ trial, -Lady Haigh and Penelope collapsed most unheroically after it. Two -whole days in bed was the smallest allowance they could accept, and -they slept away, peacefully enough, hours in which the fate of the -province might have been hanging in jeopardy, with a culpable -indifference to the interests of civilisation and their race. The -military situation was curious enough, and to the eyes of any one not -trained in the topsy-turvy school of the Khemistan frontier, eminently -disquieting. Gobind Chand’s army still remained in occupation of the -whole hill-district on the west, a potential menace, if not an active -one. The Sheikh-ul-Jabal and his troop of horsemen had left Alibad by -night, intending to make an attempt to regain possession of Sheikhgarh -by means of the secret door to which Wazira Begum had alluded; but as -this necessitated a very wide flanking movement, in order to approach -the place from behind, it was not surprising that nothing had been -heard as yet as to their success. Just across the frontier was Wilayat -Ali’s army, which had let slip its opportunity of combining with -Gobind Chand by attacking Alibad from the desert while he moved out -from the mountains, but still remained willing to wound, if afraid to -strike. Between the two was Major Keeling, with the whole of his small -force mobilised, so to speak, and holding the positions he had devised -to cover the town, while the town itself was inadequately garrisoned -by Dr Tarleton and his volunteers. The dangers of the position were -perceptible to the least skilled eye. In the possession of artillery -alone lay Major Keeling’s advantage; for the fact that the rest of his -force consisted wholly of cavalry, though advantageous in ordinary -cases of frontier warfare, was a drawback when the operations were of -necessity altogether defensive. It was not until four days after their -return to Alibad that the ladies obtained a coherent idea of Major -Keeling’s plan of action, and this was due to a visit from Sir Dugald, -who had come in with orders for Dr Tarleton. - -“I suppose you’re able to take an intelligent interest in all that -goes on, with the help of that telescope of yours?” he asked lazily, -while Lady Haigh and Penelope plied him assiduously with tea and cake -in the few minutes he had to spare. - -“Oh, we see the guns plodding about from place to place, and firing -one or two shots and then stopping, but we can’t make out what you are -doing,” said his wife. - -“We are shepherding Gobind Chand’s men back into the hills whenever -they try to break out. In a day or two more we ought to have them -fairly cornered, unless some utterly unexpected gleam of common-sense -on Wilayat Ali’s part throws us out; but just at present we can do -nothing but ‘wait for something to turn up.’” - -“But how will things be better in a day or two?” asked Penelope. - -“Because the enemy’s supplies must be exhausted by then. These border -armies never carry much food with them, expecting to live on the -country. We are preventing that. There is no food to be got in the -hills, and when they burned the forest they destroyed any chances in -that direction. We have sent Harris with one of the guns to make a -flank march to the south and take up a strong position with Vidal and -his police across the road by which the enemy came, and the Sheikh -will take good care that no stragglers get past him. So far as we can -see, they must either fight or surrender.” - -“But isn’t it rather cruel--starving them out in this way?” - -“Cruel! If you talk of cruelty, wasn’t it cruel of them to fire the -best _shikargah_ in Khemistan? Isn’t it cruel of them now to be -keeping us grilling out on the plains, without time even for a change -of clothes? Why, until I managed to get a bath just now, I hadn’t -taken off my things since the night we rode out to find you!” - -“You looked it, when you rode in two hours ago,” said Lady Haigh, with -such fervent sympathy that her husband requested her indignantly not -to be personal. - -“And if we’re not to starve them out, what are we to do?” he demanded, -still smarting under the accusation of cruelty. “Of course, when an -enemy takes up his quarters in broken country inside your borders, any -fool will tell you you ought to clear him out; but what are you to do -with one weak regiment against an army? Perhaps they will let the -Chief raise another regiment after this--if we come through it--and -give him the two more European officers he’s been asking for so long. -Wilayat Ali might have swept us from the face of the earth if he had a -grain of generalship about him, and Gobind Chand’s army might have -rushed the guns a dozen times over if he could have got them to stand -fire.” - -“But what is it that paralyses them?” asked Lady Haigh. - -“Mutual antipathy, so far as we can make out. It seems that Wilayat -Ali carefully picked out the most disloyal Sardars to serve under -Gobind Chand, evidently in the hope that either we or they would -remove him from his path, and that the Sardars would also get their -ranks thinned. He hasn’t forgotten Gobind Chand’s attempt to get the -Chief’s help in deposing him, after all. But Gobind Chand is not eager -to take the chances of war, and the Sardars don’t quite see hurling -themselves against our guns that Wilayat Ali may have a walk-over; -and, moreover, they see through his scheme now. It’s really as good as -a play, the way the two chief villains are trying to betray one -another to us.” - -“But have they actually tried to open negotiations?” - -“Not formally, of course; but venerable Mullahs and frowsy _fakirs_ -toddle casually into our lines, or try to, and unfold their respective -employers’ latest ideas. Wilayat Ali offers us the contents of his -treasury if we will allow him to join us and help to wipe out Gobind -Chand and the disaffected Sardars. Gobind Chand is rather more -liberal, and offers us the help of his army to annihilate Wilayat Ali -and his supporters, after which he will take the contents of the -treasury and retire into private life, and we may keep Nalapur. No -doubt he wishes us joy of it.” - -“But surely they can’t have started the war with these schemes in -their minds?” - -“Wilayat Ali did, I think; but Gobind Chand seems to have been -overreached for once. His eyes must have been opened when Wilayat Ali -failed to support him in his attack on the town; and he didn’t need a -second warning. The assiduity with which the two villains are playing -Codlin and Short for our benefit is really funny, but I rather think -there’s a surprise in store for each of them.” - -“Something that will punish them both? Oh, do tell us!” - -“Well, there seems some indication that the Sardars are as tired of -one as the other, and will shunt Gobind Chand of their own accord; and -if the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s tales are true, he has worked up a strong -party among Wilayat Ali’s supporters in favour of his nephew Ashraf. -If so, we may expect some startling developments. The pity is, we -can’t force them on, only sit and wait for them to happen.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - THE RIGHT PREVAILS. - -Quite contrary to his expectation, Sir Dugald was able to ride into -the town again the very next evening, and was received with unfeigned -joy by the two ladies, to whom, through the medium of the talk in the -bazar as reported by the servants, all sorts of hopeful and -disquieting rumours had filtered during the interval. Was it true that -Gobind Chand was dead and the Sardars had surrendered, they demanded -eagerly, or was Wilayat Ali marching upon the town? - -“Not that, at any rate,” said Sir Dugald. “In fact, barring accidents, -things are going on pretty well. A deputation from the Sardars came in -last night, bringing a gruesome object tied up in a bundle, which they -said was Gobind Chand’s head, sent in as a guarantee of their good -faith in offering to surrender. Their appearance would have been -sufficient proof, for it was clear they were very hard up; but the -evidence they preferred was distinctly unfortunate, for as soon as the -Chief saw it, he said, ‘It’s not Gobind Chand’s head at all. They have -killed some other Hindu of about the same age, and either they intend -treachery, or the rascal has escaped.’ We had the deputation in, and -put it to them, and in an awful fright they confessed he was right. -Gobind Chand, seeing how matters were going, had managed to get away -some hours before they found it out; but they caught one of his -hangers-on, and thought they would make use of him instead. It was a -very pretty little plan, but they hadn’t counted on the Chief’s memory -for faces.” - -“Served them right!” said Lady Haigh fervently. - -“Well,” Sir Dugald went on, “it was arranged that the chief Sardars -should come in this morning, as suppliants, and hear what terms the -Chief would allow them. But when they came, they were prepared with a -plan of their own. They were on the point of dethroning Wilayat Ali -before the war began, you know, and his ingenious scheme for employing -us to kill them off hasn’t increased their affection for him, so they -proposed quite frankly to proclaim Keeling Amir, and then help him to -get rid of his predecessor. They seemed to fancy the idea a good deal, -and he had quite a long argument with them about it. He would govern -them justly, as he had done Khemistan, they said, and they would be -quite willing to take service under him and fight any one he chose. He -asked them how they ventured to offer the throne to a Christian, and -they were very much amused. They had known he was a good Mussulman -ever since he came to the frontier, they said, and they were sure he -would be glad to be able to give up pretending to be a Kafir. He -assured them they were mistaken, and one after another got up and said -they had heard him read prayers in a mosque, or seen him do miracles. -Of course we knew then what they were driving at; but the trouble was, -that the more he denied it the more they were convinced it was true, -and that he was afraid of _us_. We had never known of his proceedings, -it seemed, and might make trouble for him with the Company. They -adjured him pathetically to let them see him alone, and promised that -not one of the rest of us should leave the tent alive to say what had -happened. If he would only trust himself to them, they would escort -him safely to Nalapur, and, once there, the Company might whistle for -him.” - -“Dugald! you don’t mean to say they would have murdered you?” - -“Like a shot, at a word from Keeling. Things were really beginning to -look rather unpleasant, when the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, in a towering rage, -burst into the conference. It seems that he is back in possession of -Sheikhgarh, having summarily wiped out the Nalapuri garrison. Some of -Gobind Chand’s men tried to make their escape through the hills, and -lost their way and fell into his hands, so he learned something of -what was going on from them. He is not exactly the mirror of chivalry, -you know, in spite of his saintly pretensions; and having so often -traded on his likeness to the Chief, he was seized with a fear that -the Chief was returning the compliment, to the prejudice of young -Ashraf Ali. He brought the youth with him into the conference, and it -was confusion worse confounded when he declared who he was, and -demanded that he should be recognised as Amir. Everybody talked at -once at the top of his voice, and at last, when they had all shouted -themselves hoarse, the Chief had a chance of making himself heard. He -made the Sheikh come and stand beside him, so that the Sardars could -see how the mistake had arisen; and horribly disgusted they were. Then -he invited them to join with us in putting Ashraf Ali on the _gadi_, -with proper guarantees as to the powers to be granted him; and they -were all inclined to agree to that until a Mullah put in his oar, and -said that the youth had been brought up by a heretic, and was no true -Mussulman. Thereupon the Sheikh swore solemnly that his sect were -rather better Mussulmans than other people, and invited any number of -Mullahs to examine into his nephew’s orthodoxy. As they had been -willing to accept Keeling, whose orthodoxy, on their own showing, must -have been extremely shaky, they could not well refuse, and they are -hard at it now, collecting all the Mullahs within reach to badger the -unfortunate boy. If he survives the ordeal creditably, messengers are -to be sent in his name to-morrow to Wilayat Ali, inviting him to -recognise his nephew’s rights, and surrender, when his life and a -suitable maintenance will be granted him. I wouldn’t give much for his -chance of either when the Sheikh is in authority at Nalapur; and if -he’s wise he will prefer to cross the border and take the Sheikh’s -place as the Company’s pensioner.” - -“And if he isn’t wise?” asked Lady Haigh. - -“Well, he’ll scarcely be such a fool as to fight us and the Sardars -together. But if he wants to be nasty, he’ll retreat into Nalapur, and -hold one place after another till he’s turned out, and then wage a -guerilla warfare until he’s hunted down, which would mean unlimited -bloodshed and years of turmoil. That’s his only chance; and as he will -be desperate and at bay, there’s every reason to fear he’ll take it. -Well, I can tell you more next time I see you.” - -The next occasion again arrived unexpectedly soon. It was on the -morning of the second day--rumour, good and bad, having run riot in -the interval--that Sir Dugald galloped up to the verandah, and before -coming indoors, shouted for his bearer and gave him hasty orders, -sending off also a messenger to Major Keeling’s house. - -“We’re off to Nalapur,” he announced hastily, walking in and taking -his seat at the breakfast-table, “to set the king on the throne of the -kingdom, otherwise to put Ashraf Ali on the _gadi_.” - -“Then has Wilayat Ali surrendered, after all?” cried Lady Haigh. - -“Not voluntarily, exactly, but he has been removed. Sounds bad, -doesn’t it? and I’m free to confess that the Sheikh-ul-Jabal has -managed the affair with a cleverness worthy of a worse cause. We have -been simply made use of, all along.” - -“Oh, tell us what has happened! How can you think of breakfast just -now?” - -“How can I? Easily, when you remember that we start in half an hour. -But I’ll do my best to combine breakfast and information. Well, when -the messengers went to invite Wilayat Ali to abdicate in favour of his -nephew, he very naturally sent back an answer breathing defiance, and -containing libellous remarks about the Sheikh’s ancestors and female -relations. The Sheikh promptly despatched a challenge to Wilayat Ali -to meet him in single combat and decide things by the result. Of -course Wilayat Ali returned a refusal, as any man in his senses would, -who had everything to lose by such a combat, and nothing to gain but -the removal of a single adversary. But here came in the Sheikh’s -sharpness. As he told us before, the Amir’s camp was full of his -adherents, and when they heard that Wilayat Ali meant to refuse the -challenge, they raised such a to-do that they nearly brought the place -about his ears. His soldiers became openly mutinous, and the -camp-followers shrieked abuse after him. He must have seen then that -he was cornered, for if he had tried to get back to his capital, he -would pretty certainly have been murdered on the road, so he accepted -the challenge as giving him his one chance. The Sheikh had laid his -plans with such deadly dexterity that there was actually nothing else -to do, for the Sardars were only too pleased to see him in a hole, -after the way he had treated them. So the lists were set--that’s how -the Chief put it--and we all stood to watch. The Sheikh left Ashraf -Ali in Keeling’s charge, and rode out. They were to fight with -javelins first, then with swords. The javelin part was rather a -farce--they threw from such a safe distance, and I don’t think one of -them hit, though one of the Sheikh’s javelins went through Wilayat -Ali’s cloak. When they had thrown all they had, they drew their swords -and really rode at each other. We couldn’t see very clearly what -happened in the first round, but it looked as if something turned the -edge of Wilayat Ali’s sword, and the Chief dashed forward and yelled, -‘It’s murder, absolute murder! Our man wears chain-armour under his -clothes. It’s not a fair fight.’ He wanted to ride in between them and -stop it; but we weren’t going to have him killed, whoever else was, so -we simply hung on to him, and pointed out that as none of us had a -spare suit of chain-armour we could offer to lend the Amir, and the -Sheikh was probably proud of his foresight in wearing his, and would -certainly refuse to take it off, things must settle themselves. He -talked about Ivanhoe and the Templar, but we kept him quiet while they -rode at one another again. This time we saw that, putting the armour -out of the question, the Sheikh was the better man, quicker, more -active, in better training--thanks to the desert life, I suppose. He -avoided Wilayat Ali’s rush in the neatest way--the sword just shaved -his shoulder as it came down--and turned upon him like King Richard in -some book or other, standing in his stirrups and bringing down his -sword with both hands. It’s a regular Crusader’s sword, by the way, -with a cross hilt, and it cut through turban and head both, and the -Amir dropped from the saddle as his horse rushed by. Then came the -finest thing of all. The Chief was boiling over with rage--wanted to -make the Sheikh fight him next, and so on; but on examining Wilayat -Ali’s body we found that he had armour on too. They both wore armour, -each trusting that the other didn’t know it, but each suspecting that -the other wore it too, and that was why they both struck for the head, -so that it was a fair fight after all--from an Oriental point of view. -The Sheikh was proclaimed victor with acclamations, and Ashraf Ali’s -right was acknowledged by most of those present; those who didn’t -acknowledge it thought it best to slink away as unobtrusively as -possible. Then the Sheikh turned to Keeling, and with the utmost -politeness invited him to come to Nalapur as his guest, with an -escort--not a force--to witness the youth’s enthronement. No British -bayonets to put him on the _gadi_, you see. And we are going.” - -“But hasn’t Wilayat Ali a son?” asked Lady Haigh. - -“Yes, Hasrat Ali, who is officiating as governor of the city while his -father is away. I imagine he would meet with an early death if we were -not going to Nalapur; but as it is, the Sheikh intends to marry him to -his niece, Ashraf Ali’s sister.” - -“Oh, poor Wazira Begum!” cried Penelope. “Is the young man nice?” - -“Very far from it, I should say; but when it’s a choice between -marriage and murder, he will probably look at the matter -philosophically.” - -“I wasn’t thinking of him,” said Penelope indignantly, “but of the -poor girl. How can they want her to marry him?” - -“They want to have a check upon him if he takes kindly to the new -state of affairs, and a spy upon him if he turns rusty, and they seem -to think they can trust the young lady to be both.” - -“Well, I call it infamous!” cried Lady Haigh; “and I only hope that -Wazira Begum will refuse and run away. If she comes here, I’ll give -her shelter.” - -“You shouldn’t say that sort of thing in my hearing,” said Sir Dugald, -as he rose from the table. “It might become my duty to insist upon -your giving her up, and what would happen then?” - -“Why, I shouldn’t, of course!” cried Lady Haigh defiantly. - - * * * * * * * - -It was a fortnight before Major Keeling and his escort returned from -Nalapur, but messengers were constantly coming and going between the -city and Alibad, so that there was little scope for anxiety. Sir -Dugald came home late one night, and was instantly seized upon by his -wife and Penelope, and ordered to satisfy their curiosity as to the -course of events, which turned out not to be altogether satisfactory. - -“The Sheikh has no notion of yielding an inch to make things pleasant -on the frontier,” he said. “He will give up criminals of ours who take -refuge in Nalapur, but merely as an act of grace, and he won’t enter -into any regular treaty. No doubt it’s a piece of wisdom on his -part,--for he is regarded with a good deal of suspicion as having -lived so long on British soil,--and his attitude will tend to disarm -the suspicions of the Sardars and the Mullahs.” - -“But how ungrateful!” cried Lady Haigh. “I thought he professed to be -so friendly to Major Keeling?” - -“While he was under his protection, perhaps--not when he can treat -with him as an independent power. And, after all, it has been clear -all along that he was an old fox--what with his vows and -dispensations, and his steady pursuit of a policy of his own when he -persisted he had nothing of the kind in view. He was not exactly our -willing guest from the first, you see, only driven to take refuge with -us as the result of what he considers our treachery. He can’t forget -that old grudge, and really one doesn’t wonder. It gives him a -dreadful pull over us that he can always say he has seen the -consequences of admitting a British force within his borders in time -of peace, and doesn’t wish to see them again.” - -“Then the Nalapuris will be as troublesome as ever?” - -“Pretty nearly, I’m afraid; but as the Chief says, all he can do is to -go on his own way, combining fairness with perfect good faith, and -trust that Ashraf Ali may be induced to enter into a treaty when he is -freed from his uncle’s influence. The worst part of the business at -the present moment is that Gobind Chand has managed to escape into the -mountains between Nalapur and Ethiopia, and has been joined by all who -had reason to think their lives might not last long under the new -state of affairs; and of course any discontented Sardar or rebellious -Mullah will know where to find friends whenever he wants them. Keeling -tried hard to induce the Sheikh to let a force from our side of the -frontier co-operate with him in hunting the fellows down, so as to -stamp out the rebel colony before it can become the nucleus of -mischief; but he utterly refused, and professed to see the thin end of -the wedge in the proposal. They’ll never be able to do it by -themselves, and it’s bound to give us no end of trouble when we have -to take the business in hand at last. But he won’t see reason.” - -“Then has Wilayat Ali’s son joined Gobind Chand?” asked Penelope. - -“Ah, you are thinking of your young lady friend. No; he was caught in -time, and accepted the proposed marriage with resignation. So did the -bride--if she didn’t even suggest it herself as a means of -strengthening her brother’s position. Hasrat Ali is a Syad through his -mother, so it is a very good match, and the Sheikh seems quite -satisfied; but I rather think Ashraf Ali has some qualms. At any rate, -he is giving her the finest wedding ever seen in Nalapur, and emptying -the treasury to buy jewels for her. He has given her the title of -Moti-ul-Nissa, and has had inserted in the marriage-contract a proviso -that neither Hasrat Ali nor his household are ever to quit the city -without his leave. That is to guard against his taking her away into -some country place and ill-treating her, of course, so he has really -done all he can.” - -“Oh, poor girl! poor Wazira Begum!” cried Penelope, with tears in her -eyes. “What a prospect--to marry with such a life before her!” - -“They’re used to it--these native women,” said Sir Dugald, wishing to -be consolatory. - -“Does that make it any better? And you--all of you--acquiesce, and -make no effort to save her!” - -“My dear Miss Ross, what can we do? You know what these fellows are by -this time. If one of us so much as mentioned the young lady, it could -only be wiped out by his blood or hers, or both.” - -“It feels wrong to be happy when such things are going on,” said -Penelope, pursuing a train of thought of her own, apparently. “Can -nothing be done?” - -“Ask the Chief, if you care to,” said Sir Dugald. “He’s coming to -dinner to-morrow.” - -“It really is most unfortunate,” said Lady Haigh, on housewifely -thoughts intent, “that if there is any difficulty with the servants -some one is sure to come to dinner. I know this new cook will lose his -head and do something dreadful. I think you ought to warn Major -Keeling, Dugald.” - -“The Chief never cares much what he eats or drinks,” was the reply; -“and he certainly won’t to-morrow,” added Sir Dugald, too low for -Penelope to hear. - -Lady Haigh’s fears were justified. A few minutes before the dinner -hour she ran into Penelope’s room, looking worried and hot. - -“Oh, Pen, you’re ready! What a good thing! That wretched cook has -ruined the soup, and we can’t have dinner for half an hour. I’ve been -scolding him and trying to suggest improvements all this time, and I’m -not dressed. Go and talk to Major Keeling till I come. Dugald won’t be -in for twenty minutes. Such a chapter of accidents!” - -Nevertheless, Lady Haigh’s voice had not the despairing tone which -might have been expected in the circumstances, and she ran out of the -room again with a haste which seemed calculated to conceal a smile. So -Penelope imagined, and the suspicion was confirmed when Major Keeling -came to meet her as she entered the drawing-room--he had been tramping -up and down in his impatient way--and remarked innocently-- - -“At last! Lady Haigh promised to let me see you alone, but I was -beginning to be afraid she had not been able to manage it. I have been -waiting for hours.” - -“Oh no, only ten minutes. I saw you ride up,” said Penelope, and -turned crimson because she had confessed to the heinous crime of -watching him through the venetians. - -“You knew I was here, and you left me alone--and the time seemed so -short to you! Well, it only confirms what I had been thinking---- -Don’t let me keep you standing. May I sit here? Do you remember, that -evening at Bab-us-Sahel, when I saw you first, you promised to leave -Alibad at the shortest possible notice if I considered it advisable?” - -“Leave Alibad?” faltered Penelope. “I--I know you made me promise, but -I never thought----” - -“I have come to the conclusion that it may be necessary.” - -“But why?” she cried, roused to defend herself. “What have I done?” - -“You are spoiling my work. I can’t tell you how many times to-day I -have had to keep myself from devising ridiculous excuses for taking a -ride in this direction. I had a fortnight’s arrears of writing to make -up, and yet I have spent the day between my desk and the corner of the -verandah where I can get a glimpse of this house. Now, I know you are -too anxious for the welfare of the province to wish me to go on -risking it in this way, and there is only one remedy that I can think -of.” - -“Only one?” Penelope was bewildered and pained. - -“Only one--that you should keep your promise and leave Alibad.” - -“If you wish it I will go, by all means,” she said proudly. - -“But only as far as Bab-us-Sahel, and I shall come after you. And then -I shall bring you back.” - -“Oh!” said Penelope; then, as his meaning dawned upon her. “I didn’t -think you could have been so cruel!” she cried reproachfully. -Realising that she had betrayed herself, she tried to rise, but he was -kneeling beside her chair. - -“Cruel? to a little tender thing like you! No, no; you know I couldn’t -mean that,” he said. - -“It was cruel,” said Penelope, still unreconciled, and venting on him -the anger she felt for herself. “It was unkind,” she repeated feebly. - -“What a blundering fool I am!” he cried furiously. “Why, you are -trembling all over. Dear girl, don’t cry; I shall never forgive -myself. It was only a--a sort of joke. The fact was, I have asked you -to marry me twice already, you see, and I was so unlucky each time -that it made me rather shy of doing it again. I thought I’d see if I -couldn’t get it settled without exactly saying the words, you know. -Tell me I’m a fool, Penelope; call me anything you like--but not -cruel. Cruel to you! I deserve to be shot. Yes, I was cruel; I must -have been, if you say so.” - -“You weren’t. I was silly,” came in a muffled voice. “I only -thought--it would break my heart--to leave--Alibad.” - -“Only Alibad? Is it the bricks and mortar you are so fond of?” - -“I love every brick in the place, because you built it.” - - - -Thus it happened that the journey to Bab-us-Sahel, the suggestion of -which had caused so much distress to Penelope, was duly undertaken, -and Mr Crayne insisted that the wedding should take place from -Government House. He said it was because there was some hope now that -Keeling might get a little common-sense knocked into him at last, -which might have sounded alarming to any one who did not know that the -bride’s head barely reached the bridegroom’s shoulder. But Penelope -had a secret conviction that the old man had not forgotten the morning -at Alibad when he welcomed her as his future niece, and that he had -penetrated her true feelings more nearly than she knew at the time. -Held under such auspices, the wedding was graced by the presence of -all the rank and fashion of Bab-us-Sahel; but Lady Haigh, who had -received a box from home just in time, raised evil passions in the -heart of every lady there by displaying the first crinoline ever seen -in Khemistan. The bride was quite a secondary figure, for not only had -she refused the loan of the coveted garment, but she defied public -opinion by wearing an embroidered “country muslin” instead of the -stiff white watered silk which her aunt and Colin had insisted she -should take out with her three years before. - -It must be confessed that Penelope was not a success when she returned -to Alibad as the Commandant’s wife, and therefore the _burra memsahib_ -of the place. The town is still famous in legend as the only station -in India where the ladies squabble over giving, instead of taking, -precedence. Long afterwards Lady Haigh congratulated herself on having -been the means of averting bloodshed on one occasion, when a visiting -official, finding himself placed between two ladies of equally -retiring disposition, decided to offer his arm to the baronet’s wife. -“I saw thunder in Colonel Keeling’s eye,” said Lady Haigh (Major -Keeling had received the news of his promotion shortly before the -wedding), “so I just curtsied to the General, and said, ‘Mrs Keeling -is the chief lady present, sir,’ and he accepted the hint like a -lamb.” But at the time, or rather, in the privacy of a call the next -morning, she had taken Penelope to task. - -“You don’t put yourself forward enough, Pen,” she said. “Do you think -that if I had been _burra mem_, the poor General would have had a -moment’s doubt as to the person he was to take in to dinner? You make -yourself a sort of shadow of your husband--never do anything on your -own responsibility, in fact. Why, when the history of the province -comes to be written, people will dispute whether Colonel Keeling ever -had a wife at all!” - -“Will they?” said Penelope, momentarily distressed. “Oh, I hope not, -Elma. I should like them to say that there was one part of his life -when he got on better with the Government, and left off writing -furious letters even when he was unjustly treated, and was more -patient with people who were stupid. Then if they ask what made the -difference, I should like to think that they will say, ‘Oh, that was -when his wife was alive.’” - -“My dear Pen, you are not allowing yourself a very long life.” - -Penelope coloured. “I daresay it’s silly,” she said; “but that is how -I feel.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - “FOR THINE AND THEE.” - -About a year after Colonel Keeling’s marriage, there came a time -when troubles crowded thick and fast upon the Alibad colony. An -earthquake did terrible damage to the great irrigation-works, which -were fast approaching completion; and when this was followed by -unusually heavy winter rains, the result was a disastrous inundation. -It was a new thing for Khemistan, and especially its northern portion, -to be afflicted with too much rain instead of too little; but the -change seemed to have the effect of making the climate even more -unhealthy than usual. The European officers who rode from village to -village distributing medicines and food, and encouraging the people to -rebuild their houses and cultivate their spoilt fields afresh, fell -ill one after the other; and there was almost as much sickness among -the troopers of the Khemistan Horse, most of whom came from another -part of India, and found the salt desert a land of exile. The alarm -caused by the Nalapuri invasion had at last drawn the attention of the -Government to Colonel Keeling’s reiterated requests for a larger -force; and he had been allowed to raise a second regiment, which he -was moulding vigorously into shape when the troubles began. It was -these new men and their unacclimatised officers who went down so -quickly, and must needs be invalided to the coast; and the Commandant -found himself left with little more than his original force and -European staff when the news came that Gobind Chand was threatening -the frontier anew. From Gobind Chand’s point of view the move was a -timely one, if not the only one possible to him, for the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, at the head of the young Amir’s troops, was -shouldering him mercilessly out of Nalapur, quite content to leave to -Colonel Keeling the task of dealing with him finally. By dint of -avoiding a pitched battle, and presenting a resolute front to his -pursuers, the ex-Vizier had contrived to keep his force almost intact, -and a golden opportunity seemed to be presenting itself for dealing a -blow at one of his chief enemies while he was already in difficulties. - -So black was the outlook that Colonel Keeling thought it would be well -to send the ladies down as far as the river, at any rate; but they -rebelled, pointing out that such a step would cause the natives to -despair of the British cause. Lady Haigh flatly refused to go; -Penelope said she would go if her husband wished it, but entreated so -piteously to be allowed to stay that he, dreading the journey for her, -and little able to spare an escort, consented on the condition that -she left off visiting the native town to take help to the sufferers -there. After all, it was Lady Haigh who was seized with fever and had -to be nursed by Penelope, and she was scarcely convalescent when the -two husbands were obliged to leave Alibad once more under the -protection of the ever-useful Fencibles, and march to the north-east -to repel Gobind Chand. The old Hindu had developed a remarkable power -of generalship at this stage in his career. He refused steadily to -come out on the plains, or even to show his full strength in the -hills. His plan was to lead the small British force a weary dance -through broken country, eluding capture when it seemed inevitable that -he must be caught, and watching for an opportunity of surprising the -weary and dispirited troops. - -But it was such an emergency as this that brought out the strongest -points in Colonel Keeling’s character. To find in the ex-Vizier a -foeman worthy of his steel sent his spirits up with a rush; and, as he -had no intention of playing into Gobind Chand’s hands, a very short -experience determined him to strike out tactics of his own. Somehow or -other it became known in the British camp that Colonel Keeling felt -considerable anxiety as to the good faith of Nalapur, now that he was -so far from Alibad. What could be easier than for the Sheikh-ul-Jabal -to swoop down on the practically defenceless town and level it with -the ground? Hence it was very natural that the Commandant should -divide his force, sending back the larger portion, under Major Porter, -for the defence of the town, and retaining only one gun and a small -number of troops for the pursuit of Gobind Chand. Whether Colonel -Keeling had exercised his reputed powers, and actually detected spies -among his camp-followers, or was merely making a bold guess, certain -it is that two or three individuals who had attached themselves to the -British force in order to assure the Commandant that the number of -Gobind Chand’s adherents had been grossly exaggerated, contrived to -become separated from it in the darkness, and by inadvertence, no -doubt, to fall in with the enemy’s scouts, and relate what Kīlin -Sahib was doing. Therefore, as Porter marched away with his force, and -the dust of their passage was seen vanishing in the direction of -Alibad, Gobind Chand was able to concentrate his men round the hollow -in which the British camp lay. Incautious as Colonel Keeling might -have been, he was not the man to be taken by surprise, and he broke -camp in some haste, and effected a safe retreat. But this retreat was -in itself an encouragement to the enemy--especially since the British -force did not make for the plains, but seemed fated to wander farther -into the hills--and Gobind Chand followed close upon its heels. At -evening things looked very black for Colonel Keeling. He and his small -body of men were holding a low hill which was commanded on all sides -by higher hills. The valley surrounding it had only one opening, that -to the north, by which he had entered, and across which Gobind Chand -was now encamped, and it seemed quite clear that he had been caught in -a _cul-de-sac_. He was clearly determined to fight to the last, -however, for his men kept up a perfect pandemonium of noise at -intervals all night. They fired volleys at imaginary enemies, -performed trumpet fantasias at unseemly hours, and dragged their -solitary gun, with much difficulty and noise, from place to place on -the crest of the hill, apparently to find out where it would be of -most service. In the morning Colonel Keeling looked at Sir Dugald and -laughed. - -“It’s Gobind Chand or me to-day,” he said. “If he doesn’t advance into -the valley in half an hour, we are done.” - -Before the specified time had elapsed, however, the vanguard of Gobind -Chand’s force was pouring into the valley, the besieged keeping their -gun for use later. Taking advantage of the cover afforded by the rocks -with which the valley was strewn, the enemy, cautious in spite of -their superiority of numbers, settled down to “snipe” at the hill-top. -Colonel Keeling was radiant, and his men needed nothing to complete -their happiness when they heard him muttering concerning “stainless -Tunstall’s banner white,” “priests slain on the altar-stone,” -“Fontarabian echoes,” and other things outside their ken. Suddenly, as -he was making the round of the hill-top, and pushing his men down into -cover, for the twentieth time, he found himself confronted by one of -his own _chaprasis_ from Alibad, who, with a respectfully immobile -face, held forth a letter. The Commandant turned it over as if he was -afraid to open it. - -“How did you get here, Rahim Khan?” he asked. - -“By a rope from the top of the cliff, sahib.” - -“Fool! could the enemy see you?” - -“Nay, sahib; I was hidden by this hill as I crossed the valley.” - -No further reason for delay offering itself, Colonel Keeling turned -his back upon the man and opened the letter. As he drew out the -enclosure his hands shook and his dark face was white. As if by main -force he unfolded the paper and held it before his eyes, which refused -at first to convey any meaning to his mind:-- - - - “Alibad. 1 A.M. - - “Daughter born shortly before midnight; fine healthy child. Mrs - Keeling doing well. - - “J. Tarleton.” - - - -An exclamation of thankfulness broke from the Commandant, and he -brushed something from his eyes before turning again to the -_chaprasi_. - -“There will be a hundred rupees for you when I return, Rahim Khan. You -had no message but this?” - -“One that the Memsahib’s ayah brought me, from her mistress’s own -lips, sahib. It was this: Say to the Sahib, ‘Is it well with thee, as -it is well with me?’” - -“Then say this to the ayah: Tell the Memsahib, ‘It is well with me, -since it is well with thee.’ Stay,” he wrote hastily on the back of -the doctor’s note two or three lines from what Penelope always told -him was the only one of Tennyson’s poems he could appreciate:-- - - “‘Thy face across his fancy comes, - And gives the battle to his hands.’ - ... - ‘Like fire he meets the foe, - And strikes him dead for thine and thee.’” - -“If you deliver that safely, it will mean another hundred rupees,” he -said, giving the note to the _chaprasi_ with a smile. “You had better -be off at once. It will be pretty hot here presently.” - -The man still lingered. “Is there going to be a battle, sahib?” he -asked. - -“Doesn’t it look like it?” Bullets were flying round Colonel Keeling -as he spoke, and he laughed again. - -“You are certain you are just going into battle, sahib?” - -“Certain; but I am not asking you to go into it with me. Get out of -the way of the bullets as fast as you like.” - -Rahim Khan retired, but with dragging steps, and made his way slowly -to Sir Dugald, who was in charge of the gun. To him he gave a second -note, which he took from his turban. Sir Dugald tore it open, and for -the moment his heart stood still, for he thought it referred to his -own wife; but on turning it over he saw that it also was addressed to -Colonel Keeling. - - - “2 A.M. - - “Symptoms less satisfactory. If you could ride over, it might be as - well. I don’t say it is necessary, but it would please Mrs Keeling. - - J. Tarleton.” - - -“How dare you give me this, when it is meant for the Colonel Sahib?” -demanded Sir Dugald. - -“I must have given the wrong _chit_, sahib,” and a third note was -produced, this time addressed unmistakably to Sir Dugald. - - - “Dear Haigh,--I am not at all satisfied about Mrs Keeling, and she - knows it, but is most anxious that her husband’s mind should not be - disturbed. I have had to give her my word of honour that if a battle - is imminent he shall hear nothing until it is quite over, and the only - way of managing this that I can see is to ask you to take charge of - the second chit I have given Reheem Khaun, and hand it to Keeling at - the proper time. Lady Haigh has been my right hand, and has stood the - strain well. She is now resting for an hour or two. - - J. Tarleton.” - -“If the Karnal (Colonel) Sahib found that the dust of his feet had -hidden the _chit_ from him, he would be very angry,” murmured the -apologetic voice of Rahim Khan, “but seeing it is Haigh Sahib who does -it, his wrath will be appeased.” - -“I see. You want to shift the responsibility from your shoulders to -mine. Well, be off!” said Sir Dugald, with an uneasy laugh. He could -scarcely meet Colonel Keeling’s eye when he hurried down to him a -minute or two later, brimful of his good news, and anxious to be -assured that Lady Haigh also was going on well; and he was grateful to -Gobind Chand for choosing this juncture to launch a detachment of his -men at the steepest, and therefore least defended, side of the hill. - -“Now is our time!” cried Colonel Keeling, hurrying away. “You can fire -the signal-shot, Haigh.” - -The gun boomed forth, and the shot fell in the very opening of the -valley, causing the rest of Gobind Chand’s men to rush forward, in the -belief that they would be safer within the range of fire than at its -limit, an idea which seemed to be justified by the fact that Sir -Dugald left the gun as it was, instead of depressing the muzzle to -cover the enemy actually in the valley. But as the besiegers, much -encouraged, rushed forward with shouts to scale the hill, there came a -sharp rattle of musketry from the cliffs which commanded it on both -sides. The dark uniform of the Khemistan Horse showed itself against -the grey and yellow of the rocks, and Porter on one side and Harris on -the other became clearly visible as they ran along the ranks pushing -down the muzzles of the carbines, and adjuring the men to fire low for -fear of hitting the Colonel’s party. Then also the defenders of the -hill, who had been lying hidden among the rocks, started up and poured -their fire into the disorderly ranks of the besiegers, so that only -one or two daring spirits survived to reach the summit and provoke a -hand-to-hand fight with tulwars. Outwitted, and conscious that they, -and not their opponents, were in a trap, Gobind Chand’s force -remembered only that there was still a way of escape; and the wave -which had surged three times halfway up the hill retreated sullenly, -then broke in wild confusion, and rushed for the opening of the -valley. But Sir Dugald was ready for them. His gun dropped shot after -shot in the narrowest part of the passage, until a barrier of dead and -dying barred those behind from attempting the deadly rush, and when -the boldest had been able to persuade their more timid comrades, who -stood huddled in a terrified mass, to make one last united effort to -burst through, they found themselves confronted by a force composed of -every alternate man of Porter and Harris’s commands. The heights were -still occupied, the defenders of the hill had deployed and were -advancing on them from behind, in front were stern faces and levelled -carbines. There were no Ghazis with Gobind Chand, and the bulk of his -followers were not particularly heroic by nature. They knew that their -leader was wounded, and they threw down their arms and yelled for -quarter. A narrow pathway was cleared beside the ghastly heap in the -entrance of the valley, and they were made to step out man by man, and -carefully searched, for notwithstanding their losses, they were still -more than thrice as numerous as Colonel Keeling’s force. There was no -question of letting them go, for this would have meant for them either -a slow death by hunger or a swift one at the hands of the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal; they were to be planted out, under strict -supervision, in small colonies in different parts of Upper Khemistan, -and they rather welcomed the prospect than otherwise. - -It was long before the prisoners were all disarmed, their spoil -collected, a meal provided for them, and the different bands set on -the march, duly guarded, for their various destinations; and not until -then did Sir Dugald venture to give Colonel Keeling the letter which -was burning in his pocket. He saw the sudden fury in the Commandant’s -eyes as he realised the truth, and braced himself to meet it. - -“You--you dared to keep this from me all these hours?” - -“It was her wish. She made Tarleton promise.” - -Colonel Keeling turned and shouted for his horse. “I will never -forgive you if anything goes wrong!” He flung the words at Sir Dugald -as he mounted, then clattered furiously down the rocky track, followed -by his orderlies. One of them fell from his saddle exhausted before -half the distance was covered, the horse of the other broke down when -Alibad was barely in sight; but about sunset a desperate man rode a -black horse white with foam at breakneck speed through the streets, -and reined up precipitately in the compound of Government House. The -servants, gathered in whispering groups, fell away from him as he -sprang up the steps, but the old _khansaman_ ventured to speak as he -saw his master pause to unbuckle the sword which clanked behind him. - -“It is not necessary, sahib,” he murmured humbly; but Colonel Keeling -looked straight through him, laid the sword noiselessly on a chair, -and went on, to be met by Dr Tarleton, who caught him by the arm. - -“Keeling, wait! There were bad symptoms, you know----” - -His friend brushed him aside as if he had been a feather, stepped past -the weeping ayah, who threw herself on her knees before him and tried -to sob out something, swept back the curtain from the doorway and -crossed the room at a stride, then fell as one dead beside the dead -form of his wife, in whose hand was still clenched the note he had -scribbled on the battlefield. - -There he remained for hours, his arms outstretched across the bed, no -one venturing to disturb him, until Lady Haigh, her eyes bright with -fever, tottered into the room, and laid a hot hand on his shoulder. - -“Come!” she said. “Colonel Keeling, you must. She would have wished -it. You must change your clothes and have something to eat, and then -you must see the baby--Penelope’s baby.” - -She could hardly bring her trembling lips to utter the name, but it -disarmed the angry protest she had read in his face. The child which -had cost Penelope’s life! how could he regard it with anything but -aversion? but how she had loved to think of it, planned for it, worked -for it! He turned to Lady Haigh. - -“I will see the--the child at once, if you please, that you may feel -more at ease. Then Tarleton must take you in hand. Haigh must not be -left alone, as I am.” - -The ayah stood in the doorway, with a curiously wrapped-up bundle in -her arms. Lady Haigh took it from her, and started in surprise, for on -the child’s forehead was a large black smudge, something in the shape -of a cross. - -“Who did this?” she asked sharply. “Please take her, Colonel Keeling. -My arms are so weak.” - -“My Memsahib did it herself,” whimpered the ayah sullenly, with a -frightened glance towards the bed. - -“Nonsense, Dulya! Make her say what it is,” she appealed to Colonel -Keeling. - -“Speak!” he said, in the tone which no native ever disobeyed. - -“It was shortly before the--the end, sahib, and Haigh Sahib’s Mem had -swooned, so that the Doctor Sahib was busy with her, and my Memsahib, -who had the _baba_ lying beside her, asked me for water. Then I -brought it, and she made that mark which the Sahib sees, on the -_baba’s_ forehead, and uttered a spell in the language of the Sahibs, -saying ‘Jājia! Jājia!’ very loud. Then I saw that she was making a -charm to avert the evil eye from the _baba_, but that her soul was -even then departing, so that she used water instead of something that -could be seen. Therefore, when she was dead, I made the mark afresh -with lamp-black, saying ‘Jājia! Jājia!’ as my Memsahib had done, -that her wish might be fulfilled. But the English words I knew not. -Perhaps the Sahib can say them?” she added anxiously. - -“What can it mean?” asked Lady Haigh, who had dropped into a chair. - -“She was baptising her,” said Colonel Keeling simply. “Poor little -Georgia--Penelope’s baby!” - -“Surely she must have meant Georgiana or Georgina?” suggested Lady -Haigh, delighted to see him interested in the child. - -“No, it was a fancy of hers, she told me so once. She wanted to name -it after me, but she didn’t wish people to think my name was George.” -He spoke with a laugh which was more like a sob. - -“I know. She had a dislike to the name.” Lady Haigh knew well why this -was. “She would never even call you St George, I noticed.” - -He bent over the child to hide the working of his face, and kissed its -forehead. “It’s not even like her,” he said, as he gave it back to -Lady Haigh. - -“No; she was so pleased it was like you. Colonel Keeling, don’t steel -your heart against the poor little thing! Think how Penelope loved it. -I know she hoped it would comfort you.” - -“Nothing can comfort me,” he answered; then added quickly, “Lady -Haigh, do me one more kindness. Keep the servants, Tarleton, every -one--away from me to-night. They will want to take her away from me in -the morning, I know. I must stay beside her to-night.” - -The strong man’s humble entreaty touched Lady Haigh inexpressibly. She -offered no further remonstrance, but signed to the ayah to depart, and -drawing the curtain behind her, left him alone with his dead. She gave -the servants their orders, which they obeyed thankfully enough, -induced even Dr Tarleton to retire, sorely against his will, to his -own quarters, and crept wearily into her _palki_ to go home. She had -risen from her sick-bed to return to the house of mourning, drawn -thither by a horrified whisper from her own ayah to the effect that -“the Karnal Sahib had fallen dead on beholding the body of the -Memsahib,” and she knew that she would pay dearly for the imprudence. -But unutterable pity for the desolate man and the motherless child -quenched all thought of self. - -Silence reigned throughout the great house, whence the servants had -departed to their quarters. Even the watchman had been forbidden to -occupy his accustomed post on the verandah, and in the absence of the -regiment and the general disorganisation, no one had thought of -posting any sentries about the compound. The sounds in the town died -out by degrees, until only the occasional distant howl of a jackal -broke the stillness. Colonel Keeling did not hear it, any more than he -did a stealthy footfall which crossed the compound. The old -_khansaman_, crouching, contrary to orders, in a corner of the side -verandah, heard the step, and covered his head in an agony of terror. -Was not the Sahib seeking to recall the Memsahib’s soul to her body? -and was it not returning? But Colonel Keeling heard nothing, until the -curtain was drawn aside by a hasty hand, and a man stood in the -doorway looking at him, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment. -For a moment both men gazed at each other, then a change passed over -Colonel Keeling’s face which was terrible to see. Deliberately he drew -the sheet over his wife’s face, then crossed the room and hurled -himself upon the intruder. - -“You--you!” he snarled, forcing him back into the hall. “Was there no -grave in Gamara deep enough to hide your shame that you must bring it -back here?” - -The other man struggled in his grasp a moment, then, realising that -his adversary was endowed with a mad strength before which his efforts -were like those of a child, submitted to be forced down upon the -floor. Colonel Keeling stooped over him with murder in his eyes. - -“What have you to say before I kill you as you deserve--traitor, -renegade, _Judas_?” he hissed. - -“Nothing--except to thank you for saving me the job,” was the reply, -spoken with difficulty, for a hand was on the prostrate man’s throat. -The grip was loosed, and Colonel Keeling rose to his feet and stood -glaring at him, his fists clenched at his sides. - -“You’re right. The job is not one I care for. You can go, and relieve -the earth of your presence yourself.” - -“Don’t be afraid. Life is not so delightful as to make me cling to it. -Yes; I’m down. Kick me again if you like.” - -“Go, while I can keep my hands off you, will you?” - -“Tell me where to find Colin Ross, and I will. He’s not at his old -quarters, and I don’t think he would turn his back--even on me.” - -“You miserable hypocrite! At his old quarters? when you stood by to -see him martyred in the palace square at Gamara! Don’t try to throw -dust in my eyes. I know the whole story.” - -But the man sat up with a look of genuine horror. “On my honour, -Keeling--good God! what can I swear by to make you believe me?--I know -nothing of this. Tell me what you mean. When did it happen?” - -“Less than a year after you disappeared. Colin went to find -you--rescue you----” In spite of himself, Colonel Keeling was moved by -the terror on the man’s face. “He was denounced by your friend Mirza -Fazl-ul-Hacq, imprisoned and tortured, then beheaded because he would -not turn Mussulman and enter the Khan’s army. You were present, in -command of the troops. You saw it all.” - -“That was not Colin. That was Whybrow. Now I know what you mean.” - -“Whybrow--whom you went to save?” - -“And did not. Yes. But where is Colin?” he broke out fiercely. “You -say he arrived at Gamara, was imprisoned--you know this? It is not -merely a rumour of Whybrow’s fate? Then he must be there now--in the -dungeon where I saw Whybrow----” his voice fell. - -“No, no, he could not have lived so long--if all they say is true.” - -“How do you know what a man can bear and live? You despise me, and -abuse me, but you have never had the choice given you between Islam -and being eaten alive by rats in an infernal hole underground. That is -where Colin is--and that’s what Fazl-ul-Hacq meant when he was dying. -There was some order he wished to give, and did not want me to hear, -but he couldn’t get it out--curse him! If Colin had died or been -killed, I should have heard of it. And that is where I shall be if I -can live to get back there.” - -“You mean to save him?” Colonel Keeling’s voice had taken a different -tone. - -“There is no saving any one from the dungeons of Gamara. But I can die -with him. Was there no one”--with sudden fierceness--“who had common -humanity enough to put that fellow in irons, or send him home as a -lunatic, instead of letting him come after me? He was bound to be a -martyr, but to let him rush upon his death in that--that way!” - -He stopped in shuddering disgust, then laughed wildly. - -“And how has the world gone with you, Keeling? Got your promotion, I -see, but not exempt from trouble any more than the rest of us! But -what mild, milk-and-water, bread-and-butter lives you lead down here! -You should come to Gamara to see what primitive human passions are -like.” - -“Will you go?” asked Colonel Keeling, putting a strong constraint upon -himself. - -“You might let me have a word or two with the only Englishman I shall -see till Colin and I meet among the rats in the well! Any messages for -Colin? I suppose Penelope has forgotten us both long ago?” - -“If you mention her name again I will kill you.” Colonel Keeling’s -grip was on his throat once more. “She is lying there dead--dead, do -you hear? and all the trouble in her life was due to you. Go!” and he -released him with a thrust which sent him reeling against one of the -pillars of the hall. But the shock seemed to have calmed him. - -“Dead--just now? She married you, then? I found all the place -deserted--I didn’t know. Sometimes I think my mind is going. If you -knew what my life has been in that hell----! Forgive me, Keeling. I am -going. Wish me good luck!” - -“God help you!” said Colonel Keeling fervently. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - AFTER TOIL--TOIL STILL. - -Nearly three years after Penelope’s death, Sir Dugald rode into -Alibad as a stranger. The long illness which followed on Lady Haigh’s -exertions on behalf of her friend so exhausted her strength that she -was ordered a voyage to the Cape as the only hope of saving her life, -and despite her frantic protests, her husband applied for two years’ -leave and took her there, much as an unrelenting warder might convey a -reluctant prisoner to his doom. He was rewarded by an opportunity of -seeing service in one of the perennial Kaffir Wars of the period as -galloper to the general commanding, which served also to mitigate his -disappointment at being absent when a little war, outside the borders -of Khemistan, gave to Colonel Keeling the local rank of -Brigadier-General, and to the Khemistan Horse the chance of -distinguishing themselves beyond the bounds of their own district. Mr -Crayne had retired, and his successor proved to be that rare being, a -civilian who could make himself liked and trusted by his military -subordinates--one, moreover, who knew and appreciated the work which -had been done on the Khemistan frontier, and was anxious for its -continuance. The development of the resources of the country, at which -Major Keeling had so long laboured single-handed, was now pressed -forward in every possible way; and Sir Dugald, as he rode, noted the -handsome bazars which had replaced some, at least, of the old rows of -mud huts, and the growth of the cantonments, which testified to an -increase in the European population. The trees which he had seen -planted were now full grown, the public gardens were worthy of their -name, and there was nothing warlike in the aspect of the -weather-beaten old fort, which seemed as if the passage of years would -reduce it by slow degrees to a heap of mud grown over with bushes. - -Fronting the fort, but almost hidden by the trees with which it was -surrounded, stood General Keeling’s house, and Sir Dugald rode into -the compound, to be saluted with evident pleasure by several of the -servants, who came to ask after the Memsahib. As he entered the -well-known office, he had a momentary glimpse of a grey-haired man in -shirt-sleeves, writing as if for dear life, and then General Keeling -jumped up and welcomed him joyfully. - -“How are you, Haigh? Delighted to see you, but never thought of -expecting you till to-morrow. You haven’t dragged Lady Haigh -up-country at this pace, I hope?” - -“No, sir; I left her at the river. The fact is, Mr Pater wants me to -go on with the steamer.” - -“And not come here at all? Why, man, your house is all ready for you.” -The bright look of welcome had gone from General Keeling’s face, -leaving it painfully old and worn. “But I know what it is. King -John”--alluding to the imperious ruler of a neighbouring -province--“wants more men.” - -“He does, and he asks specially for gunners. It’s by no wish of mine, -General; but the Commissioner is anxious to send every man we can -spare. The news doesn’t improve.” - -“No, of course not. How could it? Haven’t I been telling them for -thirty years that we should have to reconquer India if they didn’t -mend their ways, and they only called me croaker and prophet of evil? -Well, time brings about its revenges. For the last ten years John -would cheerfully have seen me hanged on the nearest tree of my own -planting, and now he steals my officers to keep his province quiet. -Go, Haigh, certainly; and every man I can spare shall go, as Pater -says. We have got lazy and luxurious up here of late. It’ll do some of -these youngsters good to go back to the old days, when a man’s life -and the fate of the province depended on his eye and his sword. Not -but that I have a fine set of young fellows just now. They all want to -come up here--flattering, isn’t it?--and I have to thin ’em out.” He -laughed, and so did Sir Dugald, who had heard strange tales of the -General’s methods of weeding out the recruits who offered themselves -to him. “But how long can you stay, Haigh? Only to-night? Oh, -nonsense! Where are your things?” - -“I left them at Porter’s, sir.” - -“How dare you? I’ll have them fetched away at once. Send a _chit_ to -Porter, and say I’ll break him if he tries to detain them. But tell -him to come to dinner, and we’ll have Tarleton and Harris and Jones, -and yarn about the old times--all of us that are left of the old lot.” - -He broke off with an involuntary sigh, and Sir Dugald wrote his note. -Presently General Keeling turned to him with a twinkle in his eye. -“Don’t tell Lady Haigh on any account, but I can’t help feeling -relieved that she isn’t coming up just yet. I know she’ll want to give -me good advice about my little Missy there, and Tarleton and I are so -sinfully proud of the way we have brought her up that we won’t stand -any advice on the subject.” - -Surprised, Sir Dugald followed the direction of his eyes, to see in a -corner, almost hidden by a huge despatch-box, a small girl with a -curious pink-and-white frock and a shock of dark hair. - -“She would play there quietly all day, never coming out unless I call -her,” said General Keeling. “If she isn’t with me, she’s with -Tarleton, watching him at his work. He gives her an old -medicine-bottle or two, and some sand and water, and she’s as happy as -possible, pretending to make up pills and mixtures. Or she begs a bit -of paper from me, and writes for ever so long, and brings it to me to -be sealed up in an official envelope--making up returns, you see. -Missy,” raising his voice, “come here and speak to Captain Haigh. He -held you in his arms when you were only two or three days old, and you -have often heard about him in your Godmamma’s letters.” - -The child obeyed at once, disclosing the fact that her embroidered -muslin frock (which Sir Dugald had a vague recollection had been sent -her by his wife) had been lengthened and adorned by the tailor at his -own discretion by the addition of three flounces of common pink -English print. She held out a little brown hand to the stranger in -silence. - -“Does us credit, doesn’t she?” asked her father, smoothing back the -elf-locks from her forehead. Sir Dugald’s domestic instincts were in -revolt at the idea of the child’s being brought up by two men, without -a woman at hand even to give advice; but there was such anxiety in -General Keeling’s voice that he crushed down his feelings and ventured -on the remark that Missy was a very fine girl for her age. - -“We are not very successful with her hair,” the father went on. “The -ayah tries to curl it, but either Missy is too restless, or Dulya -doesn’t know quite the right way to set about it. It never looks -smooth and shiny like children’s hair in pictures.” - -Sir Dugald wisely waived the question, feeling that he was not an -authority on the subject. “Can she--isn’t she--er--old enough to -talk?” he asked, with becoming diffidence. - -“Talk! you should hear her chattering to Tarleton and me, or to her -favourites in the regiment. But she doesn’t wear her heart upon her -sleeve with strangers. If she takes a liking to you, it’ll be -different presently.” - -“Do you let her run about among the men?” - -“She runs nowhere out of my sight or Tarleton’s or Dulya’s. But the -whole regiment are her humble slaves, and the man she deigns to favour -is set up for life, in his own opinion. What would happen if she took -a dislike to a man I don’t know, but I hardly think his skin would be -safe. Commendation from me is nothing compared with the honour -conferred by the Missy Baba when she allows a stiff-necked old -Ressaldar to take her up in his arms, and is good enough to pull his -beard.” - -“She is absurdly like you, General,” said Sir Dugald, disapproval of -what he had just heard making itself felt in his tone, in spite of -himself, while Missy rubbed her rough head against her father’s sleeve -like a young colt. - -“Horribly like me,” returned General Keeling emphatically. “Run away -and play, Missy. I can scarcely see a trace of her mother in her,” he -went on, with something of apology in his voice. “You know what my -wife was--that she couldn’t bear me out of her sight. I changed the -arrangement of this room, you remember, because she liked to be able -to see me through the open doors from where she sat, so that I could -look up and nod to her now and then. But Missy is almost like a doll, -that you can put away when you don’t want it, she’s so quiet in that -corner of hers. No; there is one thing in which she is like her -mother. If you say a hasty word to her, she will go away and break her -heart over it in her corner, instead of flaring up as I should do----” - -“Or writing furious letters?” suggested Sir Dugald slily. - -General Keeling smiled, but refused to be turned from his own train of -thought. “Haigh,” he said earnestly, “take care of your wife while you -have her. Mine took half my life with her when she went. If you could -imagine for one moment the difference--the awful difference--it makes, -you would go down on your knees and implore your wife’s pardon for -everything you had ever done or said that could possibly have hurt -her, and beg her not to leave you.” - -“Oh, we rub along all right,” said Sir Dugald hastily, in mortal fear -that the Chief was going to be sentimental. “Elma takes everything in -good part. She understands things almost as well as a man.” - -General Keeling smiled again, rather pityingly. Perhaps he had some -idea of the lofty tolerance with which Lady Haigh would have heard the -utterance of this handsome testimony. “My little Missy and I -understand one another better than that,” he said. - -“Do you think of taking her home soon?” asked Sir Dugald. - -“Not of taking her home. My home is here. I suppose I must send her -home some day--not yet, happily. If there was only her present -happiness and mine to consider, I would never part from her, but dress -her in boy’s clothes and take her about with me wherever I went.” - -“Heaven forbid!” said Sir Dugald devoutly. - -“Don’t be an old woman, Haigh,” was the crushing rejoinder. “What harm -could come to her where I was--and when the whole regiment would die -before a hair of her head should be touched? But Tarleton thinks it -would tell against the girl when she grew up, and I remember my own -youth too well to subject her to the same sort of thing. No, I shall -get your wife or some other good woman to take her home and hand her -over to her mother’s friend, Miss Marian Arbuthnot. You must have -heard Lady Haigh speak of her? They all studied together at that -College of theirs, and now Miss Arbuthnot has a school or seminary, or -whatever they call it, of her own.” - -“Surely her views are very advanced?” Sir Dugald ventured to suggest. - -“I am glad they are. I hope they are. If it should turn out, when -Missy grows up, that she has a turn for doctoring, I shall beg Miss -Arbuthnot to cultivate it, if it can be done. There’s a lady doctor in -America, you know, and I hope there’ll be another here.” - -Sir Dugald looked the dismay he felt. “So unwomanly--so unbefitting a -lady!” he murmured. - -“Do you mean to tell me that her mother’s daughter could be anything -but a perfect lady?” - -“Considering that she will have been brought up by Tarleton and -yourself, sir, I should say she would be more likely to turn out a -perfect gentleman,” said Sir Dugald gravely, and General Keeling -laughed aloud. - -“Well,” he said, “there’s no need to settle Missy’s future as yet, and -she will choose for herself, of course. After all, my motives are -purely selfish. Do you know that our only trustworthy friend in -Nalapur is that excellent woman, the Moti-ul-Nissa, young Ashraf Ali’s -sister? Well, you remember what a little spitfire she was as a girl, -when you and I saw her. Her friendliness dates entirely from the time -when your wife and mine took refuge at Sheikhgarh, and my wife won the -young lady’s heart by showing her what to do for her sick brother. -Think what a prop it would be to our influence here if there was a -properly trained lady who could win the hearts of other women in the -same way!” - -“You want to see Missy a female politician, then?” - -“I want to see her able to get at these unfortunate secluded women and -find out what their real views and wishes are. The Moti-ul-Nissa has -about the wisest head in Nalapur, but her wisdom might as well be in -the moon for all I hear of it until after the event. Her brother is -altogether under the influence of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and the old man -can’t forgive me because I pointed out to him that the same person -could not be head of his sect and Amir of Nalapur. He has had to adopt -the younger brother as his spiritual successor instead of the elder, -and he would like to pay me out; but the Moti-ul-Nissa does all she -can for us. That rascal Hasrat Ali leads her a life. Her children have -died one after the other, and the brute would divorce her if he dared. -The poor woman always sends to inquire after Missy when I am at -Nalapur, and I should like to send her to see her, but I daren’t. You -never know whose agents may be among the crowds of women in those big -zenanas, and I can’t run any risks with Missy. But think what it will -be when she grows up, if she cares enough for the poor creatures to do -what she can to help them!” - -“I shall think more of her if she does what she can to help you, sir,” -said Sir Dugald obstinately. “But I suppose this grudge of the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s means that there is no hope of a treaty with Nalapur -for the present?” - -“None, so far as I can see, which is a bore, just when our authorities -have been wrought up to the proper pitch. Pater will back me at the -right moment, and we can offer the Amir a handsome subsidy if he will -keep the passes open and let caravans pass freely, and allow us to -station a resident at his capital. Of course that means practically -that we guarantee his frontiers, but have power to move troops through -his territory in case of a land invasion; and the increased stability -it would give to his throne would make it well worth his while. The -Sheikh and I are trying to tire each other out; but I mean to have -that treaty if I live long enough, and the Moti-ul-Nissa will throw -her influence on my side. When one has served one’s apprenticeship one -begins to understand the ins and outs of these Asian mysteries.” - -“Talking of mysteries,” said Sir Dugald, “have you ever heard anything -more as to Ferrers’ fate after--the night you saw him?” - -General Keeling’s face changed. “Strangely enough, I have,” he said; -“but whether the story is true we shall probably never know for -certain. I had it from a Gamari Jew who came to me in secret, and was -divided between fear of his life if it ever became known what he had -done, and anxiety to wring the uttermost _pie_ out of me for his -information. I took down the account from his own lips, and have it -here.” He unlocked a drawer and took out a paper, glanced across at -the corner to make sure that Missy was engrossed in her own affairs, -and leaning towards Sir Dugald, began to read in a low voice:-- - -“‘I was in the city of Gamara a year ago, when there was much talk -concerning Firoz Khan, the Farangi chief of his Highness’s bodyguard, -who had disappeared. Some said he had been secretly slain, others that -he had been sent on a private errand by his Highness. One day there -was proclamation made throughout the city that two men were to be put -to death in the palace square,--one a Christian, the other one who had -embraced Islam and relapsed into his idolatry. Many desired to see the -sight, and among those that found standing-room in the square was I. -Now when the prisoners were led forth there was much astonishment -among the people, for one of them was Firoz Khan; and those that -looked upon him said that he bore the marks of torture. And the other -was an old man and bent, blind also, and walking with difficulty, who -they said had dwelt in the dungeons for many years. It was noticed -that no offer of life was made to these prisoners, nor were any -questions put to them; moreover, his Highness’s face was black towards -every one on whom his eye lighted. But the prisoners spoke to one -another in English,--which tongue I understand, having studied it in -India,--and the one said, “I am a Christian, and a Christian I die,” -and the other, kissing him upon the forehead, said, “George, we shall -meet in Paradise, in the presence of God,” and turning to the people -he cried, in a voice of extraordinary strength: “Tell the English that -this man, who for his life’s sake gave up Christ, now for Christ’s -sake gives up his life.” And when his voice was heard there fell a -terror on the people, for they said it was a young Farangi that had -long ago disappeared, whom they counted to be inspired of God, and -there arose murmurings, so that his Highness commanded the -executioners to do their duty at once; and the heads of the two men -were struck off with a great sword, and their bodies foully dealt -with, as is the wont in Gamara. I know no more concerning them.’” - -General Keeling ceased reading, and his eyes and Sir Dugald’s met. For -a moment neither spoke. - -“I suppose there can’t be much doubt that it’s true?” said Sir Dugald -at last. - -“None, I should say; but we can’t expect positive proof.” - -“It’s a curious thing,” said Sir Dugald, with some hesitation, “but -when I told my wife, on the voyage to the Cape, what you had told me -about Ferrers’ turning up again, she said at once that she believed -poor Ross was alive still. She meant to tell you herself--it didn’t -seem quite the sort of thing to write about--but when she was watching -beside Mrs Keeling the day she died, she saw her smile when they -thought she was insensible, and heard her say quite strongly, ‘They -are all there, my father and mother, and my little sister who -died--all waiting for me, but not Colin. Elma, where is Colin?’ My -wife said something--you know the sort of thing women would say in -answer to a thing of the kind--but when she thought it over, it -occurred to her that it must mean Ross was not dead. That again is no -proof, of course, but it’s curious.” - -“Very strange,” agreed General Keeling. “Haigh, the more I think of -it, the more I feel certain the Jew’s story was true. What conceivable -motive could the man have for inventing it? He didn’t know that I had -any particular interest in the poor fellows. Poor fellows! it’s -blasphemy to call them that. Colin was a true martyr, if ever man was, -and as for Ferrers----” - -“Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it,” supplied Sir -Dugald. - -“Nothing; but what a miracle it seems that he was able to seize the -chance! I sometimes ask myself whether I could have done what either -of them did--lived out those years of martyrdom like Colin, or gone -back to certain torture and death like Ferrers. We are poor creatures, -Haigh, the best of us, and those of whom we expect least sometimes -shame us by what they do. Well, they have seen the end of it now, I -suppose--‘in Paradise, in the presence of God.’ As for me,” he added -with a half-laugh, as he turned to lock up the paper again, “I’m -afraid I shouldn’t be happy, even in Paradise, if I couldn’t take a -look at the frontier now and then, and make sure it was getting on all -right. Why, Missy, what do you want?” - -The little girl had crept up to them as they talked, and was standing -with something clasped to her breast, looking in wonder at their moved -faces. As her father spoke, she held out shyly to Sir Dugald a large -octagonal tile, covered with a beautiful iridescent glaze, in a -peculiarly delicate shade of turquoise. “For Godmamma,” she said, and -retreated promptly. - -“Why, Missy, isn’t that the slab on which you mix your medicines?” -asked her father, capturing her. A nod was the only answer. “It’s one -of her greatest treasures,” he explained to Sir Dugald. “The men find -them sometimes in the ruined forts round here, but it’s very seldom -they come on one unbroken, and the man who found this one brought it -to her. You really want your Godmamma to have it, Missy?” Another nod. -“Well, Haigh, I wouldn’t burden you with it if I didn’t think Lady -Haigh would really like it. These things are thought a good deal of.” - -“Certainly I will take it to her,” answered Sir Dugald. “I am sure she -will like it because Missy sent it.” - -The response was unexpected, for Missy wriggled away from her father’s -arm, and held up her face to Sir Dugald to be kissed. - -“That ought to be gratifying,” said General Keeling, laughing. Both -men were perhaps not ungrateful to the child for diverting their -thoughts from the tragedy with which they had been busied. - -“Gratifying, sir? It’s better than millions of the brightest diamonds -to be kissed by Miss Georgia Keeling.” - -“As fond of Dickens as ever, I see. What should we do without him? But -you and Missy certainly ought to be friends, for she knew all about -Paul Dombey long ago. The doll your wife sent her is called Little -Paul, and drags out a harrowing existence of all kinds of diseases -complicated with gunshot-wounds, according to the cases Tarleton has -in hospital. Sometimes I am cheered by hearing that he ‘ought to pull -through,’ but generally he is following his namesake to an early -grave. But I see your things have come, and you will like to see your -quarters. This visit is a great pleasure, believe me, and I only wish -it was going to be longer.” - -There was no further word of regret, but Sir Dugald realised keenly -the disappointment that his friend was feeling. When they were -breakfasting together the next day, just before his departure, he -essayed a word of comfort. - -“If things get much worse, General, we shall have you fetched down -with the regiment to help in putting them right.” - -General Keeling’s eye kindled, but he shook his head. “No, Haigh, my -work lies up here. It would be too much to ride with the regiment -through a mob of those cowardly, pampered Bengalis--too much luck for -me, I mean. I have made out a list for Pater of the men I can afford -to send on by the next steamer, and I must stay and do their work. I’m -glad you will get your chance at last. John is a just man--like most -of us when our prejudices don’t stand in the way--and his -recommendations will be attended to. His is the show province, not -left out in the cold like poor Khemistan. I only wish you and all the -rest could have got your steps for the work you have done here; but at -least I can keep the frontier quiet while you have the chance of -getting them elsewhere.” - - - -He stood on the verandah a little later, tall and bronzed and -grey-headed, as Sir Dugald rode out at the gate. Beside him Missy, -raised high on the shoulder of Ismail Bakhsh, with one hand clenched -firmly in his beard, waved the other frantically in farewell. Reduced -in numbers, the Advanced-Guard held the frontier still. - - [The End] - - - - - FOOTNOTES. - - [1] - _Syads_ are descendants of the Khalif Ali by the daughter of Mohammed, - _Khojas_ his descendants by other wives. - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES. - -Sydney C. Grier was the pseudonym of Hilda Caroline Gregg. - -This book is part of the author’s “Modern East” series. The full -series, in order, being: - - The Flag of the Adventurer - Two Strong Men - The Advanced-Guard - His Excellency’s English Governess - Peace With Honour - The Warden of the Marches - -Alterations to the text: - -A few minor punctuation corrections--mostly involving the pairing of -quotation marks. - -Note: minor spelling and hyphenization inconsistencies have been left -as is. - -[Title Page] - -Add brief note indicating this novel’s position in the series. See -above. - -[Footnotes] - -Relabel the footnote marker, relocate to end of text, and add entry to -TOC. Note: the author has placed the shorter footnotes in square -brackets inline with the text. - -[Chapter XXI] - -“to be sweeping over it, Underfoot were the...” change comma to -period. - -[Chapter XXII] - -Change “I bid the _Mensahibs_ welcome in her name.” to _Memsahibs_. - -[Chapter XXIII] - -“it was necessary to _rid_ in single file” to _ride_. - -[End of Text] - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVANCED-GUARD *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Grier - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -/* Headers and Divisions */ - h1, h2, h3 {margin:2em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} - - div.tp {text-align:center;} /* title page */ - - .nobreak {page-break-before:avoid;} - - /* center a block of text */ - div.quote_o {font-size:95%; margin:0.5em 2em 0.5em 2em; text-align:center;} - div.quote_i {display:inline-block; text-align:left;} - -/* General */ - - body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} - - p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:2em;} - p.center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} - p.noindent {text-indent:0em;} - p.sign2 {margin:0em 2em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} - p.spacer {margin:0.5em 0em 0.5em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} - p.end {margin:1em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} - - p.toc_1 {font-variant:small-caps; text-align:left; text-indent:0em;} - - div.letter {margin:1em 0em 1em 3em;} - - span.font80 {font-size:80%;} - - span.sc {font-variant:small-caps;} - - span.chap_sub {font-size:80%;} - -/* play/poetry indented verses */ - p.i0 {margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i1 {margin:0em 0em 0em 3em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i2 {margin:0em 0em 0em 4em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i3 {margin:0em 0em 0em 5em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i4 {margin:0em 0em 0em 6em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i5 {margin:0em 0em 0em 7em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i6 {margin:0em 0em 0em 8em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i7 {margin:0em 0em 0em 9em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i8 {margin:0em 0em 0em 10em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i9 {margin:0em 0em 0em 11em; text-indent:-2em;} - p.i10 {margin:0em 0em 0em 12em; text-indent:-2em;} - - </style> -</head> - -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Advanced-Guard, by Sydney C. Grier</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Advanced-Guard</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Sydney C. Grier</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 22, 2021 [eBook #65895]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVANCED-GUARD ***</div> - -<div class="tp"> - -<h1> -The<br/> -Advanced-Guard -</h1> - - -BY<br/> -SYDNEY C. GRIER -<br/> -<span class="font80">AUTHOR OF ‘HIS EXCELLENCY’S ENGLISH GOVERNESS,’<br/> -‘THE WARDEN OF THE MARCHES,’<br/> -ETC., ETC.</span> - -<br/><br/> -(<i>Third in the Modern East series</i>) - -<br/><br/><br/><br/> -<i>SHILLING EDITION</i> - -<br/><br/> -WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS<br/> -EDINBURGH AND LONDON<br/> -MCMXII<br/> -<span class="font80"><i>All Rights reserved</i></span> -</div> - - - -<h2> -CONTENTS. -</h2> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch01">I. LADY HAIGH’S KIND INTENTIONS</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch02">II. THE AUTOCRAT</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch03">III. A BLANK SHEET</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch04">IV. UNSTABLE</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch05">V. COLIN AS AMBASSADOR</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch06">VI. MOUNTING IN HOT HASTE</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch07">VII. EYE-WITNESS</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch08">VIII. SEEING AND BELIEVING</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch09">IX. COUNSEL FOR THE PROSECUTION</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch10">X. ARRAIGNED</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch11">XI. JUSTIFIED</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch12">XII. WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch13">XIII. THE DIE IS CAST</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch14">XIV. INTO THE TERRIBLE LAND</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch15">XV. A LAND OF DARKNESS AND THE SHADOW OF DEATH</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch16">XVI. “ENGLAND’S FAR, AND HONOUR A NAME”</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch17">XVII. THE STRENGTH OF TEN</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch18">XVIII. THE ALLOTTED FIELD</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch19">XIX. A WOUNDED SPIRIT</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch20">XX. THE ISLE OF AVILION</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch21">XXI. FIRE AND SWORD</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch22">XXII. TAKEN BY SURPRISE</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch23">XXIII. PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch24">XXIV. RAHMAT-ULLAH</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch25">XXV. THE RIGHT PREVAILS</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch26">XXVI. “FOR THINE AND THEE”</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#ch27">XXVII. AFTER TOIL—TOIL STILL</a> -</p> - -<p class="toc_1"> -<a href="#fn">FOOTNOTES</a> -</p> - - -<h2> -THE ADVANCED-GUARD. -</h2> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> -CHAPTER I.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">LADY HAIGH’S KIND INTENTIONS.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Fifty</span> years ago the great port of Bab-us-Sahel was in its infancy. -The modern ranges of wharfs and breakwaters were represented by a -single half-finished pier, and vessels still discharged their -passengers and cargo a mile from shore, to the imminent peril of life -and property. The province of Khemistan had only recently come under -British rule, by an operation which was variously described as “the -most shameless piece of iniquity ever perpetrated,” and “the -inevitable working of the laws of right and justice”; and the -iron-willed, iron-handed old soldier who had perpetrated the iniquity -and superintended the working of the laws was determined to open up -the country from the river to the desert and beyond. His enemies were -numerous and loud-voiced and near at hand; his friends, with the -exception of his own subordinates, few and far away; but he had one -advantage more common in those days than these, a practically free -hand. Under “the execrable tyranny of a military despotism,” the -labour of pacification and the construction of public works went on -simultaneously, and although the Bombay papers shrieked themselves -hoarse in denouncing Sir Henry Lennox, and danced war-dances over his -presumably prostrate form, no one in Khemistan was a penny the -worse—a fact which did not tend to mollify the angry passions -concerned. -</p> - -<p> -The wand of the Eastern enchanter was not in the possession of the -nineteenth-century empire-builder, even though he might be the great -little man whom the natives called the Padishah, and (under their -breath) the Brother of Satan; and despite the efforts of a small army -of engineers, the growth of the new seaport was but slow. Yet, though -the native town was still obnoxious to sight and smell, and the broad -roads of the symmetrically planned cantonments were ankle-deep in dust -and sometimes knee-deep in sand, there was one improvement to which -General Lennox had been obliged to postpone even his beloved -harbour-works, and this was the seaside drive, where his little colony -of exiles might meet and condole with one another in the cooler hours -of the day. Every one rode or drove there morning and evening, -exchanging the latest local gossip on ordinary occasions, and news -from home on the rare mail-days. It was most unusual to see a man not -in uniform in the drive, for mufti was a word which had no place in -the General’s vocabulary; and it was even whispered that his -well-known detestation of civilians sprang from the fact that he could -not arbitrarily clap them into scarlet tunics. As for the ladies, -their skirts were of a generous amplitude, although the crinoline -proper had not yet made its appearance; but instead of the close -bonnets universal in fashionable Europe, they wore lace and muslin -caps, as their ancestresses had done since the first Englishwoman -stepped ashore in India. The more thrifty-minded guarded their -complexions with native umbrellas of painted calico; but there were -few who did not exhibit one of the miniature parasols, very long in -the handle and very small in the circumference, which were usual at -home. -</p> - -<p> -The one interest which all the promenaders had in common was the daily -recurring uncertainty whether General Lennox would take his ride late -or early. He never failed to put in an appearance and bestow paternal -greetings on his flock, who all knew him and each other, keeping a -vigilant eye open the while for any newly arrived subaltern who might -have broken his unwritten law; but when he was in good time he made a -kind of royal progress, saying a word or two to a man here and there, -and saluting each lady in turn with the noble courtesy which went out -with the last of the Peninsular heroes. He was specially early one -evening, able even to notice absentees, and he asked more than once -with some anxiety why Lady Haigh was not there—a question which -excited the wrathful contempt of ladies of higher official rank. Lady -Haigh was only a subaltern’s wife, in spite of her title; but she was -amusing, a quality which has its attractions for a grizzled warrior -burdened with many responsibilities. However, one lady was able to -tell him that Sir Dugald Haigh had only just come in with Major -Keeling from their trip up-country, and another added that she -believed a friend of Lady Haigh’s had arrived that morning by the -steamer,—there was only one steamer that plied between Bombay and -Bab-us-Sahel,—and the General was satisfied. Life and death were not -so widely separated in Bab-us-Sahel as in more favoured places; and it -happened not unfrequently that a man might be riding in the drive one -evening, and be carried to his grave the next. -</p> - -<p> -The Haighs’ house stood on the outskirts of the cantonments. It was a -small white-washed bungalow, remarkable for the extreme neatness of -its compound, and the pathetic attempts at gardening which were -evident wherever any shade might be hoped for. Very widely did it -differ from its nearest neighbour, a rambling, tumble-down cluster of -buildings inhabited by a riotous colony of bachelors, who were -popularly alleged to ride all day and drink all night. In view of the -amount of work exacted by Sir Henry Lennox from all his subordinates, -this was obviously an exaggeration; but the patch of unreclaimed -desert which surrounded Bachelors’ Hall, its broken fences, and the -jagged heaps of empty bottles here and there, distinguished it -sufficiently from the little domain where Sir Dugald and Lady Haigh -were conducting what their friends considered a very risky matrimonial -experiment. The festive young gentlemen next door lavished a good deal -of wonder and pity (as upon a harmless lunatic) upon Sir Dugald. That -a man who was hampered by a title and an unproductive Scotch estate -should let the latter and carry the former into the Indian army, where -it would array all his superiors against him as one man, instead of -remaining at home and using title and estate as a bait for an heiress, -was strange enough. But that he should proceed further to defy the -opinion of those in authority by bringing out a wife—and a plain -wife, without money and with a tongue (the bachelors had learnt -through an indiscreet lady friend that the bride had dubbed their -cheerful establishment “Beer and Skittles”)—seemed to show that he -must be absolutely mad. Lady Haigh’s relations, on the other hand, -regarded her marriage with trembling joy. Girls with aspirations after -higher education were fewer in those days than these, and perplexed -families did not know how to deal with them. By sheer hard fighting -Elma Wargrave had won leave to study at the newly founded Queen’s -College, but her family breathed a sigh of relief when, after less -than a year’s work, she announced that she was going to marry Sir -Dugald Haigh, whom she had met on a vacation visit. Whatever Elma -might take it into her head to do in the future, her husband and not -her parents would be responsible, and it would happen at a distance of -some thousands of miles. The baronetcy was an undeniable fact, and -there was no need to obtrude on people’s attention the other fact that -the bridegroom was merely a subaltern in the Company’s artillery. -Hence, when the wedding had safely taken place, the parents allowed -themselves to rejoice more and tremble less, only hoping that poor Sir -Dugald would not find he had undertaken more than he could manage. It -would have surprised them a good deal to learn that never until this -particular evening had the Haighs known even the semblance of a -serious disagreement. Lady Haigh had taken her young husband’s -measure, and adapted herself to it with a cleverness which was really -heroic in the case of a high-spirited, quick-tempered girl; and since -her arrival in Khemistan had been wont to assure herself that “after -the voyage, one could be angelic anywhere.” -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps she saw reason to repent of this hasty assurance just now, as -she sat facing her husband across a table littered with letters and -papers which had formed part of the mail brought that morning by the -steamer. Sir Dugald, a small fair man, with the colourless skin which -becomes parchment-like instead of red under the influence of an -Eastern sun, was still buttoned up in his uniform,—a fact of itself -not calculated to improve his temper,—and punctuated his remarks by -swinging one spurred heel rhythmically to and fro as he leaned back in -his chair. His wife had rushed out to welcome him and pour her story -into his ear in the same breath the moment that he dismounted after a -long and dusty march; and he could not but be conscious that her -muslin gown was tumbled and not of the freshest, her neck-ribbon awry, -and her ringlets in disorder. Those ringlets were in themselves a -cause for irritation. Elma Wargrave had worn her hair in severe bands -of unassuming hideousness, but soon after her marriage Elma Haigh had -horrified her husband by adopting ringlets, which were singularly -unbecoming to her pleasant, homely face, under the delusion that he -liked them. It cost Sir Dugald a good deal to refrain from proclaiming -his abhorrence of the change which had been made for his sake; but he -was a just man, and even at this moment of tension did his best not to -allow his mind to be prejudiced by the obnoxious curls. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely you must see,” he was saying with studied moderation, “that -you have placed me in a most unpleasant position? What if Ferrers -should call me out?” -</p> - -<p> -“I should like to see him do it!” was the uncompromising reply. “I -should just go and tell the General, and get him arrested.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald sighed patiently. “But look at it for a moment from -Ferrers’ point of view, Elma. He is engaged to this friend of yours, -Miss Andromache—what’s her name? Penelope?—and waiting for her to -come out. She comes out quite ready to marry him,—trousseau and -wedding-cake and all,—and you meet her at the steamer and tell her -such things about him that she breaks off the whole thing on the spot, -without so much as giving him a chance to clear himself.” -</p> - -<p> -“He drinks, he gambles, he is in the hands of the money-lenders,” said -Lady Haigh tersely. “Was she to marry him in ignorance?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t for a moment say it isn’t true. But if a man had done such a -thing he would have been called a brute and a low cad. I suppose a -woman can go and dash all a poor girl’s hopes, and separate her from -her lover, and still be considered a friend to her?” -</p> - -<p> -“But he wasn’t her lover, and it was her fears, not her hopes, that I -put an end to.” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Elma!” Sir Dugald’s eyebrows went up. -</p> - -<p> -“She didn’t love him,” persisted Lady Haigh. “Of course it sounds -horrid as you put it, but when you know the circumstances you will say -that I couldn’t possibly have let it go on. Penelope and Colin used to -know Captain Ferrers when they were children. He lived near them, and -their father was very kind to him, and used to get him out of scrapes -about once a-week. Ferrers was fond of the children, and they adored -him. When he went to India, Penelope can’t have been more than -fourteen, but he asked her if she would marry him when he came home. I -can’t imagine that he took it seriously, but she did; at any rate, she -felt bound by it. A romantic child of that age, with a brother as -romantic as herself to keep her up to it—of course she dreamed of him -continually. But he scarcely ever wrote to her father, and never to -her, and as she grew older she left off thinking about him. Then her -father died, and she went to live with her uncle in London while Colin -was at Addiscombe. That was when I used to meet her at the College. -Why, she never even told me she was engaged! Of course, I didn’t know -her very well, but well enough to have heard that. And since we came -out her uncle died, and her aunt and cousins didn’t want her. She’s -too handsome, you know. And Colin wanted her to come out with him—did -I tell you they were twins, and absolutely devoted?—but the aunt said -it wasn’t proper, until Colin remembered that old foolishness with -Ferrers, and at once—oh, it was the most delightful and suitable and -convenient plan that could possibly be devised! They had the grace not -to thrust her on Ferrers unprepared, but Colin wrote to him to say he -was bringing her out by the Overland, and poor Pen wrote to me—and -both letters were lost when the <i>Nuncomar</i> went down! It was only with -dreadful misgivings that Penelope had consented to the plan, and she -got more and more miserable when they found no letters at Alexandria -or Aden or Bombay. When they arrived here this morning, and still -there were no letters and no Ferrers, she made Colin come to me, -though he wanted to go and hunt up Ferrers, and I brought her up here -at once, and settled matters.” -</p> - -<p> -“And may I ask how you managed that?” -</p> - -<p> -“I told her the sort of reputation Ferrers bears here, and how, after -the way they were keeping it up next door last night, he could not -have been down at the steamer even if he had got the letter, and then -I sent to ask him to come and see me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Slightly high-handed. But go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“You needn’t pity him. I am sure in his heart he regards me as his -dearest friend. I never saw a man so horrified in my life as when I -told him that Miss Ross was here. He was positively relieved when I -said that from what Miss Ross had learnt of his circumstances, she was -sure he had no intention of claiming the promise she gave him in her -childhood, and she hoped they would meet as friends, nothing more. He -was really thankful, Dugald.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald allowed himself the luxury of a smile. “Possibly. But -surely the right thing would have been to help the poor wretch to pull -himself together, and reform him generally, and let her marry him and -keep him straight? That would have been a triumph.” -</p> - -<p> -“Let him reform first, and then get her to marry him if he can,” -snapped Lady Haigh. “Would you have let a sister of yours marry him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not if I could help it. But you will allow me to remark that a sister -of mine would have had a home open to her here, instead of being -thrown upon a brother as young as herself who knows nothing of the -place and its ways, and who is coming up-country with us next month.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, of course I offered her a home with us,” said Lady Haigh, with -outward calmness, but inward trepidation. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald’s eyebrows were slowly raised again. “You offered her a -home with us? Then of course there is no more to be said.” -</p> - -<p> -He drew his chair nearer the table, and from the mass of papers -selected a book-packet from the ends of which a familiar green wrapper -protruded. Opening the parcel carefully with the paper-knife, he threw -away the cover, and settled down with an anticipatory smile to enjoy -his monthly instalment of Dickens. But he had gone too far. Anger Lady -Haigh had expected, to his deliberate movements she was slowly growing -accustomed, but that smile was intolerable. She leaned across the -table, and snatched the serial from his hand. -</p> - -<p> -“Dugald, I will not have you so rude! Of course I want to talk things -over with you.” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Elma, what is there to talk over? In some miraculous way you -have overcome the Chief’s objections to ladies on the frontier, and -got leave to bring Miss Ross up with you. Anything that I could say -would only spoil your excellent arrangements.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I haven’t seen Major Keeling. How could I, when he only came back -with you? And I haven’t got his leave. I want you to do that.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Sir Dugald resolutely. “I had enough to do with getting -leave for you to come to Alibad, and I am not going to presume upon -it. The Chief will think I want to cry off.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then I’ll ask him myself,” recklessly. “I’m not in abject terror of -your great Major Keeling. He’s only a good man spoilt for want of a -wife.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh meant to be irritating, and she succeeded, for her husband -had told her over and over again that such a view was purely and -hopelessly feminine. Sir Dugald threw down the paper-knife with a -clatter, and drew back his chair as if to leave the room. -</p> - -<p> -“If I can’t get him to do it,” she pursued meditatively, “I’ll—let me -see——” -</p> - -<p> -“Appeal to Cæsar—otherwise the General, I suppose? That seems to be -your favourite plan.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh dear, no; certainly not. I shall make Penelope ask Major Keeling -herself.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now, Elma!” Sir Dugald detected something dangerous in the tone of -his wife’s remark. “That’s no good. Just let the Chief alone. He isn’t -the man to give in to anything of the kind.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh seemed impressed, though perhaps she was only thinking -deeply, and her husband, instead of resting on his prophetic laurels, -unwisely descended to argument. -</p> - -<p> -“He’s not a marrying man; and to go throwing your friend at his head -is merely lowering her in his eyes. He would see it in a moment.” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Dugald!”—Lady Haigh awoke from a brown study—“what -extraordinary things you are saying! I haven’t the slightest intention -of throwing Penelope at any one’s head. It’s really vulgar to suspect -every woman that comes near him of designs on Major Keeling.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then why do you want to take Miss Ross up with us?” -</p> - -<p> -“Because I am her only friend in India, of course. I wish you wouldn’t -put such thoughts into my head, Dugald,” plaintively. “Now if anything -should come to pass, I shall always feel that I have helped in -bringing it on, and I do hate match-making.” -</p> - -<p> -“But you said she was handsome,” objected the discomfited husband. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, and is Major Keeling the only unmarried man in the world? Why, -Captain Ferrers is coming up to Alibad too.” -</p> - -<p> -“So he is. By the bye, didn’t you say he hadn’t seen her since she was -a child? My word, Elma, he will have a crow to pluck with you when he -finds what you have robbed him of.” -</p> - -<p> -“I haven’t robbed him,” said Lady Haigh serenely. “I have only kept -him from taking an unfair advantage of Penelope’s inexperience. He may -win her yet. He shall have a fair field and no favour. He is coming -here to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, that’s your idea of a fair field, is it? No favour, certainly.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course I want them to meet under my eye, until I see whether there -is any hope of his reforming.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we shall be a nice little family party on the frontier.” -</p> - -<p> -“Shan’t we? Let me see, Major Keeling is going because he is the -heaven-sent leader, and you because you fought your guns so well at -Umarganj, and I because you got leave for me. Colin Ross is going -because his father was an old friend of Major Keeling’s, Ferrers -because the General begged Major Keeling to take him as the only -chance of keeping him out of mischief, and Penelope is going because I -am going to ask leave for her.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t you hope you may get it? Well, if you have no more thunderbolts -to launch, I’ll go and get into some cooler things.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch02"> -CHAPTER II.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">THE AUTOCRAT.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">There</span> was a little informal gathering at the Haighs’ that evening. -People often dropped in after dinner for some music, for Lady Haigh -had actually brought her piano (without which no self-respecting bride -then left her native land) up to Bab-us-Sahel with her. True, it had -been necessary to float it ashore in its case; but it was unanimously -agreed that its tone had not suffered in the very least. To-night -there was the additional attraction that Lady Haigh had staying with -her a handsome girl just out from home, who was understood, from the -report of the other passengers on the steamer, to play the guitar and -sing like an angel. Lady Haigh herself had no love for music whatever, -and in these days public opinion would have forbidden her to touch an -instrument; but she did her duty as hostess by rattling off one of the -dashing, crashing compositions of the day, and then thankfully left -her guest to bear the burden of the entertainment. The ring of eager -listeners that surrounded Penelope Ross, demanding one song after -another, made her feel that she was justified in so doing; and after -she had seen the obnoxious Captain Ferrers enter, and satisfied -herself that he perceived too late what a treasure he had lightly -thrown away, she slipped out on the verandah to think over the task -she had rashly set herself in her contest with her husband. How was -Major Keeling, who hated women, and had merely been induced to condone -Lady Haigh’s own existence because he had asked for Sir Dugald’s -services without knowing he was married, to be persuaded to allow -Penelope to accompany her to Alibad? -</p> - -<p> -“I know he is dining at Government House to-night,” she reflected -forlornly, “or I might have asked him to come in for some music. But -then he would have been just as likely to send a <i>chit</i> to say that he -disliked music. Men who hate women are such bears! And if I ask him to -dinner another night, he will see through it as soon as he finds -Penelope is here. And yet I must get things settled at once, or -Penelope will think she is unwelcome, and Colin will persuade her to -do something quixotic and detestable—marry Ferrers, or go out as a -governess, or—— Why, surely——” -</p> - -<p> -She ran to the edge of the verandah, and peered across the parched -compound to the road. Above the feeble hedge of milk-bush she could -see the head and shoulders of a horseman, of the very man with whom -her thoughts were busy. The shock of black hair and short full beard -made Major Keeling unmistakable at a time when beards were few, -although there was no “regulation” military cut or arrangement of the -hair. The fiercest-looking officer in Lady Haigh’s drawing-room at -this moment, whose heavy moustache and truculent whiskers gave him the -air of a swashbuckler, or at least of a member of Queen Cristina’s -Foreign Legion, was a blameless Engineer of strong Evangelical -principles. Lady Haigh saw at once the state of the case. The -gathering at Government House had broken up at the early hour exacted -by Lady Lennox, who was a vigilant guardian of her warrior’s health, -and Major Keeling was whiling away the time by a moonlight ride before -returning to his quarters. To summon one of the servants, and send him -flying to stop the Major Sahib and ask him to come and speak to Lady -Haigh, was the work of a moment; for though Major Keeling might be a -woman-hater, he had never yet rebelled against the sway which his -subordinate’s wife established as by right over all the men around -her, for their good. Lady Haigh disliked the idea of putting her -influence to the test in this way, for if Major Keeling refused to -yield there could be nothing but war between them in future; but the -matter was urgent. -</p> - -<p> -“You wanted to speak to me, Lady Haigh?” Major Keeling had dismounted, -and was coming up the steps, looking almost gigantic in the -picturesque full-dress uniform of the Khemistan Horse. -</p> - -<p> -“I want you to do a kindness,” she responded, rather breathlessly. -</p> - -<p> -“I know what that means. I am to break a rule, or relax an order, or -in some other way go against my better judgment.” -</p> - -<p> -“I—I want you to let me bring a friend of mine to Alibad with me.” -</p> - -<p> -Major Keeling’s brow darkened. “I knew this would come. You assured me -you could stand the isolation, but I knew better. Of course you want -female society; it is quite natural you should. But you professed to -understand that on the frontier you couldn’t have it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not society—just this one girl,” pleaded Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Who is she? a sister of yours or Haigh’s?” -</p> - -<p> -“No relation to either of us. She is Mr Ross’s sister—your old -friend’s daughter—an orphan, and all alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“Engaged to any one who is going with me?” -</p> - -<p> -“No—o.” The negative, doubtful at first, became definite. “I won’t -say a word about Ferrers, even to get him to let her come,” was Lady -Haigh’s resolute determination. -</p> - -<p> -“Then she can’t come.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Major Keeling! And if I had said she was engaged, you would have -said that the man would be always wasting his time dangling round -her.” -</p> - -<p> -“But as she isn’t, the whole force would waste their time dangling -round her,” was the crushing reply. “No, Lady Haigh, we have no use -for young ladies on the frontier. It will be work, not play.” -</p> - -<p> -“Play! Do you think a girl with that face wants to spend her life in -playing?” demanded Lady Haigh, very much in the tone with which she -had once been wont to crush her family. “Look there!” -</p> - -<p> -She drew him to the open window of the drawing-room and made him look -through the reed curtain. The light fell full on Penelope’s face as -she sang, and Lady Haigh felt that the beholder was impressed. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s that she’s singing?” he growled. “‘County Guy’? Scott? There’s -some good in her, at any rate.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh forbore to resent the slighting imputation, and Major -Keeling remained watching the singer through the curtain. Penelope’s -contemporaries considered her tall and queenly, though she would now -be thought decidedly under middle height. Her dark hair was dressed in -a graceful old fashion which had almost gone out before the combined -assault of bands and ringlets,—raised high on the head, divided in -front, and slightly waved on the temples,—a style which by rights -demanded an oval face and classical features as its complement. Judged -by this standard, Penelope might have been found wanting, for her -features were at once stronger and less regular than the classical -ideal; but the grey eyes beneath the broad low brow disarmed -criticism, they were so large and deep and calm, save when they were -lighted, as now, by the fire of the ballad she was singing. Those were -days when a white dress and coloured ribbons were considered the only -evening wear for a young girl; and Penelope wore a vivid scarlet sash, -with knots of scarlet catching up her airy white draperies, and a -scarlet flower in her hair. As Major Keeling stood looking at her, -Lady Haigh caught a murmur which at once astonished and delighted her. -</p> - -<p> -“That is a woman who would help a man—not drag him back.” Then, -apparently realising that he had spoken aloud, he added hastily, “Yes, -yes, as you say. But who’s the man with the unlucky face?” -</p> - -<p> -His finger indicated a tall thin youth who stood behind the singer. -The face was a remarkable one, thin and hawklike, with a high forehead -and closely compressed lips. The hair and small moustache were fair -and reddish in tint, the eyes grey, with a curious look of aloofness -instead of the keenness that would have seemed to accord with the rest -of the features. -</p> - -<p> -“That? Why, that’s Colin Ross, Penelope’s brother. What is there -unlucky about him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, nothing—merely a look. Her brother, do you say?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, her twin brother. But what look do you mean? Oh, you must tell -me, Major Keeling, or I shall tell Penelope that you say her brother -has an unlucky face.” -</p> - -<p> -“You will do nothing of the kind. Hush! don’t attract their attention. -I can’t explain it: I have seen it in several men—not many, -fortunately—and it has always meant an early and violent death.” -</p> - -<p> -“But this is pure superstition!” cried Lady Haigh. “And, after all, he -is a soldier.” -</p> - -<p> -“Call it superstition if you like: I only speak of what I know, and I -would not have spoken if you had not compelled me. And there are worse -deaths than a soldier’s. One of the men I speak of was poisoned, one -was murdered in Ethiopia, one was lost in the <i>Nuncomar</i>. That’s how -it goes. What sort of man is young Ross?” -</p> - -<p> -“Very serious, I believe,” answered Lady Haigh. The word still had its -cant meaning, which would now be expressed by “religious.” -</p> - -<p> -“So much the better for him. I can trust you to say nothing to his -sister about this?” -</p> - -<p> -“Now, is it likely? But the least you can do now is to let her come -with us. His twin sister! you couldn’t have the heart to separate them -when he may have such dreadful things before him?” -</p> - -<p> -“How would it be better if she were there?” he asked gloomily; but, as -if by a sudden impulse, parted the curtain and advanced into the room. -Penelope, her song ended, was toying with the knot of scarlet ribbons -attached to the guitar, while her hearers were trying to decide upon -the next song, when the group was divided by the abrupt entrance of a -huge man, as it seemed to her, in extraordinary clothes. It struck her -as remarkable that every man in the room seemed to stiffen into -attention at the moment, and she rose hesitatingly, wondering whether -this could possibly be Sir Henry Lennox. -</p> - -<p> -“Do me the honour to present me, Lady Haigh,” said the stranger, in a -deep voice which seemed to be subdued for the occasion. -</p> - -<p> -“Major Keeling, Miss Ross,” said Lady Haigh promptly. She was enjoying -herself. -</p> - -<p> -“I hear you wish to come up to Alibad with us,” said Major Keeling -abruptly. “Can you ride?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I am very fond of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t mean trotting along an English road. Can you ride on through -the sand hour after hour, so as to keep up with the column, and not -complain? Complaints would mean that you would go no farther.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can promise I won’t complain. If I feel I can’t stick on my horse -any longer, I will get some one to tie me into the saddle.” Penelope -smiled slightly. This catechism was not without its humorous side. -</p> - -<p> -“Can you cut down your baggage to regulation limits? Let me see, what -did I promise you, Lady Haigh? A camel? Well, half that. Can you do -with a camel between you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I think so.” Penelope was conscious of Lady Haigh’s face of agony. -</p> - -<p> -“You must, if you come. Can you do what you are told?” -</p> - -<p> -“I—I believe so. I generally do.” -</p> - -<p> -“If you get orders to leave Alibad in an hour, can you forsake -everything, and be ready for the march? That’s what I mean. If I find -it necessary to send you down, go you must. Can you make yourself -useful? Oh, I daresay you can do pretty things like most young ladies, -but can you put yourself at the surgeon’s disposal after a fight, and -be some good?” -</p> - -<p> -“I would try,” said Penelope humbly. It was before Miss Nightingale’s -days, and the suggestion sounded very strange to her. Major Keeling -stood looking at her, until his black brows relaxed suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“All right, you can come,” he said. “And,” he added, as he left the -room, “I’ll allow you a camel apiece after all.” -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -“What an interesting-looking man Major Keeling is!” said Penelope to -her friend the next morning. -</p> - -<p> -“Some people think so. I don’t particularly admire that kind of -swarthy picturesqueness myself,” was the meditative answer. “I won’t -praise him to her on any account,” said Lady Haigh to herself. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s not that so much as his look and his voice. Don’t you know——” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, you are as bad as the girls at Bombay. One of them told me they -all perfectly doated on dear Major Keeling; he was just like a dear -delightful bandit in an opera.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really, Elma!” Penelope’s graceful head was lifted with dignity, and -Lady Haigh, foreseeing a coolness, hastened to make amends. -</p> - -<p> -“I was only in fun. We don’t doat, do we, Pen? or gush, or anything of -that sort. But it was only the happiest chance his letting you come -with us. If he had caught you singing Tennyson, or your dear Miss -Barrett—Mrs Browning, is it? what does it signify?—there would have -been no hope for you. But it happened to be Scott, and that conquered -him at once. They say he knows all the poems by heart, and recites -them before a battle. Dugald heard him doing it at Umarganj, at any -rate. The troopers like it, because they think he is muttering spells -to discomfit the enemy. Isn’t it romantic?” -</p> - -<p> -“How funny!” was Penelope’s disappointing comment. -</p> - -<p> -“He was very fond of Byron once, but he has given him up for -conscience’ sake,” pursued Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“For conscience’ sake?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes; Byron was a man of immoral life, and his works are not fit for a -Christian’s reading.” -</p> - -<p> -“He must be a very good man, I suppose. I shouldn’t have guessed——” -</p> - -<p> -“That he was good? No; he might be mysteriously wicked, from his -looks, mightn’t he? But I believe he is really good, and he has the -most extraordinary influence over the natives. Dugald was telling me -last night that at Alibad they seemed inclined to receive him as a -saint—as if his reputation had gone before him, you know. He never -drinks anything but water, for one thing; and he doesn’t dance, and he -never speaks to a lady if he can help it—— Oh, Pen, were you very -much astonished by the catechism he put you through last night?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes,” admitted Penelope. “He asked me such strange things, and in -such a solemn voice. I should have liked time to think before -answering.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it was nothing to what he asked me. I had to promise never to -keep Dugald back—or even to try to—from anything he was ordered to -do. Wasn’t it barbarous? You see, in that fight at Umarganj Dugald had -got his guns up just in time to take part, and they decided the -battle. Major Keeling was so pleased that he said at once, ‘We must -have you at Alibad,’ and of course Dugald was delighted. But when the -Chief found out he was married he almost refused to take him, for he -had sworn he would have no ladies on the frontier. And there was I, -who had said over and over again that I would never stand between -Dugald and his chances! It really looked like a romantic suicide, -leaving pathetic letters to break the cruel Major’s heart, didn’t it? -But Sir Henry Lennox interceded for me, and I told Major Keeling I -would promise anything if he would only let us both go. And now I wake -up at night dreaming that the Chief has ordered Dugald to certain -death, and I mustn’t say a word, and I lie there sobbing, or shaking -with terror, until Dugald hears me, and asks me why I don’t control my -imagination. That’s what husbands are. What with keeping them in a -good temper when they are there, and missing them when they are away, -one has no peace. Don’t invest in one, Pen.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have no intention of doing it—at any rate at present. But, -Elma——” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course I mean it all depends on your getting the right man.” Lady -Haigh was uncomfortably conscious that she might one day wish to -explain away her last remark. “Only find him, and he shall have you -with my blessing. Pen, did you notice anything about Major Keeling’s -eyes? I mean”—she went on, talking quickly to cover her sudden -realisation that the transition must have appeared somewhat abrupt to -Penelope—“did he seem to be able to read your mind? The natives -believe that he can, and say that he can tell when a man is a spy -simply by looking at him. He seems to have funny ideas, too, about -being able to foretell a person’s fate from his face. He was very much -struck by—at least”—she blundered on, conscious that she was getting -deeper and deeper into the mire—“he said something last night about -Colin’s having a very remarkable face.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh dear, I hope he hasn’t second-sight! Colin has it sometimes, and -if two of them get together they’ll encourage one another in it,” said -Penelope wearily. “Colin is not quite sure about its being right, so -he never tries to use it, but sometimes—— Oh, Elma, I must tell you, -and I’m afraid you won’t like it at all. Colin was here before -breakfast, and talked to me a long time about George Ferrers. I think -they had been having a ride together.” -</p> - -<p> -“Colin ought to know better than to have anything to do with Ferrers. -He will get no good from him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Elma, he has always been so devoted to him, and George used to -seem quite different when he was with us. Colin is terribly grieved -about what you—I—did yesterday. He says it was very wrong to break -off the engagement altogether, that I was quite right not to marry -George at once, but that I ought to have put him on probation, giving -him every possible hope for the future.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think I see you putting Captain Ferrers on probation,” said Lady -Haigh grimly, recalling her brief interview with the gentleman in -question. “He would be the last person to stand it, however much he -might wish to marry you——” She broke off suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“But, Elma, he does,” said Penelope piteously, understanding the “But -he doesn’t” which her friend suppressed for the sake of her feelings. -“That’s the worst of it. He told Colin that he was so taken aback, and -felt himself so utterly unworthy, when you told him I was here, that -he felt the best thing for my happiness was to break off the -engagement at once. But when he came in in the evening, and saw us -both again, and heard the old songs, he felt he had thrown away his -only chance of doing better. Colin always seems to bring out the best -in him, you know, and——” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you know what happened as soon as he had said good night to you?” -asked Lady Haigh coldly. “He was beating one of his servants, who had -made a mistake about bringing his horse, so frightfully that Dugald -had to go and interfere. He said to me when he came back that it was a -comfort to think Ferrers would get a knife into him if he tried that -sort of thing on the frontier.” -</p> - -<p> -“But doesn’t that show what a terrible temper poor George has, and how -hard it must be for him to control it?” cried Penelope. “He says he -feels he should just go straight to the dogs if we took away all hope -from him. I know it’s very wrong of him to say it, but I dare not take -the responsibility, Elma. And Colin says he has always had such a very -strong feeling that in some way or other George’s eternal welfare was -bound up with him or me, or both of us, and so——” -</p> - -<p> -“Now I call that profane,” was the crushing reply. “Oh, I know Colin -would cheerfully sacrifice you or himself, or both of you, as you say, -for the sake of saving any one, and much more George Ferrers, but it -doesn’t lie with him. What if he sacrifices you and doesn’t save -Ferrers? But I know it’s no good talking. Colin will take his own -course in his own meek unbending way, and drag you after him. But I -won’t countenance it, at any rate. What has he got you to do?” -</p> - -<p> -“I know it’s my fault,” sobbed Penelope, “and I must seem dreadfully -ungrateful after all your kindness. I had been so miserable about -George’s silence, that when you told me about him yesterday I felt I -had known it all along, and that it was really a relief the blow had -fallen. And when you said he quite agreed that it was best to break -off the engagement, a weight seemed to be taken off my mind. Of course -I ought to have seen him myself—not shuffled off my responsibilities -on you, and found out what he really felt, so as to keep him from -sacrificing himself for me, and——” -</p> - -<p> -“Stuff and nonsense!” ejaculated Lady Haigh, very loudly and firmly. -“Penelope, will you kindly leave off reproaching yourself and me, and -tell me what the state of affairs is at present between you and George -Ferrers? You don’t care a rap for him; but because he says he can’t -take care of himself without a woman to help him, you are afraid to -tell him that he is a coward to try to thrust his burden off on you. -Are you engaged?” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” explained Penelope; “Colin did not wish that. It is only—only -if he keeps straight, as he calls it, at Alibad, we are to be engaged -again.” -</p> - -<p> -“And suppose you fall in love with some one else?” -</p> - -<p> -“Elma! how could I? We are practically engaged, of course.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all,” said Lady Haigh briskly. “You are under my charge, and I -refuse to recognise anything of the kind. Until you’re engaged again -Ferrers is no more to you than any of the other men, and I won’t have -him hanging about. Why”—reading a protest in Penelope’s face—“what -good would it be putting him on probation if he had all the privileges -of a <i>fiancé</i>? And nothing is to be said about it, Penelope. I simply -will not have it.” -</p> - -<p> -“I only want to do what is right,” said Penelope, subdued by her -friend’s authoritative tone. “As you say, it will be a truer test for -him if he does not come here often.” -</p> - -<p> -“Trust me to see to that. And Master Colin shall have a good piece of -my mind,” said Lady Haigh resolutely. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch03"> -CHAPTER III.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">A BLANK SHEET.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">A description</span> in detail of the journey from Bab-us-Sahel to the -frontier would be as wearisome to the reader as the journey itself was -to the travellers. Lady Haigh and Penelope learned to remain -resolutely in the saddle for hours after they had determined that -human nature could do no more than slip off helplessly on the sand, -and they discovered also how remarkably little in the way of luxuries -one camel could carry when it was already loaded with bedding and -camp-furniture. They found that there was not much to choose, so far -as comfort was concerned, between the acknowledged desert, diversified -by sand-storms and mirages, and the so-called forests, where trees -above and bushes below were alike as dry as tinder, and a spark -carelessly dropped might have meant death to the whole party. An -interlude in the shape of a river-voyage might have seemed to promise -better things, but the small flat-bottomed steamers were cramped and -hot, incredibly destitute of conveniences, and perversely given to -running aground in spots where they had to remain until a levy had -been made on the neighbouring population to drag them off. Scenery -there was none, save banks of mud, for the river ran high above the -level of the country through which it flowed; and it was with positive -relief that the travellers disembarked at a little mud settlement -embowered in date-palms, and prepared for a further ride. A fresh -trial was awaiting Lady Haigh here in the shape of a peremptory order -to Sir Dugald to push on at once to Alibad by forced marches, leaving -the ladies to follow quietly under the care of the regimental surgeon. -Major Keeling, with a portion of his regiment and the little band of -picked men he had gathered together to help him administer his -district, had preceded the Haighs’ party, travelling as fast as -possible; and now it seemed as if his restless energy had involved him -already in hostilities with the wild tribes. Lady Haigh turned very -white as she bade her husband farewell; but she made no attempt to -hold him back, and he rode away into the sand-clouds with his two or -three horsemen. She would have liked to follow him as fast as -possible; but Dr Tarleton, a dark taciturn man, remarkable for nothing -but an absolute devotion to Major Keeling, had his orders, and meant -to obey them. He had been told to conduct the ladies quietly to -Alibad, and quietly they should go, taking proper rest, and not -pushing on faster than his medical judgment allowed. The desert was -even drier, hotter, and less inhabited than that between Bab-us-Sahel -and the river, and to the travellers it seemed unending. Of course -they suffered torments from prickly heat, and became unrecognisable -through the attacks of mosquitoes; and Lady Haigh’s ringlets worried -her so much that nothing but the thought of her husband’s -disappointment restrained her from cutting them off altogether. As the -distance from Alibad became less, however, her spirits seemed to -revive, though this was not due to any special charm in the locality. -Even Penelope was astonished at the interest and vivacity with which -her friend contemplated and remarked upon a stretch of desert which -looked like nothing so much as a sea of shifting mud, with a small -group of mud-built huts clustering round a mud-built fort, like shoals -about a sandbank, and a range of mud-coloured hills rising above it on -the left. No trees, no water, no European buildings: decidedly Alibad, -sweltering in the glaring sun, did not look a promising abode. Sir -Dugald must be very delightful indeed if his presence could render -such a place even tolerable. And why had he not come to meet his wife? -</p> - -<p> -“Look there!” cried Lady Haigh suddenly. “What’s that?” -</p> - -<p> -She pointed with her whip to the desert on the right of the town. A -cloud of dust, followed by another somewhat smaller, seemed to be -leaving the neighbourhood of the fort and the huts at a tremendous -pace, crossing the route of the travellers at right angles. -</p> - -<p> -“I think it must be one man chasing another,” suggested Penelope, -whose eyes had by this time become accustomed to the huge dust-clouds -raised by even a single horseman. -</p> - -<p> -“Not quite, Miss Ross,” said Dr Tarleton, with a grim chuckle. “That’s -the Chief taking his constitutional, with his orderly trying to keep -up with him. There!”—as a patch of harder ground made a break in the -cloud of dust—“you can see him now. Look there, though! something is -wrong. He’s riding without any cap or helmet, and that means things -are very contrary indeed. It would kill any other man, but he can -stand it in these moods, though I got him to promise not to run such -risks. Look out!” -</p> - -<p> -He checked his horse sharply, for the two riders came thundering -across the path, evidently without seeing those who were so near -them—Major Keeling with his hair blowing out on the wind and his face -distorted with anger, the orderly urging his pony to its utmost speed -to keep up with the Commandant’s great black horse. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t be frightened. He’ll work it off in that way,” said the doctor -soothingly to his two charges. “When you see him next, he’ll be as -mild as milk, but it’s as well not to come in his way just now. Look, -Lady Haigh! isn’t that your husband coming?” -</p> - -<p> -It was indeed Sir Dugald who rode up, spick and span in a cool white -suit, but with a worried look about his eyes which did not fade for -some time. “You look rather subdued,” he remarked, when the first -greetings had been exchanged. “I am afraid Alibad isn’t all you -expected it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, it’s perfectly charming!” cried Lady Haigh hurriedly. “So—so -unique!” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald turned to Penelope. “I shall get the truth from you, Miss -Ross. Has Elma been horribly depressed?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all. In fact, I wondered what made her so cheerful.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, I thought so. Sort of place that there’s some credit in being -jolly in—eh, Mrs Mark Tapley? Whenever I find Elma in uproariously -good spirits, I know she is utterly miserable, and trying to spare my -feelings. Wish I had the gift of cheerfulness. The Chief has been -biting our heads off all round this morning.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, we saw him. What is the matter with him?” cried Lady Haigh and -Penelope together. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, it’s a good thing you ladies didn’t run across him just now. -You’ve defeated one of his most cherished schemes. He meant to blow up -the fort and use the materials for housebuilding, but he was kind -enough to remember that either tents or mud huts would be fairly -uncomfortable for you, so he spared the old place until we could get a -roof over our heads. But meanwhile the Government heard of his -intention, and forbade him to destroy such an interesting relic, so -the new canal has to make a big bend, and all his plans are thrown -out. And as if that wasn’t enough, in comes a <i>cossid</i> [messenger] -this morning with letters from Sir Henry, hinting that his differences -with the Government are so acute that he feels he’ll be forced to -resign, and then we are safe to have a wretched civilian over us. Of -course the Chief feels it, and we’ve felt it too.” -</p> - -<p> -“Poor Major Keeling! I feel quite guilty,” said Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, you needn’t. You’ll have a crow to pluck with him when I tell you -why he sent me that order to hurry on from the river. It was simply -and solely to test you—to see if you would keep your promise. If you -had protested and raised a storm, Tarleton had orders to pack you both -down-stream again immediately.” -</p> - -<p> -“Really! To lay traps for one in that way!” Indignation choked Lady -Haigh’s utterance, and she rode on in wrathful silence while her -husband pointed out to Penelope the line of the projected roads and -canals, now only indicated by rows of stakes, the young trees just -planted in sheltered spots, and carefully fenced in against goats and -firewood-seekers, and the rising walls or mere foundations of various -large buildings. Crossing an open space, dotted with the dark tents -and squabbling children of a wandering tribe of gipsy origin, they -rode in at the gateway of the fort, where the great doors hung idly -against the wall, unguarded even by a sentry. Sir Dugald helped the -ladies to dismount, and led them into the first of a range of lofty, -thick-walled rooms, freshly white-washed. -</p> - -<p> -“You’ll be in clover here,” he said. “The heat in the tents is like -nothing on earth. The Chief is a perfect salamander; but your brother, -Miss Ross, has been living under his table with a wet quilt over it, -and I have scooped out a burrow for myself in the ground under my -tent. Porter” (the Engineer officer already mentioned) “makes his boy -pour water over him every night when he goes to bed, so as to get an -hour or so of coolness. By the bye, Elma, the Chief and Ross and -Tarleton are coming to dine with us to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -“Dugald!” cried Lady Haigh, in justifiable indignation. “That man will -be the death of me! To dine, when there is no time to get any food, -and the servants haven’t come up, and there isn’t any furniture!” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, perhaps I ought to say that we are to dine with him up here. He -provides the food, and we are to have it in the durbar-room over -there. It’s a sort of festivity to celebrate your coming up. He really -means it well, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh was perceptibly mollified, but she took time to thaw. -</p> - -<p> -“It is a pretty idea of Major Keeling’s,” she said, in a less chilly -tone. “At least, if—— Dugald, tell me: he hasn’t asked Ferrers?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why should he? And he couldn’t, in any case. Ferrers is in charge of -our outpost at Shah Nawaz, miles away.” -</p> - -<p> -“And Major Keeling knows nothing—about Penelope?” -</p> - -<p> -“How could he? I haven’t told him, and I shouldn’t imagine Ferrers -has. Besides, I thought there was nothing to tell? But there are -complications ahead. If the General goes home we are bound to have -Ferrers’ uncle, old Crayne, sent to Bab-us-Sahel, and then I don’t -think his aspiring nephew will stay long up here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, Penelope shan’t go down with him. Did you call me, Pen?” and -Lady Haigh rose from the box on which she and her husband had seated -themselves to enjoy a brief <i>tête-à-tête</i>, and hurried after -Penelope, who was exploring the new domain. -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -However troubled Major Keeling’s mind may have been when he started on -his ride, he seemed to have left all care behind him when he appeared -in Lady Haigh’s dining-room—as he insisted on calling it, although he -himself was responsible for both the dinner and the furniture. He laid -himself out to be amiable with such success that Sir Dugald averred -afterwards he had sat trembling through the whole meal, feeling -certain that the Chief could not keep it up, and dreading some fearful -explosion. The ladies and Colin Ross, who were less accustomed to meet -the guest officially, saw nothing remarkable in his courteous -cheerfulness; and though Penelope’s heart warmed towards the man who -could so completely lay aside his own worries for the sake of his -friends, Lady Haigh, whose mind had recurred to her wrongs, could -barely bring herself to be civil to him. He turned upon her at last. -</p> - -<p> -“Lady Haigh, I am in disgrace; I know it. I have felt a chill of -disapproval radiating from you the whole time I have been sitting -beside you. What have I done? Ah, I know! Haigh has let the cat out of -the bag. How dare you betray official secrets, sir? Well, Lady Haigh, -am I never to be forgiven?” -</p> - -<p> -“I could forgive your sending for my husband,” said Lady Haigh, with -dignity, “especially as there was no danger; but to doubt my word, -after I had promised——” -</p> - -<p> -“I had no doubt whatever of your intention of keeping your word. What -I was not quite sure about was your power. I expect heroism from you -two ladies as a matter of course. Every British commander has a right -to expect it from Englishwomen, hasn’t he? But I want something -more,—I want common-sense. I want you, when your husband, Lady Haigh, -and your brother, Miss Ross, and the rest of us, are all away on an -expedition, and perhaps there’s not a man in the station but Tarleton, -to go on just as usual—to sew and read, and go out for your rides as -if you hadn’t the faintest anxiety to trouble you. While we are away -doing the work, you’ll have to represent us here, and impress the -natives.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why didn’t you tell us that you only wanted people without any -natural feelings?” demanded Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“I did, didn’t I? You seemed to think so when I gave you leave to come -up. At any rate, if you bring natural feelings up here, you must be -able to control them. Whatever the trouble is, you must keep up before -the natives, or our friends will be discouraged, and our enemies -emboldened. Did you think I could allow the greatest chance that has -ever come to this district to be jeopardised for the sake of natural -feelings?” He emphasised the words with an almost savage sneer. “Think -what our position is here. Alibad is an outpost of British India, not -merely of Khemistan; we are the advanced-guard of civilisation—not a -European beyond until you come to the Scythian frontier. We hold one -of the keys of India; any enemy attacking from this side must pass -over our bodies. And how do we expect to maintain the position? Not by -virtue of stone walls. When I came up here first I found a wretched -garrison shut in—locked in—in this very fort, with the tribes -plundering up to the gates. I turned them out, and gave orders that -the gates were never to be fastened again. Out on the open plain we -are and we shall be, if we have to sleep in our boots to the end of -our lives. Peace and security for the ryot, endless harrying for the -raider until he gives up his evil ways. There shall not be a spot on -this border where the ruffians shall be able to pause for a sip of -water without looking to see if the Khemistan Horse are behind them, -and before long their own people will give them up when they go back -to their tribes. Teach the whole country that we have come to stay, -that it pays better to be on our side than against us—there is the -beginning.” -</p> - -<p> -“And then?” asked Penelope breathlessly. -</p> - -<p> -“And then—you know the old saying in Eastern Europe, ‘The grass never -grows where the Turk’s hoof has trod’? Here it shall be, ‘Where the -Englishman’s hoof has trod, the grass grows doubly green.’ Down by the -river they called all this part Yagistan, you know—the country of the -wild men,” he explained for Penelope’s benefit, “but now the name has -retreated over the frontier. That’s not enough, though. We have the -district before us like a blank sheet—a sea of sand, without -cultivation or trade, and precious little of either to hope for from -the inhabitants. What is our business? To cover that blank sheet. -Canals, then cultivation; roads, then travel; fairs, then trade. The -thing will be an object-lesson all the way into Central Asia. Only -give me the time, and it shall be done. I have the men and the free -hand, and——” He broke off suddenly, and laughed with some -embarrassment. “No wonder you are all looking at me as if you thought -me mad,” he said; “I seem to have been forcing my personal aspirations -on you in the most unwarranted way. But as I have burdened you with -such a rodomontade, I can’t well do less than ask whether any one has -any suggestions that would help in making it a reality.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have,” said Lady Haigh promptly. “If you want the natives to think -we mean to stay here, Major Keeling, we ought to have a club, and -public gardens.” -</p> - -<p> -“So we ought, and it struck me only to-day that this old fort might -serve as a club-house when your house is built, Lady Haigh, and you -turn out of it. I won’t have it used for anything remotely connected -with defence or administration, but to turn it over to the station as -a place of amusement ought to produce an excellent effect. But as to -the gardens——” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, that space in front!” cried Lady Haigh. “Turn those gipsies off, -and you have the very place, with the club on this side, and the -church and your new house and all the government buildings opposite.” -</p> - -<p> -“Excellent!” said Major Keeling. “The gipsies have already had notice -to quit, and a new camping-ground appointed them, but I meant to use -the space for godowns until my plans were thrown out. Really I begin -to think I made a mistake in not welcoming ladies up here. Their -advice seems likely to be distinctly useful.” -</p> - -<p> -“What an admission!” said Lady Haigh, with exaggerated gratitude. “But -don’t be deceived by Major Keeling’s flattery, Pen. Very soon you’ll -find that he has set a trap to see whether you have any natural -feelings.” -</p> - -<p> -“How could I subject another lady to such a test when you have -objected so strongly, pray? Miss Ross need fear nothing at my hands.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I call that most unfair. Come, Pen. Why!”—Lady Haigh broke off -with a little laugh—“we have no drawing-room in which to give you -gentlemen tea.” -</p> - -<p> -“Have you visited the ramparts yet?” asked Major Keeling. “You will -find them a pleasant place in the evenings, and even in the daytime -there will sometimes be shade and a breeze there. I had one of the -tower staircases cleaned and made safe for your benefit, and if you -will honour me by considering the ramparts as your drawing-room this -evening, the servants shall bring the tea there.” -</p> - -<p> -The suggestion was gladly accepted, and a move was made at once. The -rampart, when reached, proved to afford a pleasant promenade, and the -diners separated naturally into couples. Lady Haigh had much to say to -her husband, while the doctor and Colin Ross gravitated together, -rather by the wish of the older man than the younger, it appeared, and -Penelope found herself in Major Keeling’s charge. They stood beside -the parapet after a time, and he pointed out to her the watchfires of -the camp below, the stretch of desert beyond, white in the moonlight, -and beyond that again the distant hills, the portals of unexplored -Central Asia. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you hear anything?” he asked her suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -She strained her ears, but beyond the faint sounds of the camp, the -stamping of an impatient horse, the clink of a bridle, or the clank of -a sentry’s weapon, she could hear nothing. -</p> - -<p> -“I knew it,” he said. “It is only fancy, but I wondered whether this -night-stillness would affect you as it does me. You know what it is to -stand alone at night and look into the darkness, and listen to the -silence? Whenever I do that on this frontier I hear -footsteps—hurrying steps, the steps of a multitude, passing on and on -for ever. I pray God I may never hear them turn aside and come this -way!” -</p> - -<p> -“Why?” asked Penelope, awed by his tone. -</p> - -<p> -“Because they are the footsteps of the wild tribes of Central Asia, -whose fathers poured down through these passes to the conquest of -India. They wander from place to place, owning no master, obeying -their chiefs when it suits them, always ready for plunder and rapine. -And to the south, spread out before them, is the wealth of the -idolater and the Kaffir. Of course, it would take something to move -them—a cattle-plague, perhaps, leading to famine—and a leader to -unite them sufficiently to utilise their vast numbers to advantage; -but who is to know what is going on beyond those hills? There are men -who have gone there and returned—that splendid young fellow Whybrow -is there now—but they see only what they are allowed to see. I tell -you, sometimes at night the thought of those wandering millions comes -upon me with such force that I cannot rest. I get up and ride—ride -along the border, even across it into Nalapur, to make sure that the -tribes are not at our very doors.” -</p> - -<p> -“You ride alone at night? But that must be very dangerous!” -</p> - -<p> -“Dangerous? If I was afraid of danger, I should not be here.” -</p> - -<p> -“But your life is so valuable. Has no one begged you to be prudent?” -</p> - -<p> -“My officers used to preach to me, but I have broken them of it—all -but the doctor. Poor Tarleton! he is a very faithful fellow. But will -you think me quite mad, Miss Ross, if I tell you that there is another -sound as well? It is as if the warder of a fortress should listen -across a valley, and hear the tread of the sentry on the ramparts of a -hostile fortress opposite. And the tread comes nearer.” -</p> - -<p> -“Major Keeling, you frighten me. Who—what do you mean?” -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. “Oh, the tread is a good thousand miles away yet. But it -is coming nearer, all the same. Nominally it is stopped by the Araxes, -but it is already pressing on to the Jaxartes. The Khanates will be -absorbed, and then—will the two warders meet face to face then, I -wonder? It may not be in my day, or even yours, but it will come.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean Scythia? But is she advancing? Why——?” -</p> - -<p> -“Is it for me to say? She explains it as the trend of her manifest -destiny; we say it is her hunger for territory. But she advances, and -we remain stationary, or worse, advance and retreat again. But retreat -from this point we will not while the breath of life is in me,” he -cried passionately; “and when I die, I mean to be buried here, if -there is any burial for me at all, that at least the bones of an -Englishman may hold the frontier for England.” -</p> - -<p> -“But,” hesitated Penelope, “if we don’t want to advance, why shouldn’t -she?—up to our frontier, I mean, not beyond.” -</p> - -<p> -“Because she wouldn’t stop there. How could she, after sweeping over -all the barren worthless regions, pause when a rich fertile country -lay before her? I couldn’t myself. Otherwise, one would say that at -any rate her rule could not be worse than the present state of things. -There are plague-spots in Central Asia, like Gamara, which ought to be -swept from the face of the earth. But we ought to do it, not they. -It’s our men who have been done to death there—not spies, but -regularly accredited representatives of the Government—and we don’t -stir a finger to avenge them. Whybrow takes his life in his hand when -he enters Central Asia, and so will any man who follows him.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why don’t we do anything?” asked Penelope, wondering at his -impassioned tone, and little dreaming of the sinister influence which -the wicked city of Gamara was to exercise over her own life. -</p> - -<p> -“Because we are too lazy, too meek, too much afraid of -responsibility—anything! Old Harry—I beg your pardon—Sir Henry -Lennox would do it. I heard him say so once to the troops at a -review—that he would like nothing better than to conquer Central Asia -at their head, plundering all the way to Gamara. He got pulled up for -it, of course. He isn’t exempt from official recognition of that kind -any more than meaner people, though I really think I am particularly -unfortunate. Just now I am in trouble with Church as well as State. I -was so ill-advised as to write to a bishop about sending missionaries -here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I am so glad!” said Penelope. “Colin—my brother—is so -disappointed that you haven’t asked for any.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, but wait. I want to pick the men. To let the wrong man loose up -here would be to destroy all my hopes for the frontier. There’s a -fellow at the Cape named Livingstone—the man who made a long -waggon-journey a year or two ago to look for some great lake the -natives talked of, but found nothing, and means to try again—if I -could get him I should be happy. He’s a doctor—physics the people as -well as preaches to them, you see, and that’s the kind of Christianity -that appeals to untutored savages like his flock and mine. Well, I -asked the bishop if he could send us up a man like that, and his -chaplain answered that I was evidently not aware that the Church’s -care was for men’s souls, not their bodies. I wrote back that the -Church must be very different from her Master if that was the case; -and the answer came that in consequence of the unbecoming tone of my -last communication, his lordship must decline any further -correspondence with me. But that’s nothing. When I have fought for -months to bring some exploit of the regiment’s to the notice of the -authorities, and got an official commendation at last, I have had to -insert in regimental orders a scathing rebuke of the insubordinate and -unsuitable letters from me which had extorted it. But why am I telling -you all this? It must have bored you horribly.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no!” cried Penelope. “I have been so much interested. And even if -not, I am so glad to listen, if it is any help to you——” -</p> - -<p> -“Help?” he asked sharply. “Why on earth should it be a help?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know,” answered Penelope, with some surprise. “I only -thought—perhaps you don’t care to talk things over with your -officers—it might be a relief to say what you think sometimes——” -</p> - -<p> -“I believe that’s it,” he answered; “and therefore I pour out the -bottled-up nonsense of years on your devoted head, without any thought -of your feelings. You should have checked me, Miss Ross. I ought to -have been asking you if you adored dancing, or what the latest fashion -in albums was, instead of keeping you standing while I discoursed on -things as they are and should not be. Another time you must pull me up -short.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch04"> -CHAPTER IV.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">UNSTABLE.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Captain Ferrers</span> was jogging gloomily across the desert from Fort -Shah Nawaz to Alibad, and his face was only the index to his thoughts. -At the moment he did not know whether he hated more the outpost of -which he was in command or the errand that was taking him to Alibad, -and as he rode he cursed his luck. There was no denying that -everything seemed to go wrong with him. Harassed by debts and awkward -acquaintances at Bab-us-Sahel, he had acquiesced with something like -relief in Sir Henry Lennox’s suggestion, which was practically a -command, that he should sever himself altogether from his old -associates by taking service on the frontier. But, knowing as he did -that he was sent there partly as a punishment and partly in hope of -saving him for better things, he felt it quite unnecessary to -conciliate his gaoler, as he persisted in considering Major Keeling. -The two men were conscious of that strong mutual antipathy which -sometimes exists without any obvious or even imagined reason, and -Major Keeling was not sorry when Ferrers showed an inclination to -claim the command at Shah Nawaz as his right. It was not an ideal post -for a man who needed chiefly to be saved from himself; but Ferrers was -senior to all the other men save Porter the Engineer, who could not be -spared from the head station. Therefore Ferrers had his desire, and -loathed it continuously from the day he obtained it. The place was no -fort in reality, merely a cluster of mud-brick buildings, standing -round a courtyard in which the live stock of the garrison was gathered -for safety at night, and possessing a gateway which could be blocked -up with thorn-bushes. On every side of it spread the desert, with some -signs of cultivation towards the south, and in the north the dark -hills which guarded the Akrab Pass, the door into Central Asia. To -Ferrers and his detachment fell the carrying out in this neighbourhood -of the policy outlined by Major Keeling in his conversation at the -dinner-table—the protection of the peaceable inhabitants of the -district, and the incessant harrying of all disturbers of the peace, -whether from the British or the Nalapuri side of the frontier. At -first the life was fairly exciting, though Ferrers’ one big fight was -spoilt by the necessity of sending to Alibad for reinforcements; but -now that things were settling down, it was irksome in the extreme to -patrol the country unceasingly without ever catching sight of an -enemy. Ferrers panted against the quietness which Major Keeling’s -rigorous rule was already establishing on both sides of the border. He -would have preferred the system prevailing in the neighbouring -province, where a raid on the part of the tribes was answered by a -British counter-raid, when villages were burnt, crops destroyed, and -women and children dismissed homeless to the hills, the troops -retiring again immediately to their base of operations until the -tribes had recovered strength sufficiently for the whole thing to be -gone through again. It was a poor thing to nip raids in the bud, or -arrest them when they were only just begun: a big raid, followed by -big reprisals, was the sort of thing that lent zest to frontier-life -and stimulated promotion. However, Major Keeling’s whole soul was set -against thrilling experiences of this kind, and Ferrers was forced to -submit. But his love of fighting was as strong as ever, and had led to -the very awkward and unfortunate incident which he was now to do his -best to explain at Alibad, whither he had been called by a peremptory -summons. -</p> - -<p> -The root, occasion, or opportunity of all crime on the border at this -time was the practice of carrying arms, which had grown up among the -inhabitants during many years of oppression from above and incursions -from without. Now that protection was assured them, the custom was -unnecessary and dangerous, and any man appearing with weapons was -liable to have them confiscated—the people grumbling, but submitting. -Hence, when word was brought to Ferrers that a company of armed men -had been seen traversing the lands of one of the villages in his -charge, it was natural to conclude that they were raiders from beyond -the border, who had escaped the vigilance of the patrols, and hoped to -harry the countryside. Ferrers at once started in pursuit, and the -armed men, their weapons laid aside, were discovered in the village -cornfields, busily engaged in gathering in the crop. The impudence -displayed fired Ferrers, and he ordered his men to charge. His -<i>daffadar</i>, a veteran soldier, ventured to advise delay and a parley, -but he refused to listen. He meant to make an example of this party of -robbers, not to offer them terms, and a moment later his troopers were -riding down the startled reapers. These made no attempt to resist, -though they filled the air with protests, and before the troop could -wheel and ride through them again, a voice reached Ferrers’ ear which -turned him sick with horror. -</p> - -<p> -“Sahib! sahib!” it cried, “we are the Sarkar’s poor ryots! Why do you -kill us?” -</p> - -<p> -This time the parley was granted, and Ferrers learned too late that -the men he had attacked were the inhabitants of the village to which -the field belonged, that they had brought their weapons with them -owing to a warning that the people of another village intended to -attack them and carry off their harvest, and that the second village -had revenged itself for its disappointment by sending Ferrers the -information which had led him wrong. There was nothing to be done but -to rebuke the village elders severely for not warning him of the -intended attack instead of taking the law into their own hands, -assuage the sufferings of the wounded by distributing among them all -the money he had about him, and return drearily to Shah Nawaz to draw -up a report of the occurrence. It was his luck all over, he told -himself, ignoring the reminder that he had not attempted to avert the -fight—in fact, that he had hurried it on for the mere sake of -fighting. It was all the fault of the life at this wretched outpost, -where there was nothing a man could do but fight, and that was -forbidden him. It was little comfort to remember that Major Keeling, -in his place, would have found the day all too short for the -innumerable things to be done. He would have been in the saddle from -morning till night, visiting the villages, holding impromptu courts of -justice, looking for traces of old irrigation-works or planning new -ones, and filling up any odds and ends of time by instituting -shooting-competitions among his troopers, or making experiments in -gardening. Ferrers was a very different man from his Commandant, -though he could be brave enough when there was fighting to be done, -and owed his captaincy to his gallantry on a hard-won field. Without -the stimulus of excitement he was prone to fits of indolence, when the -monotonous round of daily duty was intolerably irksome; and he was -further handicapped by the fact that whereas the change to the -frontier had been intended to cut him off from his old life, he had, -unknown to the older men who were trying to direct his course anew, -succeeded in bringing a portion of his past with him. -</p> - -<p> -The fashion among the young officers at Bab-us-Sahel at this time -might be said to run in the direction of slumming. The example had -been set a year or two before by a young man of brilliant talents and -unscrupulous audacity, whose delight it was to escape from -civilisation and live among the natives as one of themselves. This man -was the despair of his seniors, but in the course of his escapades he -contrived to pick up much curious and some useful information. To -follow in his footsteps meant to defy the authorities now and possibly -gain credit later, and this was sufficiently good reason for doing so. -In the case of men of less brilliance or less audacity the natural -result was merely to lead them into places they had much better have -shunned, and acquaint them with persons whom it would have been wiser -not to know. Ferrers was one of those who had followed the pioneer’s -example without gaining the slightest advantage, and he knew this; so -that when the chance of freeing himself came to him, he was almost -ready to welcome it. Almost, but not quite. It so happened that a rule -had lately been introduced requiring a literary knowledge of the local -language from officers employed in the province. Major Keeling, while -remarking to Ferrers, with his usual contempt for the actions of his -official superiors, that in his opinion a colloquial acquaintance with -it was all that was really needed, advised him to take a munshi with -him to Shah Nawaz, and employ his leisure there in study. No sooner -had the advice been given than the munshi presented himself in the -person of one of Ferrers’ disreputable associates, the Mirza -Fazl-ul-Hacq. Originally a Mohammedan religious teacher, this man was -in some way under a cloud, and was regarded by his co-religionists -much as an unfrocked clergyman would be in England. This fact was in -itself an attraction to Ferrers and the young men of his stamp, to -whom there was an actual delight in finding that one who ought to be -holy had gone wrong, and the Mirza professed a strong attachment to -him in return. Now he begged to be allowed to accompany him to the -frontier as his munshi, asserting, with perfect truth, that he was -well acquainted with all the dialects in use there. Ferrers, who had -begun to look back regretfully at the pleasures from which he was to -be torn, closed with the offer, and the Mirza was duly enrolled in his -retinue. The two were closeted together in all Ferrers’ hours of -leisure at Shah Nawaz, but remarkably little study was accomplished. -The Mirza was an adept at various games of chance, he brewed delicious -sherbets (not without the assistance of beverages forbidden by his -religion), and he was a fascinating story-teller. Thoroughly worthless -as Ferrers knew him to be, the man had made himself necessary to him, -and he half hated, half condoned, the fact. When a fellow led such a -dog’s life, how could he refuse any chance of congenial companionship -that offered itself? -</p> - -<p> -It might have been objected that Ferrers was within riding distance of -Alibad, and that there was no law cutting him off from his friends -there; but since Colin and Penelope Ross had come up-country he had -avoided the place as if it were plague-stricken. Lady Haigh had been -quite right in her interpretation of his feelings, and though he had -succeeded in winning over Colin to plead his cause with Penelope, he -now wondered gloomily why he could not have let well alone. He was -always acting on impulse, he told himself, in a way that his cooler -judgment disapproved, and it did not occur to him that he had to thank -the Mirza’s influence over him for this fresh change. In fact, he was -not conscious of it, for the subject was never mentioned between them; -but in the Mirza’s society he felt no desire for that of his old -friends. He had a real fondness for Colin, the one man of his -acquaintance who believed in him, though he found it terribly -fatiguing to keep up in his company the pretence of being so much -better than he was. Colin had no idea of his real tastes and pursuits, -and, curious though it may seem, Ferrers was prepared to take a good -deal of trouble to prevent his becoming aware of them. The thought -that Colin’s eyes would never rest upon him in kindness again was -intolerable; and if Colin alone had been concerned, his mind would -have been at ease. But if he married Penelope, he must either give up -the Mirza, or she must know, and therefore Colin would know, a good -many things he would prefer to keep secret—and what counterbalancing -advantage would there be? Though he had felt his interest in her -revive when he saw her admired and courted, she was not the type of -woman who could keep him in thrall: she would suffer in silence, and -look at him reproachfully with eyes that were like Colin’s, and there -would be little pleasure in that. -</p> - -<p> -At this point Ferrers’ meditations were suddenly interrupted. Intent -upon his mental problem, it was with a shock that he found himself -confronted by a trooper of the Khemistan Horse. He tried to discover -what emergency could have dictated the posting of vedettes at this -distance from the town, but learned only that it was the Doctor -Sahib’s order. Wondering vaguely whether there was plague in the -district, and the doctor was establishing a sanitary cordon, he rode -on, to see more vedettes in the distance, and to be sharply challenged -by a sentry as he entered the town. The squalid streets seemed wholly -destitute of the military element which usually gave them brightness; -but in the courtyard of the mud building which served as a hospital Dr -Tarleton was hard at work drilling a motley band of convalescents and -hospital assistants, with a stiffening of dismounted troopers, who -appeared to be bored to extinction by the proceedings. -</p> - -<p> -“What’s up, Tarleton?” cried Ferrers, after watching in bewilderment -the strange evolutions of the corps and their instructor’s energetic -endeavours to get them straight. -</p> - -<p> -Hearing the voice, Dr Tarleton turned round and hurried to the wall, -wiping his face as he came. “Oh, the Chief and all the rest are away, -and I’m in charge. Nothing like being prepared for the worst, you -know. This is my volunteer force—the Alibad Fencibles. I say, tell me -the right word, there’s a good fellow! I’ve got ’em all massed in that -corner, and I can’t get ’em out without going back to the beginning.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers whispered two or three words into the doctor’s ear, watched -him write them down, and rode on towards the fort, taking some comfort -in the thought that his unpleasant interview with Major Keeling must -necessarily be postponed. It was clear that it was his duty to pay his -respects to the ladies, and by good luck it was just calling-time. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh and Penelope had now been two or three months at Alibad, -and the heat and burning winds of the shadeless desert were leaving -their mark upon them. Both had lost their colour, and even Lady Haigh -moved languidly, while Penelope was propped up with cushions in a long -chair. She had had a sharp attack of fever, and Ferrers, with an -inward shudder, wondered how he could have thought her handsome when -she landed. But both ladies were unfeignedly pleased to see him, -principally because they were glad of anything that would divert their -thoughts; and he experienced a pleasant sense of contentment and -wellbeing on finding himself established in the dark cool room, with -two women to talk to him. He found that the station had been bereft of -almost the whole of its defenders for nearly twenty-four hours. Two -nights ago Sir Dugald had started with a small force in pursuit of a -band of Nalapuri raiders who were reported to be ravaging the most -fertile part of the border, and yesterday an urgent message had come -from him asking for reinforcements and Major Keeling’s presence. -</p> - -<p> -“But if Haigh and his guns are gone out, it must be a big affair,” -said Ferrers. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, the guns are left at home,” said Lady Haigh. “All of us are -people of all work here. Sir Dugald digs canals, and Captain Porter -conducts cavalry reconnaissances, and Major Keeling works the -guns——” -</p> - -<p> -“And the doctor drills the awkward squad,” supplied Ferrers. “What a -lively time you seem to have!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh well, that was more at first. Then there was scarcely a night -without an alarm, and we used to hear the troops clattering out of the -town at all hours after bands of raiders. There are plenty of alarms -still, but generally in the daytime. Two villages have quarrelled over -their lands, or some ryots have objected to the survey or resisted the -digging of the canal, and Major Keeling is wanted to put things -right.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how calmly you speak of it! You and Pen—Miss Ross—must be -perfect heroines,” said Ferrers. It was clear that Lady Haigh did not -intend to leave him alone with Penelope, and with a resentment which -had in it more than a touch of relief, he set himself to tease her. -“How pleased Haigh must be to know that, whatever is happening to him, -you are just as quiet and happy as if you were at home!” -</p> - -<p> -The malice in his tone was evident, and Lady Haigh knew that he -guessed at the terrors of those broken nights, when Sir Dugald was -summoned away on dangerous duties, and she brought her bed into -Penelope’s room, and they trembled and prayed together till daylight. -But she had no intention of confessing her weakness, and answered -quickly— -</p> - -<p> -“Of course he is. How clever of you to have gauged him so well!” -</p> - -<p> -“And do tell me what you find to do,” asked Ferrers lazily. “At -Bab-us-Sahel you used to be great at gardening.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, until you rode across my flower-beds and ruined them,” retorted -Lady Haigh. “You won’t find any opportunity of doing that here. Oh, we -have only poor silly little things to do compared with the constant -activity and splendid exploits of you gentlemen. We look after the -servants, of course, and try to invent food enough to keep the -household from starvation; and we get out the back numbers of the -‘Ladies’ Repository’ and the ‘Family Friend,’ and follow the -fancy-work patterns; and we read all the books and papers that come to -the station, and sometimes try very hard to improve our minds with the -standard works Miss Ross brought out with her; and in the evening we -go out in our <i>palkis</i> to inspect the progress of the building and -road-making, and offer any foolish suggestions that may occur to us. I -think that’s all.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what a life! and in the hot weather, too! Why don’t you go to the -Hills, as the Punjab ladies do?” -</p> - -<p> -“The Punjab ladies may, if their husbands can afford it. Have you any -idea what it would cost to go to the Hills, or even down to -Bab-us-Sahel, from here?” -</p> - -<p> -“But why come here, then? What good does it do? Of course”—for Lady -Haigh was beginning to look dangerous—“it’s delightful for Haigh to -have you, and all that; but you won’t tell me he’s such a selfish chap -that he wouldn’t rather know you were comparatively cool and -comfortable down by the sea? You can’t make me believe it’s his -doing.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” snapped Lady Haigh, “it’s ours. We are here for the good of the -station. We are civilisation, society—refinement, if you like. We -keep the gentlemen from getting into nasty jungly ways. You are -looking rather jungly yourself.” She delivered this home-thrust -suddenly, and Ferrers realised that his aspect was somewhat careless -and unkempt for the place in which he found himself. “We keep things -up to the standard, you see.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, but I have no one to keep me up to the standard,” he pleaded. -“Out at my place there’s no one to speak to and nothing to do.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then I wonder you chose to go there,” was the sharp retort. -</p> - -<p> -“There was plenty to do just at first, but my rascals are quiet enough -now. A good many of them are dead, for one thing. You heard of our big -fight before you came up—with a raiding-party six hundred strong? I -had to send here for help, worse luck! but even when the -reinforcements came up we were so few that the fellows actually stood -to receive us. We charged through them again and again—I never -remember a finer fight—and there were very few of them left -afterwards.” -</p> - -<p> -“You speak as if you liked it!” said Penelope, with a shudder. -</p> - -<p> -“Like it? it’s the finest thing in life—the only thing worth living -for. You see a great big brute of a Malik coming at you with a curved -tulwar just sweeping down. You try to parry, or fire your Colt -point-blank into his face, and for the moment you can’t quite decide -whether you are dead or the Malik, until you suddenly realise that -your horse is carrying you on towards another fellow, and the Malik is -down. Splendid is no word for it!” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t!” said Lady Haigh sharply. “You’ll make Miss Ross ill again. -What’s that?” as a long-drawn, quavering cry seemed to descend from -the upper air, “Mem Sahib, the regiment returns!” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh sprang up, and was rushing out of the room, when she -suddenly remembered Penelope, and ran back to her. “Yes, I’ll help -you, Pen—how selfish of me! It’s our <i>chaprasi</i>,” she explained -hurriedly to Ferrers. “I stationed him on the tower above this to -watch for any one who might be coming. He was horribly frightened, and -said he knew he should fall down and be killed; but of course I was -not going to give in to that. Carry this cushion up for Miss Ross, -please. There’s a doorway on the ramparts where she can sit in the -shade.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers followed obediently, as Lady Haigh half helped, half dragged -her friend up the narrow stairs, and, after allowing her one look at -the moving cloud of dust, which was all that could be seen in the -distance, established her in the doorway on the cushion, taking her -own place at a telescope which was fixed on a stand. -</p> - -<p> -“This is my own idea,” she said to Ferrers. “Now, why don’t you say I -may justly be proud of it? I am as good as a sentry, I spend so much -time up here scanning the desert. I’m glad they’re coming from that -direction, for we shall be able to distinguish them so much sooner. -They must pass us before getting into the town. Now I begin to see -them. They have prisoners with them, Pen, and there are certainly -fewer of them than started, but somehow they don’t look as if they had -been fighting. No, I see what it is. There’s a whole squadron gone!” -</p> - -<p> -“What!” cried Ferrers, who was standing by, unable to get a single -glance through the telescope, which was monopolised by his hostess. -“Clean gone, Lady Haigh? Must have been detached on special duty, -surely? It couldn’t have been wiped out.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, of course,” and Lady Haigh withdrew from the glass, and -allowed him to look through it; “that must be it, but it gave me such -a fright. But I saw Dugald and Colin, Pen, and the Chief. Muhabat -Khan!” she called to the <i>chaprasi</i>, who descended slowly from the top -of the tower, and stood before her in a submissive attitude but with -an injured expression, “go and meet the regiment as it comes, and say -to the Major Sahib that Ferrers Sahib is here, and that I should be -glad if he and Ross Sahib will come in to tiffin with us. Now, Pen, I -shall take you down again,” as the messenger departed. “Captain -Ferrers will bring the cushion.” -</p> - -<p> -Deposited in her chair once more, Penelope looked very white and -exhausted, and Lady Haigh reproached herself loudly in the intervals -of exchanging mysterious confidences with various servants. -</p> - -<p> -“I ought never to have taken you up to the rampart,” she said; “but I -knew you would like to see them ride in; and besides——” She checked -herself, but Ferrers guessed that she had been afraid to leave -Penelope alone lest he should try to speak to her, and he smiled as he -thought how unnecessary her precautions were. But by this time there -was a clatter of horses’ feet and accoutrements in the courtyard, and -Sir Dugald ran up the steps and kissed his wife, who had sprung to the -door to meet him. -</p> - -<p> -“The Chief and Ross are here,” he said. “Glad you sent that message, -Elma. You all right, Ferrers? Didn’t know you were coming in.” -</p> - -<p> -Major Keeling and Colin Ross were mounting the steps with much -clanking of spurs and scabbards; but it struck Ferrers, as he stood in -the doorway, that his Commandant seemed suddenly to have remembered -something, for as he reached the verandah he lifted his sword and held -it in his hand, and walked with extreme care. After greeting Lady -Haigh, he passed on into the room, and Ferrers observed with -astonishment that the big man was evidently trying to step softly and -speak low. It was not until Major Keeling bent over Penelope’s chair, -and, taking her hand very gently, asked her how she was, that the -watcher realised for whose sake these precautions were taken. -</p> - -<p> -“I felt obliged to come in when I received the order from our -beneficent tyrant over there,” said Major Keeling, in a voice which -seemed to fill the room in spite of his best endeavours; “but if our -presence disturbs you in the least, we will all go and tiffin at my -quarters, and take Haigh off with us too.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, please!” entreated Penelope. “It will do me good, really. It -is so nice to see you all back.” -</p> - -<p> -There was a faint flush in her cheeks, which deepened when Major -Keeling remarked upon it approvingly; and Ferrers remembered, with -unreasonable anger, that her colour had not risen for him. It made her -look pretty again at once, and that great lout the Chief (thus -unflatteringly did he characterise his commanding officer) evidently -thought so too. Once again the younger man was a prey to the curious -form of jealousy which had led him into the impulsive action that he -now regretted. Penelope, for her own sake, had little or no charm for -him, but Penelope, admired by other men, became at once a prize worth -claiming. Ferrers regretted his impulsive action no longer. His appeal -to Colin had at any rate placed him in a position of superiority over -any other man who might approach Penelope. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch05"> -CHAPTER V.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">COLIN AS AMBASSADOR.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">The</span> curious thing was that we had no fighting,” said Major Keeling. -They were seated at the luncheon-table, and Lady Haigh had imperiously -demanded an account of the doings of the force since its departure. -</p> - -<p> -“No fighting!” she cried reproachfully. “And you have kept us in agony -two whole days while you went out for a picnic!” -</p> - -<p> -“It was more than a picnic,” said her guest seriously. “It is one of -the most mysterious things I have ever come across—a complete -success, and yet not a matchlock fired, though every one and -everything was ready for a big fight.” -</p> - -<p> -“I must get to the bottom of this,” said Lady Haigh, with the little -air of importance to which Major Keeling always yielded indulgently. -“Let me hear about it from the beginning. Dugald, you don’t mean to -say that you started out under false pretences when you told me you -were going after a band of raiders?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not at all,” answered Sir Dugald, with imperturbable good-humour. “We -found the raiders, sure enough, at the village which gave the alarm. -They had plundered the granaries, got the cattle together ready to -drive off, and were just going to fire the place when we came up. It -was rather fine when they realised it was the Khemistan Horse they had -to deal with, and not a scratch lot of villagers, for they left the -cattle and decamped promptly. Our only casualty was a trooper who came -upon two laggards at bay in a corner, and tried to take them both -prisoners. Of course we went after them, and several of the villagers, -who had appeared miraculously from their hiding-places, came too. It -was a long chase, and we stuck to them right up to the frontier. Well, -we guessed that this was the band which has made its headquarters at -Khudâdad Khan’s fortress, Dera Gul. The Amir of Nalapur has always -protested his inability to catch and punish them, so, as we had caught -them red-handed on our ground, I thought we would run them to earth. -The raiding must be stopped somehow, and if the Amir can’t do it, he -ought to be grateful to us for doing it for him.” -</p> - -<p> -Major Keeling nodded emphatically. “If he doesn’t show proper -gratitude, I’ll teach it him,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“They rode, and we rode,” Sir Dugald went on; “and as they had the -start and travelled lighter, we had the pleasure of seeing them ride -into Dera Gul and shut the door in our faces. When we summoned -Khudâdad Khan to give them up, he told us to come and take them, and -they jeered at us from the walls and bade us be thankful they let us -go home safe. The place is abominably strong, and they had several -cannon ready mounted, and plenty of men, so I thought the best thing I -could do was to take up a position of observation, and send for -reinforcements and the guns. But as I was writing my message, one of -our friendly ryots advised me to send for Kīlin Sahib, and not -trouble about the guns. ‘You will see that they’ll surrender to him,’ -he said. I didn’t believe it, but he stuck to his text, and my -ressaldar, Bakr Ali, agreed with him, though neither of them would -give me any reason; so I added to my <i>chit</i> an entreaty that the Major -would accompany the reinforcements if possible. And he came, saw, and -conquered.” -</p> - -<p> -“No thanks to myself,” said Major Keeling. “I summoned Khudâdad Khan -to surrender, and he did so at once, with the worst possible grace, -merely stipulating that he and his men should be considered our -prisoners, and not handed over to Nalapur. I knew the Amir would be -precious glad to get rid of them, so I consented. And after -that—Haigh, you will agree with me that it was a queer sensation—we -rode up into the fortress between the rows of scowling outlaws, spiked -the five guns, took stock of the provisions, and left Harris and a -squadron in charge of the place until we can hand it over to the Amir. -The outlaws we brought back with us, and I mean to plant them out on -the newly irrigated land to the west after they have served their -sentences. ‘It was a famous victory.’” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, but how?—why?” cried Lady Haigh. “What made them surrender when -they saw you?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you could tell me that I should be much obliged. There’s a mystery -somewhere, which is always cropping up, and this is part of it. Why, -almost wherever I go, the Maliks and elders meet me as an old -friend—no, not quite that, as a sort of superior being—and inform me -with unction that all my orders are fulfilled already, and that they -are ready to join me with all their fighting men as soon as I want -them. It’s the same with the wild tribes, even those from over the -frontier. Sometimes I have thought there must be a mistake somewhere, -and asked them if they know who I am, and they say, ‘Oh yes, you are -Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib, the ruler of the border for the Honourable -Company,’ with a sort of foolish smirk, as if they expected me to be -pleased. I can’t help thinking they are mistaking me for some one -else.” -</p> - -<p> -“Or some one supernatural—some one of whom they have heard -prophecies,” suggested Lady Haigh breathlessly. -</p> - -<p> -“But you can’t very well ask them that—whether they take you for -Rustam come to life again—lest they should say they never thought of -comparing you to any one of the kind,” said Ferrers. The tone, rather -than the words, was offensive, but Major Keeling ignored it. -</p> - -<p> -“But they do think something of the sort, I believe,” he said. “At -least, when I was present at a tribal <i>jirgah</i> the other day, an old -Malik from a distance remarked that as he had not seen me before, it -would be very consoling to him if I would give a slight exhibition of -my powers. He would not ask for anything elaborate—if I would just -breathe fire for a minute or two, or something of that kind, it would -be enough. I told him I wasn’t a mountebank, and the rest hustled and -scolded him into silence. But after that very meeting another old -fellow, who had been most forward in nudging the first one, and had -looked tremendously knowing as he told him that fire-breathing was not -a custom of the English, got hold of me alone, and whispered, ‘You -won’t forget, Highness, that on the night of which I may not speak you -promised I should ride at your right hand when the time comes?’ -Without thinking, I said, ‘If the night is not to be spoken of, why do -you speak of it?’ and the old fellow stammered, ‘Between you and me, I -thought it was no harm, Heaven-born,’ and after that I could get no -more out of him. Whatever I asked him, he thought I was trying to test -him, and took a pride in keeping his mouth shut.” -</p> - -<p> -“It really is most mysterious,” said Lady Haigh, “and might be most -embarrassing. Do you think you go about paying visits to Maliks in -your sleep, Major Keeling? Because, you see, you might do all sorts of -queer things as well.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know nothing whatever about it—it is totally inexplicable,” said -Major Keeling shortly, rising as he spoke. “I am sorry to break up -your party, Lady Haigh, but Captain Ferrers and I have some business -together, and he ought to be on the way back to his station before -very long.” -</p> - -<p> -Seeing that he was not to escape, Ferrers followed the Commandant, and -passed a highly unpleasant half-hour in his company. From a scathing -rebuke of the criminal carelessness which had led to the late -regrettable incident, Major Keeling passed to personalities. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked sharply. “You ought -to be as hard as nails with the life you lead at Shah Nawaz. But -perhaps you don’t lead it. You look like a Bengal writer.” -</p> - -<p> -“With this examination in view——” began Ferrers with dignity. -</p> - -<p> -“Hang these examinations! They spoil the good men and make the bad -ones worse. I’ll have no one up here who would sacrifice his real work -to them. If you can’t keep your studies to the hot hours, when you -young fellows think it’ll kill you to go out, better give them up. -Your munshi must be a queer sort if he’s willing to work all day with -you. Who is he, by the bye? Fazl-ul-Hacq?—not one of the regular -Bab-us-Sahel munshis, surely? Next time you come in, make some excuse -to bring him with you, and I’ll have a look at him. He never seems to -be forthcoming when I hunt you up at Shah Nawaz, and when a man keeps -out of sight in that way it doesn’t look well. You think he’s all -right, I suppose?” -</p> - -<p> -Now was Ferrers’ chance. With one effort he might break with his old -life and throw off the Mirza’s yoke, exchanging his solitary indolence -at Shah Nawaz for the incessant activity which was the portion of all -who worked under Major Keeling’s own eye. But to do this he must -confess to the man he disliked that he felt himself unfit for -responsibility, and that he had practically betrayed the trust reposed -in him. Moreover, not a man in the province but would believe he had -been deprived of his command as a punishment. This thought was -decisive, and he answered quickly— -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir; I believe he is an excellent teacher, and he makes himself -useful as a clerk when I want one.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, don’t let him become indispensable. That plays the very -mischief with these fellows. They think they’ve got the Sahib under -their thumb, and can do as they like, and very often, when it’s too -late, the Sahib finds out that it’s true. Give your man his <i>rukhsat</i> -[leave to depart] in double quick time if you see that he’s inclined -to presume.” -</p> - -<p> -Wondering savagely what Major Keeling would think of the actual terms -which prevailed between Fazl-ul-Hacq and his employer, Ferrers -acquiesced with outward meekness, and took his leave. Colin Ross had -promised to accompany him part of the way back, and with a couple of -troopers as escort they rode out into the desert. As they passed the -hospital, Dr Tarleton appeared on the verandah, and shook his fist at -Ferrers. -</p> - -<p> -“You rascal!” he cried. “Those words of command you gave me were all -humbug. Just wait until I get you in hospital!” -</p> - -<p> -“What does he mean?” asked Colin, as Ferrers rode on laughing. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, he was trying to drill a lot of non-combatants this morning, and -asked me how to get them out of a corner. Of course I favoured him -with a few directions, with the result that his squad got more -gloriously mixed up than ever. Only wish I had seen them!” -</p> - -<p> -“Tarleton is a good fellow,” said Colin, with apparent irrelevance. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t be a prig, young ’un. Must have a bit of fun sometimes. What is -a man to do, stuck down in a desert under a commandant who’s either a -scoundrel or silly?” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean what the Major was telling us at tiffin? But it’s perfectly -true: they did surrender the moment they saw him.” -</p> - -<p> -“I daresay. He has carefully circulated all these rumours about his -miraculous powers, and then pretends to be surprised that the niggers -believe them. He’s a blatant theatrical egotist—a regular old -Crummles. ‘I can’t think who puts these things in the papers. <i>I</i> -don’t.’ Oh no, of course not!” -</p> - -<p> -“If you mean that Major Keeling is a hypocrite, I don’t agree with -you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now don’t get white-hot. If he isn’t, then he has read Scott till his -brain is turned. You’re such an innocent that you don’t see the man -does everything for effect. His appearance, his perpetual squabbles -with headquarters, his popularity-hunting up here, the idiotic things -he does—they’re all calculated to produce an impression, to make the -unsophisticated stare, in fact. Why, one of my patrols came across him -riding alone at midnight not long ago, miles away from here. The man -must be either mad or a fool.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think you are wrong,” said Colin seriously. “I believe him to be -sincere, though mistaken on some points.” -</p> - -<p> -“What! he’s in your black books too? How has he managed that?” -</p> - -<p> -“He has forbidden me to preach publicly to the men,” was the answer, -given in a low voice, but with strong feeling—“said it would lead -either to religious persecution or the suspicion of it, and that I -must be satisfied with showing them a Christian life, and teaching any -one who might come to me privately of his own accord. But that isn’t -enough. They don’t come, and how can I reach them?” -</p> - -<p> -“Poor old Colin!” said Ferrers, much amused. “What a Crusader you are, -far too good to live nowadays. Fancy finding you in rebellion against -constituted authority! I’ll back you to get more and more stubborn the -worse he bullies you.” -</p> - -<p> -Colin’s face flushed. “No, I was wrong to speak as I did,” he said. -“It is possible the Major may be right, though I cannot see it. In any -case, it is my duty to submit for the present.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which means that you won’t accept my sympathy against the great -Keeling. You always were a staunch little chap, Colin. Bet anything -you stick up for me behind my back just as you do for him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course,” said Colin simply; “you are our oldest friend.” -</p> - -<p> -“That’s all very well, but your sister doesn’t feel as you do. It was -pretty clearly intimated to me to-day that I was not to call her -Penelope, by the bye. She’s done with me, I see. She scarcely spoke a -word to me the whole time I was there.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no; indeed you are wrong,” said Colin eagerly. “She is ill, and -can’t talk much. She knows your wishes perfectly. Why, you can’t think -I would ever let her disappoint you?” -</p> - -<p> -“You wouldn’t, perhaps, but Lady Haigh would be precious glad to see -her do it. Look here, Colin, give your sister a message from me. Put -it properly—that while I accept her ruling, and won’t venture to -address her at present—you know the sort of thing?—yet I fully -intend to claim her promise some day, and I regard her as belonging to -me, and I trust she does the same. Make it as strong as you like.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will. I didn’t know you took it to heart so much, and Penelope will -be glad to know it too. I’m sure she has an idea that you don’t—well, -care for her as you once did. But now I can put that right. You know -that there’s no one I would sooner have as a brother-in-law if—if all -was well with you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, all in good time. There is one of my patrols over there, so -you had better turn back now. All right!” -</p> - -<p> -Colin turned back with the escort, and Ferrers pursued his way, fuming -inwardly. He did not wish to deceive his friend. Was it his fault if -Colin was so ridiculously easy to deceive, and persisted in believing -the best of him in spite of all evidence to the contrary? Ferrers knew -what his last sentence had meant. There were certain books with which -Colin had provided him, entreating him to read them, when he went to -Shah Nawaz, and which he was always anxious to discuss with him when -they met. Since the only form of religious study to which Ferrers had -given any attention of late was the convenient philosophy expounded by -the Mirza, which proved right and wrong to be much the same thing, and -man to be equally irresponsible for either, he congratulated himself -on having so skilfully evaded cross-examination. -</p> - -<p> -As for Colin, he rode back to Alibad with a serious face, and, instead -of stopping at his quarters, went on to the fort to find Penelope. He -was full of generous indignation over the treatment Ferrers had -received, and he was glad Lady Haigh was out of the way. Penelope -raised her tired head from her cushions in surprise as he entered. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Colin! Is there anything the matter, dear?” -</p> - -<p> -“I am disappointed in you, Pen,” he returned gently, sitting down -beside her. “You have treated poor George very unkindly to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -Reproof from Colin, though he was only her own age, was very grievous -to Penelope. “Oh no,” she cried, trying to defend herself; “I scarcely -spoke to him, and I’m sure I said nothing unkind.” -</p> - -<p> -“That was just it. You said nothing to him, and he is deeply hurt.” -</p> - -<p> -“But he was so rough and noisy, Colin, and talked so loud. I could -scarcely bear him to be in the room.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is not like you to be selfish. He wants a helping hand just now, -and you think only of his voice and manners. It is a terrible -responsibility to push a man back when he is trying to climb up.” -</p> - -<p> -“If that was all,” said Penelope, rather warmly, “I would give him any -help I could. But you know you said he wanted more than that.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course he does.” Colin drew back and looked at her in -astonishment. “Why, Pen, he has your promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no,” she said restlessly, “not quite a promise. I—I don’t like -him, Colin. He is quite different from what he used to be. Even his -face has changed.” -</p> - -<p> -“Your promise,” he repeated. “I know you took advantage of his -generosity to withdraw it for a moment, but you renewed it again -immediately when I pointed out to you what you had done. Penelope, is -it possible that you—my sister—wish to break a solemn promise? What -reason can you possibly have for such a thing?” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope writhed. She had no reason to give, even to herself. All she -knew was that she had felt to-day as never before the incubus of -George Ferrers’ presence, the utter lack of sympathy between herself -and him. If she contrasted him with any one else, it was done -unconsciously. -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t believe he wishes it himself,” she said. “He doesn’t care for -me. He doesn’t behave as if he did.” -</p> - -<p> -“He told me himself,” returned Colin’s solemn, accusing voice, “that -while he would not venture to appeal to you at present, it was his -dearest hope to claim your promise some day. It is your privilege to -help him to raise himself again to the position he has lost. What can -be a more noble task for a woman?” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope could not say. Alone with Lady Haigh, it was easy to agree -that woman was an independent being, with a life and rights of her -own; but she would never have dreamt of asserting this to Colin, to -whom a woman was a more or less necessary complement to a man. Ferrers -needed her, therefore she would naturally accept the charge—that was -his view. -</p> - -<p> -“Would you wish me to marry him as he is now?” she asked desperately. -</p> - -<p> -“No,” he answered, after a moment’s consideration: “I am not quite -happy about him, and that is why I am most anxious you should be kind -to him. With your sympathy to help him on, and the hope of claiming -you at last, he will find the path much easier to climb. Surely this -is not too much to ask?” -</p> - -<p> -It sounded eminently fair and reasonable, but Penelope felt that it -was not. There was a flaw somewhere which Colin did not see, and she -could not point out to him, even if she could be sure that she saw it -herself. Ferrers did not care for her, she was convinced, even in the -careless, patronising style of his early days, and yet he insisted on -keeping her bound. But perhaps he loved her in some strange fashion of -his own, of which she could have no experience or conception. And -Colin thought that the sacrifice was called for. She turned to him. -</p> - -<p> -“I—I will try to like him, and help him—and do as he wishes,” she -said, finding a strange difficulty in speaking. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course. I knew you couldn’t do anything else,” said Colin, with -such utter unconsciousness of the mental struggle she had just gone -through that Penelope found his calm acquiescence almost maddening. -She was glad to be saved the necessity of answering by the sudden -entrance of Lady Haigh, who turned back to rebuke a servant for not -having drawn up the blinds, and then discovered Colin. -</p> - -<p> -“You here?” she cried. “Why, an orderly came up ten minutes ago to ask -if you had come back, and I said you hadn’t. That old wretch Gobind -Chand, the Nalapur Vizier, is to come here to-morrow instead of next -week, and every one is as busy as possible. And you have been making -Penelope cry! Well, I hope Major Keeling will give you the worst -scolding you ever had in your life—for being so late, I mean, of -course.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch06"> -CHAPTER VI.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">MOUNTING IN HOT HASTE.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Gobind Chand</span>, to whom Lady Haigh had alluded, was the Hindu Vizier -of the Mohammedan state of Nalapur, the boundary of which marched with -that of Khemistan on the north. It was no secret to the rulers of -Khemistan that the consolidation of their power, of which Major -Keeling’s settlement on the frontier was only one of the signs, could -not be particularly welcome to the Amir Wilayat Ali. Formerly the -country beyond his own border had been a happy hunting-ground, whither -he could despatch any inconvenient Sardar or too successful soldier to -raid and plunder until he was tired, reserving to himself the right of -demanding a percentage of the spoil when the exile wished to return -home. There were also pleasant little pickings derivable from the -passage of caravans through the Akrab Pass, and the payment by weak -tribes or unwarlike villages of what one side called tribute and the -other blackmail, as the price of peace. These things gave the Amir a -distinct pecuniary interest in the frontier district, and during Major -Keeling’s first sojourn on the border, every effort had been made by -the Nalapuris, short of actual war, to convince him that his presence -was both undesired and useless. The lapse of time, however, and the -activity of the Khemistan Horse, proved to the Amir that his unwelcome -neighbour had come to stay, and whereas at first any raider had only -to cross the border to receive asylum, Wilayat Ali now persisted in -regarding the regiment as his private police. It was quite unnecessary -for him to take any trouble to secure marauders when the Khemistan -Horse had merely to come and seize them, and would do so whether he -liked it or not, and he announced that he left the task of keeping -order on both sides of the frontier to them, though this was not at -all Major Keeling’s intention, which had been to secure the Amir’s -active co-operation for the good of both states. To the English the -ruler posed as an obliging friend, but when he wished to demand -support or subsidies from his Sardars, he became a helpless victim -coerced by superior force; and as he could play both parts without -disturbing his own tranquillity by taking any steps whatever, he -opposed a passive resistance to all projects of reform. Major Keeling -had visions of a time when he would have leisure to arrange a -conference at which various outstanding questions might be discussed, -and the Amir brought to see what was expected of him; but in view of -the Amir’s obvious preference for the present state of things, there -seemed little prospect of this. -</p> - -<p> -Apparently, then, the Khemistan authorities should have been pleased -when Wilayat Ali suddenly despatched his Vizier, Gobind Chand, to bear -his somewhat belated congratulations to Sir Henry Lennox on becoming a -K.C.B. To the more suspicious-minded it appeared, however, that the -Amir had heard rumours of the General’s approaching departure, and -wished to inquire as to their truth. This suspicion was confirmed when -Gobind Chand, after postponing his departure from Bab-us-Sahel on -endless pretexts connected with his own health and that of every -member of his suite, suddenly took a house at the port and announced -that he was going to learn English, and would remain until his studies -were completed. As this would at the lowest computation allow ample -time for Sir Henry to depart and his successor to arrive, the pretext -was a little too transparent, and it was politely intimated to Gobind -Chand that his own state must be in need of his valuable services, and -he was set on his homeward way. In advance went a message to Major -Keeling, ordering him to receive the distinguished traveller with all -due attention, but to see him over the frontier without delay, and -this caused a good deal of bustle and excitement at Alibad. -</p> - -<p> -In spite of the activity with which building operations had been -carried on, the gaol and the hospital were still the only edifices -actually completed, and as Major Keeling refused hotly even to -consider the possibility of receiving the envoy in the fort, it was -necessary to erect a large tent in the space which had been set apart -for public gardens, but which could not be laid out until the hot -weather was over. Gobind Chand and his retinue would encamp outside -the town for the night, be received by the Commandant in the morning, -and resume their homeward journey in the afternoon—this was the -programme. There were various ceremonies to be gone through, gifts had -to be presented and accepted, and provision was made for a private -interview between the two great men, to which only their respective -secretaries were to be admitted. But when the time came for the -interview, Gobind Chand surprised his host by requesting that even the -secretaries might be excluded; and for more than an hour the officers -of the Khemistan Horse kicked their heels in the anteroom, and gazed -resentfully at the contented immobility of the Vizier’s attendants -opposite them, wondering what secrets the old sinner could have to -tell the Chief. Their waiting-time came to an end suddenly. Raised -voices were heard in the inner room, Major Keeling’s storming in -Hindustani, Gobind Chand’s, shrill with fear, trying to urge some -consideration upon him. Then the heavy curtain over the doorway was -pulled aside with such force that it was torn from its fastenings, and -the cringing form of the Vizier appeared on the threshold, with hands -upraised in deprecation. He seemed to be in fear of a blow, but Major -Keeling, who towered over him, gripping the torn curtain fiercely, -made no attempt to proceed to personal chastisement. -</p> - -<p> -“Go!” he said, and the monosyllable came from his lips with the force -of an explosive. Gobind Chand’s attendants were on their feet in a -moment, and hurried their master out of the tent, Captain Porter, in -obedience to a gesture from the Commandant, following them to -superintend their departure. -</p> - -<p> -“Haigh!” said Major Keeling, and Sir Dugald detached himself from the -rest. “In my office—at once,” and he led the way, Sir Dugald -following. For a moment or two Major Keeling’s indignation seemed to -deprive him of speech, as he tramped up and down the little room; then -he turned suddenly on his subordinate. -</p> - -<p> -“What are you waiting there for? You will take twenty sowars and ride -to Nalapur with a letter for the Amir. Go and change your things,” -with a withering glance at Sir Dugald’s full-dress uniform, “and the -despatches will be ready when you are. Or before,” he added savagely. -</p> - -<p> -It was fortunate that Sir Dugald was a man of even temper, and had -some experience of his leader’s peculiarities, for Major Keeling’s -manner was unpleasant in the extreme. But as he was leaving the room -he was recalled— -</p> - -<p> -“You must get a guide from Shah Nawaz. Ferrers has several Nalapuris -in his detachment. I will ride with you part of the way myself, and -post you in the state of affairs. Send Ross to me for orders.” -</p> - -<p> -The tone was quite different, and Sir Dugald had no longer reason to -fear that he might unwittingly have excited his Commandant’s -displeasure. He hastened to his quarters, sent a hurried message to -his wife, and reappeared in undress uniform before the letter was -finished, or the twenty horsemen, picked and duly equipped by Colin, -had ridden into the compound before Major Keeling’s quarters. Each man -carried, as was the rule on these expeditions, three days’ rations for -himself and fodder for his horse, with a skin of water. When Sir -Dugald had been summoned into the inner office to receive the letter, -Major Keeling’s black horse Miani was brought up, and presently the -little troop clattered out into the desert, the two Englishmen riding -ahead, out of earshot of the sowars. -</p> - -<p> -“Now!” said Major Keeling, when they had settled into the pace which -experience had shown was the best for a long march, “I suppose you -would like to hear what the row is about. I’m glad I kept my hands off -that fellow, though I don’t know how I managed it. He wanted me to -help him to murder his master and make himself Amir.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what inducement did he offer?” Sir Dugald’s frigid calm in asking -the question was intentional, for Major Keeling’s wrath was evidently -bubbling up again. -</p> - -<p> -“Half the contents of the treasury, whatever that might prove to be. -But is that all you think about? Do you mean to say you don’t see the -insult involved in the offer—the fellow’s opinion of us who wear the -British uniform? Good heavens! are you made of stone?” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald smiled with some difficulty, for his face had grown tense. -“You are the only man who would say such things to me, Major Keeling, -and the only man I would allow to do it. With you I have no choice.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no; I beg your pardon. That abominable coolness of yours—but I -shall be insulting you again if I don’t look out. But if you had sat -listening to that villain for an hour, while he depicted Nalapur as a -perfect hell on earth, and Wilayat Ali as a wholly suitable ruler for -it, and then at last brought things round to the point he had been -aiming at all along, but which I had never seen, you’d know something -of what I feel. Why, the fellow had the inconceivable impudence to say -that he thought I understood all the time what he was driving at, and -only held back so as to make certain that he put himself completely in -my power!” -</p> - -<p> -“But he could never have thought we should set a Hindu over a -Mohammedan state.” -</p> - -<p> -“What have we done in Kashmir?” -</p> - -<p> -“But Nalapur is outside our borders. We don’t claim any right to -interfere in their choice of a ruler.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whether we claim it or not, we have interfered already. It was before -your time, of course, just after that wretched expedition to Ethiopia, -where we ought never to have gone, but having gone, we should have -stayed. Nasr Ali was Amir then, and his behaviour throughout was most -correct, even when our fortunes were at the lowest. Unfortunately for -him, it was thought well that the General and he should meet, so that -he might be thanked for his loyalty, and a halt was made for the -purpose. Things went wrong from that moment. The General and his -escort were attacked by tribesmen in one of the passes, and when they -got through, with some loss, the news came that Nasr Ali was ill, and -not able to meet them. You know what Old Harry is, and how he was -likely to receive such a message after the impudence of the tribes; -and just as he was working himself up into a fine fury there came to -his camp in disguise these two scoundrels, Gobind Chand and Wilayat -Ali, the Amir’s brother. They made out that they had stolen away at -the risk of their lives to warn the General that Nasr Ali meant to -murder him and the whole escort. Sir Henry didn’t wait to inquire why -Nasr Ali should choose the time when a victorious army was within call -to assassinate its leader, for the fugitives’ news just fitted in with -his own suspicions. They gave him a sign by which he was to judge of -their good faith. Nasr Ali had promised to receive the mission at the -gate of the city the following day: if he did not appear, that would -be proof of his treachery. Sir Henry sent an order back to the army -for a brigade to be in readiness, and waited. Sure enough, before they -reached the city gate Wilayat Ali, in his own person this time, came -to meet them and say that his brother was too ill to come out, but -would receive them in the <i>killa</i> [palace] if they would enter the -city. To Sir Henry, and all who remembered the Ethiopian business, it -was simply an invitation to come and be murdered; so he rode back to -camp, sent another messenger to order up the brigade, and passed a -horribly uncomfortable night, expecting to be attacked at every -moment. Much to his astonishment, he was not attacked, though bands of -Nalapuris were said to be circling round, hoping to catch him off his -guard, and then the brigade arrived after a forced march. Old Harry -allowed the men two or three hours’ rest, occupied the hills -overlooking the city in the night, and sent in a demand for its -surrender in the morning. Nasr Ali, posing, so the General thought, as -an injured innocent, protested against the whole thing as a piece of -the blackest treachery, carried out under the mask of friendship, and -refused to surrender. I don’t want to go into the whole sickening -business; the place was stormed, and Nasr Ali killed in the fighting. -Wilayat Ali opened the gates of the <i>killa</i>, and allowed the treasury -(there was remarkably little in it) to be looted. He was the natural -heir, for Nasr Ali’s women and children had all been massacred. Of -course Wilayat Ali gave us to understand that our troops had done it, -but that is absolutely untrue. The first man that broke into the -zenana found it looted, and dead bodies everywhere—a shocking sight. -I haven’t the slightest doubt that Wilayat Ali had admitted a set of -<i>badmashes</i> to wipe out his unfortunate brother’s family, and intended -to charge it on us, but there’s no proving it. Well, he was placed on -the <i>gadi</i> with Gobind Chand as his Vizier, and we marched home again. -Little by little things came out which made me think a horrible -miscarriage of justice had occurred, and when I laid them before Sir -Henry he had to believe it too. That Wilayat Ali deliberately traduced -and betrayed his brother in order to obtain his kingdom I am as -certain as that I am here, and now I have to interfere to save him -from being murdered by his fellow-scoundrel!” -</p> - -<p> -“There is no chance of putting things right,” said Sir Dugald, in the -tone of one stating a fact rather than asking a question. -</p> - -<p> -“None. If any of poor Nasr Ali’s children survived, we might do -something, but the fiends took good care of that. There were two boys, -certainly, and I believe some daughters as well, but they are beyond -reach of any atonement we can make. And since no good could come of -it, it would look rather bad for the paramount Power to have to -confess how easily it had been hoodwinked; so we let ill alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“Poetic justice would suggest that you should allow Gobind Chand to -murder Wilayat Ali, and to be murdered in his turn by the Sardars.” -</p> - -<p> -“And put young Hasrat Ali, Wilayat’s son, who by all accounts is a -regular chip of the old block, on the <i>gadi</i>? That wouldn’t better -things much, and would mean a nice crop of revolutions and tumults. -Nalapur is too close to our borders for that sort of thing. I don’t -say that I wouldn’t have welcomed poetic justice if it had had the -sense to take its course without consulting me; but as it is, I can’t -connive at the removal of an ally, even an unsatisfactory one. Your -business is to see the Amir as soon as you arrive, if bribes or -threats will do it, so as to forestall Gobind Chand; but don’t leave -without delivering the despatch into his hands, if you have to wait -for a week. Even if Gobind Chand succeeds in getting round him and -persuading him of his innocence, the warning will make him keep his -eyes wide open. And—I am not a particularly nervous man, but this is -a wicked world—see that your men mount guard properly day and night -while you are in Nalapur, and go the rounds yourself at irregular -intervals. Since you know something now of Wilayat Ali, I needn’t -remind you not to trust a word that he says. Well, I’ll turn back -here. Take care of yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald saluted and rode on with his detachment, and Major Keeling, -putting spurs to his horse, galloped back to Alibad, still in the -gold-laced uniform and plumed helmet he had donned for his interview -with the Vizier. He had never many minutes to waste, and Gobind Chand -had robbed him of half a working day already, but he made time to -pause at the fort and send Lady Haigh a message that he had seen her -husband on his way. -</p> - -<p> -“As if that was any consolation!” cried Lady Haigh when she received -it. “If he had seen him coming back, now——! The way he keeps poor -Dugald running about all day and every day is really shameful. I do -believe”—with gloomy triumph—“that he picks him out for all the -dangerous and awkward bits of work on purpose. If anything happened to -any of the other men, their sweethearts or mothers or sisters might -reproach the Major, and so he sends Dugald, knowing that I have sworn -not to say a word, whatever happens.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope smiled feebly. She was very long in recovering from her -attack of fever, and Lady Haigh was anxious about her, even throwing -out hints as to the possibility of emulating the despicable conduct of -the Punjab ladies, and taking a trip to the Hills or the sea. But -Penelope only shook her head, and said she should be better when the -cool weather came. No change of scene could alter the fact that she -had finally and deliberately taken upon herself the responsibility of -Ferrers and his failings, or relieve her from the haunting feeling -that henceforward there would be a blank in her life. What caused the -blank she had not courage to ask herself. People were not so fond of -analysing their sensations in those days as in these; it was enough to -be conscious of an ever-present sense of loss, to know that she had -put away from her something that it would have been a joy to possess. -</p> - -<p> -Three days passed without news of any kind, dreary days to the two -ladies, who devoted themselves, as in honour bound, to their -unsatisfactory pursuits, and only emerged from the fort for their -evening ride. The “gardens”—for the name which sounded ironical had -by general consent been adopted as prophetic—boasted a nondescript -erection of masonry which did duty as a band-stand; and here a band in -process of making struggled painfully through various easy exercises -and a mutilated edition of “God Save the Queen.” Lady Haigh and -Penelope always halted their <i>palkis</i> dutifully in the neighbourhood -of the band, and stepped out to walk and talk a little with Major -Keeling and the other men. It was as necessary to appear here once -a-day as on the sea-drive at Bab-us-Sahel, and if Major Keeling was in -the town he never failed to show himself. Riding, fighting, building, -surveying, planting, exercising his men, administering his district, -he had ten men’s work in hand, and his only moment of leisure in the -whole day was this brief evening promenade. Lady Haigh told him once -that it was very good of him to devote it to social purposes. He -replied gravely that it was his duty, the least he could do—then -hesitated, and confessed that he did not dislike it, nay, that the -thought of it sometimes occurred to him pleasantly in the intervals of -his day’s labours, and Lady Haigh received the information with -suitable surprise and gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -When the watchman on the fort tower announced at last that Sir -Dugald’s detachment was in sight, Major Keeling broke up abruptly the -court he was holding, and rode out to meet him. As soon as details -could be discerned through the haze of sand, he assured himself that -the numbers were complete, and that no fighting had taken place; but -Sir Dugald’s face, as he met him, did not bear any look of triumph. -</p> - -<p> -“Well?” asked the older man sharply. -</p> - -<p> -“The Amir absolutely refused to receive me until the morning after we -arrived, and by that time Gobind Chand had turned up, of course. They -make out that Gobind Chand’s proposal to you was inspired by his -master, and intended to test your friendship.” -</p> - -<p> -“I hope they were satisfied that it had stood the test?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, hardly. They said that if you were really friendly you would -hand over to them some fugitive called the Sheikh-ul-Jabal.” -</p> - -<p> -Major Keeling nodded his head slowly two or three times. “So that’s -it, is it? Rather a neat plan, if my righteous indignation hadn’t -knocked it on the head. But somehow I don’t fancy Wilayat Ali would -care to suggest to Gobind Chand the idea of murdering him. And yet, if -you got to Nalapur before Gobind Chand, how could he have managed to -delay the audience until he had put things right with the Amir? Of -course he may have anticipated my action, and left directions, but—— -Who was your guide, after all?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ferrers’ munshi, Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq.” -</p> - -<p> -“What!” Major Keeling smote his hand upon his knee. “That man, of all -men? The very last—— How in the world——?” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there any objection to him? Ferrers did not want to weaken his -garrison, for the outlaw Shir Hussein is in the neighbourhood again, -and he hopes to catch him. This man knows Nalapur well, and has -friends in the city. Ferrers trusts him implicitly—with all that he -has in the world, if you are to believe the Mirza himself.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can quite believe it. Well, no matter. I ought to have warned you. -No, I know nothing against the man; but why does he always keep out of -my way, if it isn’t that he’s afraid to meet me? And he has friends in -Nalapur, has he? Did he go to see them as soon as you arrived?” -</p> - -<p> -“Fairly soon after. I thought it as well to let him trot off, so that -he might bring us warning if there was any talk of attacking us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Quite so. But I hardly think he’d have done it. So they want the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal given up? I’ll see them hanged first!” -</p> - -<p> -“Is there anything peculiar about the man, Major,—any mystery——?” -</p> - -<p> -“None that I know of. Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Both the Amir and Gobind Chand looked at me very hard when they made -the demand, almost as if they expected to stare me out of countenance. -And there was a sort of uneasiness about the whole interview, as if -either they knew more than I did, or suspected me of knowing more than -they did—I couldn’t make out which. And perhaps you didn’t notice, -sir, that when Gobind Chand met you first he gave a great start? I -noticed it, and so did Porter.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, I didn’t see it. That wretched mystery cropping up again, I -suppose! I wish I could get to the bottom of it. But there’s nothing -mysterious about the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. He was a great friend of our -unfortunate victim, Nasr Ali, who married his sister, and he managed -to escape into our territory, with a few followers, when the trouble -came. He had done us good service in the Ethiopian war, and Sir Henry, -whose conscience was pricking him pretty badly, was glad to promise -him protection, though Wilayat Ali has never ceased to press for his -being given up. He is a heretic of some sort, and the orthodox -Nalapuri Mullahs hate him like poison.” -</p> - -<p> -“A Sufi, I suppose?” said Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“No; he is the head of a sect of his own—the remnant of some -organisation which was very powerful at the time of the Crusades, I -believe. Even now he seems to have adherents all over Asia, and -several times he has given us valuable information. But Wilayat Ali -swears that he is perpetually intriguing against him, and so the -Government have rewarded him rather scurvily—forbidden him to quit -Khemistan. The poor man laid it so much to heart that he took a vow -never to leave his house again as long as the sun shone upon the -earth.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then he is a state prisoner somewhere? Is he down at the coast?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, he has furbished up a ruined fort which he found in the -mountains, and calls it Sheikhgarh. He has an allowance from us, and -he could range all over the province if he liked. It is only his vow -that prevents him, and, curiously enough, I have reason to know that -it’s not as alarming as it sounds.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, have you ever seen him?” -</p> - -<p> -“I have, and I have not. I met him out in the desert one night—saw a -troop of men riding, and challenged them. When he heard who I was, he -came forward to explain that for a person of such sanctity it was easy -to dispense himself partially from his vow—so as to let him take his -rides abroad at night. He was muffled up to the eyes, and it was dark, -besides, so I can’t say I saw him, but I liked his voice. I told him -he need fear no molestation from me, that I considered both he and -Nasr Ali had been treated scandalously, and that I was on his side if -the Government troubled him any more.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald hid a smile. Major Keeling’s opinion of any government he -might happen to serve was never a matter of doubt, and no prudential -motives would be likely to induce him to keep it secret. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch07"> -CHAPTER VII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">EYE-WITNESS.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Sir Henry Lennox</span> had resigned his post, and the military despotism -in Khemistan proper was at an end. The Europeans at Alibad journeyed -in two detachments to the port on the river to bid farewell to the old -warrior, who was making his last triumphal progress amid the tears and -lamentations of the people to whom, according to his enemies and their -newspapers, his name was a signal for universal execration. The -General and his flotilla of steamers passed on, and Major Keeling -returned to Alibad, refusing to be comforted. The epoch of the soldier -was over, that of the civilian had begun, and, like his old commander, -he detested civilians as a class, without prejudice to certain -favoured individuals, with a furious hatred. Mr Crayne, the newly -appointed Commissioner, was not only a civilian but a man of such an -awkward temper that it was said his superiors and contemporaries at -Bombay had united to thrust the post upon him. It was not his by -seniority, but they would have been willing to see him made -Governor-General if it would remove him from their immediate -neighbourhood. In him Major Keeling perceived a foeman worthy of his -steel, and before the new ruler had fairly arrived in the province, -they were embarked upon a fierce paper warfare over almost every point -of Mr Crayne’s inaugural utterance. After a hard day’s work, it was a -positive refreshment to the soldier to sit down and compose a fiery -letter to his obnoxious superior; and since he was one of those to -whom experience brings little wisdom, he repeated with zest the old -mistake which had made him a by-word in official circles. More than -once in former years, when he thought he had made a specially good -point in a controversy of this kind, or forced his opponent into a -particularly untenable corner, he had sent the correspondence to the -Bombay papers, which were ready enough to print it, salving their -consciences by printing also scathing remarks on the sender. They gave -him no sympathy, and the military authorities sent him stinging -rebukes; but as if by a kind of fatality he did the same thing over -again as often as circumstances made it possible. His friends and -subordinates looked on with fear and trembling, and whispered that the -only reason he was still in the service was the fact that no one else -could keep the frontier quiet: his enemies chuckled while they -writhed, and said that the man was hard at work twisting the rope to -hang himself, and it must be long enough soon. -</p> - -<p> -It was unfortunate that Ferrers should have chosen this particular -time to ask for leave in order to pay a visit to his uncle. He was -heartily sick of the frontier, and the prospect of the Christmas -festivities at Bab-us-Sahel was very pleasant. Moreover, he was -anxious to bring himself to Mr Crayne’s remembrance. These months of -hard service in a detestable spot like Alibad ought to have quite -wiped out the memory of his past follies, and the uncle who had -refused a request for money with unkind remarks such as made his -nephew’s ears tingle still, might be willing to help him in other ways -now that he could do so without cost to himself. By dint of studiously -respectful and persistent letters congratulating Mr Crayne on his -appointment, Ferrers had succeeded in eliciting a sufficiently cordial -invitation to spend Christmas at Government House, provided he could -obtain leave. His uncle did not offer to pay his expenses; but for the -provision of the heavy cost of the journey he relied, in his usual -fashion, on the trustfulness of the regimental <i>shroff</i>—an elastic -term for an official whose functions included both banking and -money-lending. The obstacle came just where he had not expected it, -for Major Keeling refused to grant him leave. It was true that Ferrers -had already had the full leave to which he was entitled, and had spent -it in hunting, but a more prudent man than the Commandant might have -felt inclined to stretch a point, with the view of conciliating the -ruling power. Not so Major Keeling. If he had felt the slightest -inclination to grant Ferrers’ request, the fact that he was Mr -Crayne’s nephew would have kept him from doing so; but as it was, he -rated Ferrers severely for asking for leave at all when the freebooter -Shir Hussein was still at large in his district and foiling all -attempts to lay him by the heels. Exasperated alike by the refusal and -the rebuke, Ferrers rode back to Shah Nawaz in a towering passion, and -casting aside the restraint which he had hitherto maintained, gave -vent to his feelings by inveighing furiously against the Commandant in -the presence of Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq. The Mirza listened calmly, and -with something like amusement, saying little, but the few words he -uttered were calculated to inflame his employer’s rage rather than to -allay it. -</p> - -<p> -“Keeling has made up his mind to persecute me for being my uncle’s -nephew!” cried Ferrers at last. “I won’t stand it. I’ll appeal to the -Commissioner. He can’t refuse to take my side when he sees how I’m -treated.” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be he will remove you to another post, sahib,” suggested the -Mirza. -</p> - -<p> -“I only wish he would! I’d go like a shot.” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be that Kīlin Sahib wishes it also.” The suggestion was made -in a meditative tone, and Ferrers turned and looked at the Mirza. -</p> - -<p> -“What do you mean? Hasn’t he just refused to let me go?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is one thing to go for a while and return, and another to depart -permanently, sahib,” was the answer. -</p> - -<p> -“You mean that he hopes to make me throw up the frontier altogether? -What business has he to try and turn me out?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, sahib, it is not for me to say. But it may be he has no desire -that there should always be one near him who might carry tales to your -honour’s uncle.” -</p> - -<p> -“What tales could I carry? The man’s straight enough. He does himself -more harm by one of his own letters that I could do him in a year.” -</p> - -<p> -“Even if your honour told all that you know?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, of course. What are you driving at, Mirza? I wish you wouldn’t -be so abominably mysterious.” -</p> - -<p> -“If Firoz Sahib knows nothing now that his honoured uncle would care -to hear, it may be he might learn something.” -</p> - -<p> -“There you go again! What is it? Do you know anything?” -</p> - -<p> -“Is it for the dust of the earth, the poor servant of Firoz Sahib, to -utter words against the great Kīlin Sahib, the lord of the border? -The lips of my lord’s slave are sealed.” -</p> - -<p> -“That they’re not. You’ve gone too far to draw back now. If you don’t -tell me what you mean, I’ll have it out of you one way or another.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, my lord will not so far forget himself as to utter threats to -his servant?” said the Mirza, in a silky tone which nevertheless -reminded Ferrers that his dependant could make things very unpleasant -for him if he liked. “As I have said, I may not bear testimony against -Kīlin Sahib; but who shall blame me if I enable my lord to see with -his own eyes the things of which I speak?” -</p> - -<p> -“By all means. Splendid idea!” said Ferrers, divided between the -desire of conciliating the Mirza and a certain reluctance to spy upon -the Commandant. But this quickly gave place to excitement. What could -he be going to discover? “When can you do this?” he asked. “And how -can you manage about me?” -</p> - -<p> -“If my lord will deign to put on once more, as often in the past, the -garments of the faithful, and will pledge himself to say nothing of -what he sees save what I may give him leave to reveal, I will lead him -this very night to a certain place where he shall see things that will -surprise him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, all right!” said Ferrers, forgetting that he was putting himself -once more into the Mirza’s power. “The <i>daffadar</i> must know we are -going out in disguise, in case of an alarm in the night, but he had -better think we are going to try and track Shir Hussein. You look -after the clothes, of course. Do we ride or walk?” -</p> - -<p> -“We will ride the first part of the way, sahib, and two ponies shall -be in readiness; but the place to which we go is a <i>pir</i>’s tomb in the -hills this side of the Akrab Pass, and there we must walk. But we -shall return to the ponies, and be here again by dawn.” -</p> - -<p> -The Mirza bowed himself out, and Ferrers whiled away the rest of the -day in vain speculations. Was he about to discover that Major Keeling -amused himself with such adventures as he and his friends at -Bab-us-Sahel had been wont to undertake? He thought not, for, though -born and partly brought up in India, the Major had always spoken with -contemptuous dislike of Europeans who aped the natives, or tried to -live a double life. Of course that might be only to throw his hearers -off the scent, but still—and Ferrers went over the ground again, with -the same result. He had not come to any decision as to what he was to -expect to see by the time the Mirza thought it was safe to start, and -he could get no satisfaction from him. He was to judge with his own -eyes, and not be prepared beforehand for what he was to be shown. -</p> - -<p> -It was a long ride over the desert, which shone faintly white in the -starlight. There was no wind, and the whirling sand which made -travelling so unpleasant in the daytime was momentarily still. The -distant cry of a wild animal was to be heard at times, but no human -beings seemed to be abroad save the two riders. It was different, -however, when they had reached the mountains, and, picketing the -ponies in a convenient hollow, began to climb a rocky path, for here -and there in front of them was to be seen a muffled figure. Once or -twice they passed or were overtaken by one of these, with whom the -Mirza exchanged a low-toned greeting, the words of which Ferrers could -not distinguish. Sooner than he expected they found themselves -entering a village of rough mud-huts, which had evidently grown up -around and under the protection of a larger building, a Moslem -sanctuary of some sort. This must be the tomb of the <i>pir</i>, or holy -man, of whom the Mirza had spoken, thought Ferrers; and he noticed -that muffled figures like those he had seen on the way up seemed to be -thronging into it. The place was built of rough mud-brick, but there -were rude traces of decoration about the walls, and some architectural -features in the form of a bulb-shaped dome and two rather squat -minarets. Ferrers and his guide joined the crowd at the entrance, and -were pressing into the building with them, when Ferrers felt the Mirza -grasp his arm, and impel him aside. They seemed to have turned into a -dark passage between two walls, while the rest of the crowd had gone -straight on, and a man with whom the Mirza spoke for a moment, and who -was apparently one of the keepers of the tomb, closed a door behind -them as soon as they had entered. Still guided by the Mirza, Ferrers -stumbled along the passage until a faint gleam of starlight through a -loop-hole showed him that there was a spiral staircase in front. The -steps were choked with sand and much decayed, but the two men made -shift to climb them, and came out at last on a fairly smooth mud -platform, which was evidently the roof of the tomb. The Mirza walked -noiselessly across it until he came to the dark mass which represented -the bulging dome, and Ferrers, following, found that rude steps had -been devised in the mouldering brickwork, so that it was possible to -mount to the top. Once there, a sudden rush of oil-fumes and mingled -odours reached him, and he would have coughed but for the Mirza’s -imperative whisper ordering silence. Following his guide’s example, he -lay down on the slope of the dome, supporting himself by gripping with -his fingers the edge of the brickwork, over which he looked. He had -noticed that although from the ground the top of the dome appeared -roughly spherical, it was in reality flattened, and now he found that -this flat effect was caused by the absence of the concluding courses -of brickwork, which would answer to a key-stone, so that a round hole -was left for the admission of light and air. They could thus look -right down into the building, upon the actual tomb, marked by an -oblong slab of rough stone, immediately below them, and upon the men -whom they had seen entering, now seated on the floor in reverential, -expectant silence. The place was lighted by a number of smoking -oil-lamps, which revealed the rude arabesques in blue and crimson -decorating the walls, and brought out a gleam of shining turquoise and -white higher up, where were the remains of a frieze of glazed tiles, -and which were also accountable for the fumes which obliged Ferrers to -turn his head away every now and then for a breath of fresh air. -</p> - -<p> -After one of these interruptions, he became aware that a service of -some kind had begun. A voice was droning out what sounded like a -liturgy, and the congregation were kneeling with their foreheads to -the floor, and performing the proper genuflexions at suitable -intervals. Presently the Mirza grasped his arm again, and directed his -attention to the officiating reader. Ferrers could only discern him -dimly, and saw him, moreover, from behind; but presently it began to -dawn upon him that the figure was in some way familiar. The man was -very tall, and, for an Oriental, of an extraordinarily powerful build. -His flowing robes were of purest white, but his girdle was scarlet; -and round a pointed cap of bright steel, in shape like the fighting -headgear of the Khemistan Horse, he wore a scarlet turban. After a -time he had occasion to turn round, and Ferrers, with a thrill for -which he could not at first account, saw his face. Again there was -that impression of familiarity. The thick black hair, the bushy beard, -the strongly marked features, the keen eyes—Ferrers knew them all; -and when he realised what this meant, he was only prevented by the -Mirza’s arm from slipping off the dome. To find Major Keeling reading -Arabic prayers in a Mohammedan place of worship was a shock for which -nothing he had hitherto seen had prepared him. -</p> - -<p> -Presently the service came to an end, and the reader disappeared from -view. From the movements of the audience, it seemed that they were -grouping themselves round him at one end of the building; and, at the -Mirza’s suggestion, Ferrers slipped and shuffled round the dome until -he reached a point opposite to his former position. Here he could -again obtain a glimpse of the white and scarlet figure, seated now in -a niche in the end wall, with the congregation sitting before him like -disciples in the presence of a teacher. What followed was more or less -of a mystery to Ferrers, for it was difficult to see clearly, and -almost impossible to hear. All spoke in low voices, and the mingled -sounds rose confusedly to the opening in the dome. But it seemed -evident that reports of some kind were given in by certain of the -audience, whose attire showed them to belong to various tribes, or -even to different regions of Central Asia; that orders were issued, -and small strips torn from the teacher’s white robe blessed and -distributed among those present. All this was highly interesting; but -from what followed, Ferrers, whose religious sense was by no means -keen, drew back revolted. To see his Commandant breathing on the eager -hearers who crowded round him as he rose, or laying his hands on their -heads, according as they entreated a blessing or the favour of his -holy breath, was bad enough. But there were some who suffered from -bodily ailments, and the teacher must needs lay his hand upon the spot -affected and mutter a prayer; and for those who had sick friends at -home he must write charms on scraps of paper and mutter incantations -over them. Then, just as he was about to leave the place, a very old -man pushed forward and grasped his robe. -</p> - -<p> -“O my lord!” he cried, and his high quavering voice reached Ferrers -clearly, “strengthen the faith of thy servant. Months ago I disobeyed -thy commands, and sought a sign from thee in the daytime and in the -presence of the ignorant and the infidel. Thou didst pour scorn upon -me, such as I well deserved, but pardon me now. All those that are -here have seen thy power, save only thy servant. Only a little sign, O -my lord—to behold fire breathed from thy lips, or a light shining -round thee——” -</p> - -<p> -The teacher held up his hand for silence, and answered in the same low -voice as before. Though Ferrers strained his ears, he could not hear -what was said, but the Mirza was at his side. -</p> - -<p> -“The Sheikh says that he will show the faithful a new miracle,” he -whispered. “Many of them have seen him breathe fire, but now a sweet -odour, as of roses, shall suddenly encompass him, that they may know -the worth of his prayers.” -</p> - -<p> -“The odour of sanctity!” chuckled Ferrers, in mingled amusement and -disgust; and presently, rather to his astonishment, a faint but -distinct perfume of attar of roses made itself felt among the -oil-fumes which rose through the opening. To the crowd below the scent -must have been much more evident, and their expressions of joy and -wonder broke out loudly. The old man who had asked for a miracle flung -himself down in transports of delight, and kissed the ground before -the Sheikh’s feet, and there were urgent entreaties to be led forth at -once against the enemy, which were promptly refused. When the teacher -had disappeared from view, the Mirza touched Ferrers’ arm, and they -scrambled down the dome and crept to the side of the roof, where, -sheltered by the minaret, they looked over the edge. The red and white -of the Sheikh’s dress were clearly discernible, but it was not easy to -see what was going on among his supporters. As Ferrers’ eyes became -accustomed to the darkness, however, he perceived that a shallow grave -had been dug, and that a coffin was ready to be committed to it. He -looked round at the Mirza with horror. Were these men about to dispose -of the body of some member of their mysterious association who had -been false to his vows, and suffered for it? But the Mirza’s whisper -was reassuring— -</p> - -<p> -“It is the body of a man of Gamara, who died here yesterday. The -Sheikh will utter spells which will preserve it from decay, that when -the friends are about to return home they may take up the body and -bury it in the burial-place of his fathers in his own land.” -</p> - -<p> -The Sheikh’s incantations were lengthy, and before they were over the -Mirza and Ferrers descended the staircase again. As they passed the -loophole at its foot, the Mirza directed Ferrers’ attention to a -brazier filled with glowing charcoal which stood in a recess in the -opposite wall. -</p> - -<p> -“The Sheikh had smeared the wooden walls of the niche in which he sat -with attar of roses before the service began, and placed this brazier -here,” he said. “He knew that as the heat penetrated through the wall, -the perfume would make itself felt.” -</p> - -<p> -“Wily beggar! he leaves nothing to chance,” said Ferrers, and stopped -suddenly with sick disgust. The successful charlatan of whom he spoke -was a British officer, a man whose hand he had grasped in friendship. -</p> - -<p> -They groped along the passage, and slipped out noiselessly by the door -into the crowd of disciples. When the funeral was over the Sheikh bade -farewell to his followers, and mounted a black horse which had been -brought forward in readiness. Ferrers restrained himself with -difficulty from whistling to the horse. -</p> - -<p> -“If it was Miani, he might know my whistle,” he said to himself; “but -I can’t believe Keeling would use him on such a business as this.” -</p> - -<p> -The Sheikh rode off alone, and the assembly melted away quickly. -Ferrers and the Mirza picked their way down the path in silence, found -their ponies, and said nothing until they were at a safe distance from -the hills. Then Ferrers turned to his companion. -</p> - -<p> -“What does it mean?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“He that you have seen is the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, sahib. Whether he is -also any one else is for you to say.” -</p> - -<p> -“But is it possible that the man can be a British officer all day and -a Mohammedan fanatic at night? Who is the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, by the -way—not the old joker who lives in the hills to the west?” -</p> - -<p> -“The same, sahib.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what is he driving at? Who is he going to war with?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is not for me to say, sahib; but it may be that he designs to -conquer the nations even as far as Gamara.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers reflected. To Major Keeling, as to many British officers at -the time, the name of Gamara was like a red rag to a bull, and it was -one of their favourite dreams that one day a British Indian army would -sweep the accursed spot from the face of the earth. It was not -inherently impossible that, despairing of seeing the dream ever -fulfilled by constituted authority, Major Keeling should proceed to -make it a reality by methods of his own. But the means—the mummery, -trickery, dissimulation that were necessary,—how could he stoop to -them, and yet pose as an honourable man? -</p> - -<p> -“Have you ever spied there before?” asked Ferrers of the Mirza. -</p> - -<p> -“Often, sahib.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what have you seen at other times?” -</p> - -<p> -“Always the same sort of things, sahib—plannings and pretended -miracles. But I can show you more than this in another place, only it -may not be yet for a time.” -</p> - -<p> -“Let it be as soon as possible.” Ferrers rode on silently. It did not -occur to him to inquire what had suggested to the Mirza the idea of -spying on Major Keeling, or what result he hoped to gain from it. He -scarcely heard Fazl-ul-Hacq’s voice adjuring him not to breathe a -syllable about what he had seen until he gave him leave, for he was -asking himself a question. Next week he must go into Alibad for -Christmas, and meet Major Keeling at every turn. How could he treat -him as if he knew nothing of his proceedings? -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch08"> -CHAPTER VIII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">SEEING AND BELIEVING.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">When</span> Ferrers rode into Alibad next week, to spend his Christmas -there, his excitement had died down. He had not received the -additional evidence against Major Keeling which the Mirza had promised -him, and he understood that he must be content to wait for it. But he -had schooled himself into quietness since that eventful night by dint -of dwelling chiefly on the ridiculous side of what he had seen, and -found the recollection rather amusing than otherwise. He felt that he -could meet the delinquent without any inconvenient display of wrath, -and was prepared to enjoy to the full such Christmas festivities as -the resources of the station might provide. He wondered, with -something very like mirth, on what sort of footing he would find -himself with Penelope this time. Hitherto it had seemed as if he could -not remain in the same mind about her for two days together. But -surely it must be her fault, if she could not keep him faithful. No -doubt if he found her looking well and bright, more especially if the -other men seemed inclined to pay court to her, his suspended affection -would revive; but if she looked pale, and was too dull for any one to -care to talk to her, it was not likely he would wish to seek her out. -If she was no longer interesting, how could he possibly be interested -in her, and was he to blame that this was the case? -</p> - -<p> -Thoughts of this kind were vaguely forming themselves in his mind as -he rode, when a cloud of dust in front announced the approach of -another horseman, and presently resolved itself into Colin, his face -wearing a determined expression which told that, as his Covenanting -forefathers would have said, something was “laid upon his mind.” -Ferrers wondered what was the matter, but Colin said nothing until he -had turned his horse and they were riding side by side. Then he -inquired with startling suddenness— -</p> - -<p> -“Are you still in the same mind about Penelope as when we last talked -about her?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Colin, have you come out to ask me my intentions?” asked -Ferrers, much amused. -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not joking. If you feel as you did when you sent her that message -by me, I think the time is come to announce it openly. Do you feel -inclined to speak to her yourself on the subject?” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers shrugged his shoulders, and yielded, in his usual fashion, to -the influence of the moment. “I should be delighted, but how is it to -be managed? Lady Haigh watches over her like a dragon when I am -there.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will undertake Lady Haigh if you will seize your opportunity. -Penelope is unhappy in her present anomalous position, I am certain. -She distinctly gave me the impression that she had thought you unkind -and neglectful. Of course I defended you as best I could, but you -should have been there to speak for yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I thought it was Penelope’s own wish that I should keep my -distance?” -</p> - -<p> -“So I thought,” was the troubled answer; “but now I think it might -have been better if you had not held aloof quite so much. I may have -mistaken her—I was so anxious to bring you together again that I -would have agreed to almost any terms.” Ferrers laughed involuntarily, -but Colin’s forehead was puckered with anxiety. “Perhaps you should -have refused to take her at her word——” -</p> - -<p> -“Or at your word,” suggested Ferrers. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, perhaps if you had been more eager, refused to be kept at a -distance in this way, she might have liked it better. Women seem to -find some moral support in an engagement, somehow——” -</p> - -<p> -“What a young Solon you are, Colin! Well, give me a lead at the right -moment, and I’ll play up to it. So poor little Pen is miserable, is -she?” -</p> - -<p> -“She is not happy, and she won’t talk about you. She must think you -have treated her badly—don’t you agree with me? I daresay she has the -idea that I might have helped her more. I hope it will be all right -now, and that I am not wrong in——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, look here, Colin, don’t trot out that conscience of yours,” said -Ferrers, with rough good-nature. “We’re going to put things right, at -any rate, and you can’t quarrel with what you’ve done yourself,” and -Colin consented to leave the subject. He was honestly anxious to do -what was best for his sister, with an unconscious mental reservation -in favour of what he thought was best; and the barrier which the last -few months had raised between Penelope and himself was a real grief to -him. Penelope had learnt to carry her burden alone. Colin could not -understand why it should be a burden at all, and she could not confide -in Lady Haigh without seeming to accuse Colin. Her sole comfort -hitherto had been that Ferrers made no attempt to enforce what she -regarded as his threats in the message sent by Colin, and she looked -forward to Christmas-week with absolute dread. She hoped desperately -that he might still hold aloof; but this hope was destined to be -shattered as soon as he reached Alibad. -</p> - -<p> -Colin brought him up immediately to pay his respects to Lady Haigh, -who still held her court in the fort, for at the very beginning of the -rains one of the newly built houses had subsided by slow degrees into -its original mud, and Major Keeling would not allow the ladies to move -until the others had been tested and strengthened. Lady Haigh’s policy -was unchanged, it was evident. She kept the conversation general, and -made it clear that she would remain on guard over Penelope until -Ferrers was safely off the premises. But Colin had come prepared to -throw himself heroically into the breach. -</p> - -<p> -“I think Captain Ferrers and my sister have something to say to each -other,” he said, and offered his arm to Lady Haigh with formal -courtesy. “Perhaps you would not mind showing me the view from the -ramparts again?” -</p> - -<p> -No one was more astonished than Lady Haigh herself at her compliance -with the invitation; but, as she said later, when she was politely -handed out of her own drawing-room, what could she do but go? The one -glimpse she had of Penelope reassured her. The girl’s colour had -risen, and it was evident she resented her brother’s action, and was -not inclined to accept his ruling tamely. For the moment Ferrers was -the more embarrassed of the two. He fidgeted from one chair to -another, and then took up a book on the table near Penelope and played -with it, not noticing the start with which she half rose to rescue it -from his hands. It was a battered copy of Scott’s Poems, the pages -everywhere decorated with underlining and marginal notes. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, I believe you have got hold of the Chief’s beloved Scott!” he -cried. “He might have found a respectable copy to lend you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I should not have cared for that,” she replied. “It is his notes that -interest me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, you find the Chief an object of interest?” Ferrers looked up -sharply. “Do you see much of him?” -</p> - -<p> -“He comes in fairly often.” Penelope’s tone was curiously repressed. -“I think he likes to talk to—us.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what may you and he find to talk about?” -</p> - -<p> -“The province, chiefly. Sometimes the battles he has been in.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers laughed forbearingly. There was little need to fear a rival in -a man who could see a girl constantly for six months, and still talk -to her on military and civil themes at the end of the time. “And you -find that enlivening?” he asked. “Well, there’s no harm in it, but I -wouldn’t advise you to become too confidential with him. He’s not the -man you think him.” -</p> - -<p> -“I did not know I had asked your advice on the subject,” said Penelope -coldly. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, didn’t you? but you see I have a right to give it; and I tell you -plainly I don’t wish you to make an intimate friend of Keeling.” -</p> - -<p> -“Even supposing that you had such a right, I should never think of -bowing to it unless I knew your reasons.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you really wish me to give them? I thought you might prefer to go -on believing in your friend.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wish to hear the worst you can say of him, and I shall go on -believing in him just the same.” -</p> - -<p> -“Will you? I think not. What would you say if I told you I had seen -him, a week ago last night, playing <i>imam</i> at a <i>pir</i>’s tomb out near -the Akrab—reciting prayers, writing charms, pretending to work -miracles, and all the rest of it?” -</p> - -<p> -“A week ago last night?” said Penelope faintly. Then she pulled -herself together. “I should say you had been mistaken.” -</p> - -<p> -“Mistaken? Am I not to believe the witness of my own eyes?” -</p> - -<p> -“I would not believe the witness of my own eyes in such a case.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers wondered at the decision with which she spoke, not knowing -what was in her mind. On the night he mentioned, she had remembered, -while lying awake, that she had left the book she was reading—one of -Sir Dugald’s—on the ramparts. Fearing it would be spoilt by the dew, -she roused her ayah and told her to go and fetch it, but the woman -whimpered that she was afraid—there were always ghosts in these old -forts—and hung back even when Penelope said she would come too. They -reached the rampart safely, however, the clear starlight making a lamp -unnecessary, and rescued the book. As they turned to descend the steps -again, the pad of a horse’s feet upon the sand reached their ears, and -looking over the parapet, they saw Major Keeling ride past on Miani. -There was no possibility of mistake, and Penelope had never dreamt of -imagining that the rider in undress uniform and curtained forage-cap -could be any one but the Commandant. He was bound on one of his -restless wanderings over the desert, and her heart sent forth a silent -entreaty to him to be prudent. But now, as she said, she was willing -to disbelieve the evidence of her own eyes if it gave support to this -story of Ferrers’. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose you think I am a liar?” he demanded resentfully. -</p> - -<p> -“I think you have either made a mistake or been deceived. Do you -believe it yourself? What are you going to do.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers was nonplussed. He had disobeyed the Mirza’s injunction, and -spoken without waiting for the further evidence promised him. He might -have put himself into a very awkward position if Penelope should tell -any one of what he had said, and he decided to temporise. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course I should never think of saying anything about it. As you -say, it’s a case in which one can’t take seeing as believing. You -won’t say anything about it, of course?” -</p> - -<p> -“Is it likely?” demanded Penelope indignantly. Ferrers surveyed her -with growing interest, and became suddenly sorry for himself. -</p> - -<p> -“You flare up if any one says a word against the Chief, and yet you -believed a whole string of accusations against me, simply on Lady -Haigh’s word,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought you acknowledged they were true? At any rate, you did not -value my opinion of you sufficiently to take a single step to justify -yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -“What was the good? You were prejudiced against me. If you had cared -for me enough to give me a chance, it would have been different, but I -saw you didn’t, so I set you free.” -</p> - -<p> -“And bound me again the next morning.” -</p> - -<p> -“I had seen you by that time, and I couldn’t let you go. But what sort -of life have you led me since—keeping me at arm’s-length all these -months? Surely you might have been a little kinder——” Ferrers -stopped abruptly, for there was something like scorn in Penelope’s -eyes. “The fact is, you don’t care a scrap for me,” he broke out -angrily. -</p> - -<p> -“Why should I?” asked Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -For the moment he was too much astonished to answer, and she spoke -again, quietly, but with an under-current of indignation which drove -her charges home. “Why should I care for you, when you have never -shown the slightest consideration for me? Have you ever thought what a -position I should have been in, but for Lady Haigh’s kindness, when I -landed at Bab-us-Sahel? No, I know it was not your fault that the -letters miscarried; but you know you had no wish to see me when you -heard I had arrived. You were glad—glad—to be rid of the bond, and -so was I. And then you got Colin on your side—why, I don’t know—and -made him persuade me to renew my promise, because it would be a help -and comfort to you, and you could work better if you saw me now and -then. You have never been near me if you could possibly help it, and -for all the help and comfort I have been to you I might as well have -been at home. You may say I don’t care for you if you like, but I know -very well that you don’t care for me.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I do!” cried Ferrers involuntarily. “On my honour, Pen, I never -knew what there was in you before. You are the girl for me. I always -felt you could keep me straight, but it never struck me till now how -sharply you could pull a fellow up.” -</p> - -<p> -“You seem not to understand that I don’t want the task. I wish you to -give me back my promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t, then. Come, Pen, we shall have a week together now, and I’ll -show you I do care for you. Let’s forget all that’s gone by, and begin -again. I have fallen in love with you this moment—yes, by Jove! I -have”—he spoke with pleased surprise—“and we’ll be as happy as the -day is long.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t seem to see——” began Penelope, in a scared tone. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh well, if you are going to bear malice——” he spoke huffily. “I -hadn’t thought it of you. Why shouldn’t you let bygones be bygones, as -I do? Of course I haven’t been exactly what you might call attentive, -but I’m going to begin fresh, as I said, and you needn’t think I’m -going to let you go. My uncle will get me a post in Lower Khemistan, -in a nice lively station, with plenty going on; and I’ll cut the -Mirza, and you shall have a jolly big bungalow, and horses and -carriages, and get your dresses out from home. When shall we be -married?” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope’s eyes gathered a look almost of terror as she listened in -mingled perplexity and alarm. “I don’t want to marry you,” she said, -forcing her lips to utter the words. -</p> - -<p> -“Then you must want to marry some one else. Who is it?” -</p> - -<p> -For a moment she hesitated. Could she, did she dare, confess to him -the secret which she had only lately acknowledged even to -herself—that she had given her heart unasked to the keen-eyed swarthy -man who never talked to her of anything but war and work? To some men -it would have been possible to confide even this, but she felt, -rightly or wrongly, that with Ferrers it was not possible. She could -never feel sure that he would not in time to come fling her sorrowful -confession in her face, and use it to taunt her. She answered him with -desperate hopelessness, and, as she told herself, with perfect truth. -She had never had any thought of marrying Major Keeling. It would be -enough for her if their present friendship continued to the end of -their lives, or so she believed. -</p> - -<p> -“There is no one,” she said. “Can’t you understand that—that——” -</p> - -<p> -“That you don’t want to marry me?” cried Ferrers, laughing, his -good-humour quite restored. “No, Pen, I can’t. You’re feeling a little -sore now, because you think I’ve neglected you, but you shan’t -complain of that in future. I shall make furious love to you all this -week, and before I go back to that wretched hole we’ll announce the -engagement.” -</p> - -<p> -He was so gay, so well satisfied with himself, so utterly incapable of -understanding what she felt, that Penelope’s heart sank. She made a -final effort. “Please listen to me,” she faltered. “I ask you -definitely to release me from my promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“And I definitely refuse to do anything of the kind. There! is honour -satisfied now? You’ve made a brave fight—enough to please even Lady -Haigh, I should think—but it’s no good. The fortress has surrendered. -I’ll allow you the honours of war, but you mustn’t think you are going -to escape scot-free. Come!” -</p> - -<p> -She allowed him passively to kiss her, and then sat down again at the -table, utterly exhausted. “Please go away now,” she said. “I will tell -Lady Haigh of—what you wish, and no doubt she will arrange for you to -come here when you like. I will try—to be a good wife to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“You’d better!” said Ferrers gaily, as he departed. He was conscious -of a new and wholly unaccustomed glow of feeling—a highly creditable -feeling, too. He was actually in love, and with the very person who -would make him the best and most suitable wife he could choose. He had -not the slightest faith in the seriousness of Penelope’s resistance, -and felt genuinely proud of having overcome what he regarded as her -grudge against him. If she had only shown herself capable of -indignation and resentment earlier, he would have fallen in love with -her long ago. As it was, she might make their engagement as lively as -she pleased, and then settle down into an adoring fondness like -Colin’s, which would suit him admirably. Meeting Colin, he told him -the good news, adding that they had decided not to announce the -engagement for a week, as Penelope was still rather sore about their -past misunderstandings, and Colin hurried back to the fort, to find -Penelope with her head bowed on her arms on the table. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Pen!” he said in astonishment, “I hoped I should find you so -happy.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope raised her head, and looked at him despairingly. “Oh, Colin!” -was all she said. It seemed incredible to her that, after the long -years in which they had been all in all to each other, he could be as -blind as Ferrers to her real feelings. -</p> - -<p> -“But, Pen, is it right to imagine slights in this way? I know he may -have seemed cold, but he thought it his duty to hold aloof. And he has -worked so hard and so steadily at Shah Nawaz, looking forward to the -time when he might speak to you again. I am sure the thought of you -has helped him; I know it. And now you turn against him, when he needs -your help as much as ever.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t help any one, I am too weak,” moaned Penelope. “I want some -one strong, who can help me.” -</p> - -<p> -“A strong man would not need your help,” said Colin, in the slightly -didactic tone with which he was wont, all unconsciously, to chill his -sister’s feelings. Her heart protested wildly. She could help the -strong man of whom she was thinking, she knew, but the opportunity was -denied her. “George does need you,” Colin went on, “and will you -refuse to help him because he has wounded your self-love?” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t understand. We should never be happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“One must not think too much of happiness in this world—only of what -one can do for others.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know that, but still—— Colin, do you mean to tell me that if you -were married you wouldn’t want your wife to be happy?” -</p> - -<p> -“That is different,” said Colin, flushing. “If she was not, I should -fear it was my fault; but what has George done that you should not be -happy with him? He is a splendid fellow—his good temper and rough -kindness often make me ashamed of myself. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose not, if he thought about it,” said Penelope doubtfully. -“But oh, Colin, he doesn’t know when he hurts. You think only of him, -and he thinks only of himself, and no one thinks of me—except Elma. -I wish I had listened to her all along!” -</p> - -<p> -“If you are determined to be so uncharitable,” said Colin gravely, -“you had better break your promise, and send Ferrers about his -business. I could not advise you to do such a thing, but I quite allow -that my conscience is not a law for yours. I see no prospect of -happiness for you, certainly, while you are in your present frame of -mind. I think you have met with too much attention since you came to -India, Pen, and it has warped your judgment. But, as I said, don’t let -my opinion influence you.” -</p> - -<p> -He stood before her in his unbending rectitude, rigid and sorrowful, -and Penelope gave way. She could not add alienation from Colin to her -other troubles, and how could she tell him that in addition to her -personal distaste for Ferrers there was against him the insuperable -bar that he was the wrong man? -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t but be influenced by your opinion, Colin,” she said. “And I -never meant to say all this. Don’t let us refer to it again, please; I -shall not break my promise.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch09"> -CHAPTER IX.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">COUNSEL FOR THE PROSECUTION.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Ferrers</span> was very well pleased with himself. He had done his duty, -which had turned out, in a most unwonted manner, to be also his -pleasure, and he felt justly entitled to enjoy his Christmas holiday -to the full. It amused him immensely to see Lady Haigh forced to -countenance his constant presence at the fort, and his attendance on -Penelope whenever she went out. On learning the state of affairs, Sir -Dugald had absolutely and categorically forbidden his wife to do -anything that might lead to a second rupture of the engagement. Once -was enough, he said grimly; and, fume as she might, Lady Haigh judged -it well to obey. It could not be expected that the fact should improve -her temper, but Ferrers was in too complacent a state of mind to be -affected by her sharp speeches. He did not even fear that she would -succeed in prejudicing Penelope against him a second time, guessing -shrewdly that after one irrepressible outburst of disgust, she would -prefer to maintain silence on the subject, and in this he judged -correctly. Penelope’s anxious endeavours to do as he wished flattered -him pleasantly, and he reciprocated her efforts with a kindness which -had something of condescension in it. “Feeble as they are,” it seemed -to say, “you want to please me, and I will be pleased,” and Penelope -was too much broken in spirit to resent his attitude. She was not -altogether unhappy. Even in Khemistan there were at this season bright -bracing days, when a gallop over the desert could not but be a joy, -even though an unwelcome lover and an uncomprehending brother were -riding on either side of her. If at night she dedicated a few tears to -the memory of that vain dream of hers, it was only because it returned -to her in spite of her strenuous efforts to bury it. There was a kind -of restfulness in feeling that her fate was fixed without reference to -her own desires, and she was fervently anxious to be loyal to the two -young men who were both so willing for her to be absolutely happy in -their way. -</p> - -<p> -In his abounding self-satisfaction Ferrers thought less of Major -Keeling’s delinquencies than before, and as the days passed on without -any fresh instance of them, became inclined to let the matter drop. If -the poor beggar found any fun in dressing up as a native and -pretending to work miracles, why in the world shouldn’t he? It would -not affect Ferrers when he got transferred to another district, and -this might happen at any moment. Keeling must be a perfect fool to -have spent his time in Penelope’s society to such little purpose, and -might really be left to his folly. But in coming to this conclusion -Ferrers was reckoning without the Mirza, whom he had not brought with -him to Alibad. After what had passed, he could quite understand the -man’s desire to keep out of Major Keeling’s sight, and he accepted the -responsibility of turning aside any questions that might be asked -about him. But on the last evening of his stay, when he was in his -room at Colin Ross’s quarters, whistling gaily as he tried on the -emerald ring with which he intended to clinch his formal engagement to -Penelope on the morrow, a low tapping reached his ears from the back -verandah, and it flashed upon him at once that the Mirza was there. -With a muttered curse on the man for disturbing him, he put away the -ring and went out softly, to find his follower standing in deep shadow -by a pillar. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Salaam</i>, sahib!” was the Mirza’s breathless greeting. “Now is the -moment of which I spoke to you. I have watched and spied around -Sheikhgarh night after night, until at last I can show you the full -measure of Kīlin Sahib’s treachery.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, hang it all! I don’t want to go pottering about the desert -to-night,” said Ferrers angrily. “Why can’t you tell me what you’ve -found out?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, sahib, it is for you to see it with your own eyes. So far it is -only the sahibs who will turn their backs on the man. After to-night, -the Memsahibs also will draw away their garments from touching him.” -</p> - -<p> -The idea sounded promising. It would be good policy to be able to -prove to Penelope the reasonableness of the warning he had given her, -and which she had scouted, and he beckoned the Mirza in. -</p> - -<p> -“You have brought my disguise, I suppose?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sahib, and I have the ponies waiting outside the town. The moon -will not ride till late, so that we may hope not to run across Kīlin -Sahib on his way to Sheikhgarh.” -</p> - -<p> -“Defend me from ever leading a double life! It’s too much trouble,” -said Ferrers, with a yawn, for he was sleepy. What an immense amount -of riding Major Keeling must get through night after night, if he went -first westwards to Sheikhgarh and then eastwards to the Akrab! And how -in the world did he manage to cram so much activity into the daytime? -He must be able to do almost without sleep. It was really a pity such -a fine soldier and ingenious plotter should be such a rascal! “Why -don’t you go into partnership with Keeling Sahib, Mirza, instead of -showing him up?” he asked. “You two might rule Asia, he as Padishah -and you as Vizier.” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I a dog, to work with perjured men and those false to their salt?” -snarled the Mirza. Ferrers laughed unkindly. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, don’t try to come the righteous indignation dodge over me: I know -you a little too well for that. Now just touch up my face a bit. If -there’s a moon, it’ll be harder for me to pass muster if we meet any -one than it was by starlight.” -</p> - -<p> -The toilet completed, they slipped out, and, by dint of traversing -unsavoury alleys and skulking close under walls, managed to evade -various sentries and reach the desert unchallenged. The Mirza made -straight for the spot where he had picketed the ponies, and directed -their course rather to the south of the hill which commanded the town -on the west. The route on this occasion did not lead through the open -desert, but up and down hill-paths and dry nullahs, and Ferrers -wondered where they would find themselves at last. When they reached a -kind of cave in which the Mirza remarked that they must leave the -ponies, they were in a part of the hills with which he was totally -unacquainted, so far as he could tell in the darkness. The Mirza -seemed to know the way well, however; and warning him that the -slightest noise would be dangerous, as the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s servants -kept the neighbourhood closely patrolled, led him up what seemed a -goat-track in the rocks. He would not allow any loitering for rest, -saying that the moon would soon rise, and they must be in shelter -first, and by dint of great exertions they reached their goal in time. -It was a kind of ledge or shelf on the side of the cliff, overlooking -what seemed to be a pile of huge rocks below; but as the moon rose, -Ferrers perceived that the apparently shapeless masses were the rude -towers and buildings of a hill-fort. The site had been well chosen, -for, with the short range of the native matchlocks, it could not be -commanded from any of the surrounding hills. From his position Ferrers -could see between two of the towers down into the courtyard, and he -was startled to perceive a black horse standing saddled in front of -the building which represented the keep or chief apartments of the -place. The horse was held by a servant, and presently another servant -appeared with a torch, and a third brought a bag of food and a skin of -water, and fastened them to the saddle. Then, as Ferrers watched, -there appeared on the threshold the majestic figure in white and -scarlet which he had last seen at the <i>pir</i>’s tomb. The Sheikh turned -for a moment, apparently to give directions to several women, the -flutter of whose robes could be seen by the torchlight, and then came -out upon the steps, followed by three children, two boys and a girl, -whose ages might run from ten to twelve. All three kissed the Sheikh’s -hand, the boys holding his stirrup while he mounted, and he gave them -his blessing as he rode away. In the clear mountain air the opening of -the gate in the entrance-tower was plainly audible, and presently a -gleam of white and scarlet and steel beyond the fort showed that the -Sheikh was riding down the path. Ferrers stood up, in a state of anger -which surprised himself. -</p> - -<p> -“What does it mean?” he demanded. “Who are those children?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is for you to say, sahib. As for me, I have no doubt. They are the -children of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal.” -</p> - -<p> -“Which means that Keeling is married to a native woman, and they are -his children,” said Ferrers. “Is it conceivable that a man can be such -a traitor? False to his country and his race! I say, Mirza, let us go -after him and put an end to his treachery.” -</p> - -<p> -But the Mirza held him back. “Nay, sahib, it must not be. Has it not -often been told me that the way of the English is to do all things -slowly and according to forms of law? You know how the traitor can be -punished after the English manner; then do not act as would one of the -hill-people, which can only harm yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers saw the force of the reasoning, and followed his guide slowly -down the dangerous path. His mind was in a whirl. Marriages between -Englishmen and native women were far more common in those days than in -these, but Major Keeling was the last man he would have expected to -contract one. This, then, was the explanation of his insensibility -with regard to Penelope! But he had sat beside her, talked to her, -touched her hand, behaved like an honourable man who was free to seek -her if he chose, while only a few miles off his unacknowledged wife -and children were leading a secluded existence within stone walls. It -occurred to Ferrers that it would be a good idea to arrest them and -bring them to Alibad, there to confront Major Keeling with them -suddenly; and he asked the Mirza whether the fort was well defended. -The Mirza assured him that not only was the garrison ample for -defence, but watchmen were posted on all the hill-tops round, and it -was only by bribing one of these, over whom he had obtained some hold -in the past, that he had been able to reach the point of vantage they -had occupied. It was practically impossible to approach the place -undetected, he said, and before long there came a startling proof of -the truth of his words. Just before they reached the cave where the -horses had been left, Ferrers trod on a loose stone, which rolled down -the hillside with a terrifying clatter. Instantly a hail from the hill -on their left was answered by another from the right, and followed by -one from the fort itself. -</p> - -<p> -“Mount and ride for your life,” panted the Mirza to Ferrers, as they -stumbled into the cave. “There is no hope of escaping unnoticed now.” -</p> - -<p> -They had the ponies outside the cave in a twinkling, and were mounted -and riding down the path in another second. Stones rolled down under -the ponies’ feet, voices ran from hill to hill, and presently, when -the forms of the intruders were perceived, bullets began to fly around -them. Fortunately for Ferrers and the Mirza, the ponies were -sure-footed, and none of the Sheikh’s matchlockmen waited to take good -aim. They dashed out on the plain at last, unhurt, and from the nullah -behind them there rang out a last shot and a sharp cry, a man’s -death-cry. -</p> - -<p> -“The sentry who suffered us to pass,” remarked the Mirza casually. -“They have a short way with brethren who have been false to their -oaths, as I should know.” -</p> - -<p> -He seemed to feel he had said too much, and refused to answer Ferrers’ -eager questions as to when he had been a member of the brotherhood, -and why he had left it. They rode briskly back to the outskirts of the -town, and dismounted. The Mirza guided Ferrers through the byways to -Colin’s quarters, and left him there, carrying off his disguise for -safety’s sake, and Ferrers tumbled into bed and slept heavily. -</p> - -<p> -He did not wake till late, when he found the whole place in excitement -over the arrival of the mail. There were letters for him, but he -disregarded them all in favour of a telegram which had been forwarded -by boat and messenger from the point where the wires ended. It was -dated from Government House, Bab-us-Sahel, and came from his uncle, -announcing curtly that Mr Crayne was cutting short his Christmas -festivities on account of some complication which had arisen over the -affairs of a deposed native prince up the river. He considered that -his presence on the spot would enable the difficulty to be more easily -settled, and he was coming up the river by steamer as far as the -station which was the window by which the Alibad colony looked into -the larger world. He would be glad to see his nephew during his stay -there, and he was requesting Major Keeling to grant him a week’s -leave, which would be ample for the purpose. -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers’ feelings when he read the missive were mixed. Much depended -on this interview, and the impression he might make on his uncle. But -should he go to meet him as an engaged man or not? It was impossible -to tell what Mr Crayne’s mood at the moment would be, but the -probability was that he would find grounds for a grievance in either -alternative. On the whole, thought Ferrers, it would be better to -suppress all mention of Penelope until he had fathomed his uncle’s -intentions towards him. If he had no benevolent design in view, his -prejudices need not be considered; but if he had anything good in -store, it might be necessary to proceed with caution, and not reveal -the truth until Mr Crayne had seen Penelope and honoured her with his -approval. Ignoring his own former changes of feeling, Ferrers was now -sufficiently in love to feel certain that his uncle must approve of -her. -</p> - -<p> -With this in his mind he left the emerald ring in Colin’s charge, and -prepared for his journey, receiving a curt notice from Major Keeling -that the leave requested by his uncle was granted, riding out to Shah -Nawaz to inform the man who was taking his place that another week’s -exile was in store for him, and bidding farewell to Penelope and Lady -Haigh. Penelope was too much relieved to see him go to take any -offence at the postponement of the engagement, and Lady Haigh hailed -his departure in private as offering an opening for the “something -that might happen,” much longed for by herself, to prevent matters -going any further. Ferrers saw through her at a glance, and rode away -laughing. He had an idea that he might be able to induce his uncle to -pay a flying visit to Alibad and make Penelope’s acquaintance, and -then he remembered suddenly that he had in his possession information -that would bring Mr Crayne to Alibad if nothing else would. He had -given up the idea of extending mercy to Major Keeling by this time. He -wanted to see him disgraced, driven from the army and from the society -of Europeans, and forced to herd with the natives whose company it was -clear that he preferred. He had not a doubt that his uncle’s feelings -would accord with his, and he devoted a good deal of time while on his -journey to going over the different points of his evidence, and -deciding on the form in which he would present it. -</p> - -<p> -It was not until his second evening at Mr Crayne’s camp on the river -that he found his opportunity. The secretary and other officials who -were dragged in the Commissioner’s train, gathering that he would like -a talk with his nephew, had gladly effaced themselves on various -pretexts, and Ferrers and his uncle were left alone together. For some -time, while they smoked, Ferrers endured a bombardment of short snappy -questions, delivered in tones expressive of the deepest contempt, as -to his past career and his financial position, and heard his answers -received with undisguised sniffs. Then his chance came. -</p> - -<p> -“What d’ye think of that man of yours—Keeling?” demanded Mr Crayne. -</p> - -<p> -“He is—a fine soldier,” responded Ferrers guardedly. -</p> - -<p> -“What d’ye hum and haw like that for, sir?” Mr Crayne added a strong -expression. “I won’t be put off by puppies like you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have no wish to put you off, sir,” said Ferrers with dignity; “but -you will understand it is difficult to give a candid opinion of one’s -commanding officer.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll give you a candid opinion of him, if you like!” cried Mr Crayne. -“He’s the most arrogant, hot-headed, interfering, cantankerous fool -that ever wrote insubordinate letters to his superiors!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, is that all?” The nephew’s face wore a pitying smile. -</p> - -<p> -“All? What more d’ye want, sir? And what d’ye mean by grinning at me -like that, sir? I won’t stand impudence.” -</p> - -<p> -“And yet you have to stand Keeling’s? He is indispensable, isn’t he?” -</p> - -<p> -Another volley of strong language, which Ferrers understood to convey -the information that Mr Crayne would feel deeply indebted to any one -who would enable him to bundle Major Keeling out of the province for -good and all. When the flow of vituperation ceased for a moment, he -spoke— -</p> - -<p> -“I have been anxious to ask your advice for some time, sir. -Circumstances have come to my knowledge about Major Keeling——” -</p> - -<p> -“That would break him—smash him—if they came out?” gasped Mr Crayne, -becoming purple in the face. “Go on, boy; go on.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers began his tale, at first interrupted continually by what he -considered impertinent questions as to his relations with the Mirza, -his grounds for accepting evidence from him against Major Keeling, and -so on; but by degrees the interruptions ceased, and he was allowed to -finish what he had to say in peace. Then Mr Crayne chuckled. -</p> - -<p> -“I knew the man was a hot-headed fool, but I never thought he was a -double-dyed ass!” he cried triumphantly. “He’s set a trap for himself, -and walked into it. He might have written insubordinate letters till -he died, and not given me such a handle against him as this. What are -you looking horrified about, sir, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers disavowed the charge stoutly, though his uncle’s glee had set -his teeth on edge. “I don’t quite see——” he began. -</p> - -<p> -“Eh? What? Don’t see it? Don’t see that the fellow has personated this -Sheikh-ul-Jabal for ten years, and made away with the allowance he was -supposed to pay over to him? Used it to support his precious -black-and-tan family, of course. No, there’s no law against a man’s -marrying a black woman, or a dozen, if he wants ’em, and he’s at -liberty to become a heathen, for all I know, if he doesn’t force his -notions down other people’s throats; but embezzlement—that’s a -different thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, but—by Jove! this is disgusting,” said Ferrers. “I really don’t -think——” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, you’re young, and innocent, and romantic,” said his uncle, -drawling out the epithets, which Ferrers felt were quite undeserved, -with immense relish. “What does it matter if the man chooses to live -like a nigger when he’s off duty? Plenty of ’em do. But giving false -receipts for government money—that’s where we have him.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how can he have managed it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, it’s been cleverly done. I allow that. It must have begun with -that Nalapur affair ten years ago. Of course the real Sheikh-ul-Jabal -was killed with his brother-in-law Nasr Ali, and old Harry Lennox, in -his eagerness to get his conscience whitewashed for what he had done, -never took the trouble to see whether he was alive or dead, but -granted the allowance when it was asked for. And your fine Commandant -has simply pocketed it from that day to this!” -</p> - -<p> -“But how did he impose himself on the brotherhood and the Sheikh’s -followers?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why d’ye ask me? I wasn’t there. But we’ll call my secretary, and ask -him about the Mountain sect. It’s his business to get ’em all up, and -he’s a dab at finding out facts. Not that I let him think so. Here, -you sir, Hazeldean!” he raised his voice, “Come here!” -</p> - -<p> -The secretary came hurrying up, in evident perturbation. He was a -nervous-looking youth, with the round shoulders and hesitating manners -of the student, and gave the impression of having been waked from a -dream by a rough shock. -</p> - -<p> -“Why are you never at hand when you’re wanted, sir?” demanded Mr -Crayne. “It’s scarcely worth while asking you, but perhaps among all -the perfectly useless information you manage to stow away you may have -picked up something about the Sheikh-ul-Jabal and his sect?” -</p> - -<p> -“Indeed I have, sir. The subject has interested me very much since I -came to Khemistan, and learned——” -</p> - -<p> -“Then let’s hear what you know about it,” snapped Mr Crayne. -</p> - -<p> -“The Mountain brotherhood claims to be the direct survival of a -terrible secret society formed in Crusading times,” began the -secretary, as if he were repeating a lesson, “which furthered its -objects by the murder of any one who stood in its way. There were -seven stages of initiation, and in the lower the brethren professed -the most rigid Mohammedanism, but in the higher the initiates were -taught that good and evil were merely names, and all religions alike -false. Absolute obedience to the rule of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal was the -chief point in the vows taken, and when he ordered the removal of any -one, it took place at once. Some of the Crusading leaders were accused -of having entered the brotherhood, and this accusation was especially -brought against the Templars. The order seems to have existed in -secret ever since it was supposed to be stamped out, and the present -Sheikh-ul-Jabal is actually a pensioner of the Company’s, living -somewhere near Alibad, which was what attracted my attention to the -sect at first. Some writers think that the Druses——” -</p> - -<p> -“That’ll do,” said Mr Crayne curtly, interrupting the hurried -monologue. “I didn’t ask you for a lecture. Can you tell me the exact -membership of the order at the present time, or anything else that is -practical?” -</p> - -<p> -“I—I’m afraid not, sir. There are no means of ascertaining such facts -as that, I fear. But I believe an important book has been published in -Germany dealing with the sect, if you would permit me to order it for -you——” -</p> - -<p> -“No, I won’t. What good is a German book to any civilised man? You are -always ready to stock my library with books you want to read. You can -go back to your grinding, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -The secretary departed with alacrity, and Mr Crayne turned to his -nephew— -</p> - -<p> -“We see that the sect has always been willing to accept European -recruits, at any rate, which looks promising. The murder part of the -business has been dropped, apparently, or I should scarcely be sitting -here, after Keeling’s letters to me. Well, I shall pay a flying visit -to Alibad, and thresh the matter out. Must give the man a chance to -justify himself, though he’ll be clever to do it. If he offers to pay -back the money, I may have to let him retire and lose himself. If not, -there must be an inquiry. You’ll be prepared to give evidence, of -course?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s an awkward thing to witness against one’s commanding officer, -sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“What, trying to back out of it, eh? What d’ye mean, sir? I’ll have -your blood if you fail me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I could not remain in the regiment after it, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oho, you want to get something out of me, eh? Well, other regiments -won’t exactly compete for your services, either. It must be something -extra-regimental, then. What about the languages? I hear you used to -knock about among the niggers when you were down at the coast. Do any -good with it? Like to go to Gamara?” -</p> - -<p> -“In what capacity, sir?” -</p> - -<p> -“Governor-General’s agent, I suppose. They’re talking of sending an -envoy to hunt up that fool Whybrow. You know he’s disappeared? If you -come well through the business, you’re a made man.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers did not hesitate. Whybrow was not the only man who had entered -the Central Asian city and been seen no more. It was the dream of -every generous mind in India to force an entrance into the dungeons -there, and set the captives free. How proud Penelope would be of him -if he accepted and performed the coveted task! -</p> - -<p> -“I should like nothing better, sir,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I think I have influence enough to get you the appointment. But -you’ve got to do your work first, or I’ll break you.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch10"> -CHAPTER X.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">ARRAIGNED.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">What</span> can it be? Who is coming?” cried Lady Haigh, running out on -the verandah, as a horse galloped into the courtyard of the fort. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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 <i>burra -khana</i> 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.” -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>contretemps</i> that marred the evening -was not Lady Haigh’s fault. Major Keeling was summoned away to inquire -into a complicated case of <i>dacoity</i> and murder at a village some -miles off, and it was impossible for him to return in time to join the -party. -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -Every one was thunderstruck by this outburst, but to the general -astonishment it was Penelope who responded to the challenge. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -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.” -</p> - -<p> -“You have conquered that old bear, Elma!” said Penelope afterwards to -her friend. “I could never have made a joke of what he said.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly not, sir,” replied Ferrers with decision. “Quite the -contrary.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what has this to do with our affair? Who’s the fellow?” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, sahib,” said the Mirza unwillingly, “not Kīlin Sahib—it is the -other. He must not be found to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -“The other? What other?” -</p> - -<p> -“Him that you know of. Why make this pretence? The man must die, or -all our work goes for naught.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you will let Kīlin Sahib go free?” -</p> - -<p> -“Most certainly, if I can only convict him with the help of murder.” -</p> - -<p> -“And all that I have done—my services, my duty to those who sent me -forth—am I to have no satisfaction?” -</p> - -<p> -“You shall have a halter if you don’t take yourself off. Never let me -see your face again.” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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 <i>choti haziri</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“What can it be?” asked Lady Haigh breathlessly, forgetting her -dislike of Ferrers. “It must be something dreadful. They have been -quarrelling frightfully.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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——” -</p> - -<p> -“Keep cool, Major,” interjected Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” murmured Sir Dugald, as no one answered, “they ‘don’t believe -there’s no sich a person.’” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“By all means,” said Mr Crayne. “The course you suggest would be far -more effective than any amount of shouting.” -</p> - -<p> -“Wait until you are accused as I am before you talk of shouting,” was -the explosive answer. “Haigh, come with me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, what is it? what is it?” cried Lady Haigh and Penelope together -as the two men emerged from the room. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“Sheikh Sahib,” began Major Keeling impulsively; but he was -interrupted by an involuntary exclamation from Sir Dugald— -</p> - -<p> -“Why, the beggar’s the living image of you, Major!” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“This explains the mystery, then!” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -The Sheikh considered the request gravely. “Will the Commissioner -Sahib come here if I do not go to him?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have heard of him. But what if he should keep me a prisoner?” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“Wazira Begum,” said the Sheikh, “take the Sahib’s sword, and keep it -safely until I ask for it again.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch11"> -CHAPTER XI.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">JUSTIFIED.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">They’re</span> 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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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!” -</p> - -<p> -“He throws up the sponge, then!” chuckled Mr Crayne grimly. -</p> - -<p> -“Elma, what can you mean?” cried Penelope. “Major Keeling is not there -at all.” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“You see, Elma?” whispered Penelope triumphantly. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“Pen, an idea! I’ll send a <i>chit</i> 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. -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“And how long have you been the Company’s pensioner?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“I have eaten the Honourable Company’s salt for ten years, more or -less.” -</p> - -<p> -“And in all that time you have never presented yourself before the -Company’s representatives to express your gratitude?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is true. Nevertheless I have served the Company in many ways.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why have you never appeared at any of Major Keeling’s durbars?” -</p> - -<p> -“By reason of the vow which I swore. If the sun were shining on the -earth I should not be here now.” -</p> - -<p> -“And yet you take long rides at night?” -</p> - -<p> -“True. But is the sun shining then? Are durbars held at night?” -</p> - -<p> -“What object have you in these rides of yours?” -</p> - -<p> -“I am a <i>murshid</i> [religious leader], as the Commissioner Sahib knows. -I gather my disciples together and exhort them to good deeds.” -</p> - -<p> -“Are all the tribes of the desert your disciples?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, they follow but at a distance, in hope of the rewards of -discipleship.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you have promised them the plunder of Nalapur? Complaints reach -me continually of your intrigues.” -</p> - -<p> -“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 <i>gadi</i> 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?” -</p> - -<p> -“You must understand that in no case will you be permitted to invade -Nalapur from British territory.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why should I invade Nalapur? The Commissioner Sahib may be assured -that I will make no war without the consent of Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib.” -</p> - -<p> -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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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 <i>mohurs</i> of the Company’s money. Have I not need of -protection, then?” -</p> - -<p> -“What d’ye make of this, sir?” demanded Mr Crayne furiously of his -nephew, and Ferrers pulled himself together. -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“You let him go?” Mr Crayne’s voice was terrific. “And why, sir—why?” -</p> - -<p> -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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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! -</p> - -<p> -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. -</p> - -<p> -“You appear to have a great regard for Major Keeling?” he said -brusquely. “Why?” -</p> - -<p> -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?” -</p> - -<p> -“And do I understand that you have been of assistance to Major Keeling -in this work of his?” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“Then in what way have you helped him?” -</p> - -<p> -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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“It may be. I have heard as much,” was the indifferent answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Is there—are you aware of any relationship that would account for -it?” -</p> - -<p> -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?” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“Surely that is Kīlin Sahib’s horse? He is heavier than mine, but -save for that, they might be brothers.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p class="spacer"> -* * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -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— -</p> - -<p> -“The women are sharpening knives.” -</p> - -<p> -“So I hear,” replied the visitor. -</p> - -<p> -“It is to kill you,” the boy went on. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“Then you are not afraid?” pursued the boy. “I thought Englishmen were -all cowards. Wazira Begum says so.” -</p> - -<p> -“I fear your sister is prejudiced. Where did she pick up her -unfavourable idea of the English?” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“But it is my brother Ashraf Ali who would have to do it. The -Sheikh-ul-Jabal is not——” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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!” -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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. -</p> - -<p> -“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!” -</p> - -<p> -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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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——” -</p> - -<p> -“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?” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bring them in to Alibad,” suggested Major Keeling. -</p> - -<p> -“No, they are safer here, where no one is admitted without my orders. -But if evil should befall me——” -</p> - -<p> -“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.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch12"> -CHAPTER XII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">Come</span>! all’s well that ends well,” said Major Keeling to Sir Dugald, -as they rode into the town after escorting Mr Crayne back to the fort. -“I don’t remember ever feeling so happy before.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t wonder,” was the laconic reply. -</p> - -<p> -“But I do. After all, Ferrers’ charge was a preposterous one. Why -should I feel so extraordinarily glad to have cleared myself? The -relief seems out of all proportion to the trouble.” -</p> - -<p> -“I hope you are not fey, Major, as we say in Scotland?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you are asking whether I have a presentiment of approaching -misfortune, I never was freer from it in my life.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, it’s just the other way. You feel particularly happy, and you -can’t see any reason for it. Then you know that misfortune is on its -way.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, that’s what it is to be fey? Haigh, I’ll tell you what would have -been a misfortune—if your wife and Miss Ross had turned against me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think they’re fools?” growled Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“No; but the charge must have seemed very serious to them. By the way, -I don’t think they ever asked what the charge was, though!” He -laughed, a great ringing laugh. “They acquitted me on trust. On my -honour, Haigh, if those two women had believed me guilty, I should -have been ready to blow out my brains!” -</p> - -<p> -“The ladies ought to be flattered,” said Sir Dugald soberly. Major -Keeling gave him a sharp look, but he was gazing straight between his -horse’s ears, with an absolutely impassive face. No one looking at him -would have guessed that he was trying to break through his natural -reserve so far as to inform the Commandant of Penelope’s engagement. -What instinct impelled him to the effort he could not have told, and -the fear of committing a breach of confidence combined with his -Scottish prudence to keep his mouth shut. Major Keeling leaned over -from his tall horse and slapped him on the back. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t look so doleful, Haigh!” he commanded. “We shall see better -things for the frontier from to-day. The old man’s apology was really -handsome, and I like him better than I should ever have thought I -could like a civilian. I can even forgive Ferrers, if he doesn’t do -anything to put my back up again before I see him next.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald turned and looked at him in silence—a look which Major -Keeling remembered afterwards; but if he had at last made up his mind -to speak, his opportunity was gone, for Dr Tarleton came flying out of -his surgery to demand whether all was right. In spite of the secrecy -Mr Crayne had honestly tried to preserve, some rumour of the crisis -had got about through the gossip of the servants at the fort, and -every white man in Alibad felt that he was standing his trial at the -side of the Commandant. One after another dropped in at Major -Keeling’s office, all with colourable excuses, but really to learn the -news, and were received and sent on their way again with a geniality -that astonished and delighted them. Better days must indeed be in -store for the frontier if the Chief had time not to be curt. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald had gone round to the artillery lines after leaving the -office, and returned thither in the course of an hour or two, -expecting to find Major Keeling still at work; but the room was empty, -save for the presence of young Bigg, the European clerk, and the -native writers. Bigg looked up and grinned when Sir Dugald entered. -</p> - -<p> -“Want the Chief? He’s gone up to the fort.” -</p> - -<p> -“Already? Why, dinner isn’t for two hours yet.” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t say he had gone to dinner, did I? If you asked me, I should -say he had gone for something quite different. I heard him giving his -boy <i>gali</i> [a scolding] because his spurs were not bright. What does -that look like, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -“Looks to me as if you wanted your head punched. It’s like your -impudence to go spying on the Chief,” said Sir Dugald gloomily, but -Bigg chuckled unabashed. -</p> - -<p> -At the fort Lady Haigh, immersed in preparations for the dinner-party, -found herself suddenly addressed by Major Keeling. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss Ross is not helping you?” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“No, she was worn out after all the excitement this morning, so I made -her go and rest in the drawing-room with a book. I wanted her to be -fresh for to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then I will go and find her.” There was repressed excitement in his -manner, and Lady Haigh, looking after him, found herself confronted -with the question her husband had already faced. Ought she to tell -him? -</p> - -<p> -“No,” she said to herself, setting her teeth with a snap. “Dugald -forbade me to interfere in the matter in any way, and I won’t. And I -only hope the Major will be able to persuade her to have him and give -up Ferrers.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope, in the shaded drawing-room, lifted her heavy eyes from the -book she had obediently chosen, and saw Major Keeling’s tall figure -framed in the doorway. She had heard him ride up, had heard his voice -speaking to Lady Haigh, and had assured herself, with what she thought -was relief, that he would come no further. Mr Crayne had brought him -in, when he returned to the fort, and demanded the congratulations of -the ladies on his behalf, and what more could he have to say? But here -he was, entering the room with the care which had aroused Ferrers’ -derision months before, and trying to lower his voice lest it should -be too loud for her. -</p> - -<p> -“Shall I worry you, Miss Ross, or may I come and talk to you a little? -I feel as if I couldn’t work this afternoon.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t wonder,” said Penelope, surprising herself in a sudden pang -as she thought how splendid he looked. “Won’t you sit down?” -</p> - -<p> -To her surprise he took a chair at some distance from her, and seated -himself thoughtfully. “I am going to ask you to let me talk about -myself,” he said—“unless it would bore you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no!” she answered quickly. “I should like to hear it very much.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her with a questioning smile. “You know they call me a -woman-hater?” he said. “I wonder whether you agree with them? Don’t -believe it, please; it is not true. A woman-worshipper—at a -distance—would be nearer the truth. But I see you think I must be off -my head to begin in this way. Well, it was thinking of the way I was -brought up that made me do it. My mother died when I was barely three -years old: I can just remember her. When she died my father simply -withdrew from society altogether. It was said he had vowed never to -speak to a woman again: I don’t know whether that was true, but he -never did. It was easier for him than for most men to drop out of the -usual run of life, for he was not in the regular army. He had raised a -body of horse towards the end of the Mahratta Wars, and done such good -service that when they were over his commission was continued, and his -regiment recognised as irregular cavalry. But Keeling’s Horse was -never brigaded with other regiments. He had a <i>jaghir</i> [fief] of his -own from the Emperor of Delhi, and lived there among his men and their -relations, with only one other white man, his second in command. They -both fell in love with the same woman, the daughter of a King’s -officer, and agreed to draw lots who should speak to her first, the -loser to abide loyally by the lady’s choice. My father won, and was -accepted—though how it happened I don’t know, for my mother’s friends -swore to cast her off if she married him, and did it, too. The two of -them lived perfectly happily away from other Europeans, except poor -old Franks, whose friendship with my father was not a bit interrupted, -and when my mother died, those two chummed together again as they had -done before the marriage. They both kept a sharp eye on me, and -brought me up something like the Persian boys—to ride and shoot and -to speak the truth. I shall never forget the day when I came out with -something I had picked up from the servants—of course I was a -restless little beggar, always about where I had no business to be. My -father gave me the worst thrashing I ever had in my life, and he and -Franks rubbed it into me that I had disgraced my colour and my dead -mother. I feel rather sorry for myself when I remember that night, for -I knew my father’s high standard, and I felt as if I could never look -a fellow-creature in the face again. After that the two were always -consulting together, and at last they announced to me that Franks was -going to take me home and put me to school. That was how they settled -it: my father could not leave his people and his regiment, but Franks -took the business upon himself without a murmur, and he did his duty -like a man. The funny thing was, that we were almost as solitary on -the voyage and in England as we had been in India. Franks must have -grown out of the society of his kind,—I had never known it. We took -lodgings in a little country town; there was a school there -recommended by the captain of the Indiaman we came home in. I think -the country-people looked on us as a set of wizards, Franks and I with -our brown faces and queer nankeen clothes, and his boy who couldn’t -speak English. The boy cooked for us, and we managed to get along -somehow. I went to school, and hated the place, the lessons, the -usher, and the boys about equally. My only happy time was when I could -get home to Franks and talk Hindustani again. I suppose there must -have been kind people who would have been good to us if we had let -them, but we were both as wild and shy as jungly ponies, and they -seemed to give it up in despair. I think the general opinion was that -Franks had sold himself to the devil, and was bringing me up to follow -in his footsteps, and yet, except my father, I never knew a more -honourable, simple soul. Well, the years passed on, and we began to -feel that the end of our exile was at hand. When I was fifteen we -might come back to India, my father had said. And so I did go back, -but not poor Franks. Our last winter was a frightfully severe one, and -he fell ill. He gave me full directions about going back, sent -messages to my father, and died. The clergyman of the place was kind, -and it was only by piecing together what the people said as they -whispered and nudged one another when I passed that I learned they -grudged my dear old friend a grave in consecrated ground. However, the -parson put that right, and found some one who would take me up to -London and secure a passage back to India for me. This time I was so -desperately lonely that I made friends among the youths of my own age -on board as much as they would let me. They thought me rather a swell, -travelling with a boy of my own, and only a few of them turned up -their noses at me because my father was nothing but a commandant of -black irregulars, and lived away among the natives. There were several -ladies on board, but I never attempted to go near them. I should as -soon have thought of trying to make the acquaintance of so many -angels. When we reached Calcutta, I spent only a few days in the town, -and hurried up-country as fast as I could, for I heard tales of my -father that made me anxious. He had resigned the command of his -regiment two or three years before, on learning that it was to be -assimilated with the rest of the irregular cavalry, and people said -that he had become quite a native in his way of living. Very few had -ever seen him, for when travellers came in his direction, he had a way -of leaving his house and servants at their disposal, and retiring to a -garden-house at some distance, where he shut himself up till they were -gone. Well, I found him, and the pleasure of seeing me seemed to give -him new life for a while. He took me out shooting, and taught me all I -know of <i>shikar</i>. But he was not satisfied; he would not have me live -on among natives when he was gone, and suddenly he astonished me by -saying he had managed to get me attached as a volunteer to the —th -Bombay Cavalry. The Commander-in-chief was an old friend of his, and -had promised to nominate me for a commission on the first opportunity, -and meanwhile I was to pick up my drill and any other knowledge that -might be useful to me. This time I was fairly thrown out to sink or -swim, for I had no Franks to take refuge with when I was off duty, and -a pretty tough fight I found it. I got on well enough with my -comrades, though there has always been a prejudice against me for -entering the army by a backdoor, as they say, and it has been against -me with my superiors too. And then I was not the kind of chap who -makes himself pleasant and gets liked. I have always been a sort of -Ishmael, and I suppose I always shall be. As for the ladies—well, I -tried hard to get in with them at first to please my dear old father, -who had no idea that he and poor Franks between them had made me a -regular wild man of the woods. But I couldn’t do it. I could never -talk of things that interested them, or pay them compliments, or do -the things that it seemed natural to them to expect. One or two kind -creatures did take me in hand, but they dropped me like a hot coal, -and at last I gave it up. I got my commission in the end, and I told -my father I meant to marry my regiment. He agreed with me, I am glad -to say, for it was the last time I saw him. His <i>jaghir</i> lapsed to the -Emperor, for I was on the frontier by that time, and never meant to go -back to the jungle. My chance came when it fell to me to raise the -Khemistan Horse, and I knew I had found my place in the world. Sir -Henry Lennox put me here, and I have given all my thoughts and every -rupee I could lay my hands on to the frontier ever since. I made up my -mind almost at once that I would have no married men up here. A wife -was a drag to a man in such a service as this, I said, and even if she -was content to endure it, it was not fair to her. Then—you know the -way I was taken in about Haigh and his wife?” Penelope smiled. “Then -you came,” he went on, “and you were different from any woman I had -ever met. When I saw you first, I knew that you would help a man, not -hinder him, in his work, and you have helped me all these months. I -could talk to you of what I was doing and hoped to do, and you would -understand and sympathise. You can never guess what it has been to me, -and until this morning I thought there was nothing more I could want. -But it is not enough. I want more.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t! don’t! oh, please don’t!” entreated Penelope, covering her -eyes with her hands as he rose and stood over her. -</p> - -<p> -“You must let me finish what I have to say. I will speak very quietly; -I don’t want to frighten you. See, I will sit down again, quite at the -other side of the room. This morning it struck me like a blow, What -should I have done if you had believed me guilty? If it had been Lady -Haigh I could have stood it, though it would have cut me to the heart; -but it was not Lady Haigh whose sympathy had made Alibad a different -place to me. Then I remembered that the Haighs can’t remain here -always, and if they went away, you would go with them, and I should be -left here without you. But you have spoilt me for my old solitary -life. You have drawn my soul out to talk to you—I know it was not -your fault, you never meant to do it,” as Penelope tried to speak, -“but you can’t give it me back. I know I have nothing to offer you. I -am unpopular with my superiors and with the civil government; my life -is devoted to the frontier. I don’t know how I have the face to ask -you to think whether you could possibly marry me, but I only ask you -to think about it. Tell me when you have decided. I can wait. The only -thing I cannot bear is to lose you.” -</p> - -<p> -Utter misery and pent-up feeling combined to give Penelope’s words a -thrill of bitterness. “If you have only felt this since the morning, -it cannot hurt you much to lose me,” she said. -</p> - -<p> -He rose and came towards her again. “I think I have felt it all along -without knowing it,” he said. “It is as if I had been looking for -something all my life, and had found it to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, if you had only spoken sooner, I might have stood out against -them!” The words were wrung from Penelope, but she crushed down her -pain fiercely. “No, no, I did not mean that,” she said hastily. “It is -too late, Major Keeling. There is some one else.” -</p> - -<p> -“Some one to whom you are engaged?” She bowed her head. “Forgive me -for boring you so long, but I had no means of knowing. It is Porter, -I suppose? He is a fine fellow. I hope you will be very happy; I -believe you will.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is not Captain Porter,” said Penelope. She must tell him the -truth, or he might congratulate Porter—poor Porter, who had proposed -to her and been refused three months ago. Her voice fell guiltily. “It -is Captain Ferrers.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ferrers! Not Ferrers?” He repeated the name, as if the idea was -incredible. “It cannot be Ferrers. Why, you can’t know——” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I know; but he is different, he has given it all up. He says I -can help him, and I have promised to try.” -</p> - -<p> -“But it is not fit. He is no more worthy of you—— Of course I am not -worthy either, but still—— I must speak to your brother. Who am I to -say that I am better than Ferrers? But I can’t see you sacrificed. -Your life would be one long misery.” -</p> - -<p> -“Please, please say nothing. Oh, forgive me, but don’t you see you are -the one person who ought not to interfere?” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her with something of reproach. “If it set up an eternal -barrier between you and myself, I would still try to save you.” -</p> - -<p> -“But indeed, it is no use speaking to Colin. I have promised——” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you care for this man?” he interrupted her. -</p> - -<p> -“I have promised to marry him in the hope of helping him, and I shall -keep my promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t care for him. You have not even that hold over him, and how -do you think you can do him any good?” -</p> - -<p> -“He thinks I can, and I have promised. I am bound by that promise -unless George Ferrers himself gives me release, and he won’t.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’ll wring it out of him.” -</p> - -<p> -The growl, like that of an angry lion, terrified Penelope. She laid -her hand on her champion’s arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Major Keeling, I ask you—I entreat you—to do nothing. It is my own -fault. Elma Haigh warned me against Captain Ferrers, and if I had -listened to her, I should never have renewed my promise. But it is -given, and I must keep it. One can’t wriggle out of a promise because -it turns out to be hard to keep. You would not do it yourself; why -should you think I would?” -</p> - -<p> -He took her hand and held it between his. “Do you ask me,” he said -slowly, “to stand by, and see you give yourself to a man who at his -best is well meaning, but generally isn’t even that? It’s not as if -you cared for him. You might manage to be happy somehow if you did, -but as it is——” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t make it harder for me,” entreated Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“Am I doing that? Heaven knows I don’t want to, unless I could make it -so hard you couldn’t do it. Why, it’s preposterous!” he broke out -again. “That you should feel bound to sacrifice yourself——” -</p> - -<p> -“Is a promise a sacred thing to you? You know it is. So it is to me. I -must keep it, but you can make it much harder to do.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will do anything in the world that will help you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then please go away, and never speak of this again.” Penelope’s -strength was exhausted. In another moment she must break down, she -knew, and if he pleaded with her again, how could she resist him? He -seemed about to protest, but after one look at her face, he dropped -her hand and went out. She moved to the window, and watched him -between the slats of the blind as he mounted Miani and rode away. -Would he ride out into the desert, she wondered, and try to rid -himself of his grief in the old way? But no, he turned in that -direction at first, but almost immediately took the road to the town -again. If he were absent from the dinner-party that night, she might -be questioned, as the person who had seen him last, and he must do -nothing that might reflect on her. He rode to his own house, and going -into his private office, sat down resolutely at his desk and pulled -out paper and ink. He had been promising himself a controversy with no -less a person than the Governor-General, a fiery, indomitable little -man of a type of character not unlike his own. Lord Blairgowrie had -observed, in a moment of irritation, that every frontier officer in -India was a Governor-General in his own estimation, and would have to -be taught his mistake, whether he were Major Keeling, C.B., or the -latest arrived subaltern. An injudicious friend—he possessed a good -many of these—had passed on the remark to Major Keeling, who had been -prepared to resent it in his usual style. But on this occasion he got -no further than writing, “To the Right Honourable the Earl of -Blairgowrie. My Lord——” It was no use. The caustic words he had been -turning over in his mind would not come. His thoughts were running on -a very different subject, and he pushed away the pen and paper, and -buried his face in his hands. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch13"> -CHAPTER XIII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">THE DIE IS CAST.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">How</span> long Penelope sat in the drawing-room, staring with stony eyes -straight before her, after Major Keeling had gone out, she did not -know, but she was roused at last by hearing another horseman ride into -the courtyard, and walk across the verandah with clinking spurs. She -could not face any one just now, whoever it might be, and she ran to -the door, intending to take refuge in her own room, but found herself -confronted by Ferrers, who broke into a cheerful laugh. -</p> - -<p> -“Just the person I wanted!” he cried. “Now, don’t run away.” -</p> - -<p> -“I—I must,” she faltered. “It’s time to dress for dinner.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, it isn’t, not even for me, and I have to go to my quarters and -get back here. I want to speak to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“But have you arrested that man—your munshi?” -</p> - -<p> -“No; he knew better. Went back and collected his belongings, and made -himself scarce. We shan’t see any more of him, so it’s all right.” -</p> - -<p> -“All right, when he brought false charges against Major Keeling, and -tried to support them by murder? How can you say so?” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, the poor wretch was very useful to me, and I never had any -reason to complain of him. Of course he’s done for himself now, but -I’m glad I haven’t got to hunt him to earth. Why shouldn’t he get away -if he can? Now, don’t look horror-struck and reproachful. It isn’t as -if I had helped him off, even. He was gone long before I got there, -and I left orders that he should be arrested at once if he showed his -nose about the place. What more could I do? You women are so -vindictive. You’re as bad as my uncle. He rode out to meet me with -Colin, and his language was quite disgraceful when he heard the Mirza -had decamped. I knew Colin would feel called upon to testify in -another minute, so I told him to ride ahead with the escort, while I -had it out with my respected relative.” -</p> - -<p> -“But I don’t understand. What made him so angry?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, of course he wants the Mirza caught and punished, lest people -should say he had employed him to trump up a false charge against -Keeling. And so he turned regularly nasty to me, and said I had got -him into a most unpleasant position, and in future I might go to the -dogs in my own way, for he washed his hands of me. When he became -offensive like that, I thought it was time to open his eyes a bit, and -I did. I told him he had ruined my prospects here by coming and trying -to make a tool of me to satisfy his grudge against the Chief, and I -wasn’t going to be thrown aside now. It was all very well for him to -fall into Keeling’s arms and swear eternal friendship; but if that -friendship was to remain unbroken, my mouth would have to be shut. He -had got me to bring charges against my commanding officer, promising -me protection, and if I chose, I could show up a very pretty little -conspiracy for getting Keeling out of the province——” -</p> - -<p> -“But surely”—gasped Penelope—“you believed in the charges yourself? -and Mr Crayne too?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course we did. It was the Mirza who played us false, but that has -nothing to do with it. It’s my uncle’s business to cover the retreat -of his own forces, and so I told him, and he swore he’d never lift a -finger to save me from being hanged. So then I tried him with you. -He’s taken rather a fancy to you, you know, and I gave him a hint last -night how things were. So I told him I knew you’d never drop me, -whatever happened, and asked him how he’d like to see you sticking to -a disgraced man, and marrying him upon nothing but debts. Of course he -said if you were such a silly fool as to do it you’d deserve what you -got, but I could see he was a bit waked up. He cooled down by degrees, -and at last we came to an agreement. He’s to put matters right with -Keeling, so that I can stay on here for the present, and as soon as -possible he’ll put me into an extra-regimental appointment of some -kind. He may be able to get me sent as envoy to Gamara. What do you -think of that?” -</p> - -<p> -“Gamara—that dreadful place? Oh no!” -</p> - -<p> -He laughed, with some condescension. “Why, of course it’s the danger -that makes the post such a splendid thing to get, little Pen.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wasn’t thinking of the danger. It is the frightful wickedness of -the place.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you couldn’t trust me there! What a flattering opinion you have -of me! But that doesn’t signify. Look here, Pen, I want our engagement -announced to-night. My uncle will do it at the dinner-party; he was -quite pleased with the idea. Here’s the ring I’ve been keeping for -you. Let me put it on.” -</p> - -<p> -But Penelope drew back from him. She had endured much, but this was -impossible. To sit at dinner between Major Keeling and Ferrers, and be -the subject of the congratulations, toasts, and jests which the -suggested announcement would involve, conscious all the time that the -heart supposed to belong to the one man had been given to the -other—how could she stand it? She spoke with indignant decision. “No, -you must wait till to-morrow. You may make your announcement to-night -if you like, but I shall not appear.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense, Pen! What do you mean? What would the fellows say?” -</p> - -<p> -“They may say and think what they please, but if the slightest -allusion is made to anything of the kind, I will never speak to you -again. I won’t wear your ring. Take it back, or I will throw it away.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, of all the——!” Ferrers was puzzled and slightly alarmed. -“There’s no need to fly out at me like a little fury, Pen. If you -don’t want the engagement announced to-night—why, it shan’t be, of -course. But what am I to say to my uncle?” -</p> - -<p> -“Anything you like. Say I don’t feel well. Tell him it was the -eclipse, if you want an excuse.” She laughed mirthlessly. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, very well; but I hope you’re not going to take up fancies, and go -on like this——” -</p> - -<p> -“If you are not satisfied, you have only to release me from my -promise.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not I. If you said you hated me I’d marry you just the same, and you -don’t quite do that, do you?” -</p> - -<p> -Her gleam of hope had vanished. Ferrers’ smile showed he had no -intention of releasing her, and she wished with impotent rage that she -could give him the faintest idea of the utter repulsion, the loathing -dislike, with which he inspired her. But he would not see it for -himself, and she would not stoop to entreat her freedom again. With a -laughing recommendation to get a little colour into her cheeks before -the evening, he left her, and she was thankful to be allowed to -escape. -</p> - -<p> -The evening was a terrible one to her, although she had foreseen that -it would naturally fall to Major Keeling to take her in, as the only -lady in the place besides Lady Haigh. The Chief was in one of his -black moods, so the other men whispered to one another; and Penelope -sat beside him through the stages of that interminable dinner, and -waxed desperate. He could do much for her sake, but he could not speak -and act as if the interview of that afternoon had never taken place, -and he said barely a word during the meal, while the settled gloom in -his eye when it rested upon Ferrers terrified Penelope. She threw -herself into the breach, talked nonsense with the other men, as if -despairing of getting a word from him, tried manfully to cover his -silence, and knew all the time that she was wounding him afresh with -every word she spoke. As soon as she and Lady Haigh were in the -drawing-room she went straight to her guitar-case, and, getting out -the instrument, tuned it to the utmost pitch of perfection. Presently -Lady Haigh, who had been watching her anxiously, came and tried to -take the guitar out of her hands. -</p> - -<p> -“You mustn’t sing to-night, Pen,” she said; “I’m going to make you -rest quietly in a corner.” But Penelope resisted her efforts. -</p> - -<p> -“No, Elma,” she said. “I am going to sing the whole evening. If you -want to help me, ask for another song whenever I stop—only not sad -ones. Otherwise——” -</p> - -<p> -The entrance of the men prevented the rest of the sentence, and Lady -Haigh could do nothing but obey. She was conscious of the thundercloud -on Major Keeling’s brow, and thought she could guess at its cause; but -she seconded Penelope’s efforts nobly, scouted any sad songs that were -suggested, and made the gentlemen agree with acclamation that Miss -Ross had never sung with such archness and expression in her life. In -her mind was running a line from one of the songs which Penelope had -laid down with a shudder,— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“Go, weep for those whose hearts have bled</p> -<p class="i1">What time their eyes were dry,”—</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -and she knew that the only chance was to leave her not a moment for -thought. It did not surprise her when, after the guests were gone, -Penelope took up the guitar once more, and deliberately snapped the -strings one after the other. It would be long before she could touch -it again without living through that evening’s agony afresh. -</p> - -<p> -Morning came, and with it Ferrers, but by no means in a lover-like -frame of mind. His feelings were deeply injured, and he was full of -grievances. After leaving the fort the night before, his comrades, -taking their cue, as they considered, from Major Keeling, had all but -cut him. It had been understood that Ferrers had made a full apology, -and expressed his deep regret for the charges he had brought, and that -Mr Crayne’s mediation had induced the Commandant to overlook the -matter. But Major Keeling’s attitude at the dinner-party, his apparent -inability to address a single word to Ferrers, had given the other -officers a welcome opportunity of marking their sense of the younger -man’s conduct. Ignorant as they were, and as Ferrers himself was, of -the new cause of quarrel between the two, they came to the conclusion -that his behaviour had been so unpardonable that only the strongest -pressure from Mr Crayne had prevailed upon Major Keeling to overlook -it even officially, and in their loyalty to their Chief they hailed -the chance of copying his demeanour. The faithful Colin, who was much -perplexed by Major Keeling’s uncharitable behaviour, and almost felt -impelled to remonstrate with him, was the only exception, and managed, -quite unintentionally, to fan the flame of Ferrers’ indignation by the -fulness of his sympathy. Fortunately for Penelope, Ferrers had not -time to recount his ill-treatment at length, and was only concerned to -have the engagement fully recognised before he started to escort his -uncle back to the river. -</p> - -<p> -“Now, Pen,” he said as he came in, without troubling himself to bid -her good morning, “I must have this thing settled. My uncle wants to -see you before he goes, so don’t try and play fast and loose with me -any more.” -</p> - -<p> -Silently Penelope held out her hand, and he put the ring on her -finger, only to find that it would not stay on. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, your hand must have got thinner since I had the ring made!” he -cried, taking the fact as a personal injury. “And I wish you wouldn’t -look so white and washed-out. It was quite unnecessary for you to sing -so much last night—though of course it was just as well to try to -cover Keeling’s bearish behaviour as much as possible—and naturally -you’re tired after it. This place doesn’t suit you, I’m certain.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will wind some silk round the ring to keep it on,” said Penelope -wearily; “and I shan’t sing any more, George.” -</p> - -<p> -“While I’m away, do you mean? How fearfully touching! Well, you won’t -see much of me for some time now. I mean to go back to Shah Nawaz and -see if I can’t do something to cut the ground from under the feet of -these fellows who think they’re too good to speak to me. Then I shall -be off to Gamara, and when I come back we’ll be married, and my uncle -will find me a berth somewhere. Hang it, Penelope! can’t you look -pleased? I never saw such a girl for throwing cold water on -everything. You know how fond I am of you, and how I want to have a -good position to give you, and you don’t care a scrap! I might as well -be going to marry a statue.” -</p> - -<p> -“I am very sorry,” she said, screwing up her courage for the effort, -“but you know how it is. I have asked you to release me, and you -refuse.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, it’s that again, is it? You’re trying to work on my feelings by -looking pathetic? Then just understand, once for all, that I won’t -release you, and it’s no good trying to drive me to it. You haven’t -the least idea what it means to a fellow to be really in love with a -girl; but I can tell you this, that I won’t give you up to any man -alive—do you hear?—to any man on earth. So you may as well make up -your mind to it.” -</p> - -<p> -Did he suspect? Penelope could not decide, but she resigned her hope -of freedom once more, and allowed him to take her to his uncle, who -received her very kindly, and promptly despatched Ferrers to see -whether things were nearly ready for the start. -</p> - -<p> -“I wanted to say this to you, my dear,” he said, with obvious -embarrassment, “that you’ll be wanting to send for pretty things from -home, and I should like you to look upon me as your father for the -occasion. Young brothers don’t know anything about gowns and fallals, -do they?” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope looked at him, unable to speak. Pretty things from home for a -wedding at which sackcloth and ashes, or the deepest mourning, would -be the only wear that could accord with her feelings! The old man -misunderstood her look. -</p> - -<p> -“There, there! don’t thank me, my dear. I’ll settle it with your -friend Lady Haigh, but I thought you might like to know. Pretty gowns -for pretty girls, eh? And I’m doing it with an eye to my own -advantage, too. Don’t stint yourself in frocks, Miss Pen. I rather -want a lady to do the honours down there at Government House. What if -I gave George some post that would keep him at Bab-us-Sahel, and you -two set up housekeeping with the old man, eh? How would you like that, -my dear? Better than the frontier, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope owned to herself frankly that it was. Latterly the -possibility of finding herself alone with Ferrers in some isolated -station, with no other Europeans within reach, had weighed upon her -day and night. In Mr Crayne’s house, eccentric as he might be, she -would find protection if she needed it. She did not ask herself from -what she would need protection, or renew the useless reflection that -the prospect in which she expected to need it was hardly a hopeful -one. She looked up at Mr Crayne again. -</p> - -<p> -“I should like it much better,” she said; “and it is very, very kind -of you to think of it.” -</p> - -<p> -Mr Crayne did not seem wholly satisfied. Perhaps it struck him as -strange that his company should be welcome in the circumstances. He -pushed back Penelope’s hair, and kissed her forehead. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear,” he said, “the pleasure will be wholly mine. And if George -beats you—why, I shall be at hand to interfere, you see.” He looked -for a laughing, indignant denial, but Penelope started guiltily, and -flushed crimson. For the moment she felt as if he had read her secret -thoughts. “My dear,” he cried, in real alarm, “I don’t think you are -quite happy about this. What is it?” -</p> - -<p> -But Penelope had regained her self-possession. Bad as the state of -affairs might be, she had too much loyalty to discuss it with Ferrers’ -uncle. “I am going to try to be happy,” she said, looking him straight -in the face. “And Captain Ferrers is satisfied.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, George is satisfied, and so he ought to be, lucky young dog! -Found a wife much too good for him, eh? I don’t mind saying that -George has disappointed me in the past; but with you to help him, my -dear, he must do well. And you mean to keep him in order, eh? So much -the better! Why, there he is clinking his spurs outside. Thinks I’m -encroaching on his privileges, eh?” -</p> - -<p> -Bestowing a second kiss on Penelope, Mr Crayne left her to his nephew, -and went out to see the camels loaded, and incidentally to wrestle -with his misgivings, which were difficult to banish. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s Keeling if it’s any one. I thought so from the first, and his -face last night makes it almost certain. And the girl ain’t happy -either. But why should I look after Keeling? He’s old enough to manage -his own affairs. No one could expect me to take his side against -George. Besides, this is George’s one chance. If any one can keep him -straight it’ll be a woman. Keeling can get on all right by himself. -Daresay the girl sees it. She seems to have made up her mind—wouldn’t -thank me for interfering. Hang it all! I’m not going to interfere, if -she’s willing to take George in hand. Must think first of one’s own -flesh and blood.” -</p> - -<p> -And his meditations having thus led him, by a somewhat different -route, to much the same conclusion as that which Colin had long ago -reached, Mr Crayne bade his scruples trouble him no more. -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -Four days later Ferrers dropped in at the fort again, on his way back -to Shah Nawaz, after leaving his uncle at the river, and was asked to -stay to tiffin. The invitation was given, with impressive solemnity, -by Sir Dugald, Lady Haigh having flatly refused to offer Ferrers any -hospitality. She would have liked to see him forbidden the house, and -urged that Penelope would be much happier if he were, to which Sir -Dugald replied that in that case it was a pity she had promised to -marry him, but that it was not her hostess’s business to keep them -apart. The Chief had accepted the man’s apology, considering that he -had acted in good faith, and it was impossible to go behind his -decision. Nothing could have been more correct than Sir Dugald’s -attitude, nothing more heroic than his efforts to treat Ferrers as he -might have done any other comrade; but the old frank friendliness was -gone. Come what might, Ferrers had put himself out of the circle of -those who loved to call themselves “Keeling’s men.” It was not merely -the charges he had brought, but the attitude of mind that they -revealed—the readiness to admit the possibility of a stain on Major -Keeling’s honour—which had made the difference. Sir Dugald’s anxious -cordiality and laborious attempts to make conversation on indifferent -topics confirmed the impression produced by the scarcely veiled -aversion of the other men the night of the dinner-party, and showed -Ferrers that he had committed the unpardonable sin of the frontier. -Many things could be forgiven, but not a want of loyalty to the -leader. From henceforth he was an outsider. -</p> - -<p> -Out of sheer pity for Penelope, Lady Haigh softened so far as to -second her husband’s efforts, and do her best to make the meal less -uncomfortable, but the harm was done. Ferrers had come in excited, -brimful of some news which he was anxious to tell, but withheld in -order that he might be pressed to tell it, until the constraint by -which he found himself surrounded sealed his lips. It was no better -when he was alone with Penelope afterwards. She did all in her power -to make him feel himself welcome, and questioned him on every point of -his journey, with the double object of convincing him of her interest -in him, and of keeping Major Keeling’s name out of the conversation. -It was far easier not to mention him at all than to hear him -belittled, and she knew Ferrers’ opinion of him by this time. But her -efforts to please her lover were vain, perhaps because of this very -reservation, and Ferrers expressed his disappointment to Colin as they -rode out of the town together. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s pleasant to feel that there’s some one who cares for one’s -news,” he remarked. “You could guess I had something to tell, couldn’t -you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I was sure you had news of some sort. Well, what is it?” -</p> - -<p> -“I gave Penelope a hint of it the other day, but she didn’t seem to -take any interest,” Ferrers grumbled on; “and to-day again—I said I’d -tell her about it if she’d ask me nicely, but she wouldn’t. There’s no -meeting you half-way with Pen; one has to make all the running -oneself. She doesn’t care what happens to me; but when I said that as -soon as we were married we would drop that fellow Haigh and his ugly -wife, she looked ready to cry.” -</p> - -<p> -“She and Lady Haigh are great friends,” said Colin, anxious to make -peace, “and they have both been very kind to her. You would not wish -her to be ungrateful, surely? But I haven’t heard your news yet.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ride as close to me as you can, then. I don’t want those sowars of -yours to hear. Well, then, my chance is in sight at last. I know where -to find Shir Hussein!” -</p> - -<p> -“The outlaw?” asked Colin, rather disappointed. -</p> - -<p> -“Of course. And I mean to catch him and his gang, and so leave -Khemistan in a blaze of glory. You shall have a share in it, because -you’re the only fellow that has treated me decently over this -business. The rest will look pretty blue when they hear about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But where is he? Is his band a large one?” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers looked round mysteriously. “A good deal bigger than most -people think. No wonder he has given us so much trouble! But he makes -his headquarters in one of the ruined forts in my district, not so far -from Shah Nawaz. The fact is, that’s why he has gone free so long—I -never thought of looking for him there. But one of my spies met me on -my way back from the river with the news, and the joke of it is that I -know the place. I camped there for a week once, trying to get some -shooting. Well, you see, since I know my way about there, we can do -with a much smaller force than would otherwise be needed. I shall have -to ask for some help from here, which I should hate if Porter or -Haigh, or Keeling himself, had to come too, but I shall only ask for a -small detachment with you in charge. Then we’ll astonish them all.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why don’t you want the Chief or any one to know about it?” -</p> - -<p> -“They’ll have to know that I want help to capture Shir Hussein, -unfortunately, but I don’t want them to know what a stiff job it is -until it’s over. Don’t you see that they would do me out of the credit -of it if they could? They’re jealous of me—horribly jealous—because -I happen to be the Commissioner’s nephew. Can I help it? Is it my -doing if he gets me a post somewhere else? I didn’t come here because -I liked the frontier—merely as a sort of favour to Old Harry—and if -I’m offered a chance of leaving it I won’t refuse, but I don’t want to -go as if I had been kicked out. Of course they would do anything -rather than let me end up with a blaze of fireworks, but I think we -can manage it in this way. Only mind you keep things dark, and make a -point of coming when I send for help.” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I to tell the Chief what you think of doing?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly not. He’s as bad as any of them, now that I’ve managed to -put his back up. It’s all his own fault, too. If he had been like some -men, one could have asked him long ago in a chaffing sort of way about -the suspicious facts that had come to one’s knowledge, and we should -have been saved a lot of trouble. You stand by me, and keep your mouth -shut, and we shall do it.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch14"> -CHAPTER XIV.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">INTO THE TERRIBLE LAND.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">It</span> was not long before Ferrers’ request for an accession of force -reached Major Keeling, but it came at an unfortunate moment, for the -Commandant was just setting out in the opposite direction, taking with -him every man he could muster except those needed to guard the town. -News had arrived that a band of Nalapuri raiders had crossed the -frontier to the westward two days before, and as nothing more had been -heard of them, it was evident they were hiding in the hills and -waiting for an opportunity to swoop down and attack the labourers -engaged upon the new canal works. The various raids of the kind which -had occurred hitherto had been dealt with by the native police, but -having received timely warning of this organised and more formidable -incursion, Major Keeling meant to make an example of its promoters. -They should not cut up his coolies in future, however tempting and -defenceless the prey might appear. The matter was urgent, for delay -would enable the raiders either to accomplish their object, or, on -learning his intention, to make good their retreat over the frontier. -Once in their own country they need only separate and mingle among -their fellow-countrymen, who were all as villainous in looks and -character as themselves, and there would be no hope of tracking them. -Hence Major Keeling’s face was perturbed when he sent for Colin to his -office shortly before the hour fixed for starting. -</p> - -<p> -“I have just had a <i>chit</i> from Ferrers, asking for a small -reinforcement in order to effect the capture of Shir Hussein, and -suggesting that you should be sent in charge of it,” he said. “Had you -any idea that he had found out where he was?” -</p> - -<p> -“He mentioned to me that he had reason to believe Shir Hussein had -taken refuge in a fort which he knew very well, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“And that was when he was here the other day? Most extraordinary of -him not to have said anything to me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I think he meant to reconnoitre the place, sir, and see how large a -force would be needed, before he said anything about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Lest I should rush in and carry off the honour, I suppose? And he -promised to ask for you—and you are wild to go? It won’t do, Ross. He -can’t have reconnoitred the place to much purpose, I fear, from his -letter. He talks about Shir Hussein’s ‘sheltering in a ruined fort,’ -and ‘hopes to turn him out of it.’ Curiously enough, independent -information on the subject reached me only this morning, from which it -appears that Shir Hussein has between two and three hundred men with -him, and that he has repaired his ‘ruined fort’ in a very workmanlike -way.” -</p> - -<p> -“Perhaps his strength is exaggerated, sir?” pleaded Colin, seeing -Ferrers’ chance of distinction fading away; but Major Keeling shook -his head. -</p> - -<p> -“The information comes from one of my most trusted spies. No; I should -certainly have dealt with Shir Hussein myself if I had not been -starting on this business. How he can have managed to support such a -following in that district is most mysterious, and argues a good deal -of slackness on Ferrers’ part.” -</p> - -<p> -“I—I think perhaps he was outwitted, sir. I mean that he seems to -have looked for the man everywhere except comparatively near at hand.” -</p> - -<p> -“Possibly; but he ought not to have been outwitted. Well, Ross, you -see that it’s out of the question for you to go. Shir Hussein and his -fort won’t fly away, and I’ll take them in hand when this -raiding-party is disposed of, Ferrers co-operating from Shah Nawaz. -No; it’s his discovery, after all, and he shall have the credit of it -and be in command. If I go, it will be as a spectator.” -</p> - -<p> -“But they might escape first, sir—when they know they are discovered, -and that messengers are going backwards and forwards between here and -Shah Nawaz, I mean—and Ferrers will lose his chance.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t sacrifice my coolies that Ferrers may distinguish himself. -But look here. I will call out the doctor and his Hospital Fencibles -to guard the town again, and you shall take the detachment I was -intending to leave here, and join Ferrers. Then he will be strong -enough to keep the fellows from breaking away as you suggest. It’s -really important that they should not vanish and give us all the -trouble of looking for them over again. But mind, there is to be no -fighting. The troops—your detachment and Ferrers’ own—are to be used -purely for keeping guard over the approaches to Shir Hussein’s fort -and preventing his escape. My orders are stringent—I will send them -in writing as well as by word of mouth—that no attack is to be made -on the fort until I come up with the reinforcements. I know Ferrers -would be perfectly ready to run his head against a stone wall, -expecting to batter it down. Perhaps he might, but I distrust his -prudence, and I won’t have the town left open to an attack from Shir -Hussein. You understand?” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, sir,” said Colin dolefully. He knew by intuition that not even -Major Keeling’s chivalrous offer of self-suppression would make his -orders palatable to Ferrers, and his foresight was justified when he -arrived at Shah Nawaz with his small detachment, and found the whole -place in a turmoil of preparation. Ferrers was first incredulous, then -wrathful. -</p> - -<p> -“Didn’t I tell you how it would be?” he cried furiously. “Keeling is -determined that I shan’t leave the frontier with flying colours. It’s -nothing but mean, miserable jealousy on his part—and you side with -him. I expected it of the others, but you——!” -</p> - -<p> -“But your force is not large enough. Major Keeling believes that Shir -Hussein has over two hundred men with him.” -</p> - -<p> -“As if I didn’t know that! A surprise would make it all right.” -</p> - -<p> -“But he has repaired his fort, so the Chief says.” -</p> - -<p> -“He has made a new gate, which I am going to blow in, and piled up a -few of the stones which had fallen down. Do you think I don’t know -more about it than Keeling, when I reconnoitred up to the very gate -two nights ago, and not a soul stirred?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you had only said so in your letter! He thought you underrated the -difficulties.” -</p> - -<p> -“You fool! If I had told him all I knew about the strength of the -place, would he ever have sanctioned my attacking it? I thought I had -made that right, at any rate, and then this cursed spy of his turns -up! What business has he sending spies into my district?—to spy upon -me, I suppose, and make sure I get no chance of distinguishing -myself.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are unjust, George. He will let you have all the credit when he -brings up the reinforcements. You are to be in command, and he will -only be a spectator.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are too green. Don’t you know his dodge of getting these chaps to -surrender by the magic of his name? Where should I be then? If they -surrender, he gets the credit; if they don’t, he’ll get the fighting. -You don’t catch him sitting still and looking on, or joining as a -volunteer under me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I really think that was what he meant, and you couldn’t expect it of -any one else,” said Colin thoughtfully. -</p> - -<p> -“And I don’t expect it of him, you may be sure. I am going to carry -out my original plan, and surprise the fort to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -“But that would be disobeying orders!” -</p> - -<p> -“What do I care for orders? It’s a plot to rob me of my last chance of -distinction while I’m here. Dare you look me in the face and say it -isn’t? Porter and Haigh and the rest hate me like poison, and all -toady the Chief, so it’s no wonder that he tries to push them on, and -not me. But I won’t stand it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you must attack with only your own men—not mine.” -</p> - -<p> -“What! are you afraid?” There was an unpleasant smile on Ferrers’ -face. “Then you shall stay in command here, and I’ll take over your -men for the occasion.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, you won’t. They are under my orders, not yours.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers flung an ugly word at him, but could not alter his -determination, and all might have been well if Colin had not felt -moved to improve the occasion. “Don’t think I don’t sympathise with -you,” he said. “I know how hard it must be, but I can assure you -Keeling means well by you. After all, it is only keeping our men on -outpost duty for a day or two, and having the fight then.” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Ferrers earnestly—his mood seemed to have changed—“that’s -not all. I know the place too well to think we can guard all its -outlets. Shir Hussein and his men will simply make themselves scarce, -and we shall lose them. Colin, I’m going to put the glass to my blind -eye.” Colin moved uneasily. “Isn’t it Keeling’s boast that he commands -men, not machines—that he can trust his officers to disobey an order -if circumstances make it desirable?” Colin gave a doubtful assent, and -Ferrers went on, “I call upon you to second me. If you are afraid of -the responsibility, stay behind here; but unless you are bent upon my -death, you will let me have your men. We shall never have such an -opportunity again. By to-morrow morning Shir Hussein will have heard -you are here, and the chance of a surprise will be over. To-night he -knows nothing; there is no watch kept. I have the powder and the fuse -all ready for blowing in the gate, and once inside, we shall have them -at our mercy. Dare you risk the responsibility and come?” -</p> - -<p> -“I do. We will come,” said Colin, carried away by his friend’s unusual -earnestness, and Ferrers went out well pleased. His preparations were -in such a forward state that they had not suffered from his temporary -withdrawal, and at the appointed time all was ready for the -night-march. It was his intention to reach the fort about an hour -before dawn, and this part of his plans was carried out admirably. -After posting Colin and the larger portion of his force in readiness -to rush forward as soon as the smoke cleared away, Ferrers himself -went forward with one of the native officers to place the powder-bag -against the gate. It was impossible to follow their movements with the -eye, but as Colin gazed into the darkness, there came a crash, a -glare, a blinding explosion, shouts of dismay. He gave the word to the -eager men behind him, and they rushed forward with a cheer. But before -they were half-way across the space which separated them from the fort -gate, Colin became aware that bullets were whistling round him, that -men behind him were falling. Could it be that the men left in reserve -with their carbines loaded to keep down any fire that might be opened -from the wall were firing too low? No, the bullets came from before, -not from behind. As Colin realised this, he tripped over something and -fell into a hole, and was followed by several of his men. Before they -could extricate themselves, there was a tremendous rush from in front, -and a band of swordsmen, cutting and slashing with their heavy -tulwars, threw themselves upon the disordered force. The men behind -durst not fire, for fear of hitting their comrades; Colin, struggling -vehemently to his feet at last, was cut down and trampled upon; and if -a wild figure, with face streaming with blood, and hair partially -burnt off, had not burst into the fray, scarcely one of the -storming-party would have escaped. But Ferrers, who had been flung -senseless to a distance when the burst of firing from the wall—which -proved that it was he and not Shir Hussein who was surprised—had -exploded the gunpowder he was carrying and killed his companion, was -able to rally his force, and even press the enemy’s swordsmen back to -the gate. There was no prospect now of pushing in after them; all he -could do was to send orders to the men held in reserve to fire at any -flash of a matchlock from the wall, while he extricated Colin’s body -from the hole torn in the ground by the explosion, and his men carried -off their wounded comrades. The dead must be left behind—disgrace -unprecedented in the history of the Khemistan Horse. To retire on the -reserve, then to retreat slowly, with frequent halts to drive back the -pursuers, to the spot where the horses had been left, and to return -with sorely diminished numbers to Shah Nawaz, was all that could be -done. Had Shir Hussein chosen to follow up his advantage there would -have been little hope of defending the place successfully; but the -tradition of the invincibility of the regiment stood it in good stead -in this dark hour, and Ferrers was able to despatch a messenger to -Alibad, and then turn to and help the native hospital assistant who -was doing his best for Colin’s ghastly wounds. -</p> - -<p> -The news of the repulse created great excitement at Alibad; and as -soon as Dr Tarleton had sent off another messenger to Major Keeling, -he summoned Lady Haigh and Penelope and as many other non-combatants -as could be accommodated there to take refuge in the gaol, while he -armed his volunteers and appointed them their stations. But all fear -of an attack was at an end on the following morning, when Major -Keeling and his force swept like a tornado through the town, flushed -with victory over the Nalapuri invaders, and burning to avenge the -most serious check which the Khemistan Horse had met with since its -first formation. Kīlin Sahib had roared like a bull, the messenger -said, when he heard the news, and his face was black towards the -officers who sought to dissuade him from setting out at once for Shah -Nawaz. The men had had a severe fight and a long march, they reminded -him; to which he replied that the Khemistan Horse had often met with -hard knocks before, but had never retired. He was prevailed upon at -last to allow the force a night’s rest; but before daylight he was -parading the men, and selecting the freshest and best mounted to -accompany him, while the others were to escort the prisoners and spoil -to Alibad, and remain to guard the town. Sir Dugald was sent on ahead -to pick up two of his field-pieces, and he rejoined the force with -them as it passed through Alibad, bound first for Shah Nawaz, and then -for Shir Hussein’s stronghold. -</p> - -<p> -Shir Hussein was a man who knew when he was beaten. His first -overwhelming success was entirely unexpected, for, once run to earth, -he had only hoped to make his fortress a hard nut to crack, and keep -the Shah Nawaz detachment occupied with it for some time, while he -stood out for better terms. When he found all his approaches commanded -by marksmen posted among the rocks, and learned that it was the height -of folly for a man to show so much as his head above the parapet, he -congratulated himself on having made such an impression upon the foe -that they had decided upon a blockade rather than an assault, and made -up his mind that he could hold out for weeks. But when a small group -of men and two disagreeable-looking objects made their appearance at -the top of a precipitous cliff, the steepness of which seemed to -suggest that wings would be needed to get guns up there, and a far -from charming variety of round-shot, shell, and grape began to fall -inside his enclosure, Shir Hussein followed the example of the -historic coon, and intimated that he would surrender without further -persuasion. The resistance had been much too brief to satisfy the -outraged feelings of the regiment and its Commandant, but it afforded -these some relief to blow up the fort, and tumble the shattered -fragments down into the valley. Major Keeling ordered a halt at Shah -Nawaz on the way back, that he might install Lieutenant Jones there a -second time in place of Ferrers, whom he had already suspended; but -found to his disgust that there was no punishment involved in this, -since Ferrers had just received his appointment as envoy to Gamara. -The only thing to be done was to cold-shoulder him out of the province -as quickly as possible. -</p> - -<p> -“Envoy or no envoy,” said Major Keeling savagely to Lady Haigh in a -rare moment of confidence, “I’d have court-martialled him if it hadn’t -been for the private grudge between us. You can’t go persecuting the -man who’s cut you out.” -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers’ departure from Alibad, hurried and almost ignominious as it -was, was not wholly without its compensations, for Penelope and he -were drawn nearer together than ever before by their common anxiety -about Colin. Ferrers was so genuinely anxious and distressed for his -friend that he could think of nothing else, and his farewells to -Penelope consisted almost entirely of charges to take care of Colin, -and to let him know exactly how he was getting on. Penelope was not -likely to resent this preoccupation—indeed, she caught herself -reflecting what a sympathising friend she might have been to Ferrers -if he had not insisted upon being regarded as a lover,—and she parted -from him with kinder feelings than she would have thought possible -before. Thus he started on his journey to the river, whence he was to -cross the desert to the eastward and to travel to Calcutta, so as to -receive his orders and credentials from the Government before he -betook himself beyond the bounds of civilisation. Major Keeling saw -him depart with unconcealed pleasure, and promptly ordered up from the -river to replace him a young officer on whom he had had his eye for -some time, sowing the seeds of future trouble by seconding him from -his regiment and appointing him to the Khemistan Horse on his own -authority. -</p> - -<p> -As for Ferrers, he discovered very soon that his mission was not -likely to be either an easy or a particularly glorious one. When the -unfortunate Lieutenant Whybrow had disappeared, the Government -expressed its official regret at his probable fate, and seemed to -think it had done all that could be expected of it. But Whybrow had -possessed relations and many friends, and these were so unreasonable -as to hold the opinion that the Government was responsible for the -lives of its accredited agents. They induced a section of the home -press to take up the subject, and there was something like an -agitation about it in London. Finding that it was not to be left -alone, the Government decided on a compromise. Nothing but -overwhelming physical force could bring the fanatics of Gamara to -their knees, and this could only have been applied by an army, under -the command of Sir Henry Lennox or an officer of his calibre, whose -calculated rashness might, like Faith, “laugh at impossibilities, and -say, It shall be done.” But no one would have ventured to propose such -an expedition at this time, and it was therefore determined to try -moral suasion once more. Ferrers was supplied with the means of -obtaining abundance of money (which was to be rigorously accounted -for), but denied an escort; instructed to obtain the release of -Whybrow, if he was still alive, by all possible means, but strictly -forbidden to indulge in threats which might seem to pledge the -Government to take action. To most people the affair seemed hopeless -from the first; but Ferrers’ failing was not a lack of -self-confidence, and he felt that he had it in him to secure success -where other men would only suffer signal defeat. -</p> - -<p> -His journey to Gamara seemed to justify him in this opinion, for it -was a triumph of what a later age has learnt to call bluff. Taking -with him only his personal servants, he attached himself, for the -greater part of the way, to a trading caravan, and speedily made -himself the chief person in it. It could only be some very important -man, with unlimited power behind him, who would dare to adopt such an -insolent demeanour, and bully his travelling companions so -unconcernedly, thought the merchants. Somewhat sulkily they accepted -him at his own valuation, and the marches and halting-places came to -be settled by reference to him. He it was also who rebuked the guides -when it was necessary, bringing those haughty mountaineers to reason -by displaying a proficiency in many-tongued abuse which astonished -them, and who forced the headmen of inhospitable villages to turn out -of their own houses for his accommodation. True, the merchants -sometimes looked forward with misgiving to the next time they would -traverse these regions, when there would be no champion to help them; -but such a splendid opportunity of paying off old grudges was not to -be let slip, and the caravan led by the overbearing Farangi was long a -proverb on the route. -</p> - -<p> -When the mountains had been crossed, and the irrigated plains of -Gamara were in view, the caravan broke up into several portions, and -Ferrers pursued his way to the city in company with one of these. His -heart was high, for his reputation had preceded him, and the villagers -received him with marked respect. It was clear, he thought, that the -men who went before him had failed by going to work too gently, and -truckling to the prejudices of the people. The right thing was to go -on one’s way regardless of opposition, to browbeat the haughty and -meet the insolent with an insolence greater than their own, and in -general to act as no sane man, alone and without support in a hostile -country, could be expected to act. The natives, like his -fellow-travellers, would conclude that he had some mysterious reserve -of strength, or he could never be so bold. Thus he saw without -misgiving the distant masses of green which marked the neighbourhood -of the city, and rode calmly along the narrow dikes, which were the -only roads between the sunken fields, without a thought of turning -back while there was time. Dimly seen through their screen of trees, -the brick towers and earthen ramparts of Gamara had nothing very -terrible about them, and was not Ferrers entering the place as an -accredited envoy, with permission from the Khan to reside there until -the business on which he came was done? Even the contemptible little -dispute into which he was forced by the action of the officials at the -gate, who wished to make him dismount from his horse, did not trouble -him. What did it signify that the law of Gamara forbade a Christian to -ride in her streets? He, at least, was going to ride where he liked, -and ride he did. It was when he had passed triumphantly through the -gate that he was first conscious of a sense of uneasiness, of a -feeling that a net was closing round him. The city boasted flourishing -bazaars, and streets bordered by canals of clear water and shaded by -trees, but his way did not lie through them. Possibly by reason of his -self-assertion at the gate, or merely in order to avoid the crowds -which thronged the business part of the town, he was led through the -dullest bylanes of the residential quarter. The narrow alleys through -which he passed looked absolutely blank, the houses on either side -presenting nothing but high bare walls to the public eye. Their roofs -were flat, and such windows as there were looked into the inner -courtyards. It was like passing a never-ending succession of -prison-walls with occasional doors. Where the line was broken by a -mosque, which generally served also as a college, there was some -little relief in the shape of stately dome and lofty minaret, and -occasional dashes of colour produced by the use of enamelled tiles; -but it gave forth a throng of young fanatics clad in black, who made -outrageous remarks about the Kafir, which were as audible to their -object as they were intended to be. For convenience’ sake, and to -avoid attracting a crowd round him by his mere presence, Ferrers had -made the journey in native dress; but he had not attempted to alter -his appearance in any other respect, and his fair colouring rendered -him distinguishable at once. -</p> - -<p> -Having presented his credentials to the favourite who occupied the -position of the Khan’s foreign minister for the nonce, he was received -with suitable compliments, and assured that his arrival had been -expected, and a house and servants prepared for him. He was half -afraid that this house might prove to be within the circuit of the -inner wall enclosing the hill on which the Khan’s palace and the -public offices stood, in which case he would have anticipated the -possibility of foul play, but it turned out to be one of the ordinary -houses of the town. It was furnished sufficiently, according to -oriental ideas, with carpets and cushions; the servants in it accepted -with remarkably little friction the direction of those he had brought -with him; and when he had seen to the securing of the door opening -into the street, he felt that what looked like a prison from without -might be a fortress from within. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch15"> -CHAPTER XV.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">A LAND OF DARKNESS AND THE SHADOW OF DEATH.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">After</span> a night’s rest Ferrers prepared to pursue the inquiry on which -he had come, but he found that the blank walls of the city were only a -type of the passive opposition to be offered to his efforts. The mob -of the place was so fanatical and so threatening that, as he persisted -in maintaining his right to ride, he found it advisable to comply with -the request of the Khan’s advisers, and only show himself when he was -to be granted an audience at the palace or the house of one of the -ministers. Visitors he had none—none at least of the type that in -most oriental cities delights in calling upon a new-comer and spending -long hours in eliciting all manner of useless information. Gamara was -the scene of a perpetual reign of terror, exercised from above by the -Khan, and from below by the mob, reinforced by the hordes of -theological students, and between these two forces the mere moderate -man was crushed out of existence or frightened into silence. A whisper -against the orthodoxy of even a high official would send a raging -crowd to attack his house or to tear him limb from limb in the public -street, and the truth of the rumour would only be inquired into -afterwards, if at all. The Khan maintained his unquestioned ascendancy -by outdoing all his subjects in their zeal for orthodoxy, which had no -connection with morals, and by repressing that zeal with atrocious -severity when it clashed with his own wishes. Mob-law offered a very -useful means of getting rid of undesirable persons; but one or two -stern examples had been needed to teach the mob not to proceed to -extremities unless they were smiled upon by the palace. The presence -of a Christian in the sacred city was a standing defiance of its -inhabitants, and it was only the drawn scimitars of the Khan’s -bodyguard that protected Ferrers from certain death as he rode to and -from the palace in full uniform. -</p> - -<p> -There was a community of Jews in the place, and it was from this that -his unofficial visitors were drawn—scared, furtive men, distinguished -from the true believers by their dress, who skulked along back-lanes, -and entered the house by a private door in terror of their lives, but -emboldened to the enterprise by the hope of turning a more or less -honest penny. They were anxious to be Ferrers’ agents in communicating -secretly with personages whom he could not directly approach, and, in -general, to do any dirty work that might be requisite. One of them, -more courageous than the rest, actually offered to disguise Ferrers -and take him about the city, but he felt compelled to refuse the -offer, much against his will. The man was only too probably a spy, and -what could be easier than to lead the stranger, ignorant of his -whereabouts, into the precincts of one of the mosques, and raise the -cry of “Kafir!” after which the Indian Government would have to lament -the loss of another envoy who had mysteriously disappeared. It was -very likely that the missing Whybrow had been trapped in some such -way, but Ferrers was beginning to doubt whether exact information as -to his fate would ever be obtained. The one indisputable fact was that -he had disappeared, and not he alone, but his servants, horses, arms, -and equipment, as completely as if they had never existed. The last of -his written reports which had reached Calcutta was dated half a day’s -march from the city, and in it he said that in view of his projected -entry thither he thought it well to send off beforehand the results of -his explorations up to this point. From inquiries made on the spot, -Ferrers was certain that he had left this camping-ground and gone -towards the city, but there his information stopped. No one could or -would testify to the lost man’s having passed the gates, though rumour -was rife on the subject of his doings and his fate. Ferrers’ -emissaries brought him a different report every day. Whybrow had been -turned back at the gates and had returned to India; he had been -arrested on entering; he had been honourably received by the Khan and -provided with a house and escort; he had performed his business and -gone away in peace; he had been arrested during an audience at the -palace and straightway beheaded; he had been torn to pieces in the -streets; he had turned Mohammedan and been admitted to the Khan’s -bodyguard; a mutilated body alleged to be his had been subjected to -disgusting indignities at the place of execution,—all these mutually -contradictory reports were submitted, apparently in perfect good -faith, by the very same men, but they shed no certain light on the -fact of Whybrow’s disappearance. -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers had recourse to bribery. Presents judiciously distributed, by -means of his Jewish agents, among the Khan’s chief officers, brought -him the honour of an audience of each of the gentlemen so favoured, -and various interesting confidences. Whybrow Sahib had never entered -the city; he had died in it from natural causes; he had left it and -started safely on his return journey to India,—it seemed a pity that -the worshipful hypocrites had not taken counsel together beforehand to -tell one story and stick to it. Ferrers gathered only one more grain -of fact after all his expenditure, namely, that Whybrow had actually -been in Gamara. If he had not, there would not have been such anxiety -to assert that he had left it in safety. But nothing of this sort was -officially acknowledged. At each successive audience the Khan inquired -blandly whether Firoz Sahib had yet been able to learn anything as to -his friend’s fate, and even condescended to remark further that it was -most extraordinary a stranger should be able to disappear so -completely just outside Gamara, and leave no trace. -</p> - -<p> -Thus time went on, and Ferrers began to feel that he might remain in -Gamara for the rest of his days and get no further. Meanwhile, the -failure of his efforts and the restricted life he led were telling -upon his nerves and temper, and he began to say to himself that if -there was much more prevarication he would beard the Khan in his very -palace, and give him the lie to his face. When he had reached this -point, an excuse for the outburst was not long in offering itself. One -of his agents came to him one day with even more than the usual -secrecy, and produced from the inmost recesses of his garments -something small and heavy, wrapped up many times in a piece of cotton -cloth. It was a miniature Colt’s revolver—then a comparatively new -invention—beautifully finished and mounted in silver, and bearing on -a small silver plate the letters L. W., the initials of Leonard -Whybrow. Questioned fiercely as to where he had found it, the man -confessed by degrees that he had stolen it from the palace—“borrowed -it” was his way of expressing the fact. It had been in the charge of -the keeper of the Khan’s armoury, with whom he had some acquaintance, -and recognising from its make that it was a Bilati (European) pistol -of a new kind, he had secured it when the keeper’s back was turned, -intending to return it to its place at the earliest opportunity after -Ferrers had seen it. He further put in a claim for the repayment of a -sum of money which had been needed to induce the keeper to turn his -back at the right moment, and urged that the pistol should be given -back to him at once, or both the keeper and he would lose their heads, -since the Khan often amused himself by firing away the ammunition -which had come into his possession at the same time as the weapon. To -this, however, Ferrers refused to accede, paying the money with an -alacrity which made the agent wish he had asked double the sum, but -refusing to surrender the pistol. He was to have an audience of the -Khan on the morrow, and he would confront him with this proof of his -treachery. -</p> - -<p> -The next day came, and Ferrers rode to the palace with his usual -escort. The audience proceeded on the ordinary lines; but when the -Khan asked the stereotyped question as to the envoy’s success in his -mission, he did not receive the usual answer. Ferrers took the -revolver from his sash, held it up to the light, pointed out the -significance of the letters, and threw it on the floor at the Khan’s -feet. Then, without another word, he went back to his place and sat -down, but not in the cramped position prescribed by Eastern etiquette, -for instead of sitting on his heels, he turned the soles of his feet -towards the Khan—thus offering him the worst insult that could be -devised—and waited calmly for the result. The court was in an uproar -immediately; but the Khan, pale with anger, contented himself with -announcing that the audience was at an end, and dismissed the -assembly. Perfectly satisfied with the result of his <i>coup</i>, -purposeless though it was, Ferrers rode home with much elation. The -news of his action had quickly spread from the palace into the town, -and his path was beset by an angry mob, who threw stones until they -were charged by the escort; but he felt an absolute pleasure in facing -them. The long succession of insults heaped upon him had been more -than revenged at last. -</p> - -<p> -As he neared the house, it occurred to him for the first time that it -would have been prudent to be prepared to take his departure -immediately after defying the Khan. His servants should have been -warned to pack up as soon as he started for the palace, and to await -him with the laden horses at the gate nearest to the house. Even now -it was not too late. He might ride straight to the gate himself, -sending word to the servants to bring whatever they could snatch up -and follow him, or he might go to the house and fetch them. This was -the best plan, for he did not like the thought of abandoning all his -possessions, and he almost decided to adopt it. It was vexatious to -appear to run away, of course, but he could scarcely doubt there was -danger in remaining. He had just turned to the officer in command of -the escort, intending to request his company as far as the gate, when -a messenger from the palace clattered along the street and dashed up, -shouting his message as he came. In the most insulting terms Firoz -Sahib was bidden take his servants and depart from Gamara immediately. -The Khan’s safe-conduct would protect him to the gates, and no -farther. The effect on Ferrers was instantaneous. Submit to be ordered -out of the city—driven forth with insults—never! -</p> - -<p> -“Tell his Highness that I leave Gamara to-morrow, and at my own time,” -he said to the messenger, in tones quite audible to the crowd which -had collected. “Am I a beggar to be driven forth with words?” -</p> - -<p> -The crowd listened with something like awe, and the messenger, -apparently impressed, made answer that he would return to the palace -and represent to the Khan that the envoy had had no time to make -preparation for the journey, and could not, therefore, start at once. -The officer of the escort, seeming to be satisfied that the plea would -be allowed, asked whether Firoz Sahib would like a guard left in the -house for the night, in case of an attack by the mob; but Ferrers -declined, with a shrewd idea that the danger might be as great from -the one as from the other. Remarking that he would be ready to start -on the following afternoon, he was about to enter the house, when an -elderly woman, not of the best character, with whom he had several -times exchanged a smile and a jest, looked out at her doorway on the -opposite side of the narrow street. -</p> - -<p> -“When the wolf sees the trap closing upon him, he does not wait to -escape till it is down,” she cried, with a shrill burst of laughter, -and Ferrers recognised that a timely warning was intended. But he set -his teeth hard. Depart in obedience to the Khan’s insulting mandate he -would not, even though he had been prepared to start at once before -receiving it. It seemed to him, however, that it would not materially -compromise his dignity if he stole a march on the authorities, and -made a dash for the gate with his servants as soon as it was opened in -the morning. They would not expect him to start until the time he had -mentioned, and the mob would not have opportunity to collect in -sufficient numbers to bar the passage of several resolute, well-armed -men. He gave his orders accordingly; but the process of packing up was -interrupted by the servants belonging to the house, who collected in -an angry group, and demanded loudly to be given their wages and -allowed to depart. The house and all in it were marked for -destruction, they said, and why should they be sacrificed to the -madness of the Kafir? -</p> - -<p> -“The rats desert the sinking ship,” said Ferrers grimly; but he paid -the men their wages, and allowed them to steal out separately by the -private door, each hoping to lose himself in the labyrinth of narrow -lanes, and so elude the vengeance of the authorities until he could -find refuge with his friends. One of the men Ferrers had brought from -India also petitioned to be allowed to take his chance in this way, -and lest his presence in the house should be an element of weakness, -he was suffered to depart. The rest obeyed in silence the orders they -received. They could not understand their master’s proceedings, but -they knew well that all Sahibs were mad, and that it was expedient to -humour them even at their maddest. Moreover, this particular Sahib had -brought them through so many dangers already, apparently by virtue of -his very madness, that they felt a kind of confidence in him, and -provisions were prepared and loads made ready for an early start on -the morrow—the morrow which, for all but one in the house, was never -to come. -</p> - -<p> -The street was quiet when Ferrers went his rounds before going to bed, -but he posted a sentry at the door and another at the postern, lest an -attempt should be made to break in. He had little fear of an attack -while he was behind stone walls, however; it was the ride through the -city to the gate which he really dreaded. But in the night he was -roused by the clank of metal: some one had dropped a weapon of some -sort on a stone floor. Hastily catching up his sword, he seized his -revolver and rushed out into the courtyard, to descry dimly against -the starry sky a man climbing over the wall which separated his roof -from that of the next house, and dropping down. Before he had time to -wonder whether the man was alone or had been preceded by others, he -was borne down by a sudden rush from the dark corners of the -courtyard. The revolver was struck from his hand, his sword was -wrenched away, and though he fought valiantly with his fists, he was -tripped up by a cunning wrestler and thrown to the ground, and there -bound hand and foot with marvellous celerity. Without a moment’s pause -his assailants lifted him and carried him to the door, where they tied -him upon a horse which was waiting. Hitherto he had been absolutely -dazed. Not a word had been uttered, not a sound made since that first -clang which had awakened him; and while the men were evidently armed, -they had been careful not to wound him, though he had caught sight of -more than one dead body in the courtyard and the passage. The very -stillness roused him at last to coherent thought. There was not a soul -in the street, not a ray of light nor the creak of a cautiously opened -door from the blank houses on either side. He knew the truth now. As -Whybrow had disappeared, so he was to disappear, without a sound or -cry to attract the attention of the prudent dwellers in the -neighbourhood. The bodies of his servants and all traces of their fate -would be removed, his horses and possessions conveyed away before -daybreak, and only the empty house would be left, and the usual -sickening uncertainty as to one more envoy’s fate. And what would that -fate be? His blood ran cold at the thought, but it nerved him to one -supreme effort. This street, after many windings, ended at the city -wall; if he could once reach that point, he might scale the sloping -earthen rampart and succeed in escaping, destitute of everything and -in a country swarming with enemies, but with life and honour left him. -Gathering all his strength, he burst one of the cords that held him, -and flung himself upon the men nearest him, fighting hopelessly with -his bound hands. For a moment astonishment made the group give way; -but before he could free himself further, one of them, grasping the -situation, struck him on the head with a club, and he dropped -senseless on the horse’s neck. -</p> - -<p> -When he recovered consciousness he was lying on a stone floor. His -hands were free, but heavy fetters were round his ankles, and these -were connected by a chain to which was attached a heavy weight. He -could drag himself slowly about, but to move fast or far was -impossible. He felt about his prison; it was all of stone, small and -filthy, but dry, and from this, and the fact that a gleam of light -came through an aperture near the top of one of the walls, he gathered -that he was what might be considered a favoured prisoner. He was in -the dungeons of Gamara, which were a name of terror throughout Asia, -but not in one of the horrible underground cells. Not that this -softened his feelings towards the gaolers. Escape was out of the -question, but failing that, his mind fastened itself on the -possibility of a speedy death, accompanied preferably by as much -damage to his captors as he could succeed in effecting. What was -needed was a weapon of some sort. He did not expect to find furniture -in the dungeon, but he hunted about for some time in the hope of -lighting upon a loose stone, or even a bone from some predecessor’s -rations. Nothing of the kind offering itself, he felt about for a -jagged edge in the wall, and at last found one, not too far from the -floor. Crouching beside it, he lifted the chain attached to the -weight, and began to use the rough stone as a file. He worked away -with frenzied eagerness, though his hands were soon streaming with -blood, and the cramped position caused him intense agony. His mind had -no room for anything but the one idea, the obtaining of a weapon. At -last his task was accomplished—the link gave way. He was free from -the weight, though his feet were still fastened together by a chain -only some eight inches long. He tried to work on this next, but in -vain, as he could not get the chain into such a position as to reach -his file with it. But he had his weapon, and he lifted it with -difficulty and placed it where he thought it would be most useful. -Then he took up a position behind the door and waited. -</p> - -<p> -At last there were sounds outside, and the door creaked slowly open. A -man’s head appeared, looking round in surprise and alarm for the -prisoner. By a tremendous effort, Ferrers raised the weight as the -gaoler advanced into the cell, and brought it down on his head. He -fell with a crash, and an earthen vessel of water which he had been -carrying was shivered on the floor. Ferrers had formed some vague plan -of dressing himself in the gaoler’s clothes and taking possession of -his keys, but this was now out of the question, for there was a sound -of voices and a rush of steps towards his cell. He drew back into the -shadow, intending to knock down the first man that entered as he had -done the gaoler, but his temporary strength was gone. His arms refused -to raise the weight more than an inch or two. With a cry of rage he -dropped it, and charged furiously into the group of men who had been -attracted by the noise, and were trying to screw up one another’s -courage to enter the cell. One or two of them went down before his -blows, others fled at the sight of the apparition, but there remained -two who flung themselves upon Ferrers and grappled with him. Weakened -by fasting and the blow he had received, he yet fought manfully, but -they were slowly and surely forcing him back towards the cell, when -one of them caught his foot in the chain. All three went down, Ferrers -undermost, and once more he lost consciousness, the last thing he -heard being a warning cry, “Do not kill him: it is his Highness’s -order.” -</p> - -<p> -When he awoke next he was again in his cell, but now his hands were -also fettered, and he was chained to a ring in the wall. The death he -desired had eluded him, and he was worse off than before. He was stiff -and sore all over after his fight, and his head gave him excruciating -pain. At his side were a cake of rough bread and a very moderate -allowance of water, and he seized upon them greedily, then lapsed into -semi-consciousness. For an unknown length of time after this he lived -in a kind of delirium, in which past, present, and future were -inextricably mingled in his mind, and his only clear feeling was a -vehement hatred of any one who came near him. When his brain became -less confused he gave himself up to imagining means of gratifying this -hatred, walking ceaselessly backwards and forwards in the semicircle -of two or three paces’ radius, which was all that his chains would -allow. His new gaoler never ventured within his reach, and put his -food where he could only touch it by dint of strenuous efforts, and -the difficulty was to induce him to come closer. But the words he had -heard recurred to Ferrers’ half-maddened brain, and when the gaoler -entered the cell one day, expecting to find the prisoner walking about -and muttering to himself as usual, he saw only a confused heap by the -wall. He called, but received no answer, and in terror lest the Khan -should have been baulked of his revenge by the death of his captive, -ventured near enough to touch him. The moment he came within reach -Ferrers sprang up with a howl like that of a wild beast, and, joining -his two fettered hands, smote him on the head with all his strength. -The man fell; but the authorities had learnt wisdom from the fate of -his predecessor, and Ferrers’ triumph was shortlived. Several men -rushed in from the passage, dragged out the gaoler, and, turning upon -the prisoner, beat him so cruelly with whips of hide that he sank on -the ground bleeding and exhausted. When they left him at last, it was -with a promise that he should taste the bastinado on the morrow, and, -unhappily for him, his mind was now sufficiently clear to understand -all that this implied. -</p> - -<p> -All day he lay more dead than alive, and when the door of his cell -opened gently, hours before the usual time, he had not strength to -look up, even when a light was flashed in his eyes. It was not until a -leathern bottle was held to his lips, and a voice said, “Drink this, -sahib,” that he awoke from his lethargy, to see a well-known face -bending over him. -</p> - -<p> -“What, is it you, Mirza?” he asked feebly. -</p> - -<p> -“Hush, sahib; I am come to save you,” was the whispered answer. “Only -do what I tell you, or both our lives will pay for it.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers drank obediently, and as he drank his strength seemed to -return. He sat passive while the Mirza unlocked the fetters from his -ankles, and filed through the chain which fastened him to the wall, -but the thought in his mind was that now he would run through the -prison and kill any one he met. He felt strong enough to face an army. -But the Mirza’s hand was on his arm as he sprang up. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, sahib, we must go quietly. Put on the turban and garments I have -here, and hide your hands in the sleeves, for it would take too long -to file the fetters from your wrists now. Then follow me without a -word. You are my disciple, and under a vow of silence. If we meet any -one, I will speak for both.” -</p> - -<p> -The authoritative tone had its effect in calming Ferrers, and he -obeyed, putting on the clothes as best he could with his trembling, -fettered hands, assisted by the Mirza, and pulling the loose sleeves -down to hide his wrists. Then the Mirza took up his lantern and -beckoned him to follow, fastening the door of the cell noiselessly as -soon as they were both outside. They passed along a corridor with -cell-doors on either side, and then through a kind of guardroom, where -several men were lounging, either asleep or only half-awake. These -saluted the Mirza, and looked with something like curiosity at his -disciple, making no objection to their passing. Then came a courtyard -which was evidently that of the common prison, for from a high-walled -building on one side came shouts and groans and cries and wild -laughter, making night more hideous even than day, and the ground was -strewn thickly with bones and all kinds of filth. The Mirza did not -turn towards the gateway, but to a corner near it, where he opened a -small door and secured it carefully again when Ferrers had passed -through. Then he led the way up a flight of stone steps and through -various passages, and finally brought his guest into a room fairly -furnished and—joy of joys!—clean. -</p> - -<p> -“This house is yours, sahib,” he said, turning to him. “There are -slaves at your orders, a bath, food, clothes. I myself will dress your -wounds, since there might be danger in calling in a physician from the -town, but here for the present you are safe.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers looked round him like one in a dream. The thing was absolutely -incredible after the squalor and brutality, the ineffectual struggles, -of the days and nights since he had been captured. “I—I don’t -understand,” he said feebly. “I thought you and I had quarrelled.” -</p> - -<p> -“Am I one to forget the kindness of years in the hasty words of a -night?” asked the Mirza reproachfully. “Nay, sahib; now the time is -come for me to repay all I have ever received from you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t understand,” murmured Ferrers again, and reeled against the -Mirza, who laid him on a divan, and called for the servants. Still -half unconscious, the prisoner was stripped of the horrible rags he -had worn in the prison, and clothed afresh in rich native garments. -His wounds were dressed, food and cooling drinks were brought him, and -he was left to rest in comfort and security. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch16"> -CHAPTER XVI.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">“ENGLAND’S FAR, AND HONOUR A NAME.”</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">His</span> arrival at the Mirza’s house was the beginning of what appeared, -in contrast with the days that had gone before it, a period of perfect -bliss to Ferrers. The extreme peril of his position, and the danger -which would face him if he wished to leave the city, occurred to him -only as considerations that enhanced the comfort of the present -moment. He had nothing to do but to enjoy life within somewhat -circumscribed limits, and to feel his strength returning day by day -under the care of the Mirza and his household of obsequious slaves. -From time to time the Mirza would appear perturbed, and a question -would elicit the admission that a rigorous search was being made, now -in one part of the city and now in another, for the escaped prisoner. -But Ferrers thought this an excellent joke; and under its influence -the gloomy brow of his host would also relax, for was not the Mirza -the keeper of the prison, and was not his house the last place where -the fugitive would be sought? Still, there were certain precautions to -be taken, and for gratitude’s sake Ferrers was careful to observe -them. He found that the Mirza was far more strict in the performance -of his religious duties than he had ever known him—in fact, the man -who had posed at Shah Nawaz as a freethinker was here the most -orthodox of Moslems, and Ferrers, as became a disciple, also reformed -his earlier heterodox behaviour. In the course of his adventures in -disguise at Bab-us-Sahel he had gained a fair working knowledge of the -points of Mohammedan ritual; now he became acquainted with its -extremest minutiæ, even to the incessant use of the Fattha, or first -verse of the Koran, with which, in the contracted form of “Allahu!” -the devout Gamaris were wont to preface most of the actions of life. -Even had any of the slaves been ill-disposed, they could have alleged -nothing against the orthodoxy of their master and his disciple; but -they seemed to vie with one another in showing a deference to Ferrers -only second to the veneration with which they regarded the Mirza. -</p> - -<p> -It was but to be expected that as Ferrers grew strong again he would -begin to chafe against the close confinement which his host assured -him was necessary, and even to hint that it was time he made some -attempt to escape from the city. These hints were always turned aside -by the Mirza, however, and it was impossible to know whether he had -understood them or not; but he was more accommodating in the direction -of providing for his guest a certain amount of recreation. At the -beginning, when visitors appeared, Ferrers was always smuggled out of -the way in good time; but by degrees he was allowed to remain, at one -time only hovering on the outskirts of the circle, ready to do the -Mirza’s commands like a dutiful disciple, then, keeping in the shadow, -to lean against a pillar and listen to the words of wisdom that fell -from his teacher, and at last to make one of the group. He had grown a -beard by that time, and this, with the aid of various skilful touches -from the Mirza, altered his appearance completely, while his earlier -practice in behaving as an Oriental stood him in good stead. At length -the Mirza considered that it was safe to take him out of doors, and -they entered afresh on their old course of adventures, the zest of -which was heightened now to Ferrers by the imminent presence of -extreme peril. The scenes which they passed through were many and -various, showing under-currents of life in the sacred city which it -would be by no means profitable to describe. Ferrers was wont at first -to salve his conscience by assuring himself that this all formed part -of an exhaustive inquiry which would have important results when he -returned to civilisation; but he soon began to feel a fascination in -the life he was leading,—to feel that he was being gripped by -something to which one side of his nature, and that not the highest, -responded with fatal facility. -</p> - -<p> -It was one night that this idea came to him, bringing with it the -unpleasant conviction that he was a great deal happier in Gamara than -he had any business to be; and in the morning he was moody and -troubled, almost making up his mind to speak plainly to the Mirza and -demand the means of escape, then deciding that it was better not to -touch on a subject which his host so pointedly avoided. They were -bidden to an entertainment that day at the house of Ghulam Nabi, one -of the Mirza’s friends, an old and trusted servant of the Khan, and -renowned even in Gamara for the strictness of his orthodoxy. The -company was a very small one, for only a few could be trusted with the -secret that besides the invariable tea and sherbets, fruit and -sweetmeats, Ghulam Nabi was wont to amuse his confidential friends -with entertainments of a more questionable character; but among them -was a nephew of the old man’s who was a student at a neighbouring -mosque, and who threatened to be a disturbing element. Ferrers had -become by this time so used to his assumed character that he no longer -took the precaution of seating himself with his back to the light -under the pretence that his eyes were weak, as he had done at first, -and he found the student’s gaze fastened on him almost continuously. -Aware that to show agitation would be the worst possible policy, he -nerved himself to maintain his usual calmness, and succeeded, as he -believed, in dispelling the youth’s suspicions. But presently, as the -guests rose to accompany their host to a pavilion in the garden, the -student flung himself forward with a shout. -</p> - -<p> -“That man is a Kafir!” he cried, pointing at Ferrers. “I have been to -India, and seen the Sahibs, and he is one. He does not eat like us, he -rises from his seat differently. He is here in the holy city to spy -upon us!” -</p> - -<p> -There was a stir among the guests, and they fell away from Ferrers as -if he had been denounced as plague-stricken. He himself, as if by a -sudden inspiration, attempted no defence. He looked at the Mirza, then -bowed his head, and stood in a submissive attitude. The Mirza came to -his rescue at once. -</p> - -<p> -“The man is my disciple, and no Sahib,” he said. “Is this the way that -the Sahibs receive an accusation, O far-travelled one? Nay, but I have -been training this disciple of mine in patience and submission, until -I verily believe he thinks I have devised this scene to test him. -Truly he has learnt his lesson, and when I go hence, my mantle shall -be his. Is he not a worthy successor, brethren?” -</p> - -<p> -“He is no true believer,” protested the student, but less confidently -than before. The rest of the company were evidently coming over to -Ferrers’ side, and Ghulam Nabi clinched the matter. -</p> - -<p> -“It can easily be proved,” he said. “I am not wont to put tests to -those who come under my roof; but in order to quiet the foolish tongue -of this low-born nephew of mine, let the Mirza’s disciple repeat the -<i>Kalima</i>, that the ill-spoken boy may bow down in the dust before -him.” -</p> - -<p> -Much relieved by so easy a solution of the difficulty, Ferrers -repeated promptly the Moslem creed, without hurry and with the proper -intonation. The confusion of the student was complete, and his uncle -and the other elders heaped reproaches upon him, while the Mirza’s -face beamed. No further incident disturbed the harmony of the evening, -and Ferrers returned home with his host in good spirits. His nerve, at -any rate, must be untouched by the trials through which he had passed, -since he could confront such an emergency without a single tremor. He -had forgotten all about the remonstrance he had intended to address to -the Mirza, and was going straight to his own room, when he was called -back. -</p> - -<p> -“A load has been removed from my mind to-day,” said the Mirza. “I had -not looked to hear Firoz Sahib confess himself of his own free will a -follower of Islam, and it has often grieved me to think of his -returning to the dungeons whence I took him.” -</p> - -<p> -“It was merely a joke, of course,” said Ferrers lightly, “but it -served its purpose. Good thing I remembered the words all right!” -</p> - -<p> -“There can be no jest in repeating the <i>Kalima</i> in the presence of -witnesses,” was the reply. “It saved Firoz Sahib’s life to-day.” -</p> - -<p> -“And will save it a good many times yet, I daresay; but of course it’s -nothing but a joke. Hang it, Mirza! you don’t expect me to go on -pretending to be a Mussulman when I get back to India?” -</p> - -<p> -“You will never get back to India, sahib. Those that have seen the -things that have been shown to you do not leave Gamara.” -</p> - -<p> -“What in the world do you mean? I shall leave Gamara as soon as I -can—in a few days, I suppose.” -</p> - -<p> -“When you leave this house you will either leave it as a Mussulman, in -which case honour and riches await you, or as a Christian, when you -will return to the dungeon from which I brought you. Or rather, as one -who has once professed the faith of Islam and afterwards denied it, -you will pass to such tortures as are reserved for renegades. But you -will never leave Gamara.” -</p> - -<p> -Ferrers stood gazing at him, unable to utter a word, and the Mirza -went on, speaking in a meditative tone— -</p> - -<p> -“Yet is there no cause for sorrow in this, for there is greater honour -for you here than you would ever have attained in India. And when the -alternative is death—— Nay, is it not better to command the Khan’s -bodyguard, and to receive at his Highness’s hand houses, and riches, -and fair women, and all marks of favour, than to be roasted alive, or -flung headlong from the minaret of the Great Mosque, only to fall upon -the sharp hooks set midway in the wall, there to hang in torture until -you die?” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t seem to think it worth while to enter upon the religious -side of the question,” sneered Ferrers savagely. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, Firoz Sahib and I have lived and talked together too long for -that. He knows that among unbelievers I am even as they, among Sufis I -am a Sufi, among the Brotherhood of the Mountains I am one of -themselves. To Rāss Sahib I have even presented myself as an inquirer -into Christianity. In Persia I should be a Shiah, here in Gamara I am -the most orthodox of Sunnis. To the wise man all creeds are the same, -and he adopts that one which is most expedient for the moment. And as -it is with me, so is it with Firoz Sahib, my disciple. To no man is it -pleasant to change the customs in which he has grown up. When Firoz -Sahib came to Gamara he put on the garments of this land; when he came -into this house he shaved his head, according to the custom of the -people, and these things he did of his own free will for a protection. -But had any man ordered him to do them with threats, he would have -stiffened his neck and refused with curses. So is it with this matter -of creeds. Christianity is to Firoz Sahib as the garments of his own -land, which he will lay aside of his own free will, for the sake of -his own safety. He is too wise a man to see in the change anything but -a matter of expediency.” -</p> - -<p> -“And faith? and honour? and my friends?” demanded Ferrers fiercely, -with bloodless lips. -</p> - -<p> -“To your friends you died the day you entered Gamara. Nothing that now -happens to you can reach their ears. Whether you live long and enjoy -his Highness’s favour, or brave his wrath and die the deaths of a -hundred men, they will know nothing of it. The matter is one for -yourself; they can have no part in it.” -</p> - -<p> -“This is your doing!” burst from Ferrers. -</p> - -<p> -“And why not? When you destroyed in a moment all my labours, refusing -me the means of justifying myself to those that had employed me in -Nalapur, so that having failed to slay the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, the -accursed, it was needful for me to flee from their wrath also, I said -to you that we should meet again. I thought to journey at some future -time to Khemistan, and finding you in high place and established with -a wife, trouble your tranquillity by whispers of what I might tell if -I chose. I did not expect you to come to me here, where all was at -hand for a vengeance of which I had not dreamt. But when I heard you -were coming to Gamara, I knew that destiny had delivered you into my -hand. You are here, and being such as you are, you will choose life -and happiness, having only lately been very close to Death, and gladly -turned your back on him. So that my vengeance has nothing in it that -is cruel, but the truest kindness, for your life will be saved in this -world, and your soul in the world to come, if there be such a thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“I won’t do it!” cried Ferrers. “Call in your slaves and denounce me. -Then you will have your precious vengeance after all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay,” said the Mirza musingly, “it would be long in coming. Death is -not all that is in store for the renegade, nor is it swift. Moreover, -his Highness desires a Farangi to train his guard in the manner of -Europe, and I would not willingly disappoint a second master. You are -young, and life is sweet, and before you are war and wealth and the -love of women on the one side. On the other—nay, but I will show you -what is on the other. Come with me, but utter no word, for your own -sake.” -</p> - -<p> -The Mirza took up a lantern and a long cord, and led the way towards -the door by which he had first brought Ferrers into his house. -</p> - -<p> -“To the prison?” asked Ferrers, with a shudder which he could not -repress at the thought of entering again the place where he had -suffered so much. -</p> - -<p> -“To the prison. But fear not, you shall return hither. After that, it -will be for you to do as you choose.” -</p> - -<p> -Once more they passed through the low doorway, crossed the filthy -courtyard, received the salutations of the sleepy watchers in the -guardroom, and entered the dark passage, Ferrers trembling from head -to foot as the full recollection of what he had suffered there -returned to him. But instead of opening the door of his cell, the -Mirza turned aside into a second passage, and led the way through a -labyrinth of narrow corridors and winding staircases, the trend of the -route being always downwards. The air grew thick and damp, and the -lantern burned dimly. There was a smell of mould, and where the light -fell on the walls, they seemed to move. Ferrers stumbled on after the -Mirza, who appeared to know his way perfectly. At last their nostrils -were assailed by a horrible stench, and the Mirza, moving the lantern -from side to side, showed that they were in a cave or room of some -size, hollowed in the rock. In the middle of the floor was a hole or -well, from which the stench seemed to come, and above it in the roof -was another hole. -</p> - -<p> -“Not a word!” whispered the Mirza, leading the way to what looked like -a doorway on the farther side of the place. He lifted the lantern and -threw the light inside. Horrible things wriggled and ran along the -floor and crept upon the walls as he did so. He put one foot inside -the doorway, and there was a kind of stampede. Small bright eyes and -sharp teeth shone in every corner. But Ferrers’ gaze was fixed upon a -crouching heap, which might have been a wild animal, at the very back -of the cell. It moved, and disclosed the face of a man, gaunt, wasted, -fever-stricken, with bleached unkempt hair and beard. -</p> - -<p> -“Be off! I won’t do it!” The words were uttered with difficulty, but -they were in English. Ferrers started violently, and the Mirza threw -him a menacing look. The captive, seeming to recollect himself, -repeated the words in Persian, but the Mirza made no reply. After -turning the light of the lantern once more on the man and his -surroundings, he motioned Ferrers back. Ferrers obeyed. The moment -before, it had been in his mind to say some word of cheer to the -prisoner, at whatever risk to himself, if only to let him know that -there was another Englishman—another Christian—within those terrible -walls. But the words remained unspoken, and with a clank of chains the -prisoner sank back into his former position, his chin supported on his -knees. -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the Mirza had been fastening to the lantern the cord he had -brought with him, and now he let it down into the well, ordering -Ferrers to look over the edge, but not to go too near. Once more he -obeyed, to behold a sickening chaos of human bones and dead bodies in -all stages of decomposition, among which moved and scampered obscene -creatures such as he had seen on the walls and floor of the cell. -</p> - -<p> -“All that die in the prison are cast here,” said the Mirza, and -Ferrers realised that the hole in the roof must communicate with the -courtyard above-ground. -</p> - -<p> -“And who was—that?” he asked fearfully, as they began to retrace -their steps. The Mirza gave him a glance full of satisfied malignity. -</p> - -<p> -“That,” he said slowly, and as if enjoying each word, “is Whybrow -Sahib.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whybrow, whom I came here to——?” -</p> - -<p> -“Whom you came to save. He is not a wise man, like Firoz Sahib. He -will neither embrace the faith of Islam nor enter his Highness’s army. -Therefore he lives here, with the rats and the scorpions.” -</p> - -<p> -“And what—what will become of him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Who can say? Perhaps he will die—the rats are often hungry—or he -might be forgotten. Or it may be his cell will be needed for some -other prisoner,—then he will be thrown into the well and left there. -But that may not be for years.” -</p> - -<p> -Years—years of such captivity as that! Ferrers laughed harshly. “You -should have brought him up into your house and made life mean as much -to him as you have done to me,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“We have,” was the answer; “and even into the very palace of his -Highness, where one of the dancing-girls, pitying him, pleaded for his -life with her lord and with him, but he would not yield. He returned -hither, and she died, as a warning to her companions.” -</p> - -<p> -Again they made their way through the passages and up the stairs, -again crossed the courtyard and entered the Mirza’s house. Ferrers -turned aside to the steps which led up to the roof. -</p> - -<p> -“Take counsel with yourself,” the Mirza called after him. “To-morrow -you must decide.” -</p> - -<p> -Take counsel! Ferrers had meant to do it; but even as he began to pace -to and fro, with the sleeping city outspread all around him, he knew -that the matter was decided already—had been decided from the moment -when he withheld the words he had tried to utter to Whybrow. The test -was more than flesh and blood could stand. In open day, Ferrers could -have charged alone into an overwhelming host of enemies, and died -gloriously. Had he lived in earlier days, he could have faced the -lions in the amphitheatre, unarmed, and not have flinched, or have -fought as a gladiator and received his death-blow by command of the -audience without a sign of fear. But die slowly by inches underground, -submit to be eaten alive by vermin, perish unknown, unhonoured, this -he could not do. If only he had had companions in misfortune, if even -Whybrow and he could have stood shoulder to shoulder from the first, -and encouraged one another, it would have been different, but there -was not a creature within hundreds of miles to whom steadfastness on -his part would seem anything but foolishness. As the Mirza had said, -no one in the world he had left would ever know whether he had died a -hero or lived a craven; and if they did, what good would it do him? -Penelope, who ought to care, would expect him to hold out. He felt -angrily that if Penelope had loved him better he might have been a -better man, even able to hold out, perhaps. It would have been -something, on the other hand, to be able to assure himself that she -would wish him to yield, but he could not take this comfort. And, -after all, what was he giving up? To trample on the cross, to curse -the claims of Christ—these were disagreeable things to do, but, as -the Mirza had said, they had no particular poignancy for him. With -Colin it would have been different, of course. Christ was more than a -name to him, Christianity other than a mere set of formulæ. But how -could it be expected of Ferrers—could any one in his senses ask -it—that he should die for Colin’s faith? -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch17"> -CHAPTER XVII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">THE STRENGTH OF TEN.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">For</span> some months after Ferrers’ departure for Gamara, Colin was kept -a prisoner by the wounds received in the unsuccessful first attack on -Shir Hussein’s stronghold. Lady Haigh had insisted that he should be -brought to the fort, and she and Penelope nursed him unweariedly. His -convalescence was long and tedious, and complicated by attacks of -fever; but he exhibited a constant patience which, as Lady Haigh said, -was nothing but a reproach to ordinary mortals, and only showed what -terrible people the Martyrs must have been to live with. From the -first return to consciousness, his question was always for news of -Ferrers; and when he was at last promoted from his bedroom to a couch -in the drawing-room, he was still eager on the subject. -</p> - -<p> -“Have you had many letters from George, Pen?” he asked his sister the -very first day. -</p> - -<p> -“Two, I think. No, there must have been three,” she answered -indifferently. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you mean to say you’re not sure? If poor George only knew what an -affectionate sweetheart he has!” -</p> - -<p> -“They came when you were very ill. How could I think of them then?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. It seems the proper thing, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t they be -generally supposed to be a comfort to you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Possibly, by people who didn’t know the circumstances.” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Pen!” Colin gave her a puzzled look. “Couldn’t you read me a bit -here and there?” he asked coaxingly. “I should like to hear how the -old fellow is getting on.” -</p> - -<p> -“I’m not sure that I can find them. I’ll look.” -</p> - -<p> -She went into her own room, and returned presently with some crumpled -papers in her hand. -</p> - -<p> -“There must have been three, but I can only find two. I remember the -<i>dhobi</i> sent some message about a paper in the pocket of a dress that -went to the wash. I must have thrust it away and forgotten all about -it. Don’t look at me with huge reproachful eyes in that way, Colin. I -suppose you think I ought to work an embroidered case for George’s -letters, and keep them next my heart, don’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I thought that was the sort of thing girls did generally. Of course I -mightn’t be allowed to see them, Pen?” He spoke in jest; but his eyes -were fastened hungrily on the letters. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh dear, yes! I don’t mind. Why shouldn’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -Colin was taken aback. He had no experience in love-affairs, but it -struck him that this was not quite as it should be. He smoothed out -the crushed sheets as she handed them to him. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, they look just as if you had crumpled them up and thrown them -across the room!” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, if you are anxious to know, that is exactly what I did do, and -the ayah picked them up and put them carefully into a drawer.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pen!” Colin was shocked. “What could you have been thinking about?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I happened to be in a bad temper, that was all, of course. Don’t -worry your head about it, dear. Now that you are better, I don’t so -much mind all the other things. I oughtn’t to be cross and horrid, -when I’m so thankful about you, ought I? but I’m tired, and we’ve been -anxious about you for so long.” -</p> - -<p> -She bent over him and kissed his forehead, and Colin, though -perplexed, acquiesced in her evident desire to change the subject. But -he watched her anxiously, noticing the irritability which was so new -in her voice, and the restless unhappiness of her face when she -thought herself alone. -</p> - -<p> -“Pen,” he said suddenly one day, “has anything gone wrong between you -and George?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, nothing particular,” she answered listlessly. “It’s only that if -I knew I should never see him again, I should be perfectly happy.” -</p> - -<p> -“Penelope!” he cried, aghast. “You would like him to disappear, -perhaps to be killed, like poor Whybrow?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. But if he would only -fall in love with some one else, and never come back here!” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t think you are at all in a right state of mind, Penelope.” -Colin’s didactic instincts were roused by this heartless speech. -</p> - -<p> -“Nor do I,” she answered promptly. “I have known it for a long time. -The best that can be said of it is that I am forcing myself to do evil -that good may come—or that you are forcing me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I?” cried Colin indignantly. “You know I want nothing but your -happiness.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t think of my happiness at all. You think of me merely as a -means of reclaiming George, not as a person to be considered -separately.” -</p> - -<p> -“I hope you are not going to adopt Lady Haigh’s jargon, Pen. It -doesn’t sound nice from a young lady’s lips.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think that what I have gone through since Christmas has been -nice to feel?” she demanded hotly, then broke down and fell upon her -knees by his couch in tears. “Oh, Colin, I am very miserable. I can’t -bear it. Help me. Be kind as you used to be. Think of me a little, not -only of George. He has come between us ever since we came to India. I -can’t marry him—I can’t!” -</p> - -<p> -Colin put out a shaking hand to touch hers. He had honestly thought he -was doing the best both for his sister and his friend in bringing -about a marriage between them, and the sudden revelation of Penelope’s -state of feeling came upon him with a shock. “Don’t, Pen,” he said -feebly. “I didn’t know you felt like this about it. I’ll speak to -George—awful blow—poor fellow——” his voice failed, and Penelope -sprang up in alarm. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I have made you ill again! You are faint!” she cried in terror. -“Oh, Colin, don’t. I will marry him—it was always to please you.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no.” He lifted his hand with difficulty. “We will talk of this -again—not just now. I will think about it. Poor George! poor fellow!” -and as she fetched him a restorative Penelope felt, with a renewal of -the old bitterness, that his first thought was still for Ferrers, not -for her. -</p> - -<p> -It was not until the next day that he returned to the subject; but in -the interval she caught his eyes following her wistfully, as though he -was trying to discover the reason for such hardness of heart. But his -voice was gentle as he held out his hand to her when they found -themselves alone, and said, “Now, Pen, come and sit here, and let us -talk things over.” It did not occur to her to resent this fatherly -attitude on the part of a brother no older than herself. He had always -stood somewhat apart, and taken the lead, and until the last few -months she had never admitted a doubt of his insight or his wisdom. He -looked at her searchingly as she sat down beside him. “There is one -thing I must ask first,” he said. “Is there any one else?” -</p> - -<p> -The blood rushed to Penelope’s face, but she looked him straight in -the eyes. “There is,” she said. “But don’t look at me in that way, -Colin, as if I had been encouraging some one else while I was engaged -to George. I think you might know me better than that.” -</p> - -<p> -“You should have told me about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“How could I? There was nothing to tell. He didn’t speak until it was -too late.” -</p> - -<p> -“But when he spoke, you came at once to the conclusion that you -preferred him to George?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not quite that. It wasn’t so sudden. I—I liked him before, but -because he said nothing I thought he—didn’t care.” -</p> - -<p> -“And now you wish George to release you that you may become engaged to -him?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s not that! He promised never to speak of that sort of thing -again. How dare you say such things to me, Colin? It’s not just—you -know it isn’t. If you knew anything about love—but you don’t—— It -is simply that I can’t promise to love and obey one man when I know in -my heart that I don’t love him, but some one else.” -</p> - -<p> -She had sprung up from her low seat and confronted him with flushed -cheeks and grey eyes flashing. Colin hardly knew his quiet sister, and -he felt abashed before her indignation. “Forgive me, Pen,” he said. “I -only wanted to know all the ins and outs of the matter. Why didn’t you -tell me about it before?” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think you are an encouraging person to tell things to?” -demanded Penelope, still unreconciled. “No, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean -to say that. It was my promise, Colin. You were so shocked at the idea -of my breaking it, I thought I would sooner die. And so I tried to -forget the—the other, and to like George, but I couldn’t make myself -feel as I ought. I don’t want to hurt you—I know how fond you are of -George—but it was the difference, the dreadful difference between the -two men. I couldn’t help seeing it more and more.” -</p> - -<p> -“And so you were very miserable?” She was beside him again now, with -her face buried in his cushions, and his tone was tender. -</p> - -<p> -“So miserable. And I have felt so wicked, Colin. It was almost a -relief when you were so ill, and I couldn’t think of any one but you. -When Elma came and made me go and rest, I couldn’t sleep, because the -thought of George used to seize me like a terror. It was horrible to -think of his coming back.” -</p> - -<p> -Colin was stroking her hair, but there was a little bitterness in his -voice as he said, “I seem to have been making a mistake all along. If -I had guessed there was another man it would have been different; but -I thought a girl could not want anything more than a kind husband, -whom she might hope to help by her companionship. I knew Lady Haigh -had prejudiced you against poor George——” -</p> - -<p> -“No, that is not fair. I was quite willing to believe in George again -on your word, but he never took the slightest trouble to show me that -he cared for me. Even when I told him that before Christmas, he only -made a kind of pretence, as if he knew I should have to marry him -whether I liked him or not. I know I have been very wrong, Colin, but -it was in listening to George at all, when I knew I didn’t care for -him. It isn’t fickleness, really. I have tried hard to like him.” -</p> - -<p> -“And now I must tell him that you prefer some one else, and want him -to release you?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, tell him that I can’t marry him.” -</p> - -<p> -“That is not enough. Do you think it is a pleasant thing for me to -have to confess that my sister has made a promise she cannot keep, and -that I must throw myself on his mercy to set her free? And poor George -himself! You may tell me I know nothing about this sort of thing, but -it will be a terrible blow to him. No, it is not your fault, -Pen—altogether. You should have spoken before, but I am to blame too. -I will undertake to settle the matter with George, and I only trust -that I may be mistaken in thinking how much he will feel it.” -</p> - -<p> -“He won’t release me,” she said hopelessly. “I asked him myself.” -</p> - -<p> -“Without giving any reason? Of course he thought it was merely girlish -fickleness or a love of teasing.” Penelope moved her head -unrepentantly. “Pen, you talk of my being unjust to you, but you are -frightfully unjust to George. As if any gentleman would keep a girl -bound when he knew she cared for some one else! You try to excuse -yourself by making him out a blackguard.” -</p> - -<p> -“I can only judge him as I have found him,” she said, wondering -whether Colin’s firm faith in his friend had really a power to bring -out the best side of Ferrers’ character. Colin looked for good in him, -and found it; she expected nothing better than lack of sympathy and -consideration, and duly met with it. Was she herself in part to blame -for the unsatisfactory features of his conduct? If she had been able -to love him and believe in him with the whole-hearted confidence he -had inspired in her as a child, if she could have continued to regard -him as an ideal hero, accepting his careless favours with rapture, and -never dreaming of demanding more affection than he chose to give, he -might possibly have developed into the being she believed him. -Possibly, but not probably. An unreasoning devotion would in all -likelihood have wearied him, even if her sharp eyes had not beheld the -flaws in his armour; but it was not possible to Penelope to go about -with her eyes shut. Perfection she did not expect, but Ferrers could -never have satisfied her now that she was no longer a child, even had -his deficiencies, not been accentuated by the contrast with that other -lover of whom she strove conscientiously not to think, but whose very -faults she owned to herself that she loved. -</p> - -<p> -For some time after her explanation with Colin, the subject of Ferrers -was not mentioned between them. Colin had discarded the idea of -writing to him, lest the letter should be lost or fall into the wrong -hands; but there was a tacit understanding that he was to meet him as -soon as he returned to India, and tell him everything. Even this -unsettled state of affairs brought comfort to Penelope. Her -cheerfulness returned, and she was uneasily conscious that Colin must -think her absolutely heartless when he heard her talking and laughing -with Lady Haigh, who was quite aware that he was inclined to consider -her Penelope’s evil genius. But one day there came news that put an -effectual end to all cheerfulness for the time. Penelope was crossing -the hall when she heard Sir Dugald, who was just coming out of the -drawing-room, talking to Colin. -</p> - -<p> -“After all,” he was saying, “it’s much too soon to give up hope. Many -things might happen to interrupt communications. He may even be on his -way back already.” -</p> - -<p> -A groan from Colin was the only answer, and Penelope asked anxiously, -“What is it, Sir Dugald? Is anything the matter?” -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her before answering, and the look convinced her that -Lady Haigh kept him informed, possibly against his will, of the course -of affairs. “We are anxious for news of Ferrers,” he said. “Since the -letter which told of his arrival at Gamara, neither the Government nor -any one else has had a word from him.” -</p> - -<p> -“And they think——?” -</p> - -<p> -“They think—but we trust they are beginning to despond too soon—that -he may have shared poor Whybrow’s fate, whatever it was.” -</p> - -<p> -For a moment—a moment for which she could never forgive -herself—Penelope was conscious of an involuntary feeling of relief. -No more of those letters, which had caused her such indignant misery -at first, with their calm assumption of the writer’s authority over -her, and their wealth of affectionate epithets (mentally repudiated by -the recipient), and which she had felt as a constant reproach since -her talk with Colin. Then came a quick revulsion of feeling. To what -horrors was she willing to doom this man who had loved her, merely to -save herself humiliation and discomfort? She ran into the -drawing-room, where Colin was lying on his couch with his face to the -wall. -</p> - -<p> -“Colin, he must be saved!” she cried. “Don’t let us lose time. They -waited so long after the news of poor Mr Whybrow’s disappearance -before doing anything. Can’t he be ransomed? There is Saadullah -Kermani, the trader—he travels to Gamara, and would arrange it. I -will give all my money—it isn’t much in the year, but we could -realise the investments, couldn’t we?—and my pearl necklace is worth -a good deal, and there are my brooches and things. You would give what -you could, wouldn’t you? and I know Elma would help. Oh, and there is -Mr Crayne. We can get quite enough money together, surely?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s not a question of money.” Colin turned a white, drawn face -towards his sister. “If we knew that he, or Whybrow either, was in -prison, there might be some hope. Whether he was seized in order to -extort money or political concessions, we might come to terms. But if -he disappears, as Whybrow did, without leaving a trace, and the Khan’s -government deny that they know anything about him, what can we say? -The only thing is for some one to go and search for him, and it must -be done.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, not you, Colin! not you!” cried Penelope, almost frantically. -</p> - -<p> -“I shall not decide in a hurry. I mean to wait a week, in case the -letters have been delayed by snow in the mountains, or by fighting -among the tribes. If we hear nothing then, I shall write to the -Government of India, asking to be sent to look for him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Colin, you mustn’t go!” she wailed. “You are all I have now.” -</p> - -<p> -“It may not be necessary,” he said. “I can’t say more than that.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope thought afterwards that she had never spent such a long week -in her life. In terrible contrast to her former wish that Ferrers -might not return was her feverish anxiety to be assured that he was -actually on his way back. But no news came, and telegrams from -Calcutta told that the authorities there had very little hope. They -pointed out that they had agreed most reluctantly to send Ferrers to -Gamara, and their forebodings seemed in a fair way of being justified. -Nothing had been heard of Ferrers or from him by the end of the week, -and Colin wrote at once to offer his services to go in search of his -friend. The reply was prompt and decisive. The Government had no -intention of sending any further mission to Gamara. -</p> - -<p> -“I must get leave of absence, and travel as a private individual,” was -all the comment Colin vouchsafed when he saw the joy which Penelope -could not hide. “It will make things a little more difficult, but -Government aid really doesn’t seem to do much good.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I wish I could speak to Major Keeling before he does, and beg him -not to grant him leave!” thought Penelope, as she saw him mount his -pony—he was allowed to ride a little by this time—and take the -direction of the town; but it seemed as though Major Keeling had -divined her wishes without hearing them. He was in his office, -digesting an acrimonious rebuke from headquarters on the subject of -the young officer upon whom he had seized to replace Ferrers, and his -refusal of Colin’s request was sharp and short. -</p> - -<p> -“Go to Gamara—six months’ leave? Certainly not. We are short-handed -already. I wonder you have the face to ask it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You can’t expect me to leave my friend to be tortured to death, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“What does it signify to you what I expect? You won’t get leave from -me to go on such a wild-goose chase.” -</p> - -<p> -“Major Keeling, I earnestly entreat you to grant me this six months. I -cannot leave Ferrers to his fate.” -</p> - -<p> -“What are you standing there talking for—taking up my time? You won’t -do any good if you stay till to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -“He is my friend. I must try to save him.” -</p> - -<p> -“And your brother-in-law that is to be? It makes no difference.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, sir, that is not my reason. In fact, my sister has determined to -break off her engagement, and I shall have to tell him so, but——” -</p> - -<p> -Major Keeling sprang up furiously. “What do you mean by coming here -and trying to tempt me, sir? You shall not go to your death for -Ferrers or any one else, unless it’s in the way of duty. Be off!” -</p> - -<p> -Nothing but the enlightenment which broke suddenly upon Colin would -have sufficed to make him leave the office without irritating the -Commandant by further argument, but for a moment the discovery -overshadowed in his mind even the thought of Ferrers. He had felt some -natural curiosity as to the identity of the man whom Penelope -preferred to his friend; but as she did not offer to gratify it he had -not pressed her, thinking that Porter was almost certainly the person -in question. Now it occurred to him that Penelope might be of use in -asking for the leave which Major Keeling was so determined not to -grant, but he repressed the thought sternly. He would do nothing that -would allow Penelope or any one else to think that he recognised the -slightest bond between her and the man who had supplanted Ferrers. -</p> - -<p> -Leaving the office, he saw Sir Dugald riding past, and joined him, -telling him of the unsuccessful issue of his application. Sir Dugald, -who may have been primed beforehand by Penelope, was much rejoiced, -and inwardly blessed Major Keeling’s wisdom, but was careful not to -hurt Colin’s feelings. -</p> - -<p> -“It would mean certain death for you, after all,” he said; “and you -have your sister to think of, you know. Why not see what money can do? -Let us go and see that old sinner Saadullah. He might be able to make -inquiries for you, and he starts for Gamara in a week or two.” -</p> - -<p> -They rode out to the piece of land on the north of the town which had -been set apart as a camping-ground for traders and small bands of -nomads, and threaded their way between the lines of squalid tents and -through the confusion of camels, horses, and human beings, towards the -encampment of Saadullah Kermani, which was somewhat withdrawn from the -rest. Most of the men who were hanging about saluted the two officers -with more or less goodwill, but a hulking fellow who was lounging -against a pile of merchandise stared at them open-mouthed, and on -being hastily prompted by a neighbour as to his duty, burst into an -insolent laugh. Sir Dugald turned his pony sharply aside, and seizing -the man by some portion of his ragged garments, shook him until his -teeth chattered, then released him and ordered him to beg pardon -unless he wanted a thrashing. Forced to his knees by his companions, -the man stuttered out some kind of apology, adding in a sulky murmur -something that the Englishmen could not hear. -</p> - -<p> -“What does he say?” asked Sir Dugald of the trader himself, who had -come up by this time. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing, sahib, nothing; he is the son of a pig, one who cannot speak -truth. He utters lies as the serpent spits forth venom.” -</p> - -<p> -“He said something about Gamara, and I wish to know what it was.” -</p> - -<p> -“I said,” interrupted the cause of the discussion, “that the Sahibs -who ride here so proudly, and ill-treat true believers, would find -things rather different in Gamara, like their friend Firoz Sahib.” -</p> - -<p> -“What do you know about Firoz Sahib?” demanded Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“Only that he has turned Mussulman to save his life,” grinned the man. -“Oh, mercy, Heaven-born, mercy!” as Saadullah and his servants fell -upon him, all trying to beat him at once. -</p> - -<p> -“No, let him speak,” commanded Sir Dugald. “Is this true that you -say?” he asked the man. -</p> - -<p> -“I know only that one morning Firoz Sahib was not to be found in the -house that had been appointed for him, and it was said that he had -insulted his Highness, and had been given his choice of Islam or -death,” was the sulky answer. -</p> - -<p> -“Did you hear anything of this?” asked Sir Dugald of Saadullah. -</p> - -<p> -“It was talked of in the bazars, sahib; but many things are spoken -that have no truth in them,” replied the trader deferentially. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, we will see you again. I would advise you to teach that fellow -of yours to keep his mouth shut.” -</p> - -<p> -“It shall be done, sahib. He is a fool, and the grandson of a fool,” -and Saadullah pursued the two officers out of his camp with profound -bows. As soon as they were clear of the tents, Colin turned to Sir -Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“This settles it,” he said. “I shall throw up my commission and go to -Gamara.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch18"> -CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">THE ALLOTTED FIELD.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">From</span> this determination Colin could not be moved. He wrote off -immediately to Mr Crayne, asking him to obtain leave for him to resign -his commission without delay, since Major Keeling remained obdurate, -and join Saadullah Kermani’s caravan when it left Alibad for Gamara. -Mr Crayne, whose anxiety for his nephew’s safety was embittered by the -remembrance that it was he himself who had obtained him his perilous -post, made a flying journey to the river station, and summoned Colin -to meet him there, that they might talk things over. The old man was -aghast when he heard Colin’s plans. He would attempt no disguise, seek -no credentials from the Government, invoke no protection if danger -threatened. Bible and Koran in hand, he would go to the wicked city -simply as a friend in search of a friend, proving to the orthodox of -Gamara from the books they held sacred their abuse of the duties of -hospitality. Eager as he was that some definite step should be taken, -Mr Crayne recoiled from sending Colin to what seemed certain death, -and could hardly be dissuaded from dismissing the project as summarily -as Major Keeling had done. But at last Colin’s entreaties induced him -to send for Saadullah from Alibad, and after long and anxious -consultations with the trader he began to see a glimmering of hope in -the scheme. During the short time he had been on the border, Colin had -acquired a high reputation for sanctity among the natives. His austere -life, the ascetic qualities which made him unpopular among his -comrades, his willingness for religious discussion, were so many -causes for pride to the men of his troop, from whom his fame spread -first to the bazar-people of Alibad and then to the tribes. He was not -credited with the possession of miraculous powers, like Major Keeling, -but it was very commonly believed that he was divinely inspired. The -discussions which took place in his verandah might have bred -ill-feeling but for the courtesy and tact with which he conducted -them, and the bigoted Mussulmans who came to confound him and went -away defeated took with them a feeling almost of affection for their -antagonist. He might be a Kafir and a smooth-faced boy, but he could -argue against the wisest Mullahs and send them away with a lurking -doubt that what they had heard and rejected might in reality be a -message from God communicated by an angel. -</p> - -<p> -Since this was the case, Saadullah thought there was good reason to -hope that Colin might be able to visit Gamara in safety. The -undertaking was fraught with peril, of course, but it was significant -that the only European who had in the course of many years been -allowed to leave the city uninjured was an eccentric missionary who -had followed much the same plan. There was little likelihood of -rescuing Ferrers, the trader admitted; but if Rāss Sahib obtained the -Khan’s ear, he might at any rate be able to ascertain his fate, -perhaps even bring back his bones for burial. It was from Saadullah -that Mr Crayne learned the unpalatable fact that Ferrers was the last -man who should have been sent to Gamara, that his self-assertion and -absence of tact would be a standing irritation to the Khan and his -people, and that the sporting characters of the Alibad bazar had only -disagreed as to the shortness of the time in which he would offer -deadly insult to the prince or his religion, and duly disappear. With -Rāss Sahib it was different, for he cared nothing for slights to -himself, only to his faith, and his courage in opening discussion at -the very seat of Moslem culture, coupled with his kindly and courteous -bearing, ought to win him friends enough to ensure his safety. -</p> - -<p> -Thus urged, Mr Crayne consented, with many misgivings, to further the -project. He obtained leave for Colin to resign his commission, and -persuaded the Government not to veto the journey. He saw that he had -ample command of money, and intrusted Saadullah with a further supply, -to be used in case his charge found himself in any difficulty or -danger, and also authorised them to draw upon him should more be -needed. Colin’s way was rendered as smooth as possible, and the -resulting conviction that he was right in undertaking the journey made -it easy for him to bear the contemptuous coldness of Major Keeling and -the wondering remonstrances of his friends. He was very kind to -Penelope, who could hardly bear him out of her sight, clinging to him, -as it were, in a desperate endeavour to hold him back, while he put -her gently aside, pressing on towards the goal he had in view. Her -unavailing misery angered Lady Haigh to the point of fiery -indignation, and at last she determined deliberately that she would at -least make an attempt to bring Colin to a sense of the error of his -ways. She gave Sir Dugald orders to take Penelope for a ride one -morning, and fairly hunted them both out of the place, promising to -overtake them before long, then pounced upon Colin as he rode up, and -informed him that he was to have the honour of escorting her. It gave -her a malign pleasure to note his evident unwillingness, though he -could not well refuse to ride with her, and she wasted no more words -until they were out in the desert. -</p> - -<p> -“You are determined to take this journey to Gamara?” she asked him, -slackening pace suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her in surprise. “Yes,” he answered simply. -</p> - -<p> -“And not even the thought of your sister will make you change your -mind? You are leaving her absolutely alone in the world.” -</p> - -<p> -“She is not without friends. You and Haigh will always look after her. -Poor George Ferrers has no one. Moreover, I feel that to some extent I -am taking the journey in Penelope’s place.” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t mean to say that you expected her to go?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, though she did cry out at first that she ought to go, not I. -What I mean is that it was for her sake Ferrers went to Gamara, hoping -the mission would lead to some appointment on which he might marry, -and as soon as he is gone she turns round and declares that nothing -will induce her to marry him.” -</p> - -<p> -“If you asked my opinion, I should say that he went to Gamara because -he had made Alibad too hot to hold him; but if you prefer the other -view, I can’t help it. Mr Ross, tell me, what is there about Captain -Ferrers which captivates you? You are not generally a lenient judge, -but you condone in him things which you would rebuke unsparingly in -your other comrades, and you can’t forgive your sister for refusing to -marry him, though it’s clear it would mean lifelong misery to her if -she did. Why is it?” -</p> - -<p> -Colin looked at her in unfeigned perplexity. “He is my friend, Lady -Haigh. When I was a little chap, and he a big fellow always getting -into scrapes, we were like Steerforth and Copperfield,—no, I don’t -mean that”—perceiving that the comparison might be interpreted -unfavourably to Ferrers—“like David and Jonathan—he was David, of -course. In those days Pen was as fond of him as I was. I may be unjust -to her, as you seem to imply, but I can’t get over her fickleness. It -was settled so long ago that he was to marry her and I was to live -with them—what better arrangement could there have been? George has -never changed, I have never changed, but Penelope has. What led to the -change, you know best.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not I,” returned Lady Haigh warmly; “except that it was a very -natural repugnance to a lover who seemed to take everything for -granted, and who, as we now know, never thought of her at all.” -</p> - -<p> -“Lady Haigh,” said Colin earnestly, “you are doing him an injustice. -He did not know of her arrival in India, was not expecting her; but if -he had been allowed to meet her, and she had met him on the old -footing, without interference, this sad alienation would never have -taken place. You meant well when you warned her against him, but——” -</p> - -<p> -“Mr Ross,” said Lady Haigh, settling herself firmly in the saddle, and -punctuating her sentences by little taps of her whip on the pommel, “I -meant well, and I did well. You would have sacrificed your sister to a -man who was not worthy to black her shoes. I saved her.” -</p> - -<p> -“You have always misjudged him, and I fear you always will. I know he -has done many wrong and foolish things—he has told me so himself, -with bitter regret. But he had cast them behind him; all he needed to -help him to rise was the love of a good woman, and he and I both hoped -he had found it. I begin to fear now that even before he started on -his mission he must have felt some misgivings about Penelope’s -affection for him——” -</p> - -<p> -“Probably,” said Lady Haigh savagely. “Oh, go on.” -</p> - -<p> -“Some fear that her heart was not really his. What is the result? This -terrible, miserable rumour which is taking me to Gamara.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you actually hold your sister accountable for Captain Ferrers’ -becoming a Mohammedan? Now will you kindly tell me what you think a -man’s Christianity is worth if it depends on a girl’s feelings?” -</p> - -<p> -“A girl’s actions, rather,” said Colin sorrowfully. “Think, he has met -with a terrible shock. All his ideas of woman’s truth and -steadfastness are destroyed. I know that ought not to destroy his -faith; but he has always been one who depended upon the visible for -his grasp of the invisible. And that is why I am going to Gamara, in -the hope that he may yet be saved.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you really expect to bring him back with you?” she asked, awed. -</p> - -<p> -“No. I feel that I shall not return,” he answered. “But I have also -the feeling that in some way, even if it is only by my death, George -will be brought back.” -</p> - -<p> -“After this”—Lady Haigh spoke brusquely, that he might not see how -much she was moved—“I quite understand that it is no use asking you -to consider Penelope. She doesn’t count in such a case.” -</p> - -<p> -“I have done what I can for her,” he replied. “I have left her all I -have. And I suppose”—he spoke with evident distaste—“that some day -she will marry the Chief.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, I thought even you would scarcely venture to think she was still -bound to Captain Ferrers. Well, Mr Ross, since you have got so far, -you must do something more. You must leave a message with me that I -can give her if that ever comes about. If I have to persecute you -unceasingly till the day you start, I will have it.” -</p> - -<p> -“No; that is too much. I may foresee such a marriage, I cannot prevent -it, but I will not encourage it.” -</p> - -<p> -“You will give me leave to tell your sister that you thought such a -thing might possibly happen, and that you wished her all happiness in -it. She has gone through agonies in trying to keep the promise which -you imposed upon her, and she did keep it till it nearly killed her. I -believe you think you are the only person who has a right to quote -texts, but I ask you what good it will do if you are willing to give -yourself up to be killed at Gamara, and yet can’t show common charity -to your own sister?” -</p> - -<p> -Colin rode on in silence with a rigid face, and Lady Haigh wondered -whether he would refuse to speak to her again. She had caught sight of -Sir Dugald and Penelope coming towards them, and felt that her chance -was nearly over. Would he speak? She held her breath with anxiety. -Suddenly he turned to her with a smile which transfigured his whole -face. -</p> - -<p> -“You are right, Lady Haigh, and I am wrong. I have judged poor Pen -hardly, and she must have thought me unkind. If it—this marriage -should ever come off, tell her that from my heart I prayed for her -happiness and Keeling’s. And I thank you heartily for showing me what -a Pharisee I have been.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh scarcely dared to believe in her success, but she noticed a -new tone of tenderness in Colin’s voice when he spoke to his sister -presently, and the look of incredulous joy in Penelope’s grey eyes -showed that she saw it too. “I have done a good morning’s work,” said -Lady Haigh to herself. -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -For the few days that remained before Colin’s departure, Penelope was -happy. The barrier which had existed between her brother and herself -since their arrival in India seemed to have suddenly disappeared, and -she felt she was forgiven. Ferrers’ name was not mentioned between -them, but Colin was able to allude to the object of his journey -without unconsciously reproving his sister by the sternness of his -voice. Lady Haigh could not discover whether he had told her of his -presentiment that he would not return, though she guessed that -Penelope must have divined it, for the girl was clearly hoping against -hope, unable to believe that the renewed confidence between Colin and -herself could be brought to an end so quickly. -</p> - -<p> -All too soon, as it seemed to Penelope, Colin started in the train of -Saadullah Kermani, and life at Alibad resumed its ordinary course, -sadly flat, stale, and unprofitable in the estimation of one at least -of the inhabitants. Penelope’s occupation was gone. She had joyfully -resigned her interest in Ferrers, she could do nothing for Colin but -pray for him, and she missed daily, almost hourly, the interest which -Major Keeling had been wont to bring into her life. He never tried to -see her alone now—in fact, his visits to the fort had ceased, and all -her information as to the affairs of the border was derived from the -stray pieces of news extorted from Sir Dugald by Lady Haigh, who was -bent on educating him up to the belief that she and Penelope took an -intelligent interest in public affairs. Not that these were exciting -at this time. The young officer whose services Major Keeling had -requisitioned was peremptorily restored to his original regiment, much -against his will, and the usual heated correspondence followed. The -border was quiet—in the case of Nalapur much too quiet, Major Keeling -considered, and his demand for two additional European officers was -finally refused by the authorities. The Haighs moved into their new -house, which was at last pronounced safe, and Major Keeling took up -his quarters in the imposing but gloomy building he had erected for -himself. He abjured punkahs and every other kind of device for -modifying the heat of the place, but he had laid aside his heroic -views in planning the Haighs’ house. The lofty rooms were fitted with -every appliance that had yet been discovered for making a Khemistan -summer less intolerable, and there was a large <i>tai-khana</i>, or -underground room, for refuge in the daytime, and a spacious roof for -sleeping on at night. Lady Haigh and Penelope found plenty to do in -making the bare rooms habitable with the small means at their -disposal. Those were the days when anything of “country” make was -regarded by the English in India as beyond the pale of toleration; but -Lady Haigh, looking round upon the remnant of her belongings which had -survived the journey up-country and the hands of the native servants, -came to a heroic decision. It was all very well for people down at the -coast, or generals’ wives and other <i>burra mems</i>, to have things out -from home, but the subaltern’s wife must do her best with country -goods; and she and Penelope worked wonders with native cottons and -embroidered draperies, and the curious rugs which were brought by the -caravans from Central Asia. Perhaps, as she herself confessed, she -might not have been so courageous had it not been practically certain -that none of the great ladies from the coast would ever see and -criticise her arrangements, but for her part she did not think the -native designs were so very hideous after all, or their colouring as -barbaric as it appeared to most English people in those far-off days -of the Fifties—devotees as they were of grass green and royal blue. -</p> - -<p> -Into the midst of these domestic labours came the thunderbolt which -Penelope told herself she had been expecting, but which was no less -appalling. Saadullah Kermani’s caravan returned, without Colin. There -had been no remissness on Saadullah’s part, no rashness on Colin’s; -but there was a factor in the case the presence of which they had not -suspected. Colin had entered Gamara in the humble and distinctive -attire prescribed for Christians approaching the holy city, and had -behaved with the utmost prudence, making no attempt to penetrate where -he should not, or attack the usages of the place. His -travelling-companions bore unanimous testimony to his gentleness when -he was engaged in controversy by different Mullahs, and to the absence -of bitterness when these took leave of him. Many came to visit him at -the Sarai, and some even invited him to their houses. There was every -hope that his presence would come to the Khan’s ears, so that he might -be commanded to the palace as a guest, and have a chance of attaining -the object of his journey, when one day some of his first -acquaintances brought with them to the Sarai no less a person than the -Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq. He had been one of those who had held -controversies with Colin during flying visits to Alibad, and he had -expressed his determination to vanquish the Kafir at last. His -language had been violent in the extreme, his taunts and provocations -almost unbearable; but Colin had kept his temper, and discomfited his -opponent by appealing to the audience to contrast the tone of their -respective arguments. The Mirza had departed in a rage, and the very -next day, in passing one of the colleges, Colin had been assailed by a -tumultuous throng of students, who poured out upon him, and, seizing -him, demanded that he should abjure Christianity. Upon his refusal to -repeat the <i>Kalima</i> they had set upon him with sticks and stones, and -he was only rescued by a body of the city police, who arrested him and -carried him off to the palace, the precincts of which included the -prison. Since then nothing had been heard of him. Saadullah had made -tentative and cautious inquiries in every possible direction, but the -only result was to bring upon himself a warning from the head of the -police that he also was suspected, as having brought the Kafir into -the city, and would do well to keep his mouth shut and finish his -business in Gamara as quickly as he could. By inquiry from the friends -of other prisoners, it was ascertained that Colin was not in the -common prison; but this only lent fresh horror to his fate, for to the -awful regions beyond no one penetrated. And nothing had been heard of -Ferrers, either good or bad. -</p> - -<p> -When Penelope heard the news she fainted, and recovered only to beg -Lady Haigh piteously to ask Major Keeling to come to her. She must see -him, she said, when her friend demurred; and Lady Haigh, with some -misgivings, sent off the note. She felt that she would like to warn -Major Keeling when he arrived, and yet she did not know exactly what -she feared, but there had been a wild look in Penelope’s eyes which -frightened her. -</p> - -<p> -“She is not herself. You will make allowances?” she said eagerly, as -she took him into the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -“Make allowances—I, for her?” he said, with such an accent of -reproach that Lady Haigh was too much flurried to explain that she was -anxious he should not be drawn into doing anything rash. It was some -comfort to her to notice how big and strong he looked, not the kind of -man who would allow himself to be hurried into unwisdom, and she could -not wonder that Penelope felt him a tower of strength. But the words -which reached her as she left the room made her stop her ears and -hurry away in despair. She knew exactly how Penelope had run to meet -him, white-faced, trembling, with dilated eyes, and seized his hand in -both hers as she cried, “Oh, Major Keeling, save him, save him!” -</p> - -<p> -“What is it you want me to do?” he asked her, the laborious speeches -of condolence he had prepared all forgotten. -</p> - -<p> -“I thought—oh, surely, you will go to Gamara, won’t you? You are so -well known, and the natives have such a regard for you—you could make -them give him up.” -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. The childlike simplicity of the appeal was almost -irresistible, but he knew better than she did how hopeless such an -attempt would be made by the very fame of which she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, don’t say you won’t do it!” she entreated. “He is all I have.” -</p> - -<p> -“Listen,” he said. “You know I thought the journey so dangerous that I -refused to the last to let your brother go. Yet there was a chance for -him. For me there would be none, the moment I set foot beyond our own -border. You will do me the justice to believe that I would not grudge -my life if losing it could do any good, but it could do none. And even -if it would, I could not go. I am in command here, and I cannot desert -my post.” -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him as though she had not heard him. “It is Colin,” she -said; “all I have. And you said—you cared.” -</p> - -<p> -“And you say I don’t if I won’t go?” he asked sharply. “Then you are -talking of what you don’t understand. I could not leave Khemistan -if—even if it was your life, and not your brother’s, that was at -stake—even if it tore my heart out.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope passed her hand over her brow. “No,” she said feebly, “it -would not signify then. But for Colin!” -</p> - -<p> -“Sit down and listen to me quietly. I have pacified this frontier, and -I am the only man who can keep it quiet. Nalapur is only looking for a -pretext to break with us; if my back was turned they would invade us -without one. My post is here; it is my duty to remain; I will -not—dare not leave it. Penelope, do you ask me to leave it? If you -do, I am mistaken in you. Look up, and tell me.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope raised her head as if compelled by his tone, and her eyes met -his. “No,” she said helplessly, “it would be wrong. You must not go. -But oh, Colin, Colin!” -</p> - -<p> -She bowed her head again and broke into a passion of sobs, for her -last hope was gone. She heard Major Keeling get up and walk up and -down the room, and knew that her sobs were agonising to him, but she -could not restrain them. At last she found him close to her again, his -hand on her shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“Dear,” he said, “let us bear it together. When you are in the -doctor’s hands after a fight, it helps if there’s a friend beside you, -whose hand you can grip hard. Take mine, Penelope.” -</p> - -<p> -Her sobs ceased, and she looked at him wonderingly through her tears. -He went on speaking in the same low, deeply moved voice— -</p> - -<p> -“I can’t bear to leave you to go through it alone. Let me help. You -know I know what trouble is. Give me the right to share yours.” -</p> - -<p> -“Now—when Colin may be tortured, starving, dying? Oh, how can you?” -cried Penelope. “Oh, go, go away, and never talk like this again. I -don’t want my trouble to be less. Why should I? Share it! how can you -share it? you won’t even—no, I don’t mean that. I have only Colin, -and he has only me.” -</p> - -<p> -He looked down hopelessly at her bowed head. “I cannot desert my -post,” he said, and turned to leave her. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, no!” cried Penelope, following him. “It was wicked of me to -say what I did. Only, please don’t talk like that again. Let me feel -you are a real friend. Oh, you will help him if you can, won’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -“I dare not encourage you to hope for your brother’s safety, but it -might be possible to obtain news of him. If it can be done, it shall -be. Trust me—and forgive me.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch19"> -CHAPTER XIX.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">A WOUNDED SPIRIT.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Instead</span> of appearing in the gardens that evening, Major Keeling rode -out, accompanied only by an orderly, to Sheikhgarh. He had never met -the Sheikh-ul-Jabal face to face since the day of the eclipse and of -his triumphant vindication, but important pieces of information had -come to him several times by strange messengers, testifying to the -friendliness of the recluse. Curious to relate, the destruction of the -marvellous legend which had grown up about the supposed identity of -the two men seemed to have had little or no effect. The dwellers on -the border and the tribesmen alike possessed a strong love of the -miraculous, and resented the attempt to deprive them of a wonder. -Taking refuge in the fact that only a very few people, and most of -those Europeans, had seen Major Keeling and the Sheikh side by side, -they maintained with obstinate pertinacity their original theory that -the one man led a double existence—as British commandant by day and -head of the Brotherhood of the Mountains by night. From this belief -nothing could move them, and as the result tended to the peace of the -border, their rulers had left off trying to convince them against -their will. It is to be feared that Ismail Bakhsh, the orderly, -foresaw a large increase of credit to himself from this journey, by -the unconcealed joy with which he entered upon it; and yet, marvellous -as were the tales he told on his return, his experiences were confined -to remaining with his horse at the point where visitors to the -fortress were first challenged. To Major Keeling’s astonishment, no -attempt was made to blindfold him on this occasion, the guards saying -that they had orders from the Sheikh to admit Kīlin Sahib freely -whenever he might come, and he rode with them to the gate of the -fortress, noticing the care with which the place was defended. This -time the Sheikh came to meet him at the entrance, and taking him up to -the room over the gateway, possibly from fear of eavesdroppers in the -great hall, sent away all his attendants as soon as the proper -salutations had passed. He seemed anxious, and was evidently expecting -news of importance. -</p> - -<p> -“There is no message from Nalapur—no outbreak?” he asked eagerly, as -soon as they were alone. -</p> - -<p> -“I have heard nothing,” answered Major Keeling in surprise. “What news -should there be?” -</p> - -<p> -“It is well. Yet there must be news soon. The Amir and Gobind Chand -are, as it were, crossing a gulf by a rope-bridge—one false step -means destruction. But they will not return to firm ground.” -</p> - -<p> -“But you sent me word that the Sardars refused to stand their -exactions and oppression any longer, and that they had been obliged to -promise to meet them, and inquire into their grievances.” -</p> - -<p> -“True, and the assembly is to meet this week; but what will follow? -Are Wilayat Ali and the Vizier men who will render back the gains they -have extorted? Not so; they will divert the minds of the Sardars by -making war upon one of their neighbours. And which neighbour will that -be?” -</p> - -<p> -“All right. Let them come!” laughed Major Keeling. “If they are fools -enough to hurl themselves on our guns they must. I have done all I -could to keep the peace. When is it to be—at the end of the week?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, not so soon. They will but inflame the minds of the Sardars, and -send them home to prepare for war. It cannot begin yet.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then what were you afraid of? You seemed to expect danger of some -sort.” -</p> - -<p> -“I feared one of those false steps of which I spoke. The Amir and -Gobind Chand might have acted foolishly in trying to seize or murder -some of the Sardars, or the Sardars might have sought to avenge their -wrongs by killing them. Then the country would have fallen into such -confusion that I must needs act, and the time is not come.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then you have an axe of your own to grind!” cried Major Keeling. “It -can’t be allowed, Sheikh. You must not plot against a neighbouring -power while you are on British territory.” -</p> - -<p> -The Sheikh looked at him with something like contempt. “Why does -Kīlin Sahib thus allow his wrath to bubble up? To what purpose should -I plot against the Nalapur usurper? For myself I need no more than I -have here.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what do you mean? Why should you take action?” -</p> - -<p> -“Does not Kīlin Sahib see that it might fall to me to use all -possible efforts to restore peace if there should be civil war in -Nalapur? I am known to all parties, but attached to none of them, and -I am near of kin to the royal house.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t believe that was what you meant, but you look honest enough,” -muttered Major Keeling in English. Aloud he said, “Well, Sheikh, -understand that you must not undertake anything of the kind on your -own account. I am responsible for this frontier, and I may be very -glad to make use of your good offices, but I can’t have you forcing my -hand.” -</p> - -<p> -“Fear not,” said the Sheikh. “For another month I can do nothing, and -it is my strongest hope that Nalapur will remain peaceful at least as -long. If there is opportunity, I will send word to Alibad before -taking any step, but if Wilayat Ali and Gobind Chand move first, do -not blame me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t like all these mysteries, Sheikh. What is it that holds you -back for a month, and also keeps Nalapur quiet?” -</p> - -<p> -“They are two different things, sahib. The lapse of time will set me -free to act, but the Amir and Gobind Chand will not go to war until -their embassy has returned from Gamara.” -</p> - -<p> -“From Gamara? Why, that was the very—— What are they doing there?” -</p> - -<p> -“Their embassy to the Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq,” said the Sheikh, evidently -enjoying his visitor’s astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -“But I came to speak to you about that very man. What in the world -have they got to do with him at Nalapur?” -</p> - -<p> -“Has Kīlin Sahib forgotten that the man was employed by Gobind Chand -and his master as a spy upon me, and that after attempting to slay me -he escaped? Disowned by Firoz Sahib, in whose service he had been, he -durst not remain in Khemistan, and he feared to return to Nalapur, -having failed in his mission. But both at Bab-us-Sahel and at Shah -Nawaz he had gained much information as to the plans and methods of -the English, and he knew that the Khan of Gamara would rejoice to -obtain this. Therefore he fled thither, and by reason of the news he -brought, and his own art and cleverness in making himself useful to -the Khan, was speedily raised to be one of his councillors and keeper -of the prison.” Major Keeling nodded assent. “But now the Amir and -Gobind Chand need his services again, for he knows many things about -the Brotherhood—of which he is a perjured member—and this stronghold -of mine, and some months ago it came to my knowledge that they had -sent messengers with rich gifts and great promises, to desire him to -return to Nalapur. That he dares not do, for if he sought to leave -Gamara after the favours he has received, the Khan would kill him; but -if the gifts were large enough, doubtless he would tell the messengers -all, or nearly all, that he knows. Therefore I say that Wilayat Ali -and the Vizier will not make war until the messengers return.” -</p> - -<p> -“But you may not hear of their return. They may come back secretly. -They may have returned now.” -</p> - -<p> -Again the Sheikh smiled pityingly. “Nay, sahib; was the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal born in the town of fools? Following close upon the -Nalapuri embassy went a messenger of mine in the garb of a holy -dervish, who entered Gamara only very shortly after them, and was -bound to remain in the city, performing the proper rites at each -mosque and holy place in turn, as long as they were there, and then to -attach himself to their caravan for the return journey. Having gone -with them as far as Nalapur, he will change his disguise and return -hither.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then he has not returned yet?” asked Major Keeling meditatively. -</p> - -<p> -“Have I not said it? Moreover, a secret word was brought me from him -by one in Saadullah Kermani’s caravan to the effect that he thought -the messengers would not leave Gamara for three or four weeks.” -</p> - -<p> -“Three or four weeks after Saadullah? Then he may bring later news. -This is the very matter on which I came to speak to you, Sheikh. You -know that two of my officers have gone to Gamara and disappeared?” -</p> - -<p> -“Firoz Sahib, who has adopted the faith of Islam, and Rāss Sahib, -whom the people call the Father of a Book,” said the Sheikh calmly. -</p> - -<p> -“Those two; and we—I—want to know the truth about them, not simply -bazar gossip. When your man comes back, ask him if he has learnt -anything. If he has been keeping watch on Fazl-ul-Hacq, he ought to -have found out something, surely. If there is no news, it may mean -that they are both in prison still, and you might be able to suggest -some way of getting them liberated.” -</p> - -<p> -The Sheikh stroked his beard slowly. “It may be so,” he said. -“Nevertheless, you may be well assured, sahib, that the bazar talk is -true so far as relates to Firoz Sahib. As to Rāss Sahib, they say he -is dead, and I am ready to believe it. But when my messenger returns I -will send him to you, and you shall ask him any questions you will. -But when he returns, then will be the time to keep good watch along -the Nalapur border.” -</p> - -<p> -Quite agreeing with this opinion, Major Keeling took his leave, and as -he rode home, thought over what he had heard. The still unexplained -reason which kept the Sheikh from taking any active part in the -affairs of Nalapur must be in some way connected with his vow of -seclusion, he thought. Perhaps it had been taken for a term of years, -which would end in a month. He was more disappointed than surprised by -the Sheikh’s evident reluctance to help in taking any steps for -Colin’s rescue, but he could not help feeling that there was a change -in the man. Had he worn a mask hitherto, and was he now letting it -fall; or were his feelings towards the English altering, and his -friendship turning to hostility? Major Keeling had hoped that by means -of the host of agents who kept the Sheikh in touch with all parts of -Central Asia he would have been able to arrange at least that Colin -should be ransomed; but he could realise the risk involved in any step -that might reveal to the orthodox supporters of tyranny the presence -in their midst of members of the heretical brotherhood. However, if -the dervish brought no news, it might be possible to engage him to -undertake another journey to Gamara for the express purpose of -inquiring into Colin’s fate, and this was all that could be hoped for -at present. -</p> - -<p> -To this conclusion Major Keeling came reluctantly just as he reached -the point from which Alibad could first be seen as he emerged from the -hills. The sun had already set, but the desert was lighted up by a -gorgeous after-glow, which was equally kind in bringing out the best -points of the view and in hiding its defects. Alibad was no longer the -cluster of mud huts which its ruler had found it. The white and buff -and pink walls of the new houses shone out brilliantly over their -screen of young trees, and the dun mass of the fort, with its squat -turrets, seemed to brood protectingly above the lower buildings. The -native town was a formless blur in the gathering darkness to the left, -and on the right, along the line of the temporary canal which supplied -the place until the great works already in progress should be -completed, were blots and splashes of green, marking the patches of -irrigated land where cultivation was in full swing. The programme -which Major Keeling had drawn up when he came to Khemistan was in -process of realisation, and that very fact chained him to the soil. He -had not allowed Penelope to see how much he was tempted to undertake -the mission she had proposed to him. It was the kind of thing that -appealed to him most strongly—to throw off the burden of routine, -have done with office-work, and plunge into the desert, where his hand -would be against every man’s, and his life would depend alternately on -his sword and his tongue. The proposal fascinated him even now; but -before him lay the town which was at once the sign and the result of -his labours. He shook the reins, roused Miani from a blissful -contemplation of nothing, and trotted briskly home across the plain, -followed by Ismail Bakhsh. -</p> - -<p> -After this visit to Sheikhgarh there was another month of waiting. -Major Keeling warned all his officers to be on the look-out for a -fakir or dervish who might come with a message; but although several -members of the fraternity presented themselves as usual in search of -alms, and were given every opportunity to speak if they would, none of -them had anything particular to say. The month had more than elapsed -when one day a respectable elderly man, dressed like an attendant of -some great family, and with a scribe’s inkhorn at his girdle, asked -leave to present a petition to Kīlin Sahib. Applicants of this sort -were always plentiful, owing to the breaking-up of the huge households -maintained by all the native princes before the annexation; and it was -Major Keeling’s policy to find employment for as many of them as -possible, lest they should seek to obtain a precarious livelihood by -going up and down among the ignorant peasantry and agitating against -British rule. The man was admitted into the office, and Sir Dugald, -who was sitting at a little distance, saw him put his hands together -in a submissive attitude, and heard him begin to pour out a long -rigmarole in low tones. But almost as Sir Dugald distinguished the -words “dervish” and “Gamara,” Major Keeling rose from his chair. -</p> - -<p> -“Come in here,” he said, opening the door of his private office. -“Haigh, you come too. Now, Kutb-ud-Din, let us have your story.” -</p> - -<p> -“The servant of my lord has little to tell him, but it is that which -he is anxious to know. For when my lord’s servant was at Gamara -disguised as a most holy dervish, so that he wore no clothes but a -rough mantle, and painted his body blue, and left his hair and beard -wild and long, he heard one day of a great sight that was to be seen -in the square before the palace. And forasmuch as his religious -meditation was interrupted by the passing to and fro and the loud -speaking of those that hurried to see this sight, he asked them what -it might be. And one told him one thing and one another, but all -agreed that it was such a sight as would rejoice the heart of a holy -man, and therefore my lord’s servant determined to go thither. And -coming to the square, the people made way for him, so that he stood at -last in a good place, and saw the Khan and a great company of soldiers -and counsellors come out of the palace. And at the head of the Khan’s -bodyguard he saw the Farangi, Firoz Sahib, of whose conversion all the -city had been talking, so great were the festivities at his -initiation——” -</p> - -<p> -“Stop!” said Major Keeling hoarsely. “Are you certain it was Ferrers -Sahib?” -</p> - -<p> -“My lord’s servant will swear it, if my lord so wills. Has he not -often beheld Firoz Sahib, both here and at Shah Nawaz? Moreover, his -history was known to all in Gamara. It seemed to my lord’s servant -that Firoz Sahib had been drinking <i>bang</i>, for his eyes were bright -and his face flushed, and Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, the renegade, rode at -his bridle-rein, as though to restrain him. And afterwards, when the -people were slow to disperse, he ordered the soldiers to charge the -crowd, and escaping from his friend the Mirza, rode down a Jew who -stood in his way, so that all who saw him fled. But that was not until -after——” -</p> - -<p> -“After what? Go on,” said Major Keeling impatiently, as the man -hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“Let my lord pardon his servant, if that which he has to say is not -pleasing to his ears, for the dust under my lord’s feet can but tell -what he saw. There was led out into the square, before the Khan and -his court and army, another Farangi, wearing chains that would not -suffer him to walk upright, and clothed in shameful rags; and a -whisper went about among the people that it was the young sahib whom -they called the Father of a Book.” -</p> - -<p> -“And was it?” demanded Major Keeling. -</p> - -<p> -“How can the servant of my lord say? It so chances that his eyes never -rested upon the young sahib while he was among his own people. But -this sahib was young and tall and lean, and white like a wall—yea, -even his hair was white, yet reddish-white like that of the sahibs, -not pure white like that of the people of this land——” -</p> - -<p> -“White—in those few weeks!” breathed Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, yes, go on,” said Major Keeling to the narrator. -</p> - -<p> -“And when the Farangi was brought out, proclamation was made by a -herald that his Highness, in his clemency, would offer the Kafir his -life on certain conditions, and that questions should be put to him in -Persian, and translated into Turki, so that the people might hear. -Then came forward Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, the accursed, and by command of -his Highness, asked the Farangi, ‘Wilt thou adopt the creed of Islam -and enter my army, like thy countryman yonder?’ But the Farangi, -drawing himself up in spite of his chains, made answer, ‘I am an -Englishman and a Christian, and I will neither enter thine army nor -become a Mohammedan. I choose rather to die.’ Then his Highness, in -great wrath, cried, ‘And die thou shalt!’ and the Farangi’s head was -struck off by an executioner with a great sword.” -</p> - -<p> -“And did he never look at Ferrers Sahib, or speak to him?” asked Major -Keeling. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, sahib; he kept his eyes turned away from him.” -</p> - -<p> -“That was not like Ross,” said Major Keeling to Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“But suppose Ferrers had visited poor Ross in prison, sir—tried to -get him to abjure Christianity?” suggested Sir Dugald. “He could not -have much to say to him after that.” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know. I should have expected Ross to think of him to the end. -And that was all?” asked Major Keeling of the messenger. -</p> - -<p> -“That was all, sahib; except that the Farangi’s body was exposed at -the place of execution, with the insults customary when a Kafir has -been executed, and that among the crowd there were some who said, in -the hearing of my lord’s servant, that in slaying the young Sahib the -Khan had certainly invited judgments, for there was a spirit in him.” -</p> - -<p> -“And that is all!” said Major Keeling heavily. “You have done well, O -Kutb-ud-Din, in bringing us this news. Here!” he scribbled an order -hastily, “take this to the pay-clerk without, and receive the rupees -he will give you. You may go. Now, Haigh,” he turned to Sir Dugald as -the old man bowed himself out with profuse thanks, “you must go home -and get your wife to break this to Miss Ross—and God help them both!” -</p> - -<p> -Once more there had come to Penelope, who thought she had given up all -hope, a blow which showed her that she had been unconsciously -cherishing a belief in Colin’s safety. He might escape from prison, -might be ransomed, his captors might even relent and release -him—there was always the chance of one of these; but now hope was -definitely taken away. And one terrible thought was in Penelope’s mind -day and night—it was her fault that he had gone to Gamara. At present -she could not even remember for her comfort the happier days which had -preceded his departure; she could only look back upon the past and -judge herself more harshly than Colin had ever judged her. Day after -day and night after night she tormented herself with that most -unprofitable of mental exercises—unprofitable, because the same -circumstances are never likely to recur in the experience of the same -person—of going over the events of the last two or three years, and -noting where she might have acted differently, with how much happier -results! If she had only been altogether different! If she had never -allowed herself to lose faith in Ferrers, if she had refused to -believe in the revelations which met her at Bab-us-Sahel, if she had -been willing to marry him before coming to Alibad, instead of putting -him on probation! If she had only loved him better—so that he would -not have had the heart to leave her to go to Gamara, or, having gone -there, would have found her love such a shield to him that he could -not have denied his faith! Her reason told her that it was impossible, -that Ferrers and she had grown so far apart that the woman could not -have given him the enthusiastic devotion which had been showered upon -him by the romantic little girl; but she blamed herself for the -change. Colin had never altered—why should she? It must have been -something wrong in herself that had made her first fail Ferrers when -he needed her, and at last draw upon herself Colin’s stern rebuke by -declaring that she could not keep her promise. If it had not been for -her Ferrers would not have gone to Gamara, and, but for him, Colin -would not have gone either. She was morally guilty of Colin’s death -and Ferrers’ abjuration of Christianity. And thus the awful round went -on, every variation in argument or recollection bringing her to the -same terrible conclusion, until Penelope almost persuaded herself that -she was as guilty in the sight of others as in her own. Every one must -know that she had those two lost lives on her conscience. They were -sorry for her, but how could they help blaming her? and she withdrew -herself from their pitying eyes. Lady Haigh humoured her at first, -when she insisted on taking her rides at a time when no one else was -about; but when Penelope refused to go out at all, and sat all day in -a sheltered corner of the house-top, looking northward to the -mountains, she became seriously alarmed. -</p> - -<p> -“Miss Ross not coming again?” asked Sir Dugald when the horses were -brought round one evening, and he had helped his wife to mount. -</p> - -<p> -“No, I can’t get her to come. The very thought seems to frighten her.” -</p> - -<p> -“Must be frightfully bad for her to mope indoors like this,” was Sir -Dugald’s prosaic comment. “Can’t you get her to exert herself a -little?” -</p> - -<p> -“Really, Dugald, one would think I was Mrs Chick. Why don’t you tell -me to get her to make an effort? She and I are so different, you see. -If I was in dreadful trouble I should work as hard as I could—at -anything, and entreat my friends, if they loved me, to find me -something to do. But Pen has left off even the things she usually -does, and simply sits and cries all day. I can’t very well suggest to -her that it’s rather selfish, can I?—though I know it must make the -house dreadfully dull for you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, don’t mind me,” said Sir Dugald kindly. “I have my consolations. -You are not a pale image of despair, at any rate.” -</p> - -<p> -“And the way she refuses to see people! Of course, no one would dream -of expecting her even to appear at a dinner-party, but to rush away if -poor little Mr Harris comes in, or any of them! Dugald”—her voice was -lowered—“do you remember that poor Mrs Wyndham at Bab-us-Sahel, whose -husband died of cholera on their honeymoon? She went mad, you know.” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Elma, pray don’t suggest such horrors. Why not get Tarleton -to come up and see Miss Ross?” -</p> - -<p> -“She won’t see him; that’s just it. But I have asked him to seize the -first opportunity he can of dropping in and taking her by surprise. -Then we shall know better what to do. Dugald!—I have an idea. Are you -ready to make a sacrifice?” -</p> - -<p> -“When I know what it is, I’ll tell you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, but it would be better for you not to know, you see.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thanks. I would rather not find myself pledged to throw up the -service, or get leave home, if it’s all the same to you.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s nothing of that sort—merely a way of spending the next two or -three months. No, it’s not expensive—not like going down to the coast -or to the Hills. But it will be very quiet and dull, and no chance of -fighting. Oh, don’t guess. I want to be able to tell the Chief that -you know nothing about it, so that if he is angry he mayn’t scold you. -You would sacrifice yourself to help Penelope, wouldn’t you?” -</p> - -<p> -“H’m, well—within limits,” said Sir Dugald. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch20"> -CHAPTER XX.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">THE ISLE OF AVILION.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">Miss Sahib</span>, the Doctor Sahib!” -</p> - -<p> -“The door is shut,” said Penelope hastily; but Dr Tarleton had -followed the servant up the stairs, and now stood on the house-top -confronting her. She glanced wildly round for a way of escape, but -there was none, and she was obliged to go forward and hold out a -nerveless hand to him. He looked her steadily in the face. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s no good trying to run away from me, Miss Ross. I was determined -to see you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, but there is nothing the matter with me,” wilfully -misunderstanding him. -</p> - -<p> -“Not with you, perhaps, but with other people.” He sat down, -uninvited. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, if I can be of any use——” but she spoke listlessly, and her -eyes had sought the mountains again. -</p> - -<p> -The doctor regarded her with a kind of restrained fury. “It makes -one’s blood boil,” he burst out, “to see a man—old enough to know -better, too—breaking his heart over a girl’s silly whims, and then to -find the girl absolutely wrapped up in herself and her own selfish -sorrow!” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you speaking of me?” asked Penelope, turning to him in -astonishment. She could scarcely believe her ears. -</p> - -<p> -“I am, and of the Chief. How dare you treat him in this way? Isn’t it -enough for a man to have the whole military and civil charge of the -district, and the burden of keeping the peace all along this frontier, -upon his shoulders, without his work being made harder by the woman -who ought to help him? Do you know that he worries himself about you -to such an extent that it interferes with his work?” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t know—— What do you mean? Did he tell you?” stammered -Penelope, utterly confounded by this attack. -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me? Do you know him no better than that? Of course not. But I -have eyes, and Keeling and I have been friends for five-and-twenty -years. Do you expect me to be blind when I know he can’t settle to -anything, and snaps at every one who comes near him, and contradicts -his own orders, and rides all night instead of taking proper rest? -Don’t pretend it’s not your fault. You know it is. For some reason or -other he does you the honour to care for you, and you won’t see him or -speak to him or send him a message, until he takes it into his head -that he has mortally offended you—how or why, you know best.” -</p> - -<p> -“I didn’t know,” murmured Penelope again. “Oh, but you must be -mistaken. It isn’t like him. Why should he care so much—all because -of me?” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t know, I’m sure. Some men are made that way,” said the doctor -grimly. “But there it is. And you, who ought to be on your knees -thanking God for the love of such a man, are doing your best to drive -him mad. What is a woman’s heart made of? Don’t you see what an honour -it is for you that he should even have thought of you? Don’t let me -see you laugh. Don’t dare.” -</p> - -<p> -“I—I’m not laughing,” she faltered hysterically. “But—but—oh, why -didn’t he come himself instead of sending you? I never thought——” -</p> - -<p> -“I should imagine he didn’t come because you have never allowed him to -see you for weeks. But as for his sending me——!” the doctor laughed -stormily. “If you want to punish me for what I have said to you, all -you have to do is to tell him I have been here, and what I came for. I -don’t think the province would hold me. But I don’t care, if it meant -that you would treat him properly. Do you know what Keeling did for -me? You mayn’t think it to look at me now, but I was as wild as the -best of them when I knew him first. He was a queer, long-legged -youngster when he joined the old —th, as dark as a native, pretty -nearly—‘fifteen annas’ was what they generally called him—and the -greenest, most innocent creature you can imagine. He must have had a -terrible time, for there was scarcely a single thing he did like other -people—I know I took my share in making his life a burden to him. -Well, we had been having a big <i>tamasha</i> of some sort one night, when -I was called to a bad case in hospital. An operation was needed, and -I insisted on doing it at once. It was a thing that demanded a steady -hand—and my hand was not steady—you can guess why. Something -slipped—and the man died. An inquiry was called for, and I knew that -I was ruined. There was only one thing to be done that I could see—to -blow out my brains—and I was just going to do it when Keeling came -in. None of the other men had come near me, though they must have -guessed, as he had done, what I was up to, but I suppose they thought -it was the best way out of it for me. He stopped me, though I fought -him for the pistol—vowed I should not do it, and talked to me until I -gave in. Of his own free will he offered never to touch wine or -spirits again if I would do the same, and actually entreated me to -accept the offer. He came and chummed with me in my bungalow—the -other men had cleared out; I daresay I was as savage as a bear—and -stood by me all through the inquiry. I lost my post—had to begin -again at the bottom of the list of assistant-surgeons—but he stood by -me. We were through the Ethiopian War together, and when Old Harry -picked him out to come up here and raise the Khemistan Horse, he got -leave for me to come too. Now you see what I owe to him; but he may -kick me out of Khemistan, and welcome, if it means that you will only -treat him decently.” -</p> - -<p> -“Indeed, indeed I have tried,” cried Penelope, with tears in her eyes, -“but I cannot meet him. It is like that with the others—I make up my -mind that I will see them, and try to talk, but as soon as I hear them -in the verandah I feel that I cannot meet their eyes, and I rush out -of the room.” -</p> - -<p> -“Pure nervousness. You must get over it, Miss Ross. No one expects you -not to grieve for your brother, but this sort of thing can do the poor -fellow no good, and it is very hard on those who are left.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know they must feel it is my fault——” -</p> - -<p> -“What?” shouted the doctor. “Your fault that your brother was -murdered? Come, come, this is arrant nonsense. You don’t mean to say -that you are making Keeling miserable on account of this delusion?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, it is worse with him.” She spoke very low. “I have never told -even Lady Haigh; but whenever I see Major Keeling, or even think of -him, Colin’s face seems to rise up before me—not dead, but as the -dervish described it, white and thin, and his hair white too. And I -can’t help feeling that it may be a—warning.” -</p> - -<p> -“A fiddlestick! Oh, you Scotch people, with your portents and your -visions! A warning of what?” -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t know—perhaps I ought not to tell you—but I am sure Colin -would have disapproved of my—caring for Major Keeling. And we were -twins, you know—what if he comes to show me that he disapproves of it -still?” She looked at him with wide eyes of terror. -</p> - -<p> -“Then you don’t know that in talking to Lady Haigh he gave her to -understand that he had no objection to your marrying the Chief—excuse -me if I speak plainly—and even looked forward to it? She told me as -much when she was confiding to me her anxiety about you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Colin said that to Elma, and she told you—and never told me!” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, how could she? Of course she felt the time hadn’t come—that you -would think her brutal, or horrid, or whatever young ladies call it. -She mentioned it to me in confidence, and I had no business to repeat -it; but I’m the sort of person that rushes in where angels fear to -tread—am I not? Having once opened my attack, I couldn’t keep my -biggest gun idle, could I? What! you won’t condescend to answer me?” -</p> - -<p> -“I am trying to understand,” she said in a low voice. “It ought to -make such a difference, and yet—there is Colin’s face.” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Miss Ross,” he spoke earnestly, as her eyes questioned his, -“this illusion of yours is purely physical. You have been brooding -over your brother’s fate for months, and living a most unhealthy -life—eating only enough to keep body and soul together, and refusing -to take exercise or accept any distraction. The wonder would have been -if you had not seen visions after it. Now that you know the truth -about your brother’s feelings, don’t you agree with me that nothing -would have grieved him more than to know you had made such a bugbear -of him? At any rate, let us put the illusion to the test. You must -have a thorough change—Lady Haigh and I will arrange it—and see -nothing for a time of any of the people here. You don’t mind the -Haighs, I suppose? Very well; then the illusion will disappear, if I -am right. If not, you must see Keeling once, and definitely bring -things to an end. He is not the man to break his heart for a woman who -hasn’t courage to accept him”—he saw that Penelope winced—“but it is -this undecided state of affairs that is the trouble. And if you have -any heart at all, you will let him know that it is not his fault, and -that you hope things will be different in future.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how can I?” cried Penelope, following him as he took up his -<i>topi</i> and went towards the stairs. -</p> - -<p> -“How can I tell you? I only know what you ought to do; surely you can -devise a way of doing it. I wouldn’t have wasted my trouble on most -women, but it seemed to me that the woman Keeling cared for ought to -have more sense than the general run, and you’ve taken it better than -I expected. Put all that nonsense about warnings out of your head, and -leave the dead alone and think of the living. That’s all I have to -say,” and he was gone. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed as if Penelope was to have no reason for refusing to follow -Dr Tarleton’s advice, for Lady Haigh found an opportunity of unfolding -her plan to Major Keeling that very evening. He had invited her to -dismount and walk up and down with him while listening to the band, -and she gathered her long habit over her arm and seized her chance -joyfully. -</p> - -<p> -“You will think I am always asking for favours, Major Keeling, but I -want this one very much. Will you send my husband to inspect the -south-western district instead of Captain Porter?” -</p> - -<p> -“But Porter has his orders, and is making preparations,” he said, -looking at her in astonishment. “Have you quarrelled with Haigh, that -you are so anxious to banish him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Quarrelled? banish him? Oh, I see what you mean. How absurd! Of -course Miss Ross and I are going too.” -</p> - -<p> -“Are you, indeed? And may I ask whether the idea is Haigh’s or yours?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, mine. He doesn’t know anything about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“So I imagined.” He was looking at her rather doubtfully. “And have -you any particular reason for wishing to go?” -</p> - -<p> -“I think it will do Miss Ross good—to take her away from old -associations, and people that she knows, I means.” -</p> - -<p> -“And from me especially?” he asked bitterly. Lady Haigh answered him -with unexpected frankness. -</p> - -<p> -“Exactly—from you especially,” she said. “I really believe she will -appreciate you better at a distance—no, not quite that. I want her to -miss you. At present it is a kind of religious duty to Colin’s memory -not to have anything to do with you; but when you are not there I -think she will see that she has been turning her back on what ought to -be her greatest blessing and comfort.” -</p> - -<p> -Major Keeling looked as if he could have blushed. “Very well,” he said -meekly. “If you can bring Haigh round to it, you shall go.” -</p> - -<p> -“And shall I put it right with Captain Porter?” asked Lady Haigh, with -an easy assurance born of success. “I know he’ll be quite willing to -stay here if I tell him it’s for Pen’s sake,” she added to herself. -</p> - -<p> -“Thank you, I think I am the best person to do that,” he replied, and -again Lady Haigh caught the doubtful look in his eyes, of which she -was reminded later when she found that the change of plan had put her -husband into a very bad temper, though he would not give her any -reason for it. The fact was that, as the Sheikh-ul-Jabal had -predicted, the return from Gamara of the envoys sent to consult Mirza -Fazl-ul-Hacq, with whom his dervish follower had travelled, seemed to -have been the signal for the Nalapuri authorities to begin a series of -hostile acts. Troops—or rather the ragged levies of the various -Sardars—were being massed in threatening proximity to the frontier, -fugitive criminals were sheltered and their surrender refused, and a -preposterous claim was put forward to the exclusive ownership of all -the wells within a certain distance of the border-line. The Amir was -undoubtedly aiming at provoking hostilities, and war might begin at -any moment. To Major Keeling it was a most comforting thought that the -European ladies could so easily be placed in safety without alarming -them, for the south-western district was protected against any attack -from Nalapur by a natural bulwark, the hills in which Sheikhgarh was -situated; and the obvious course for an invading army was to pour -across the frontier by way of the plains, with the undefended Alibad -as its first objective. But to Sir Dugald, who knew the state of -affairs as well as the Commandant, the case was different. He was the -natural protector of his wife and Penelope, and it was only to be -expected that he should remain to guard them, even in the place of -safety to which Major Keeling was so glad to consign them—and this -while there would be fighting going on round Alibad, and his beloved -guns would be delivered over to the tender mercies of little Harris or -any other subaltern who might choose to turn artilleryman for the -nonce! Sir Dugald registered a solemn vow that when the news of -hostilities came, he would leave his wife and Penelope in the nearest -fortified village, and make all speed back to Alibad himself. Elma -could not protest, after all she had said, and he would miss only the -very beginning of the fight. The thought consoled him, and he was even -able to take pleasure in withholding the reasons for anxiety from Lady -Haigh, who would have refused point-blank to leave Alibad if she had -guessed that fighting was imminent in its neighbourhood. Accordingly -he interposed no obstacles in the way of an immediate start, and as -Lady Haigh was as anxious to be gone as Major Keeling was to hurry her -off, the necessary preparations were soon made. Penelope was roused -perforce from her lethargy, and set to work, and she responded the -more readily to the stimulus that Dr Tarleton’s vigorous expostulation -seemed already to have waked her to something like hope again. -Nevertheless, she still felt unable to face Major Keeling; and it was -with a shock that on the afternoon of the start from Alibad she saw -him riding up the street, with the evident design of seeing the -travellers on their way. He made no attempt to attach himself to her, -however, apologising for his presence by saying that he had some last -directions to give Sir Dugald, and the two men rode on together. They -had nearly reached the hills before Major Keeling turned back, and -Lady Haigh at once claimed her husband’s attention. -</p> - -<p> -“Dugald, do you think my horse has a shoe loose? There seems to be -something queer about his foot, but I didn’t like to interrupt you -before.” -</p> - -<p> -Calling up one of the grooms, Sir Dugald dismounted and went to his -wife’s assistance, and in the hum of excited talk which ensued, Major -Keeling had a momentary opportunity of speaking to Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“Am I to hope that this change will do you good, and enable you to -come back here?” he asked, bending towards her from his tall horse. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I—I hope so,” she stammered. “Why?” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you hope so? Wouldn’t you rather be ordered home?” -</p> - -<p> -His tone, restrained though it was, told Penelope that the question -was a crucial one. With a great effort she raised her eyes to his. “I -hope with all my heart to come back to Alibad quite well,” she said. -“Because”—voice and eyes alike fell—“Khemistan holds all that I care -for—now.” -</p> - -<p> -She felt his hand on hers for a moment as she played with her pony’s -mane, and heard him say, “Thank you, thank you!” in a voice as low as -hers had been; but she knew that she had removed a load from his mind, -and she was glad she had conquered the shrinking repugnance which had -held her. The vision of Colin’s face had floated between them when she -looked at him; but she had taken her first step towards breaking the -spell, and he could not know the effort it had cost her to defy her -brother’s fancied wish as she had only once defied him in his life. As -for Major Keeling, he rode back to Alibad in a frame of mind which -made his progress a kind of steeplechase. He put Miani at every -obstacle that presented itself, and drove his orderly to despair by -leaping the temporary canal instead of going round by the bridge. As -in duty bound, Ismail Bakhsh did his best to follow; and it was only -when he had helped him and his pony out of the water, and explained -matters to a justly indignant canal official, that Major Keeling -realised the unconventional nature of his proceedings. He made the -rest of the journey more soberly, planning in his own mind the last -steps to be taken to make Alibad impregnable to a Nalapuri army. The -Amir thought the place was defenceless, not knowing that in a few -moments any street could be swept from end to end by guns mounted in -improvised batteries. It was not for nothing that Major Keeling’s own -house and the various administrative buildings were so gloomy and -massive in appearance, or that the labyrinth of lanes in the native -town could be blocked at any number of points by the simple expedient -of knocking down a few garden walls. The Commandant had no misgivings -as to the fate of the town, but he was much exercised in mind by the -necessity of waiting to be attacked. The Nalapuri Sardars knew better -than to let a single man put his foot over the border until they were -quite ready, while in the absence of an actual declaration of war -Major Keeling could not cross it to attack them, and his only fear was -that they might succeed in dashing upon Alibad and spreading panic -among the inhabitants (though they could do no more), without giving -him time to intercept them and cut them up in the open desert. He -could only rely upon the efficiency of his system of patrols, and wait -for the enemy to make the first move. -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -Beyond the hills there was no rumour of war. The agricultural -colonies, so to speak, planted by Major Keeling on the land reclaimed -from the desert by irrigation, were prosperous and contented, and the -reformed bandits, of whom a large proportion of the colonists -consisted, were even more industrious and energetic than the -hereditary cultivators. This part of the district was kept in good -order by a European police-officer with a force composed of the -boldest spirits among the colonists, so that Sir Dugald had little to -do in the way of dispensing justice, and he passed on rapidly to the -wooded country nearer the hills. This was a kind of New Forest, -constructed by the former rulers of Khemistan as a <i>shikargah</i> or -pleasance for hunting purposes, regardless of the objections of the -ryots, who saw their villages destroyed and their lands given over to -wild beasts. On the expulsion of their tyrants, the people had begun -to creep back to their confiscated homes; and it was one of Major -Keeling’s anxieties to ensure the proper control of this -re-immigration. The forests were valuable government property, and as -such must be protected; but where a clear title could be shown to land -on the outskirts, and the claimants were willing to face the wild -animals, he was inclined to let them return, under due supervision. -But no European officer could be spared to undertake the task; and Sir -Dugald, as he moved from place to place, found little colonies -springing up in most unpromising spots. To organise the people into -communities with some form of self-government, appoint elders who -would be responsible for the behaviour of the rest and prevent wanton -destruction of the forests, and devise the rude beginnings of a legal -and fiscal system, was his work. Nothing could be satisfactorily done -while there was no permanent official in charge; but at least the -people understood that the Sahibs meant well to them, and they were in -a measure prepared for a more formal rule when it could be -established. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh and Penelope, who had not the cares of government upon -their shoulders, were much more free to enjoy themselves. They made -advances to the shy women and children of these sequestered hamlets, -who fled in terror from the white ladies, never having seen such an -alarming sight before. Sweetmeats and gaily coloured cloths were the -bribes that attracted them most readily, and after a time they would -become quite friendly, listening with uncomprehending patience while -Lady Haigh, who was a true child of her generation, tried to teach -them to adopt Western instead of Eastern ways. Those were the days in -which much stress was laid by reformers on the importance of -anglicising the native, and Lady Haigh was a good deal disheartened by -the slight result of her efforts. The women listened to her with -apparent docility, sometimes even did what she told them, under her -eye, and then went home and made their tasteless <i>chapatis</i>, or put -charms instead of eye-lotion on their babies, just as they had always -done. She gave up trying to teach them at last, and vied with Penelope -in making botanical collections, which were also a hobby of the day. -Penelope collected grasses, of which there were many varieties; and -Lady Haigh, not to be behindhand, began to collect wild-flowers, which -were much less abundant. Sir Dugald, whose tastes were not botanical, -collected skins and horns, for he managed to get a good deal of sport -in his leisure hours, and when there was nothing to shoot, he -inspected his wife’s and Penelope’s sketches, and sternly corrected -mistakes in drawing. It was a happy, healthy life, and the colour -began to return to Penelope’s cheeks and the light to her eyes. She -could think of Major Keeling now without the vision of Colin’s -anguished face rising between them, and the morbid feelings which had -preyed upon her so long had become by degrees less acute. She and Lady -Haigh called the district “the island-valley of Avilion,” rather to -the mystification of Sir Dugald, who knew his Dickens better than his -Tennyson. He was far too prudent, however, to show his bewilderment -further than by pointing out mildly that the district was neither an -island nor a valley—and besides, how could a valley be an island? -</p> - -<p> -“Dugald,” said Lady Haigh one evening, when Penelope happened to be -out of earshot, “don’t you think Major Keeling would like to pay us a -visit here?” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s not a bad place,” returned her husband, glancing round at the -tents pitched among the trees. “But who ever heard of a sub inviting -his chief out into camp to stay with him?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, I didn’t mean that exactly. He might come without being -definitely asked. He would be sure to like to hear how we are getting -on, wouldn’t he? Well, if I mentioned that you have had five tigers -already, and were going after another soon——” -</p> - -<p> -“You won’t mention anything of the kind,” growled Sir Dugald. “I’m -going to bag that man-eater, if any one does.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh laughed gently. “Well, perhaps I might find other -attractions as strong,” she said. “But I mean to get him here.” -</p> - -<p> -But circumstances over which she had no control were destined to -intervene. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch21"> -CHAPTER XXI.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">FIRE AND SWORD.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -“<span class="sc">Why</span>, Dugald, where are you off to so early?” cried Lady Haigh, -coming out of her tent at breakfast-time, and finding her husband and -his boy busy selecting guns, filling powder-flasks, and laying in a -store of bullets, flints, percussion-caps, and other necessaries -unknown to the sportsman of to-day. -</p> - -<p> -“After the man-eater. They’ve sent me <i>khubber</i> of him at last. It’s -right out at Rajkot, so I shall be gone all day, even if I don’t have -to wait over to-night. You needn’t get nervous if I do.” -</p> - -<p> -“You might just as well let us come,” she sighed argumentatively. -</p> - -<p> -“I have far too much respect for your life—and mine. If you came you -wouldn’t be satisfied without a gun, which would go off of its own -accord, like poor Mr Winkle’s, and then—well, I would rather be the -tiger than any human being in your neighbourhood.” -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t he horribly rude, Pen? We don’t want to go pushing through -jungle-grass after an old mangy tiger, do we? We are going to engage -in light and elegant employments suited to our sex. He knows quite -well that if I can’t shoot straight it’s his fault for not having -taught me. If only I had had the sense to learn before I came out, I -would slip away and get to Rajkot before him, and the first thing he -saw when he got there would be a dead tiger.” -</p> - -<p> -“More likely that I should find myself a sorrowing widower,” said Sir -Dugald, who was in high good humour at the prospect of getting a sixth -tiger. “No, no, stick to your weeds and straws, ladies, and don’t get -into mischief while I’m gone. You talked of going out to that dry -<i>jheel</i> to the eastward, and you can’t do much harm there. Take -Murtiza Khan with you, of course.” -</p> - -<p> -“He’s insufferably proud because he thinks he’s going to bag the -man-eater,” said Lady Haigh. “What he will be when he comes back I -really can’t imagine. I wish I could bewitch tigers, as that old man -in the village says he can. Then I would give this one something that -would keep it miles away from Dugald, however far he went.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald laughed pleasantly over this uncharitable wish as he handed -his second gun to the <i>shikari</i> who was to accompany him. The ponies -were already saddled, and he had only time for a mouthful of food -before starting, his last counsel to his wife being not to venture -farther from the camp than the <i>jheel</i> he had mentioned, as the sky -was curiously hazy, and he thought the weather was going to break up. -The winter rains had been unusually slight this year, so that the -country was already beginning to look parched, and the forest foliage, -which should still have been soft and fresh, was becoming quite stiff, -and what Lady Haigh called “rattly,” though the heat was not yet too -great for camping. The climate of Khemistan is so uncertain that a -thunderstorm was at least possible; but after Sir Dugald had ridden -away to the southward, his wife decided that the haze portended heat -rather than thunder, and that it would be perfectly safe to undertake -the expedition to the <i>jheel</i>. She and Penelope started soon after -breakfast, attended only by their two grooms and Murtiza Khan, a -stalwart trooper who was Sir Dugald’s orderly on occasions like the -present, when he was in separate command. The <i>jheel</i> proved a -disappointment, for it was so dry that the delicate bog-plants Lady -Haigh had hoped to secure were all dead, and the grasses were the -ordinary coarse varieties to be found all over the country. Lady Haigh -and Penelope soon tired of the fruitless search, and sat down to rest -on a bank pleasantly scented with sweet basil before taking to the -saddle again. They were conscious of a strong disinclination for the -ride back, the air was so hot, the track so dusty, and the forest so -shadeless. -</p> - -<p> -“It really is more like smoke than cloud,” said Lady Haigh, looking up -at the lowering sky, “and whenever there is the least breeze one -almost seems to smell smoke. I wish it wasn’t coming from the -direction of the camp. It’s horrid to leave the clear sky behind, and -ride straight into twilight. I wonder how far Dugald has got—whether -he will be out of the storm. He is sure to have fever if he gets wet. -I think I will send one of the servants after him with fresh clothes. -They would keep dry if I packed them in a tin box——” -</p> - -<p> -“What can that boy be saying?” interrupted Penelope, pointing across -the swamp to the belt of forest on the opposite side. A native boy, -unkempt and lightly clad, had appeared from among the trees, and -paused in apparent astonishment on catching sight of the two ladies -sitting in the shade, and the horses feeding quietly close at hand -under the charge of their grooms. Now he was shouting and -gesticulating wildly, and Murtiza Khan had hurried to the brink of the -reed-beds to hear what he was saying. -</p> - -<p> -“He must be warning us that the storm is coming on,” said Lady Haigh, -as the boy pointed first at the darkening sky, and then back in the -direction of the camp. “Pen! I am sure I smelt smoke at that moment. -Did you notice it?” -</p> - -<p> -Murtiza Khan turned his head for a second and shouted a sharp order to -the grooms, which made them bestir themselves to get the horses ready, -then asked some other question of the boy, who answered with more -frenzied gesticulations than ever. When the trooper seemed to persist, -he ran to a convenient tree and climbed up it like a monkey, and from -a lofty branch shouted and pointed wildly, then slid down, and -abandoning any further attempt at conversation, took to his heels and -ran at his utmost speed along the edge of the swamp towards the east, -where the sky was still clear. -</p> - -<p> -“What is it, Murtiza Khan?” asked Lady Haigh breathlessly, as the -trooper hurried up the bank towards her. -</p> - -<p> -“Highness, the forest is on fire. Will the Presences be graciously -pleased to mount at once? We must ride eastwards.” -</p> - -<p> -“But the camp? the servants? We must warn them!” cried Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“They will have seen the fire coming, Highness, for they are nearer it -than we. They will stand in the lake, and let the flames sweep over -them, and so save themselves. But we cannot go back, for we should -meet the fire before we reached the lake.” -</p> - -<p> -“But the Sahib!” cried Lady Haigh frantically. “He will be cut off. I -will not go on and leave him. We must go back.” -</p> - -<p> -“Highness, the Sahib is wise, and has with him the <i>shikari</i> -Baha-ud-Din, who knows the forest well. He will protect himself, but -the care of the Presences falls to me.” -</p> - -<p> -“I tell you I won’t go,” cried Lady Haigh. “Take the Miss Sahib on, -and I will go back alone.” -</p> - -<p> -“It must not be, Highness. The Sahib gave me a charge, and I swore to -carry it out at the risk of my own life. ‘Guard the Mem Sahib and the -Miss Sahib,’ he said; and I will do it. Be pleased to mount, -Highness,” as she still hesitated. -</p> - -<p> -“Sir Dugald would tell you to come, Elma,” urged Penelope. “If we -could do anything, I would say go back at once; but we don’t even know -exactly where he is, and delay now will sacrifice the men’s lives as -well as ours.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh looked round desperately, but found no remedy. Reluctantly -she allowed herself to be helped into the saddle, and the ponies -started off at once. For some time the grooms had found it difficult -to hold them, for they were turning their heads uneasily towards the -west, snuffing the air, and pricking their ears as though to listen -for sounds. Now they needed no urging to fly along the strip of sward -between the forest and the <i>jheel</i>; and it was with difficulty that -their riders pulled up sufficiently to allow Murtiza Khan to get in -front when the end of the swamp was reached, and a way had to be found -through the jungle. The trooper, on his heavier horse, rode first, -crashing through the underwood which had overgrown the almost -invisible track, then came the two ladies, and the grooms panted -behind, holding on to the ponies’ tails when the forest was -sufficiently open to allow of a canter. From time to time Murtiza Khan -looked back to urge his charges to greater speed, and on all sides the -voices of the forest proclaimed the imminence of the danger. Flights -of birds hovered distressfully over the riders’ heads, unwilling to -leave their homes, but taking the eastward course at last; and through -the undergrowth could be seen the timid heads of deer, all seeking -safety in the same direction. When a more open space was reached the -scene was very curious, for antelopes, wild pig, and jungle-rats, -regardless alike of the presence of human beings and of each other, -were all rushing eastwards, driven by the same panic. One of the -grooms even shrieked to Murtiza Khan that he saw a tiger, but the -trooper dismissed the information contemptuously. The tiger would have -enough to do to save himself, and would not pause in his flight to -attack his companions in misfortune. -</p> - -<p> -By this time there was no mistaking the smoke-clouds which travelled -in advance of the fire, and brought with them the smell of burning -wood and a confusion of sounds. The roar of the advancing flames, the -crackling of branches, with an occasional crash when a large tree -fell, filled the air with noise. The dry jungle burned like tinder, so -that a solid wall of fire seemed to be sweeping over it. Underfoot -were the dry weeds and sedges and jungle-grass, then a tangled mass of -brushwood, above which reared themselves the taller trees, poplar or -mimosa or acacia, all of them parched from root to topmost twig, an -easy prey. Presently one of the grooms jerked out an inquiry whether -it would not be better to abandon the ponies and climb trees, but the -trooper flung back a contemptuous negative. -</p> - -<p> -“There were three Sahibs did that,” he said, “and when the trees were -burnt through at the root, they fell down into the fire. Stay and be -roasted if ye will, sons of swine. The Memsahibs and I will go on.” -</p> - -<p> -They went on, the roar of the flames coming nearer and nearer, the hot -breath of the fire on their necks, the crash of falling trees sounding -so close at hand that they bent forward involuntarily to escape being -crushed, the frenzied pack of wild creatures running beside and among -the horses, forgetting the lesser fear in the greater. Suddenly in -front of them loomed up a bare hillside, steep like a wall. Murtiza -Khan gave a shout. -</p> - -<p> -“To the left! to the left!” he cried. “We cannot climb up here.” -</p> - -<p> -They turned the horses, noticing now that the stream of wild animals -had already divided, part going to the left and part to the right. One -side of their faces was scorched by the hot air; a sudden leap, as it -seemed, of the flames seized a tamarisk standing in their very path. -Murtiza Khan caught the ladies’ bridles and dragged the ponies past -it, then lashed them on furiously. The fire was running along the -ground, licking up the parched grasses. He forced the ponies through -it, then pulled them sharply to the right. A barren nullah faced them, -with roughly sloping sides, bleak and dry, but it was salvation. On -those naked rocks there was no food for the flames. Murtiza Khan was -off his horse in a moment, and seizing Lady Haigh’s bridle, led her -pony up the steep slope to a bare ledge. His own horse followed him -like a dog, and one of the grooms summoned up sufficient presence of -mind, under the influence of the trooper’s angry shout, to lead up -Penelope’s pony. They spread a horsecloth on the ground, and Lady -Haigh and Penelope dropped thankfully out of their saddles. They were -trembling from head to foot, their hair and habits singed, but they -were safe. On a barren hillside, without food or water, in a desolate -region, but safe. -</p> - -<p> -For some time they could do nothing but sit helplessly where they -were, watching with dull eyes what seemed the persistent efforts of -the fire to reach them. Tongues of flame shot out of the burning mass -and licked the bare hillside, then sank back thwarted, only to make a -further attempt to pursue the fugitives and drive them from their -refuge. The fire was no longer inanimate; it was a sentient and malign -creature, determined that its prey should not escape. Its efforts -ceased at last for lack of fuel, and the castaways on the ledge were -able to think of other things. Murtiza Khan began to improvise a sling -with a strip torn from his turban, and Lady Haigh, wondering what he -could intend to aim at, saw that a little higher up the nullah one of -the forest antelopes had taken refuge on a ledge similar to their own. -She turned on the trooper angrily— -</p> - -<p> -“What, Murtiza Khan! so lately saved and so soon anxious to destroy? -Let the creature escape, as God has allowed us.” -</p> - -<p> -“As the Presence wills,” said Murtiza Khan, with resignation, while -the antelope, catching the sound of human voices, took alarm and -bounded away. “I was but desirous of providing food, for we have here -only some broken <i>chapatis</i>. Is it the will of the Presence that we -should leave this place, and seek to find some dwelling of men in -these mountains?” -</p> - -<p> -“No,” said Lady Haigh shortly, “we wait here for the Sahib. If he is -alive he will seek us; if not, we will seek him.” -</p> - -<p> -The trooper did not venture to offer any opposition, and Lady Haigh -returned to her former attitude, gazing over the smoky waste, from -which the blackened trunk of a tall tree protruded here and there. She -had some biscuits in her plant-case, which she shared with Penelope, -and Murtiza Khan and the grooms made a meal of the fragments -discovered in the trooper’s saddle-bags, after which the three men -went to sleep, having duly asked and received permission. Lady Haigh -and Penelope scarcely spoke at all through the long hot thirsty hours -that followed. The sun beat down on them, reflected from the steep -walls of the nullah; but if they moved into the shade lower down, they -would lose the view. The fire had long burned itself out, and the -smoke-clouds lifted gradually, disclosing a gloomy expanse of black -ashes. The ground had been cleared so thoroughly that it seemed as if -it ought to be possible to see as far as the spot where the camp had -been, but the air was still too hazy, a dull grey taking the place of -the ordinary intense blue of the sky. There was no sign of life -anywhere on the plain which had been forest, but as the afternoon wore -on Penelope started suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -“Did you see, Elma?” she cried. “I am sure I saw a man’s face. He was -looking at us over those rocks,” and she pointed to the crest of the -cliff on the opposite side of the nullah. -</p> - -<p> -“It can’t be one of our men, for why should they want to hide?” said -Lady Haigh gloomily, returning to her watch. “I don’t see anything.” -</p> - -<p> -“But it must be one of the tribesmen, then, and they will attack us. -Do wake up Murtiza Khan, and let him go and look. Elma! you don’t want -to be taken prisoner, do you?” -</p> - -<p> -Thus adjured, Lady Haigh aroused the trooper, who descended into the -dry bed of the nullah and scaled the opposite height with due -precaution, but found no one, and reported that he could see nothing -but more rocks and barren hills. In returning, he ventured out on the -plain, at Lady Haigh’s order, that he might see whether it was yet -possible to traverse it. But when he turned up the black ashes with -the toe of his boot, they showed red and fiery underneath. -</p> - -<p> -“It may not be, Highness,” he said. “Neither man nor horse can cross -the forest to-day. Is it permitted to us to leave this spot?” Lady -Haigh’s gesture of dissent was sufficient answer. “Then have I the -Presence’s leave to send the grooms, one each way, along the edge of -these cliffs? It may be that the Sahib is looking for us round about -the place of the fire, and one of them may meet him.” -</p> - -<p> -To this Lady Haigh consented, and the two men started, rather -unwillingly, since both were afraid of going alone. The one who had -gone to the right returned very quickly, saying that he had seen a -man’s face in a bush, which turned out, however, to be perfectly -normal when he reconnoitred cautiously behind it, and that he was -going no farther, since the place was evidently the haunt of <i>afrit</i>. -The other was longer absent, and when he appeared he was accompanied -by another man, who was rapturously recognised by the fugitives as one -of the grass-cutters from the camp, who had gone with Sir Dugald to -Rajkot. Carefully hidden in his turban he bore a note, very dirty and -much crumpled, and evidently written on the upper margin of a piece of -newspaper which Sir Dugald had taken with him to provide wadding for -his guns. Lady Haigh read it eagerly, but as she did so her face -changed. -</p> - -<p> -“What happened when the Sahib had given you this <i>chit</i>?” she asked -imperiously of the grass-cutter. -</p> - -<p> -“The Sahib started with the <i>shikari</i> Baha-ud-Din in the direction of -Alibad, Highness, leaving his groom behind to tell any of the servants -that might have escaped from the camp to follow him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Bid them make ready the horses,” said Lady Haigh shortly to Murtiza -Khan, then read the note again with renewed disapproval. -</p> - -<p> -“Elma, what is it?” asked Penelope anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s nothing. I am a fool,” was the laconic answer. “Only—well, I -suppose one doesn’t care to have one’s heroism taken for granted, -however much one has tried to be heroic.” -</p> - -<p> -“But Sir Dugald is safe? He must be, from what Jagro said.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, I’m thankful for that. But this is what he says: ‘News just -brought by a villager that a Nullahpooree army under Govind Chund has -crossed the frontier through the mountains behind Sheykhgur, intending -to surprise Ulleebad from the south-west. They were guided by some one -who knows the country well, but must have fired the <i>shikargah</i> -accidentally in their march. I am sending this by Juggro, in the -earnest hope that he may fall in with you. I dare not delay; Ulleebad -must be warned. I join Keeling immediately; do you take refuge at -Sheykhgur. Moorteza Khaun knows where it is; he went there with the -Chief and me when Crayne was here. Tell the Sheykh of the invasion, -and ask him to give you shelter till I can come for you.’ Really -Dugald might be issuing general orders! The rest is to me—that he -feels it a mockery to write when he doesn’t know whether I am alive or -dead, and so on.” -</p> - -<p> -“But if he durst not lose any time——?” hesitated Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“My dear, I know that perfectly well. If we were dead he could do -nothing more for us; if we were alive we could look after ourselves. -His attitude is absolutely common-sensible. But he might have asked me -whether I minded before levanting in this way. No, he couldn’t very -well have done that. It’s a fine thing to have a Roman husband, Pen.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course it is, and you are proud of him for doing it.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, perhaps I am; but all the same, I wish he hadn’t! There’s -consistency for you. And now to try and make Murtiza Khan understand -what is required of him.” -</p> - -<p> -The task set before the trooper was not a light one. He could have -found his way to Sheikhgarh with tolerable ease from the direction of -Alibad, but from this side of the hills he had only the vaguest idea -of its position. It must lie somewhere in the maze of rocks and -ravines to the north-east, that was all he knew, and he led his party -up the nullah, which appeared to lead roughly in the desired -direction. It turned and twisted and wound in the most perplexing -manner, however, and it seemed a godsend when the figure of a man was -discernible for an instant on the summit of the cliff. He disappeared -as soon as he caught sight of the travellers; but the stentorian -shouts of Murtiza Khan, promising safety and reward, brought him out -of his hiding-place again, to peer timidly over the rocks. He belonged -to a distant village, he said, and was seeking among the hills for -three sheep that had been lost, and he could guide the party as far as -the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s outposts, beyond which he durst not go. Even -with reward in view, he would not come down into the nullah, but took -his way along the top of the cliff, often lost to view, and guiding -the trooper by shouts. When at length he stopped short, demanding the -promised coin, evening was coming on, and still there was no sign of -human habitation to be seen, but only dry torrent-beds and frowning -rocks. It chanced that Lady Haigh had a rupee about her—a most -unusual thing in camp-life—and this was duly laid upon a rock -indicated by the guide, who would not come down to secure it while the -travellers were in sight. -</p> - -<p> -It was not without some trepidation that Lady Haigh and Penelope saw -that their path now dipped down into a deep ravine, bordered by dark -overhanging cliffs; but they would not betray their fears before the -natives, and went on boldly. As soon as they had set foot in the -ravine, however, their ears were suddenly assailed by a tumult of -sound. Shouts ran from cliff to cliff, and were taken up and returned -and multiplied by the echoes until the air was filled with noise. Even -Murtiza Khan was startled, and the grooms seized the ponies’ bridles -and tried to turn them round. The ponies kicked and plunged, the -trooper stormed, and his subordinates jabbered, while Lady Haigh tried -in vain to make herself heard above the din. In vain did Murtiza Khan -assure the grooms that what they heard was only the voices of the -Sheikh’s sentinels, posted on the rocks above them; they swore that -the place was bewitched, and that legions of evil spirits were holding -revel there. Murtiza Khan was obliged to lay about him with the flat -of his tulwar before they would let go the reins, and allow the -ladies, whose position on the steep hillside had been precarious in -the extreme, to follow him farther into the darkness. They yielded -with the worst possible grace; and when the trooper, a few steps -farther on, shouted back some question to them, only the dispirited -voice of the grass-cutter answered him. The other two had fled. A -little later, and even the grass-cutter’s heart failed him, as the -twilight became more and more gloomy, and he slipped behind a -projecting rock until the cavalcade had passed on, then ran back to -the entrance of the ravine as fast as his legs could carry him. Lady -Haigh suggested going back to find the deserters, but the trooper -scouted the idea. The light was going fast, and to spend the night in -this wilderness of rocks was not to be thought of. They must press on -into the resounding gloom. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch22"> -CHAPTER XXII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">TAKEN BY SURPRISE.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">At</span> last the ravine broadened a little, and almost at the moment when -this became evident, voices were heard ordering a halt. It was -difficult to tell where the voices came from, but presently the -travellers distinguished a steel cap and a scarlet turban, and the -barrel of a matchlock, among the rocks on either side of the path. -Halting at the prescribed spot, Murtiza Khan entered into conversation -with the sentries, requesting that word might be sent to the Sheikh of -the arrival of the two ladies, who asked shelter for the night. A -third man who was within hearing was summoned and despatched with the -message, and the travellers resigned themselves to wait. The answer -which was returned after a quarter of an hour had elapsed was not a -gracious one. The Memsahibs and their attendant might enter if they -pleased, but they must put up with things as they found them, and -conform to the rules of the place. As the alternative was a night in -the open, Lady Haigh accepted the offer, with considerable reluctance, -and whispered to Penelope that if they were to be blindfolded on the -way up to the fortress, they must go on talking to one another until -the bandages were removed, to guard against any attempt to separate -them. But this precaution was not called for. It was now quite dark, -and three of the Sheikh’s men took the bridles of the ponies, and -began to lead them along, without the assistance of any light -whatever. The ladies and Murtiza Khan strained their eyes, but could -not distinguish anything in their surroundings beyond varying degrees -of blackness. Nevertheless, their guides seemed to have no difficulty -in keeping to the path, although in some places, judging by the sound -of the stones which rolled from under the ponies’ feet, it led along -the verge of a tremendous precipice. After what seemed hours of this -kind of travelling, the creaking of bars and bolts just in front -announced that a door was being opened, and Murtiza Khan was warned to -stoop. The gateway passed, they were led across the courtyard, and up -to the steps of the keep, where two old women were holding flaring -torches. Between them stood a boy of twelve or so, who came forward -and salaamed with the greatest politeness. -</p> - -<p> -“The Memsahibs are more welcome than the breaking of the rains in a -thirsty season. This house is at their disposal. Let them say what -they wish and it is already done. In the absence of the lord of the -place, let them behold their slave in me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then the Sheikh-ul-Jabal is away?” said Lady Haigh, interrupting the -flow of compliment. “And you are his son, I suppose?” -</p> - -<p> -The boy answered as though he had not heard the second question. “The -Sheikh-ul-Jabal and my brother Ashraf Ali rode away last night with -thirty horsemen, to attend a sacred feast. My sister Wazira Begum and -I are left in charge of the fortress, and I bid the Memsahibs welcome -in her name.” -</p> - -<p> -Accepting the assurance, the ladies dismounted, and the boy bustled -about with great self-importance, sending one of the old -women-servants to hasten the preparations for the guests’ comfort, -giving the ponies into the charge of the men who had led them to be -taken to the stables, and arranging that Murtiza Khan should be -allowed to sleep in the great hall, so that his mistresses might feel -he was not far off in case they needed protection. He had so much to -do, and so many orders to give, that it almost seemed as if he was -waiting as long as possible before introducing the visitors to his -sister; but at last he appeared to feel that there was no help for it, -and led the way resolutely behind the curtain, guided by the second -old woman with her torch. In the first room to which they came, a girl -was sitting on a charpoy. She had evidently put on her richest -clothes, and her fingers and wrists were loaded with jewels; but her -toilet was not complete, for she was so busy plaiting her hair that -she had no leisure even to look at the visitors. An old woman who -stood behind her was assisting in the hair-dressing, but apparently -under protest, for her young mistress was scolding her energetically. -</p> - -<p> -“O my sister, here are the Memsahibs,” said the boy, with considerable -misgiving in his tone, when he could make himself heard. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, these are the women?” Wazira Begum vouchsafed them a casual -glance. “This is the first time that Farangi beggars have come to our -door, but Zulika will find them a quilt to sleep on, and there are -plenty of scraps.” -</p> - -<p> -“O my sister, the Memsahibs are our guests,” began the boy -distressfully, but Lady Haigh interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -“It strikes me you are making a mistake, young lady,” she said, -marching across the room, and taking, uninvited, the place of honour -on the charpoy, at the hostess’s right hand. “Penelope, sit down -here,” indicating the next seat. “When the Sheikh-ul-Jabal returns, -will he be pleased to hear that his daughter has insulted two English -ladies who sought his hospitality? The English are his friends, and he -is theirs.” -</p> - -<p> -The girl had sprung from the charpoy as Lady Haigh sat down beside -her. “The English are pigs!” she exclaimed. “O Maadat Ali! O Zulika! -who is lady here, I or this Farangi woman? Will ye see her thrust me -from my own place?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, my sister, it is thou who art wrong,” returned the boy boldly. -“The women are great ladies among the English, and friends of Kīlin -Sahib, for so their servant told me. Thou art not wise.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then be thou wise for both! I will not stay here with these shameless -ones. Zulika may look to them.” -</p> - -<p> -“You are going to bed?” asked Lady Haigh placidly. “I think you are -wise, after all. And let me advise you to think things over. I don’t -want to get you into trouble, but the Sheikh must hear of it if we are -not properly treated.” -</p> - -<p> -Wazira Begum vouchsafed no reply, quitting the room in such haste that -she dropped one of her slippers by the way, and Maadat Ali, taking the -responsibility upon himself, ordered the old women to bring in supper. -While he was out of hearing for a moment Penelope turned to Lady -Haigh— -</p> - -<p> -“You know much more about it than I do, Elma, but we are quite alone -here. Is it prudent to make an enemy of the Sheikh’s daughter? She has -us in her power.” -</p> - -<p> -“That she hasn’t, I’m thankful to say. She is the little fury that -Dugald and Major Keeling fell in with when they were here, and the -Sheikh made short work of her then. She has some grudge of her own -against the English, evidently, and she thinks this is a good time to -gratify it. Why, Pen, to be prudent, as you call it, now, would make -every native in the place think that the day of the English was over -in Khemistan, and that we knew it, and were trying to curry favour -with them in view of the future. You must be more punctilious than -ever in exacting respect—in fact, I would say bully the people, if I -thought you had it in you to do it. It’s one of the ways in which we -can help the men at Alibad.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope laughed, not quite convinced, and the conversation was -interrupted by the reappearance of Maadat Ali, heading a procession of -women-servants bearing dishes. These were duly arranged on a small low -table, and the guests were invited to partake, the boy watching over -their comfort most assiduously. When the meal was over he delivered -them solemnly into the charge of old Zulika, adjuring her to see that -they wanted for nothing, as she dreaded the Sheikh’s anger. The old -woman, on her part, seemed genuinely anxious to efface the impression -of Wazira Begum’s rudeness, and bustled about with a will, dragging in -another charpoy, and bringing rolls of bedding. She apologised to Lady -Haigh for not coming herself to sleep at the door of the room; but her -place was always with her young mistress, and she would send Hafiza, -the servant next in seniority to herself, to wait upon the visitors. -Her excuses were graciously accepted, for Lady Haigh and Penelope were -both feeling that after the exertions and anxieties of this exciting -day, tired nature stood much in need of restoration. They tried to -talk for a moment when they had settled themselves in their unfamiliar -beds, but both fell asleep with half-finished sentences on their lips. -</p> - -<p> -They were roused in the morning by the voice of Maadat Ali, in the -passage outside their room, eagerly inquiring of old Hafiza whether -the Memsahibs were not awake yet; and as he gave them little chance of -going to sleep again, they thought it better to get up. Tired and -stiff as they were, it was a little disconcerting to remember that -riding-habits were perforce their only wear. Happily these were not -the brief and skimpy garments of to-day, but richly flowing robes, -long enough almost to reach the ground when the wearer was in the -saddle, and their straw hats and blue gauze veils were also devised -with a view to comfort rather than smartness. Clothes-brushes and -hair-brushes were alike unknown at Sheikhgarh, so that dressing was a -work of some difficulty; and it was rather a shock to find that the -frugal breakfast of <i>chapatis</i> and hard-boiled eggs, which was brought -in when they asked for food, was regarded as a piece of incredible -luxury. After breakfast they went to the curtain which separated the -zenana from the great hall to speak to Murtiza Khan, who had already -been out with some of the Sheikh’s men to look for the deserters of -the night before, but had not been able to find any trace of them. He -brought the news that the Nalapuri army had been seen on its march -round the southern extremity of the hills, moving towards -Alibad—which showed that Sir Dugald had not been wrong in thinking -there was no time to waste. The trooper also desired permission to -reconnoitre in the direction of the town by the usual route, in case -it might prove possible to get through with the news of the ladies’ -safety, and this Lady Haigh granted before she turned back into the -zenana with Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -The women’s apartments were built round a small inner courtyard, -gloomy in the extreme from its want of outlook, but possessing a tank -of rather stagnant water which was called a fountain, and some shrubs -in pots. In the verandahs round this court the whole life of the place -was carried on, the servants—all of them women of a discreet -age—performing all their duties in the open, to the accompaniment of -much chattering. Among them moved, or rather flashed, Maadat Ali, -questioning, meddling, calling down endless explosions of wrath on his -devoted head, but undoubtedly brightening the days of the old ladies -whom he alternately coaxed and defied. When he saw the visitors he -left the servants at once, and after ordering a carpet to be spread -for the Memsahibs, seated himself cross-legged on the ground, with his -back against the coping of the tank, and began to ask questions. His -subject was Major Keeling, whose brief visit more than a year before -seemed to have left a vivid impression. Was it true that Kīlin Sahib -was invulnerable to bullets, that he could make water flow uphill or -rise from the ground at his word, that he could read all the thoughts -of a man by merely looking him in the face? These inquiries and many -others had been answered, when a peculiar look on the boy’s face made -Lady Haigh turn round. Behind her, leaning against the wall of the -house, stood Wazira Begum, twisting a spray of mimosa in her fingers, -and trying to look as if she had not been listening to what had -passed. Lady Haigh rose and saluted her politely, prompting Penelope -to do the same, and after a moment’s hesitation the girl returned the -salutation courteously, if a little sulkily. It was evident that the -meeting of the night before was to be ignored, and Maadat Ali made -room for his sister joyfully at his side. -</p> - -<p> -“I knew she would come when she heard us talking about Kīlin Sahib,” -he said. “She hates him very much.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, very much,” echoed Wazira Begum. -</p> - -<p> -“When he came here,” pursued the boy, “she tried very hard to make him -afraid; but he would not be afraid, and therefore she hated him even -more than before. She has part of a tassel that she cut from his -sword——” -</p> - -<p> -“From his sword? Oh, from the sword-knot,” said Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“And she keeps it wrapped up in linen, like an amulet——” -</p> - -<p> -“Thou liest!” burst forth Wazira Begum furiously. -</p> - -<p> -“But I saw it, O my sister, and thou didst tell me it was to make a -great charm against him, to destroy him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thou wilt spoil the charm by talking of it,” pouted the girl, but the -angry crimson faded from her face. -</p> - -<p> -“Ask her why she hates him so much,” said Penelope to Lady Haigh, -preferring to rely, as she usually did, on her friend rather than try -to make herself understood in the native dialect. -</p> - -<p> -“I hate all the English,” said Wazira Begum proudly, when the question -was translated to her; “and he is a chief man among them.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what have the English done to you?” asked Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Have they not driven us here?” with a wave of her hand round the -courtyard. “Are not my brothers and the Sheikh-ul-Jabal deprived of -their just rights?” -</p> - -<p> -“And no marriage can be made for her,” put in Maadat Ali -sympathetically. “What go-between would come to Sheikhgarh to seek a -bride?” -</p> - -<p> -“You should persuade your father to settle in Alibad,” said Lady -Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“I am not a sweeper girl, to wed with the scum of towns!” cried Wazira -Begum. -</p> - -<p> -“Isn’t your sister inclined to be a little difficult to please?” asked -Lady Haigh of Maadat Ali. “You are Khojas, of course, but we have -plenty of Khojas, and even Syads,<a href="#fn01b" id="fn01a">[1]</a> living in the plains.” -</p> - -<p> -“If that were all!” cried the girl contemptuously. “But for a princess -of Nalapur, as I am——” -</p> - -<p> -“O my sister!” gasped Maadat Ali. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, I have said it, and these unbelievers shall be convinced.” She -sprang up and stood before the visitors, drawing herself to her full -height. “My father was the Amir Nasr Ali Khan, not the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and my brother Ashraf Ali should now be sitting in -his father’s place. But the English took the side of the murderer and -usurper, and we are banished to this desert.” -</p> - -<p> -“You three are Nasr Ali’s children!” cried Lady Haigh. Then, regret -succeeding astonishment, “Why in the world didn’t your father—the -Sheikh, I mean—let Major Keeling know this before? He would have had -you back at Nalapur long ago.” -</p> - -<p> -“These are words!” said Wazira Begum. “My uncle judges the English by -their deeds. His own wife and sons and our mother were among the dead -in the Killa at Nalapur, and he would not have us murdered also.” -</p> - -<p> -“But, dear me! he ought to know Major Keeling by this time,” said Lady -Haigh impatiently. “He had no share in the massacre, and has been most -anxious to right the injustice ever since it happened. But he thought -there was no heir of Nasr Ali left, so he could do nothing.” She -stopped, for a curious smile was playing about Wazira Begum’s mouth. -</p> - -<p> -“My uncle has found a way of doing something,” she said. “Even now he -has taken my brother Ashraf Ali, who was fourteen years old six weeks -ago, to show him to the faithful followers of our father’s house, that -they may raise an insurrection in his favour in Nalapur.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then your uncle has acted very unwisely—to say no more—in not -confiding in Major Keeling,” was the warm response. “I suppose he -means to reach the capital while the Amir Wilayat Ali is with his army -on the frontier? And so he has weakened his garrison, and withdrawn -his distant patrols, and allowed Gobind Chand’s army to get past him -and threaten Alibad. There must be spies all round you, for it’s clear -his movements have been watched—I suppose the men we saw in the -mountains were there to keep an eye on him—and he will never be -allowed to reach Nalapur. And if he was, it wouldn’t be much good to -proclaim your brother Amir if the enemy cut him off both from this -place and from Alibad.” -</p> - -<p> -“I cannot tell,” said Wazira Begum sullenly. “My uncle is a wise man, -and will do according to his wisdom. As to Kīlin Sahib and the -English, I will trust them when I see a reason for it,” and she -marched away with great dignity. -</p> - -<p> -Maadat Ali remained, obviously ill at ease on account of his sister’s -revelation, but relieved that his true dignity need no longer be -concealed; and from him Lady Haigh learned that the wife of the Amir -Nasr Ali, suspecting treachery on the part of her brother-in-law, had -intrusted her three children to the two nurses, Zulika and Hafiza, the -night before the storming of the city. In the disguise of peasants the -women had contrived to escape from the palace, and on the arrival of -the English had been suffered to depart. They made their way to the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, who had succeeded in crossing the frontier into -safety, and he had conceived the idea of bringing up the children as -his own, knowing that, much as he himself was hated by Wilayat Ali and -his Vizier, nothing could protect the heirs of Nasr Ali if they were -known to be living. -</p> - -<p> -The day passed slowly to Lady Haigh and Penelope. Maadat Ali was their -constant companion, but his never-ceasing flow of questions became -rather wearisome after a time. Wazira Begum seemed unable to make up -her mind how to treat the visitors. She would come and engage in -friendly conversation, then suddenly turn sullen or flare up at some -imagined slight, and depart in dudgeon. Lady Haigh decided that she -was ill at ease about her uncle and her elder brother, whose plans had -been so signally deranged by Gobind Chand’s move, and that she would -like to discuss future possibilities, but was too proud to do so. -Murtiza Khan came back from his reconnaissance, and announced that the -Nalapuri army had emerged from the hills in the early morning and -threatened Alibad, but had been driven back in confusion by a small -force with two field-pieces posted on the canal embankment. In spite -of their numbers, Gobind Chand’s men refused to remain in the plain, -and had retreated into the hills. They were now occupying the broken -country extending from the frontier to the track on the south by which -they had made their circuitous march, and were in force between -Sheikhgarh and Alibad; but the trooper thought it might be possible -for him to get through to the town, and relieve Sir Dugald’s mind, by -using by-paths only known to the men of the Mountains. Lady Haigh was -very much averse from the idea, but Murtiza Khan was so anxious to be -allowed to try that she consented to his making the attempt after -dark, guided by one of the brotherhood. -</p> - -<p> -The evening seemed very long in coming, not only to the eager trooper, -but to the two ladies, who could scarcely keep their eyes open after -the fatigues of the day before. They sat side by side on a charpoy in -the room in which Wazira Begum had first received them, with Maadat -Ali cross-legged on a carpet opposite, pouring forth a flood of -questions which still seemed inexhaustible. A brazier of glowing -charcoal supplied warmth and a dim religious light, and Wazira Begum -wandered restlessly in and out. The day had been hot, for the sun beat -down with great force on the unshaded walls and courtyards of -Sheikhgarh; but the evening was cold and even frosty. Suddenly through -the chill air came the sound of a horn, and Maadat Ali leaped up as if -he had been shot. -</p> - -<p> -“Some one comes!” he cried. “I will bring thee news, O my sister.” -</p> - -<p> -He rushed out and under the curtain, and was lost to sight. The -women-servants came crowding into the passage, and listened to the -confused sounds which reached them from the gateway. Presently Maadat -Ali came rushing back. -</p> - -<p> -“O my sister,” he gasped forth, “it is our uncle, sorely wounded. He -and his troop were attacked by the accursed one, the usurper.” -</p> - -<p> -“And our brother—Ashraf Ali?” shrieked Wazira Begum. -</p> - -<p> -“They said nothing of him, but they are bringing the Sheikh in a -litter, and those that have returned with him are relieving the men on -guard, that they may gather in the great hall and receive his -commands. I must go back.” -</p> - -<p> -“Won’t you send the servants to light the hall with torches?” asked -Lady Haigh of Wazira Begum, as the boy ran away; but she shook her -head. -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, no woman must be present when the Sheikh gives his commands to -the brotherhood. They will bring their own torches. We should not even -be here; but I cannot go back into the zenana without knowing what has -befallen my brother. It is forbidden, but I cannot.” -</p> - -<p> -The women were all gathered at the curtain now, peering through holes -which long experience had shown them where to find, and Lady Haigh -laid an encouraging hand on Wazira Begum’s shoulder. To her surprise, -it was not shaken off. The girl was trembling with anxiety, and her -breath came in sharp gasps. Outside the curtain Murtiza Khan stood -rigid, partially concealed by the recess in which it hung. With -admirable good-breeding, he feigned to be absolutely unconscious of -the crowd of women who were pressing and whispering so close to him. -</p> - -<p> -At last the sound of feet was heard, and the gleam of white and -scarlet was revealed by the light of a smoky torch at the doorway of -the hall. Eight men in the dress of the brotherhood carried in a rude -litter, and were followed by others, all bearing marks of fighting. -Behind them came the men who had been guarding the walls, and with -them Maadat Ali; but a sob broke from Wazira Begum as she realised -that her elder brother was not there. The litter, still covered with -the mantles of the men who had carried it, was placed in the middle of -the hall, and the members of the brotherhood proceeded to arrange -themselves in their proper ranks; but there was some confusion, as if -all did not know their places. Lady Haigh’s hand gripped Penelope’s, -and she directed her attention to the back of the hall. Behind the men -in scarlet and white crept a silent crowd of figures in ordinary -native dress, and these were dividing in the semi-darkness so as to -line both sides of the hall. Almost at the same moment two cries broke -the stillness. Wazira Begum sprang up from her crouching position, and -shrieked with all her strength, “Treachery! treachery! sons of the -Mountains!” and Maadat Ali, who had contrived to make his way -unobserved to the side of the litter and lift the covering, dropped it -in amazement, and cried shrilly, “It is not the Sheikh-ul-Jabal at -all!” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch23"> -CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">In</span> a moment all was confusion. Behind the curtain, Zulika and Hafiza -threw themselves upon Wazira Begum, and carried her off by main force, -regardless of her struggles, locking her into a small room where -jewels and best clothes were kept. They had seen the man in the litter -raise himself and deal Maadat Ali a blow that stretched him senseless -on the floor, and their sudden action had only just prevented the girl -from rushing unveiled into the turmoil of armed men. The hall was -ringing with battle-cries: “Jabal! Jabal!” from the brotherhood, -“Dīn! Dīn!” from the men who had carried the litter and those who -had dogged their steps. Swords were flashing; but such was the -confusion that the garrison of Sheikhgarh did not know who was friend -or who foe. The dark-clothed strangers, who had almost succeeded in -surrounding them, were obviously enemies; but mingled among themselves -were the litter-bearers in their own distinctive dress, headed by the -man who had been carried in the litter, and who had now sprung to his -feet and unsheathed a sword. Beset and outnumbered, the men of the -Mountains turned furiously upon the nearest foe each could -distinguish, and a wild turmoil raged, which swayed for a moment -towards the entrance of the hall, leaving clear the remains of the -litter and the form of Maadat Ali lying beside it. Lady Haigh put a -hand round the curtain and gripped the arm of Murtiza Khan, who still -stood motionless in his niche. These bewildering changes were nothing -to him; his duty began and ended with the defence of his Memsahibs. -</p> - -<p> -“Fetch in the boy, Murtiza Khan!” said Lady Haigh sharply. The trooper -hesitated for a moment, then assured himself that the archway was not -threatened, and dashed across the hall, returning with the motionless -body of the boy. -</p> - -<p> -“Bring him inside—quick!” said Lady Haigh authoritatively, moving the -curtain aside; and with horrible reluctance Murtiza Khan obeyed, to -the accompaniment of a chorus of shrieks from the old women within, -who improvised hastily makeshifts for veils. He looked anxiously round -for a bed on which to lay the boy, preparatory to an immediate -retreat. -</p> - -<p> -“Hold him! You are not to go outside again,” cried Lady Haigh, -stamping her foot. “Unlock that door!” she commanded the two old -women, pointing to the room where Wazira Begum could be heard beating -the woodwork with her fists and demanding furiously to be let out. -Hafiza seemed inclined to remonstrate, but Zulika obeyed promptly, and -the girl dashed out, with dishevelled hair and bleeding knuckles, -bestowing a furious blow on the old nurse as she passed, and nearly -knocking her down. Catching sight of her brother, she tore him from -the trooper’s arms and pressed him to her breast, crouching in a -corner and moaning over him. Lady Haigh laid a firm hand on her -shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“Listen to me, Wazira Begum. Is there any door or gate at the back by -which you can let a messenger out?” -</p> - -<p> -“Take thy hand away!” shrieked the girl. “How dost thou dare touch me? -It is thou who hast brought all this evil upon us. O my brother, my -little brother, do I behold thee dead in my arms?” -</p> - -<p> -“Answer me,” said Lady Haigh, giving her a slight shake. “You can do -your brother no good by crying over him.” -</p> - -<p> -“There is a secret door, but the Sheikh alone can enter or depart by -it,” was the unwilling reply. “Now leave me to bewail my dead.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then we must let Murtiza Khan down over the wall. Wazira Begum, you -must come and show us the best place, and give orders to your women. -Your brother is not dead. I saw him move just now.” -</p> - -<p> -“I will not leave him, O accursed Farangi! Why should I desire to save -the life of thy servant, who has profaned the very zenana?” -</p> - -<p> -“To save your own life and your brother’s, to say nothing of ours. -Murtiza Khan must bear the news of this treachery to Alibad, and bring -help, if it can be managed. Come! leave the boy with Hafiza.” -</p> - -<p> -Sullenly and reluctantly Wazira Begum obeyed, and wrapping herself in -the veil which Zulika brought her, led the way through the passage. -Lady Haigh paused to speak to the old woman— -</p> - -<p> -“Stay at the curtain, and parley with any who may desire to enter. -Keep them back at any cost until we return.” -</p> - -<p> -Hurrying after the rest she caught up Murtiza Khan, who was following -the women in intense misery, with his eyes on the ground. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you understand, Murtiza Khan? You are to get through to Alibad at -any cost, and tell Keeling Sahib that the enemy have surprised -Sheikhgarh.” -</p> - -<p> -“How is this?” asked Murtiza Khan. “Does not the Presence know that I -was charged to protect her and the Miss Sahib, and how dare I leave -them defenceless to the enemy?” -</p> - -<p> -“What could one man do? You could only fight till you were killed.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, I could slay both the Presences before the enemy broke in.” -</p> - -<p> -“Thanks, we can do that for ourselves if necessary. There are knives -here, at any rate, whatever there may not be. But if the Sahibs are -not warned, they will come to Sheikhgarh thinking it is in friendly -hands, and will be ambushed in the mountains. That must be prevented.” -</p> - -<p> -“It is the will of the Presence,” said Murtiza Khan, with a -resignation as sulky in its way as Wazira Begum’s. The girl had led -the way up to the roofs of the buildings surrounding the zenana -courtyard, which formed a terrace from which the defence of the place -could be carried on. She sprang up on the parapet, and looked over the -wall. -</p> - -<p> -“Here is the place,” she said. “My brother Ashraf Ali once dropped a -jewel from his turban over the wall, and we let him down to recover -it. Bring ropes, O women.” -</p> - -<p> -The servants ran wildly in all directions, and produced a -heterogeneous collection of cords, which were knotted together and -pieced out with strips torn from sheets. The trooper tested them -carefully, and expressed himself as satisfied, only entreating that -Lady Haigh would herself hold the cord and give the orders. Then he -let himself down over the parapet, hung for a moment to the edge by -his fingers, and loosed his hold. Lady Haigh restrained the eagerness -of the women who held the rope, insisting that they should pay it out -slowly and steadily; and after what seemed an age, the trooper’s voice -was heard, telling them to slacken it a little, that he might unfasten -it. Then the rope came up again free, and not daring to wait on the -wall, Lady Haigh and Wazira Begum left the servants to untie and hide -the separate parts, and fled back into the house. Wazira Begum was -madly anxious about her brother, and Lady Haigh now remembered that -Penelope had not accompanied them to the wall. They both caught sight -of her at the same moment, and Wazira Begum sprang forward with a cry -of rage, for Penelope was kneeling by the charpoy on which Maadat Ali -lay, and binding up his head. The fierce jealousy which made the -native girl rush to drive her away did not even occur to her, and she -looked up at her with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -“He is only stunned, and he is beginning to come round. Take my place, -so that he may see you when he opens his eyes, but don’t startle him. -I’m sure he ought to be kept very quiet.” -</p> - -<p> -Her anger disarmed by Penelope’s unsuspiciousness, Wazira Begum obeyed -meekly, and kneeling down by the charpoy, murmured endearing epithets -as she pressed her lips passionately to her brother’s hands. But Lady -Haigh had moved to the curtain, beyond which Zulika had just been -summoned by an imperious voice which demanded that some one from the -zenana should come forth and speak. The contest in the hall had ended -in the triumph of the invaders. The bodies of the dead and dying which -cumbered the floor showed that the men of the Mountains had fought -hard for their stronghold; but they were much outnumbered, and utterly -taken by surprise. Their assailants were evidently kept well in hand -by their leader, the man who had been carried in the litter, for -instead of dispersing through the fortress in search of loot, they -were methodically removing the dead and caring for their own wounded. -The wounded among the defenders were promptly despatched. It was the -leader who now stood before the curtain, and before whom Zulika -grovelled abjectly, her forehead on the ground. -</p> - -<p> -“Who is within?” asked the leader. -</p> - -<p> -“My lord’s servants the daughter and the young son of my master, the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and the women of the household.” -</p> - -<p> -“No one else? What of the two Farangi ladies who took shelter here -last night, and their servant?” -</p> - -<p> -“Truly the wisdom of my lord is as that of Solomon the son of David! -The Farangi ladies are indeed within, the guests of my master’s -house.” -</p> - -<p> -“And their servant—is he also within?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, my lord! A man behind the curtain! Truly the fellow was in this -hall before the entrance of my lord, but seeing that there was -fighting on foot, doubtless he stole away to hide himself, or it may -be he is even among the slain,” lied Zulika glibly. -</p> - -<p> -“I will have search made and a watch kept, and if I find thou hast -deceived me——” he laid his sheathed sword lightly across Zulika’s -neck, so that she cowered nearer to the floor. “Thou and the children -of the impostor may remain here for the present, until the will of his -Highness be known; only see to it that ye make no attempt to escape or -to send warning to those who are away. But the Farangi women bid to be -ready to start on a journey an hour before dawn, for they must go -elsewhere.” -</p> - -<p> -“My lord would not slay the women?” ventured the trembling Zulika, -with unexpected courage. -</p> - -<p> -“What is that to thee? Enough that they must be kept in safety until -it may be seen of what use they are.” -</p> - -<p> -“My lord’s handmaid will carry his commands,” responded Zulika, and -returned with her alarming message behind the curtain, where the other -servants filled the air with wailing on hearing it. Lady Haigh bade -them peremptorily to be still, and turned to Wazira Begum, who was -still kneeling beside her brother, assiduously keeping the cloths on -his forehead wet, in the way Penelope had shown her. -</p> - -<p> -“Let us talk this over as friends,” she said, “for we are in much the -same position. We are to be kept as hostages in order to extract -concessions from Major Keeling, and you and your brother, Wazira -Begum, as a means of bringing pressure upon the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. At -least that shows that he has not been killed or defeated, but I -suppose he might return here and be lured into an ambush at any -moment. Now think; Murtiza Khan cannot possibly reach Alibad before -daylight to-morrow, even if he is not seen and wounded or captured. -Major Keeling would never attack a place like this by daylight, so -that even if he sent a force to our help at once, we could not be -relieved until to-morrow night. Is there any chance of barricading -ourselves in the zenana, and holding out for all those hours?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay,” said Wazira Begum wearily; “we might block up the door with -charpoys, and ye might refuse to go out; but they would only need to -set fire to the barricade, and then they would break in and slay us -all. Do as thou wilt. Who am I to give commands, when thou art -present? It shall be done as thou sayest, and my brother and I, and -these women, can but die in the hope of saving thee and thy sister.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense!” said Lady Haigh. “If there’s no chance of defending -ourselves successfully, of course we won’t attempt it. You know that -perfectly well, Wazira Begum, or you wouldn’t have put your lives into -my hands in that despairingly confiding way.” -</p> - -<p> -The girl looked slightly ashamed. “Thou art better to me than I -deserve, better than I thought thee,” she said. “Were it not for my -brother, I would refuse to give you up; but how can I bring death upon -him? I will send my handmaid Hafiza with you, to wait upon you and to -be your interpreter with the men sent to guard you, for ye are great -ladies, and must not speak with them face to face. Also ye shall have -bedding, and such other things as this place can supply and ye may -desire. And forgive me that I can do no more, for truly woe is come -upon this house, and the shadow of death.” -</p> - -<p> -She broke into loud wailing again, in which the other women followed -her, and Lady Haigh grew angry. -</p> - -<p> -“Penelope, lie down here and try and get some rest. Wazira Begum, as -you are good enough to lend us bedding, please let Hafiza get it out -and have it ready to strap on the horses. And tell me, had we better -wear veils like yours instead of our hats?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, ye would be known everywhere as Farangis by your tight garments, -and your manner of sitting on one side of your horses,” said Wazira -Begum. “But this is what ye must do.” She unfastened the gauze veil -from Lady Haigh’s hat and doubled it. “Now no man can see clearly what -manner of woman is beneath.” -</p> - -<p> -This settled, Lady Haigh sat down on the floor, and leaning against -the wall, prepared to get a few hours’ uncomfortable and more or less -broken sleep, while Hafiza was assisted in her preparations by the -other women, who were all much relieved that they had not been chosen -to attend the visitors, and were anxious to administer the kind of -comfort which is easier to give than to receive. The disturbed night -seemed extraordinarily long, but at last the summons came from behind -the curtain. Wazira Begum bade farewell to her guests with something -of compunction, and pressed upon them a string of pearls, which might -serve as currency in case of need. The old women carried out the -bundles of bedding, which were tied on a horse in such a way that -Hafiza could perch herself on the summit of the load. Then Lady Haigh -and Penelope, disguised in their double veils, walked down the hall, -and found, to their delight, their own ponies awaiting them. Lady -Haigh looked over the harness critically before mounting from the -steps, and ordered one or two straps to be tightened—orders which -were obeyed, apparently with some amusement, by the men who stood by. -The leader of the enemy, who stood on the steps watching the start, -gave his final instructions to a man named Nizam-ul-Mulk, who was, it -seemed, to escort the ladies with ten men under him, and the gate was -opened. Lady Haigh, who was looking about for any chance of escape, -saw that every precaution was to be taken for the safe-keeping of the -prisoners. On the narrow mountain paths, where it was necessary to -ride in single file, there was always one of the guards between -herself and Penelope, and when the valley widened, the whole of the -escort closed up at once. Several small encampments were passed, from -which startled Nalapuris looked out as they heard the horses’ feet to -ask if Sinjāj Kīlin was coming; and it was clear that though the -enemy might be said to be occupying the hills, there would be no great -difficulty in dislodging them. Cowardly though they might be, however, -they had the upper hand at present, and Lady Haigh and Penelope felt -this bitterly when their party debouched from the hills about dawn, -and struck off across the desert towards the north-east, leaving the -great mass of the Alibad fort, touched with the sunrise, well to the -south. -</p> - -<p> -“If they only knew!” sighed Lady Haigh. “Just across there, and we -here! How they would ride if they knew!” -</p> - -<p> -“What is going to happen to us?” asked Penelope. They were riding side -by side now, in the midst of their guards. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, the worst that could happen would be that we might be carried -right up into Central Asia, which all but happened to the captives in -the Ethiopian disaster,” said Lady Haigh, ignoring decisively -possibilities even darker, “and I suppose the best that could happen -would be that Major Keeling should make terms for us almost at once.” -</p> - -<p> -“But if he had to make concessions, as you said? Ought we to want him -to do it?” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course we oughtn’t to, and I don’t—but yet I do. Perhaps he -won’t. You see I know already how high-minded my husband can be where -I am concerned, but I don’t know what Major Keeling would be willing -to do for you.” -</p> - -<p> -“I know. He would refuse, even if it tore his heart out.” -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh looked at her curiously. “You seem to know him pretty -well,” she said. “Well, it’s something to feel that our poor little -fates won’t be permitted to weigh against the safety of the frontier. -But what nonsense we are talking!” as Penelope shuddered. “My dear, -don’t we know that those two men would invade Central Asia on their -own account if we were taken there, and bring us back in triumph? -Don’t let us pretend they’re Romans. They’re good Englishmen, and -would no more leave us to perish than turn Mohammedan!” -</p> - -<p> -This robust faith, if a little unfortunate in the mode of its -expression, was very cheering, and Penelope withdrew her eyes from the -fast diminishing fort, and set her face sternly forward. But if there -was no sign of a force riding out from Alibad to the rescue, there was -a cloud of dust in front which showed that some one was approaching, -and the escort were visibly nervous. Seizing the bridles of the -ladies’ ponies they urged them aside behind a sandhill, and there -waited, gathered in a close group. It was a large company that was -coming, and the dust it made was sufficient to have prevented its -noticing the smaller party, so that it passed the sandhill without -turning aside. A sudden lull in the wind revealed the white mantles -and scarlet turbans of the men who composed it when they had gone some -distance. -</p> - -<p> -“The Sheikh and his followers!” gasped Penelope. “They will go back to -Sheikhgarh and be captured.” -</p> - -<p> -“Not if Murtiza Khan got through,” said Lady Haigh, trying to hide the -anxiety in her tone, “for Major Keeling would be certain to send some -one to intercept the Sheikh before he could reach the hills. No,” she -added acidly, in response to the gesture of Nizam-ul-Mulk, who had -tapped a pistol in his girdle significantly as he saw her gazing after -the riders, “we are not quite idiots, thank you. It wouldn’t be much -good to signal to the Sheikh, who doesn’t know anything about us, and -would never think of going out of his way on the chance of helping -some one in distress.” -</p> - -<p> -“But he might have told them at Alibad, and they would have known -where we were,” suggested Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“And have come out to find us shot, which wouldn’t be much good,” said -Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -They rode on again after this brief halt, taking the direction of Fort -Shah Nawaz, but leaving it out of sight on the right hand. The dark -rocks which marked the mouth of the Akrab Pass were visible in the -distance on the left, and Lady Haigh expected that Nizam-ul-Mulk would -lead the way thither. But to her surprise, they still rode straight -on, leaving the pass on one side. -</p> - -<p> -“Where are you taking us?” she could not refrain from asking him at -last. -</p> - -<p> -“To Kubbet-ul-Haj. There is safe-keeping in Ethiopia for any Farangi -prisoner,” answered the man with an insolent laugh, and Lady Haigh -grew white under her veil. -</p> - -<p> -“Ethiopia! That means Central Asia, then!” she said. “Never mind, Pen. -They’ll catch us up before we get there. We can’t possibly get farther -than the Ethiopian frontier to-night, if as far.” -</p> - -<p> -Although she spoke rather to encourage Penelope than because she -believed what she said, Lady Haigh proved to be right. The discipline -of the guards seemed to disappear as they were farther removed from -their leader at Sheikhgarh; and at noon, thinking that all danger was -past, they insisted on a rest of two or three hours, despite the -remonstrances of Nizam-ul-Mulk. Hence, when evening came on, the -Ethiopian frontier was still an hour’s ride away, and they positively -refused to attempt to reach it that night, demanding that a camp -should be formed on a low hill covered with brushwood—an excellent -position both for concealment and for discerning the approach of an -enemy. Nizam-ul-Mulk was forced to yield. The horses were picketed in -a hollow on the Ethiopian side of the hill, a rude tent was pitched -for the ladies, and a due portion of the rough food of the escort sent -them through Hafiza. When the comfortless meal was over, they were -thankful to lie down, without undressing, on the <i>resais</i> with which -Wazira Begum had supplied them; and Hafiza, at any rate, was soon -audibly, as well as visibly, asleep. But presently Penelope sat up and -said softly, “Elma, are you awake?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ye-es,” responded Lady Haigh sleepily. “What’s the matter?” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, do let us talk a little. I can’t sleep. Elma, if they should -separate us—if they are only pretending to go to sleep——” -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense! after such a day of riding they are as tired as I am, and -that’s saying a good deal. Don’t conjure up horrors.” -</p> - -<p> -“But if they took us to different places! Oh, Elma, if I was alone -among these people I should die!” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, you wouldn’t. You’d get on much better than you think.” -</p> - -<p> -“I couldn’t do anything. You can say what you like to these people and -they obey you. No one would obey me.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, you conquered Wazira Begum, at any rate. I only made her hate -me, though she did what I told her.” -</p> - -<p> -“But as long as you’re there, I feel safe—as if you were a man.” -</p> - -<p> -“What a testimony! But, Pen, you’re horribly old-fashioned. You -shouldn’t be such a honeysuckle kind of girl—always leaning on some -one and clinging to them—and yet you are so obstinate in some ways. I -suppose it’s no good telling you to stand up for yourself, though. You -seem born to cling. Colin was your prop for a long time, and you let -him drag you out to India to marry Ferrers, whom you didn’t want, and -he very nearly succeeded. I suppose I’m the support just at present, -until Major Keeling comes to the front. He will be a good stout prop, -at any rate. I couldn’t stand his domineering ways, but I suppose you -like them.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh yes,” said Penelope thankfully. “You don’t know him. Elma——” -</p> - -<p> -“I know you,” interjected her friend. -</p> - -<p> -“Elma, doesn’t it seem extraordinary that it is only a few weeks since -I really wanted to die? It felt as if it was the only way of settling -things—as if I ought not to marry him, and yet couldn’t bear not -to—and now the only thing I care for is to see him again. I should be -perfectly happy——” -</p> - -<p> -“It isn’t extraordinary at all—merely that you’ve come to your -senses. My dear, I was in love with Dugald once, you know——” -</p> - -<p> -“But if we should never see them again, either of them! Oh, Elma, if -they should never find us! What do you think——?” -</p> - -<p> -“I think you’ll have a touch of fever if you don’t try to go to sleep. -Listen to Hafiza. She is going among strangers, just like you and me, -but she doesn’t sit up and talk. Say your prayers, and lie down.” -</p> - -<p> -“She can sleep because she has so little to lose, whatever happens. So -long as she was kindly treated, I suppose she could make herself happy -anywhere.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I have about as much to lose as you have,” with a terrific -yawn, “and I should very much like to go to sleep.” -</p> - -<p> -“I oughtn’t to be so selfish. But listen, Elma. We’ll take turns to -sleep, and then they can’t separate us. I will watch first.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, very well. Wake me when you feel drowsy,” and Lady Haigh turned -over on her hard couch, and composed herself to sleep. When Penelope -roused her, however, it was not to take her turn at watching. She was -kneeling beside her, with her lips very close to her ear. -</p> - -<p> -“Elma, wake up! Don’t say anything, but listen. Don’t you hear noises? -I’m sure something is going to happen.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch24"> -CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">RAHMAT-ULLAH.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Lady Haigh</span> sat up, and listened attentively. “It may be only the -sentries moving about,” she whispered at last. -</p> - -<p> -“No, there are none. I peeped out to see. They are sleeping all round -the tent, so that we could not pass, but they have no one on the -watch. There it is again! Listen!” -</p> - -<p> -But this time there was no difficulty in distinguishing the sounds, -for a tremendous voice, so close at hand that Lady Haigh stopped her -ears involuntarily, shouted, “At them, boys! Cold steel! Don’t let one -of them escape!” and immediately the wildest tumult arose outside the -tent. It aroused even Hafiza, who sat up and with great presence of -mind opened her mouth to scream, but was forestalled by Lady Haigh, -who flew at her like a wild cat, and gagged her with a corner of the -<i>resai</i>. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you want us all to be killed?” she demanded fiercely. “Our only -chance is that they may not remember us.” -</p> - -<p> -“Elma, are you there?” said a voice outside the tent at the back, and -Lady Haigh released Hafiza and turned in the direction of the sound. -</p> - -<p> -“Is it you, Dugald?” she cried joyfully, trying to tear up the edge of -the tent-cloth from the ground, but it was well pegged down. -</p> - -<p> -“Stand aside!” said the voice, and there was a rending sound as a -sword cut a long slit in the cloth, revealing Sir Dugald dimly against -the starry sky. “Out with you!” he said, “and stoop till I tell you to -stand up.” -</p> - -<p> -Determined to obey to the very letter, Lady Haigh and Penelope crawled -out through the slit on their hands and knees, followed by Hafiza, who -was so anxious not to be left behind that she kept a firm hold on -Penelope’s riding-habit. Sir Dugald led the way through the brushwood, -away from the clash of swords and the wild confusion of shouts and -yells in front of the tent, and when they had passed the brow of the -hill, he gave them leave to stand up. -</p> - -<p> -“We are to make for the horses,” he said. “I only hope they won’t have -run away, or we shall find ourselves in a hole. But Miani has the -sense of a dozen, and wouldn’t go without his master.” -</p> - -<p> -They ran and stumbled down the hill, Sir Dugald assisting any one of -the three who happened to be nearest, and a little way back on the -road they had come, found Miani and four other horses waiting in a -hollow, secured to a lance driven into the ground. -</p> - -<p> -“But where are the rest?” cried Lady Haigh. “The men can’t have walked -from Alibad here.” -</p> - -<p> -“There’s a horse for each man,” was the grim reply. “Keeling and I, -his two orderlies, and Murtiza Khan—there’s our rescue party.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s perfect madness!” she cried piteously, collapsing on a heap of -stones. “There was no need to risk your lives in this way.” -</p> - -<p> -“All that could be spared. This is a little jaunt undertaken when we -are supposed to be asleep. No one knows about it.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s just the sort of mad thing Major Keeling would do, but you—oh, -Dugald! if anything happens to you I shall never forgive myself,” and -Lady Haigh sat on her stone-heap and wept ignominiously. -</p> - -<p> -“Good heavens, Elma! you’ll call together all the enemies in the -neighbourhood if you make that noise. I’m all right at present. Why -don’t you weep over the Chief? He’s in danger, if you like.” -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, and why aren’t you with him?” she demanded, with what might have -appeared a certain measure of inconsistency. -</p> - -<p> -“Orders,” he replied tersely. “I have to see you home. Hope we shall -be able to collar your ponies. Where did you manage to pick up an -ayah? Not one of your captors’ people, is she?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, she must go back with us. She belongs to Sheikhgarh. Oh, -Dugald——” -</p> - -<p> -“Hush! I believe I hear the Chief coming. Here, Major! we’ve got them -all right.” -</p> - -<p> -“Good!” returned Major Keeling, hurling himself into the group after a -run down the hillside. “How are you, Lady Haigh? Pretty fit, Miss -Ross? Got a good ride before us still. We must have an outpost here -some day—splendid place for stopping the smuggling of arms into -Ethiopia.” -</p> - -<p> -“And call it after you,” suggested Lady Haigh, now quite herself -again. “What shall we say—Kīlinabad? or Kīlingarh? or Kīlinkôt?” -</p> - -<p> -“Has this hill any name, Kasim?” asked Major Keeling, turning abruptly -to one of the orderlies who had come up. -</p> - -<p> -“It is called Rahmat-Ullah, sahib, from one who was saved from death -by a pool of water that he found here.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then there is its name still. Rahmat-Ullah, the Compassion of -God—what could be more appropriate? But now to think of present -needs. Surviving enemy has escaped with the horses, unfortunately. We -didn’t venture to fire after him for fear of rousing the -neighbourhood, so we must ride double.” As he spoke, he was -unstrapping and rearranging the greatcoat which was rolled in front of -Miani’s saddle. “Haigh, take your wife.” He unfastened the black’s -bridle from the lance, and was in the saddle in a moment. “Miss Ross, -give me your hands. Put your foot on mine. Now, jump!” and as Penelope -obeyed, she found herself seated before him on the horse, the -greatcoat serving as a cushion. “Don’t be afraid of falling. I shall -hold you,” he said. “Besides, Miani is too much of a gentleman to try -any tricks with a lady on his back. You all right, Lady Haigh? Ismail -Bakhsh, you are the lightest weight; pick up the old woman, and fall -in behind. Murtiza Khan may lead; he has deserved well for this three -days’ work. Kasim-ud-Daulat, bring up the rear, and keep your ears -open for any sounds of pursuit. Now, forward!” -</p> - -<p> -They were in motion at once, Miani making no objection to his double -burden. Penelope smiled to herself, realising the strangeness of her -position, and also Major Keeling’s anxiety that she should not realise -it. His left arm was round her, the sword which must have dripped with -blood only a few minutes ago hung almost within reach of her hand; but -he was careful not to say a word that could make her feel that there -was anything odd in the situation. -</p> - -<p> -“He is determined to behave as if he was a stranger,” she said to -herself. “No, not quite. A stranger would have asked me if I was quite -comfortable before starting. But why doesn’t he let me ride behind -him, so as to leave his arms free? I know! it is from behind that he -expects to be attacked. Oh, I hope, I hope, if there is an attack, it -will be in front. Then the bullets must reach me first, and he might -escape.” -</p> - -<p> -As if in answer to her thought, Major Keeling’s deep voice remarked -casually at this moment, “If we are attacked in front, Miss Ross, I -shall drop you on the ground. It sounds rude, but you will be safer -there than in the way of bullets. Keep out of the way of the horses as -best you can, and we will pick you up again when we have driven the -rascals off.” -</p> - -<p> -“Ye-es,” said Penelope faintly, with the feeling very strong upon her -that there were some seasons at which women had no business to exist. -Again, as if to comfort her, Major Keeling laughed happily. -</p> - -<p> -“Never felt so jolly in my life!” he cried. “This is the sort of -adventure that’s worth five years of office and drill.” -</p> - -<p> -The assurance was so cheering, though entirely impersonal, that -Penelope accepted the comfort perforce. They rode on steadily, and the -regular beat of the horses’ hoofs was pleasant in its monotony. A -continuous low murmur from Lady Haigh, punctuated by an occasional -word or two from Sir Dugald, showed that she, at any rate, had no -doubt of her right to exist and to demand a welcome. Penelope’s -thoughts became somewhat confused. Scenes and images from the exciting -panorama of the last three days danced before her eyes. She knew that -they were unreal, but could not remember where she actually was. -Suddenly they ceased, and she knew nothing more until a deep voice -broke upon her slumbers— -</p> - -<p> -“You would make a good cavalryman, Miss Ross. You can sleep in the -saddle!” -</p> - -<p> -Bewildered, she gazed round her. The silvery light of the false dawn -was spreading itself over the sky, and the familiar front of the -Haighs’ house at Alibad looked weird and cold. They were actually -inside the compound, riding up to the door, and startled servants were -running out from their quarters to receive them. Lady Haigh dismounted -with much agility, and came running to assist Penelope, who was still -too much confused to allow herself to drop to the ground, but Major -Keeling and Sir Dugald both remained in the saddle. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t expect me till you see me,” said Sir Dugald to his wife. “I’ll -send you a message when I can.” -</p> - -<p> -“And he shall have an hour’s leave when it can be managed,” said Major -Keeling, turning his horse’s head. Then he looked back at the two -ladies standing forlorn on the steps. “Now my advice to you is, go to -bed and get a thorough rest. You needn’t be afraid. Tarleton and the -Fencibles have the town in charge, though we are out on the plains.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Elma, and we never thanked them!” cried Penelope, horror-struck, -as the two officers and their escort disappeared. -</p> - -<p> -“<i>Thanked</i> them! My dear Penelope, what good would thanks be? If we -thanked those two men on our bended knees for ever, it wouldn’t come -anywhere near proper gratitude for what they have done for us -to-night. But come indoors, and let us hunt up some bedding. It’s all -very well to advise us to go to bed; but every single thing we took -into camp is burnt, so we must do the best we can.” -</p> - -<p> -“But the servants?” cried Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, they stood in the water and escaped, and made the best of their -way back to Alibad when the fire was over, but they didn’t save -anything. Now I must give Hafiza into the charge of the <i>malli’s</i> -wife, and then we will go indoors.” -</p> - -<p> -The gardener’s wife was a Nalapuri woman, and quite willing to give -shelter to her compatriot, who had been eyeing the European house with -much disfavour; and Lady Haigh called up the two ayahs, and set them -to work at making up some sort of beds, while she and Penelope had -some tea. The moment they were alone she turned to Penelope and said, -“Well?” -</p> - -<p> -“I don’t know what you mean,” said Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, nonsense! Did he say anything?” -</p> - -<p> -“He said he should drop me on the sand if we were attacked in front.” -</p> - -<p> -“Of course, Dugald said that to me. But what else?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing, really. I—I went to sleep, Elma.” -</p> - -<p> -“Penelope, you are perfectly hopeless! I should dearly like to beat -you. You haven’t one scrap of romance in your whole composition. You -went to sleep!” -</p> - -<p> -“I was so dreadfully tired—and I felt so safe, so wonderfully safe.” -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose you expect him to take that as a compliment. But I am -disgusted. Oh, Pen, I didn’t think it of you!” -</p> - -<p> -“I couldn’t help it,” pleaded Penelope, “and he didn’t mean to say -anything then, I’m sure.” But Lady Haigh refused to be mollified. -</p> - -<p> -“You gave him no chance. And, as you say, you never even thanked him. -My dear, it was touch and go, as Dugald says. By the greatest mercy, -one of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s men caught sight of our party just before -the guards made us hide behind that sandhill. They thought it was an -ambush, and were all prepared, so that it was rather a surprise when -they were allowed to pass. When they were crossing the plain towards -Sheikhgarh, they were met by a patrol which Major Keeling had sent out -to try and intercept the Sheikh as soon as ever he had heard Murtiza -Khan’s news——” -</p> - -<p> -“But that must have been in broad daylight.” -</p> - -<p> -“So it was. The Sheikh’s vow expired, it seems, as soon as his nephew -Ashraf Ali was fourteen. He couldn’t afford to be handicapped when it -was a question of putting the boy on the throne, you see. Well, Major -Keeling had guessed that the enemy would probably send us away -somewhere, lest Sheikhgarh should be retaken; but the only thing he -could do when he heard what the Sheikh had seen was to send out the -<i>shikari</i> Baha-ud-Din, who most happily went back to Alibad with -Dugald, you know, to examine the trail, and he found the marks of our -ponies’ shoes, quite distinct among the native ones. And as soon as it -was dark, he and Dugald and the orderlies started after us. But it was -a near thing.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very,” agreed Penelope, with a shudder. “If they had taken us just -that one hour’s journey farther, Elma—into Ethiopia!” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, if you ask me, I am not sure that it would have made very much -difference. A frontier has no peculiar sacredness for Major Keeling, -unless it’s his own. But of course there might have been an Ethiopian -fort, and five men could scarcely have attacked that. Yes, Pen, we -ought to be very thankful. And now here is Dulya to say that our rooms -are ready. I needn’t tell you to sleep well. You seem to have quite a -talent for it!” -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -After behaving with sufficient heroism during their three days’ trial, -Lady Haigh and Penelope collapsed most unheroically after it. Two -whole days in bed was the smallest allowance they could accept, and -they slept away, peacefully enough, hours in which the fate of the -province might have been hanging in jeopardy, with a culpable -indifference to the interests of civilisation and their race. The -military situation was curious enough, and to the eyes of any one not -trained in the topsy-turvy school of the Khemistan frontier, eminently -disquieting. Gobind Chand’s army still remained in occupation of the -whole hill-district on the west, a potential menace, if not an active -one. The Sheikh-ul-Jabal and his troop of horsemen had left Alibad by -night, intending to make an attempt to regain possession of Sheikhgarh -by means of the secret door to which Wazira Begum had alluded; but as -this necessitated a very wide flanking movement, in order to approach -the place from behind, it was not surprising that nothing had been -heard as yet as to their success. Just across the frontier was Wilayat -Ali’s army, which had let slip its opportunity of combining with -Gobind Chand by attacking Alibad from the desert while he moved out -from the mountains, but still remained willing to wound, if afraid to -strike. Between the two was Major Keeling, with the whole of his small -force mobilised, so to speak, and holding the positions he had devised -to cover the town, while the town itself was inadequately garrisoned -by Dr Tarleton and his volunteers. The dangers of the position were -perceptible to the least skilled eye. In the possession of artillery -alone lay Major Keeling’s advantage; for the fact that the rest of his -force consisted wholly of cavalry, though advantageous in ordinary -cases of frontier warfare, was a drawback when the operations were of -necessity altogether defensive. It was not until four days after their -return to Alibad that the ladies obtained a coherent idea of Major -Keeling’s plan of action, and this was due to a visit from Sir Dugald, -who had come in with orders for Dr Tarleton. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose you’re able to take an intelligent interest in all that -goes on, with the help of that telescope of yours?” he asked lazily, -while Lady Haigh and Penelope plied him assiduously with tea and cake -in the few minutes he had to spare. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, we see the guns plodding about from place to place, and firing -one or two shots and then stopping, but we can’t make out what you are -doing,” said his wife. -</p> - -<p> -“We are shepherding Gobind Chand’s men back into the hills whenever -they try to break out. In a day or two more we ought to have them -fairly cornered, unless some utterly unexpected gleam of common-sense -on Wilayat Ali’s part throws us out; but just at present we can do -nothing but ‘wait for something to turn up.’” -</p> - -<p> -“But how will things be better in a day or two?” asked Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“Because the enemy’s supplies must be exhausted by then. These border -armies never carry much food with them, expecting to live on the -country. We are preventing that. There is no food to be got in the -hills, and when they burned the forest they destroyed any chances in -that direction. We have sent Harris with one of the guns to make a -flank march to the south and take up a strong position with Vidal and -his police across the road by which the enemy came, and the Sheikh -will take good care that no stragglers get past him. So far as we can -see, they must either fight or surrender.” -</p> - -<p> -“But isn’t it rather cruel—starving them out in this way?” -</p> - -<p> -“Cruel! If you talk of cruelty, wasn’t it cruel of them to fire the -best <i>shikargah</i> in Khemistan? Isn’t it cruel of them now to be -keeping us grilling out on the plains, without time even for a change -of clothes? Why, until I managed to get a bath just now, I hadn’t -taken off my things since the night we rode out to find you!” -</p> - -<p> -“You looked it, when you rode in two hours ago,” said Lady Haigh, with -such fervent sympathy that her husband requested her indignantly not -to be personal. -</p> - -<p> -“And if we’re not to starve them out, what are we to do?” he demanded, -still smarting under the accusation of cruelty. “Of course, when an -enemy takes up his quarters in broken country inside your borders, any -fool will tell you you ought to clear him out; but what are you to do -with one weak regiment against an army? Perhaps they will let the -Chief raise another regiment after this—if we come through it—and -give him the two more European officers he’s been asking for so long. -Wilayat Ali might have swept us from the face of the earth if he had a -grain of generalship about him, and Gobind Chand’s army might have -rushed the guns a dozen times over if he could have got them to stand -fire.” -</p> - -<p> -“But what is it that paralyses them?” asked Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Mutual antipathy, so far as we can make out. It seems that Wilayat -Ali carefully picked out the most disloyal Sardars to serve under -Gobind Chand, evidently in the hope that either we or they would -remove him from his path, and that the Sardars would also get their -ranks thinned. He hasn’t forgotten Gobind Chand’s attempt to get the -Chief’s help in deposing him, after all. But Gobind Chand is not eager -to take the chances of war, and the Sardars don’t quite see hurling -themselves against our guns that Wilayat Ali may have a walk-over; -and, moreover, they see through his scheme now. It’s really as good as -a play, the way the two chief villains are trying to betray one -another to us.” -</p> - -<p> -“But have they actually tried to open negotiations?” -</p> - -<p> -“Not formally, of course; but venerable Mullahs and frowsy <i>fakirs</i> -toddle casually into our lines, or try to, and unfold their respective -employers’ latest ideas. Wilayat Ali offers us the contents of his -treasury if we will allow him to join us and help to wipe out Gobind -Chand and the disaffected Sardars. Gobind Chand is rather more -liberal, and offers us the help of his army to annihilate Wilayat Ali -and his supporters, after which he will take the contents of the -treasury and retire into private life, and we may keep Nalapur. No -doubt he wishes us joy of it.” -</p> - -<p> -“But surely they can’t have started the war with these schemes in -their minds?” -</p> - -<p> -“Wilayat Ali did, I think; but Gobind Chand seems to have been -overreached for once. His eyes must have been opened when Wilayat Ali -failed to support him in his attack on the town; and he didn’t need a -second warning. The assiduity with which the two villains are playing -Codlin and Short for our benefit is really funny, but I rather think -there’s a surprise in store for each of them.” -</p> - -<p> -“Something that will punish them both? Oh, do tell us!” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, there seems some indication that the Sardars are as tired of -one as the other, and will shunt Gobind Chand of their own accord; and -if the Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s tales are true, he has worked up a strong -party among Wilayat Ali’s supporters in favour of his nephew Ashraf. -If so, we may expect some startling developments. The pity is, we -can’t force them on, only sit and wait for them to happen.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch25"> -CHAPTER XXV.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">THE RIGHT PREVAILS.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Quite</span> contrary to his expectation, Sir Dugald was able to ride into -the town again the very next evening, and was received with unfeigned -joy by the two ladies, to whom, through the medium of the talk in the -bazar as reported by the servants, all sorts of hopeful and -disquieting rumours had filtered during the interval. Was it true that -Gobind Chand was dead and the Sardars had surrendered, they demanded -eagerly, or was Wilayat Ali marching upon the town? -</p> - -<p> -“Not that, at any rate,” said Sir Dugald. “In fact, barring accidents, -things are going on pretty well. A deputation from the Sardars came in -last night, bringing a gruesome object tied up in a bundle, which they -said was Gobind Chand’s head, sent in as a guarantee of their good -faith in offering to surrender. Their appearance would have been -sufficient proof, for it was clear they were very hard up; but the -evidence they preferred was distinctly unfortunate, for as soon as the -Chief saw it, he said, ‘It’s not Gobind Chand’s head at all. They have -killed some other Hindu of about the same age, and either they intend -treachery, or the rascal has escaped.’ We had the deputation in, and -put it to them, and in an awful fright they confessed he was right. -Gobind Chand, seeing how matters were going, had managed to get away -some hours before they found it out; but they caught one of his -hangers-on, and thought they would make use of him instead. It was a -very pretty little plan, but they hadn’t counted on the Chief’s memory -for faces.” -</p> - -<p> -“Served them right!” said Lady Haigh fervently. -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” Sir Dugald went on, “it was arranged that the chief Sardars -should come in this morning, as suppliants, and hear what terms the -Chief would allow them. But when they came, they were prepared with a -plan of their own. They were on the point of dethroning Wilayat Ali -before the war began, you know, and his ingenious scheme for employing -us to kill them off hasn’t increased their affection for him, so they -proposed quite frankly to proclaim Keeling Amir, and then help him to -get rid of his predecessor. They seemed to fancy the idea a good deal, -and he had quite a long argument with them about it. He would govern -them justly, as he had done Khemistan, they said, and they would be -quite willing to take service under him and fight any one he chose. He -asked them how they ventured to offer the throne to a Christian, and -they were very much amused. They had known he was a good Mussulman -ever since he came to the frontier, they said, and they were sure he -would be glad to be able to give up pretending to be a Kafir. He -assured them they were mistaken, and one after another got up and said -they had heard him read prayers in a mosque, or seen him do miracles. -Of course we knew then what they were driving at; but the trouble was, -that the more he denied it the more they were convinced it was true, -and that he was afraid of <i>us</i>. We had never known of his proceedings, -it seemed, and might make trouble for him with the Company. They -adjured him pathetically to let them see him alone, and promised that -not one of the rest of us should leave the tent alive to say what had -happened. If he would only trust himself to them, they would escort -him safely to Nalapur, and, once there, the Company might whistle for -him.” -</p> - -<p> -“Dugald! you don’t mean to say they would have murdered you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Like a shot, at a word from Keeling. Things were really beginning to -look rather unpleasant, when the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, in a towering rage, -burst into the conference. It seems that he is back in possession of -Sheikhgarh, having summarily wiped out the Nalapuri garrison. Some of -Gobind Chand’s men tried to make their escape through the hills, and -lost their way and fell into his hands, so he learned something of -what was going on from them. He is not exactly the mirror of chivalry, -you know, in spite of his saintly pretensions; and having so often -traded on his likeness to the Chief, he was seized with a fear that -the Chief was returning the compliment, to the prejudice of young -Ashraf Ali. He brought the youth with him into the conference, and it -was confusion worse confounded when he declared who he was, and -demanded that he should be recognised as Amir. Everybody talked at -once at the top of his voice, and at last, when they had all shouted -themselves hoarse, the Chief had a chance of making himself heard. He -made the Sheikh come and stand beside him, so that the Sardars could -see how the mistake had arisen; and horribly disgusted they were. Then -he invited them to join with us in putting Ashraf Ali on the <i>gadi</i>, -with proper guarantees as to the powers to be granted him; and they -were all inclined to agree to that until a Mullah put in his oar, and -said that the youth had been brought up by a heretic, and was no true -Mussulman. Thereupon the Sheikh swore solemnly that his sect were -rather better Mussulmans than other people, and invited any number of -Mullahs to examine into his nephew’s orthodoxy. As they had been -willing to accept Keeling, whose orthodoxy, on their own showing, must -have been extremely shaky, they could not well refuse, and they are -hard at it now, collecting all the Mullahs within reach to badger the -unfortunate boy. If he survives the ordeal creditably, messengers are -to be sent in his name to-morrow to Wilayat Ali, inviting him to -recognise his nephew’s rights, and surrender, when his life and a -suitable maintenance will be granted him. I wouldn’t give much for his -chance of either when the Sheikh is in authority at Nalapur; and if -he’s wise he will prefer to cross the border and take the Sheikh’s -place as the Company’s pensioner.” -</p> - -<p> -“And if he isn’t wise?” asked Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Well, he’ll scarcely be such a fool as to fight us and the Sardars -together. But if he wants to be nasty, he’ll retreat into Nalapur, and -hold one place after another till he’s turned out, and then wage a -guerilla warfare until he’s hunted down, which would mean unlimited -bloodshed and years of turmoil. That’s his only chance; and as he will -be desperate and at bay, there’s every reason to fear he’ll take it. -Well, I can tell you more next time I see you.” -</p> - -<p> -The next occasion again arrived unexpectedly soon. It was on the -morning of the second day—rumour, good and bad, having run riot in -the interval—that Sir Dugald galloped up to the verandah, and before -coming indoors, shouted for his bearer and gave him hasty orders, -sending off also a messenger to Major Keeling’s house. -</p> - -<p> -“We’re off to Nalapur,” he announced hastily, walking in and taking -his seat at the breakfast-table, “to set the king on the throne of the -kingdom, otherwise to put Ashraf Ali on the <i>gadi</i>.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then has Wilayat Ali surrendered, after all?” cried Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Not voluntarily, exactly, but he has been removed. Sounds bad, -doesn’t it? and I’m free to confess that the Sheikh-ul-Jabal has -managed the affair with a cleverness worthy of a worse cause. We have -been simply made use of, all along.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, tell us what has happened! How can you think of breakfast just -now?” -</p> - -<p> -“How can I? Easily, when you remember that we start in half an hour. -But I’ll do my best to combine breakfast and information. Well, when -the messengers went to invite Wilayat Ali to abdicate in favour of his -nephew, he very naturally sent back an answer breathing defiance, and -containing libellous remarks about the Sheikh’s ancestors and female -relations. The Sheikh promptly despatched a challenge to Wilayat Ali -to meet him in single combat and decide things by the result. Of -course Wilayat Ali returned a refusal, as any man in his senses would, -who had everything to lose by such a combat, and nothing to gain but -the removal of a single adversary. But here came in the Sheikh’s -sharpness. As he told us before, the Amir’s camp was full of his -adherents, and when they heard that Wilayat Ali meant to refuse the -challenge, they raised such a to-do that they nearly brought the place -about his ears. His soldiers became openly mutinous, and the -camp-followers shrieked abuse after him. He must have seen then that -he was cornered, for if he had tried to get back to his capital, he -would pretty certainly have been murdered on the road, so he accepted -the challenge as giving him his one chance. The Sheikh had laid his -plans with such deadly dexterity that there was actually nothing else -to do, for the Sardars were only too pleased to see him in a hole, -after the way he had treated them. So the lists were set—that’s how -the Chief put it—and we all stood to watch. The Sheikh left Ashraf -Ali in Keeling’s charge, and rode out. They were to fight with -javelins first, then with swords. The javelin part was rather a -farce—they threw from such a safe distance, and I don’t think one of -them hit, though one of the Sheikh’s javelins went through Wilayat -Ali’s cloak. When they had thrown all they had, they drew their swords -and really rode at each other. We couldn’t see very clearly what -happened in the first round, but it looked as if something turned the -edge of Wilayat Ali’s sword, and the Chief dashed forward and yelled, -‘It’s murder, absolute murder! Our man wears chain-armour under his -clothes. It’s not a fair fight.’ He wanted to ride in between them and -stop it; but we weren’t going to have him killed, whoever else was, so -we simply hung on to him, and pointed out that as none of us had a -spare suit of chain-armour we could offer to lend the Amir, and the -Sheikh was probably proud of his foresight in wearing his, and would -certainly refuse to take it off, things must settle themselves. He -talked about Ivanhoe and the Templar, but we kept him quiet while they -rode at one another again. This time we saw that, putting the armour -out of the question, the Sheikh was the better man, quicker, more -active, in better training—thanks to the desert life, I suppose. He -avoided Wilayat Ali’s rush in the neatest way—the sword just shaved -his shoulder as it came down—and turned upon him like King Richard in -some book or other, standing in his stirrups and bringing down his -sword with both hands. It’s a regular Crusader’s sword, by the way, -with a cross hilt, and it cut through turban and head both, and the -Amir dropped from the saddle as his horse rushed by. Then came the -finest thing of all. The Chief was boiling over with rage—wanted to -make the Sheikh fight him next, and so on; but on examining Wilayat -Ali’s body we found that he had armour on too. They both wore armour, -each trusting that the other didn’t know it, but each suspecting that -the other wore it too, and that was why they both struck for the head, -so that it was a fair fight after all—from an Oriental point of view. -The Sheikh was proclaimed victor with acclamations, and Ashraf Ali’s -right was acknowledged by most of those present; those who didn’t -acknowledge it thought it best to slink away as unobtrusively as -possible. Then the Sheikh turned to Keeling, and with the utmost -politeness invited him to come to Nalapur as his guest, with an -escort—not a force—to witness the youth’s enthronement. No British -bayonets to put him on the <i>gadi</i>, you see. And we are going.” -</p> - -<p> -“But hasn’t Wilayat Ali a son?” asked Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“Yes, Hasrat Ali, who is officiating as governor of the city while his -father is away. I imagine he would meet with an early death if we were -not going to Nalapur; but as it is, the Sheikh intends to marry him to -his niece, Ashraf Ali’s sister.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, poor Wazira Begum!” cried Penelope. “Is the young man nice?” -</p> - -<p> -“Very far from it, I should say; but when it’s a choice between -marriage and murder, he will probably look at the matter -philosophically.” -</p> - -<p> -“I wasn’t thinking of him,” said Penelope indignantly, “but of the -poor girl. How can they want her to marry him?” -</p> - -<p> -“They want to have a check upon him if he takes kindly to the new -state of affairs, and a spy upon him if he turns rusty, and they seem -to think they can trust the young lady to be both.” -</p> - -<p> -“Well, I call it infamous!” cried Lady Haigh; “and I only hope that -Wazira Begum will refuse and run away. If she comes here, I’ll give -her shelter.” -</p> - -<p> -“You shouldn’t say that sort of thing in my hearing,” said Sir Dugald, -as he rose from the table. “It might become my duty to insist upon -your giving her up, and what would happen then?” -</p> - -<p> -“Why, I shouldn’t, of course!” cried Lady Haigh defiantly. -</p> - -<p class="spacer"> -* * * * * * * -</p> - -<p> -It was a fortnight before Major Keeling and his escort returned from -Nalapur, but messengers were constantly coming and going between the -city and Alibad, so that there was little scope for anxiety. Sir -Dugald came home late one night, and was instantly seized upon by his -wife and Penelope, and ordered to satisfy their curiosity as to the -course of events, which turned out not to be altogether satisfactory. -</p> - -<p> -“The Sheikh has no notion of yielding an inch to make things pleasant -on the frontier,” he said. “He will give up criminals of ours who take -refuge in Nalapur, but merely as an act of grace, and he won’t enter -into any regular treaty. No doubt it’s a piece of wisdom on his -part,—for he is regarded with a good deal of suspicion as having -lived so long on British soil,—and his attitude will tend to disarm -the suspicions of the Sardars and the Mullahs.” -</p> - -<p> -“But how ungrateful!” cried Lady Haigh. “I thought he professed to be -so friendly to Major Keeling?” -</p> - -<p> -“While he was under his protection, perhaps—not when he can treat -with him as an independent power. And, after all, it has been clear -all along that he was an old fox—what with his vows and -dispensations, and his steady pursuit of a policy of his own when he -persisted he had nothing of the kind in view. He was not exactly our -willing guest from the first, you see, only driven to take refuge with -us as the result of what he considers our treachery. He can’t forget -that old grudge, and really one doesn’t wonder. It gives him a -dreadful pull over us that he can always say he has seen the -consequences of admitting a British force within his borders in time -of peace, and doesn’t wish to see them again.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then the Nalapuris will be as troublesome as ever?” -</p> - -<p> -“Pretty nearly, I’m afraid; but as the Chief says, all he can do is to -go on his own way, combining fairness with perfect good faith, and -trust that Ashraf Ali may be induced to enter into a treaty when he is -freed from his uncle’s influence. The worst part of the business at -the present moment is that Gobind Chand has managed to escape into the -mountains between Nalapur and Ethiopia, and has been joined by all who -had reason to think their lives might not last long under the new -state of affairs; and of course any discontented Sardar or rebellious -Mullah will know where to find friends whenever he wants them. Keeling -tried hard to induce the Sheikh to let a force from our side of the -frontier co-operate with him in hunting the fellows down, so as to -stamp out the rebel colony before it can become the nucleus of -mischief; but he utterly refused, and professed to see the thin end of -the wedge in the proposal. They’ll never be able to do it by -themselves, and it’s bound to give us no end of trouble when we have -to take the business in hand at last. But he won’t see reason.” -</p> - -<p> -“Then has Wilayat Ali’s son joined Gobind Chand?” asked Penelope. -</p> - -<p> -“Ah, you are thinking of your young lady friend. No; he was caught in -time, and accepted the proposed marriage with resignation. So did the -bride—if she didn’t even suggest it herself as a means of -strengthening her brother’s position. Hasrat Ali is a Syad through his -mother, so it is a very good match, and the Sheikh seems quite -satisfied; but I rather think Ashraf Ali has some qualms. At any rate, -he is giving her the finest wedding ever seen in Nalapur, and emptying -the treasury to buy jewels for her. He has given her the title of -Moti-ul-Nissa, and has had inserted in the marriage-contract a proviso -that neither Hasrat Ali nor his household are ever to quit the city -without his leave. That is to guard against his taking her away into -some country place and ill-treating her, of course, so he has really -done all he can.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, poor girl! poor Wazira Begum!” cried Penelope, with tears in her -eyes. “What a prospect—to marry with such a life before her!” -</p> - -<p> -“They’re used to it—these native women,” said Sir Dugald, wishing to -be consolatory. -</p> - -<p> -“Does that make it any better? And you—all of you—acquiesce, and -make no effort to save her!” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Miss Ross, what can we do? You know what these fellows are by -this time. If one of us so much as mentioned the young lady, it could -only be wiped out by his blood or hers, or both.” -</p> - -<p> -“It feels wrong to be happy when such things are going on,” said -Penelope, pursuing a train of thought of her own, apparently. “Can -nothing be done?” -</p> - -<p> -“Ask the Chief, if you care to,” said Sir Dugald. “He’s coming to -dinner to-morrow.” -</p> - -<p> -“It really is most unfortunate,” said Lady Haigh, on housewifely -thoughts intent, “that if there is any difficulty with the servants -some one is sure to come to dinner. I know this new cook will lose his -head and do something dreadful. I think you ought to warn Major -Keeling, Dugald.” -</p> - -<p> -“The Chief never cares much what he eats or drinks,” was the reply; -“and he certainly won’t to-morrow,” added Sir Dugald, too low for -Penelope to hear. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Haigh’s fears were justified. A few minutes before the dinner -hour she ran into Penelope’s room, looking worried and hot. -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, Pen, you’re ready! What a good thing! That wretched cook has -ruined the soup, and we can’t have dinner for half an hour. I’ve been -scolding him and trying to suggest improvements all this time, and I’m -not dressed. Go and talk to Major Keeling till I come. Dugald won’t be -in for twenty minutes. Such a chapter of accidents!” -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless, Lady Haigh’s voice had not the despairing tone which -might have been expected in the circumstances, and she ran out of the -room again with a haste which seemed calculated to conceal a smile. So -Penelope imagined, and the suspicion was confirmed when Major Keeling -came to meet her as she entered the drawing-room—he had been tramping -up and down in his impatient way—and remarked innocently— -</p> - -<p> -“At last! Lady Haigh promised to let me see you alone, but I was -beginning to be afraid she had not been able to manage it. I have been -waiting for hours.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh no, only ten minutes. I saw you ride up,” said Penelope, and -turned crimson because she had confessed to the heinous crime of -watching him through the venetians. -</p> - -<p> -“You knew I was here, and you left me alone—and the time seemed so -short to you! Well, it only confirms what I had been thinking—— -Don’t let me keep you standing. May I sit here? Do you remember, that -evening at Bab-us-Sahel, when I saw you first, you promised to leave -Alibad at the shortest possible notice if I considered it advisable?” -</p> - -<p> -“Leave Alibad?” faltered Penelope. “I—I know you made me promise, but -I never thought——” -</p> - -<p> -“I have come to the conclusion that it may be necessary.” -</p> - -<p> -“But why?” she cried, roused to defend herself. “What have I done?” -</p> - -<p> -“You are spoiling my work. I can’t tell you how many times to-day I -have had to keep myself from devising ridiculous excuses for taking a -ride in this direction. I had a fortnight’s arrears of writing to make -up, and yet I have spent the day between my desk and the corner of the -verandah where I can get a glimpse of this house. Now, I know you are -too anxious for the welfare of the province to wish me to go on -risking it in this way, and there is only one remedy that I can think -of.” -</p> - -<p> -“Only one?” Penelope was bewildered and pained. -</p> - -<p> -“Only one—that you should keep your promise and leave Alibad.” -</p> - -<p> -“If you wish it I will go, by all means,” she said proudly. -</p> - -<p> -“But only as far as Bab-us-Sahel, and I shall come after you. And then -I shall bring you back.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh!” said Penelope; then, as his meaning dawned upon her. “I didn’t -think you could have been so cruel!” she cried reproachfully. -Realising that she had betrayed herself, she tried to rise, but he was -kneeling beside her chair. -</p> - -<p> -“Cruel? to a little tender thing like you! No, no; you know I couldn’t -mean that,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“It was cruel,” said Penelope, still unreconciled, and venting on him -the anger she felt for herself. “It was unkind,” she repeated feebly. -</p> - -<p> -“What a blundering fool I am!” he cried furiously. “Why, you are -trembling all over. Dear girl, don’t cry; I shall never forgive -myself. It was only a—a sort of joke. The fact was, I have asked you -to marry me twice already, you see, and I was so unlucky each time -that it made me rather shy of doing it again. I thought I’d see if I -couldn’t get it settled without exactly saying the words, you know. -Tell me I’m a fool, Penelope; call me anything you like—but not -cruel. Cruel to you! I deserve to be shot. Yes, I was cruel; I must -have been, if you say so.” -</p> - -<p> -“You weren’t. I was silly,” came in a muffled voice. “I only -thought—it would break my heart—to leave—Alibad.” -</p> - -<p> -“Only Alibad? Is it the bricks and mortar you are so fond of?” -</p> - -<p> -“I love every brick in the place, because you built it.” -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -Thus it happened that the journey to Bab-us-Sahel, the suggestion of -which had caused so much distress to Penelope, was duly undertaken, -and Mr Crayne insisted that the wedding should take place from -Government House. He said it was because there was some hope now that -Keeling might get a little common-sense knocked into him at last, -which might have sounded alarming to any one who did not know that the -bride’s head barely reached the bridegroom’s shoulder. But Penelope -had a secret conviction that the old man had not forgotten the morning -at Alibad when he welcomed her as his future niece, and that he had -penetrated her true feelings more nearly than she knew at the time. -Held under such auspices, the wedding was graced by the presence of -all the rank and fashion of Bab-us-Sahel; but Lady Haigh, who had -received a box from home just in time, raised evil passions in the -heart of every lady there by displaying the first crinoline ever seen -in Khemistan. The bride was quite a secondary figure, for not only had -she refused the loan of the coveted garment, but she defied public -opinion by wearing an embroidered “country muslin” instead of the -stiff white watered silk which her aunt and Colin had insisted she -should take out with her three years before. -</p> - -<p> -It must be confessed that Penelope was not a success when she returned -to Alibad as the Commandant’s wife, and therefore the <i>burra memsahib</i> -of the place. The town is still famous in legend as the only station -in India where the ladies squabble over giving, instead of taking, -precedence. Long afterwards Lady Haigh congratulated herself on having -been the means of averting bloodshed on one occasion, when a visiting -official, finding himself placed between two ladies of equally -retiring disposition, decided to offer his arm to the baronet’s wife. -“I saw thunder in Colonel Keeling’s eye,” said Lady Haigh (Major -Keeling had received the news of his promotion shortly before the -wedding), “so I just curtsied to the General, and said, ‘Mrs Keeling -is the chief lady present, sir,’ and he accepted the hint like a -lamb.” But at the time, or rather, in the privacy of a call the next -morning, she had taken Penelope to task. -</p> - -<p> -“You don’t put yourself forward enough, Pen,” she said. “Do you think -that if I had been <i>burra mem</i>, the poor General would have had a -moment’s doubt as to the person he was to take in to dinner? You make -yourself a sort of shadow of your husband—never do anything on your -own responsibility, in fact. Why, when the history of the province -comes to be written, people will dispute whether Colonel Keeling ever -had a wife at all!” -</p> - -<p> -“Will they?” said Penelope, momentarily distressed. “Oh, I hope not, -Elma. I should like them to say that there was one part of his life -when he got on better with the Government, and left off writing -furious letters even when he was unjustly treated, and was more -patient with people who were stupid. Then if they ask what made the -difference, I should like to think that they will say, ‘Oh, that was -when his wife was alive.’” -</p> - -<p> -“My dear Pen, you are not allowing yourself a very long life.” -</p> - -<p> -Penelope coloured. “I daresay it’s silly,” she said; “but that is how -I feel.” -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch26"> -CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">“FOR THINE AND THEE.”</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">About</span> a year after Colonel Keeling’s marriage, there came a time -when troubles crowded thick and fast upon the Alibad colony. An -earthquake did terrible damage to the great irrigation-works, which -were fast approaching completion; and when this was followed by -unusually heavy winter rains, the result was a disastrous inundation. -It was a new thing for Khemistan, and especially its northern portion, -to be afflicted with too much rain instead of too little; but the -change seemed to have the effect of making the climate even more -unhealthy than usual. The European officers who rode from village to -village distributing medicines and food, and encouraging the people to -rebuild their houses and cultivate their spoilt fields afresh, fell -ill one after the other; and there was almost as much sickness among -the troopers of the Khemistan Horse, most of whom came from another -part of India, and found the salt desert a land of exile. The alarm -caused by the Nalapuri invasion had at last drawn the attention of the -Government to Colonel Keeling’s reiterated requests for a larger -force; and he had been allowed to raise a second regiment, which he -was moulding vigorously into shape when the troubles began. It was -these new men and their unacclimatised officers who went down so -quickly, and must needs be invalided to the coast; and the Commandant -found himself left with little more than his original force and -European staff when the news came that Gobind Chand was threatening -the frontier anew. From Gobind Chand’s point of view the move was a -timely one, if not the only one possible to him, for the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal, at the head of the young Amir’s troops, was -shouldering him mercilessly out of Nalapur, quite content to leave to -Colonel Keeling the task of dealing with him finally. By dint of -avoiding a pitched battle, and presenting a resolute front to his -pursuers, the ex-Vizier had contrived to keep his force almost intact, -and a golden opportunity seemed to be presenting itself for dealing a -blow at one of his chief enemies while he was already in difficulties. -</p> - -<p> -So black was the outlook that Colonel Keeling thought it would be well -to send the ladies down as far as the river, at any rate; but they -rebelled, pointing out that such a step would cause the natives to -despair of the British cause. Lady Haigh flatly refused to go; -Penelope said she would go if her husband wished it, but entreated so -piteously to be allowed to stay that he, dreading the journey for her, -and little able to spare an escort, consented on the condition that -she left off visiting the native town to take help to the sufferers -there. After all, it was Lady Haigh who was seized with fever and had -to be nursed by Penelope, and she was scarcely convalescent when the -two husbands were obliged to leave Alibad once more under the -protection of the ever-useful Fencibles, and march to the north-east -to repel Gobind Chand. The old Hindu had developed a remarkable power -of generalship at this stage in his career. He refused steadily to -come out on the plains, or even to show his full strength in the -hills. His plan was to lead the small British force a weary dance -through broken country, eluding capture when it seemed inevitable that -he must be caught, and watching for an opportunity of surprising the -weary and dispirited troops. -</p> - -<p> -But it was such an emergency as this that brought out the strongest -points in Colonel Keeling’s character. To find in the ex-Vizier a -foeman worthy of his steel sent his spirits up with a rush; and, as he -had no intention of playing into Gobind Chand’s hands, a very short -experience determined him to strike out tactics of his own. Somehow or -other it became known in the British camp that Colonel Keeling felt -considerable anxiety as to the good faith of Nalapur, now that he was -so far from Alibad. What could be easier than for the Sheikh-ul-Jabal -to swoop down on the practically defenceless town and level it with -the ground? Hence it was very natural that the Commandant should -divide his force, sending back the larger portion, under Major Porter, -for the defence of the town, and retaining only one gun and a small -number of troops for the pursuit of Gobind Chand. Whether Colonel -Keeling had exercised his reputed powers, and actually detected spies -among his camp-followers, or was merely making a bold guess, certain -it is that two or three individuals who had attached themselves to the -British force in order to assure the Commandant that the number of -Gobind Chand’s adherents had been grossly exaggerated, contrived to -become separated from it in the darkness, and by inadvertence, no -doubt, to fall in with the enemy’s scouts, and relate what Kīlin -Sahib was doing. Therefore, as Porter marched away with his force, and -the dust of their passage was seen vanishing in the direction of -Alibad, Gobind Chand was able to concentrate his men round the hollow -in which the British camp lay. Incautious as Colonel Keeling might -have been, he was not the man to be taken by surprise, and he broke -camp in some haste, and effected a safe retreat. But this retreat was -in itself an encouragement to the enemy—especially since the British -force did not make for the plains, but seemed fated to wander farther -into the hills—and Gobind Chand followed close upon its heels. At -evening things looked very black for Colonel Keeling. He and his small -body of men were holding a low hill which was commanded on all sides -by higher hills. The valley surrounding it had only one opening, that -to the north, by which he had entered, and across which Gobind Chand -was now encamped, and it seemed quite clear that he had been caught in -a <i>cul-de-sac</i>. He was clearly determined to fight to the last, -however, for his men kept up a perfect pandemonium of noise at -intervals all night. They fired volleys at imaginary enemies, -performed trumpet fantasias at unseemly hours, and dragged their -solitary gun, with much difficulty and noise, from place to place on -the crest of the hill, apparently to find out where it would be of -most service. In the morning Colonel Keeling looked at Sir Dugald and -laughed. -</p> - -<p> -“It’s Gobind Chand or me to-day,” he said. “If he doesn’t advance into -the valley in half an hour, we are done.” -</p> - -<p> -Before the specified time had elapsed, however, the vanguard of Gobind -Chand’s force was pouring into the valley, the besieged keeping their -gun for use later. Taking advantage of the cover afforded by the rocks -with which the valley was strewn, the enemy, cautious in spite of -their superiority of numbers, settled down to “snipe” at the hill-top. -Colonel Keeling was radiant, and his men needed nothing to complete -their happiness when they heard him muttering concerning “stainless -Tunstall’s banner white,” “priests slain on the altar-stone,” -“Fontarabian echoes,” and other things outside their ken. Suddenly, as -he was making the round of the hill-top, and pushing his men down into -cover, for the twentieth time, he found himself confronted by one of -his own <i>chaprasis</i> from Alibad, who, with a respectfully immobile -face, held forth a letter. The Commandant turned it over as if he was -afraid to open it. -</p> - -<p> -“How did you get here, Rahim Khan?” he asked. -</p> - -<p> -“By a rope from the top of the cliff, sahib.” -</p> - -<p> -“Fool! could the enemy see you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Nay, sahib; I was hidden by this hill as I crossed the valley.” -</p> - -<p> -No further reason for delay offering itself, Colonel Keeling turned -his back upon the man and opened the letter. As he drew out the -enclosure his hands shook and his dark face was white. As if by main -force he unfolded the paper and held it before his eyes, which refused -at first to convey any meaning to his mind:— -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p class="sign2"> -“<span class="sc">Alibad</span>. 1 A.M. -</p> - -<p> -“Daughter born shortly before midnight; fine healthy child. Mrs -Keeling doing well. -</p> - -<p class="sign2"> -“<span class="sc">J. Tarleton</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p> -An exclamation of thankfulness broke from the Commandant, and he -brushed something from his eyes before turning again to the -<i>chaprasi</i>. -</p> - -<p> -“There will be a hundred rupees for you when I return, Rahim Khan. You -had no message but this?” -</p> - -<p> -“One that the Memsahib’s ayah brought me, from her mistress’s own -lips, sahib. It was this: Say to the Sahib, ‘Is it well with thee, as -it is well with me?’” -</p> - -<p> -“Then say this to the ayah: Tell the Memsahib, ‘It is well with me, -since it is well with thee.’ Stay,” he wrote hastily on the back of -the doctor’s note two or three lines from what Penelope always told -him was the only one of Tennyson’s poems he could appreciate:— -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -<p class="i0">“‘Thy face across his fancy comes,</p> -<p class="i1">And gives the battle to his hands.’</p> -<p class="i1">...</p> -<p class="i0">‘Like fire he meets the foe,</p> -<p class="i1">And strikes him dead for thine and thee.’”</p> -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -“If you deliver that safely, it will mean another hundred rupees,” he -said, giving the note to the <i>chaprasi</i> with a smile. “You had better -be off at once. It will be pretty hot here presently.” -</p> - -<p> -The man still lingered. “Is there going to be a battle, sahib?” he -asked. -</p> - -<p> -“Doesn’t it look like it?” Bullets were flying round Colonel Keeling -as he spoke, and he laughed again. -</p> - -<p> -“You are certain you are just going into battle, sahib?” -</p> - -<p> -“Certain; but I am not asking you to go into it with me. Get out of -the way of the bullets as fast as you like.” -</p> - -<p> -Rahim Khan retired, but with dragging steps, and made his way slowly -to Sir Dugald, who was in charge of the gun. To him he gave a second -note, which he took from his turban. Sir Dugald tore it open, and for -the moment his heart stood still, for he thought it referred to his -own wife; but on turning it over he saw that it also was addressed to -Colonel Keeling. -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p class="sign2"> -“2 A.M. -</p> - -<p> -“Symptoms less satisfactory. If you could ride over, it might be as -well. I don’t say it is necessary, but it would please Mrs Keeling. -</p> - -<p class="sign2"> -<span class="sc">J. Tarleton</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p> -“How dare you give me this, when it is meant for the Colonel Sahib?” -demanded Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“I must have given the wrong <i>chit</i>, sahib,” and a third note was -produced, this time addressed unmistakably to Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p> -“<span class="sc">Dear Haigh</span>,—I am not at all satisfied about Mrs Keeling, and she -knows it, but is most anxious that her husband’s mind should not be -disturbed. I have had to give her my word of honour that if a battle -is imminent he shall hear nothing until it is quite over, and the only -way of managing this that I can see is to ask you to take charge of -the second chit I have given Reheem Khaun, and hand it to Keeling at -the proper time. Lady Haigh has been my right hand, and has stood the -strain well. She is now resting for an hour or two. -</p> - -<p class="sign2"> -<span class="sc">J. Tarleton</span>.” -</p> -</div> - -<p> -“If the Karnal (Colonel) Sahib found that the dust of his feet had -hidden the <i>chit</i> from him, he would be very angry,” murmured the -apologetic voice of Rahim Khan, “but seeing it is Haigh Sahib who does -it, his wrath will be appeased.” -</p> - -<p> -“I see. You want to shift the responsibility from your shoulders to -mine. Well, be off!” said Sir Dugald, with an uneasy laugh. He could -scarcely meet Colonel Keeling’s eye when he hurried down to him a -minute or two later, brimful of his good news, and anxious to be -assured that Lady Haigh also was going on well; and he was grateful to -Gobind Chand for choosing this juncture to launch a detachment of his -men at the steepest, and therefore least defended, side of the hill. -</p> - -<p> -“Now is our time!” cried Colonel Keeling, hurrying away. “You can fire -the signal-shot, Haigh.” -</p> - -<p> -The gun boomed forth, and the shot fell in the very opening of the -valley, causing the rest of Gobind Chand’s men to rush forward, in the -belief that they would be safer within the range of fire than at its -limit, an idea which seemed to be justified by the fact that Sir -Dugald left the gun as it was, instead of depressing the muzzle to -cover the enemy actually in the valley. But as the besiegers, much -encouraged, rushed forward with shouts to scale the hill, there came a -sharp rattle of musketry from the cliffs which commanded it on both -sides. The dark uniform of the Khemistan Horse showed itself against -the grey and yellow of the rocks, and Porter on one side and Harris on -the other became clearly visible as they ran along the ranks pushing -down the muzzles of the carbines, and adjuring the men to fire low for -fear of hitting the Colonel’s party. Then also the defenders of the -hill, who had been lying hidden among the rocks, started up and poured -their fire into the disorderly ranks of the besiegers, so that only -one or two daring spirits survived to reach the summit and provoke a -hand-to-hand fight with tulwars. Outwitted, and conscious that they, -and not their opponents, were in a trap, Gobind Chand’s force -remembered only that there was still a way of escape; and the wave -which had surged three times halfway up the hill retreated sullenly, -then broke in wild confusion, and rushed for the opening of the -valley. But Sir Dugald was ready for them. His gun dropped shot after -shot in the narrowest part of the passage, until a barrier of dead and -dying barred those behind from attempting the deadly rush, and when -the boldest had been able to persuade their more timid comrades, who -stood huddled in a terrified mass, to make one last united effort to -burst through, they found themselves confronted by a force composed of -every alternate man of Porter and Harris’s commands. The heights were -still occupied, the defenders of the hill had deployed and were -advancing on them from behind, in front were stern faces and levelled -carbines. There were no Ghazis with Gobind Chand, and the bulk of his -followers were not particularly heroic by nature. They knew that their -leader was wounded, and they threw down their arms and yelled for -quarter. A narrow pathway was cleared beside the ghastly heap in the -entrance of the valley, and they were made to step out man by man, and -carefully searched, for notwithstanding their losses, they were still -more than thrice as numerous as Colonel Keeling’s force. There was no -question of letting them go, for this would have meant for them either -a slow death by hunger or a swift one at the hands of the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal; they were to be planted out, under strict -supervision, in small colonies in different parts of Upper Khemistan, -and they rather welcomed the prospect than otherwise. -</p> - -<p> -It was long before the prisoners were all disarmed, their spoil -collected, a meal provided for them, and the different bands set on -the march, duly guarded, for their various destinations; and not until -then did Sir Dugald venture to give Colonel Keeling the letter which -was burning in his pocket. He saw the sudden fury in the Commandant’s -eyes as he realised the truth, and braced himself to meet it. -</p> - -<p> -“You—you dared to keep this from me all these hours?” -</p> - -<p> -“It was her wish. She made Tarleton promise.” -</p> - -<p> -Colonel Keeling turned and shouted for his horse. “I will never -forgive you if anything goes wrong!” He flung the words at Sir Dugald -as he mounted, then clattered furiously down the rocky track, followed -by his orderlies. One of them fell from his saddle exhausted before -half the distance was covered, the horse of the other broke down when -Alibad was barely in sight; but about sunset a desperate man rode a -black horse white with foam at breakneck speed through the streets, -and reined up precipitately in the compound of Government House. The -servants, gathered in whispering groups, fell away from him as he -sprang up the steps, but the old <i>khansaman</i> ventured to speak as he -saw his master pause to unbuckle the sword which clanked behind him. -</p> - -<p> -“It is not necessary, sahib,” he murmured humbly; but Colonel Keeling -looked straight through him, laid the sword noiselessly on a chair, -and went on, to be met by Dr Tarleton, who caught him by the arm. -</p> - -<p> -“Keeling, wait! There were bad symptoms, you know——” -</p> - -<p> -His friend brushed him aside as if he had been a feather, stepped past -the weeping ayah, who threw herself on her knees before him and tried -to sob out something, swept back the curtain from the doorway and -crossed the room at a stride, then fell as one dead beside the dead -form of his wife, in whose hand was still clenched the note he had -scribbled on the battlefield. -</p> - -<p> -There he remained for hours, his arms outstretched across the bed, no -one venturing to disturb him, until Lady Haigh, her eyes bright with -fever, tottered into the room, and laid a hot hand on his shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -“Come!” she said. “Colonel Keeling, you must. She would have wished -it. You must change your clothes and have something to eat, and then -you must see the baby—Penelope’s baby.” -</p> - -<p> -She could hardly bring her trembling lips to utter the name, but it -disarmed the angry protest she had read in his face. The child which -had cost Penelope’s life! how could he regard it with anything but -aversion? but how she had loved to think of it, planned for it, worked -for it! He turned to Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“I will see the—the child at once, if you please, that you may feel -more at ease. Then Tarleton must take you in hand. Haigh must not be -left alone, as I am.” -</p> - -<p> -The ayah stood in the doorway, with a curiously wrapped-up bundle in -her arms. Lady Haigh took it from her, and started in surprise, for on -the child’s forehead was a large black smudge, something in the shape -of a cross. -</p> - -<p> -“Who did this?” she asked sharply. “Please take her, Colonel Keeling. -My arms are so weak.” -</p> - -<p> -“My Memsahib did it herself,” whimpered the ayah sullenly, with a -frightened glance towards the bed. -</p> - -<p> -“Nonsense, Dulya! Make her say what it is,” she appealed to Colonel -Keeling. -</p> - -<p> -“Speak!” he said, in the tone which no native ever disobeyed. -</p> - -<p> -“It was shortly before the—the end, sahib, and Haigh Sahib’s Mem had -swooned, so that the Doctor Sahib was busy with her, and my Memsahib, -who had the <i>baba</i> lying beside her, asked me for water. Then I -brought it, and she made that mark which the Sahib sees, on the -<i>baba’s</i> forehead, and uttered a spell in the language of the Sahibs, -saying ‘Jājia! Jājia!’ very loud. Then I saw that she was making a -charm to avert the evil eye from the <i>baba</i>, but that her soul was -even then departing, so that she used water instead of something that -could be seen. Therefore, when she was dead, I made the mark afresh -with lamp-black, saying ‘Jājia! Jājia!’ as my Memsahib had done, -that her wish might be fulfilled. But the English words I knew not. -Perhaps the Sahib can say them?” she added anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -“What can it mean?” asked Lady Haigh, who had dropped into a chair. -</p> - -<p> -“She was baptising her,” said Colonel Keeling simply. “Poor little -Georgia—Penelope’s baby!” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely she must have meant Georgiana or Georgina?” suggested Lady -Haigh, delighted to see him interested in the child. -</p> - -<p> -“No, it was a fancy of hers, she told me so once. She wanted to name -it after me, but she didn’t wish people to think my name was George.” -He spoke with a laugh which was more like a sob. -</p> - -<p> -“I know. She had a dislike to the name.” Lady Haigh knew well why this -was. “She would never even call you St George, I noticed.” -</p> - -<p> -He bent over the child to hide the working of his face, and kissed its -forehead. “It’s not even like her,” he said, as he gave it back to -Lady Haigh. -</p> - -<p> -“No; she was so pleased it was like you. Colonel Keeling, don’t steel -your heart against the poor little thing! Think how Penelope loved it. -I know she hoped it would comfort you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing can comfort me,” he answered; then added quickly, “Lady -Haigh, do me one more kindness. Keep the servants, Tarleton, every -one—away from me to-night. They will want to take her away from me in -the morning, I know. I must stay beside her to-night.” -</p> - -<p> -The strong man’s humble entreaty touched Lady Haigh inexpressibly. She -offered no further remonstrance, but signed to the ayah to depart, and -drawing the curtain behind her, left him alone with his dead. She gave -the servants their orders, which they obeyed thankfully enough, -induced even Dr Tarleton to retire, sorely against his will, to his -own quarters, and crept wearily into her <i>palki</i> to go home. She had -risen from her sick-bed to return to the house of mourning, drawn -thither by a horrified whisper from her own ayah to the effect that -“the Karnal Sahib had fallen dead on beholding the body of the -Memsahib,” and she knew that she would pay dearly for the imprudence. -But unutterable pity for the desolate man and the motherless child -quenched all thought of self. -</p> - -<p> -Silence reigned throughout the great house, whence the servants had -departed to their quarters. Even the watchman had been forbidden to -occupy his accustomed post on the verandah, and in the absence of the -regiment and the general disorganisation, no one had thought of -posting any sentries about the compound. The sounds in the town died -out by degrees, until only the occasional distant howl of a jackal -broke the stillness. Colonel Keeling did not hear it, any more than he -did a stealthy footfall which crossed the compound. The old -<i>khansaman</i>, crouching, contrary to orders, in a corner of the side -verandah, heard the step, and covered his head in an agony of terror. -Was not the Sahib seeking to recall the Memsahib’s soul to her body? -and was it not returning? But Colonel Keeling heard nothing, until the -curtain was drawn aside by a hasty hand, and a man stood in the -doorway looking at him, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment. -For a moment both men gazed at each other, then a change passed over -Colonel Keeling’s face which was terrible to see. Deliberately he drew -the sheet over his wife’s face, then crossed the room and hurled -himself upon the intruder. -</p> - -<p> -“You—you!” he snarled, forcing him back into the hall. “Was there no -grave in Gamara deep enough to hide your shame that you must bring it -back here?” -</p> - -<p> -The other man struggled in his grasp a moment, then, realising that -his adversary was endowed with a mad strength before which his efforts -were like those of a child, submitted to be forced down upon the -floor. Colonel Keeling stooped over him with murder in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -“What have you to say before I kill you as you deserve—traitor, -renegade, <i>Judas</i>?” he hissed. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing—except to thank you for saving me the job,” was the reply, -spoken with difficulty, for a hand was on the prostrate man’s throat. -The grip was loosed, and Colonel Keeling rose to his feet and stood -glaring at him, his fists clenched at his sides. -</p> - -<p> -“You’re right. The job is not one I care for. You can go, and relieve -the earth of your presence yourself.” -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t be afraid. Life is not so delightful as to make me cling to it. -Yes; I’m down. Kick me again if you like.” -</p> - -<p> -“Go, while I can keep my hands off you, will you?” -</p> - -<p> -“Tell me where to find Colin Ross, and I will. He’s not at his old -quarters, and I don’t think he would turn his back—even on me.” -</p> - -<p> -“You miserable hypocrite! At his old quarters? when you stood by to -see him martyred in the palace square at Gamara! Don’t try to throw -dust in my eyes. I know the whole story.” -</p> - -<p> -But the man sat up with a look of genuine horror. “On my honour, -Keeling—good God! what can I swear by to make you believe me?—I know -nothing of this. Tell me what you mean. When did it happen?” -</p> - -<p> -“Less than a year after you disappeared. Colin went to find -you—rescue you——” In spite of himself, Colonel Keeling was moved by -the terror on the man’s face. “He was denounced by your friend Mirza -Fazl-ul-Hacq, imprisoned and tortured, then beheaded because he would -not turn Mussulman and enter the Khan’s army. You were present, in -command of the troops. You saw it all.” -</p> - -<p> -“That was not Colin. That was Whybrow. Now I know what you mean.” -</p> - -<p> -“Whybrow—whom you went to save?” -</p> - -<p> -“And did not. Yes. But where is Colin?” he broke out fiercely. “You -say he arrived at Gamara, was imprisoned—you know this? It is not -merely a rumour of Whybrow’s fate? Then he must be there now—in the -dungeon where I saw Whybrow——” his voice fell. -</p> - -<p> -“No, no, he could not have lived so long—if all they say is true.” -</p> - -<p> -“How do you know what a man can bear and live? You despise me, and -abuse me, but you have never had the choice given you between Islam -and being eaten alive by rats in an infernal hole underground. That is -where Colin is—and that’s what Fazl-ul-Hacq meant when he was dying. -There was some order he wished to give, and did not want me to hear, -but he couldn’t get it out—curse him! If Colin had died or been -killed, I should have heard of it. And that is where I shall be if I -can live to get back there.” -</p> - -<p> -“You mean to save him?” Colonel Keeling’s voice had taken a different -tone. -</p> - -<p> -“There is no saving any one from the dungeons of Gamara. But I can die -with him. Was there no one”—with sudden fierceness—“who had common -humanity enough to put that fellow in irons, or send him home as a -lunatic, instead of letting him come after me? He was bound to be a -martyr, but to let him rush upon his death in that—that way!” -</p> - -<p> -He stopped in shuddering disgust, then laughed wildly. -</p> - -<p> -“And how has the world gone with you, Keeling? Got your promotion, I -see, but not exempt from trouble any more than the rest of us! But -what mild, milk-and-water, bread-and-butter lives you lead down here! -You should come to Gamara to see what primitive human passions are -like.” -</p> - -<p> -“Will you go?” asked Colonel Keeling, putting a strong constraint upon -himself. -</p> - -<p> -“You might let me have a word or two with the only Englishman I shall -see till Colin and I meet among the rats in the well! Any messages for -Colin? I suppose Penelope has forgotten us both long ago?” -</p> - -<p> -“If you mention her name again I will kill you.” Colonel Keeling’s -grip was on his throat once more. “She is lying there dead—dead, do -you hear? and all the trouble in her life was due to you. Go!” and he -released him with a thrust which sent him reeling against one of the -pillars of the hall. But the shock seemed to have calmed him. -</p> - -<p> -“Dead—just now? She married you, then? I found all the place -deserted—I didn’t know. Sometimes I think my mind is going. If you -knew what my life has been in that hell——! Forgive me, Keeling. I am -going. Wish me good luck!” -</p> - -<p> -“God help you!” said Colonel Keeling fervently. -</p> - - -<h3 id="ch27"> -CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> -<span class="chap_sub">AFTER TOIL—TOIL STILL.</span> -</h3> - -<p class="noindent"> -<span class="sc">Nearly</span> three years after Penelope’s death, Sir Dugald rode into -Alibad as a stranger. The long illness which followed on Lady Haigh’s -exertions on behalf of her friend so exhausted her strength that she -was ordered a voyage to the Cape as the only hope of saving her life, -and despite her frantic protests, her husband applied for two years’ -leave and took her there, much as an unrelenting warder might convey a -reluctant prisoner to his doom. He was rewarded by an opportunity of -seeing service in one of the perennial Kaffir Wars of the period as -galloper to the general commanding, which served also to mitigate his -disappointment at being absent when a little war, outside the borders -of Khemistan, gave to Colonel Keeling the local rank of -Brigadier-General, and to the Khemistan Horse the chance of -distinguishing themselves beyond the bounds of their own district. Mr -Crayne had retired, and his successor proved to be that rare being, a -civilian who could make himself liked and trusted by his military -subordinates—one, moreover, who knew and appreciated the work which -had been done on the Khemistan frontier, and was anxious for its -continuance. The development of the resources of the country, at which -Major Keeling had so long laboured single-handed, was now pressed -forward in every possible way; and Sir Dugald, as he rode, noted the -handsome bazars which had replaced some, at least, of the old rows of -mud huts, and the growth of the cantonments, which testified to an -increase in the European population. The trees which he had seen -planted were now full grown, the public gardens were worthy of their -name, and there was nothing warlike in the aspect of the -weather-beaten old fort, which seemed as if the passage of years would -reduce it by slow degrees to a heap of mud grown over with bushes. -</p> - -<p> -Fronting the fort, but almost hidden by the trees with which it was -surrounded, stood General Keeling’s house, and Sir Dugald rode into -the compound, to be saluted with evident pleasure by several of the -servants, who came to ask after the Memsahib. As he entered the -well-known office, he had a momentary glimpse of a grey-haired man in -shirt-sleeves, writing as if for dear life, and then General Keeling -jumped up and welcomed him joyfully. -</p> - -<p> -“How are you, Haigh? Delighted to see you, but never thought of -expecting you till to-morrow. You haven’t dragged Lady Haigh -up-country at this pace, I hope?” -</p> - -<p> -“No, sir; I left her at the river. The fact is, Mr Pater wants me to -go on with the steamer.” -</p> - -<p> -“And not come here at all? Why, man, your house is all ready for you.” -The bright look of welcome had gone from General Keeling’s face, -leaving it painfully old and worn. “But I know what it is. King -John”—alluding to the imperious ruler of a neighbouring -province—“wants more men.” -</p> - -<p> -“He does, and he asks specially for gunners. It’s by no wish of mine, -General; but the Commissioner is anxious to send every man we can -spare. The news doesn’t improve.” -</p> - -<p> -“No, of course not. How could it? Haven’t I been telling them for -thirty years that we should have to reconquer India if they didn’t -mend their ways, and they only called me croaker and prophet of evil? -Well, time brings about its revenges. For the last ten years John -would cheerfully have seen me hanged on the nearest tree of my own -planting, and now he steals my officers to keep his province quiet. -Go, Haigh, certainly; and every man I can spare shall go, as Pater -says. We have got lazy and luxurious up here of late. It’ll do some of -these youngsters good to go back to the old days, when a man’s life -and the fate of the province depended on his eye and his sword. Not -but that I have a fine set of young fellows just now. They all want to -come up here—flattering, isn’t it?—and I have to thin ’em out.” He -laughed, and so did Sir Dugald, who had heard strange tales of the -General’s methods of weeding out the recruits who offered themselves -to him. “But how long can you stay, Haigh? Only to-night? Oh, -nonsense! Where are your things?” -</p> - -<p> -“I left them at Porter’s, sir.” -</p> - -<p> -“How dare you? I’ll have them fetched away at once. Send a <i>chit</i> to -Porter, and say I’ll break him if he tries to detain them. But tell -him to come to dinner, and we’ll have Tarleton and Harris and Jones, -and yarn about the old times—all of us that are left of the old lot.” -</p> - -<p> -He broke off with an involuntary sigh, and Sir Dugald wrote his note. -Presently General Keeling turned to him with a twinkle in his eye. -“Don’t tell Lady Haigh on any account, but I can’t help feeling -relieved that she isn’t coming up just yet. I know she’ll want to give -me good advice about my little Missy there, and Tarleton and I are so -sinfully proud of the way we have brought her up that we won’t stand -any advice on the subject.” -</p> - -<p> -Surprised, Sir Dugald followed the direction of his eyes, to see in a -corner, almost hidden by a huge despatch-box, a small girl with a -curious pink-and-white frock and a shock of dark hair. -</p> - -<p> -“She would play there quietly all day, never coming out unless I call -her,” said General Keeling. “If she isn’t with me, she’s with -Tarleton, watching him at his work. He gives her an old -medicine-bottle or two, and some sand and water, and she’s as happy as -possible, pretending to make up pills and mixtures. Or she begs a bit -of paper from me, and writes for ever so long, and brings it to me to -be sealed up in an official envelope—making up returns, you see. -Missy,” raising his voice, “come here and speak to Captain Haigh. He -held you in his arms when you were only two or three days old, and you -have often heard about him in your Godmamma’s letters.” -</p> - -<p> -The child obeyed at once, disclosing the fact that her embroidered -muslin frock (which Sir Dugald had a vague recollection had been sent -her by his wife) had been lengthened and adorned by the tailor at his -own discretion by the addition of three flounces of common pink -English print. She held out a little brown hand to the stranger in -silence. -</p> - -<p> -“Does us credit, doesn’t she?” asked her father, smoothing back the -elf-locks from her forehead. Sir Dugald’s domestic instincts were in -revolt at the idea of the child’s being brought up by two men, without -a woman at hand even to give advice; but there was such anxiety in -General Keeling’s voice that he crushed down his feelings and ventured -on the remark that Missy was a very fine girl for her age. -</p> - -<p> -“We are not very successful with her hair,” the father went on. “The -ayah tries to curl it, but either Missy is too restless, or Dulya -doesn’t know quite the right way to set about it. It never looks -smooth and shiny like children’s hair in pictures.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald wisely waived the question, feeling that he was not an -authority on the subject. “Can she—isn’t she—er—old enough to -talk?” he asked, with becoming diffidence. -</p> - -<p> -“Talk! you should hear her chattering to Tarleton and me, or to her -favourites in the regiment. But she doesn’t wear her heart upon her -sleeve with strangers. If she takes a liking to you, it’ll be -different presently.” -</p> - -<p> -“Do you let her run about among the men?” -</p> - -<p> -“She runs nowhere out of my sight or Tarleton’s or Dulya’s. But the -whole regiment are her humble slaves, and the man she deigns to favour -is set up for life, in his own opinion. What would happen if she took -a dislike to a man I don’t know, but I hardly think his skin would be -safe. Commendation from me is nothing compared with the honour -conferred by the Missy Baba when she allows a stiff-necked old -Ressaldar to take her up in his arms, and is good enough to pull his -beard.” -</p> - -<p> -“She is absurdly like you, General,” said Sir Dugald, disapproval of -what he had just heard making itself felt in his tone, in spite of -himself, while Missy rubbed her rough head against her father’s sleeve -like a young colt. -</p> - -<p> -“Horribly like me,” returned General Keeling emphatically. “Run away -and play, Missy. I can scarcely see a trace of her mother in her,” he -went on, with something of apology in his voice. “You know what my -wife was—that she couldn’t bear me out of her sight. I changed the -arrangement of this room, you remember, because she liked to be able -to see me through the open doors from where she sat, so that I could -look up and nod to her now and then. But Missy is almost like a doll, -that you can put away when you don’t want it, she’s so quiet in that -corner of hers. No; there is one thing in which she is like her -mother. If you say a hasty word to her, she will go away and break her -heart over it in her corner, instead of flaring up as I should do——” -</p> - -<p> -“Or writing furious letters?” suggested Sir Dugald slily. -</p> - -<p> -General Keeling smiled, but refused to be turned from his own train of -thought. “Haigh,” he said earnestly, “take care of your wife while you -have her. Mine took half my life with her when she went. If you could -imagine for one moment the difference—the awful difference—it makes, -you would go down on your knees and implore your wife’s pardon for -everything you had ever done or said that could possibly have hurt -her, and beg her not to leave you.” -</p> - -<p> -“Oh, we rub along all right,” said Sir Dugald hastily, in mortal fear -that the Chief was going to be sentimental. “Elma takes everything in -good part. She understands things almost as well as a man.” -</p> - -<p> -General Keeling smiled again, rather pityingly. Perhaps he had some -idea of the lofty tolerance with which Lady Haigh would have heard the -utterance of this handsome testimony. “My little Missy and I -understand one another better than that,” he said. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you think of taking her home soon?” asked Sir Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“Not of taking her home. My home is here. I suppose I must send her -home some day—not yet, happily. If there was only her present -happiness and mine to consider, I would never part from her, but dress -her in boy’s clothes and take her about with me wherever I went.” -</p> - -<p> -“Heaven forbid!” said Sir Dugald devoutly. -</p> - -<p> -“Don’t be an old woman, Haigh,” was the crushing rejoinder. “What harm -could come to her where I was—and when the whole regiment would die -before a hair of her head should be touched? But Tarleton thinks it -would tell against the girl when she grew up, and I remember my own -youth too well to subject her to the same sort of thing. No, I shall -get your wife or some other good woman to take her home and hand her -over to her mother’s friend, Miss Marian Arbuthnot. You must have -heard Lady Haigh speak of her? They all studied together at that -College of theirs, and now Miss Arbuthnot has a school or seminary, or -whatever they call it, of her own.” -</p> - -<p> -“Surely her views are very advanced?” Sir Dugald ventured to suggest. -</p> - -<p> -“I am glad they are. I hope they are. If it should turn out, when -Missy grows up, that she has a turn for doctoring, I shall beg Miss -Arbuthnot to cultivate it, if it can be done. There’s a lady doctor in -America, you know, and I hope there’ll be another here.” -</p> - -<p> -Sir Dugald looked the dismay he felt. “So unwomanly—so unbefitting a -lady!” he murmured. -</p> - -<p> -“Do you mean to tell me that her mother’s daughter could be anything -but a perfect lady?” -</p> - -<p> -“Considering that she will have been brought up by Tarleton and -yourself, sir, I should say she would be more likely to turn out a -perfect gentleman,” said Sir Dugald gravely, and General Keeling -laughed aloud. -</p> - -<p> -“Well,” he said, “there’s no need to settle Missy’s future as yet, and -she will choose for herself, of course. After all, my motives are -purely selfish. Do you know that our only trustworthy friend in -Nalapur is that excellent woman, the Moti-ul-Nissa, young Ashraf Ali’s -sister? Well, you remember what a little spitfire she was as a girl, -when you and I saw her. Her friendliness dates entirely from the time -when your wife and mine took refuge at Sheikhgarh, and my wife won the -young lady’s heart by showing her what to do for her sick brother. -Think what a prop it would be to our influence here if there was a -properly trained lady who could win the hearts of other women in the -same way!” -</p> - -<p> -“You want to see Missy a female politician, then?” -</p> - -<p> -“I want to see her able to get at these unfortunate secluded women and -find out what their real views and wishes are. The Moti-ul-Nissa has -about the wisest head in Nalapur, but her wisdom might as well be in -the moon for all I hear of it until after the event. Her brother is -altogether under the influence of the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and the old man -can’t forgive me because I pointed out to him that the same person -could not be head of his sect and Amir of Nalapur. He has had to adopt -the younger brother as his spiritual successor instead of the elder, -and he would like to pay me out; but the Moti-ul-Nissa does all she -can for us. That rascal Hasrat Ali leads her a life. Her children have -died one after the other, and the brute would divorce her if he dared. -The poor woman always sends to inquire after Missy when I am at -Nalapur, and I should like to send her to see her, but I daren’t. You -never know whose agents may be among the crowds of women in those big -zenanas, and I can’t run any risks with Missy. But think what it will -be when she grows up, if she cares enough for the poor creatures to do -what she can to help them!” -</p> - -<p> -“I shall think more of her if she does what she can to help you, sir,” -said Sir Dugald obstinately. “But I suppose this grudge of the -Sheikh-ul-Jabal’s means that there is no hope of a treaty with Nalapur -for the present?” -</p> - -<p> -“None, so far as I can see, which is a bore, just when our authorities -have been wrought up to the proper pitch. Pater will back me at the -right moment, and we can offer the Amir a handsome subsidy if he will -keep the passes open and let caravans pass freely, and allow us to -station a resident at his capital. Of course that means practically -that we guarantee his frontiers, but have power to move troops through -his territory in case of a land invasion; and the increased stability -it would give to his throne would make it well worth his while. The -Sheikh and I are trying to tire each other out; but I mean to have -that treaty if I live long enough, and the Moti-ul-Nissa will throw -her influence on my side. When one has served one’s apprenticeship one -begins to understand the ins and outs of these Asian mysteries.” -</p> - -<p> -“Talking of mysteries,” said Sir Dugald, “have you ever heard anything -more as to Ferrers’ fate after—the night you saw him?” -</p> - -<p> -General Keeling’s face changed. “Strangely enough, I have,” he said; -“but whether the story is true we shall probably never know for -certain. I had it from a Gamari Jew who came to me in secret, and was -divided between fear of his life if it ever became known what he had -done, and anxiety to wring the uttermost <i>pie</i> out of me for his -information. I took down the account from his own lips, and have it -here.” He unlocked a drawer and took out a paper, glanced across at -the corner to make sure that Missy was engrossed in her own affairs, -and leaning towards Sir Dugald, began to read in a low voice:— -</p> - -<p> -“‘I was in the city of Gamara a year ago, when there was much talk -concerning Firoz Khan, the Farangi chief of his Highness’s bodyguard, -who had disappeared. Some said he had been secretly slain, others that -he had been sent on a private errand by his Highness. One day there -was proclamation made throughout the city that two men were to be put -to death in the palace square,—one a Christian, the other one who had -embraced Islam and relapsed into his idolatry. Many desired to see the -sight, and among those that found standing-room in the square was I. -Now when the prisoners were led forth there was much astonishment -among the people, for one of them was Firoz Khan; and those that -looked upon him said that he bore the marks of torture. And the other -was an old man and bent, blind also, and walking with difficulty, who -they said had dwelt in the dungeons for many years. It was noticed -that no offer of life was made to these prisoners, nor were any -questions put to them; moreover, his Highness’s face was black towards -every one on whom his eye lighted. But the prisoners spoke to one -another in English,—which tongue I understand, having studied it in -India,—and the one said, “I am a Christian, and a Christian I die,” -and the other, kissing him upon the forehead, said, “George, we shall -meet in Paradise, in the presence of God,” and turning to the people -he cried, in a voice of extraordinary strength: “Tell the English that -this man, who for his life’s sake gave up Christ, now for Christ’s -sake gives up his life.” And when his voice was heard there fell a -terror on the people, for they said it was a young Farangi that had -long ago disappeared, whom they counted to be inspired of God, and -there arose murmurings, so that his Highness commanded the -executioners to do their duty at once; and the heads of the two men -were struck off with a great sword, and their bodies foully dealt -with, as is the wont in Gamara. I know no more concerning them.’” -</p> - -<p> -General Keeling ceased reading, and his eyes and Sir Dugald’s met. For -a moment neither spoke. -</p> - -<p> -“I suppose there can’t be much doubt that it’s true?” said Sir Dugald -at last. -</p> - -<p> -“None, I should say; but we can’t expect positive proof.” -</p> - -<p> -“It’s a curious thing,” said Sir Dugald, with some hesitation, “but -when I told my wife, on the voyage to the Cape, what you had told me -about Ferrers’ turning up again, she said at once that she believed -poor Ross was alive still. She meant to tell you herself—it didn’t -seem quite the sort of thing to write about—but when she was watching -beside Mrs Keeling the day she died, she saw her smile when they -thought she was insensible, and heard her say quite strongly, ‘They -are all there, my father and mother, and my little sister who -died—all waiting for me, but not Colin. Elma, where is Colin?’ My -wife said something—you know the sort of thing women would say in -answer to a thing of the kind—but when she thought it over, it -occurred to her that it must mean Ross was not dead. That again is no -proof, of course, but it’s curious.” -</p> - -<p> -“Very strange,” agreed General Keeling. “Haigh, the more I think of -it, the more I feel certain the Jew’s story was true. What conceivable -motive could the man have for inventing it? He didn’t know that I had -any particular interest in the poor fellows. Poor fellows! it’s -blasphemy to call them that. Colin was a true martyr, if ever man was, -and as for Ferrers——” -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it,” supplied Sir -Dugald. -</p> - -<p> -“Nothing; but what a miracle it seems that he was able to seize the -chance! I sometimes ask myself whether I could have done what either -of them did—lived out those years of martyrdom like Colin, or gone -back to certain torture and death like Ferrers. We are poor creatures, -Haigh, the best of us, and those of whom we expect least sometimes -shame us by what they do. Well, they have seen the end of it now, I -suppose—‘in Paradise, in the presence of God.’ As for me,” he added -with a half-laugh, as he turned to lock up the paper again, “I’m -afraid I shouldn’t be happy, even in Paradise, if I couldn’t take a -look at the frontier now and then, and make sure it was getting on all -right. Why, Missy, what do you want?” -</p> - -<p> -The little girl had crept up to them as they talked, and was standing -with something clasped to her breast, looking in wonder at their moved -faces. As her father spoke, she held out shyly to Sir Dugald a large -octagonal tile, covered with a beautiful iridescent glaze, in a -peculiarly delicate shade of turquoise. “For Godmamma,” she said, and -retreated promptly. -</p> - -<p> -“Why, Missy, isn’t that the slab on which you mix your medicines?” -asked her father, capturing her. A nod was the only answer. “It’s one -of her greatest treasures,” he explained to Sir Dugald. “The men find -them sometimes in the ruined forts round here, but it’s very seldom -they come on one unbroken, and the man who found this one brought it -to her. You really want your Godmamma to have it, Missy?” Another nod. -“Well, Haigh, I wouldn’t burden you with it if I didn’t think Lady -Haigh would really like it. These things are thought a good deal of.” -</p> - -<p> -“Certainly I will take it to her,” answered Sir Dugald. “I am sure she -will like it because Missy sent it.” -</p> - -<p> -The response was unexpected, for Missy wriggled away from her father’s -arm, and held up her face to Sir Dugald to be kissed. -</p> - -<p> -“That ought to be gratifying,” said General Keeling, laughing. Both -men were perhaps not ungrateful to the child for diverting their -thoughts from the tragedy with which they had been busied. -</p> - -<p> -“Gratifying, sir? It’s better than millions of the brightest diamonds -to be kissed by Miss Georgia Keeling.” -</p> - -<p> -“As fond of Dickens as ever, I see. What should we do without him? But -you and Missy certainly ought to be friends, for she knew all about -Paul Dombey long ago. The doll your wife sent her is called Little -Paul, and drags out a harrowing existence of all kinds of diseases -complicated with gunshot-wounds, according to the cases Tarleton has -in hospital. Sometimes I am cheered by hearing that he ‘ought to pull -through,’ but generally he is following his namesake to an early -grave. But I see your things have come, and you will like to see your -quarters. This visit is a great pleasure, believe me, and I only wish -it was going to be longer.” -</p> - -<p> -There was no further word of regret, but Sir Dugald realised keenly -the disappointment that his friend was feeling. When they were -breakfasting together the next day, just before his departure, he -essayed a word of comfort. -</p> - -<p> -“If things get much worse, General, we shall have you fetched down -with the regiment to help in putting them right.” -</p> - -<p> -General Keeling’s eye kindled, but he shook his head. “No, Haigh, my -work lies up here. It would be too much to ride with the regiment -through a mob of those cowardly, pampered Bengalis—too much luck for -me, I mean. I have made out a list for Pater of the men I can afford -to send on by the next steamer, and I must stay and do their work. I’m -glad you will get your chance at last. John is a just man—like most -of us when our prejudices don’t stand in the way—and his -recommendations will be attended to. His is the show province, not -left out in the cold like poor Khemistan. I only wish you and all the -rest could have got your steps for the work you have done here; but at -least I can keep the frontier quiet while you have the chance of -getting them elsewhere.” -</p> - -<p> -<br/> -</p> - -<p> -He stood on the verandah a little later, tall and bronzed and -grey-headed, as Sir Dugald rode out at the gate. Beside him Missy, -raised high on the shoulder of Ismail Bakhsh, with one hand clenched -firmly in his beard, waved the other frantically in farewell. Reduced -in numbers, the Advanced-Guard held the frontier still. -</p> - -<p class="end"> -[The End] -</p> - - -<h2 id="fn"> -FOOTNOTES. -</h2> - -<p> -<a href="#fn01a" id="fn01b">[1]</a> -<i>Syads</i> are descendants of the Khalif Ali by the daughter of Mohammed, -<i>Khojas</i> his descendants by other wives. -</p> - - -<h2> -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES. -</h2> - -<p> -Sydney C. Grier was the pseudonym of Hilda Caroline Gregg. -</p> - -<p> -This book is part of the author’s “Modern East” series. The full -series, in order, being: -</p> - -<div class="quote_o"><div class="quote_i"> -The Flag of the Adventurer<br/> -Two Strong Men<br/> -The Advanced-Guard<br/> -His Excellency’s English Governess<br/> -Peace With Honour<br/> -The Warden of the Marches -</div></div> - -<p class="noindent"> -<b>Alterations to the text</b>: -</p> - -<p> -A few minor punctuation corrections—mostly involving the pairing of -quotation marks. -</p> - -<p> -Note: minor spelling and hyphenization inconsistencies have been left -as is. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Title Page] -</p> - -<p> -Add brief note indicating this novel’s position in the series. See -above. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Footnotes] -</p> - -<p> -Relabel the footnote marker, relocate to end of text, and add entry to -TOC. Note: the author has placed the shorter footnotes in square -brackets inline with the text. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XXI] -</p> - -<p> -“to be sweeping over it, Underfoot were the...” change comma to -period. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XXII] -</p> - -<p> -Change “I bid the <i>Mensahibs</i> welcome in her name.” to <i>Memsahibs</i>. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -[Chapter XXIII] -</p> - -<p> -“it was necessary to <i>rid</i> in single file” to <i>ride</i>. -</p> - - -<p class="end"> -[End of Text] -</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVANCED-GUARD ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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