diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77653-h/77653-h.htm | 3917 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77653-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 2170566 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77653-h/images/illus1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 117831 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77653-h/images/illus2.jpg | bin | 0 -> 138872 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77653-h/images/illus3.jpg | bin | 0 -> 132783 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 77653-h/images/illusc.jpg | bin | 0 -> 92399 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | alibi_txt.txt | 3743 |
10 files changed, 7676 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77653-h/77653-h.htm b/77653-h/77653-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8ae824 --- /dev/null +++ b/77653-h/77653-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3917 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Asoka's Alibi | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap { font-variant:small-caps; } + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.caption p +{ + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; + margin: 0.25em 0; + font-weight: bold; +} + +div.titlepage { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + +div.titlepage p { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; + margin-top: 3em; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: 1px dashed;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph2 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77653 ***</div> + +<div class="titlepage"> + +<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> + <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""> +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<h1>Asoka's Alibi</h1> + +<p class="ph1">By TALBOT MUNDY</p> + +<p><i>Author of "Ho for London Town!" "When Trails Were New," etc.</i></p> + +<p><i>Asoka was a mighty elephant, and none could manage him<br> +save Quorn—sometimes; nor was carnival season, in that<br> +mad, seething India border state, the best of those times.</i></p> + +<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br> +Argosy All-Story Weekly March 9, 16, 23 1929]</p> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">THE MASTER OF ELEPHANTS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">INTRIGUE IN THE RANEE'S PALACE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">THE ART OF THUGGEE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">THE BABU AND THE BRAHMIN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">AT THE FEET OF SIVA.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">ASOKA IN HIDING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">A TRAP FOR ASOKA.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">THE LOST RANEE.</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE MASTER OF ELEPHANTS.</h3> + + +<p>"Reckon maybe I'm nutty," said Quorn to himself. "Hell, supposing I am! +So is Narada. Elephants is the only sane folk hereabouts."</p> + +<p>To comfort himself he looked up at Asoka, the tallest elephant in +captivity, whom only he could manage at the best of times. At other +times Quorn had to ride him as a fury rides a typhoon.</p> + +<p>"You, you big stiff, if it weren't for you I'd pull my freight for +Philadelphia and drive a taxicab again. If I might take you along I'd +join a circus. This here circus gives me the willies."</p> + +<p>He was referring to all Narada, not merely the elephant lines. Narada +is close enough to Rajputana to be soaked with a sense of worn-out +history. Treaties and its mountains have kept railroads at a distance, +and the news comes dim, diluted, and distressing, by mail and word +of mouth, so that people are only aware that the world is changing, +without knowing why, or how, or what the changes mean.</p> + +<p>They feel backward, and resent it, but they keep up the ancient customs +for lack of intelligible new ones. Accordingly, for eleven months of +every year Narada is piously miserable; during the twelfth month it +is impiously mad and happy—more or less—always with a feeling that +happiness has to be paid for, and, though the gods are kindly, there +are as many vengeful and resentful devils as there are gods.</p> + +<p>The carnival falls at the craziest season—April, when the heat is +almost intolerable and nobody has too much money, having paid the +taxes and the money-lenders' interest, so there is a fine feeling of +equality, with common enemies to execrate.</p> + +<p>There is also a yearning in common to cut loose and thumb rebellious +noses at authority, so the underpaid and not too numerous police +receive a lesson in self-restraint; a policeman's head, struck by a +long stick, cracks as easily as any one's; the police station is of +wood and would make a lovely bonfire. So the police stand by, while +Narada eats, drinks, dances, sees the sights, marries and gives in +marriage, is irreverent, sings naughty songs, quarrels and makes it up +again, wears out its finery before some of it is paid for, and does +all those things that good books say should not be done—because next +month it must begin all over again working for the landlord and the +money-lender.</p> + +<p>The sun beats down on that exuberant emotion and ferments it, under +the eyes of Brahmin priests, who understand a little of the law of +give and take. The more impertinences now, the more abject the reaction +presently; the little money fines and penitential gifts will mount up +to a huge sum in the aggregate. Meanwhile even the lousy sacred monkeys +feel the will to be amused and steal with twice their normal impudence, +acquiring wondrous and enduring bellyache from plundered sweetmeats.</p> + +<p>Passion of all sorts blossoms, and there are more sorts of it than most +men guess. Scores of species of holy mendicants arrive from all the +ends of India; so do the astrologers, clairvoyants, ordinary fortune +tellers, conjurers, snake charmers, acrobats, sellers of love philters, +preachers, teachers of how to get rich quick and gamblers to show how +swiftly to get poor again, owners of fighting quails and fighting +bantams, story tellers and proprietors of peep shows. Each sort makes +its own noise, and the din adds madness to emotion.</p> + +<p>Murder stalks abroad. Why shouldn't it? Life and death are one, admits +Narada. Death must have its innings. We might even see a murder, and +get excited about it, and help to confuse the police, if we are lucky. +Hot? Yes, horribly. Dusty? Whew! We sweat, and dry dust sticks to us. +But let's go and see the sights, the free ones first.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Since the legendary Gunga <i>sahib</i> reincarnated and became Ben Quorn, +and the Ranee made him superintendent of her elephants, the royal +elephant lines have been the finest circus in the world. So Quorn had +thousands of visitors all day long; and because he was homesick for the +gray fogs of Philadelphia he was more than usually kindly. His strange, +agate-colored eyes had frightened people in Philadelphia; but here, +under a light blue turban, they suggested rebirth from the storied +past, so that it was no wonder that people who believe implicitly in +reincarnation should insist he was a national hero come to life again.</p> + +<p>Was he not exactly like the image of the Gunga <i>sahib</i> on the old wall +of the market place? Had he not miraculously tamed the terrible Asoka +when Asoka ran mad through the city? And was Asoka not the name of +the sacred elephant the Gunga <i>sahib</i> rode in the ancient legend? And +wasn't it fun to know how mad the temple Brahmins were, since they had +had to bow to public clamor and admit that the Gunga <i>sahib</i> truly had +come to life in the body of Quorn from Philadelphia?</p> + +<p>Some one—nobody knew who, but some one—had explained that +Philadelphia means the City of Brotherly Love.</p> + +<p>Could the Gunga <i>sahib</i> come from any better place than that?</p> + +<p>So Quorn answered questions and wiped sweat from his face until his +throat was dry and he was so weary that he had to sit down on the +upturned packing case beside Asoka. There he could watch all of his +four and thirty elephants, each under its own enormous tree, within a +compound wall that was carved from end to end with legends of gods and +men.</p> + +<p>Since Quorn came, every one of the elephants had learned new tricks; +and he was generous, he staged a fresh performance every hour or so. +The Ranee was generous, too, or else Quorn had persuaded her; there was +free lemonade in such amazing quantities that the mystery was where all +the lemons came from; and the lemonade was pink, which was a miracle, +but it made Quorn feel less homesick.</p> + +<p>He had always loved a circus—always had loved elephants, although he +never knew why and had never had dealings with them until he came to +Narada as caretaker of some abandoned mission buildings. Accident, +according to his view of it, or destiny, according to local conviction, +had caused him to climb on Asoka's neck one day when he was idly +curious.</p> + +<p>Asoka had chosen that moment to go into one of his panics, had burst +his picket-ring and had run amuck through the city. Quorn had stuck to +him because there was nothing else to do; and when the elephant had +stunned himself at last against a wall, it was Quorn who gave him water +and a cool bath in a garden pond—Quorn who coaxed him back to sanity.</p> + +<p>It was in response to popular clamor, and only incidentally as a +political move against the temple Brahmins that Quorn had been promptly +put in charge of all the elephants. Nobody expected him to make good; +not even Quorn had expected it. Miracle of miracles, his love of +elephants had proved to be a film that overlay his natural genius for +training them.</p> + +<p>And Quorn loved his job. But he was lonely.</p> + +<p>There was only Bamjee with whom to be intimate—Bamjee, the +ex-telegraphist <i>babu</i>, who had sat at his instrument and learned +so many secrets, of so many important people, that he had finally +been appointed to the lucrative post of royal purchasing agent as an +inducement to hold his tongue.</p> + +<p>The only other man to talk with now and then was Blake the British +resident, a gentleman so far above Quorn's social standing that, +in spite of mutual respect, anything like intimacy was out of the +question. Actually, at times, Blake and Quorn were suspicious of each +other.</p> + +<p>Secretly, Blake was determined, at all costs, even at the risk of his +official career, to keep the Ranee on her throne and to support her +modernizing efforts. Openly, Quorn was her stanch and loyal servant, +cheerfully willing to run all risks and to defy temple Brahmins or +any one else in her behalf. But Blake's official position as resident +agent of the British-Indian government obliged him to seem critical +and sometimes even threatening, so that the two men did not always +understand each other.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>As for the Ranee, there was no understanding her at all. Like Alexander +the Great, Cleopatra, Queen Elizabeth and Napoleon, she had blossomed +at the age of nineteen and burst suddenly into full maturity of +intellect and statecraft. The last of her royal race, she resembled a +marvelous flower on a dying vine, whose whole strength had gone into +this last effort.</p> + +<p>Raised within the customary <i>purdah</i> that prevented contact with the +outer world, she had contrived, with the aid of Bamjee, who would do +anything for money, to import books and to learn three languages. +She knew everything that has been printed about Napoleon, Frederick +the Great, George Washington, Lincoln and Grant. She had read modern +novels, and was more familiar with modern views than many people are +who see newspapers every morning. And she had unbelievable courage. She +had broken <i>purdah</i> and defied the temple Brahmins.</p> + +<p>If she had been ugly it might not have mattered so much, but a +beautiful young girl arouses comment, and when she rode through the +streets in breeches with no women in attendance, even those who +benefited by her modern views were scandalized.</p> + +<p>She opened hospitals. She superintended sanitary improvements. She +pulled down rat-infested tenements and built new houses for the poor. +And—deadliest offense—she defied the Brahmins' wrath by refusing to +do penance for having broken the rigid laws of caste.</p> + +<p>In consequence, her throne was rather less secure than if it had been +raised on powder barrels. The temple Brahmins were doing their utmost +to produce anarchy, so that the British-Indian government would have +to intervene and either reduce her to the status of a puppet queen +or, possibly, depose her altogether. Everybody knew that. Quorn, in +particular, knew it. That was why he staged the daily circus. They were +her elephants; they should help to make her popular.</p> + +<p>"Not that them Brahmins won't get her," he reflected. "If not one way, +then another. Poison." He shuddered. He, too, had to guard against +poison. "Snakes. Knives in the dark. Accident. Them Brahmins only has +to drop a hint or two and some crazed ijjit sticks a knife in some one +else. And if she goes, I go—same way probably."</p> + +<p>He looked up at the elephant again. "I'd start for Philadelphia +to-morrow, but for her and you, you lump! Do you know what they'd do to +you if I should up and leave you? They'd order out the troops and the +machine gun."</p> + +<p>That was absolutely true. Nobody but Quorn could manage the tremendous +beast. And Quorn knew that the Brahmins were trying to stir public +opinion to demand the summary execution of Asoka as too dangerous to +live. They hoped by that means to be rid of Quorn; he might go home to +Philadelphia if his beloved elephant were dead.</p> + +<p>Quorn's perfect understanding of that phase of the situation was +another reason for his taking so much pains with the daily circus; he +hoped to make Asoka as well as the Ranee more popular. But he kept +constantly close to Asoka, because Bamjee had warned him that an effort +might be made to poison the great elephant with something deadly +inserted in a tempting piece of fruit or sugar cane.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, Bamjee also was anathema to the temple Brahmins. As the +Ranee's purchasing agent it was he who had suggested buying tons of +liquid disinfectant and a spray, with which even the sacred temple +precincts had been drenched for the protection of the crowds who came +in carnival month.</p> + +<p>To say that the Brahmins were annoyed with Bamjee is to understate +it altogether. They were in a state of fanatical mental constipation +on account of him. Nothing could restore their equanimity as long as +Bamjee was alive and at liberty to pocket ten per cent commissions for +inflicting what they considered outrageous sacrilege. And as long as +Bamjee could pocket ten per cent commission, he would commit anything +under the sun.</p> + +<p>So it was obviously Bamjee's cue to keep Quorn posted as to +developments. They quarreled very frequently about the quality and +price of the corn and sugar cane supplied to the elephant lines, and +Quorn had repeatedly earned Bamjee's contempt by refusing to accept +a percentage of Bamjee's commission. But hardly a day passed without +Bamjee visiting the elephant compound and pausing for a chat with +Quorn. He came now. And, as usual, although he would have hated to have +to admit it, Quorn was glad to see him.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Maraj is in town," said Bamjee.</p> + +<p>"The hell you say! Tell the police."</p> + +<p>Bamjee was a pleasant-looking little man, in a gray silk suit and a +turban of the same color, blinking through platinum-rimmed spectacles. +But he could look as contemptuous as the devil himself. The first part +of his answer was drowned by the noise of a snake-charmer's bagpipe +and the drums of itinerant troupes of acrobats, but presently he came +closer to Asoka and sat on a box beside Quorn.</p> + +<p>"The police would resign in a body," he said, "if they were told to +capture Maraj. Self also. Am get-rich-quick exponent of materialistic +fallacy of me first—fallacy because of risks incurred in course +of same. Like any other speculator, might go broke. Like any other +egotist, might tread on toes of wrong rival and be disemboweled with a +dagger—funeral to-morrow afternoon, and nobody, not even you, to pity +me, because I took too many chances. But there is one chance that I do +not take. I do not monkey with Maraj."</p> + +<p>"Hell," Quorn answered. "One mean murderer, without caste or +backing—who's afraid o' that man?" He knew better, but he wanted to +draw Bamjee. "I've heard say Maraj is one o' them Chandala people—folk +that are reckoned worse than hyenas—ain't allowed in cities—lower +than sweepers—insect-eaters—bums—filthy, no account savages too +skeered to look at you excep' sideways."</p> + +<p>"They are," said Bamjee. "They are worse than that. It may be true that +Maraj is one of them. But have you heard of Thuggee?"</p> + +<p>"Thugs?" said Quorn. "Who hasn't? They were stamped out. They were the +guys who used to wander about the country killing total strangers with +a handkerchief—just for the love o' killing. Am I right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but they were not stamped out. They invented another way of +killing, that is all. Death by suicide. There is humor in that. It +is better than murder. He who is murdered is not guilty of his own +death, but whoever commits suicide is doomed to wander endlessly in +total darkness, earth-bound on the lowest layer of the astral plane. +All religions seem to be agreed on that. Even I, who have no religion, +nevertheless believe it. This new form of Thuggee, therefore, dooms its +victim to almost endless misery in an astral madhouse. Maraj invented +it, or so they say. His allies are the Chandala, who are allowed to rob +the bodies and who cover up his tracks and run his errands. You can +guess who his employers are, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean them temple Brahmins pay him?"</p> + +<p>"I am not so crazy. And they are so far from being crazy that they pay +for nothing. A hint—that is enough. Not even such a cunning devil as +Maraj could last long unless he had protection. Nothing for nothing. +How does he pay for protection? He acts on hints. He overhears two +Brahmins saying so-and-so is an undesirable. There is another suicide. +Nobody guilty—nobody caught—only a whisper, and the name Maraj is +more dreaded than ever."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean he kills 'em and makes it look like suicide?"</p> + +<p>"Not so. If he is forced to kill he makes it look like accidental +death. Almost always he succeeds in making them kill themselves, and +there is no possible doubt about its being suicide. All sorts of +ways—clever ways. Bullets. Hanging. Poison."</p> + +<p>"Ye-e-e-s. Maybe. But that ain't suicide if they don't know what +they're doing."</p> + +<p>"But they do know. Mr. Quorn, they do know. That is his ingenuity—his +creed—his purpose—his religion. It is not enough for him to kill +their bodies; he must doom their spirits also."</p> + +<p>"That guy seems to be fixing up a lonely future for himself. Even in +hell there won't be many o' his kind. Well, it's pretty near time for +my act. But what's the point of all this? You aren't skeered, are you, +that he'll suicide me?"</p> + +<p>"There is no knowing," Bamjee answered. "Don't say I didn't warn you. +The temple Brahmins are your enemies. Maraj is in town; and Maraj is +more cunning than chemicals that make no noise but work in the dark and +change something into something else."</p> + +<p>"Mind yourself," said Quorn. "I'm going to unhitch this critter."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The crowd divided down the midst, making a lane along which Asoka moved +with ponderous dignity until he reached the circular roped arena in the +center of the compound.</p> + +<p>Asoka's mood seemed perfect. He knew that the crowd wondered at him, +and he enjoyed it. He quickened his pace as he neared the arena, as if +he liked doing his tricks, and he commenced the first one before Quorn +ordered it, limping around the arena on three legs.</p> + +<p>According to Quorn, he was the only elephant in the world who could +turn a somersault; he did it three times. Then he walked on his hind +legs; he walked on his fore legs; he played the drum; he lay on Quorn +without crushing him; he picked him up and swung him, as if his trunk +were a trapeze; he sat and begged for biscuits as a dog does.</p> + +<p>He caused roars of laughter by opening an umbrella and sauntering +around the ring, holding it at the proper angle to the sun, with a +two-foot dummy cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. He was so +well behaved that he ignored the oranges the children threw to him +until Quorn told him he might pick them up.</p> + +<p>And last of all—his most hair-raising trick—he pretended to get angry +with Quorn and chased him until he caught him, swung him in the air as +if about to hurl him to the ground, but placed him on his neck instead +and started leisurely back toward his picket under the neem-tree.</p> + +<p>"Not so bad, you sucker. If you make yourself all that popular," said +Quorn, wiping the sweat from his face, "they're liable to forget some +o' your peccadillos, such as smashing up the market place and what not +else. Hey—steady now! Don't spoil it!"</p> + +<p>But a naked fanatic whose type of holiness was dancing with a dozen +snakes twined on his arms and neck had forced himself into the lane +between the thronging crowd and blocked the way, giving a technically +perfect exhibition of the dance of death. The crowd watched spellbound, +making no room on either side of him.</p> + +<p>Asoka began to gurgle. There is no truth in the tale that elephants +fear mice, but some of them fear snakes, like a man in <i>delirium +tremens</i>. Asoka hated them; they made him hysterical. Quorn shouted to +the fanatic to get out of the way, but the ash-smeared, naked seeker of +salvation only danced the harder, making his snakes weave themselves in +writhing patterns. He even began to dance toward Asoka.</p> + +<p>Quorn shouted to the crowd to make the fool go somewhere else, although +he knew they would rate it sacrilege to interfere with any one so +holy. He even yelled for Bamjee, knowing that Bamjee had no fear of +sacrilege; Bamjee might have courage enough to whip the fakir off the +lot. But Bamjee had vanished.</p> + +<p>Quorn tried to turn Asoka back to the arena, but the crowd had closed +in behind and on either flank; there was no room to turn quickly. And +suddenly the fanatic flung his snakes straight at Asoka's face. He +might better have pulled the lanyard that fires a cannon. He stood +still, waiting for results, perhaps for half a second.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>It appeared to Quorn—and Bamjee afterward confirmed it—that during +that half second some one shouted in a strange tongue to the fanatic, +who glanced, as if toward the voice, exactly at the moment when Asoka +launched his charge.</p> + +<p>Asoka may have meant to kill him, or he may have been merely hysterical +and in a five-ton hurry to get home to his snakeless, comfortable +picket by the neem-tree. It made no difference. The fanatic was in the +way. He became a crimson mess that writhed as his snakes had done, +crushed flat where Asoka trampled him in passing.</p> + +<p>Quorn heard mocking laughter and knew he was meant to hear it, since it +was pitched above the din the crowd made, but he did not dare to look +to right or left; he had one purpose now—to keep his elephant from +trampling the crowd that was milling in mob hysteria.</p> + +<p>There were only fifty yards to go, and he discovered that he could +guide Asoka easily. The elephant responded to the least touch. He was +not in one of his tantrums.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Quorn, between his teeth, "that guy committed suicide +and you, you're not guilty o' murder. But who's to prove it? They'll +get the Maxim out and shoot you full o' holes, you sucker! Hell, +no—home's no use to you—keep going! Keep on going! You for the tall +timber!"</p> + +<p>There is nothing on four legs faster than an elephant for half a mile. +Bamjee was by the back gate; it was he who opened it. Asoka charged +through like a gun going into action and Quorn heard Bamjee shout +to him something about Maraj. But his ear only caught the one word, +because behind him the compound was full of the din of the crowd and +Asoka, too, was not moving his tonnage in silence.</p> + +<p>Beyond, lay the open road, dusty and winding between ancient trees that +were the fringe of a forest, and Asoka seemed to know he must run for +his life; but to make sure Quorn emphasized the information with the +goad, the iron <i>ankus</i>.</p> + +<p>"Give her the gun now! Step on it! You great big bone-head, think up +your own alibi while you run! And then tell me where to hide you! +Jumping gee whiz, who can hide an elephant?"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>INTRIGUE IN THE RANEE'S PALACE.</h3> + + +<p>Nights are noisier than days when Narada is keeping carnival; and they +are lovelier, because the colored lanterns sway amid a mystery of trees +and the roofs of nearly all the ancient buildings are limned in dim +fire. Shutters are closed; thieves are abroad. But doors are open; +shafts of yellow light cross narrow streets; the passers-by are gaudily +dressed humans at one moment, phantoms the next.</p> + +<p>Friends and their families sit in the doors, adding din to the din. +Men, women, children sleep in any corner they can find, or on the tiled +floor of the market place, or in mid-street, reckless of the traffic; +shadows are avoided for fear of treading on an unseen sleeper, or a +drunken one who might have lost his feeling of inferiority and found +his knife. There is even a certain amount of highway robbery; people +wander in groups, and those who have no friends follow any group that +has the kindness to endure them.</p> + +<p>There was therefore something suspicious and worthy of comment in the +way that Bamjee hurried through the city. He was alone, he avoided +groups as much as possible and he kept in the shadows wherever he +could. He knew Narada intimately, inside out, and yet he wandered +like a lost man and selected streets that almost everybody knew were +dangerous.</p> + +<p>He passed by gambling houses, near which the strong-arm gentry lurked +to rob the winners on their way home. Somebody snatched his watch-chain.</p> + +<p>He was so out of breath and excited that he made the mistake of trying +to elbow his way through a marriage procession. Sixteen sweating +dancers paused from their contortions in the colored lantern light to +hold him while their overseer beat him with a long stick; then they +flung him into the crowd and the crowd bullied him, not knowing who +he was, until he left his gray silk jacket in their hands and escaped +down an alley, where he fell over a sleeping woman, who yelled to her +husband—a lusty peasant, who gave chase, crying thieves and murder.</p> + +<p>Bamjee had to stop and bribe the peasant to let him alone, nor was the +peasant satisfied until reasonably sure that he had all the money in +Bamjee's possession. If he had known Bamjee, and had not been a simple +peasant, he might have suspected that Bamjee did not keep all his money +in one pocket.</p> + +<p>The strangest part was that Bamjee did not head toward his own +three-story house in the bazaar, with its office on the ground floor +and living quarters above, where his family were keeping supper for +him. He appeared to dread pursuit and yet seemed equally afraid of +running into some one who might recognize him.</p> + +<p>When he saw a policeman he ducked down an alley as swiftly as when he +saw a group of temple Brahmins and their attendants armed with staves +to keep the crowd from defiling them with its touch. He avoided all +the temples, yet seemed deadly curious to learn what the crowds around +the temples were discussing; several times he took advantage of deep +shadows to approach and listen. What he learned excited him and sent +him dodging again through shadows.</p> + +<p>It was toward the palace that he headed finally, constantly glancing +over his shoulder, and now and then pausing in doorways to make sure he +was not being followed. He did not go through the main gate, where the +men on sentry duty knew him and the officer was so involved with Bamjee +in intricate schemes for grafting off the public treasury that one +might suppose he would have to be friendly. Friends may be as dangerous +as enemies—especially that sort of friend.</p> + +<p>When Bamjee passed the main gate he took advantage of a four-wheeled, +tented wagon going the same way to screen himself from observation. Out +of breath though he was, tired though he was, he displayed the agility +of a youngster when he came to a part of the wall where stones were +missing and the branches of a huge tree offered means of descent on the +other side.</p> + +<p>However, his wits were tired, too. He forgot that that tree stood in +an inclosure in which a sacred white bull cultivated boredom and a +loathing of all bipeds. The bull was hardly larger than a big dog, but +at least as active and not at all in love with being awakened in the +night.</p> + +<p>Bamjee fell almost on top of him. There was sudden and tremendous +noise. Bamjee went out over the six-foot wall of the inclosure faster +than a monkey, thanking a whole pantheon of gods that he did not +believe in, because his pants and not his thigh muscles had caught on +the bull's horn.</p> + +<p>One pants-leg was still intact; by holding onto the other as he ran, he +could make himself believe he looked presentable. It is what we believe +that matters—until there is collision with a stronger disbelief.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He fled like a ghost through the trees in the palace garden, skirting +the portico and the terraces until he reached the servants' quarters +and the back door used by underlings. There was nothing normal about +that; Bamjee, as official purchasing agent with a position to keep up +before the world, had never felt he could afford to be admitted to the +palace by any except the front door. Suspicion reared itself against +him, blackmail springing from it, as naturally as Minerva from the brow +of Jove.</p> + +<p>He was greeted by a <i>hamal</i>, which is a kind of go-between servant who +normally does all the butler's work, and gets and deserves all the +blame for whatever goes wrong. The <i>hamal</i> refused to recognize him at +first, although he did concede the advisability of standing in the dark +to talk. Blackmail abhors witnesses as absolutely as nature abhors a +vacuum.</p> + +<p>"I am Bamjee!"</p> + +<p>"By Siva's necklace, that is an easy thing to say and any one might +say it in the dark. But Bamjee <i>sahib</i> has the name of being a liberal +gentleman."</p> + +<p>Bamjee had to feel under his shirt for money, and it was so dark in +that corner behind the butler's pantry wall that he could not see the +denomination of the bills he drew forth. He had to guess.</p> + +<p>He guessed wrong. It was too much money for a <i>hamal</i>.</p> + +<p>"Son of an immoral mother, hide that in your belly-band and take my +message."</p> + +<p>But the <i>hamal</i> turned toward the light. He saw a fifty-rupee note. He +hid it with the swiftness of a roadside conjurer.</p> + +<p>"But, Bamjee, <i>sahib</i>, my day's work is over. I am not even allowed to +enter the kitchen again until to-morrow morning. Will to-morrow not do?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know what <i>now</i> means? Ingrate! If the nowness of the now does +not make you act swifter than dynamite I will see to it that you have +no job to-morrow morning. You are out—a screech-owl screaming in a +wilderness of debt with a wife on her way to another man's arms and +your children following the chickens through the streets to pick up +food, unless you take my message now! Now, do you understand me? Go +before I beat the teeth out of your head!"</p> + +<p>"But, <i>sahib</i>—"</p> + +<p>"Very well, I will make a great noise and summon the butler. I will +tell him you offered to sell me some of the palace silverware for +one-fifth of its weight in rupees."</p> + +<p>"<i>Sahib</i>, the butler would demand at least two hundred rupees to take +such a message at this hour. Whereas I, if he should catch me before +I whisper to one of the maids, could bribe him with only fifty. So +give me fifty more and I will do it. Thus I shall have only forty for +myself, because I must give the maid ten—at least ten."</p> + +<p>Bamjee paid him in the dark and was so impatient and excited that he +never knew that he had given the man an extra hundred by mistake. He +sat down in the dark and waited—endlessly it seemed to him, while the +<i>hamal</i> sent the message up in relays to the roof, each relay offering +excuses and objections until the last possible cent had been squeezed +from the man below and the <i>hamal's</i> hundred and fifty dwindled to a +hundred.</p> + +<p>It appeared there was a party on the roof; it was no time to interrupt +a royal lady, even though she was breaking every canon of tradition by +entertaining men in her palace, and of the two men one an Englishman. +Even Bamjee, the contemptuous skeptic, shuddered at the idea of an +Englishman drinking champagne with the Ranee on the palace roof. It +made him repeat to himself the dark names certain temple priests were +calling her.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The message reached its goal at last and there was no more lost time. +It might be difficult to reach the Ranee from below, but when she +commanded from above it was as if she pressed an electric button and +things happened. Men leaped to obey.</p> + +<p>A very important palace personage was sent to guide Bamjee up a +labyrinth of stairs and passages; and because his pants were torn he +was supplied with an Indian costume of crimson silk before he was +ushered into the presence, amid a fairyland of colored lights, in a +garden that bloomed in tiled flower beds, where baskets that seemed +to have been fastened to the stars swayed gently in the night air, +drenching it with the scent of musk, and a splashing fountain filled +the air with music.</p> + +<p>There was other music also; women behind a marble lattice-work were +playing flutes; a man was singing the love-song of the bride of +Krishna. Bamjee, stepping out of darkness with the colored lamp-light +on his crimson costume looked no longer like a <i>babu</i>; he resembled an +ambassador from Araby, bringing news of caravans loaded with spices and +slaves and jewels.</p> + +<p>He even forgot his nervousness to some extent, because Marmaduke +Brazenose Blake was seated smoking in a lounge chair, dressed in a +black dinner jacket, with his monocle fixed in his eye and an air of +bachelor enjoyment like an aura all around him. It was such a scandal +that Blake should be there that Bamjee grew for the moment almost +superior to his surroundings—almost, but not quite.</p> + +<p>Facing Blake sat Rana Raj Singh, prince of a line of Rajput blood so +purple that its sources—so men say—are traceable to when the gods +made merry on the earth with men and were a trifle more than merry with +the women. Tall, black-bearded, handsome—graceful with the litheness +of a swordsman who can hunt the gray boar with a sword on horseback, +who has lived clean and neither drinks nor guzzles.</p> + +<p>His presence was, if possible, the more scandalous. Blake, it might be +presumed, might hardly understand the horror of the Indian aristocracy +if it should learn that he was sitting <i>vis-à-vis</i> the Ranee on her +sacred roof—and she unveiled. But they would know that Rana Raj Singh +understood the significance, even as Bamjee did. It meant that the +pillars of Indian aristocracy were falling—or else changing; and to +some people change is as bad as decay. Rana Raj Singh was a cataclysm, +not a scandal; compared to his presence there, Sodom and Gomorrah were +a minor incident.</p> + +<p>But the Ranee, even at nineteen, which is a revolutionary age, had not +thrown all tradition to the winds. She had kept its substance, while +throwing away the shell. She had ten of her ladies with her, five on +either hand—surely sufficient witnesses to prove to any jury that she +had not sinned as deeply as Mother Eve, who set the first unveiled +example.</p> + +<p>Nor had she forgotten strategy. Her ladies were as marvelously dressed +as flowers in the early morning dew, but none of them was younger than +herself and some were older; none was as good-looking. Her dress was +the plainest and made in Paris by a magician who knew how youth should +look beneath a hot night sky amid the smell of musk and the rustle of +palm leaves.</p> + +<p>Although Bamjee knew her well, and had seen her often, in that setting +she made his sharp little eyes almost snap from his head, and took away +all his remaining breath.</p> + +<p>"What can it be, Bamjee, so important that you must intrude at this +hour?" she asked pleasantly. But underneath the velvet voice there was +a hint of iron. It might not fare well with Bamjee if his errand lacked +justification. "Speak," she said. "The company will excuse you."</p> + +<p>"Sister of the Starlight, this is terrible and secret news I bring," +said Bamjee. "Is it wise to spread the scroll of evil before strangers' +eyes?" he quoted.</p> + +<p>"Who, then, is the stranger?" she asked him. "Speak, fool!"</p> + +<p>"But, Daughter of the Dew, there are the servants—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well." She clapped her hands until the chief attendant stood +before her. "You and the servants have my leave to go until I send for +you again. See that none waits in hiding behind the flower pots—and +now," she said, staring at Bamjee. "What is it?"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"The elephant Asoka slew a man."</p> + +<p>"I know that. It is a great pity, even though the man who was killed +seems to have been almost as disgusting a reptile as the snakes that +crawled like vermin on him. I am sorry to say that Asoka will have to +be shot, unless—perhaps you have come to tell me some way out of it?"</p> + +<p>"Playmate of the gods, they are saying that the man who was slain was +Maraj! He was crushed out of recognition. Who shall say it was not he?"</p> + +<p>"Who should want to say it was not Maraj? If such good news is true +your intrusion is justified. We may forgive Asoka."</p> + +<p>"Lioness of Heaven, it was not Maraj! Maraj himself has spread that +rumor and the temple Brahmins are confirming it. Why? Why not? Whoever +thinks Maraj is dead is less on guard against him. Nevertheless, +although the temple Brahmins are helping to spread that rumor, to you +they will make no such pretense. They will send to you to-morrow. They +will say the slain man was a holy one and they will try to force you to +order the troops to shoot Asoka. Why? Because that would cause Quorn +to leave Narada and return to the United States, thus depriving you of +your Gunga <i>sahib</i>, who has been so helpful in breaking the Brahmins' +tyranny. This they will do to-morrow, nevertheless knowing that it was +Maraj who slew that fakir with the snakes!"</p> + +<p>"Maraj who slew him? What then had Asoka to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"The man was suicided!"</p> + +<p>"Hell's bells! muttered Blake, and Rana Raj Singh scratched the chin +beneath his beard.</p> + +<p>"How do you know this, Bamjee?"</p> + +<p>"Beloved by the Rishis, if I should dare to tell you—"</p> + +<p>"If you should dare not to, Bamjee—do you wish to resign from your +post as purchasing agent? Do you wish to leave Narada? Do you wish the +auditor to publish the report that he has shown me privately?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" said Bamjee. "This <i>babu</i> is on the horns of a dilemma! +How do I know it was Maraj who suicided that abominably holy person? I +know it as well as I know I also shall be suicided if it ever leaks out +who told! That very holy person was the man whose poisonous serpents +were employed to slay Ali Gul the Moslem money-lender, whom all hated. +Was he slain? No. He was suicided. Why not? Had he not a mortgage on a +property that the Brahmins said was their property? Was the mortgage +found after his death? No. He also had a mortgage on a property of +mine. Was that found? No. Were any of his papers found? No. How was he +suicided? He was given his choice between taking a living cobra into +his bed that night or being accidentally caused to break a vial of +carbolic acid with his face. And how do I know that? His widow told me. +How did she know? She was in the secret cabinet where Ali Gul used to +hide witnesses to what were supposed to be secret conversations."</p> + +<p>"This story sounds fishy to me," remarked Blake and Rana Raj Singh +nodded, but his nod was neutral. He was possibly confirming his own +estimate of Blake's neutrality. Blake turned to the Ranee. "Of course, +your highness, as your guest I cannot take official cognizance of any +of this. But may I ask to be excused from hearing more. It might be +awkward."</p> + +<p>The Ranee smiled as sweetly as if she were Machiavelli himself +in woman's raiment. Blake, as the official representative of the +British-Indian government, with authority to advise and keep watch +and report, was no bugbear to her—not though on the strength of his +reports the British-Indian government might send commissioners to rule +in her name and reduce her to the status of a puppet-queen. He was a +sportsman and a gentleman—insuperable handicaps in dealing with a +woman who understood both qualities and had the wit to play the game +according to his rules, but with her own rules added.</p> + +<p>"I might need you," she said, gazing at him. "For the present let us +call this a private conversation. Confidential—under the seal of +hospitality. Then, if it gets too serious, I could consent to your +breaking the seal of confidence, without having to tell you it all from +the beginning."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Blake should have taken his leave. But he loved her too well, in a +fatherly, middle-aged bachelor fashion. She was too amusing to be left, +and also too likely to do something recklessly behind his back that +might cost him months of letter-writing to his government to explain +away. He was lazy and hated writing letters. His purpose was to keep +her on the throne in spite of her own recklessness, and in spite of +all her enemies, if he could manage it by any gentlemanly means. He +repeatedly risked his own good standing with his government to cover +the strategic errors due to her inexperience.</p> + +<p>"Highly irregular," he said, frowning. "However, I will stay if you +wish."</p> + +<p>And then came Quorn—at first a message from him, saying he was +downstairs in the front hall threatening mayhem to the palace servants +who kept him waiting there.</p> + +<p>"Daughter of the Dawn, he uses strange oaths, yet he is not drunk."</p> + +<p>Then Quorn himself, treading the heels of the servant sent to bring +him—Quorn in his turban, with a ready-made blue serge jacket on over +his Indian costume, and in his right hand the <i>ankus</i> of office, +the iron hook with which he normally controlled Asoka's ponderous +movements. Servants standing near him shuddered at it. The Ranee +dismissed the servants.</p> + +<p>"Miss," he began, then hesitated, being vague on the subject of +etiquette. Besides, Blake's presence bothered him. He liked Blake, but +he was too much a restraining influence on the Ranee to be suffered +without some resentment. Also he knew that Blake disliked that form of +address to a reigning Ranee.</p> + +<p>The Ranee nodded. She liked Quorn to call her miss—it sounded so +enormously more honest than titles such as Bamjee and her servants +used. She valued Quorn more highly than a dozen Blakes, and at that +without robbing Blake of credit. It is only fools and knaves who +undervalue one man because they recognize the different merits of +another. She was neither a fool nor more of a knave than any statesman +has to be.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Quorn?"</p> + +<p>"You heard what Asoka done, miss? 'Tweren't his fault. He was behaving +gentle as a lamb. That there holy feller went and beaned him with a +raft o' snakes that would have made a temple statue throw a fit. And +mind you, it was done a-purpose. Some one laughed. Maybe you don't +know the kind o' laugh I mean! There's Brahmins at the bottom of it, +them there temple Brahmins. I've been home to clean up, miss, and my +Eurasian servant Moses had an earful for me. They've been bragging to +him—told him now you'll have to order out the Maxim squad to shoot +Asoka first thing to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"Have you any suggestions to offer, Mr. Quorn?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss—excepting, if you will pardon me, miss, and no insolence +intended—I'd as soon they'd shoot me first. I couldn't tell you, miss, +how much that critter means to me. And he weren't guilty. No, miss, +he didn't even throw a tantrum. He was same as me or you if we'd had +poison snakes thrown at us.</p> + +<p>"And the devil who did it had time to get out o' the road, too. He +was one o' these here fanatics. He chose that way o' dying. Miss, it +wouldn't be fair to shoot Asoka—not for that."</p> + +<p>"Where is Asoka now?" she asked him.</p> + +<p>"Miss, I've got him hid."</p> + +<p>Because she was young and not yet spoiled by life, the Ranee did not +sigh relief, she smiled it. It was Blake who sighed. Rana Raj Singh +grunted.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of hiding needles in a haystack," said the Ranee. "Are +you sure that no one knows where you have hidden him?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss, I ain't sure of nothing. But I'm reasonably sure."</p> + +<p>"How will you feed him? Can't they follow you when you come and go?"</p> + +<p>"That's just exactly it, miss. I want leave of absence, please, and +some money."</p> + +<p>"My steward shall give you money. Yes, you may have leave of absence."</p> + +<p>"There was something else, miss." Quorn glanced sidewise at Bamjee, +whom he trusted at any time about half as far as he could see him.</p> + +<p>But the Ranee had a trick of trusting untrustworthy people in the same +way that some people skate on thin ice, going where others don't dare +to go. It pays if you can do it; and if you can't you only drown, so it +doesn't matter.</p> + +<p>"Listen to this, Bamjee," she said. "Listen well. It would do your +credit with me no harm if you should happen this once—this first +time—to be loyal and secretive."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Bamjee smirked a protest of his loyalty. He bowed acknowledgment of +trust. He opened his eyes and snapped his mouth shut, symbolizing +secrecy. He threw a chest. Manfully he held his hands behind him. He +deceived the Ranee as thoroughly as a child deceives its nurse at +hide-and-seek.</p> + +<p>"I will order the treasurer to hold up for the present all the money +due you for commissions," continued the Ranee. "And now, Mr. Quorn, +what is it?"</p> + +<p>"This, miss. Them there Brahmins. I figure you're number three on the +Brahmins' list. They mean to get Asoka first, me next, and then you. If +they can force you to order Asoka shot, that gets rid o' me automatic. +I'd go home. You could get along, o' course, without me, easy.</p> + +<p>"But you can't afford to have them Brahmins bragging they put one over +on you. So I'm here to say I'll stand by you and take all chances o' +black magic, and snakes, and this here murderer Maraj, if you'll okay +me."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean—okay you?"</p> + +<p>"War, miss! War to a finish! Back me until I get this guy Maraj and +prove him on the Brahmins! Flynn ain't my name. I'm no Pinkerton or +Burns. I'm plain yours truly with his goat got and his dander good and +riz. There won't be no widow or orphans if they get my number. I wrote +my will the other day. I named Asoka; he's to have my bit of insurance +money. If Asoka dies first, then it goes in a lump to the feller that +gets the crook who killed him. Only, if Asoka should be executed, then +the money goes where it can do the most harm; I've named a gang of +reformers in the States who'll make more trouble for the Brahmins with +my bit o' money than Asoka himself could if he tore loose at one o' +their celebrations. So that's that, miss. Are you in on it?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. Blake looked nervous; he knew the danger of what Quorn +proposed.</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh, thrusting his jaw forward, stroked it, running his +fingers through his beard.</p> + +<p>"My God!" said Bamjee. "You bequeath your money to an elephant?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Quorn," said the Ranee, "I appoint you my special agent to +investigate Maraj and his association with the Brahmins. You may kill +him wherever you find him. You may give whatever orders you please. You +may employ the troops, the police, my palace servants, Bamjee—any one. +I will put that in writing and sign and seal it. If any one refuses to +obey you you may have him put in prison. If you catch Maraj or kill +him, and if you prove he was in any way associated with the Brahmins, I +will raise you to the rank of <i>Sirdar</i> and I will use what influence I +have with Mr. Blake to get the British government to confirm the title. +Does that satisfy you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>"What else? You seem to have something else on your mind?"</p> + +<p>Quorn looked straight at Rana Raj Singh—very straight indeed, but +he could see Blake's face at the same time, and he knew better than +vaguely what was going on in Blake's mind.</p> + +<p>As an independent prince without a fortune, but with a tremendous +reputation, who was modern enough to woo the Ranee in the modern way, +Rana Raj Singh would be a deadly dangerous spark to plunge into the +magazine of local politics. His interference might provide excuse for +riots. On the other hand, he had a handful of Rajput followers, than +whom there could not possibly be better and braver or more willing +experts at hunting a murderer down.</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh slowly rose out of his chair. He nodded at Quorn. He +smiled at the Ranee, showing wonderful white teeth. He smiled at Blake. +Then he nodded at Quorn again.</p> + +<p>"You will need help," he said. "I will provide it. You may order me, +too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" said Bamjee.</p> + +<p>That was reasonable comment. When a prince, whose pedigree is older +than the proudest European king's, submits himself to the disposal of +a man of an alien race, whose business is training elephants and whose +pedigree dates from just before the time when births in Philadelphia +were legally recorded, it is thinkable, even by Bamjee, that the two of +them are first-class men.</p> + +<p>Blake actually dropped his monocle, and had to screw it in again. The +Ranee's ladies fluttered with astonishment.</p> + +<p>The Ranee looked with wondering eyes from Quorn to Rana Raj Singh and +then back again. Quorn stiffened himself, caught Rana Raj Singh's eye +and answered him with four words:</p> + +<p>"Sir to you, sir."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE ART OF THUGGEE.</h3> + + +<p>Say this for England: a Residency is a place where any one is safe, +no matter who he is nor why he has taken refuge. Since '57, when they +held the Lucknow Residency against as long odds as were ever laid +against a garrison, it has become a part of India's superstition that +a Residency is inviolable.</p> + +<p>The upper classes recognize it as an embassy or legation, with all +that implies; the lower classes don't reason about it, but even the +criminals respect it as a sanctuary, where life at any rate is safe +until the law determines otherwise. No violence in Residency grounds.</p> + +<p>"Quorn," said Blake as they left the palace, "I'm going to take you up +behind me on my horse and ride you to the Residency. I've a notion you +may have been followed here, and they may be on the lookout for you. I +will talk with you—unofficially—after we reach my quarters."</p> + +<p>Blake's whaler mare behaved abominably, not being used to the weight +of two men, and Quorn was no horseman. They clattered on the stones +beneath the guardhouse gate: they plunged and lunged along the street +outside, shying at every shadow; and they made so much noise that all +Narada might have heard and seen and recognized them.</p> + +<p>However, nothing happened, and Blake's servant, running alongside, +reported that, as far as he knew, they were not being followed—until +they left the zone of partially lighted streets and plunged into the +pitch-dark lane between high walls that led toward the Residency +compound. There the servant fell and smashed his lantern.</p> + +<p>Blake reined in, and Quorn jumped down to help the man. He could hear +him sobbing. He groped for him in total darkness, finding him—feeling +him just as the sobbing ceased. He could feel two men. They were both +dead.</p> + +<p>"Got a match, sir?"</p> + +<p>Blake passed him a box of matches. Blake's Moslem servant, Abdul, lay +dead of a knife wound. He was lying prone on another man, who lay face +upward and who seemed to have been dead for quite a little while before +Abdul tripped and fell belly downward on the long, razor-edged knife +whose hilt was in the dead man's hand.</p> + +<p>"But there's another, smaller blade below the hilt, sir," Quorn +reported, striking match after match. "It's one o' them there weapons +that can be used as sword and dagger. The shorter blade is stuck into +the dead guy's stomach; that's what held the knife upright.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, Abdul is stone dead. The long blade passed clean through +him—there's three inches of it sticking out of his back. If you should +ask me, he couldn't fall that hard. I'd say not. There's something +tricky about the way the lamp was smashed—as if it was knocked out of +his hand on purpose. Would you care to look, sir, if I hold the horse? +It looks to me as if some one jumped on Abdul's back and forced him +down on the knife."</p> + +<p>"Are you positive he's dead?" asked Blake.</p> + +<p>"As dead as mutton."</p> + +<p>"Well, the thing to do is to get his body to the Residency. Which shall +it be? Will you run on and bring back any of my servants you can find? +Or will you wait here while I gallop and get them?"</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, sir. That's the quickest. Do you pack a gat, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Do I do what?"</p> + +<p>"Carry an automatic?"</p> + +<p>"No, confound it. Here, are you sure both men are dead? Get up behind +me then and we'll both go. That's safer."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I'll be all right. I'll stay here. You hurry."</p> + +<p>It was Blake's off night. No human being ever lived who did not make +a murderous mistake at one time or another. Blake rammed in his spurs +and thundered down the dark lane like a whole troop of cavalry. He made +enough noise to drown the shouts of ten men, and his own shouts, to his +servants, as he neared the Residency, were enough to deafen them to +any noises Quorn made—not that Quorn made any.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He hardly knew what struck him. He felt a stinging blow from behind and +smelled the misty stench of a burlap gag that was thrust into his mouth +and wrapped around his head.</p> + +<p>He struck out blindly with his fists, but hardly felt his wrists seized +and pinioned, hardly felt his ankles being tied before he became +unconscious from the blow—or perhaps from some drug with which the +gag was soaked; it tasted beastly. He had seen nobody; he had heard no +sound; he could not even swear that a cry had escaped his own lips.</p> + +<p>He recovered consciousness within a dark room and lay listening to +voices that, for a long time, seemed to be inside his own head. It +seemed to him he was home in Philadelphia. His taxicab had been in +some sort of smash-up—his first. He felt ashamed, and afraid for his +license. After awhile he shook off that feeling, but the voices seemed +to come from another world—inhuman, without emotion, hollow.</p> + +<p>At last, though, he was able to recognize a few words in the local +native tongue, but it was a long time before he could make any sense of +what was being said. There was an argument—hot on one side, ice cold +on the other. One man was urging action, to which the other appeared +insolently indifferent.</p> + +<p>"If you don't kill him now—"</p> + +<p>"I know my business."</p> + +<p>"He is probably listening!"</p> + +<p>"Let him."</p> + +<p>"Can't you understand that the Englishman, Blake, will raise such a hue +and cry that—"</p> + +<p>"I have understanding. I am not in need of advice from you."</p> + +<p>"By Jinendra's nose, I am not giving you advice! I order you!"</p> + +<p>"Order somebody who will obey you—some priest, for instance. I am no +temple rat."</p> + +<p>"Too much success has made you insolent."</p> + +<p>"No. I was always insolent."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we should turn against you?"</p> + +<p>"That is not hard to imagine. You are sure to do it sooner or later. I +am not afraid of you. You know why. Cease talking. You annoy me. It is +not safe to annoy me."</p> + +<p>Some one took a cover off a lamp. The light hurt Quorn's eyes; he shut +them for a moment. When he opened them again a man was squatting beside +him, gazing at him. He was a man with a big head, crowned with a shock +of shaggy hair that seemed to have been bleached to the color of new +manila rope.</p> + +<p>He had dark eyebrows and a shaggy, dark beard and mustache that half +hid and yet exaggerated the coarseness of a big mouth, around whose +corners a sort of humor lurked. His nose was coarse and honeycombed +with pock-marks. His big, full, deep-set eyes had humor of a sort too, +but it was cruel humor; they would have been splendid eyes if they had +had more color, but they were so light—gray, blue, green perhaps—as +to look hardly human.</p> + +<p>"Why do you not go to the United States?"</p> + +<p>It was the bored voice that had pleaded insolence. Quorn lay still, +trying whether he could move his wrists and ankles, wondering whether +he could break the man's neck if he had his arms free. He felt an +impulse to kill.</p> + +<p>Quorn was a man who had almost never raised his hand in violence; +certainly he had never contemplated doing murder; he would have been +willing to bet all his money, at any time, that he never would commit +murder, and would never wish to do it. Yet he felt now he would almost +rather kill that man who gazed at him than go on living. There was +nothing to argue about, he just wanted to kill him.</p> + +<p>"Do you wish ever to see the United States again?" the man asked him, +in the same cold, incurious voice.</p> + +<p>Quorn did not trust himself even to try to speak. He was working hard +to regain possession of his senses, which recognized, in the man who +was talking to him, something vaguely suggestive of his own peculiar +influence over animals.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he had never pretended to understand that influence; and +this man's was not quite the same, it seemed reversed, although to save +his life Quorn could not have explained the difference. Black magic +was the thought that came into his mind. His head felt woozy, and he +knew that was only partly due to the blow, only partly due to the drug +he still tasted; there was still something else that he felt he could +fight and overcome.</p> + +<p>"Understand me," said the man, and he spoke English with only a trace +of accent, "you are physically at my mercy—absolutely. I can kill you +slowly or quickly, however I please, in my own time, in my own way, for +my own pleasure. Sit up. I will show you something else."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He seized Quorn's shoulders and raised him until he sat with his +back propped in the corner of a wall. His strength appeared to be +prodigious; it produced in its victim a sense of helplessness that had +nothing to do with the cords around wrists and ankles. It was like the +strength of machinery.</p> + +<p>"There is a fool here," he said, "who has wearied me."</p> + +<p>Quorn discovered it was painful to turn his head; however, he managed +it, and decided he had not been badly hurt. He was in a small +square room with whitewashed walls. The only furniture was heaps +of gunnysacks, that looked rat eaten, and a small glass lamp on an +upturned packing case. Another man sat on a heap of sacks, whom Quorn +recognized at the first glance as the individual used by the temple +Brahmins as go-between, whenever they had business with persons with +whom their caste forbade them to associate—a man in a long yellow robe +with a variation from the Brahmin caste-mark on his forehead—a sort of +bastard Brahmin, a metaphysical eunuch, authorized to touch defilement +in the name of holiness without infecting his masters.</p> + +<p>"You shall watch him die."</p> + +<p>As if he had been shot out of a catapult the other man made headlong +for the door. But the door was locked.</p> + +<p>"You would escape from Maraj? In what way are you more clever than all +those others? Come here."</p> + +<p>His panic-stricken effort having failed, the man seemed paralyzed by +fear. He turned ashen gray, trembled, unable to speak. The man who had +called himself Maraj reached out with his right hand, seized him by the +ankle, twisted it, drew him forward, changed his hold to the shoulder +and hurled him back on the heap of sacking—all with one hand and +without much noticeable effort.</p> + +<p>"I will not kill him. He shall kill himself."</p> + +<p>At those words the man found speech at last. He jabbered, stuttered, +threatened, pleaded—until his voice died to a meaningless mumble and +his jaw fell.</p> + +<p>Then Quorn spoke for the first time:</p> + +<p>"Out with the light, you idiot!"</p> + +<p>The advice came too late. The Brahmin did make a move toward the lamp, +but the other man seized his ankle and twisted it again until he +screamed and struggled like a landed fish. Maraj then put the lamp up +on a beam; he had to stand on the box to do it.</p> + +<p>"It is time to die now," said Maraj. "Which way do you prefer? +Painless, of course. They all seek painless ways, as if that made any +difference! Die! Do you hear me? Kill yourself!"</p> + +<p>He turned to Quorn: "The poor fool threatened me. He had the impudence +to order me. He said he would betray me unless I slew you out of hand. +He could do it, too; he could have betrayed me easily if I had let him. +But he hasn't much intelligence. Let us see which way he chooses."</p> + +<p>He sat down close to Quorn and waited, watching his victim, who seemed +several times as if going to speak—and as if then the uselessness of +speech occurred to him. He even seemed to try to summon dignity, but +found none.</p> + +<p>"What will you do?" Maraj asked. "You have no knife—no rope. How will +you kill yourself?"</p> + +<p>Quorn spoke again, surprised by the impersonal aloofness of his own +voice, that sounded as if it belonged to some one else.</p> + +<p>"Why not have a crack at killing <i>him</i>, you idiot!" he heard himself +say to the terrified prisoner, "I'll help you if you'll loose me some +way."</p> + +<p>Maraj chuckled. "Why not?" he suggested. "Would that not be suicide? +Try killing me!"</p> + +<p>The man found speech again. Quorn's voice seemed to have stirred lees +of manhood in him. He spoke in the native tongue cold-calmly, every +word a concentrated curse.</p> + +<p>"You offspring of all the dogs that ever lay in filth! You soul of +stinks! You carcass of—"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He rushed him suddenly—and died that instant. He who had called +himself Maraj stepped sidewise with the skill of a toreador in the +arena. No eye could have followed the speed of the silken handkerchief +that licked across the man's neck and killed him infinitely more neatly +than a hangman's rope.</p> + +<p>It left no mark on him. It severed him from life; and was out of sight +again before the knees could yield under his weight and let him begin +falling to the floor; and yet he fell as if there never had been life +in him nor any bones to keep him straight.</p> + +<p>"That is the art of Thuggee, so-called," said Maraj. "Isn't it +brilliant? In a world where so many forms of death are messy, what do +you candidly think of a so-called government that tries to stamp out +and abolish such a mystery as that? Mind you, it is a mystery. It is +more than an art.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't learn it—not in fifty years—not even though I should be +fool enough to try to teach you."</p> + +<p>He rolled the body over with his foot, then sat by Quorn again. For a +moment or two he paused as if turning over matters of importance in his +mind. Then:</p> + +<p>"Don't you think they ought to make me public executioner? It would +make me so happy. It would save them so much trouble. Often I make a +victim really kill himself, but that fool's fear was of the sort that +is not easy to control. He was not sentimental. You are. Where have you +hidden your elephant?"</p> + +<p>"He ain't mine," Quorn answered.</p> + +<p>"Liar—or else imbecile! You have no bill of sale for him; therefore +he is not yours, eh? Show me a bill of sale then for the death you +will presently die! Will it not be your death? Ownership! Where is the +elephant?"</p> + +<p>"He belongs to the Ranee. Ask her."</p> + +<p>"You mistake me, I think, for a worse fool than she is. Your Ranee's +hours are numbered. I said hours, I should almost have said minutes. +These pretty ones—young ones—they taste sweeter on the teeth of death +than carrion like that thing." He kicked at the corpse on the floor. +"Does she love life? Will she cling to it? Ah, then what a sacrifice +to death! Mn-n-n—what an offering! You love her, don't you? And that +elephant loves you? Ah! You shall kill her. Then you shall see me kill +the elephant. Then I will kill you. Perfect! Look at me."</p> + +<p>He peered into Quorn's eyes, leaning over him. If he was human he +hardly seemed so. Mania, as if it were a monstrous spirit from another +plane of consciousness, had entire possession of him—a monster to whom +death was life and cruelty was beauty.</p> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""> + <div class="caption"> + <p><i>Maraj glared at him—a monster to whom death was life and cruelty was beauty.</i></p> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<p>Not for nothing had Quorn handled elephants in all their moods; he +recognized the likeness of the thing that seized Asoka now and then. +Only this was more developed—had more intelligence. He had thought +of it, when Asoka threw his tantrums, as the spirit of one of nature's +cataclysms, weary of blind energy and seeking a sensual outlet. But +this man seemed to have the spirit of all evil in him.</p> + +<p>"Death is a devourer—hungry. One must feed death daily, if he wants to +live. Keep death fed full—and live forever! Hah! Feed life—and die +forever! But you are too silly to understand that. I understand it, +that is the point. You shall obey me!"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Quorn lay still. He was thinking elephant. How did he manage Asoka +when the fits of frenzy seized him? Let him run—offer him no +opposition—hang on and wait and pretend to be one with him, seeking +the same goal with the same wrath. Pretend to encourage him. Get him to +use his strength against some obstacle that did not matter. Get him to +exhaust himself, and at the first chance get him to believe he had done +all his havoc by request. It had worked all right; the tantrums were +fewer nowadays. Something of the same sort might work now—maybe—a +bare chance—worth trying.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" said Quorn. "What's all the yawp about? Do you kid yourself +you're tough because you kill a few poor suckers? Yah! You don't know +what tough is! You should see 'em where I come from."</p> + +<p>"You mistake me," said Maraj. "I have been where you come from. +Toughness has nothing to do with it. The tough ones die the easiest. +They love life and they dread death, though they think they don't. They +dread passion; therefore they are its slaves. I love passion; therefore +it is my slave, even as a woman who is properly loved is the slave of a +man."</p> + +<p>"Aw, hell! That's talk. I've heard 'em on a soapbox handing out a +better line o' yawp than that—bolshevists and such like. Show me. +Talk don't mean nothing. I can't teach a guy to drive an automobile by +singing songs to him. I got to show him. Show me. I won't believe a +word of it until you show me."</p> + +<p>All the East asserts that there is no such thing as luck, yet Quorn had +stumbled on something that the men of science labored for a century to +find—and doubted then. To save his soul he could not have analyzed +it or have put it into plain words. What he knew, by the change in +the maniac's eyes, was that he had touched off something that might +presently give him the upper hand. He had gained time. He had flattered +cunning. Cunning proposed to magnify itself before it had its climax.</p> + +<p>"Why not show you? Knowledge increases suffering. Suffering is cruel. +Cruelty is the delicious essence of all nature. It is essence that I +seek. I find it daily. Do you understand me? Essence."</p> + +<p>"Hell," Quorn answered, "any fool could understand that. Essence? Huh!"</p> + +<p>"You are ignorant, but I will teach you. Ignorant men don't suffer +much, not even in this world, under torture—although I know tortures +that are exquisite, and I will show you several. Suffering increases as +the square of knowledge. Do you know what that means? The suffering of +this world is as nothing to the infinite agony provided in the next. +Those who suffer genuinely here take with them an increased ability +to suffer. They add to the hell—to the hell—to the hell! Do you +understand me? Spiritual, mental, infinite, eternal hell! Ah-h-h! So I +shall show you, I will teach you. You shall not go forth in ignorance. +You shall be a delicious morsel for the spiritual fiends of torment. +What does this life matter when you have eternity in which to revel in +the blistering, nervous dissonance of death?"</p> + +<p>"It don't matter a damn—not a damn," Quorn answered. "That's an easy +one."</p> + +<p>"Where is your elephant?"</p> + +<p>"I can find him for you any time. Say, all you've said is talk so +far—lower grade stuff. You've got me interested, but you haven't +proved a thing. I saw you kill that sucker, but, hell—that weren't +much; I could have killed him myself with half a brick. You show me +something A-1—genuine magic. I'll name the stunt—you do it. If you +win, I join your gang. How'd that be?"</p> + +<p>"You will be my disciple? You will yield your soul to me? You will try +to learn what I shall teach? Hee-ee! That would be amusing. You will go +mad, but never mind. What do you wish me to do?"</p> + +<p>"I'll set you an easy test. Put one over on them temple Brahmins. Put +it over on 'em good, mind. Trick 'em—trap 'em—show 'em up—bring +shame on 'em—reduce 'em to a common joke. Then set yourself in +place of 'em—me under you. I'm game if you are. The folks say I'm +Gunga <i>sahib</i> come to life; that ought to make it easy if you have +imagination. Maybe you haven't—you haven't showed me any yet. How +about it?"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There was a long pause. Maniac imagination thrilled itself with +ecstasies of vision—Brahminism going the way of all things mortal, +only in an agony more awful than any sane man could invent. Watching +the maniac eyes, Quorn played his trump:</p> + +<p>"'Fore I'd reckon you worth learning from, I'd have to see you out +from under them temple Brahmins' influence. Hell, they've been giving +you orders. They've been claiming they protect you. Yah! I'm not the +thousandth o' what you are, yet I wouldn't let that gang claim they was +protecting me. I'd show 'em different. You show 'em where they get off, +and I'll join you, elephant and all."</p> + +<p>Maraj looked keenly at him. Quorn's face was as innocent as any +actor's. The blind spot that is in the brain of every maniac, however +supernormal his intelligence may be, permitted vanity to smother +cunning.</p> + +<p>"You'd better let me go and get my elephant," said Quorn. "Come with me +if you like," he added, noticing a sudden constriction of the irises of +the madman's eyes. "Then you make all the plans, remember. This ain't +my problem, it's yours. I'm yours if you work it out right. Anything +you say, I'll do, barring that I don't have to kill nobody until the +temple Brahmins quit, and fire a lee gun, and haul their flag down. Get +me? After that I'll kill as many as you say."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," Maraj leaned over him again. "Do your wrists hurt? Does the +cord cut your ankles?"</p> + +<p>If the East is right and there is no such thing as luck, perhaps luck +is a form of genius. Again Quorn stumbled on the key to freedom, though +he paid a high price.</p> + +<p>"Yeah, it hurts fine. I like it," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Hee-ee! You do? You like it? Try this. Is it exquisite now?"</p> + +<p>He knew where to touch the nerves that carry torture to the brain. +Quorn writhed, but the lamp threw shadow on him. Maraj had rolled him +over on his face. Quorn's quivering and grunting might be masochistic +ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"You will do, you will do for a pupil," said Maraj. He cut the cords; +Quorn almost sobbed with the relief. "That is not a bad beginning. I +can teach you. You shall learn that pain is the only pleasure. Go now. +Go and find your elephant."</p> + +<p>"Are you coming with me?" Quorn asked.</p> + +<p>Sudden fury seized the maniac. "You witless idiot!" he shouted. "Who +are you to dare to question me, your master? Do you think I need to +watch a fool like you? Can you escape me? Try it! Go before I—"</p> + +<p>He made a gesture as if to produce the handkerchief with which he could +kill with such consummate art. Quorn staggered to the door, in torture +from his rope-raw ankles. It was locked. His wit deserted him; he could +not imagine what to do. He glanced at the glass lamp on the beam. With +his ankles in that shape could he jump up from the box and smash the +lamp, and take a chance in darkness? He decided he would try.</p> + +<p>He had gathered his strength for the spring when he heard voices. +Something on the outside struck the door. He heard the hinges give. +He saw Maraj spring, swinging for a moment like a monkey on the +beam—spring like a monkey again and break an opening, feet first, +through the thatched roof. Blake burst in then—Blake and half a dozen +servants. It was like a dream.</p> + +<p>"Here you are, eh? Hurt much? Had a hard time finding you. Hello—who's +dead? Well, I'll be damned—another murder, eh? Oh, look out +there—catch Quorn, or he'll tumble. Lay him on that sacking."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE BABU AND THE BRAHMIN.</h3> + + +<p>Rats are credited with instinct that enables them to leave a ship +some time before it sinks. Bamjee had perhaps evolved beyond that +animal characteristic without losing the desire to practice it. He +was as fearful and as fearless as a rat—as full of cunning and +as energetic—as suspicious and as keen on testing information for +himself. What he lacked in actual intuition was compensated by peculiar +alertness.</p> + +<p>He was not at all afraid of venturing so near to a trap, or even into +one, that a sneeze or a sigh would have snapped the spring. But he was +difficult to catch. And being an incredulous, irreverent, observant rat +he understood the ways of temple Brahmins—which is more than quite +a number of the Brahmins do, since, like the rest of us, they are, +generally speaking, lazy and accept as truth much untruth as their +seniors believe it wise to tell them.</p> + +<p>"My God!" said Bamjee to himself, when he had shed the palace finery +and once more held his silken pants-leg as he flitted through the +palace shrubbery in quest of secret foothold on the palace wall. "My +God! If she should order that cursed auditor to tell the truth about +me—Krishna! Women in authority are worse than men. They are more +cunning. They are willing to let themselves be cheated, so as to have +you by the short hair. And they hang on—dammit! Dammit! Dammit! On the +other hand, should she lose her throne, this <i>babu's</i> job is gone. The +auditor would see to that; I should have paid that scoundrel a better +percentage—maybe—maybe—but beggars on horseback ride you down. To +hell with them. And if she wins this battle with the Brahmins she will +probably dismiss me anyhow and try to find an honest man for my job. +There aren't any. She will ruin herself learning that the honest men +are too big fools to be trusted. But that won't help poor Bamjee. This +<i>babu</i> must climb on fence, part hair in middle for balancing purposes +and be ready to jump kerplunk into the arms of either side with +nuisance value well established."</p> + +<p>For a beginning he climbed the palace wall in total darkness, leaving +his pants inside the palace grounds. He did not propose to go home yet, +partly from fear that his movements might be traced. It might not +matter if they were traced, but—</p> + +<p>"If I should choose to qualify the truth a little, it might be awkward +if some liar knew where I actually went. I can do my own lying, thank +you. And it costs less."</p> + +<p>So he found a small storekeeper who owed him money and who felt +flattered by being aroused from bed by such an important personage. To +him he told a long yarn about having been stripped by thieves—</p> + +<p>"And if it were known that such bad thieves lurk in your neighborhood, +where there is only your shop and a few stables, you might find +yourself in bad with the police, who would come and search you—and you +know what that means! So you had better say nothing about it."</p> + +<p>He bought several yards of cotton cloth and dressed himself native +style. He also bought a cotton turban, wrapping the silk one carefully +around his body underneath his shirt, and into that he tucked his +remaining money.</p> + +<p>"Now perhaps I can venture homeward without being robbed," he remarked +to the storekeeper; and having started homeward because he was sure the +storekeeper would watch him out of sight, he made a circuit and went +hurrying in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>His goal now was the Pul-ke-Nichi—the long, narrow thoroughfare on the +far side of the city, that dipped down between two mounds, on which the +temples of Siva and Kali stood, connected by an ancient bridge. He had +no fear of not finding Brahmins awake.</p> + +<p>"Two things would wake them anyhow," he told himself, "the chink of +money; and the least little whisper of smelly, secret news—they love +it."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He was tired to the bone, but he solved that problem. To the pious +horror of the temple Brahmins the Ranee had recently installed a modern +hospital in that part of town in charge of a young Sikh doctor, who +was nothing if not keen on getting cases. There was a motor cycle +ambulance, and a night bell.</p> + +<p>Bamjee rang the bell, gave a false name and told circumstantial details +of an accident. He offered to show the way to where the victim was, and +the doctor decided to drive the ambulance himself; his presence on the +scene, instead of the ignorant ambulance man, might save the victim's +life.</p> + +<p>So Bamjee lay in comfort in the ambulance while the doctor drove +at full tilt through the city, missing the legs of sleeping men by +inches, clearing the way with his horn and breaking all the rules of +even reckless driving with a confidence in destiny and disregard for +risk that would never occur to any one except a Sikh intent on winning +laurels for himself.</p> + +<p>And in the dark trough of the Pul-ke-Nichi, where the bridge cast +pitch-black shadows and there were too many sleeping nondescripts for +even a Sikh to take that chance of killing some one, Bamjee stepped out +of the ambulance to find the supposititious victim—</p> + +<p>"Compound fracture of both thigh bones, doctor, and the ribs of both +sides—one arm broken also, and perhaps internal injury—a very +interesting case."</p> + +<p>That was the last the doctor saw of him. He slid into a shadow and +followed it beside the ponderous wall of Siva's temple.</p> + +<p>There he was challenged. Two men in yellow robes ran out and blocked +his way. They scurrilously mocked his glib confession of sinfulness and +a desire to meditate on the omnipresence of death in life and life in +death. They called him a casteless miscreant, who might go and mock his +lady mother on a dung hill. So Bamjee was obliged to change his method.</p> + +<p>"Business," he whispered, "with the high priest! You are undoubtedly +'twice born,' both of you, to make you twice as stupid as you look, +but you had better tell the high priest Bamjee is here. Yes, Bamjee! +Yes, Bamjee—the man who caused your temple to be defiled with +Johnson's Jubilee Germ Exterminator! Bamjee with a message for the high +priest—sounds important, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>There was whispered consultation. One man took the message and the +other stayed. There followed prickly silence for a space of fifteen +minutes, broken into irregular intervals by the impatient honking of +the Sikh doctor's horn, until the messenger returned.</p> + +<p>Bamjee was to be admitted—not into the temple, but into the cell +across the courtyard in which virtually unclean visitors were sometimes +as an act of mercy, blessed through a hole in a wall of the temple +basement. So he was soused with water that had been treated by +incantation, hustled across the courtyard along a row of flagstones +that were also immunized against the tread of ritually unclean feet, +and thrust into a bare stone chamber. Bamjee shuddered as the door +slammed shut behind him and he heard the bolt slide home.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" he said. "What a man won't risk to save his neck!"</p> + +<p>On three or four walls little lamps were burning, leaving the door in +shadow. In the wall that faced the door there was a round hole, showing +that the masonry was ten feet thick; the hole was trumpet-shaped, its +small end inward; Bamjee did not dare to examine that very closely +until he had blown out two of the three lamps and adjusted the wick of +the third.</p> + +<p>"But they will hardly dare to kill me," he reflected. "Nobody knows I +was not seen to enter here. Phuh—death is an unpleasant topic—let me +think of something else."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He examined the stone chamber. There was no window. He could hear +nothing except his own blood surging in his veins. He crept close to +the wall and peered very cautiously into the trumpet-shaped hole, but +could see nothing; it appeared to be closed at the far end. However, +presently he heard a shutter slide in iron grooves at the end of the +hole in the wall. A voice spoke angrily, complaining that the lamps +were not properly lit in the chamber. Another voice offered to send an +attendant to light them.</p> + +<p>"No, but discover whose fault it is. Impose a heavy penance. Go now. +Close the door."</p> + +<p>"Is that the most holy and reverend twice-born confidant of gods and +treasurer of wisdom who presides over all the Brahmins of this temple +to be an example to men and a blessing to the world?" asked Bamjee. +"Humbly then I kiss feet. Humbly I ask blessing."</p> + +<p>Through the hole came the mumbled perfunctory formula. Then:</p> + +<p>"Who are you and what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"All-wise, I am Bamjee bearing bad news."</p> + +<p>"Because, for the sake of your pocket, you defiled this temple, you are +doomed for a thousand lives to be a blind worm in the belly of a dog!"</p> + +<p>"I know it! I know it! I sinned and the sin is on my head. (<i>Dog of a +Brahmin! Humble am I? You shall pay for it!</i>) But may I not commence to +purge my sin? (<i>Purge your own, you old tyrant!</i>) This <i>babu</i> has had +sudden change of heart. Some god has probably observed what wrong this +<i>babu</i> did (<i>You old devil, I'd like to drown you in a tub of sewage!</i>) +and stirred an impulse to do better and to make amends. Oh, Most +Wise—<i>Muddle-head</i>—if this <i>babu</i> has wrought evil, you yourself will +do worse evil unless you give him opportunity to make compensation for +his ill deeds! Am contrite! Am able to do valuable service. Am, above +all, ab-so-lutely bent on telling truth and nothing but truth. Pity me +and listen!"</p> + +<p>"You shall be heard."</p> + +<p>The shutter squealed back into place along its iron grooves and there +was silence again so almost absolute that Bamjee knew he would go mad +if it should last long. He could hear the noises in his head that are +so quiet and so intimate that we are unconscious of them until real +silence stimulates hearing and imagination invents mysterious reasons +for them. Silence is no sedative. It arouses self-analysis. But in +Bamjee it also aroused a saving sense of humor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, am rogue undoubtedly. Am that sort of person. But it takes +<i>all</i> sorts of persons to make a universe, and I did not create +myself—unfortunately. Had I done so this poor <i>babu</i> would be +billionaire—most estimable personage, with lickspittles by the +dozen to say to him, 'Yes, <i>sahib</i>' and 'marvellous' and 'such +high-mindedness'! Instead of which, even these rascally Brahmins dare +to call me a low-minded nasty crook! No, this <i>babu</i> did not build the +universe. Not guilty! And by Krishna, who is a legend, and by Ingersoll +and Bradlaugh, who lifted themselves by the seat of the pants in order +to prove there are no such things as miracles, these noises in my head +will give me religion unless I watch out! Ah!"</p> + +<p>Somebody was coming. The door bolt rattled. Bamjee was himself again, +and by the time the door opened he looked like an idol made of hardened +india-rubber, squatting with his back against the wall.</p> + +<p>"Such hospitality! Such courtesy!" he exclaimed. "You have a mat for +yourself, I see. Bring two mats. This stone floor is not salubrious to +sit on."</p> + +<p>The partly opened door slammed shut again.</p> + +<p>"High priest is one thing," Bamjee remarked to himself. "High priest's +deputy assistant walking alibi is camel of a different smell. Noose +that would neatly fit neck of high priest would not make finger-ring +for expert alibi. Must use ax—verbally that is—plus irritant. An +irritant deputy assistant alibi is good—as ginger under horse's +tail—will kick his master into difficulties. Now then—"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The bolt rattled again. A temple servant entered, threw a mat on the +floor and walked out. Bamjee spread the mat and sat on it, resuming his +look of molded impassivity.</p> + +<p>A Brahmin entered, well-fed, rather athletic-looking, haughty, with the +self-esteem derived from a monopoly of wisdom, carrying his sacred mat +under his arm. He spread the mat as far away from Bamjee as he could +and sat down, muttering incantations calculated to preserve him from +contamination.</p> + +<p>"I kiss feet," Bamjee murmured with almost as much perfunctory +insolence as the Brahmin conveyed with his answering, equally formal, +blessing.</p> + +<p>"You are a spy," said the Brahmin.</p> + +<p>"I am," said Bamjee. That admission rather took the Brahmin's breath +away. He blinked perceptibly. There was a long pause. Presently: "You +have the impudence to try to spy on us?"</p> + +<p>"Have? No. Had? Yes. No further need. Have found out what is necessary. +Business of bargain now."</p> + +<p>"Miscreant! Who would bargain with you?"</p> + +<p>"Any sort of half-wise, sanctimonious sweeper of crumbs of sanctity who +did not want to pass up any wise bets."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what happens to fools who are disrespectful to the +Brahmins?"</p> + +<p>"I know what happens to Brahmins who shut their eyes to opportunity. +They are just like other people—only more so. Esteeming themselves +higher they fall harder and it hurts worse. This <i>babu</i> is versed +in several theologies, including atheism and relativity—perfectly +familiar with theory that all is illusion and nothing provable. Am +possibly a hypothetical assemblage of imaginary atoms, saying nothing +to nobody in a vacuum abhorred by nonexistent nature. Nevertheless, +you kid yourself you are somebody very important. Self, am pragmatist +with positivistic tendencies that tell me your fall from your high +place would hurt your imaginary feelings more than my fall from my low +place could hurt mine. So you had better get down off that high place. +It is much more comfortable down here."</p> + +<p>The Brahmin scowled. Special sanctity can endure all inflictions except +ridicule.</p> + +<p>"Concerning what do you wish to drive a bargain?"</p> + +<p>And now Bamjee showed genius. He knew he had pitted himself against +a system—a morass of metaphysical influence that could swamp any +individual as surely as stone age swamps yielded and smothered the +mastodons' strength. He who would prance upon swamps requires agility +and wit. Metaphysics must be met with metaphysics; bludgeons are no use +whatever.</p> + +<p>"Lost in mazes of speculative philosophy, this <i>babu</i> seeks something +to which to cling—something that somebody else thinks is solid, +even if it isn't. If we are all kidding ourselves, why not do it in +easiest possible way. You may be right. Your teachings may be right. +If they are wrong, it doesn't matter, and if they are right then the +sooner this <i>babu</i> accepts them the better, not only for me but for +you also. If it is true that you have power to bless and curse, I buy +blessing! With money? No. Money is imaginary and evasive symbol of +gross materialism—much too difficult to get—and of no importance to +one of your sanctity. This <i>babu's</i> services, however, are for sale, +also without money payment. In other words, with swap. My definite and +dangerous deeds in this world, against your hypothetical assistance in +the next!</p> + +<p>"Am, like English Prime Minister Balfour, an honest doubter, doubting +own agnosticism and afraid of consequences—if any. Shamelessly, +therefore, will sell to you, in this world, now, if there is such a +thing as now, all secrets of Her Highness, the Ranee, insofar as they +are known to this <i>babu</i>, together with this <i>babu's</i> allegiance—in +exchange for forgiveness of past offenses and recognition as eligible +candidate for preferment in after life, if, as, and when. Something for +nothing—maybe. But your nothing may be something after all. If so, I +want it."</p> + +<p>"You speak like a man possessed by devils."</p> + +<p>"Many devils. Mad ones. Some so devilish that if you refuse to accept +my repentance and to put me on favored waiting list of applicants for +spiritual bliss, I will certainly be much more devilish and instead of +working against the Ranee, I will work against you. Instead of telling +you what I know about her, I will tell her what I know about you. In +other words, if I can save my soul, I will; but if I am to be damned, +there shall be no more damnable enemy of sanctity, living or dead, than +myself. So now you know. Forgive me, bless me and use my services—or +look out!"</p> + +<p>"Blessedness can make no bargains."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Too bad. Blessedness will wish it were cussedness before I have +finished, in that case. I am not afraid of you in this world. It is the +next I am thinking about. You can, of course, detain me if you wish, +and I know there are dark dungeons somewhere, into which inconvenient +enemies of Brahmins vanish. Oh, yes, indeed. I even know where those +dungeons are. And I know the names of individuals who have vanished +into them. But I did not come here alone, and if I fail to reappear +within a certain time there will be reprisals."</p> + +<p>"Liar! You came in an ambulance. You gave a false name to the doctor +who brought you. You are a servant of the Ranee and an accomplice of +that impostor Quorn, who calls himself the Gunga <i>sahib</i>. Quorn—even +at this minute—is meeting the fate he deserves. You? For you, what +evil destiny is bad enough?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, no use talking to you. Let me go," said Bamjee, covering his +agony of fear under a very well-acted cloak of indifference. Cold sweat +was bursting out of every pore in his body and he felt sick at the +stomach, but he looked belligerently insolent.</p> + +<p>The Brahmin rose, rolled up his mat and made a signal on the teak door, +rapping with his heavy finger-ring. The door opened and the Brahmin +stood back to let Bamjee precede him.</p> + +<p>"To your doom!" he remarked in a strange, startling voice. "Never enter +this temple again!"</p> + +<p>"Sanctity first!" said Bamjee with a mocking bow of abject reverence. +He waited. The Brahmin waited. At last the Brahmin shrugged his +shoulders, began murmuring a <i>mantram</i> nasally, like an angry swarm of +hornets, and led the way out.</p> + +<p>His signal, it appeared, was misinterpreted. A long stick, swung with +strong hands by a man who hid beside the wall on tiptoe, came down +like a pole-ax on his shaved crown. It broke the stick. It cracked his +skull. A second stick, from the opposite side of the door, descended on +him before the blood had time to burst through the broken skin or his +knees had time to give beneath him. Then he fell like a steer and his +blood went pouring on the paving-stones.</p> + +<p>The apparition—the white, whirling specter that seized half the broken +stick, leaped over the body and dived into the darkest courtyard +shadow—was Bamjee. One of the men beside the door gave chase—until a +shadow leaped to life and the point of Bamjee's broken stick so nearly +disemboweled him that he rolled in silent agony, his knees on his +chest. Somebody shouted to the men on guard to close the outer gate. +There was a clash of chains, the hinges squealed and the gate shut with +a clang in Bamjee's face. But it was pitch-dark by the gate. None saw +him.</p> + +<p>"Seize him!" a voice shouted.</p> + +<p>"Too late—too late!" came the answer. "He escaped us."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT.</h3> + + +<p>One reason why Brazenose Blake had been picked for the post of British +Resident in Nerada was his genius for official inertia and strictly +unofficial action. He could be incredibly indiscreet and get away with +it.</p> + +<p>A more meticulous observer of precedent and the proprieties would have +sent for the police. Blake searched the dead Brahmin's clothing, asked +Quorn all the questions he could think of, left the Brahmin's body +lying in the hut and took Quorn to the Residency, where, the moment he +arrived, he sent a galloper in search of Rana Raj Singh. Then he gave +Quorn a carefully measured dose of whisky, personally rendered first +aid to the tortured wrists and ankles, bit the end from an expensive +cigar, sat down and waited, with his feet on the veranda rail.</p> + +<p>"No use getting excited," he said. "You've twenty minutes, Quorn, to +lie still and remember all that happened. When Rana Raj Singh comes, +you can tell the whole story to both of us at the same time. Save +breath and exertion."</p> + +<p>So Quorn fell asleep, which was exactly what Blake intended, and when +Rana Raj Singh came thundering down the lane at last—only a sound in +the night—black suit, black boots, black beard, on a black horse—and +drew rein like a landslide at the front door, Quorn had recovered to +a point where he could tell his story almost as it happened. But his +account of Maraj was understated; he was afraid that if he told the +whole truth, and described the maniac whose picture had been burned +into his brain, neither Blake nor Rana Raj Singh would believe a word +of it.</p> + +<p>"That's all," he said at last. "The next best thing is for me to get +back to Asoka before he busts loose and comes looking for me. He's +liable to look good. He knows he's only got to shove down a wall to see +what's t'other side."</p> + +<p>But Blake had not finished yet. "I found this," he said, "on the dead +man's body." He unfolded a slip of yellowish paper and passed it to +Rana Raj Singh. "Will you read it to us? Do you mind translating it?"</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh carried the writing to the lantern that hung from a hook +on the porch and studied it, stroking his beard, looking almost like +a disembodied phantom because the unusual black suit that he had put +on shaded imperceptibly into the darkness, offering almost no outline. +Then he strode back.</p> + +<p>"Temple jargon," he remarked. "A sort of slang in shorthand that the +Brahmins use for confidential communications. It appears to me to mean: +'M'—that may stand for Maraj—'bungled elephant affair. Faquir killed +uselessly, since no rioting occurred and Quorn escaped on elephant. +Find M and tell him he must finish Q'—that is Quorn, I suppose—'or +coöperation must cease.' I suppose it means they intend to denounce him +unless he kills Quorn. It might mean that. I can't think of anything +else it could mean."</p> + +<p>"Cinch," said Quorn abruptly. "You keep that, sir, and let's pretend I +have it. Them Brahmins'll try all the harder to get me, and we'll trap +'em that much easier."</p> + +<p>He watched Blake fold the piece of paper in his wallet. Then he turned +to Rana Raj Singh: "Maraj ain't far off. He's as mad as Nebuchadnezzar +the king was in them Bible times. But maybe they didn't teach you about +Nebuchadnezzar, sir. Anyhow, he's mad, and he's got it all set in his +mind to make a devil out o' me. So if you watch me you'll get him +easy. But that won't get them Brahmins all compromised up with him the +way we want. My thought is, sir, that madmen maybe are like any other +kind o' mad critter—one idee at a time but covered awful cunning, so +it maybe looks like just plain random cussedness, whereas it isn't. Get +me?</p> + +<p>"This guy's got it in his head to prove himself superior to Brahmins +on all points. He's all set to take a fall out o' that gang that run +Siva's temple. They've used him for a heap o' dirty work and me, +I heard that dead guy threaten him. They mean to double cross him +whenever it suits 'em, and Maraj, he knows it. What's more, he figures +two can play that game. So the Brahmins have it in for him and me; he +has it in for me and the Brahmins. The Brahmins want to get me first +and then him. He wants to get the Brahmins first and then have a good +time turning me so crazy that even Satan 'u'd feel jealous. 'Tain't +worse than a crossword puzzle. We ought to be able to work it out."</p> + +<p>"The thing to do," said Rana Raj Singh, "is to follow you and kill him +the first moment he shows himself."</p> + +<p>"You'll pardon me, sir, if I talk back?"</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh nodded. Blake bit another cigar, scowling. All three +listened for a moment to a noise outside; it was difficult to guess +where it came from, but it might have been close to the compound wall, +a hundred yards away.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"If that is Maraj," said Rana Raj Singh, "I expect we have him. Ten +of my men followed me. They are rather good at approaching a place +silently."</p> + +<p>"'Twould be a sin to kill that sucker and let them temple Brahmins +get off free," said Quorn. "I'm mean about 'em. Maybe it ain't good +manners, sir, to mention your young lady, but she's my employer. I +think such a hell of a lot of her I'd take a long chance for her sake +and I've no sort o' use for swine that 'u'd try to make her kill a +decent elephant. I'd go the limit—and there ain't no limit—just to +down her enemies and leave her sitting pretty. I know her as good as +anybody does. She'd say, 'Take all chances, Mr. Quorn, and let's win +this! Don't let's have another drawn game?' That's what she'd say. +Can't I get you, sir, to see it that way?"</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh's white teeth showed in a slowly widening smile.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you have my promise, Mr. Quorn. You may command me. I +obey!"</p> + +<p>Before Quorn could think of an answer to that a peculiar whistle—high +C, B, C sharp—thrilled out of the darkness not far off. Then a horse +tripped on a stone and stumbled. Rana Raj Singh answered the whistle, +vaulted the veranda rail, leaped on to his black horse and was gone +like a galloping ghost.</p> + +<p>Suddenly: "What's that, sir?" Quorn asked in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"What?" demanded Blake. "What d'ye mean? Where?"</p> + +<p>Any man's hair would have stood on end, and his blood run cold. The end +of the veranda was some fifteen feet away, screened by woven wire and +hung with creepers. Lamp-light, streaming past the edge of a carelessly +drawn blind, made a fan-shaped, milky opalescence in which a tangle of +wire and creepers were clearly visible.</p> + +<p>Something as irresistible as destiny was tearing that tangle +apart—opening it, as curtains are opened down the center. There was +hardly any noise. Then, in the midst of the opening, full in the +lamp-light, grinned a face—a human face, inhuman as a nightmare.</p> + +<p>"God!" cried Blake. "Who is it?"</p> + +<p>He mastered himself. He had no weapon. He forced himself up from his +chair, and the face vanished. Blake strode toward where it had been, +and stood there staring at the broken strands of wire and of creeper +that would have been difficult to cut through even with an ax.</p> + +<p>Quorn watched him—until a hand came through the veranda railing and +seized Quorn's leg in a grip that checked the flow of blood. It checked +speech, paralyzing like the cold-iron grip of nameless fear.</p> + +<p>Then the face of Maraj came up out of the dark—and the lips of Maraj +smiled upward—and the eyes of him gleamed at Quorn. They were like +an animal's and Quorn knew they were watching Blake alertly even +though they stared so straight into his own eyes. Then the lips moved +and a voice that was hardly a voice at all, and yet that carried as +distinctly as sounds carry in dreams, said:</p> + +<p>"Get your elephant and meet me—"</p> + +<p>There was no time for him to finish. Blake was turning, starting back +toward his chair. Horses were coming—clattering, cantering, scattering +stones, making as much noise as Rajputs always do when they are done +with ghostly silence. Quorn felt the blood flow again as the grip +ceased from his leg.</p> + +<p>"Thought we had him," said Rana Raj Singh, vaulting from the saddle and +throwing his reins to a man who galloped up from behind him. "One of my +men saw him, another heard him, but he gave us all the slip."</p> + +<p>"He was here not a minute ago—there—at the end of the veranda," Blake +said. "I distinctly saw him."</p> + +<p>"Hell, I felt him!" said Quorn. "Look at this." He held his leg toward +the light and drew his trousers up to show the marks where the maniac's +hand had gripped. "He ain't far off."</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh whistled all his men and there began a hunt amid the +shrubbery that bade fair to lay Blake's garden waste. Blake ran to the +other end of the veranda and slammed a window shut, then ran into the +house and locked it on the inside. As he came out he slammed the door +and turned the key.</p> + +<p>"Fine howdy-do if she should bolt into the house!" he remarked. "Why +haven't I a dog? Goldarn it! Never again will I live without a decent +dog. Why, even a terrier would—"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He vaulted the veranda rail and vanished into the darkness to help Rana +Raj Singh and his companions search the shrubbery. Quorn heard the +click of the Colt revolver that Blake had brought with him out of the +house.</p> + +<p>"Too bad if they get him yet," he muttered. "We've a first rate +chance, if we use it right, to teach them Brahmins a lesson they won't +forget—not in <i>her</i> time."</p> + +<p>He sat considering the Ranee and his duty to her, wondering whether +it was possible, in these democratic days, to be the benevolently +autocratic ruler that she aspired to be. He knew there are more +than a hundred different kinds of government in India, ranging from +a theocratic despotism to the fringes of fascism and socialistic +experiment.</p> + +<p>"Tyrannies, all of 'em," he muttered. "Maybe she can do it." He spoke +louder than he realized—and suddenly he almost leaped out of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Of course I can!" a voice said quietly behind him.</p> + +<p>It was the Ranee herself, in riding-breeches. He jumped to his feet, +but it hurt his ankles, so he leaned against the railing.</p> + +<p>"No, you are not dreaming, Mr. Quorn. You talk aloud so often to your +elephant that you think aloud when you are alone. It is dangerous. And +those others all talk at the top of their voices, which is foolish; but +people are ruled by being foolish, not by any wisdom in their rulers. +Have you heard of Haroun-al-Raschid—and Peter the Great—and Amir +Abdurrahman? Each of them was his own secret service. I follow in +their footsteps, in some respects.</p> + +<p>"Do please be seated, Mr. Quorn. I came when I learned that Rana Raj +Singh had been sent for, and I have been listening. Maraj was within +three feet of me—he even touched me without knowing it. Mr. Blake +looked straight at me through the hole that Maraj made in the trellis. +How blind men are unless they know what they are looking for! I heard +what you said. Have you anything to tell me that you haven't told those +others?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss! You go home! This ain't no place or time o' night for +pretty ladies with a throne to lose! Who came with you?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody."</p> + +<p>"No guards nor nothing? I'll be sugared! The President o' the United +States can't move around without he's watched, and he's supposed to +live in a safe country. Prince Rana Raj Singh—what will he say?"</p> + +<p>"We will soon know," she answered. "I hear him coming."</p> + +<p>Blake came up the steps to the veranda. Rana Raj Singh caught sight +of the Ranee in the lamp-light and vaulted out of the saddle over the +veranda rail. His gesture as he stood before her was inimitable, +blended of an Old World courtesy, a lover's privilege, anger, +self-control, a sense of outraged dignity, and hopelessness of ever +teaching her the elements of common sense. But he was too steeped in +dignity to reproach her in Quorn's presence.</p> + +<p>Blake had less compunction. "You?" he said. "At this hour? Have you +come to claim protection? No? What do you suppose my government will +think of a queen of your age who runs such personal risks in darkness? +Don't you realize your enemies will represent—"</p> + +<p>Her musical answering laugh disarmed him. "I came for sport!" she said. +"Politicians are fogeys, but is there any need to lecture Mr. Blake on +sportsmanship? Rana Raj Singh is another story. Listen!" She laid her +right hand on the Rajput's. He seized it and the slumbering fire in his +dark eyes leaped into passion, but he subdued that.</p> + +<p>"When your ancestors in Rajasthan went forth to war," she said, "who +held the castle? Women! When your ancestors were slain in battle and +the enemy laid siege, who defended the castle? Wives and sweethearts! +If a woman had not held your castle against the Mahratta hordes, she +ever in the front rank of the fighting, until her son was born and the +Mahratta army gave up the siege in weariness—would you be alive to +frown at me to-day? You talk to me, and rightly and proudly you talk +to me, of the ancient deeds of Rajput men and women. Would you have +me something less than they were? This little war we wage against the +Brahmins of Narada—is it something that should make a coward of me? +You—on whom I count to help me make my throne a power and my people +free!"</p> + +<p>He bowed dramatically, with a hint of half-grudging good humor. Not +yet officially recognized as even her future consort, he was hardly in +any position to restrain her. Besides, her logic was not answerable. +Logic is exasperating stuff, which women never use unless they wish to +defend their illogical intuition. Rana Raj Singh stiffened himself, a +grim determination to stand by and face whatever consequences she might +bring down on himself and herself simply bristling from him.</p> + +<p>"Danger and death are nothing. It is how we die and how we meet danger +that counts," he remarked.</p> + +<p>"This is neutral territory. Let us talk things over amicably and make a +good plan," said the Ranee.</p> + +<p>"Neutral be damned!" Blake muttered. He had his eye on a shadowy +perpendicular pen-stroke in the darkness—nothing more important than +the pole on which, by day, the British flag was raised. He wondered +how many treaties and laws were being broken, using his neutral veranda +for a jumping-off place in a raid on Brahmins.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"After all," said the Ranee, "it is me they are after. Quorn and Asoka +are pawns they think they have to take before they catch the queen. I +wish I knew where Bamjee is. I might send Bamjee to the temple with +misinformation that should cause those Brahmins to trap themselves. +Bamjee is crooked and unreliable, but I can depend on him to do the +wrong thing at the right minute. If you know what somebody will do, +then you know yourself what to do. But where is Bamjee? No, he didn't +go home. I often have Bamjee watched; it pays. But he didn't go out +through the palace gate, so the watcher hunted for him and found his +trousers lying near a place where an active man could climb the wall. +Bamjee is up to mischief."</p> + +<p>"So is Asoka, miss, I'll bet you!" Quorn retorted. "I hid him good, +but he won't stay hid long. He has hay enough, but he'll miss me and +he'll miss his warm cakes. Folks with long noses like his have a way o' +getting so darned inquisitive that rope won't hold 'em. And the rope +weren't none too up-to-date. Rats had et some of it. How will I get to +him? I can't walk."</p> + +<p>"Do you think Maraj would follow if you should go on horseback?" the +Ranee asked. "He heard him order you to get your elephant and meet him. +Did he tell you where to meet him?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss, he was interrupted."</p> + +<p>"He is very likely listening to us now," said Blake, leaning out over +the veranda rail to peer into the night.</p> + +<p>"No," said Rana Raj Singh. "We have searched every bush and shadow. He +escaped, but my men are watching. Not a rat could get past them. He may +be lurking outside their circle, but he is not inside it."</p> + +<p>"Very well then. Somebody give Mr. Quorn a horse," the Ranee ordered. +"Let it be a tame horse, one that he can sit on even if he can't ride. +And let somebody give him a big white turban and voluminous white +clothing, so as to make him unrecognizable. Be sure you shorten his +stirrup leathers—otherwise a child would see through the disguise. +Let Mr. Quorn go to his elephant and two or three men follow him on +horseback at a distance, taking care not to appear to follow him. If +they are half wide-awake, they may capture Maraj. If the Brahmins are +watching Quorn, some Brahmins might be caught, too. If we had the luck +to catch Maraj alive, and two or three Brahmins as well, and lock them +into one room—and listen—"</p> + +<p>"Don't trust luck. Luck is always with your enemy," said Blake. "Two or +three men—could they take that many prisoners? It might take more than +three of them to hold Maraj, even supposing they could catch him and +tie him."</p> + +<p>"I will follow Quorn," said Rana Raj Singh, "and I will take eight men. +Let the others be your escort to the palace. It is no man's business to +ask me whither I ride at any hour, day or night, so if any one asks—"</p> + +<p>"Take all your men," the Ranee interrupted. She looked appraisingly at +Blake. "Would Mr. Blake mind riding with me to the palace?"</p> + +<p>"Honored. Shall we go now?" Blake answered promptly. He wanted her +out of the residency before some spy should recognize her and send +secret reports to the Central Government that might keep him writing +explanations for a twelve-month.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"And if this plan fails us?" asked the Ranee.</p> + +<p>"Which it will," Blake interrupted. "But it's a good plan, because it +sends you back to the palace out of danger."</p> + +<p>"If it fails us, there is this: the Brahmins are sure to send a +deputation to me in the morning to demand the execution of Asoka and +probably, too, the dismissal of Mr. Quorn. I shall refuse, of course, +and that will make them far more irritated than they are already. I +will publicly arrange to send Asoka to the old hermitage beyond the +river. That will be a challenge to them; they claim the hermitage as +theirs, whereas it isn't. I will ride Asoka to the hermitage, and I +will ride rashly without my soldiers. That should tempt the Brahmins to +occupy the hermitage and to attack me on the way, or to cause others +to attack me, as is more likely. Rana Raj Singh will provide them the +answer to that!"</p> + +<p>Suddenly she turned to Rana Raj Singh—touched his hand again. "You and +I have quarreled, because I rode from my palace at night, unattended, +to the residence of Mr. Blake, who is a bachelor! You are leaving +me—riding away in disgust with all your men! I will spread that story. +All Narada shall have heard it by to-morrow noon. So you shall be a +surprise to the Brahmins. Watch Quorn—keep yourself and your men under +cover—let Mr. Blake know where you are, so that he can find you or get +a message to you without any one suspecting you are in secret touch +with me." She smiled at Blake. "Everybody knows that Mr. Blake would +never stoop to interference in local intrigue, so no one will suspect +him—not even his government."</p> + +<p>Blake winced. Smoking in a powder magazine is a sane, safe and +comfortable form of self-preservation in comparison to overstepping the +bounds of diplomatic privilege in India. However, he who coined the +motto "safety first" forgot that safety is the enemy of all adventure +and of all things new, as well as of the ancient virtues such as +chivalry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, damn!" said Blake. "Well, go on. What next? I'm in for it."</p> + +<p>"Each to his task," said the Ranee. "I go home. If any of you happens +to see Bamjee, don't be too rough with him, but send him to me at the +palace. Good night, Mr. Quorn. I hope your ankles and wrists will soon +get well again." Suddenly she remembered she had made Quorn her special +agent with full authority. "Is the plan all right? Is it a good one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss. Good as any other, I guess."</p> + +<p>"Very well then, it stands. Mr. Blake, shall we let them ride away +before you take me to the palace?"</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later she bowed to convention enough to let Blake hold her +stirrup while she swung into the saddle.</p> + +<p>Less than thirty seconds after their backs were turned—almost before +the lamp-light ceased to gleam on their horses' quarters—Blake's +office window was gently raised and a man stepped out on the veranda. +One of Blake's servants saw him, started after him.</p> + +<p>The man waited and the servant rushed him. The man stepped aside. A +silken handkerchief flickered almost too fast for human eyes to follow +and the servant fell face forward, separated from his life as if +electric energy had drawn his very nerves into itself. He did not move. +He made no sound except the thump of falling. For a second the owner +of the handkerchief stood on the rail of the veranda, holding to an +upright, listening. Then he leaped into a shadow and was gone.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>AT THE FEET OF SIVA.</h3> + + +<p>Siva's temple stands on Siva's breast, which is a hill. Kali is the +dreadful bride of Siva. Kali's temple stands on Kali's breast, which is +another hill.</p> + +<p>An ancient bridge unites the two, and underneath the bridge the +Pul-ke-Nichi runs—a narrow street between the hills, a few feet higher +than the level of the temple basements, which were excavated century +by century until the hills are like honeycombs and no man—except +certain Brahmins—knows the secret of the interlacing tunnels or how +deep the dungeons lie in the foundations below the basement and the +courtyard level.</p> + +<p>Nobody knows what happens in the dungeons, or has happened in them. +Certainly Bamjee did not know, although he had boasted to the contrary. +He only knew that the courtyard where he stood was almost at street +level, but between him and the street was a teak door, possibly a foot +thick, that exactly fitted a ponderous arch and frame of cyclopean +masonry. There was no escape by that route.</p> + +<p>Crouching like a rat in the shadow he listened. He heard the gate-men +say he had escaped. He heard them reprimanded, heard the order given to +keep the gate locked until morning—worshipers were to be told to enter +the temple by the small door on the far side of the hill. Bamjee's +problem was to get into the temple, in which there was never an hour +of day or night that did not see somebody, and normally a number of +people, meditating or clicking rosaries and chanting <i>mantrams</i>. From +the temple he could walk out through the small door unobserved.</p> + +<p>There were two chief difficulties, of which the more immediate was the +danger of crossing the courtyard. There was no guessing how many temple +attendants lurked in the pitch-dark shadows; it was a hot night and +every one off-duty probably had spread his mattress under the stars.</p> + +<p>"And such dogs sleep with one eye open," Bamjee muttered.</p> + +<p>However, it had to be risked. Another difficulty was that he had +dressed as a low-caste nondescript who had no business within those +sacred walls. A caste-mark did not matter; that would be invisible at +night, but the huge white turban and the flowing cotton garments were a +problem. He had to solve that first.</p> + +<p>He remembered the silken turban he had coiled around his waist, and the +thought of that reminded him that he still had money tucked away.</p> + +<p>"Could buy a high priest if I had enough," he muttered. "How much have +I? It feels like five hundred rupees. I remember the time when that +much would have bought me five times over. I was always better than two +Brahmins. That is therefore ten times too much for a Brahmin's honor. +He must therefore throw in something. Courage, Bamjee-bhai! If you can +escape from this place there is no reason why something besides dirt +should not stick to you. I think those gate-men have gone to sleep."</p> + +<p>He could hear one of them snoring; of the other he was not so certain. +However, he contrived to strip himself stark naked without making any +noticeable sound. Then he bound the silken turban on his head and, +timing the sound to the snores of the sleeper, he tore the cotton +sheeting until he had enough to make one simple loin-cloth, which he +wrapped around his waist. He could now pass for a Chattrya, who had a +right to worship, but no right whatever except in a certain section of +the temple set apart for non-Brahmin suppliants for Siva's notice.</p> + +<p>So far, so good. But to reach the tunnel leading to the winding +stairway, hewn out of the rock, that led upward to the temple floor +appeared impossible. He could dimly see shadowy forms of men sitting in +groups in the courtyard. He could hear the murmur and drone of their +conversation. It would be impossible to get by them unnoticed, nor did +he dare to risk losing himself in any of the other passages and tunnels +whose dark openings loomed like ink-blots in the night.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He crept toward the courtyard until, on his right, he could see the +flight of steps leading to a parapet from which, he knew, the bridge +stretched over the street toward Kali's temple. Kali's temple would be +worse than Siva's, as far as concerned getting out of it; its priests +were not on speaking terms with Siva's priests, whom they regarded as +loafers lacking discipline and zeal.</p> + +<p>But Bamjee knew that the parapet, and the bridge beyond it, as far as +the midway barrier erected and protected by the rival priests of Kali, +was a zone where idlers often broke the temple rules unknown to their +superiors.</p> + +<p>It is not alone in Christian churches that the devil incites the +sanctified to shoot craps in a vestry now and then; the critics of +Christianity have problems also. Bamjee, seeing that the moonlight +streamed down one side of the steps and left the other half in +darkness, tiptoed silently along the shadow by the wall and climbed in +search of sinners <i>in delictu</i>.</p> + +<p>"Luck," said Bamjee to himself, "is a hole in the roller of God that +otherwise crushes us. I have found one or two in my day. Maybe I find +another now."</p> + +<p>He did. There were no card parties, such as he hoped for; no +surreptitious singing of immodest songs; no drinking—nothing of any +blackmail value, until he peered around an image of the temple god, on +whose impassive shoulders scores of pigeons slept, and saw a woman, who +shrunk herself into a niche in the masonry, weeping. Never a man met +misery with greater pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Woman," remarked Bamjee, "I disagree with you. It may be you are all +he said you are, and worse, but you are not the most desperate person. +I am he. I, too, am made incredulous of the divine because I rashly +trusted a disciple of divinity. What shall you do? I don't know—until +you tell me what the matter is. First you shall tell me your sad tale, +then I will tell mine. Thus we may help each other."</p> + +<p>She was a pretty, soft-willed little woman of the sort that any rascal +can seduce with words that ooze romance, and she had given all she had +to somebody, no doubt of it.</p> + +<p>But like many another little fool, she had seemed so foolish that her +sanctified betrayer had dared to warm his vanity at the flame of her +admiration by revealing secrets to her that he thought were safe in her +simple mind, and now she only asked for sympathy to make her bubble +them all forth, the last first, in the order in which they crowded +memory.</p> + +<p>She had not depth enough of grief to be ashamed; she was only sorry for +herself. First come, first served; if she had known that Bamjee was an +expert at uncorking secrets, she would have told hers nevertheless. She +simply had to talk.</p> + +<p>"A little cash," said Bamjee to himself, "applied at the proper moment, +in the right way, heals all the smarts of ignorance. It is only +knowledge that is incurable." So he applied the cash.</p> + +<p>He pointed out to her how money pays for care at the Ranee's hospital; +and he told her of the Ranee's school of industry where women became +self-supporting and were protected from rapacious relatives, so +that even lawful husbands could not claim them and collect their +earnings. Such talk was like a fairy tale, but the hundred rupees that +she clenched in her hand were true enough. So she told the truth, +too—first the name of her seducer, then his temple rank, and then, to +match those wonder tales of Bamjee's, one by one his secrets.</p> + +<p>"And he will come for you? He will come for you here?" asked Bamjee.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he must. He will come to get rid of me when he comes off duty. I +can't get out of the temple without his help."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>So Bamjee waited, getting her to tell the tale again until she grew +suspicious and, having told it all twice over, suddenly decided to be +secretive. Bamjee knew exactly what to do with that mood.</p> + +<p>"If you say one word more I will ask the Ranee not to admit you to +her hospital and to her school after your baby is born. From now on, +silence! If you speak when the priest comes, I will tell him what you +have told me."</p> + +<p>It was late—hardly an hour before sunrise, when the culprit came: +a shaven, well-fed, healthy Brahmin, with a long nose and a mouth +less cruel than irresponsible. He did not see Bamjee, who had perched +himself up on the arm of Siva's statue, disturbing numbers of pigeons +that came back and slept on his shoulders. The Brahmin began upbraiding +the woman, resuming a conversation where it had been interrupted when +he went on duty in the temple:</p> + +<p>"How should I know that the child is mine? And if it were, what of it? +Do you know how great an honor is intimacy with one of my caste? Do you +know the penalty for bringing a Brahmin into disrepute? Do you know the +law against adultery? Do you know what your husband can do to you if +he suspects that child is not his own? And do you know the penalty for +trespassing within this temple? Do you know the sin of ingratitude? Do +you know—"</p> + +<p>"Do you know who I am?" Bamjee asked him. When he moved he disturbed +the pigeons, so that up there on Siva's arm he must have looked amazing +at the first glimpse; the Brahmin's imagination may have clothed him +in other-world emblems of association with the gods. The Brahmin put +the palms of his hands together and touched his forehead. Then he knelt +with bowed head.</p> + +<p>Bamjee stepped on to his head. He rapped his forehead smartly against +the stone work. Then he squatted, and when the Brahmin looked up it was +at Bamjee's platinum-rimmed spectacles.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he demanded then, angrily, aware that he had made a fool +of himself. Perhaps he suspected that Bamjee was the woman's husband.</p> + +<p>"Point is, I know who you are," Bamjee answered. "I know what you have +been doing and I know what you are going to do."</p> + +<p>Recognizing Bamjee as any rate not of Brahmin caste, the Brahmin +resorted to the insolence that is the essence of the pretensions of his +breed. "Dogs now and then bark at their betters, but—"</p> + +<p>"But the betters avoid being bitten sometimes," Bamjee answered. "One +thing you will do, when I am ready, is to guide me and this woman from +the temple."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is she your woman?"</p> + +<p>"The whole temple shall know she is yours, at the top of my lungs," +said Bamjee, "her lungs also, probably—unless you swallow your +impertinence and listen. You will do exactly what I tell you. Otherwise +you shall be known as a Brahmin who has defiled himself—and much more +also. The Ranee shall learn all about your plans. Oh, yes, I know all +about them. No, no, you cannot immure me in a dungeon—not for many +minutes. It is known where I am. I am not at all afraid of being caught +in here. I am a spy! Yes, certainly, a very good one. And I don't mind +telling you who pays me: a committee of the merchants of Narada! What +for? They are weary of the Ranee. They desire to know whether or not +you Brahmins are concerting action against her. If so, they will be +very generous to the temple treasury, but if not—"</p> + +<p>"If not, what then?" the Brahmin demanded.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. I know your plans now. They are good ones."</p> + +<p>The Brahmin sneered. "You have learned them from that fool?" He glared +at the shrinking woman as if eyes could burn her up. Not even the dark +shadow of the overhanging statue prevented the woman from seeing and +feeling his wrath. In another moment she would have denied having told +anything, but Bamjee forestalled her.</p> + +<p>"I have said I am a good spy, oh, person of small intelligence!" Bamjee +was itching to get away, but he betrayed no trace of it; he appeared +willing to talk until after daylight.</p> + +<p>"Would a good spy listen to a woman? To a woman with a grievance? +I have been all night listening to the twice-born groups of holy +chatterers who sweat below there in the courtyard. As for the woman, +I only use her as a stick to beat you with, to make you guide me out +of the temple. In return I will see you well rid of the woman. I will +attend to the woman. You need not give another thought to her. Give her +your blessing—and perhaps a little money—"</p> + +<p>Bamjee knew perfectly well that no temple Brahmin would give up money +to a woman. Thoroughly he understood the money hunger of the men who +were supposed to get along without it.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Money? I have none," said the Brahmin.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. If she agrees to be silent, perhaps I myself will give +her some," said Bamjee. "I have plenty. The merchants of Narada pay me +handsomely, in return for the risks I undertake. How many men are there +who would dare to spy into this temple? Daring and intelligence such as +mine command a market price. I could even spare you some—perhaps—if +you should need it."</p> + +<p>"To the giver the reward," the Brahmin answered. "There is virtue in +giving."</p> + +<p>"Yes, undoubtedly. But"—Bamjee blinked behind his spectacles. He was +taking a long shot at a venture, betting on his own imagination and the +inspiration of the moment—"who is to guarantee that Maraj will perform +his part of the bargain? Maraj bungled that elephant business. It is +true he induced a fakir to frighten the elephant, and the fakir was +silenced by instant death, but who else suffered?"</p> + +<p>The Brahmin's breath was almost taken by the question. Leaning, almost +touching faces, Bamjee thought he noticed signs of that snail-like +withdrawal into a mental shell that all the East knows how to practice +and that is so difficult to probe. So he went on talking, telling what +he really had learned from the woman, not what he guessed:</p> + +<p>"It is a good plan to demand that the elephant be slain and that +Quorn be dismissed from her service. She will refuse both demands, +undoubtedly. The next move after that is equally well considered, since +she is proud and obstinate and fearless. Let the deputation say to her: +'If true that this monster is fit to live, and that Quorn can manage +him, prove that to us. Ride him yourself. Order Quorn to put the howdah +on him, and do you ride in the howdah.' That is excellent, and she +will do it, because she is young and foolish and excitable. But who is +to guarantee that Maraj will make the elephant unmanageable? Who? Who +guarantees that? I have a sum of money for that man, if I can find him. +Some now, more afterward. Who is he?"</p> + +<p>The Brahmin tapped his own chest. Bamjee nodded, but produced no money +yet. He knew those Brahmins.</p> + +<p>"How will you go about it? How will you manage a maniac?" Bamjee asked.</p> + +<p>"Easily. We would withdraw our protection—he would not last one day +if he should fail us. Besides, the old hermitage has been his hiding +place so long that he feels like a ghost that haunts it. Maniacs have +iron minds. They yield up no obsessions. Rather than be driven from +the hermitage Maraj would—anything. There is nothing he would not do +rather than yield that hiding place. Part of the plan is to speak to +the Ranee craftily about the hermitage, inducing her to claim she owns +it. We defy her. She goes for a ride on the elephant. Somebody subtly +suggests to her to ride toward the hermitage and take possession. Then +I notify Maraj that she is coming to cast him forth. And there will be +enough of us near the hermitage to be witnesses that she was on her way +to seize temple property. Thus all Narada will know afterward that her +death was a just penalty inflicted on her by the gods."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Are you sure you can find Maraj?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I can always find him. I have only to make a certain signal. +Then I meet him at a certain place. Two of us know that signal. One +of us is with Maraj to-night. He was to try to persuade Maraj to kill +Quorn, but the plan appeared to me ridiculous—too risky—too many +chances for Quorn to escape. I am sure he will be back soon saying +that the plan failed. I hope it does fail. To-morrow's plan is better +because she and Quorn will both die at the same time—Maraj also, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Much better," said Bamjee. "Here are three hundred rupees for you. +There will be three thousand more if the plan succeeds. Will you be at +the hermitage?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Please bring the money to the hermitage. And now you had better +go if I am to guide you and this woman without your being seen."</p> + +<p>"Come, woman! Come!" commanded Bamjee. But before he went he wrote his +name in pencil on the toe of Siva's image.</p> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""> + <div class="caption"> + <p><i>Craftily Bamjee wrote his name in pencil on the toe of Siva's image.</i></p> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<p>"Proof," he muttered, "proof that I have been here might help, if the +Brahmins—yes, it might help either way the cat jumps."</p> + +<p>Through a maze of passages, in darkness, up and down enormous stairs +between enormous walls, they reached a narrow door at last that opened +on an alley.</p> + +<p>When the door was shut behind them Bamjee sat down on the step. He +had his pencil, but no paper, so he tore a corner off his cotton +loin-cloth, and on that he wrote a short note to his wife. He gave it +to the woman.</p> + +<p>"Take it to her," he commanded, "and say nothing until you see me. You +will receive food and a bed to sleep in. But before you go to sleep, +remember and remember and remember every word you heard that Brahmin +say to me. Now run!"</p> + +<p>The woman ran. Bamjee sat still on the step, his head between his +hands. He was tired to the verge of hysteria.</p> + +<p>"What next? What now? Are there any gods? I doubt it. If there were +they would admire—they would inspire me! To the palace? Tell her? +Certainly not; she would get the credit and Bamjee would be left out +in the cold as usual. Then what? Never mind the danger—danger is the +spice of profit. Who—where—what is the key to the riddle now? Quorn +is!</p> + +<p>"Can I find him? Where did he hide that elephant? Puzzle: find an +elephant. Only all outdoors in which to look. And at that he may +be indoors. Nevertheless, if I find the elephant I find Quorn. Not +there? Only have to wait, perhaps sleep—Quorn will arrive presently. +If I can find him, tell him, make him understand, perhaps—oh, damn +perhaps! I am a genius—I can be what that idiot Blake calls a god +in a box—no, god out of a box. Critical moment, pull plug—save +everybody—here—credit—thank you, Bamjee—profitable—very. Where +could Quorn have hidden that abominable pachydermatous atrocity? +Oh—all that distance?—walk—well—"</p> + +<p>Bamjee walked until he found a pony that had stood all night hitched to +a shop door. It had a bridle, but no saddle.</p> + +<p>"Flagrant breach of regulation number so-and-so—duty of any citizen +aware of same to take steps—pony, do you know where the city pound is? +Neither do I. Let us look for it. Canter, you hairy curse, or somebody +may catch us!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>ASOKA IN HIDING.</h3> + + +<p>The outcast's lot is not a happy one, but there are compensations. The +Chandala are regarded as so untouchable that even sweepers will have +nothing to do with them. They are not allowed in cities. Such villages +as they have are in the jungle, where they are neither taxed nor +troubled by the census taker. If they die, they die; and if they rot, +they rot; it is nobody's business.</p> + +<p>So they are as free as any sort of human being can be, and the proof +that they are actually human is that they crave what they have not +got—servitude.</p> + +<p>They ignorantly ache for a red-hot religion and rules and a boss to +deprive them of liberty—a fact which had made it very easy for Maraj +to pose among them as a being from another world.</p> + +<p>Quorn had merely taken pity on them and employed them to cut grass for +his elephants. He had made a number of journeys into the jungle to show +them what kind of grass he wanted, and on one of these expeditions he +had found a ruined building, roofless but otherwise serviceable. It had +been full of trash and brambles when he first discovered it, but he had +made use of the elephants to clean it out, and he was using it now as a +place in which to hide Asoka from the machinations of the Brahmins.</p> + +<p>He could with fair confidence count on the Chandala not to give away +the hiding place because of their ingrained, justified and lively +mistrust of any one asking questions or even trespassing into their +part of the jungle. It was not very far from Narada—at any rate, not +more than twenty miles—and he reached it on Blake's skewbald errand +pony not long after daybreak. He was rather surprised that there +were no Chandala, lean and dirty-looking, perching on the walls like +vultures to stare at Asoka.</p> + +<p>He turned the pony into a roofless room beside a heap of hay and limped +into Asoka's chamber, where a glance told him that nothing whatever was +wrong. Asoka greeted him, gathered him up in his trunk, hoisted him up +on his head, and the two went down to the creek for the morning drink +and a mud bath.</p> + +<p>That took time, because the mud had to be washed off afterward, which +meant a long swim and a lot of fooling, so the sun was well up over the +trees when Quorn rode back along the jungle glade and reëntered the +ruin. He could see, at a bend in the glade, the broken branches that +Rana Raj Singh had thrown down to mark and at the same time to conceal +the trail down which he and his men had ridden to hide in the <i>nullah</i> +not far away. It was probable that one man, or perhaps two, were in +the trees on the alert, but it would need second-sight to discover a +Rajput scout, even if you knew exactly where to look.</p> + +<p>Quorn proposed to himself to get some sleep, although it was a poor +place for it because the flies were awful. However, he gathered green +leaves with which to cover himself, shook the hay to make sure there +were no snakes in it, and lay down, near enough to Asoka to be awakened +if the monster should grow restless.</p> + +<p>He was watching, through a chink between the leaves, the great body +swaying to the rhythm of the spheres, or whatever it is that elephants +are conscious of, when Bamjee came cantering down the glade and, after +turning his pony into the same inclosure with Quorn's, broke in on +Quorn's peace.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Oh!" said Bamjee. "I am glad to to see you!"</p> + +<p>"Can't return the compliment," said Quorn, sitting up and brushing hay +out of his hair. "You're a buzzard of ill-omen. Any time you show up +there's grief around the corner. What's eating you? You didn't run me +down for nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing? What is nothing? If everything is nothing, as the Yogis say, +then nothing is everything. Everything is enough. I have every reason. +Shall I name one?"</p> + +<p>Quorn sighed and filled his pipe. "You look like the wreck o' the +Hesperus. Indecent, you, a father of a family, sporting around in a +turban and cotton gee-string. I'm ashamed of the elephant seeing you."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said Bamjee, "I am the person who will cause you to +become a Sirdar. Sirdar Benjamin Quorn: how will that look on the +envelope? I know now what the Brahmins intend to do. You shall defeat +them with my help. You shall have all the credit, but you must promise +to pay me half of the big bonus that the Ranee will undoubtedly give +you."</p> + +<p>"Nix," Quorn answered. "Getting's keepings. Play your own hand. You +wouldn't offer to deal me in unless you wanted me so damn bad you're +fair busting. So shoot."</p> + +<p>"Well, I could easily go to the Ranee with my story."</p> + +<p>"You can soap yourself and slide to hell with it. I ain't particular."</p> + +<p>"If I should tell you what I have ascertained, will you promise to +recommend me also for a bonus?"</p> + +<p>"No. You make enough off the gum you lick off postage stamps to pay my +salary twice over. When I make promises, I know why. And when I don't +make 'em I know why. You're why. Get me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if I should take you into my confidence—"</p> + +<p>"You mean get me to trust you? Can't be done."</p> + +<p>"If I should tell you what I know, and you should use that information, +and by using it should not only save the Ranee's life, but also catch +the Brahmins in their own trap, would you see that I get credit for it?"</p> + +<p>"Mebbe."</p> + +<p>"Is that your best bid? Listen, Mr. Quorn. The Ranee appointed you her +agent to hunt down Maraj and to connect him with the Brahmins. You +may order everybody—troops, police, palace servants, Prince Rana Raj +Singh, even myself. I have information, and I am willing to tell you +how to solve the riddle—how to give the necessary orders and so snatch +fame and reward in the very face of destiny. What will you do for me?"</p> + +<p>"You mean if you ain't lying? If you really have that information? +I'll hold you underneath that elephant while he does a Charleston on +your belly—unless you tell me dam-quick every word you know. Sit down +there. Spill it. Satan's high hat! You, as naked as a nigger, coming +here to try and <i>sell</i> me something that might save <i>her</i> life? Act +your age, Bamjee. Say all you know, and say it quick."</p> + +<p>Even his enemies, of whom he has several, say this of Bamjee: that +he knows when to capitulate, and that he does it with a good grace. +He ignored Quorn's rudeness, threw all stipulation to the winds, and +plunged into his story, relating in minute detail what had happened in +the Brahmin temple.</p> + +<p>"And I tell you, Mr. Quorn, that they are tired of Maraj, even though +they do not say so in plain words. They are afraid of him. They are +almost as anxious to see the end of him as of you and the Ranee. I +think it likely they will snap him in the same trap in which they hope +to catch you. All you need to do is ride into the trap and have Prince +Rana Raj Singh lie in ambush; each of his men will have a Brahmin on +his lance before the day is over.</p> + +<p>"But if you tell the Ranee before-hand she will give neither you nor me +the credit. And if you tell Prince Rana Raj Singh, it will be the same +story—"</p> + +<p>A shadow fell between them. Then a hollow voice:</p> + +<p>"And if you tell Maraj? What if you should tell Maraj?"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Bamjee almost fainted. Maraj had climbed over the wall and approached +from behind them. His maniac eyes looked burned by lack of sleep, +and his movement was almost simian, but an intelligence, mocking and +masterful, glowed beneath the surface. However dry his eyes might seem, +they looked indomitable. He lifted Bamjee by the neck with one hand and +dumped him beside Quorn.</p> + +<p>Then he sat and faced them both. Quorn noticed that Asoka was beginning +to grow nervous.</p> + +<p>"Snap Maraj in a trap! That is funny!"</p> + +<p>"Hell!" said Quorn. "Of course they couldn't catch you in a trap."</p> + +<p>"But I will catch them!"</p> + +<p>"Sure you will. O' course you will. That's a part o' the bargain you +made with me."</p> + +<p>Genius has nothing whatever to do with education. It is a gift for +recognizing the essence of things and what to do about it. Quorn knew +nothing about maniacs, just as he had known nothing about elephants +until he came to Narada. He could not have explained his method; it +would certainly not have occurred to him to say there was something +simple about a man whose manhood had been lost in a maze of egotism and +murderous cunning.</p> + +<p>He did not think about it. He acted, simply.</p> + +<p>"Would you break our bargain?"</p> + +<p>But Maraj was suspicious. "There is new horse-dung on the track. Whose +horses?"</p> + +<p>"Mine. Bamjee's."</p> + +<p>"Many horses. Whose?"</p> + +<p>"Rana Raj Singh and his men. Rana Raj Singh quarreled with the +Ranee—pulled his freight. Off in a huff. Nobody knows where he's +going, and nobody cares."</p> + +<p>Something in the maniac's eyes altered. Cunning beneath cunning +readjusted purpose beneath purpose. Quorn noticed a sudden blaze of +anger that was instantly suppressed and hidden under too much suavity; +but he had no means of knowing that Maraj had listened through Blake's +window to the whole of the Ranee's conversation.</p> + +<p>"He is after Maraj," said the maniac.</p> + +<p>He was being so subtle now that subtlety oozed from his lips in a +conceited smile, defeating its own end. Simultaneously Quorn and Bamjee +recognized that his conceit could be his own undoing.</p> + +<p>"What do you care?" Quorn asked. "Ain't you a match for him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and for the Brahmins also." He fixed his eyes on Bamjee's. "You +did not know, did you, that I was listening behind the wall? I heard +you say the Brahmins mean to snap me in the same trap with the Ranee. +So they shall. I will be the bait. I will draw the Brahmins, too, into +their own trap. Rana Raj Singh shall find them in it, and destroy them. +But, first, they shall destroy the Ranee, so that he shall have the +impulse to destroy them. Ho, but we will feed death! And though they +close me in a trap without an outlet, can they keep me in it?"</p> + +<p>He grinned, glaring again into Quorn's eyes. "Afterward, you and I will +keep that tryst—when you have no elephant to think about—nothing to +think about except me, your master."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Maraj got up and stared at Asoka, having glanced first at the ropes +that held the monster's hind feet. He was well out of reach of his +trunk. He said nothing—did nothing—only stared. But the elephant, +already nervous, suddenly grew panic-stricken, screamed, tried to reach +him and kill him. He did his best to burst the heel ropes.</p> + +<p>Quorn's fingers were on a piece of broken masonry; the intention to +crush the maniac's skull with it burned in his brain and his veins, but +the stone was too heavy to lift. Maraj turned to him and grinned:</p> + +<p>"Soon—soon now you shall learn what it means to be all-passionate, and +at the same time helpless. That is agony—exquisite, exquisite agony; +dew on the flowers of death. So fragrant! So delicious! Wait and see."</p> + +<p>He sprang to the wall in three strides then, vaulted it, and vanished. +Quorn went to Asoka and spent a whole hour coaxing him back to calmness.</p> + +<p>"Did a bogy scare him? Daddy's big boy! Never mind, we'll show 'em. +Nex' time, maybe, we won't have no heel ropes on—and then what?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly Quorn turned on Bamjee: "Get a move on, you. Time enough to +take it easy when you're dead. Go find the Ranee and tell her every +word of what's took place. Don't you leave one word out. And if them +Brahmins have already been to her with their demands, you tell her +from me to give out that she'll ride Asoka to that there hermitage +to-morrow morning. I'll have him saddled and ready and at the palace +door.</p> + +<p>"She'd better order about half the troops to march behind her, but +remember: them guys aren't dependable against the Brahmins, so they'd +better start late and come along slow; they're jes' for appearances. +I'll see the Prince. And say, see Mr. Blake. Tell him if he wants to +see sport and maybe be a bit useful, he'd better ride Asoka with the +Ranee. That's all. Get your pony and get out o' here."</p> + +<p>When Bamjee had departed, Quorn took Asoka for another mud bath and a +swim.</p> + +<p>"Lord," he muttered as he rode out of the ruined building, "do you +suppose that maniac heard what I jus' said to Bamjee? Well—who cares? +I'm betting on the Prince and twenty Rajputs. There'll be a picnic." +Then he went on talking to Asoka: "Trouble you make, don't you? Never +mind, though, you ain't guilty this time. Use your big bean, or they'll +execute you day after to-morrow at sunrise.</p> + +<p>"What you're needing is a first-class working alibi, and durn me if +I know one. You killed a guy. You've got to offset that somehow. +Maybe alibi's the wrong word—I ain't no lawyer. Anyhow you use your +bean, you sucker, and I'll use mine, and we'll get you a verdict o' +not guilty somehow—somehow. Self-defense? Extreme provocation? No +evidence? Hell—none o' them won't do. We got to get an alibi or bust!"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>A TRAP FOR ASOKA.</h3> + + +<p>Narada knew that there were tantrums in the wind. It was the time of +year when corn-fed elephants go <i>musth</i> and men are inflamed by all the +tom-tom of the marriage drums until imagination, like a strange gas, +maddens the whole mob.</p> + +<p>It was normal in the month of carnival for slumbering resentment of +a thousand years of wrongs to blaze into sudden flame and make a +smoke-black ruin of—perhaps a street of money-lenders' houses, or a +mean mosque, raised by poor Mahommedans whose chaste and inexpensive +minaret had too long pointed to a scorching sky.</p> + +<p>No agitator needed to harangue hot crowds and tongue-lash lethargy into +a spate of violence. It only needed mummurs—of the right sort, from +the right source. And it is a strange fact that the more men mock the +methods, and the servants, and the outer symbols of religion, that much +easier it is for whisperers to stir them to the state where they will +stab each other.</p> + +<p>Nowhere more than in Narada are the Brahmins hated. Nowhere is it +easier for Brahmins of a certain sort to stir with almost noiseless +tongue the terrible volcano that resides in ignorant minds.</p> + +<p>And so it happened that the Ranee's troops could not march on the day +when Quorn brought back Asoka to the city, polished him until he shone, +harnessed him with the lightest hunting <i>howdah</i>, and rode him, stately +as a page of legend, through the crowded streets toward the palace. +The troops were needed to the last man—fifty of them—to parade with +gleaming bayonets and make rioting look like too risky a gamble.</p> + +<p>There were two tales circulating. One was that the Ranee had defied +the Brahmins, which nobody minded much, although they shuddered at the +sacrilege while they secretly and even openly enjoyed the scandal.</p> + +<p>It was the other tale that made men glower when they heard it. It was +not enough that the Ranee kept and protected and used an elephant +that had slain a very holy fakir. She had employed Maraj to cause the +elephant to do it. The Brahmins said so.</p> + +<p>And to show how fair and strictly truthful the Brahmins could be on +occasion, had the Brahmins not admitted publicly, and now privately, +that Quorn truly was the reincarnated Gunga <i>sahib</i>? The Brahmins had +explained it perfectly: it was just another case of ingratitude to the +gods who had provided the Ranee with agents for the accomplishment of +holy purposes, in the form of Quorn and his elephant; agents which she +had promptly used for unholy purposes.</p> + +<p>There could only be one possible end to it. Quorn, of course, would +have to suffer for letting himself be so misused. The elephant—the +Ranee—well, whoever should kill all three of them might have to be a +martyr for it, but inevitably he would turn out to be the agent of the +angry gods who would mete out due reward in the hereafter.</p> + +<p>As for Maraj, it was obvious now how he had escaped capture and +punishment for all those horrible murders. Anybody could understand it +now, since the Brahmins had told the truth about it. The Ranee had been +protecting him all along. Her offer of a heavy reward for his capture +had been nothing but a blind to deceive people. She had been making use +of Maraj to get rid of her enemies.</p> + +<p>True, many of the people murdered by Maraj had seemed unimportant and +not dangerous. It was equally true that some of them had been notorious +enemies of the Brahmins.</p> + +<p>But there were plain answers to both those questions. In the first +place, tyrants grow afraid of shadows, and kill imagined enemies +without rhyme or reason, that being one of the aspects of tyranny. In +the second place, people who oppose themselves to religious authority +must not blame the authorities if the gods take steps to destroy such +opposition.</p> + +<p>Nobody should blame the Brahmins for the gods' annoyance. One did not +have to like the Brahmins personally, or even collectively, nor need +one approve of all their arrogance, in order to see the unfairness of +blaming them for what the gods might do. One did not have to hate the +Ranee or to call her beauty ugliness and her generosity meanness, in +order to see what a fool she had made of herself, and what a wicked +woman she had been to employ and subsidize Maraj.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Besides, the Ranee had discarded <i>purdah</i> and neglected many of the +ancient customs. She had repeatedly defied the Brahmins who are, after +all, the fountain-head of wisdom. She had opened hospitals, where +people died at the hands of heretical doctors in spite of all the +genuine remedies that were smuggled to their bedside.</p> + +<p>She had opened a school for women, where women were actually taught, +in so many words, that they had rights as well as obligations. She +had closed the brothels, which, as everybody knew, were a social +safety-valve. And she was proposing to marry a man of her own choosing.</p> + +<p>The gods don't tolerate such infidelity for long; when they are weary +of it, they act suddenly and swiftly.</p> + +<p>So the city was in an expectant, ugly mood, and there were ugly rumors, +borne on the wings of nobody knew what. Everybody knew that something +terrible was going to happen. Those who owned property were afraid, and +those who owned none, or owed money, were belligerently watchful.</p> + +<p>The only thing that prevented rioting from breaking out in a sort of +spontaneous combustion was the gleam on the bayonets of the Ranee's +infantry and the beautifully polished brass of their machine gun, +strategically stationed where they could do the greatest amount of +damage in the shortest possible time.</p> + +<p>The sun beat down on all that mixed emotion like a million discordant +cymbals of yellow brass, heat and noise being only different vibrations +of the self-same violence.</p> + +<p>So as Quorn rode Asoka through the streets he did not receive his usual +ovation. Children were not lifted up to look at him. No women threw him +little bunches of waxy flowers. And the story of Asoka's slaying of +the holy fakir had been so spread and so exaggerated that the throngs +in the narrow streets melted away ahead of him; whereas it had always +been Asoka's reputation that, though his temper was terrific, he was +dignified and patient toward a crowd, particularly if the crowd was +noisy in its admiration.</p> + +<p>Asoka sensed the change of public sentiment almost, if not quite as +readily as Quorn perceived it, and by the time he reached the palace he +was already showing symptoms of uncertain temper. Quorn's voice kept +him in control and he behaved beautifully under the palace portico +while they set the ladder against him and the Ranee climbed into the +<i>howdah</i>; but as he started off he was rumbling in a way that called +for several smart raps with the <i>ankus</i> to remind him he was not his +own master.</p> + +<p>Blake was on horseback and had brought four mounted servants with him. +They were a sort of superior <i>sais</i>, quite undependable except as +grooms, and unarmed, but Blake's own automatic reposed in a holster +underneath his shirt; he appeared ill-tempered, in a mood to use that +pistol, in spite of his diplomatic status.</p> + +<p>Blake was the type of man who, when he does get involved in +indiscretion—as every diplomat worth trusting, and every diplomat who +ever accomplished anything, must do at times—never retreated but, by +even greater indiscretion, usually saved the day. The only thoroughly +discreet men are the dead ones, and the ill-served governments are +those whose agents never make mistakes because they don't dare. Blake +and his servants formed the rear guard, Blake being of the reasonable +opinion that his own presence, as a sort of unofficial escort, and +official witness, ought to make the Ranee safer than her own troops +would have done.</p> + +<p>The advance-guard was a party of the sons of the nobility, courtiers +all, eight in number, beautifully horsed and splendid in their colored +turbans, but unarmed because they were not Rajputs and because, by +treaty, the Ranee's troops were limited to fifty men. No non-military +individuals in India, except the Rajputs, are allowed to carry even +their native weapons, so there was neither sword nor lance in all that +party. But by the same law they had the right to suppose they would not +be met with weapons.</p> + +<p>As they swayed toward the open country the Ranee lay chin-on-elbows in +the <i>howdah</i>, merely sitting up at intervals to let any one who cared +to know it see that she was trusting herself on Asoka's back.</p> + +<p>She was in riding-breeches and a turban made of cloth of green and +gold. Her white silk shirt was fastened at the throat with an emerald +worth her ransom, but except for the diamond aigrette in her turban she +wore no other jewelry; she was out to do things and defeat her enemies, +not to adorn Narada. And as usual she talked with Quorn as if he were a +minister of state who knew all her personal secrets.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Miss," he said over his shoulder, "I seen the prince, and him and me +understood each other. He has all his twenty Rajputs with him. Half +have lances and the other half have sabers. And if you want my guess, +there's bootleg automatics under cover, but I know the law and I ain't +seen nothing. The prince told me he knows a <i>nullah</i> near the hermitage +where he can hide his men perfect; there's high reeds and a swamp, with +the river back o' that, so you can only come at the hiding place by one +track. He took along food for men and horses and he aimed to get in +there last night, or early before daylight. And he says there's a kind +of island in the <i>nullah</i>, quite high, with a clump o' tall trees on +it, so he can watch the hermitage and know what's going on."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"Hope, miss? You can bet your boots he's on the job!"</p> + +<p>"I hope," she said, "there will be a job for him to do. It is not so +simple in these days for a prince to prove his mettle. Do you know, Mr. +Quorn, if it weren't for that—that Rana Raj Singh needs an opportunity +to prove to himself that he is fit to be my consort—to himself, +you understand?—I would have sought some other way of solving this +problem."</p> + +<p>"Miss, there ain't no other way. You've got to soak it to them Brahmins +good. You can't argue with 'em. They've got laws and rules and +spiritual reggilations every way you turn and all amounting to the same +thing: Brahmins is right and everybody else is wrong, plus damn-bad, +ornery and wicked. Did Bamjee tell you all he knows?"</p> + +<p>"Bamjee never tells all he knows, but he told enough. Poor Bamjee! I +have sent him to the hermitage."</p> + +<p>"Good God, miss! What for?"</p> + +<p>"Simply to make trouble on general principles. Since we are to have +trouble anyhow, let us have lots of it. Bamjee told me that the +Brahmins have sent about a dozen of their number to the hermitage with +orders not to move out of it. Rana Raj Singh shall drive them out. +When the highest spiritual authorities turn crooked they always ally +themselves with the lowest elements, so I don't doubt we shall have the +Chandala to deal with. Maraj has probably stirred the Chandala against +me. Bamjee says the Brahmins are growing afraid of Maraj and intend to +betray him—"</p> + +<p>"And Maraj, miss, he means to betray the Brahmins—"</p> + +<p>"And the Brahmins, I happen to know through reliable spies, have taken +a number of ruffians with them to the hermitage."</p> + +<p>"There'll be hell to pay, miss—and no soldiers!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, this looks like real opportunity for Rana Raj Singh!"</p> + +<p>"And Asoka, miss? You ain't going to have him executed, nohow, are you? +Not whatever the outcome?"</p> + +<p>"This is his chance, too, I think," she answered.</p> + +<p>Quorn thumped Asoka with the <i>ankus</i>. "Do you hear that, you big bum? +Strut your stuff and think up your own alibi!"</p> + +<p>The hell that was to pay began when they had just crossed the wide +lower ford of Narada River. The advance-guard, laughing and chatting, +drew abreast of a swamp where the reeds were ten feet higher than a +man's head. The road they were to follow led around that swamp and then +eastward along the river bank. On the right was a porphyry cliff with +enormous bowlders at its foot, and ahead was the road to the railway +station, two days' march away.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Asoka was the first to fore-sense trouble; he curled up his precious +trunk out of harm's way and began shaking his ears. Quorn hardly had +time to get a firm grip with his knees when one of the escort threw up +his hand and shouted.</p> + +<p>With no other warning at all, from two directions—from the bowlders +and the reeds—at least a hundred water-buffalo came charging down on +them in one of those blind, irresistible rushes in which one mind, one +terror governs a whole herd and whelms whatever stands in front of it.</p> + +<p>The horsemen scattered and Asoka plunged into the reeds, the Ranee +laughing gayly as she clung to the <i>howdah</i>—until she saw a naked man +on a sort of raft open the reeds with his hands, leap carefully from +clump to clump of roots and jab at the elephant's rump with a spear.</p> + +<p>Asoka screamed with anger. Three more naked spearmen tried to work +their way toward him, but he plunged again out of the swamp at almost +the place where he had entered and proceeded to remove himself from +that scene at a speed that would have made a horse a Derby winner.</p> + +<p>"Hang on, miss!" Quorn cried.</p> + +<p>Fear takes hold of elephants as suddenly as typhoons smite the sea. +Frenzy as well as fear took hold of Asoka, arousing his whole strength, +his entire speed, blinding him, deafening him to Quorn's voice, making +him almost as unconscious as a landslide or a monster in a dream.</p> + +<p>He crashed into the jungle, smashed the <i>howdah</i> roof against a branch, +thundered through undergrowth, slid down <i>nullahs</i> like an avalanche +with earth-banks breaking under him, charged through clinging clumps of +thorn-brush, floundered into a wallow where the buffalo had lain, came +out of it smothered with mud and butted, squealing like a bucking pony, +against a tree that blocked his path. The tree cracked, splintered and +fell.</p> + +<p>Then, glimpsing through his blood-shot eyes a glade beyond a bamboo +thicket, he crashed through the thicket and began to lay the long +leagues underfoot.</p> + +<p>An elephant driven by terror can run for a day without stopping. Quorn +was satisfied to hold on for the present. He was pleased that he had +not dropped the iron <i>ankus</i>. Branches had whipped his forehead; with +his free hand he wiped the blood that had streamed in his eyes; it +was the blood that prevented him from seeing what was happening along +the glade. The Ranee, clinging to the low brass rail in front of the +<i>howdah</i> and with her feet jammed under the side-rails, leaned out and +touched Quorn between the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Do you see?" she shouted. "Fires!"</p> + +<p>He heard the word and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes. Men—Chandala, +he could see them now, lean, rusty-skinned, filthy—had set heaped +thorn-wood fires along the glade. They blazed and crackled suddenly as +Asoka drew near. They were all on one side of the glade—to the right.</p> + +<p>Asoka swerved away from them, until he left that glade where his path +was blocked by a wall of sputtering flame, and tore along a left-hand +opening between the trees in the direction of the river. The Ranee +touched Quorn's back again.</p> + +<p>"Can you turn him?"</p> + +<p>"No, miss."</p> + +<p>"I feel sure we are being driven into a trap!"</p> + +<p>Quorn began using every faculty he had. He had been half-stunned by the +whipping branches, but he threw off that sensation—or lack of it—as a +fighter in the ring does in the minute's interval between rounds.</p> + +<p>"Got to think—got to think like hell!" he muttered. "This big bum +ain't thinking."</p> + +<p>He began to encourage Asoka to run, instead of merely sitting still +and letting him. Pitching his voice to the familiar note of command he +urged him forward—faster!—faster!—until a shadowy, comforting sense +of obedience began to invade Asoka's consciousness.</p> + +<p>It seemed to the elephant now that he had obeyed Quorn in the +beginning; obeying him, he had outdistanced horror; he was ready to +obey again—presently—presently—maybe—when he should feel quite sure.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>There were fires again now, and more of them, at closer intervals; and +through a gap in the trees, ahead, Quorn saw the river gleaming like +burnished metal in the morning sun. He saw where the path they were +following forked; both branches led toward the river, but the left-hand +path was blocked by an inferno of crashing thorn-bush. Certainly the +trap was somewhere down the right-hand fork. Men leaped out of the +undergrowth with burning fire-brands, taking all risks, setting the +grass alight to drive Asoka down the right-hand fairway.</p> + +<p>And then Bamjee dropped out of a tree. It was like a dream. He was +torn, disheveled, he had lost his turban. He stood in the midst of the +right-hand path and waved his arms. He shouted. Then he fled into the +jungle with two of the Chandala following, hard on his heels.</p> + +<p>Quorn used the <i>ankus</i> then. He used it cruelly. Voice, knees, <i>ankus</i>, +all together urged the elephant to turn left. Once again Asoka curled +his trunk. He did not hesitate. He caught a glimpse of the river +between the trees, swung left between two blazing fires that almost +singed his flanks and scooted for the friendly water where he knew no +fire could follow.</p> + +<p>Quorn had forgotten the waterfall. There was a fifty-foot drop, heavy +water plunging onto crags, and he could hear the roar of it as the +river bank broke beneath Asoka's weight and the monster plunged in +head-first, turning almost a somersault, displacing tons of water.</p> + +<p>How Quorn hung on he never knew. He was half-drowned. For awhile he was +conscious of nothing except the need to cling with heels and hands and +knees, and to keep Asoka, if he could, from being swept down-river and +on to the crags below the fall. That thought obsessed him.</p> + +<p>Almost the first clear glimpse he had was of the river bank a hundred +yards away, and of the roaring falls not fifty feet beyond him on +his left hand. He could see the pale-green film of the crest of the +plunging water. In the same moment he knew that the Ranee was no longer +in the <i>howdah</i>.</p> + +<p>For a moment—just one moment—he ceased to care then whether he went +over the falls or not. The universe went blank. He had not known how +much he loved the Ranee. Then, as suddenly, a rage took hold of him. He +beat Asoka with his fists.</p> + +<p>"You big bum! Turn and find her!"</p> + +<p>But Asoka was cooling his hot flanks, comfortable, careless—as +indifferent to the world he had left behind as he was to waterfalls. He +had fled from terror.</p> + +<p>He had found peace, that included Quorn with no <i>ankus</i> in his hand. +Quorn's fists were funny.</p> + +<p>He submerged himself, breathing through his trunk that stuck a foot +above the water, giving Quorn a bath, too. Possibly he thought his +friend Quorn would enjoy that. Then, because the water, and the sense +of safety, and the physical reaction made him happy, he amused himself +and drove Quorn nearly frantic by pretending that the current was +drawing him over the waterfall.</p> + +<p>He let himself drift until the water thundered in Quorn's ears and the +glassy curve of the descending wave was almost within hand-reach; then +he slowly swam upstream—only to repeat the performance again, and +again, and again. At last, when he was nice and cool and the thought of +grass seemed good to him, he permitted himself to recognize that he was +being ordered out on dry land.</p> + +<p>Dry land be it, then. But not the bank where horror had pursued him. +Whenever Quorn tried to turn him toward the south bank, he submerged +himself, pretending he supposed Quorn wanted that; and it was on the +north bank that he emerged at last, ten feet above the waterfall, as +pleasant-tempered as he had been frantic half an hour ago.</p> + +<p>Narada River is deep at that point, banked up by the dyke that forms +the waterfall; below the fall it shallows to a ford a quarter of a +mile wide. Far across the river Quorn could see a stream of crimson +topped with billowing smoke where the thorn fires had caught the jungle +undergrowth. There were no men in sight. Doubtless they had fled from +the spreading flame. There was no wind just then; the fire was eating +its way outward in a circle.</p> + +<p>"Maybe I can get this fool across the ford," Quorn muttered.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<h3>THE LOST RANEE.</h3> + + +<p>There was a well-defined track down the rocks to the foot of the fall, +and below that there was a footpath all along the river to the ford. +Quorn rode along that, watching the troubled water, half-expecting to +see the Ranee's body, mangled by the crags, floating in mid-stream or +stranded. But he knew there were alligators, slimy, greedy devils; +floating bodies had a slim chance; even the fords were sometimes +dangerous for passengers on foot.</p> + +<p>All that way along the river bank Quorn was sick at heart and careless +even of Asoka's comfort or his destiny; however, he began to be puzzled +before long by symptoms that he noticed, and he was more than ever +puzzled by Asoka's willingness to cross the river when they reached the +ford.</p> + +<p>"What's eating you? What's making you forget?" he wondered.</p> + +<p>All the way across the ford he indulged in sentimental guesswork as to +whether the Ranee's death had not humiliated and broken Asoka's spirit. +Nearly every one is capable at times of that sort of imagination.</p> + +<p>However, on the far bank he got down to search for what the matter +might be, and soon discovered the spear-wound in Asoka's rump. It was +nothing serious, although it might be painful, and he understood then +that Asoka had been merely asking for attention.</p> + +<p>He made Asoka kneel and, having no remedies handy, made a fly-brush +of grass at the end of a string that would sway with the elephant's +movement and prevent the stinging flies from laying eggs in the open +cut.</p> + +<p>It was while he was tying the string to the <i>howdah</i> rail that Bamjee +came. By this time the <i>babu</i> had lost his spectacles. There was +hardly a shred of untorn clothing on his body and almost every inch +of him was bleeding from the thorns. He was breathless and he fell at +Quorn's feet. For a minute or two he lay and vomited. Then suddenly his +will power triumphed and he knelt—sputtered—exploded:</p> + +<p>"Damn! Loafer! Bloody fool! You wait here? Oh, my God! I saw you on the +far bank—didn't you see my signal?"</p> + +<p>"Looking for the Ranee," Quorn answered. Then he lowered his voice. +"She's drownded."</p> + +<p>"Liar!"</p> + +<p>"She is. She's drownded."</p> + +<p>"Liar, I tell you! I saw her swim—she was washed out of the <i>howdah</i> +close inshore—caught the grass in her hands and climbed out—scrambled +up the bank. He seized her—"</p> + +<p>"For the love o' God, who did?"</p> + +<p>"Maraj! Pounced on her like a hawk on a bird. He had a trap set. I +warned you, and you avoided it. I had to run, and they thought they +killed me, but I came back. When Maraj saw you plunge into the river +he ran to the place. And when he saw the Ranee in the water he hid +himself. I tried to yell to her, but I had no voice. I couldn't +whisper! And so she climbed out, and Maraj pounced on her.</p> + +<p>"I saw him pick her up—she was kicking—he carried her—he ran—and +I ran—he choked her until she left off kicking—then I saw him take +her to the hermitage, which is full of Brahmins and cutthroats—and +I don't know where the Prince is—and we can't get to the hermitage +now—<i>because the whole damn jungle is on fire! Oh, my God!</i>"</p> + +<p>He lay and beat the hard earth with his flat palms. He beat his +forehead on the ground. Quorn lifted him, took him by shoulders and +heel and hoisted him into the <i>howdah</i>. Then he climbed up to his own +place on Asoka's neck, after he had broken off a short stick for +administrative purposes.</p> + +<p>"Come on now, and no bunk!"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Quorn was not even quite sure where the hermitage lay, and it was no +use asking Bamjee, who was moaning and out of his senses, rolling from +side to side of the <i>howdah</i>. But Bamjee had told the truth about the +jungle fire; the hot-weather wind was rising and the roar and heat and +smell of it were coming closer every second.</p> + +<p>There were birds and animals in full flight—scores of them—even a +leopard that passed within six feet and did not pause to look at a man +on an elephant. Asoka, too, was getting difficult to manage.</p> + +<p>So Quorn turned down-wind, but headed southward as much as possible, +in order to make a circuit of the fire; but he had to make a very wide +circuit indeed because of Asoka's nervousness. However, Asoka was +willing, and put his best foot forward; they covered five or six miles +faster than a horse could have done it, which brought them out of the +zone of rolling smoke.</p> + +<p>And when they were out of the haze of the smoke Quorn presently +saw Blake on horseback on a knoll, gazing under his hand in every +direction. He clapped his spurs in and came galloping the moment he +caught sight of Asoka.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, where is the Ranee?" he demanded. "What has happened?"</p> + +<p>Quorn was laconic. Bamjee stuck his head over the <i>howdah</i> rail and +repeated Quorn's words after him—adding to them.</p> + +<p>"Go to her—for God's sake, go to her!" he almost screamed, and then +collapsed.</p> + +<p>But in another moment he was on his knees again, and it was Bamjee who +first caught sight of Rana Raj Singh and ten of his men moving westward +in an extended line with the long slow-swinging canter that saves +horses' strength against emergency.</p> + +<p>"Bloody dam-fool! Go back!" Bamjee yelled. But Rana Raj Singh came on +at a gallop, drew rein in a dust cloud and sat silent, waiting for +Blake to speak first.</p> + +<p>Blake told him all that he and Quorn knew.</p> + +<p>There was no pause between Blake's last words and Rana Raj Singh's +order to his men. They wheeled and, like eleven arrows launched out of +eleven bows, they sped back along the course by which they had come, +Blake after them, swallowing dust, and Asoka bringing up the rear in no +great hurry, since the horses' utmost limit of speed was easily within +his scope.</p> + +<p>They rode as a blast of wind goes ripping through the scrub. Jungle, +<i>nullahs</i>, crags and trees went past them like a motion picture, and +the horses were blowing heavily when Rana Raj Singh halted at last in +full view of a building half a mile away.</p> + +<p>It was a domed structure surrounded by a mud-and-stone wall, with +plenty of space between building and wall and some trees in the +inclosure. Considerably less than half a mile beyond it was another +group of trees. Rana Raj Singh pointed to them:</p> + +<p>"Ten of my men are in hiding near those trees. One man is up in a tree. +They have seen us." He waved his right arm. Blake's keen eyes were not +keen enough to read the answering signal from the tree-top, but Rana +Raj Singh seemed satisfied; he turned to Blake again.</p> + +<p>"I waited," he said, "and grew weary of waiting. I did not understand +what was happening in that hermitage, or why the Ranee did not come. A +number of Brahmins came. I was astonished; they had their high priest +with them—an unheard-of thing. They also brought a lot of ruffians +with <i>lathis</i>.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Then I saw the jungle on fire, and no Ranee. So I +left ten men in hiding and rode to see what might have happened. Ah! My +men come."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Ten men armed with lances rode in to view from a depression near the +trees. They formed into a line with wide-spaced intervals and halted, +watching for a signal. Quorn drew as near to Rana Raj Singh as the +nervous horse would let him.</p> + +<p>"Did I hear you say, sir, that the high priest o' them Brahmins is in +that building?"</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh nodded. Quorn slowly moved Asoka forward until he was in +front of all the horses.</p> + +<p>"Me and you won't miss this, soldier! Durn your old hide, but you was +born lucky. A <i>habeas corpus</i> beats an alibi. You <i>habeas</i> the <i>corpus</i> +o' that high priest and a legislature couldn't hang you!"</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh signalled. The men opposite approached, extending their +line as Rana Raj Singh maneuvered his ten to meet them, until they +formed a wide arc of a circle with Asoka in the midst. Blake was at +Asoka's left, Rana Raj Singh to right of him, and for a moment or two +they halted in that position while men's heads stared at them from over +the hermitage wall.</p> + +<p>There was evidently some confusion in the hermitage. Two men who +appeared not to be Brahmins let themselves down from the wall and took +to their heels toward the <i>nullah</i> where the Rajputs had been hidden.</p> + +<p>"Catch them alive," commanded Rana Raj Singh. Two of his men gave chase.</p> + +<p>Then a gate of the hermitage opened and three Brahmins approached, +waving a white cloth. Rana Raj Singh rode to meet them, Blake almost +abreast of him and Quorn on Asoka keeping well within earshot.</p> + +<p>"Halt!" commanded Rana Raj Singh. "Where is the Ranee?"</p> + +<p>Bamjee came to life and knelt up in the <i>howdah</i>, clearing his throat +to shout something, but Quorn cursed him into silence.</p> + +<p>"She is with us in the hermitage," the Brahmin answered insolently. +"She bids you go home."</p> + +<p>Bamjee exploded, Quorn or no Quorn. "Liar!" he shouted. "Your highness, +that man is the go-between who tells Maraj what to do. I know him!"</p> + +<p>The Brahmin promptly played his trump card. "Her Highness the Ranee has +apologized to the high priest and has received his blessing. You are +to take that elephant away and shoot him. The person known as Maraj +has been imprisoned in the hermitage and will be taken to Narada to be +tried and executed.</p> + +<p>"We ourselves will be the Ranee's escort to Narada."</p> + +<p>Rana Raj Singh's men came dragging prisoners. They threw them to the +ground and held them there at the lance-point.</p> + +<p>"Prince, they say the Ranee is locked into a cell. There are forty +more of this sort in there, prepared to defend the place. Maraj is a +prisoner, but the Brahmins have offered him freedom if we attack and he +helps the defense."</p> + +<p>They tied the prisoners back to back by necks, hands and feet. There +began to be a great commotion in the hermitage—an uproar—and another +Brahmin came running, but not through the gate; he climbed the wall, +jumped, fell, hurt himself and limped, hurrying as best he could. He +stammered; it was hard to understand him. Quorn, who could see the roof +of the building better than the rest could, understood first.</p> + +<p>"Hell's bells!" he exclaimed. "Maraj is loose. He's on the roof. He has +turned those other guys against the Brahmins! This guy wants us to go +help the high priest! Can you beat that?"</p> + +<p>"Can you break that wall?" asked Rana Raj Singh.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Always the easiest thing in the world was to start Asoka smashing +things. Quorn's only immediate worry was the risk of damage to Asoka's +head, so he chose the mud-and-stone wall rather than the teak gate and +sent Asoka charging at it like a five-ton battering-ram.</p> + +<p>He heard Bamjee crying, "Oh, my God!" behind him—heard the thunder of +the Rajput horsemen closing in behind him, two by two, to burst through +the gap he should make, saw—through the edge of his eyes—Blake and +Rana Raj Singh slightly to his rear, one on either flank, distinctly +heard and felt the <i>ping</i> of several bullets, thought he heard Blake +answer them, and was dimly aware that a man on the roof was shooting at +him, but kept on missing.</p> + +<p>Then came the shudder and shock as Asoka struck the wall with his +enormous forehead—strained his weight against it—grunted—and a +section of the wall fell inward in a cloud of dust.</p> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""> + <div class="caption"> + <p><i>Then came the shudder and shock as Asoka struck the wall with his enormous forehead.</i></p> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<p>Asoka staggered through the gap. Behind him the horsemen streamed +through, wheeling right and left. And then confusion, in which Bamjee +scrambled to the ground by clinging to Asoka's tail and vanished into +the building.</p> + +<p>Asoka swung a limp trunk, swaying with his eyes shut, more than +half-stunned by the impact. Quorn slipped to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Lean against that wall, you sucker. Keep your feet. No lying down or +you'll kid yourself you're all in."</p> + +<p>For a moment or two he watched the elephant, since that was his first +charge. He decided Asoka would stand there—at the worst he would +hardly stray far—at the utmost worst he might stagger off home to the +elephant lines in Narada; but he was likeliest to stand.</p> + +<p>He left him. There was fighting going on in every direction—horsemen +charging; Brahmins and their own hired ruffians at throat-grips, +some of them rolling on the ground together; other ruffians trying to +climb the wall and being skewered by the Rajput lances; two men in +the gap to guard that, sabering whoever tried to slip through; and a +maniac—a leaping maniac—a prancing, yelling maniac who jabbered in an +unknown tongue as he raced around the parapet of the rambling building, +brandishing an empty Colt revolver.</p> + +<p>"Maraj!" Quorn muttered to himself. "I guess you're my meat!"</p> + +<p>But he had no weapon, nor any notion how he was going to kill the +maniac. He ran all along the building looking for an entrance. There +were dozens of doors, all leading into cells, but he came on a passage +at last that led between two cells into a dark hall under a dome, with +columns to support the dome.</p> + +<p>He saw the Ranee leaning on Rana Raj Singh's arm. The prince's saber +was all bloody and there were several dead men lying around the door of +the cell from which the Ranee had been rescued. The door had not been +opened, it was smashed in, but Quorn had not time to be curious how +that had happened—he saw a stairway leading to the roof.</p> + +<p>It was narrow. Near its summit stood the high priest, taking refuge +there for fear his sacred person might be defiled by the touch of +common mortals—much more afraid of that than of being killed or +injured. In fact, he did not appear afraid.</p> + +<p>Quorn charged up the steps. The high priest retreated in front of him, +dreading that Quorn might bump against him. Three steps backward, and +he bumped into the door that opened on the roof—it yielded, and there +he was out on the roof with Quorn staring at him, until Maraj came +prancing along the parapet.</p> + +<p>The high priest looked afraid then, as Maraj paused, grinning at +him—grinning at Quorn, too: and Quorn cursed himself for a bigger +idiot than any one, because he had no weapon. Maraj twisted the Colt +revolver in his hands, broke it as if his hands were a gorilla's, +dropped it as if he had never been conscious of it. And then human +speech returned to him.</p> + +<p>"The oh, so holy—twice born—high priest—who commanded Maraj to be +tied and—handed over—in Narada—to the judge—and the executioner!"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Maraj glanced down from the parapet. Asoka stood beneath him, midway +between wall and building, shaking his head, but with his eyes open +now. Suddenly Maraj came leaping at the high priest, seized him, +crushed him in a right arm that was like a vise. He caught Quorn with +the other hand and nearly crushed his ribs.</p> + +<p>"You shall come and learn what Maraj knows!"</p> + +<p>Quorn's right hand was free; he rained blows on the maniac's face, but +their only effect was to make him tighten the terrific grip. The high +priest groaned with the agony of in-bent ribs. Maraj hove both of them +off their feet and rushed toward the parapet, mounted it, paused there. +He laughed so loud that even the fighting Rajputs looked up. Shouting +something, in an unknown tongue again, and hugging his captives, he +leaped, feet first for Asoka's back.</p> + +<p>Asoka moved away from under them—by instinct perhaps, intuition, +whatever it is that forewarns animals. Quorn's feet struck Asoka's +forehead, which set all three men turning in the air. Maraj struggled, +clinging to Quorn and the high priest, trying to turn them under him +and break his own fall, but the reverse of that happened; his back +struck the earth. Quorn and the high priest fell on top of him, the +high priest with a broken shoulder and Quorn shaken up but not hurt +otherwise.</p> + +<p>He rolled clear. Then he dragged the high priest free, and swung +him roughly out of reach of Asoka's trunk and forefoot that were +dangerously close.</p> + +<p>Maraj seemed dead—but suddenly he sat up, staring at Asoka. He seemed +to remember something about that elephant.</p> + +<p>Asoka, too, seemed to remember; he rumbled. Then Maraj saw Quorn, and +then the high priest. Suddenly he tried to stand up, but his legs +refused to function, so he rolled—he tried to seize the high priest by +the leg. Quorn spoke quite quietly:</p> + +<p>"There's your alibi, Asoka—soak him!"</p> + +<p>It was only two steps forward—one foot on the belly of the maniac, the +other on his head. Quorn took Asoka by the trunk and turned him around, +led him to where he had left him near the gap in the wall.</p> + +<p>"You win," he said, "you great big lucky stiff! I think you done it in +a dream. I don't believe you know which end of you is your head. I hope +your skull ain't split—you hit that wall a hummer."</p> + +<p>Then the Ranee and the prince, and many Brahmins clustering around the +high priest, some of them bruised and bloody, and every one of them +as nervous as a wet hen because they had been defiled by the touch of +low-caste ruffians.</p> + +<p>The Ranee's voice—a stern note that Quorn had never heard +before—the high priest answering, and all the Brahmins echoing him in +chorus—promises, Quorn supposed—agreements, to be broken when the +time came. Pity she couldn't hang 'em all. He sat down, more stunned +than he had realized he was, his head so swimming that it was several +seconds before he recognized Bamjee with a big ax in his hand.</p> + +<p>"We win, I think," said Bamjee, "both of us! I chopped the door down +while the prince was slaying dragons—six men at least! Oh, my God! I +chopped with all that going on behind me—think of it! But it was I who +released her from the cell—can she forget that?"</p> + +<p>Then the Ranee's voice, the Ranee's sweet young face amid a sea of +others that persisted in whirling around in a circle. Somewhere in the +whirl Blake's monocle and a glimpse of Blake cleaning an automatic with +his handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I thank you, Sirdar Benjamin Quorn. Do you think you could make Asoka +understand how much I thank him?"</p> + +<p>And then Blake's voice: "Gad! I don't know, Quorn—I might—you never +know—I might be able to persuade our government to recognize that +title. Do my best, old fellow—do my best for you at any time!"</p> + + +<p class="ph2">THE END.</p> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Long sticks.</p> + +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77653 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77653-h/images/cover.jpg b/77653-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea47dd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/77653-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77653-h/images/illus1.jpg b/77653-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae44d15 --- /dev/null +++ b/77653-h/images/illus1.jpg diff --git a/77653-h/images/illus2.jpg b/77653-h/images/illus2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..679a050 --- /dev/null +++ b/77653-h/images/illus2.jpg diff --git a/77653-h/images/illus3.jpg b/77653-h/images/illus3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e1578c --- /dev/null +++ b/77653-h/images/illus3.jpg diff --git a/77653-h/images/illusc.jpg b/77653-h/images/illusc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8f12d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/77653-h/images/illusc.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, 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..e7d60aa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook #77653 +(https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77653) diff --git a/alibi_txt.txt b/alibi_txt.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d09242d --- /dev/null +++ b/alibi_txt.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3743 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77653 *** + + + + + Asoka's Alibi + + By TALBOT MUNDY + + _Author of "Ho for London Town!" "When Trails Were New," etc._ + + _Asoka was a mighty elephant, and none could manage him + save Quorn--sometimes; nor was carnival season, in that + mad, seething India border state, the best of those times._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Argosy All-Story Weekly March 9, 16, 23 1929] + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. THE MASTER OF ELEPHANTS. + II. INTRIGUE IN THE RANEE'S PALACE. + III. THE ART OF THUGGEE. + IV. THE BABU AND THE BRAHMIN. + V. LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT. + VI. AT THE FEET OF SIVA. + VII. ASOKA IN HIDING. + VIII. A TRAP FOR ASOKA. + IX. THE LOST RANEE. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + THE MASTER OF ELEPHANTS. + + +"Reckon maybe I'm nutty," said Quorn to himself. "Hell, supposing I am! +So is Narada. Elephants is the only sane folk hereabouts." + +To comfort himself he looked up at Asoka, the tallest elephant in +captivity, whom only he could manage at the best of times. At other +times Quorn had to ride him as a fury rides a typhoon. + +"You, you big stiff, if it weren't for you I'd pull my freight for +Philadelphia and drive a taxicab again. If I might take you along I'd +join a circus. This here circus gives me the willies." + +He was referring to all Narada, not merely the elephant lines. Narada +is close enough to Rajputana to be soaked with a sense of worn-out +history. Treaties and its mountains have kept railroads at a distance, +and the news comes dim, diluted, and distressing, by mail and word +of mouth, so that people are only aware that the world is changing, +without knowing why, or how, or what the changes mean. + +They feel backward, and resent it, but they keep up the ancient customs +for lack of intelligible new ones. Accordingly, for eleven months of +every year Narada is piously miserable; during the twelfth month it +is impiously mad and happy--more or less--always with a feeling that +happiness has to be paid for, and, though the gods are kindly, there +are as many vengeful and resentful devils as there are gods. + +The carnival falls at the craziest season--April, when the heat is +almost intolerable and nobody has too much money, having paid the +taxes and the money-lenders' interest, so there is a fine feeling of +equality, with common enemies to execrate. + +There is also a yearning in common to cut loose and thumb rebellious +noses at authority, so the underpaid and not too numerous police +receive a lesson in self-restraint; a policeman's head, struck by a +long stick, cracks as easily as any one's; the police station is of +wood and would make a lovely bonfire. So the police stand by, while +Narada eats, drinks, dances, sees the sights, marries and gives in +marriage, is irreverent, sings naughty songs, quarrels and makes it up +again, wears out its finery before some of it is paid for, and does +all those things that good books say should not be done--because next +month it must begin all over again working for the landlord and the +money-lender. + +The sun beats down on that exuberant emotion and ferments it, under +the eyes of Brahmin priests, who understand a little of the law of +give and take. The more impertinences now, the more abject the reaction +presently; the little money fines and penitential gifts will mount up +to a huge sum in the aggregate. Meanwhile even the lousy sacred monkeys +feel the will to be amused and steal with twice their normal impudence, +acquiring wondrous and enduring bellyache from plundered sweetmeats. + +Passion of all sorts blossoms, and there are more sorts of it than most +men guess. Scores of species of holy mendicants arrive from all the +ends of India; so do the astrologers, clairvoyants, ordinary fortune +tellers, conjurers, snake charmers, acrobats, sellers of love philters, +preachers, teachers of how to get rich quick and gamblers to show how +swiftly to get poor again, owners of fighting quails and fighting +bantams, story tellers and proprietors of peep shows. Each sort makes +its own noise, and the din adds madness to emotion. + +Murder stalks abroad. Why shouldn't it? Life and death are one, admits +Narada. Death must have its innings. We might even see a murder, and +get excited about it, and help to confuse the police, if we are lucky. +Hot? Yes, horribly. Dusty? Whew! We sweat, and dry dust sticks to us. +But let's go and see the sights, the free ones first. + + * * * * * + +Since the legendary Gunga _sahib_ reincarnated and became Ben Quorn, +and the Ranee made him superintendent of her elephants, the royal +elephant lines have been the finest circus in the world. So Quorn had +thousands of visitors all day long; and because he was homesick for the +gray fogs of Philadelphia he was more than usually kindly. His strange, +agate-colored eyes had frightened people in Philadelphia; but here, +under a light blue turban, they suggested rebirth from the storied +past, so that it was no wonder that people who believe implicitly in +reincarnation should insist he was a national hero come to life again. + +Was he not exactly like the image of the Gunga _sahib_ on the old wall +of the market place? Had he not miraculously tamed the terrible Asoka +when Asoka ran mad through the city? And was Asoka not the name of +the sacred elephant the Gunga _sahib_ rode in the ancient legend? And +wasn't it fun to know how mad the temple Brahmins were, since they had +had to bow to public clamor and admit that the Gunga _sahib_ truly had +come to life in the body of Quorn from Philadelphia? + +Some one--nobody knew who, but some one--had explained that +Philadelphia means the City of Brotherly Love. + +Could the Gunga _sahib_ come from any better place than that? + +So Quorn answered questions and wiped sweat from his face until his +throat was dry and he was so weary that he had to sit down on the +upturned packing case beside Asoka. There he could watch all of his +four and thirty elephants, each under its own enormous tree, within a +compound wall that was carved from end to end with legends of gods and +men. + +Since Quorn came, every one of the elephants had learned new tricks; +and he was generous, he staged a fresh performance every hour or so. +The Ranee was generous, too, or else Quorn had persuaded her; there was +free lemonade in such amazing quantities that the mystery was where all +the lemons came from; and the lemonade was pink, which was a miracle, +but it made Quorn feel less homesick. + +He had always loved a circus--always had loved elephants, although he +never knew why and had never had dealings with them until he came to +Narada as caretaker of some abandoned mission buildings. Accident, +according to his view of it, or destiny, according to local conviction, +had caused him to climb on Asoka's neck one day when he was idly +curious. + +Asoka had chosen that moment to go into one of his panics, had burst +his picket-ring and had run amuck through the city. Quorn had stuck to +him because there was nothing else to do; and when the elephant had +stunned himself at last against a wall, it was Quorn who gave him water +and a cool bath in a garden pond--Quorn who coaxed him back to sanity. + +It was in response to popular clamor, and only incidentally as a +political move against the temple Brahmins that Quorn had been promptly +put in charge of all the elephants. Nobody expected him to make good; +not even Quorn had expected it. Miracle of miracles, his love of +elephants had proved to be a film that overlay his natural genius for +training them. + +And Quorn loved his job. But he was lonely. + +There was only Bamjee with whom to be intimate--Bamjee, the +ex-telegraphist _babu_, who had sat at his instrument and learned +so many secrets, of so many important people, that he had finally +been appointed to the lucrative post of royal purchasing agent as an +inducement to hold his tongue. + +The only other man to talk with now and then was Blake the British +resident, a gentleman so far above Quorn's social standing that, +in spite of mutual respect, anything like intimacy was out of the +question. Actually, at times, Blake and Quorn were suspicious of each +other. + +Secretly, Blake was determined, at all costs, even at the risk of his +official career, to keep the Ranee on her throne and to support her +modernizing efforts. Openly, Quorn was her stanch and loyal servant, +cheerfully willing to run all risks and to defy temple Brahmins or +any one else in her behalf. But Blake's official position as resident +agent of the British-Indian government obliged him to seem critical +and sometimes even threatening, so that the two men did not always +understand each other. + + * * * * * + +As for the Ranee, there was no understanding her at all. Like Alexander +the Great, Cleopatra, Queen Elizabeth and Napoleon, she had blossomed +at the age of nineteen and burst suddenly into full maturity of +intellect and statecraft. The last of her royal race, she resembled a +marvelous flower on a dying vine, whose whole strength had gone into +this last effort. + +Raised within the customary _purdah_ that prevented contact with the +outer world, she had contrived, with the aid of Bamjee, who would do +anything for money, to import books and to learn three languages. +She knew everything that has been printed about Napoleon, Frederick +the Great, George Washington, Lincoln and Grant. She had read modern +novels, and was more familiar with modern views than many people are +who see newspapers every morning. And she had unbelievable courage. She +had broken _purdah_ and defied the temple Brahmins. + +If she had been ugly it might not have mattered so much, but a +beautiful young girl arouses comment, and when she rode through the +streets in breeches with no women in attendance, even those who +benefited by her modern views were scandalized. + +She opened hospitals. She superintended sanitary improvements. She +pulled down rat-infested tenements and built new houses for the poor. +And--deadliest offense--she defied the Brahmins' wrath by refusing to +do penance for having broken the rigid laws of caste. + +In consequence, her throne was rather less secure than if it had been +raised on powder barrels. The temple Brahmins were doing their utmost +to produce anarchy, so that the British-Indian government would have +to intervene and either reduce her to the status of a puppet queen +or, possibly, depose her altogether. Everybody knew that. Quorn, in +particular, knew it. That was why he staged the daily circus. They were +her elephants; they should help to make her popular. + +"Not that them Brahmins won't get her," he reflected. "If not one way, +then another. Poison." He shuddered. He, too, had to guard against +poison. "Snakes. Knives in the dark. Accident. Them Brahmins only has +to drop a hint or two and some crazed ijjit sticks a knife in some one +else. And if she goes, I go--same way probably." + +He looked up at the elephant again. "I'd start for Philadelphia +to-morrow, but for her and you, you lump! Do you know what they'd do to +you if I should up and leave you? They'd order out the troops and the +machine gun." + +That was absolutely true. Nobody but Quorn could manage the tremendous +beast. And Quorn knew that the Brahmins were trying to stir public +opinion to demand the summary execution of Asoka as too dangerous to +live. They hoped by that means to be rid of Quorn; he might go home to +Philadelphia if his beloved elephant were dead. + +Quorn's perfect understanding of that phase of the situation was +another reason for his taking so much pains with the daily circus; he +hoped to make Asoka as well as the Ranee more popular. But he kept +constantly close to Asoka, because Bamjee had warned him that an effort +might be made to poison the great elephant with something deadly +inserted in a tempting piece of fruit or sugar cane. + +Fortunately, Bamjee also was anathema to the temple Brahmins. As the +Ranee's purchasing agent it was he who had suggested buying tons of +liquid disinfectant and a spray, with which even the sacred temple +precincts had been drenched for the protection of the crowds who came +in carnival month. + +To say that the Brahmins were annoyed with Bamjee is to understate +it altogether. They were in a state of fanatical mental constipation +on account of him. Nothing could restore their equanimity as long as +Bamjee was alive and at liberty to pocket ten per cent commissions for +inflicting what they considered outrageous sacrilege. And as long as +Bamjee could pocket ten per cent commission, he would commit anything +under the sun. + +So it was obviously Bamjee's cue to keep Quorn posted as to +developments. They quarreled very frequently about the quality and +price of the corn and sugar cane supplied to the elephant lines, and +Quorn had repeatedly earned Bamjee's contempt by refusing to accept +a percentage of Bamjee's commission. But hardly a day passed without +Bamjee visiting the elephant compound and pausing for a chat with +Quorn. He came now. And, as usual, although he would have hated to have +to admit it, Quorn was glad to see him. + + * * * * * + +"Maraj is in town," said Bamjee. + +"The hell you say! Tell the police." + +Bamjee was a pleasant-looking little man, in a gray silk suit and a +turban of the same color, blinking through platinum-rimmed spectacles. +But he could look as contemptuous as the devil himself. The first part +of his answer was drowned by the noise of a snake-charmer's bagpipe +and the drums of itinerant troupes of acrobats, but presently he came +closer to Asoka and sat on a box beside Quorn. + +"The police would resign in a body," he said, "if they were told to +capture Maraj. Self also. Am get-rich-quick exponent of materialistic +fallacy of me first--fallacy because of risks incurred in course +of same. Like any other speculator, might go broke. Like any other +egotist, might tread on toes of wrong rival and be disemboweled with a +dagger--funeral to-morrow afternoon, and nobody, not even you, to pity +me, because I took too many chances. But there is one chance that I do +not take. I do not monkey with Maraj." + +"Hell," Quorn answered. "One mean murderer, without caste or +backing--who's afraid o' that man?" He knew better, but he wanted to +draw Bamjee. "I've heard say Maraj is one o' them Chandala people--folk +that are reckoned worse than hyenas--ain't allowed in cities--lower +than sweepers--insect-eaters--bums--filthy, no account savages too +skeered to look at you excep' sideways." + +"They are," said Bamjee. "They are worse than that. It may be true that +Maraj is one of them. But have you heard of Thuggee?" + +"Thugs?" said Quorn. "Who hasn't? They were stamped out. They were the +guys who used to wander about the country killing total strangers with +a handkerchief--just for the love o' killing. Am I right?" + +"Yes, but they were not stamped out. They invented another way of +killing, that is all. Death by suicide. There is humor in that. It +is better than murder. He who is murdered is not guilty of his own +death, but whoever commits suicide is doomed to wander endlessly in +total darkness, earth-bound on the lowest layer of the astral plane. +All religions seem to be agreed on that. Even I, who have no religion, +nevertheless believe it. This new form of Thuggee, therefore, dooms its +victim to almost endless misery in an astral madhouse. Maraj invented +it, or so they say. His allies are the Chandala, who are allowed to rob +the bodies and who cover up his tracks and run his errands. You can +guess who his employers are, can't you?" + +"Do you mean them temple Brahmins pay him?" + +"I am not so crazy. And they are so far from being crazy that they pay +for nothing. A hint--that is enough. Not even such a cunning devil as +Maraj could last long unless he had protection. Nothing for nothing. +How does he pay for protection? He acts on hints. He overhears two +Brahmins saying so-and-so is an undesirable. There is another suicide. +Nobody guilty--nobody caught--only a whisper, and the name Maraj is +more dreaded than ever." + +"Do you mean he kills 'em and makes it look like suicide?" + +"Not so. If he is forced to kill he makes it look like accidental +death. Almost always he succeeds in making them kill themselves, and +there is no possible doubt about its being suicide. All sorts of +ways--clever ways. Bullets. Hanging. Poison." + +"Ye-e-e-s. Maybe. But that ain't suicide if they don't know what +they're doing." + +"But they do know. Mr. Quorn, they do know. That is his ingenuity--his +creed--his purpose--his religion. It is not enough for him to kill +their bodies; he must doom their spirits also." + +"That guy seems to be fixing up a lonely future for himself. Even in +hell there won't be many o' his kind. Well, it's pretty near time for +my act. But what's the point of all this? You aren't skeered, are you, +that he'll suicide me?" + +"There is no knowing," Bamjee answered. "Don't say I didn't warn you. +The temple Brahmins are your enemies. Maraj is in town; and Maraj is +more cunning than chemicals that make no noise but work in the dark and +change something into something else." + +"Mind yourself," said Quorn. "I'm going to unhitch this critter." + + * * * * * + +The crowd divided down the midst, making a lane along which Asoka moved +with ponderous dignity until he reached the circular roped arena in the +center of the compound. + +Asoka's mood seemed perfect. He knew that the crowd wondered at him, +and he enjoyed it. He quickened his pace as he neared the arena, as if +he liked doing his tricks, and he commenced the first one before Quorn +ordered it, limping around the arena on three legs. + +According to Quorn, he was the only elephant in the world who could +turn a somersault; he did it three times. Then he walked on his hind +legs; he walked on his fore legs; he played the drum; he lay on Quorn +without crushing him; he picked him up and swung him, as if his trunk +were a trapeze; he sat and begged for biscuits as a dog does. + +He caused roars of laughter by opening an umbrella and sauntering +around the ring, holding it at the proper angle to the sun, with a +two-foot dummy cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. He was so +well behaved that he ignored the oranges the children threw to him +until Quorn told him he might pick them up. + +And last of all--his most hair-raising trick--he pretended to get angry +with Quorn and chased him until he caught him, swung him in the air as +if about to hurl him to the ground, but placed him on his neck instead +and started leisurely back toward his picket under the neem-tree. + +"Not so bad, you sucker. If you make yourself all that popular," said +Quorn, wiping the sweat from his face, "they're liable to forget some +o' your peccadillos, such as smashing up the market place and what not +else. Hey--steady now! Don't spoil it!" + +But a naked fanatic whose type of holiness was dancing with a dozen +snakes twined on his arms and neck had forced himself into the lane +between the thronging crowd and blocked the way, giving a technically +perfect exhibition of the dance of death. The crowd watched spellbound, +making no room on either side of him. + +Asoka began to gurgle. There is no truth in the tale that elephants +fear mice, but some of them fear snakes, like a man in _delirium +tremens_. Asoka hated them; they made him hysterical. Quorn shouted to +the fanatic to get out of the way, but the ash-smeared, naked seeker of +salvation only danced the harder, making his snakes weave themselves in +writhing patterns. He even began to dance toward Asoka. + +Quorn shouted to the crowd to make the fool go somewhere else, although +he knew they would rate it sacrilege to interfere with any one so +holy. He even yelled for Bamjee, knowing that Bamjee had no fear of +sacrilege; Bamjee might have courage enough to whip the fakir off the +lot. But Bamjee had vanished. + +Quorn tried to turn Asoka back to the arena, but the crowd had closed +in behind and on either flank; there was no room to turn quickly. And +suddenly the fanatic flung his snakes straight at Asoka's face. He +might better have pulled the lanyard that fires a cannon. He stood +still, waiting for results, perhaps for half a second. + + * * * * * + +It appeared to Quorn--and Bamjee afterward confirmed it--that during +that half second some one shouted in a strange tongue to the fanatic, +who glanced, as if toward the voice, exactly at the moment when Asoka +launched his charge. + +Asoka may have meant to kill him, or he may have been merely hysterical +and in a five-ton hurry to get home to his snakeless, comfortable +picket by the neem-tree. It made no difference. The fanatic was in the +way. He became a crimson mess that writhed as his snakes had done, +crushed flat where Asoka trampled him in passing. + +Quorn heard mocking laughter and knew he was meant to hear it, since it +was pitched above the din the crowd made, but he did not dare to look +to right or left; he had one purpose now--to keep his elephant from +trampling the crowd that was milling in mob hysteria. + +There were only fifty yards to go, and he discovered that he could +guide Asoka easily. The elephant responded to the least touch. He was +not in one of his tantrums. + +"All right," said Quorn, between his teeth, "that guy committed suicide +and you, you're not guilty o' murder. But who's to prove it? They'll +get the Maxim out and shoot you full o' holes, you sucker! Hell, +no--home's no use to you--keep going! Keep on going! You for the tall +timber!" + +There is nothing on four legs faster than an elephant for half a mile. +Bamjee was by the back gate; it was he who opened it. Asoka charged +through like a gun going into action and Quorn heard Bamjee shout +to him something about Maraj. But his ear only caught the one word, +because behind him the compound was full of the din of the crowd and +Asoka, too, was not moving his tonnage in silence. + +Beyond, lay the open road, dusty and winding between ancient trees that +were the fringe of a forest, and Asoka seemed to know he must run for +his life; but to make sure Quorn emphasized the information with the +goad, the iron _ankus_. + +"Give her the gun now! Step on it! You great big bone-head, think up +your own alibi while you run! And then tell me where to hide you! +Jumping gee whiz, who can hide an elephant?" + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + INTRIGUE IN THE RANEE'S PALACE. + + +Nights are noisier than days when Narada is keeping carnival; and they +are lovelier, because the colored lanterns sway amid a mystery of trees +and the roofs of nearly all the ancient buildings are limned in dim +fire. Shutters are closed; thieves are abroad. But doors are open; +shafts of yellow light cross narrow streets; the passers-by are gaudily +dressed humans at one moment, phantoms the next. + +Friends and their families sit in the doors, adding din to the din. +Men, women, children sleep in any corner they can find, or on the tiled +floor of the market place, or in mid-street, reckless of the traffic; +shadows are avoided for fear of treading on an unseen sleeper, or a +drunken one who might have lost his feeling of inferiority and found +his knife. There is even a certain amount of highway robbery; people +wander in groups, and those who have no friends follow any group that +has the kindness to endure them. + +There was therefore something suspicious and worthy of comment in the +way that Bamjee hurried through the city. He was alone, he avoided +groups as much as possible and he kept in the shadows wherever he +could. He knew Narada intimately, inside out, and yet he wandered +like a lost man and selected streets that almost everybody knew were +dangerous. + +He passed by gambling houses, near which the strong-arm gentry lurked +to rob the winners on their way home. Somebody snatched his watch-chain. + +He was so out of breath and excited that he made the mistake of trying +to elbow his way through a marriage procession. Sixteen sweating +dancers paused from their contortions in the colored lantern light to +hold him while their overseer beat him with a long stick; then they +flung him into the crowd and the crowd bullied him, not knowing who +he was, until he left his gray silk jacket in their hands and escaped +down an alley, where he fell over a sleeping woman, who yelled to her +husband--a lusty peasant, who gave chase, crying thieves and murder. + +Bamjee had to stop and bribe the peasant to let him alone, nor was the +peasant satisfied until reasonably sure that he had all the money in +Bamjee's possession. If he had known Bamjee, and had not been a simple +peasant, he might have suspected that Bamjee did not keep all his money +in one pocket. + +The strangest part was that Bamjee did not head toward his own +three-story house in the bazaar, with its office on the ground floor +and living quarters above, where his family were keeping supper for +him. He appeared to dread pursuit and yet seemed equally afraid of +running into some one who might recognize him. + +When he saw a policeman he ducked down an alley as swiftly as when he +saw a group of temple Brahmins and their attendants armed with staves +to keep the crowd from defiling them with its touch. He avoided all +the temples, yet seemed deadly curious to learn what the crowds around +the temples were discussing; several times he took advantage of deep +shadows to approach and listen. What he learned excited him and sent +him dodging again through shadows. + +It was toward the palace that he headed finally, constantly glancing +over his shoulder, and now and then pausing in doorways to make sure he +was not being followed. He did not go through the main gate, where the +men on sentry duty knew him and the officer was so involved with Bamjee +in intricate schemes for grafting off the public treasury that one +might suppose he would have to be friendly. Friends may be as dangerous +as enemies--especially that sort of friend. + +When Bamjee passed the main gate he took advantage of a four-wheeled, +tented wagon going the same way to screen himself from observation. Out +of breath though he was, tired though he was, he displayed the agility +of a youngster when he came to a part of the wall where stones were +missing and the branches of a huge tree offered means of descent on the +other side. + +However, his wits were tired, too. He forgot that that tree stood in +an inclosure in which a sacred white bull cultivated boredom and a +loathing of all bipeds. The bull was hardly larger than a big dog, but +at least as active and not at all in love with being awakened in the +night. + +Bamjee fell almost on top of him. There was sudden and tremendous +noise. Bamjee went out over the six-foot wall of the inclosure faster +than a monkey, thanking a whole pantheon of gods that he did not +believe in, because his pants and not his thigh muscles had caught on +the bull's horn. + +One pants-leg was still intact; by holding onto the other as he ran, he +could make himself believe he looked presentable. It is what we believe +that matters--until there is collision with a stronger disbelief. + + * * * * * + +He fled like a ghost through the trees in the palace garden, skirting +the portico and the terraces until he reached the servants' quarters +and the back door used by underlings. There was nothing normal about +that; Bamjee, as official purchasing agent with a position to keep up +before the world, had never felt he could afford to be admitted to the +palace by any except the front door. Suspicion reared itself against +him, blackmail springing from it, as naturally as Minerva from the brow +of Jove. + +He was greeted by a _hamal_, which is a kind of go-between servant who +normally does all the butler's work, and gets and deserves all the +blame for whatever goes wrong. The _hamal_ refused to recognize him at +first, although he did concede the advisability of standing in the dark +to talk. Blackmail abhors witnesses as absolutely as nature abhors a +vacuum. + +"I am Bamjee!" + +"By Siva's necklace, that is an easy thing to say and any one might +say it in the dark. But Bamjee _sahib_ has the name of being a liberal +gentleman." + +Bamjee had to feel under his shirt for money, and it was so dark in +that corner behind the butler's pantry wall that he could not see the +denomination of the bills he drew forth. He had to guess. + +He guessed wrong. It was too much money for a _hamal_. + +"Son of an immoral mother, hide that in your belly-band and take my +message." + +But the _hamal_ turned toward the light. He saw a fifty-rupee note. He +hid it with the swiftness of a roadside conjurer. + +"But, Bamjee, _sahib_, my day's work is over. I am not even allowed to +enter the kitchen again until to-morrow morning. Will to-morrow not do?" + +"Do you know what _now_ means? Ingrate! If the nowness of the now does +not make you act swifter than dynamite I will see to it that you have +no job to-morrow morning. You are out--a screech-owl screaming in a +wilderness of debt with a wife on her way to another man's arms and +your children following the chickens through the streets to pick up +food, unless you take my message now! Now, do you understand me? Go +before I beat the teeth out of your head!" + +"But, _sahib_--" + +"Very well, I will make a great noise and summon the butler. I will +tell him you offered to sell me some of the palace silverware for +one-fifth of its weight in rupees." + +"_Sahib_, the butler would demand at least two hundred rupees to take +such a message at this hour. Whereas I, if he should catch me before +I whisper to one of the maids, could bribe him with only fifty. So +give me fifty more and I will do it. Thus I shall have only forty for +myself, because I must give the maid ten--at least ten." + +Bamjee paid him in the dark and was so impatient and excited that he +never knew that he had given the man an extra hundred by mistake. He +sat down in the dark and waited--endlessly it seemed to him, while the +_hamal_ sent the message up in relays to the roof, each relay offering +excuses and objections until the last possible cent had been squeezed +from the man below and the _hamal's_ hundred and fifty dwindled to a +hundred. + +It appeared there was a party on the roof; it was no time to interrupt +a royal lady, even though she was breaking every canon of tradition by +entertaining men in her palace, and of the two men one an Englishman. +Even Bamjee, the contemptuous skeptic, shuddered at the idea of an +Englishman drinking champagne with the Ranee on the palace roof. It +made him repeat to himself the dark names certain temple priests were +calling her. + + * * * * * + +The message reached its goal at last and there was no more lost time. +It might be difficult to reach the Ranee from below, but when she +commanded from above it was as if she pressed an electric button and +things happened. Men leaped to obey. + +A very important palace personage was sent to guide Bamjee up a +labyrinth of stairs and passages; and because his pants were torn he +was supplied with an Indian costume of crimson silk before he was +ushered into the presence, amid a fairyland of colored lights, in a +garden that bloomed in tiled flower beds, where baskets that seemed +to have been fastened to the stars swayed gently in the night air, +drenching it with the scent of musk, and a splashing fountain filled +the air with music. + +There was other music also; women behind a marble lattice-work were +playing flutes; a man was singing the love-song of the bride of +Krishna. Bamjee, stepping out of darkness with the colored lamp-light +on his crimson costume looked no longer like a _babu_; he resembled an +ambassador from Araby, bringing news of caravans loaded with spices and +slaves and jewels. + +He even forgot his nervousness to some extent, because Marmaduke +Brazenose Blake was seated smoking in a lounge chair, dressed in a +black dinner jacket, with his monocle fixed in his eye and an air of +bachelor enjoyment like an aura all around him. It was such a scandal +that Blake should be there that Bamjee grew for the moment almost +superior to his surroundings--almost, but not quite. + +Facing Blake sat Rana Raj Singh, prince of a line of Rajput blood so +purple that its sources--so men say--are traceable to when the gods +made merry on the earth with men and were a trifle more than merry with +the women. Tall, black-bearded, handsome--graceful with the litheness +of a swordsman who can hunt the gray boar with a sword on horseback, +who has lived clean and neither drinks nor guzzles. + +His presence was, if possible, the more scandalous. Blake, it might be +presumed, might hardly understand the horror of the Indian aristocracy +if it should learn that he was sitting _vis-à-vis_ the Ranee on her +sacred roof--and she unveiled. But they would know that Rana Raj Singh +understood the significance, even as Bamjee did. It meant that the +pillars of Indian aristocracy were falling--or else changing; and to +some people change is as bad as decay. Rana Raj Singh was a cataclysm, +not a scandal; compared to his presence there, Sodom and Gomorrah were +a minor incident. + +But the Ranee, even at nineteen, which is a revolutionary age, had not +thrown all tradition to the winds. She had kept its substance, while +throwing away the shell. She had ten of her ladies with her, five on +either hand--surely sufficient witnesses to prove to any jury that she +had not sinned as deeply as Mother Eve, who set the first unveiled +example. + +Nor had she forgotten strategy. Her ladies were as marvelously dressed +as flowers in the early morning dew, but none of them was younger than +herself and some were older; none was as good-looking. Her dress was +the plainest and made in Paris by a magician who knew how youth should +look beneath a hot night sky amid the smell of musk and the rustle of +palm leaves. + +Although Bamjee knew her well, and had seen her often, in that setting +she made his sharp little eyes almost snap from his head, and took away +all his remaining breath. + +"What can it be, Bamjee, so important that you must intrude at this +hour?" she asked pleasantly. But underneath the velvet voice there was +a hint of iron. It might not fare well with Bamjee if his errand lacked +justification. "Speak," she said. "The company will excuse you." + +"Sister of the Starlight, this is terrible and secret news I bring," +said Bamjee. "Is it wise to spread the scroll of evil before strangers' +eyes?" he quoted. + +"Who, then, is the stranger?" she asked him. "Speak, fool!" + +"But, Daughter of the Dew, there are the servants--" + +"Oh, very well." She clapped her hands until the chief attendant stood +before her. "You and the servants have my leave to go until I send for +you again. See that none waits in hiding behind the flower pots--and +now," she said, staring at Bamjee. "What is it?" + + * * * * * + +"The elephant Asoka slew a man." + +"I know that. It is a great pity, even though the man who was killed +seems to have been almost as disgusting a reptile as the snakes that +crawled like vermin on him. I am sorry to say that Asoka will have to +be shot, unless--perhaps you have come to tell me some way out of it?" + +"Playmate of the gods, they are saying that the man who was slain was +Maraj! He was crushed out of recognition. Who shall say it was not he?" + +"Who should want to say it was not Maraj? If such good news is true +your intrusion is justified. We may forgive Asoka." + +"Lioness of Heaven, it was not Maraj! Maraj himself has spread that +rumor and the temple Brahmins are confirming it. Why? Why not? Whoever +thinks Maraj is dead is less on guard against him. Nevertheless, +although the temple Brahmins are helping to spread that rumor, to you +they will make no such pretense. They will send to you to-morrow. They +will say the slain man was a holy one and they will try to force you to +order the troops to shoot Asoka. Why? Because that would cause Quorn +to leave Narada and return to the United States, thus depriving you of +your Gunga _sahib_, who has been so helpful in breaking the Brahmins' +tyranny. This they will do to-morrow, nevertheless knowing that it was +Maraj who slew that fakir with the snakes!" + +"Maraj who slew him? What then had Asoka to do with it?" + +"The man was suicided!" + +"Hell's bells! muttered Blake, and Rana Raj Singh scratched the chin +beneath his beard. + +"How do you know this, Bamjee?" + +"Beloved by the Rishis, if I should dare to tell you--" + +"If you should dare not to, Bamjee--do you wish to resign from your +post as purchasing agent? Do you wish to leave Narada? Do you wish the +auditor to publish the report that he has shown me privately?" + +"Oh, my God!" said Bamjee. "This _babu_ is on the horns of a dilemma! +How do I know it was Maraj who suicided that abominably holy person? I +know it as well as I know I also shall be suicided if it ever leaks out +who told! That very holy person was the man whose poisonous serpents +were employed to slay Ali Gul the Moslem money-lender, whom all hated. +Was he slain? No. He was suicided. Why not? Had he not a mortgage on a +property that the Brahmins said was their property? Was the mortgage +found after his death? No. He also had a mortgage on a property of +mine. Was that found? No. Were any of his papers found? No. How was he +suicided? He was given his choice between taking a living cobra into +his bed that night or being accidentally caused to break a vial of +carbolic acid with his face. And how do I know that? His widow told me. +How did she know? She was in the secret cabinet where Ali Gul used to +hide witnesses to what were supposed to be secret conversations." + +"This story sounds fishy to me," remarked Blake and Rana Raj Singh +nodded, but his nod was neutral. He was possibly confirming his own +estimate of Blake's neutrality. Blake turned to the Ranee. "Of course, +your highness, as your guest I cannot take official cognizance of any +of this. But may I ask to be excused from hearing more. It might be +awkward." + +The Ranee smiled as sweetly as if she were Machiavelli himself +in woman's raiment. Blake, as the official representative of the +British-Indian government, with authority to advise and keep watch +and report, was no bugbear to her--not though on the strength of his +reports the British-Indian government might send commissioners to rule +in her name and reduce her to the status of a puppet-queen. He was a +sportsman and a gentleman--insuperable handicaps in dealing with a +woman who understood both qualities and had the wit to play the game +according to his rules, but with her own rules added. + +"I might need you," she said, gazing at him. "For the present let us +call this a private conversation. Confidential--under the seal of +hospitality. Then, if it gets too serious, I could consent to your +breaking the seal of confidence, without having to tell you it all from +the beginning." + + * * * * * + +Blake should have taken his leave. But he loved her too well, in a +fatherly, middle-aged bachelor fashion. She was too amusing to be left, +and also too likely to do something recklessly behind his back that +might cost him months of letter-writing to his government to explain +away. He was lazy and hated writing letters. His purpose was to keep +her on the throne in spite of her own recklessness, and in spite of +all her enemies, if he could manage it by any gentlemanly means. He +repeatedly risked his own good standing with his government to cover +the strategic errors due to her inexperience. + +"Highly irregular," he said, frowning. "However, I will stay if you +wish." + +And then came Quorn--at first a message from him, saying he was +downstairs in the front hall threatening mayhem to the palace servants +who kept him waiting there. + +"Daughter of the Dawn, he uses strange oaths, yet he is not drunk." + +Then Quorn himself, treading the heels of the servant sent to bring +him--Quorn in his turban, with a ready-made blue serge jacket on over +his Indian costume, and in his right hand the _ankus_ of office, +the iron hook with which he normally controlled Asoka's ponderous +movements. Servants standing near him shuddered at it. The Ranee +dismissed the servants. + +"Miss," he began, then hesitated, being vague on the subject of +etiquette. Besides, Blake's presence bothered him. He liked Blake, but +he was too much a restraining influence on the Ranee to be suffered +without some resentment. Also he knew that Blake disliked that form of +address to a reigning Ranee. + +The Ranee nodded. She liked Quorn to call her miss--it sounded so +enormously more honest than titles such as Bamjee and her servants +used. She valued Quorn more highly than a dozen Blakes, and at that +without robbing Blake of credit. It is only fools and knaves who +undervalue one man because they recognize the different merits of +another. She was neither a fool nor more of a knave than any statesman +has to be. + +"Yes, Mr. Quorn?" + +"You heard what Asoka done, miss? 'Tweren't his fault. He was behaving +gentle as a lamb. That there holy feller went and beaned him with a +raft o' snakes that would have made a temple statue throw a fit. And +mind you, it was done a-purpose. Some one laughed. Maybe you don't +know the kind o' laugh I mean! There's Brahmins at the bottom of it, +them there temple Brahmins. I've been home to clean up, miss, and my +Eurasian servant Moses had an earful for me. They've been bragging to +him--told him now you'll have to order out the Maxim squad to shoot +Asoka first thing to-morrow morning." + +"Have you any suggestions to offer, Mr. Quorn?" + +"No, miss--excepting, if you will pardon me, miss, and no insolence +intended--I'd as soon they'd shoot me first. I couldn't tell you, miss, +how much that critter means to me. And he weren't guilty. No, miss, +he didn't even throw a tantrum. He was same as me or you if we'd had +poison snakes thrown at us. + +"And the devil who did it had time to get out o' the road, too. He +was one o' these here fanatics. He chose that way o' dying. Miss, it +wouldn't be fair to shoot Asoka--not for that." + +"Where is Asoka now?" she asked him. + +"Miss, I've got him hid." + +Because she was young and not yet spoiled by life, the Ranee did not +sigh relief, she smiled it. It was Blake who sighed. Rana Raj Singh +grunted. + +"I have heard of hiding needles in a haystack," said the Ranee. "Are +you sure that no one knows where you have hidden him?" + +"No, miss, I ain't sure of nothing. But I'm reasonably sure." + +"How will you feed him? Can't they follow you when you come and go?" + +"That's just exactly it, miss. I want leave of absence, please, and +some money." + +"My steward shall give you money. Yes, you may have leave of absence." + +"There was something else, miss." Quorn glanced sidewise at Bamjee, +whom he trusted at any time about half as far as he could see him. + +But the Ranee had a trick of trusting untrustworthy people in the same +way that some people skate on thin ice, going where others don't dare +to go. It pays if you can do it; and if you can't you only drown, so it +doesn't matter. + +"Listen to this, Bamjee," she said. "Listen well. It would do your +credit with me no harm if you should happen this once--this first +time--to be loyal and secretive." + + * * * * * + +Bamjee smirked a protest of his loyalty. He bowed acknowledgment of +trust. He opened his eyes and snapped his mouth shut, symbolizing +secrecy. He threw a chest. Manfully he held his hands behind him. He +deceived the Ranee as thoroughly as a child deceives its nurse at +hide-and-seek. + +"I will order the treasurer to hold up for the present all the money +due you for commissions," continued the Ranee. "And now, Mr. Quorn, +what is it?" + +"This, miss. Them there Brahmins. I figure you're number three on the +Brahmins' list. They mean to get Asoka first, me next, and then you. If +they can force you to order Asoka shot, that gets rid o' me automatic. +I'd go home. You could get along, o' course, without me, easy. + +"But you can't afford to have them Brahmins bragging they put one over +on you. So I'm here to say I'll stand by you and take all chances o' +black magic, and snakes, and this here murderer Maraj, if you'll okay +me." + +"What do you mean--okay you?" + +"War, miss! War to a finish! Back me until I get this guy Maraj and +prove him on the Brahmins! Flynn ain't my name. I'm no Pinkerton or +Burns. I'm plain yours truly with his goat got and his dander good and +riz. There won't be no widow or orphans if they get my number. I wrote +my will the other day. I named Asoka; he's to have my bit of insurance +money. If Asoka dies first, then it goes in a lump to the feller that +gets the crook who killed him. Only, if Asoka should be executed, then +the money goes where it can do the most harm; I've named a gang of +reformers in the States who'll make more trouble for the Brahmins with +my bit o' money than Asoka himself could if he tore loose at one o' +their celebrations. So that's that, miss. Are you in on it?" + +She nodded. Blake looked nervous; he knew the danger of what Quorn +proposed. + +Rana Raj Singh, thrusting his jaw forward, stroked it, running his +fingers through his beard. + +"My God!" said Bamjee. "You bequeath your money to an elephant?" + +"Mr. Quorn," said the Ranee, "I appoint you my special agent to +investigate Maraj and his association with the Brahmins. You may kill +him wherever you find him. You may give whatever orders you please. You +may employ the troops, the police, my palace servants, Bamjee--any one. +I will put that in writing and sign and seal it. If any one refuses to +obey you you may have him put in prison. If you catch Maraj or kill +him, and if you prove he was in any way associated with the Brahmins, I +will raise you to the rank of _Sirdar_ and I will use what influence I +have with Mr. Blake to get the British government to confirm the title. +Does that satisfy you?" + +"Yes, miss." + +"What else? You seem to have something else on your mind?" + +Quorn looked straight at Rana Raj Singh--very straight indeed, but +he could see Blake's face at the same time, and he knew better than +vaguely what was going on in Blake's mind. + +As an independent prince without a fortune, but with a tremendous +reputation, who was modern enough to woo the Ranee in the modern way, +Rana Raj Singh would be a deadly dangerous spark to plunge into the +magazine of local politics. His interference might provide excuse for +riots. On the other hand, he had a handful of Rajput followers, than +whom there could not possibly be better and braver or more willing +experts at hunting a murderer down. + +Rana Raj Singh slowly rose out of his chair. He nodded at Quorn. He +smiled at the Ranee, showing wonderful white teeth. He smiled at Blake. +Then he nodded at Quorn again. + +"You will need help," he said. "I will provide it. You may order me, +too." + +"Oh, my God!" said Bamjee. + +That was reasonable comment. When a prince, whose pedigree is older +than the proudest European king's, submits himself to the disposal of +a man of an alien race, whose business is training elephants and whose +pedigree dates from just before the time when births in Philadelphia +were legally recorded, it is thinkable, even by Bamjee, that the two of +them are first-class men. + +Blake actually dropped his monocle, and had to screw it in again. The +Ranee's ladies fluttered with astonishment. + +The Ranee looked with wondering eyes from Quorn to Rana Raj Singh and +then back again. Quorn stiffened himself, caught Rana Raj Singh's eye +and answered him with four words: + +"Sir to you, sir." + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + THE ART OF THUGGEE. + + +Say this for England: a Residency is a place where any one is safe, +no matter who he is nor why he has taken refuge. Since '57, when they +held the Lucknow Residency against as long odds as were ever laid +against a garrison, it has become a part of India's superstition that +a Residency is inviolable. + +The upper classes recognize it as an embassy or legation, with all +that implies; the lower classes don't reason about it, but even the +criminals respect it as a sanctuary, where life at any rate is safe +until the law determines otherwise. No violence in Residency grounds. + +"Quorn," said Blake as they left the palace, "I'm going to take you up +behind me on my horse and ride you to the Residency. I've a notion you +may have been followed here, and they may be on the lookout for you. I +will talk with you--unofficially--after we reach my quarters." + +Blake's whaler mare behaved abominably, not being used to the weight +of two men, and Quorn was no horseman. They clattered on the stones +beneath the guardhouse gate: they plunged and lunged along the street +outside, shying at every shadow; and they made so much noise that all +Narada might have heard and seen and recognized them. + +However, nothing happened, and Blake's servant, running alongside, +reported that, as far as he knew, they were not being followed--until +they left the zone of partially lighted streets and plunged into the +pitch-dark lane between high walls that led toward the Residency +compound. There the servant fell and smashed his lantern. + +Blake reined in, and Quorn jumped down to help the man. He could hear +him sobbing. He groped for him in total darkness, finding him--feeling +him just as the sobbing ceased. He could feel two men. They were both +dead. + +"Got a match, sir?" + +Blake passed him a box of matches. Blake's Moslem servant, Abdul, lay +dead of a knife wound. He was lying prone on another man, who lay face +upward and who seemed to have been dead for quite a little while before +Abdul tripped and fell belly downward on the long, razor-edged knife +whose hilt was in the dead man's hand. + +"But there's another, smaller blade below the hilt, sir," Quorn +reported, striking match after match. "It's one o' them there weapons +that can be used as sword and dagger. The shorter blade is stuck into +the dead guy's stomach; that's what held the knife upright. + +"Yes, sir, Abdul is stone dead. The long blade passed clean through +him--there's three inches of it sticking out of his back. If you should +ask me, he couldn't fall that hard. I'd say not. There's something +tricky about the way the lamp was smashed--as if it was knocked out of +his hand on purpose. Would you care to look, sir, if I hold the horse? +It looks to me as if some one jumped on Abdul's back and forced him +down on the knife." + +"Are you positive he's dead?" asked Blake. + +"As dead as mutton." + +"Well, the thing to do is to get his body to the Residency. Which shall +it be? Will you run on and bring back any of my servants you can find? +Or will you wait here while I gallop and get them?" + +"Go ahead, sir. That's the quickest. Do you pack a gat, sir?" + +"Do I do what?" + +"Carry an automatic?" + +"No, confound it. Here, are you sure both men are dead? Get up behind +me then and we'll both go. That's safer." + +"No, sir, I'll be all right. I'll stay here. You hurry." + +It was Blake's off night. No human being ever lived who did not make +a murderous mistake at one time or another. Blake rammed in his spurs +and thundered down the dark lane like a whole troop of cavalry. He made +enough noise to drown the shouts of ten men, and his own shouts, to his +servants, as he neared the Residency, were enough to deafen them to +any noises Quorn made--not that Quorn made any. + + * * * * * + +He hardly knew what struck him. He felt a stinging blow from behind and +smelled the misty stench of a burlap gag that was thrust into his mouth +and wrapped around his head. + +He struck out blindly with his fists, but hardly felt his wrists seized +and pinioned, hardly felt his ankles being tied before he became +unconscious from the blow--or perhaps from some drug with which the +gag was soaked; it tasted beastly. He had seen nobody; he had heard no +sound; he could not even swear that a cry had escaped his own lips. + +He recovered consciousness within a dark room and lay listening to +voices that, for a long time, seemed to be inside his own head. It +seemed to him he was home in Philadelphia. His taxicab had been in +some sort of smash-up--his first. He felt ashamed, and afraid for his +license. After awhile he shook off that feeling, but the voices seemed +to come from another world--inhuman, without emotion, hollow. + +At last, though, he was able to recognize a few words in the local +native tongue, but it was a long time before he could make any sense of +what was being said. There was an argument--hot on one side, ice cold +on the other. One man was urging action, to which the other appeared +insolently indifferent. + +"If you don't kill him now--" + +"I know my business." + +"He is probably listening!" + +"Let him." + +"Can't you understand that the Englishman, Blake, will raise such a hue +and cry that--" + +"I have understanding. I am not in need of advice from you." + +"By Jinendra's nose, I am not giving you advice! I order you!" + +"Order somebody who will obey you--some priest, for instance. I am no +temple rat." + +"Too much success has made you insolent." + +"No. I was always insolent." + +"Suppose we should turn against you?" + +"That is not hard to imagine. You are sure to do it sooner or later. I +am not afraid of you. You know why. Cease talking. You annoy me. It is +not safe to annoy me." + +Some one took a cover off a lamp. The light hurt Quorn's eyes; he shut +them for a moment. When he opened them again a man was squatting beside +him, gazing at him. He was a man with a big head, crowned with a shock +of shaggy hair that seemed to have been bleached to the color of new +manila rope. + +He had dark eyebrows and a shaggy, dark beard and mustache that half +hid and yet exaggerated the coarseness of a big mouth, around whose +corners a sort of humor lurked. His nose was coarse and honeycombed +with pock-marks. His big, full, deep-set eyes had humor of a sort too, +but it was cruel humor; they would have been splendid eyes if they had +had more color, but they were so light--gray, blue, green perhaps--as +to look hardly human. + +"Why do you not go to the United States?" + +It was the bored voice that had pleaded insolence. Quorn lay still, +trying whether he could move his wrists and ankles, wondering whether +he could break the man's neck if he had his arms free. He felt an +impulse to kill. + +Quorn was a man who had almost never raised his hand in violence; +certainly he had never contemplated doing murder; he would have been +willing to bet all his money, at any time, that he never would commit +murder, and would never wish to do it. Yet he felt now he would almost +rather kill that man who gazed at him than go on living. There was +nothing to argue about, he just wanted to kill him. + +"Do you wish ever to see the United States again?" the man asked him, +in the same cold, incurious voice. + +Quorn did not trust himself even to try to speak. He was working hard +to regain possession of his senses, which recognized, in the man who +was talking to him, something vaguely suggestive of his own peculiar +influence over animals. + +Nevertheless, he had never pretended to understand that influence; and +this man's was not quite the same, it seemed reversed, although to save +his life Quorn could not have explained the difference. Black magic +was the thought that came into his mind. His head felt woozy, and he +knew that was only partly due to the blow, only partly due to the drug +he still tasted; there was still something else that he felt he could +fight and overcome. + +"Understand me," said the man, and he spoke English with only a trace +of accent, "you are physically at my mercy--absolutely. I can kill you +slowly or quickly, however I please, in my own time, in my own way, for +my own pleasure. Sit up. I will show you something else." + + * * * * * + +He seized Quorn's shoulders and raised him until he sat with his +back propped in the corner of a wall. His strength appeared to be +prodigious; it produced in its victim a sense of helplessness that had +nothing to do with the cords around wrists and ankles. It was like the +strength of machinery. + +"There is a fool here," he said, "who has wearied me." + +Quorn discovered it was painful to turn his head; however, he managed +it, and decided he had not been badly hurt. He was in a small +square room with whitewashed walls. The only furniture was heaps +of gunnysacks, that looked rat eaten, and a small glass lamp on an +upturned packing case. Another man sat on a heap of sacks, whom Quorn +recognized at the first glance as the individual used by the temple +Brahmins as go-between, whenever they had business with persons with +whom their caste forbade them to associate--a man in a long yellow robe +with a variation from the Brahmin caste-mark on his forehead--a sort of +bastard Brahmin, a metaphysical eunuch, authorized to touch defilement +in the name of holiness without infecting his masters. + +"You shall watch him die." + +As if he had been shot out of a catapult the other man made headlong +for the door. But the door was locked. + +"You would escape from Maraj? In what way are you more clever than all +those others? Come here." + +His panic-stricken effort having failed, the man seemed paralyzed by +fear. He turned ashen gray, trembled, unable to speak. The man who had +called himself Maraj reached out with his right hand, seized him by the +ankle, twisted it, drew him forward, changed his hold to the shoulder +and hurled him back on the heap of sacking--all with one hand and +without much noticeable effort. + +"I will not kill him. He shall kill himself." + +At those words the man found speech at last. He jabbered, stuttered, +threatened, pleaded--until his voice died to a meaningless mumble and +his jaw fell. + +Then Quorn spoke for the first time: + +"Out with the light, you idiot!" + +The advice came too late. The Brahmin did make a move toward the lamp, +but the other man seized his ankle and twisted it again until he +screamed and struggled like a landed fish. Maraj then put the lamp up +on a beam; he had to stand on the box to do it. + +"It is time to die now," said Maraj. "Which way do you prefer? +Painless, of course. They all seek painless ways, as if that made any +difference! Die! Do you hear me? Kill yourself!" + +He turned to Quorn: "The poor fool threatened me. He had the impudence +to order me. He said he would betray me unless I slew you out of hand. +He could do it, too; he could have betrayed me easily if I had let him. +But he hasn't much intelligence. Let us see which way he chooses." + +He sat down close to Quorn and waited, watching his victim, who seemed +several times as if going to speak--and as if then the uselessness of +speech occurred to him. He even seemed to try to summon dignity, but +found none. + +"What will you do?" Maraj asked. "You have no knife--no rope. How will +you kill yourself?" + +Quorn spoke again, surprised by the impersonal aloofness of his own +voice, that sounded as if it belonged to some one else. + +"Why not have a crack at killing _him_, you idiot!" he heard himself +say to the terrified prisoner, "I'll help you if you'll loose me some +way." + +Maraj chuckled. "Why not?" he suggested. "Would that not be suicide? +Try killing me!" + +The man found speech again. Quorn's voice seemed to have stirred lees +of manhood in him. He spoke in the native tongue cold-calmly, every +word a concentrated curse. + +"You offspring of all the dogs that ever lay in filth! You soul of +stinks! You carcass of--" + + * * * * * + +He rushed him suddenly--and died that instant. He who had called +himself Maraj stepped sidewise with the skill of a toreador in the +arena. No eye could have followed the speed of the silken handkerchief +that licked across the man's neck and killed him infinitely more neatly +than a hangman's rope. + +It left no mark on him. It severed him from life; and was out of sight +again before the knees could yield under his weight and let him begin +falling to the floor; and yet he fell as if there never had been life +in him nor any bones to keep him straight. + +"That is the art of Thuggee, so-called," said Maraj. "Isn't it +brilliant? In a world where so many forms of death are messy, what do +you candidly think of a so-called government that tries to stamp out +and abolish such a mystery as that? Mind you, it is a mystery. It is +more than an art. + +"You couldn't learn it--not in fifty years--not even though I should be +fool enough to try to teach you." + +He rolled the body over with his foot, then sat by Quorn again. For a +moment or two he paused as if turning over matters of importance in his +mind. Then: + +"Don't you think they ought to make me public executioner? It would +make me so happy. It would save them so much trouble. Often I make a +victim really kill himself, but that fool's fear was of the sort that +is not easy to control. He was not sentimental. You are. Where have you +hidden your elephant?" + +"He ain't mine," Quorn answered. + +"Liar--or else imbecile! You have no bill of sale for him; therefore +he is not yours, eh? Show me a bill of sale then for the death you +will presently die! Will it not be your death? Ownership! Where is the +elephant?" + +"He belongs to the Ranee. Ask her." + +"You mistake me, I think, for a worse fool than she is. Your Ranee's +hours are numbered. I said hours, I should almost have said minutes. +These pretty ones--young ones--they taste sweeter on the teeth of death +than carrion like that thing." He kicked at the corpse on the floor. +"Does she love life? Will she cling to it? Ah, then what a sacrifice +to death! Mn-n-n--what an offering! You love her, don't you? And that +elephant loves you? Ah! You shall kill her. Then you shall see me kill +the elephant. Then I will kill you. Perfect! Look at me." + +He peered into Quorn's eyes, leaning over him. If he was human he +hardly seemed so. Mania, as if it were a monstrous spirit from another +plane of consciousness, had entire possession of him--a monster to whom +death was life and cruelty was beauty. + +[Illustration: _Maraj glared at him--a monster to whom death was life +and cruelty was beauty._] + +Not for nothing had Quorn handled elephants in all their moods; he +recognized the likeness of the thing that seized Asoka now and then. +Only this was more developed--had more intelligence. He had thought +of it, when Asoka threw his tantrums, as the spirit of one of nature's +cataclysms, weary of blind energy and seeking a sensual outlet. But +this man seemed to have the spirit of all evil in him. + +"Death is a devourer--hungry. One must feed death daily, if he wants to +live. Keep death fed full--and live forever! Hah! Feed life--and die +forever! But you are too silly to understand that. I understand it, +that is the point. You shall obey me!" + + * * * * * + +Quorn lay still. He was thinking elephant. How did he manage Asoka +when the fits of frenzy seized him? Let him run--offer him no +opposition--hang on and wait and pretend to be one with him, seeking +the same goal with the same wrath. Pretend to encourage him. Get him to +use his strength against some obstacle that did not matter. Get him to +exhaust himself, and at the first chance get him to believe he had done +all his havoc by request. It had worked all right; the tantrums were +fewer nowadays. Something of the same sort might work now--maybe--a +bare chance--worth trying. + +"Hell!" said Quorn. "What's all the yawp about? Do you kid yourself +you're tough because you kill a few poor suckers? Yah! You don't know +what tough is! You should see 'em where I come from." + +"You mistake me," said Maraj. "I have been where you come from. +Toughness has nothing to do with it. The tough ones die the easiest. +They love life and they dread death, though they think they don't. They +dread passion; therefore they are its slaves. I love passion; therefore +it is my slave, even as a woman who is properly loved is the slave of a +man." + +"Aw, hell! That's talk. I've heard 'em on a soapbox handing out a +better line o' yawp than that--bolshevists and such like. Show me. +Talk don't mean nothing. I can't teach a guy to drive an automobile by +singing songs to him. I got to show him. Show me. I won't believe a +word of it until you show me." + +All the East asserts that there is no such thing as luck, yet Quorn had +stumbled on something that the men of science labored for a century to +find--and doubted then. To save his soul he could not have analyzed +it or have put it into plain words. What he knew, by the change in +the maniac's eyes, was that he had touched off something that might +presently give him the upper hand. He had gained time. He had flattered +cunning. Cunning proposed to magnify itself before it had its climax. + +"Why not show you? Knowledge increases suffering. Suffering is cruel. +Cruelty is the delicious essence of all nature. It is essence that I +seek. I find it daily. Do you understand me? Essence." + +"Hell," Quorn answered, "any fool could understand that. Essence? Huh!" + +"You are ignorant, but I will teach you. Ignorant men don't suffer +much, not even in this world, under torture--although I know tortures +that are exquisite, and I will show you several. Suffering increases as +the square of knowledge. Do you know what that means? The suffering of +this world is as nothing to the infinite agony provided in the next. +Those who suffer genuinely here take with them an increased ability +to suffer. They add to the hell--to the hell--to the hell! Do you +understand me? Spiritual, mental, infinite, eternal hell! Ah-h-h! So I +shall show you, I will teach you. You shall not go forth in ignorance. +You shall be a delicious morsel for the spiritual fiends of torment. +What does this life matter when you have eternity in which to revel in +the blistering, nervous dissonance of death?" + +"It don't matter a damn--not a damn," Quorn answered. "That's an easy +one." + +"Where is your elephant?" + +"I can find him for you any time. Say, all you've said is talk so +far--lower grade stuff. You've got me interested, but you haven't +proved a thing. I saw you kill that sucker, but, hell--that weren't +much; I could have killed him myself with half a brick. You show me +something A-1--genuine magic. I'll name the stunt--you do it. If you +win, I join your gang. How'd that be?" + +"You will be my disciple? You will yield your soul to me? You will try +to learn what I shall teach? Hee-ee! That would be amusing. You will go +mad, but never mind. What do you wish me to do?" + +"I'll set you an easy test. Put one over on them temple Brahmins. Put +it over on 'em good, mind. Trick 'em--trap 'em--show 'em up--bring +shame on 'em--reduce 'em to a common joke. Then set yourself in +place of 'em--me under you. I'm game if you are. The folks say I'm +Gunga _sahib_ come to life; that ought to make it easy if you have +imagination. Maybe you haven't--you haven't showed me any yet. How +about it?" + + * * * * * + +There was a long pause. Maniac imagination thrilled itself with +ecstasies of vision--Brahminism going the way of all things mortal, +only in an agony more awful than any sane man could invent. Watching +the maniac eyes, Quorn played his trump: + +"'Fore I'd reckon you worth learning from, I'd have to see you out +from under them temple Brahmins' influence. Hell, they've been giving +you orders. They've been claiming they protect you. Yah! I'm not the +thousandth o' what you are, yet I wouldn't let that gang claim they was +protecting me. I'd show 'em different. You show 'em where they get off, +and I'll join you, elephant and all." + +Maraj looked keenly at him. Quorn's face was as innocent as any +actor's. The blind spot that is in the brain of every maniac, however +supernormal his intelligence may be, permitted vanity to smother +cunning. + +"You'd better let me go and get my elephant," said Quorn. "Come with me +if you like," he added, noticing a sudden constriction of the irises of +the madman's eyes. "Then you make all the plans, remember. This ain't +my problem, it's yours. I'm yours if you work it out right. Anything +you say, I'll do, barring that I don't have to kill nobody until the +temple Brahmins quit, and fire a lee gun, and haul their flag down. Get +me? After that I'll kill as many as you say." + +"Tell me," Maraj leaned over him again. "Do your wrists hurt? Does the +cord cut your ankles?" + +If the East is right and there is no such thing as luck, perhaps luck +is a form of genius. Again Quorn stumbled on the key to freedom, though +he paid a high price. + +"Yeah, it hurts fine. I like it," he answered. + +"Hee-ee! You do? You like it? Try this. Is it exquisite now?" + +He knew where to touch the nerves that carry torture to the brain. +Quorn writhed, but the lamp threw shadow on him. Maraj had rolled him +over on his face. Quorn's quivering and grunting might be masochistic +ecstasy. + +"You will do, you will do for a pupil," said Maraj. He cut the cords; +Quorn almost sobbed with the relief. "That is not a bad beginning. I +can teach you. You shall learn that pain is the only pleasure. Go now. +Go and find your elephant." + +"Are you coming with me?" Quorn asked. + +Sudden fury seized the maniac. "You witless idiot!" he shouted. "Who +are you to dare to question me, your master? Do you think I need to +watch a fool like you? Can you escape me? Try it! Go before I--" + +He made a gesture as if to produce the handkerchief with which he could +kill with such consummate art. Quorn staggered to the door, in torture +from his rope-raw ankles. It was locked. His wit deserted him; he could +not imagine what to do. He glanced at the glass lamp on the beam. With +his ankles in that shape could he jump up from the box and smash the +lamp, and take a chance in darkness? He decided he would try. + +He had gathered his strength for the spring when he heard voices. +Something on the outside struck the door. He heard the hinges give. +He saw Maraj spring, swinging for a moment like a monkey on the +beam--spring like a monkey again and break an opening, feet first, +through the thatched roof. Blake burst in then--Blake and half a dozen +servants. It was like a dream. + +"Here you are, eh? Hurt much? Had a hard time finding you. Hello--who's +dead? Well, I'll be damned--another murder, eh? Oh, look out +there--catch Quorn, or he'll tumble. Lay him on that sacking." + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + THE BABU AND THE BRAHMIN. + + +Rats are credited with instinct that enables them to leave a ship +some time before it sinks. Bamjee had perhaps evolved beyond that +animal characteristic without losing the desire to practice it. He +was as fearful and as fearless as a rat--as full of cunning and +as energetic--as suspicious and as keen on testing information for +himself. What he lacked in actual intuition was compensated by peculiar +alertness. + +He was not at all afraid of venturing so near to a trap, or even into +one, that a sneeze or a sigh would have snapped the spring. But he was +difficult to catch. And being an incredulous, irreverent, observant rat +he understood the ways of temple Brahmins--which is more than quite +a number of the Brahmins do, since, like the rest of us, they are, +generally speaking, lazy and accept as truth much untruth as their +seniors believe it wise to tell them. + +"My God!" said Bamjee to himself, when he had shed the palace finery +and once more held his silken pants-leg as he flitted through the +palace shrubbery in quest of secret foothold on the palace wall. "My +God! If she should order that cursed auditor to tell the truth about +me--Krishna! Women in authority are worse than men. They are more +cunning. They are willing to let themselves be cheated, so as to have +you by the short hair. And they hang on--dammit! Dammit! Dammit! On the +other hand, should she lose her throne, this _babu's_ job is gone. The +auditor would see to that; I should have paid that scoundrel a better +percentage--maybe--maybe--but beggars on horseback ride you down. To +hell with them. And if she wins this battle with the Brahmins she will +probably dismiss me anyhow and try to find an honest man for my job. +There aren't any. She will ruin herself learning that the honest men +are too big fools to be trusted. But that won't help poor Bamjee. This +_babu_ must climb on fence, part hair in middle for balancing purposes +and be ready to jump kerplunk into the arms of either side with +nuisance value well established." + +For a beginning he climbed the palace wall in total darkness, leaving +his pants inside the palace grounds. He did not propose to go home yet, +partly from fear that his movements might be traced. It might not +matter if they were traced, but-- + +"If I should choose to qualify the truth a little, it might be awkward +if some liar knew where I actually went. I can do my own lying, thank +you. And it costs less." + +So he found a small storekeeper who owed him money and who felt +flattered by being aroused from bed by such an important personage. To +him he told a long yarn about having been stripped by thieves-- + +"And if it were known that such bad thieves lurk in your neighborhood, +where there is only your shop and a few stables, you might find +yourself in bad with the police, who would come and search you--and you +know what that means! So you had better say nothing about it." + +He bought several yards of cotton cloth and dressed himself native +style. He also bought a cotton turban, wrapping the silk one carefully +around his body underneath his shirt, and into that he tucked his +remaining money. + +"Now perhaps I can venture homeward without being robbed," he remarked +to the storekeeper; and having started homeward because he was sure the +storekeeper would watch him out of sight, he made a circuit and went +hurrying in the opposite direction. + +His goal now was the Pul-ke-Nichi--the long, narrow thoroughfare on the +far side of the city, that dipped down between two mounds, on which the +temples of Siva and Kali stood, connected by an ancient bridge. He had +no fear of not finding Brahmins awake. + +"Two things would wake them anyhow," he told himself, "the chink of +money; and the least little whisper of smelly, secret news--they love +it." + + * * * * * + +He was tired to the bone, but he solved that problem. To the pious +horror of the temple Brahmins the Ranee had recently installed a modern +hospital in that part of town in charge of a young Sikh doctor, who +was nothing if not keen on getting cases. There was a motor cycle +ambulance, and a night bell. + +Bamjee rang the bell, gave a false name and told circumstantial details +of an accident. He offered to show the way to where the victim was, and +the doctor decided to drive the ambulance himself; his presence on the +scene, instead of the ignorant ambulance man, might save the victim's +life. + +So Bamjee lay in comfort in the ambulance while the doctor drove +at full tilt through the city, missing the legs of sleeping men by +inches, clearing the way with his horn and breaking all the rules of +even reckless driving with a confidence in destiny and disregard for +risk that would never occur to any one except a Sikh intent on winning +laurels for himself. + +And in the dark trough of the Pul-ke-Nichi, where the bridge cast +pitch-black shadows and there were too many sleeping nondescripts for +even a Sikh to take that chance of killing some one, Bamjee stepped out +of the ambulance to find the supposititious victim-- + +"Compound fracture of both thigh bones, doctor, and the ribs of both +sides--one arm broken also, and perhaps internal injury--a very +interesting case." + +That was the last the doctor saw of him. He slid into a shadow and +followed it beside the ponderous wall of Siva's temple. + +There he was challenged. Two men in yellow robes ran out and blocked +his way. They scurrilously mocked his glib confession of sinfulness and +a desire to meditate on the omnipresence of death in life and life in +death. They called him a casteless miscreant, who might go and mock his +lady mother on a dung hill. So Bamjee was obliged to change his method. + +"Business," he whispered, "with the high priest! You are undoubtedly +'twice born,' both of you, to make you twice as stupid as you look, +but you had better tell the high priest Bamjee is here. Yes, Bamjee! +Yes, Bamjee--the man who caused your temple to be defiled with +Johnson's Jubilee Germ Exterminator! Bamjee with a message for the high +priest--sounds important, doesn't it?" + +There was whispered consultation. One man took the message and the +other stayed. There followed prickly silence for a space of fifteen +minutes, broken into irregular intervals by the impatient honking of +the Sikh doctor's horn, until the messenger returned. + +Bamjee was to be admitted--not into the temple, but into the cell +across the courtyard in which virtually unclean visitors were sometimes +as an act of mercy, blessed through a hole in a wall of the temple +basement. So he was soused with water that had been treated by +incantation, hustled across the courtyard along a row of flagstones +that were also immunized against the tread of ritually unclean feet, +and thrust into a bare stone chamber. Bamjee shuddered as the door +slammed shut behind him and he heard the bolt slide home. + +"Oh, my God!" he said. "What a man won't risk to save his neck!" + +On three or four walls little lamps were burning, leaving the door in +shadow. In the wall that faced the door there was a round hole, showing +that the masonry was ten feet thick; the hole was trumpet-shaped, its +small end inward; Bamjee did not dare to examine that very closely +until he had blown out two of the three lamps and adjusted the wick of +the third. + +"But they will hardly dare to kill me," he reflected. "Nobody knows I +was not seen to enter here. Phuh--death is an unpleasant topic--let me +think of something else." + + * * * * * + +He examined the stone chamber. There was no window. He could hear +nothing except his own blood surging in his veins. He crept close to +the wall and peered very cautiously into the trumpet-shaped hole, but +could see nothing; it appeared to be closed at the far end. However, +presently he heard a shutter slide in iron grooves at the end of the +hole in the wall. A voice spoke angrily, complaining that the lamps +were not properly lit in the chamber. Another voice offered to send an +attendant to light them. + +"No, but discover whose fault it is. Impose a heavy penance. Go now. +Close the door." + +"Is that the most holy and reverend twice-born confidant of gods and +treasurer of wisdom who presides over all the Brahmins of this temple +to be an example to men and a blessing to the world?" asked Bamjee. +"Humbly then I kiss feet. Humbly I ask blessing." + +Through the hole came the mumbled perfunctory formula. Then: + +"Who are you and what do you want?" + +"All-wise, I am Bamjee bearing bad news." + +"Because, for the sake of your pocket, you defiled this temple, you are +doomed for a thousand lives to be a blind worm in the belly of a dog!" + +"I know it! I know it! I sinned and the sin is on my head. (_Dog of a +Brahmin! Humble am I? You shall pay for it!_) But may I not commence to +purge my sin? (_Purge your own, you old tyrant!_) This _babu_ has had +sudden change of heart. Some god has probably observed what wrong this +_babu_ did (_You old devil, I'd like to drown you in a tub of sewage!_) +and stirred an impulse to do better and to make amends. Oh, Most +Wise--_Muddle-head_--if this _babu_ has wrought evil, you yourself will +do worse evil unless you give him opportunity to make compensation for +his ill deeds! Am contrite! Am able to do valuable service. Am, above +all, ab-so-lutely bent on telling truth and nothing but truth. Pity me +and listen!" + +"You shall be heard." + +The shutter squealed back into place along its iron grooves and there +was silence again so almost absolute that Bamjee knew he would go mad +if it should last long. He could hear the noises in his head that are +so quiet and so intimate that we are unconscious of them until real +silence stimulates hearing and imagination invents mysterious reasons +for them. Silence is no sedative. It arouses self-analysis. But in +Bamjee it also aroused a saving sense of humor. + +"Yes, am rogue undoubtedly. Am that sort of person. But it takes +_all_ sorts of persons to make a universe, and I did not create +myself--unfortunately. Had I done so this poor _babu_ would be +billionaire--most estimable personage, with lickspittles by the +dozen to say to him, 'Yes, _sahib_' and 'marvellous' and 'such +high-mindedness'! Instead of which, even these rascally Brahmins dare +to call me a low-minded nasty crook! No, this _babu_ did not build the +universe. Not guilty! And by Krishna, who is a legend, and by Ingersoll +and Bradlaugh, who lifted themselves by the seat of the pants in order +to prove there are no such things as miracles, these noises in my head +will give me religion unless I watch out! Ah!" + +Somebody was coming. The door bolt rattled. Bamjee was himself again, +and by the time the door opened he looked like an idol made of hardened +india-rubber, squatting with his back against the wall. + +"Such hospitality! Such courtesy!" he exclaimed. "You have a mat for +yourself, I see. Bring two mats. This stone floor is not salubrious to +sit on." + +The partly opened door slammed shut again. + +"High priest is one thing," Bamjee remarked to himself. "High priest's +deputy assistant walking alibi is camel of a different smell. Noose +that would neatly fit neck of high priest would not make finger-ring +for expert alibi. Must use ax--verbally that is--plus irritant. An +irritant deputy assistant alibi is good--as ginger under horse's +tail--will kick his master into difficulties. Now then--" + + * * * * * + +The bolt rattled again. A temple servant entered, threw a mat on the +floor and walked out. Bamjee spread the mat and sat on it, resuming his +look of molded impassivity. + +A Brahmin entered, well-fed, rather athletic-looking, haughty, with the +self-esteem derived from a monopoly of wisdom, carrying his sacred mat +under his arm. He spread the mat as far away from Bamjee as he could +and sat down, muttering incantations calculated to preserve him from +contamination. + +"I kiss feet," Bamjee murmured with almost as much perfunctory +insolence as the Brahmin conveyed with his answering, equally formal, +blessing. + +"You are a spy," said the Brahmin. + +"I am," said Bamjee. That admission rather took the Brahmin's breath +away. He blinked perceptibly. There was a long pause. Presently: "You +have the impudence to try to spy on us?" + +"Have? No. Had? Yes. No further need. Have found out what is necessary. +Business of bargain now." + +"Miscreant! Who would bargain with you?" + +"Any sort of half-wise, sanctimonious sweeper of crumbs of sanctity who +did not want to pass up any wise bets." + +"Do you know what happens to fools who are disrespectful to the +Brahmins?" + +"I know what happens to Brahmins who shut their eyes to opportunity. +They are just like other people--only more so. Esteeming themselves +higher they fall harder and it hurts worse. This _babu_ is versed +in several theologies, including atheism and relativity--perfectly +familiar with theory that all is illusion and nothing provable. Am +possibly a hypothetical assemblage of imaginary atoms, saying nothing +to nobody in a vacuum abhorred by nonexistent nature. Nevertheless, +you kid yourself you are somebody very important. Self, am pragmatist +with positivistic tendencies that tell me your fall from your high +place would hurt your imaginary feelings more than my fall from my low +place could hurt mine. So you had better get down off that high place. +It is much more comfortable down here." + +The Brahmin scowled. Special sanctity can endure all inflictions except +ridicule. + +"Concerning what do you wish to drive a bargain?" + +And now Bamjee showed genius. He knew he had pitted himself against +a system--a morass of metaphysical influence that could swamp any +individual as surely as stone age swamps yielded and smothered the +mastodons' strength. He who would prance upon swamps requires agility +and wit. Metaphysics must be met with metaphysics; bludgeons are no use +whatever. + +"Lost in mazes of speculative philosophy, this _babu_ seeks something +to which to cling--something that somebody else thinks is solid, +even if it isn't. If we are all kidding ourselves, why not do it in +easiest possible way. You may be right. Your teachings may be right. +If they are wrong, it doesn't matter, and if they are right then the +sooner this _babu_ accepts them the better, not only for me but for +you also. If it is true that you have power to bless and curse, I buy +blessing! With money? No. Money is imaginary and evasive symbol of +gross materialism--much too difficult to get--and of no importance to +one of your sanctity. This _babu's_ services, however, are for sale, +also without money payment. In other words, with swap. My definite and +dangerous deeds in this world, against your hypothetical assistance in +the next! + +"Am, like English Prime Minister Balfour, an honest doubter, doubting +own agnosticism and afraid of consequences--if any. Shamelessly, +therefore, will sell to you, in this world, now, if there is such a +thing as now, all secrets of Her Highness, the Ranee, insofar as they +are known to this _babu_, together with this _babu's_ allegiance--in +exchange for forgiveness of past offenses and recognition as eligible +candidate for preferment in after life, if, as, and when. Something for +nothing--maybe. But your nothing may be something after all. If so, I +want it." + +"You speak like a man possessed by devils." + +"Many devils. Mad ones. Some so devilish that if you refuse to accept +my repentance and to put me on favored waiting list of applicants for +spiritual bliss, I will certainly be much more devilish and instead of +working against the Ranee, I will work against you. Instead of telling +you what I know about her, I will tell her what I know about you. In +other words, if I can save my soul, I will; but if I am to be damned, +there shall be no more damnable enemy of sanctity, living or dead, than +myself. So now you know. Forgive me, bless me and use my services--or +look out!" + +"Blessedness can make no bargains." + + * * * * * + +"Too bad. Blessedness will wish it were cussedness before I have +finished, in that case. I am not afraid of you in this world. It is the +next I am thinking about. You can, of course, detain me if you wish, +and I know there are dark dungeons somewhere, into which inconvenient +enemies of Brahmins vanish. Oh, yes, indeed. I even know where those +dungeons are. And I know the names of individuals who have vanished +into them. But I did not come here alone, and if I fail to reappear +within a certain time there will be reprisals." + +"Liar! You came in an ambulance. You gave a false name to the doctor +who brought you. You are a servant of the Ranee and an accomplice of +that impostor Quorn, who calls himself the Gunga _sahib_. Quorn--even +at this minute--is meeting the fate he deserves. You? For you, what +evil destiny is bad enough?" + +"Oh, well, no use talking to you. Let me go," said Bamjee, covering his +agony of fear under a very well-acted cloak of indifference. Cold sweat +was bursting out of every pore in his body and he felt sick at the +stomach, but he looked belligerently insolent. + +The Brahmin rose, rolled up his mat and made a signal on the teak door, +rapping with his heavy finger-ring. The door opened and the Brahmin +stood back to let Bamjee precede him. + +"To your doom!" he remarked in a strange, startling voice. "Never enter +this temple again!" + +"Sanctity first!" said Bamjee with a mocking bow of abject reverence. +He waited. The Brahmin waited. At last the Brahmin shrugged his +shoulders, began murmuring a _mantram_ nasally, like an angry swarm of +hornets, and led the way out. + +His signal, it appeared, was misinterpreted. A long stick, swung with +strong hands by a man who hid beside the wall on tiptoe, came down +like a pole-ax on his shaved crown. It broke the stick. It cracked his +skull. A second stick, from the opposite side of the door, descended on +him before the blood had time to burst through the broken skin or his +knees had time to give beneath him. Then he fell like a steer and his +blood went pouring on the paving-stones. + +The apparition--the white, whirling specter that seized half the broken +stick, leaped over the body and dived into the darkest courtyard +shadow--was Bamjee. One of the men beside the door gave chase--until a +shadow leaped to life and the point of Bamjee's broken stick so nearly +disemboweled him that he rolled in silent agony, his knees on his +chest. Somebody shouted to the men on guard to close the outer gate. +There was a clash of chains, the hinges squealed and the gate shut with +a clang in Bamjee's face. But it was pitch-dark by the gate. None saw +him. + +"Seize him!" a voice shouted. + +"Too late--too late!" came the answer. "He escaped us." + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT. + + +One reason why Brazenose Blake had been picked for the post of British +Resident in Nerada was his genius for official inertia and strictly +unofficial action. He could be incredibly indiscreet and get away with +it. + +A more meticulous observer of precedent and the proprieties would have +sent for the police. Blake searched the dead Brahmin's clothing, asked +Quorn all the questions he could think of, left the Brahmin's body +lying in the hut and took Quorn to the Residency, where, the moment he +arrived, he sent a galloper in search of Rana Raj Singh. Then he gave +Quorn a carefully measured dose of whisky, personally rendered first +aid to the tortured wrists and ankles, bit the end from an expensive +cigar, sat down and waited, with his feet on the veranda rail. + +"No use getting excited," he said. "You've twenty minutes, Quorn, to +lie still and remember all that happened. When Rana Raj Singh comes, +you can tell the whole story to both of us at the same time. Save +breath and exertion." + +So Quorn fell asleep, which was exactly what Blake intended, and when +Rana Raj Singh came thundering down the lane at last--only a sound in +the night--black suit, black boots, black beard, on a black horse--and +drew rein like a landslide at the front door, Quorn had recovered to +a point where he could tell his story almost as it happened. But his +account of Maraj was understated; he was afraid that if he told the +whole truth, and described the maniac whose picture had been burned +into his brain, neither Blake nor Rana Raj Singh would believe a word +of it. + +"That's all," he said at last. "The next best thing is for me to get +back to Asoka before he busts loose and comes looking for me. He's +liable to look good. He knows he's only got to shove down a wall to see +what's t'other side." + +But Blake had not finished yet. "I found this," he said, "on the dead +man's body." He unfolded a slip of yellowish paper and passed it to +Rana Raj Singh. "Will you read it to us? Do you mind translating it?" + +Rana Raj Singh carried the writing to the lantern that hung from a hook +on the porch and studied it, stroking his beard, looking almost like +a disembodied phantom because the unusual black suit that he had put +on shaded imperceptibly into the darkness, offering almost no outline. +Then he strode back. + +"Temple jargon," he remarked. "A sort of slang in shorthand that the +Brahmins use for confidential communications. It appears to me to mean: +'M'--that may stand for Maraj--'bungled elephant affair. Faquir killed +uselessly, since no rioting occurred and Quorn escaped on elephant. +Find M and tell him he must finish Q'--that is Quorn, I suppose--'or +coöperation must cease.' I suppose it means they intend to denounce him +unless he kills Quorn. It might mean that. I can't think of anything +else it could mean." + +"Cinch," said Quorn abruptly. "You keep that, sir, and let's pretend I +have it. Them Brahmins'll try all the harder to get me, and we'll trap +'em that much easier." + +He watched Blake fold the piece of paper in his wallet. Then he turned +to Rana Raj Singh: "Maraj ain't far off. He's as mad as Nebuchadnezzar +the king was in them Bible times. But maybe they didn't teach you about +Nebuchadnezzar, sir. Anyhow, he's mad, and he's got it all set in his +mind to make a devil out o' me. So if you watch me you'll get him +easy. But that won't get them Brahmins all compromised up with him the +way we want. My thought is, sir, that madmen maybe are like any other +kind o' mad critter--one idee at a time but covered awful cunning, so +it maybe looks like just plain random cussedness, whereas it isn't. Get +me? + +"This guy's got it in his head to prove himself superior to Brahmins +on all points. He's all set to take a fall out o' that gang that run +Siva's temple. They've used him for a heap o' dirty work and me, +I heard that dead guy threaten him. They mean to double cross him +whenever it suits 'em, and Maraj, he knows it. What's more, he figures +two can play that game. So the Brahmins have it in for him and me; he +has it in for me and the Brahmins. The Brahmins want to get me first +and then him. He wants to get the Brahmins first and then have a good +time turning me so crazy that even Satan 'u'd feel jealous. 'Tain't +worse than a crossword puzzle. We ought to be able to work it out." + +"The thing to do," said Rana Raj Singh, "is to follow you and kill him +the first moment he shows himself." + +"You'll pardon me, sir, if I talk back?" + +Rana Raj Singh nodded. Blake bit another cigar, scowling. All three +listened for a moment to a noise outside; it was difficult to guess +where it came from, but it might have been close to the compound wall, +a hundred yards away. + + * * * * * + +"If that is Maraj," said Rana Raj Singh, "I expect we have him. Ten +of my men followed me. They are rather good at approaching a place +silently." + +"'Twould be a sin to kill that sucker and let them temple Brahmins +get off free," said Quorn. "I'm mean about 'em. Maybe it ain't good +manners, sir, to mention your young lady, but she's my employer. I +think such a hell of a lot of her I'd take a long chance for her sake +and I've no sort o' use for swine that 'u'd try to make her kill a +decent elephant. I'd go the limit--and there ain't no limit--just to +down her enemies and leave her sitting pretty. I know her as good as +anybody does. She'd say, 'Take all chances, Mr. Quorn, and let's win +this! Don't let's have another drawn game?' That's what she'd say. +Can't I get you, sir, to see it that way?" + +Rana Raj Singh's white teeth showed in a slowly widening smile. + +"I am afraid you have my promise, Mr. Quorn. You may command me. I +obey!" + +Before Quorn could think of an answer to that a peculiar whistle--high +C, B, C sharp--thrilled out of the darkness not far off. Then a horse +tripped on a stone and stumbled. Rana Raj Singh answered the whistle, +vaulted the veranda rail, leaped on to his black horse and was gone +like a galloping ghost. + +Suddenly: "What's that, sir?" Quorn asked in a low voice. + +"What?" demanded Blake. "What d'ye mean? Where?" + +Any man's hair would have stood on end, and his blood run cold. The end +of the veranda was some fifteen feet away, screened by woven wire and +hung with creepers. Lamp-light, streaming past the edge of a carelessly +drawn blind, made a fan-shaped, milky opalescence in which a tangle of +wire and creepers were clearly visible. + +Something as irresistible as destiny was tearing that tangle +apart--opening it, as curtains are opened down the center. There was +hardly any noise. Then, in the midst of the opening, full in the +lamp-light, grinned a face--a human face, inhuman as a nightmare. + +"God!" cried Blake. "Who is it?" + +He mastered himself. He had no weapon. He forced himself up from his +chair, and the face vanished. Blake strode toward where it had been, +and stood there staring at the broken strands of wire and of creeper +that would have been difficult to cut through even with an ax. + +Quorn watched him--until a hand came through the veranda railing and +seized Quorn's leg in a grip that checked the flow of blood. It checked +speech, paralyzing like the cold-iron grip of nameless fear. + +Then the face of Maraj came up out of the dark--and the lips of Maraj +smiled upward--and the eyes of him gleamed at Quorn. They were like +an animal's and Quorn knew they were watching Blake alertly even +though they stared so straight into his own eyes. Then the lips moved +and a voice that was hardly a voice at all, and yet that carried as +distinctly as sounds carry in dreams, said: + +"Get your elephant and meet me--" + +There was no time for him to finish. Blake was turning, starting back +toward his chair. Horses were coming--clattering, cantering, scattering +stones, making as much noise as Rajputs always do when they are done +with ghostly silence. Quorn felt the blood flow again as the grip +ceased from his leg. + +"Thought we had him," said Rana Raj Singh, vaulting from the saddle and +throwing his reins to a man who galloped up from behind him. "One of my +men saw him, another heard him, but he gave us all the slip." + +"He was here not a minute ago--there--at the end of the veranda," Blake +said. "I distinctly saw him." + +"Hell, I felt him!" said Quorn. "Look at this." He held his leg toward +the light and drew his trousers up to show the marks where the maniac's +hand had gripped. "He ain't far off." + +Rana Raj Singh whistled all his men and there began a hunt amid the +shrubbery that bade fair to lay Blake's garden waste. Blake ran to the +other end of the veranda and slammed a window shut, then ran into the +house and locked it on the inside. As he came out he slammed the door +and turned the key. + +"Fine howdy-do if she should bolt into the house!" he remarked. "Why +haven't I a dog? Goldarn it! Never again will I live without a decent +dog. Why, even a terrier would--" + + * * * * * + +He vaulted the veranda rail and vanished into the darkness to help Rana +Raj Singh and his companions search the shrubbery. Quorn heard the +click of the Colt revolver that Blake had brought with him out of the +house. + +"Too bad if they get him yet," he muttered. "We've a first rate +chance, if we use it right, to teach them Brahmins a lesson they won't +forget--not in _her_ time." + +He sat considering the Ranee and his duty to her, wondering whether +it was possible, in these democratic days, to be the benevolently +autocratic ruler that she aspired to be. He knew there are more +than a hundred different kinds of government in India, ranging from +a theocratic despotism to the fringes of fascism and socialistic +experiment. + +"Tyrannies, all of 'em," he muttered. "Maybe she can do it." He spoke +louder than he realized--and suddenly he almost leaped out of his chair. + +"Of course I can!" a voice said quietly behind him. + +It was the Ranee herself, in riding-breeches. He jumped to his feet, +but it hurt his ankles, so he leaned against the railing. + +"No, you are not dreaming, Mr. Quorn. You talk aloud so often to your +elephant that you think aloud when you are alone. It is dangerous. And +those others all talk at the top of their voices, which is foolish; but +people are ruled by being foolish, not by any wisdom in their rulers. +Have you heard of Haroun-al-Raschid--and Peter the Great--and Amir +Abdurrahman? Each of them was his own secret service. I follow in +their footsteps, in some respects. + +"Do please be seated, Mr. Quorn. I came when I learned that Rana Raj +Singh had been sent for, and I have been listening. Maraj was within +three feet of me--he even touched me without knowing it. Mr. Blake +looked straight at me through the hole that Maraj made in the trellis. +How blind men are unless they know what they are looking for! I heard +what you said. Have you anything to tell me that you haven't told those +others?" + +"Yes, miss! You go home! This ain't no place or time o' night for +pretty ladies with a throne to lose! Who came with you?" + +"Nobody." + +"No guards nor nothing? I'll be sugared! The President o' the United +States can't move around without he's watched, and he's supposed to +live in a safe country. Prince Rana Raj Singh--what will he say?" + +"We will soon know," she answered. "I hear him coming." + +Blake came up the steps to the veranda. Rana Raj Singh caught sight +of the Ranee in the lamp-light and vaulted out of the saddle over the +veranda rail. His gesture as he stood before her was inimitable, +blended of an Old World courtesy, a lover's privilege, anger, +self-control, a sense of outraged dignity, and hopelessness of ever +teaching her the elements of common sense. But he was too steeped in +dignity to reproach her in Quorn's presence. + +Blake had less compunction. "You?" he said. "At this hour? Have you +come to claim protection? No? What do you suppose my government will +think of a queen of your age who runs such personal risks in darkness? +Don't you realize your enemies will represent--" + +Her musical answering laugh disarmed him. "I came for sport!" she said. +"Politicians are fogeys, but is there any need to lecture Mr. Blake on +sportsmanship? Rana Raj Singh is another story. Listen!" She laid her +right hand on the Rajput's. He seized it and the slumbering fire in his +dark eyes leaped into passion, but he subdued that. + +"When your ancestors in Rajasthan went forth to war," she said, "who +held the castle? Women! When your ancestors were slain in battle and +the enemy laid siege, who defended the castle? Wives and sweethearts! +If a woman had not held your castle against the Mahratta hordes, she +ever in the front rank of the fighting, until her son was born and the +Mahratta army gave up the siege in weariness--would you be alive to +frown at me to-day? You talk to me, and rightly and proudly you talk +to me, of the ancient deeds of Rajput men and women. Would you have +me something less than they were? This little war we wage against the +Brahmins of Narada--is it something that should make a coward of me? +You--on whom I count to help me make my throne a power and my people +free!" + +He bowed dramatically, with a hint of half-grudging good humor. Not +yet officially recognized as even her future consort, he was hardly in +any position to restrain her. Besides, her logic was not answerable. +Logic is exasperating stuff, which women never use unless they wish to +defend their illogical intuition. Rana Raj Singh stiffened himself, a +grim determination to stand by and face whatever consequences she might +bring down on himself and herself simply bristling from him. + +"Danger and death are nothing. It is how we die and how we meet danger +that counts," he remarked. + +"This is neutral territory. Let us talk things over amicably and make a +good plan," said the Ranee. + +"Neutral be damned!" Blake muttered. He had his eye on a shadowy +perpendicular pen-stroke in the darkness--nothing more important than +the pole on which, by day, the British flag was raised. He wondered +how many treaties and laws were being broken, using his neutral veranda +for a jumping-off place in a raid on Brahmins. + + * * * * * + +"After all," said the Ranee, "it is me they are after. Quorn and Asoka +are pawns they think they have to take before they catch the queen. I +wish I knew where Bamjee is. I might send Bamjee to the temple with +misinformation that should cause those Brahmins to trap themselves. +Bamjee is crooked and unreliable, but I can depend on him to do the +wrong thing at the right minute. If you know what somebody will do, +then you know yourself what to do. But where is Bamjee? No, he didn't +go home. I often have Bamjee watched; it pays. But he didn't go out +through the palace gate, so the watcher hunted for him and found his +trousers lying near a place where an active man could climb the wall. +Bamjee is up to mischief." + +"So is Asoka, miss, I'll bet you!" Quorn retorted. "I hid him good, +but he won't stay hid long. He has hay enough, but he'll miss me and +he'll miss his warm cakes. Folks with long noses like his have a way o' +getting so darned inquisitive that rope won't hold 'em. And the rope +weren't none too up-to-date. Rats had et some of it. How will I get to +him? I can't walk." + +"Do you think Maraj would follow if you should go on horseback?" the +Ranee asked. "He heard him order you to get your elephant and meet him. +Did he tell you where to meet him?" + +"No, miss, he was interrupted." + +"He is very likely listening to us now," said Blake, leaning out over +the veranda rail to peer into the night. + +"No," said Rana Raj Singh. "We have searched every bush and shadow. He +escaped, but my men are watching. Not a rat could get past them. He may +be lurking outside their circle, but he is not inside it." + +"Very well then. Somebody give Mr. Quorn a horse," the Ranee ordered. +"Let it be a tame horse, one that he can sit on even if he can't ride. +And let somebody give him a big white turban and voluminous white +clothing, so as to make him unrecognizable. Be sure you shorten his +stirrup leathers--otherwise a child would see through the disguise. +Let Mr. Quorn go to his elephant and two or three men follow him on +horseback at a distance, taking care not to appear to follow him. If +they are half wide-awake, they may capture Maraj. If the Brahmins are +watching Quorn, some Brahmins might be caught, too. If we had the luck +to catch Maraj alive, and two or three Brahmins as well, and lock them +into one room--and listen--" + +"Don't trust luck. Luck is always with your enemy," said Blake. "Two or +three men--could they take that many prisoners? It might take more than +three of them to hold Maraj, even supposing they could catch him and +tie him." + +"I will follow Quorn," said Rana Raj Singh, "and I will take eight men. +Let the others be your escort to the palace. It is no man's business to +ask me whither I ride at any hour, day or night, so if any one asks--" + +"Take all your men," the Ranee interrupted. She looked appraisingly at +Blake. "Would Mr. Blake mind riding with me to the palace?" + +"Honored. Shall we go now?" Blake answered promptly. He wanted her +out of the residency before some spy should recognize her and send +secret reports to the Central Government that might keep him writing +explanations for a twelve-month. + + * * * * * + +"And if this plan fails us?" asked the Ranee. + +"Which it will," Blake interrupted. "But it's a good plan, because it +sends you back to the palace out of danger." + +"If it fails us, there is this: the Brahmins are sure to send a +deputation to me in the morning to demand the execution of Asoka and +probably, too, the dismissal of Mr. Quorn. I shall refuse, of course, +and that will make them far more irritated than they are already. I +will publicly arrange to send Asoka to the old hermitage beyond the +river. That will be a challenge to them; they claim the hermitage as +theirs, whereas it isn't. I will ride Asoka to the hermitage, and I +will ride rashly without my soldiers. That should tempt the Brahmins to +occupy the hermitage and to attack me on the way, or to cause others +to attack me, as is more likely. Rana Raj Singh will provide them the +answer to that!" + +Suddenly she turned to Rana Raj Singh--touched his hand again. "You and +I have quarreled, because I rode from my palace at night, unattended, +to the residence of Mr. Blake, who is a bachelor! You are leaving +me--riding away in disgust with all your men! I will spread that story. +All Narada shall have heard it by to-morrow noon. So you shall be a +surprise to the Brahmins. Watch Quorn--keep yourself and your men under +cover--let Mr. Blake know where you are, so that he can find you or get +a message to you without any one suspecting you are in secret touch +with me." She smiled at Blake. "Everybody knows that Mr. Blake would +never stoop to interference in local intrigue, so no one will suspect +him--not even his government." + +Blake winced. Smoking in a powder magazine is a sane, safe and +comfortable form of self-preservation in comparison to overstepping the +bounds of diplomatic privilege in India. However, he who coined the +motto "safety first" forgot that safety is the enemy of all adventure +and of all things new, as well as of the ancient virtues such as +chivalry. + +"Oh, damn!" said Blake. "Well, go on. What next? I'm in for it." + +"Each to his task," said the Ranee. "I go home. If any of you happens +to see Bamjee, don't be too rough with him, but send him to me at the +palace. Good night, Mr. Quorn. I hope your ankles and wrists will soon +get well again." Suddenly she remembered she had made Quorn her special +agent with full authority. "Is the plan all right? Is it a good one?" + +"Yes, miss. Good as any other, I guess." + +"Very well then, it stands. Mr. Blake, shall we let them ride away +before you take me to the palace?" + +Ten minutes later she bowed to convention enough to let Blake hold her +stirrup while she swung into the saddle. + +Less than thirty seconds after their backs were turned--almost before +the lamp-light ceased to gleam on their horses' quarters--Blake's +office window was gently raised and a man stepped out on the veranda. +One of Blake's servants saw him, started after him. + +The man waited and the servant rushed him. The man stepped aside. A +silken handkerchief flickered almost too fast for human eyes to follow +and the servant fell face forward, separated from his life as if +electric energy had drawn his very nerves into itself. He did not move. +He made no sound except the thump of falling. For a second the owner +of the handkerchief stood on the rail of the veranda, holding to an +upright, listening. Then he leaped into a shadow and was gone. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + AT THE FEET OF SIVA. + + +Siva's temple stands on Siva's breast, which is a hill. Kali is the +dreadful bride of Siva. Kali's temple stands on Kali's breast, which is +another hill. + +An ancient bridge unites the two, and underneath the bridge the +Pul-ke-Nichi runs--a narrow street between the hills, a few feet higher +than the level of the temple basements, which were excavated century +by century until the hills are like honeycombs and no man--except +certain Brahmins--knows the secret of the interlacing tunnels or how +deep the dungeons lie in the foundations below the basement and the +courtyard level. + +Nobody knows what happens in the dungeons, or has happened in them. +Certainly Bamjee did not know, although he had boasted to the contrary. +He only knew that the courtyard where he stood was almost at street +level, but between him and the street was a teak door, possibly a foot +thick, that exactly fitted a ponderous arch and frame of cyclopean +masonry. There was no escape by that route. + +Crouching like a rat in the shadow he listened. He heard the gate-men +say he had escaped. He heard them reprimanded, heard the order given to +keep the gate locked until morning--worshipers were to be told to enter +the temple by the small door on the far side of the hill. Bamjee's +problem was to get into the temple, in which there was never an hour +of day or night that did not see somebody, and normally a number of +people, meditating or clicking rosaries and chanting _mantrams_. From +the temple he could walk out through the small door unobserved. + +There were two chief difficulties, of which the more immediate was the +danger of crossing the courtyard. There was no guessing how many temple +attendants lurked in the pitch-dark shadows; it was a hot night and +every one off-duty probably had spread his mattress under the stars. + +"And such dogs sleep with one eye open," Bamjee muttered. + +However, it had to be risked. Another difficulty was that he had +dressed as a low-caste nondescript who had no business within those +sacred walls. A caste-mark did not matter; that would be invisible at +night, but the huge white turban and the flowing cotton garments were a +problem. He had to solve that first. + +He remembered the silken turban he had coiled around his waist, and the +thought of that reminded him that he still had money tucked away. + +"Could buy a high priest if I had enough," he muttered. "How much have +I? It feels like five hundred rupees. I remember the time when that +much would have bought me five times over. I was always better than two +Brahmins. That is therefore ten times too much for a Brahmin's honor. +He must therefore throw in something. Courage, Bamjee-bhai! If you can +escape from this place there is no reason why something besides dirt +should not stick to you. I think those gate-men have gone to sleep." + +He could hear one of them snoring; of the other he was not so certain. +However, he contrived to strip himself stark naked without making any +noticeable sound. Then he bound the silken turban on his head and, +timing the sound to the snores of the sleeper, he tore the cotton +sheeting until he had enough to make one simple loin-cloth, which he +wrapped around his waist. He could now pass for a Chattrya, who had a +right to worship, but no right whatever except in a certain section of +the temple set apart for non-Brahmin suppliants for Siva's notice. + +So far, so good. But to reach the tunnel leading to the winding +stairway, hewn out of the rock, that led upward to the temple floor +appeared impossible. He could dimly see shadowy forms of men sitting in +groups in the courtyard. He could hear the murmur and drone of their +conversation. It would be impossible to get by them unnoticed, nor did +he dare to risk losing himself in any of the other passages and tunnels +whose dark openings loomed like ink-blots in the night. + + * * * * * + +He crept toward the courtyard until, on his right, he could see the +flight of steps leading to a parapet from which, he knew, the bridge +stretched over the street toward Kali's temple. Kali's temple would be +worse than Siva's, as far as concerned getting out of it; its priests +were not on speaking terms with Siva's priests, whom they regarded as +loafers lacking discipline and zeal. + +But Bamjee knew that the parapet, and the bridge beyond it, as far as +the midway barrier erected and protected by the rival priests of Kali, +was a zone where idlers often broke the temple rules unknown to their +superiors. + +It is not alone in Christian churches that the devil incites the +sanctified to shoot craps in a vestry now and then; the critics of +Christianity have problems also. Bamjee, seeing that the moonlight +streamed down one side of the steps and left the other half in +darkness, tiptoed silently along the shadow by the wall and climbed in +search of sinners _in delictu_. + +"Luck," said Bamjee to himself, "is a hole in the roller of God that +otherwise crushes us. I have found one or two in my day. Maybe I find +another now." + +He did. There were no card parties, such as he hoped for; no +surreptitious singing of immodest songs; no drinking--nothing of any +blackmail value, until he peered around an image of the temple god, on +whose impassive shoulders scores of pigeons slept, and saw a woman, who +shrunk herself into a niche in the masonry, weeping. Never a man met +misery with greater pleasure. + +"Woman," remarked Bamjee, "I disagree with you. It may be you are all +he said you are, and worse, but you are not the most desperate person. +I am he. I, too, am made incredulous of the divine because I rashly +trusted a disciple of divinity. What shall you do? I don't know--until +you tell me what the matter is. First you shall tell me your sad tale, +then I will tell mine. Thus we may help each other." + +She was a pretty, soft-willed little woman of the sort that any rascal +can seduce with words that ooze romance, and she had given all she had +to somebody, no doubt of it. + +But like many another little fool, she had seemed so foolish that her +sanctified betrayer had dared to warm his vanity at the flame of her +admiration by revealing secrets to her that he thought were safe in her +simple mind, and now she only asked for sympathy to make her bubble +them all forth, the last first, in the order in which they crowded +memory. + +She had not depth enough of grief to be ashamed; she was only sorry for +herself. First come, first served; if she had known that Bamjee was an +expert at uncorking secrets, she would have told hers nevertheless. She +simply had to talk. + +"A little cash," said Bamjee to himself, "applied at the proper moment, +in the right way, heals all the smarts of ignorance. It is only +knowledge that is incurable." So he applied the cash. + +He pointed out to her how money pays for care at the Ranee's hospital; +and he told her of the Ranee's school of industry where women became +self-supporting and were protected from rapacious relatives, so +that even lawful husbands could not claim them and collect their +earnings. Such talk was like a fairy tale, but the hundred rupees that +she clenched in her hand were true enough. So she told the truth, +too--first the name of her seducer, then his temple rank, and then, to +match those wonder tales of Bamjee's, one by one his secrets. + +"And he will come for you? He will come for you here?" asked Bamjee. + +"Oh, he must. He will come to get rid of me when he comes off duty. I +can't get out of the temple without his help." + + * * * * * + +So Bamjee waited, getting her to tell the tale again until she grew +suspicious and, having told it all twice over, suddenly decided to be +secretive. Bamjee knew exactly what to do with that mood. + +"If you say one word more I will ask the Ranee not to admit you to +her hospital and to her school after your baby is born. From now on, +silence! If you speak when the priest comes, I will tell him what you +have told me." + +It was late--hardly an hour before sunrise, when the culprit came: +a shaven, well-fed, healthy Brahmin, with a long nose and a mouth +less cruel than irresponsible. He did not see Bamjee, who had perched +himself up on the arm of Siva's statue, disturbing numbers of pigeons +that came back and slept on his shoulders. The Brahmin began upbraiding +the woman, resuming a conversation where it had been interrupted when +he went on duty in the temple: + +"How should I know that the child is mine? And if it were, what of it? +Do you know how great an honor is intimacy with one of my caste? Do you +know the penalty for bringing a Brahmin into disrepute? Do you know the +law against adultery? Do you know what your husband can do to you if +he suspects that child is not his own? And do you know the penalty for +trespassing within this temple? Do you know the sin of ingratitude? Do +you know--" + +"Do you know who I am?" Bamjee asked him. When he moved he disturbed +the pigeons, so that up there on Siva's arm he must have looked amazing +at the first glimpse; the Brahmin's imagination may have clothed him +in other-world emblems of association with the gods. The Brahmin put +the palms of his hands together and touched his forehead. Then he knelt +with bowed head. + +Bamjee stepped on to his head. He rapped his forehead smartly against +the stone work. Then he squatted, and when the Brahmin looked up it was +at Bamjee's platinum-rimmed spectacles. + +"Who are you?" he demanded then, angrily, aware that he had made a fool +of himself. Perhaps he suspected that Bamjee was the woman's husband. + +"Point is, I know who you are," Bamjee answered. "I know what you have +been doing and I know what you are going to do." + +Recognizing Bamjee as any rate not of Brahmin caste, the Brahmin +resorted to the insolence that is the essence of the pretensions of his +breed. "Dogs now and then bark at their betters, but--" + +"But the betters avoid being bitten sometimes," Bamjee answered. "One +thing you will do, when I am ready, is to guide me and this woman from +the temple." + +"Oh, is she your woman?" + +"The whole temple shall know she is yours, at the top of my lungs," +said Bamjee, "her lungs also, probably--unless you swallow your +impertinence and listen. You will do exactly what I tell you. Otherwise +you shall be known as a Brahmin who has defiled himself--and much more +also. The Ranee shall learn all about your plans. Oh, yes, I know all +about them. No, no, you cannot immure me in a dungeon--not for many +minutes. It is known where I am. I am not at all afraid of being caught +in here. I am a spy! Yes, certainly, a very good one. And I don't mind +telling you who pays me: a committee of the merchants of Narada! What +for? They are weary of the Ranee. They desire to know whether or not +you Brahmins are concerting action against her. If so, they will be +very generous to the temple treasury, but if not--" + +"If not, what then?" the Brahmin demanded. + +"Never mind. I know your plans now. They are good ones." + +The Brahmin sneered. "You have learned them from that fool?" He glared +at the shrinking woman as if eyes could burn her up. Not even the dark +shadow of the overhanging statue prevented the woman from seeing and +feeling his wrath. In another moment she would have denied having told +anything, but Bamjee forestalled her. + +"I have said I am a good spy, oh, person of small intelligence!" Bamjee +was itching to get away, but he betrayed no trace of it; he appeared +willing to talk until after daylight. + +"Would a good spy listen to a woman? To a woman with a grievance? +I have been all night listening to the twice-born groups of holy +chatterers who sweat below there in the courtyard. As for the woman, +I only use her as a stick to beat you with, to make you guide me out +of the temple. In return I will see you well rid of the woman. I will +attend to the woman. You need not give another thought to her. Give her +your blessing--and perhaps a little money--" + +Bamjee knew perfectly well that no temple Brahmin would give up money +to a woman. Thoroughly he understood the money hunger of the men who +were supposed to get along without it. + + * * * * * + +"Money? I have none," said the Brahmin. + +"Never mind. If she agrees to be silent, perhaps I myself will give +her some," said Bamjee. "I have plenty. The merchants of Narada pay me +handsomely, in return for the risks I undertake. How many men are there +who would dare to spy into this temple? Daring and intelligence such as +mine command a market price. I could even spare you some--perhaps--if +you should need it." + +"To the giver the reward," the Brahmin answered. "There is virtue in +giving." + +"Yes, undoubtedly. But"--Bamjee blinked behind his spectacles. He was +taking a long shot at a venture, betting on his own imagination and the +inspiration of the moment--"who is to guarantee that Maraj will perform +his part of the bargain? Maraj bungled that elephant business. It is +true he induced a fakir to frighten the elephant, and the fakir was +silenced by instant death, but who else suffered?" + +The Brahmin's breath was almost taken by the question. Leaning, almost +touching faces, Bamjee thought he noticed signs of that snail-like +withdrawal into a mental shell that all the East knows how to practice +and that is so difficult to probe. So he went on talking, telling what +he really had learned from the woman, not what he guessed: + +"It is a good plan to demand that the elephant be slain and that +Quorn be dismissed from her service. She will refuse both demands, +undoubtedly. The next move after that is equally well considered, since +she is proud and obstinate and fearless. Let the deputation say to her: +'If true that this monster is fit to live, and that Quorn can manage +him, prove that to us. Ride him yourself. Order Quorn to put the howdah +on him, and do you ride in the howdah.' That is excellent, and she +will do it, because she is young and foolish and excitable. But who is +to guarantee that Maraj will make the elephant unmanageable? Who? Who +guarantees that? I have a sum of money for that man, if I can find him. +Some now, more afterward. Who is he?" + +The Brahmin tapped his own chest. Bamjee nodded, but produced no money +yet. He knew those Brahmins. + +"How will you go about it? How will you manage a maniac?" Bamjee asked. + +"Easily. We would withdraw our protection--he would not last one day +if he should fail us. Besides, the old hermitage has been his hiding +place so long that he feels like a ghost that haunts it. Maniacs have +iron minds. They yield up no obsessions. Rather than be driven from +the hermitage Maraj would--anything. There is nothing he would not do +rather than yield that hiding place. Part of the plan is to speak to +the Ranee craftily about the hermitage, inducing her to claim she owns +it. We defy her. She goes for a ride on the elephant. Somebody subtly +suggests to her to ride toward the hermitage and take possession. Then +I notify Maraj that she is coming to cast him forth. And there will be +enough of us near the hermitage to be witnesses that she was on her way +to seize temple property. Thus all Narada will know afterward that her +death was a just penalty inflicted on her by the gods." + + * * * * * + +"Are you sure you can find Maraj?" + +"Oh, yes, I can always find him. I have only to make a certain signal. +Then I meet him at a certain place. Two of us know that signal. One +of us is with Maraj to-night. He was to try to persuade Maraj to kill +Quorn, but the plan appeared to me ridiculous--too risky--too many +chances for Quorn to escape. I am sure he will be back soon saying +that the plan failed. I hope it does fail. To-morrow's plan is better +because she and Quorn will both die at the same time--Maraj also, +perhaps." + +"Much better," said Bamjee. "Here are three hundred rupees for you. +There will be three thousand more if the plan succeeds. Will you be at +the hermitage?" + +"Yes. Please bring the money to the hermitage. And now you had better +go if I am to guide you and this woman without your being seen." + +"Come, woman! Come!" commanded Bamjee. But before he went he wrote his +name in pencil on the toe of Siva's image. + +[Illustration: _Craftily Bamjee wrote his name in pencil on the toe of +Siva's image._] + +"Proof," he muttered, "proof that I have been here might help, if the +Brahmins--yes, it might help either way the cat jumps." + +Through a maze of passages, in darkness, up and down enormous stairs +between enormous walls, they reached a narrow door at last that opened +on an alley. + +When the door was shut behind them Bamjee sat down on the step. He +had his pencil, but no paper, so he tore a corner off his cotton +loin-cloth, and on that he wrote a short note to his wife. He gave it +to the woman. + +"Take it to her," he commanded, "and say nothing until you see me. You +will receive food and a bed to sleep in. But before you go to sleep, +remember and remember and remember every word you heard that Brahmin +say to me. Now run!" + +The woman ran. Bamjee sat still on the step, his head between his +hands. He was tired to the verge of hysteria. + +"What next? What now? Are there any gods? I doubt it. If there were +they would admire--they would inspire me! To the palace? Tell her? +Certainly not; she would get the credit and Bamjee would be left out +in the cold as usual. Then what? Never mind the danger--danger is the +spice of profit. Who--where--what is the key to the riddle now? Quorn +is! + +"Can I find him? Where did he hide that elephant? Puzzle: find an +elephant. Only all outdoors in which to look. And at that he may +be indoors. Nevertheless, if I find the elephant I find Quorn. Not +there? Only have to wait, perhaps sleep--Quorn will arrive presently. +If I can find him, tell him, make him understand, perhaps--oh, damn +perhaps! I am a genius--I can be what that idiot Blake calls a god +in a box--no, god out of a box. Critical moment, pull plug--save +everybody--here--credit--thank you, Bamjee--profitable--very. Where +could Quorn have hidden that abominable pachydermatous atrocity? +Oh--all that distance?--walk--well--" + +Bamjee walked until he found a pony that had stood all night hitched to +a shop door. It had a bridle, but no saddle. + +"Flagrant breach of regulation number so-and-so--duty of any citizen +aware of same to take steps--pony, do you know where the city pound is? +Neither do I. Let us look for it. Canter, you hairy curse, or somebody +may catch us!" + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + ASOKA IN HIDING. + + +The outcast's lot is not a happy one, but there are compensations. The +Chandala are regarded as so untouchable that even sweepers will have +nothing to do with them. They are not allowed in cities. Such villages +as they have are in the jungle, where they are neither taxed nor +troubled by the census taker. If they die, they die; and if they rot, +they rot; it is nobody's business. + +So they are as free as any sort of human being can be, and the proof +that they are actually human is that they crave what they have not +got--servitude. + +They ignorantly ache for a red-hot religion and rules and a boss to +deprive them of liberty--a fact which had made it very easy for Maraj +to pose among them as a being from another world. + +Quorn had merely taken pity on them and employed them to cut grass for +his elephants. He had made a number of journeys into the jungle to show +them what kind of grass he wanted, and on one of these expeditions he +had found a ruined building, roofless but otherwise serviceable. It had +been full of trash and brambles when he first discovered it, but he had +made use of the elephants to clean it out, and he was using it now as a +place in which to hide Asoka from the machinations of the Brahmins. + +He could with fair confidence count on the Chandala not to give away +the hiding place because of their ingrained, justified and lively +mistrust of any one asking questions or even trespassing into their +part of the jungle. It was not very far from Narada--at any rate, not +more than twenty miles--and he reached it on Blake's skewbald errand +pony not long after daybreak. He was rather surprised that there +were no Chandala, lean and dirty-looking, perching on the walls like +vultures to stare at Asoka. + +He turned the pony into a roofless room beside a heap of hay and limped +into Asoka's chamber, where a glance told him that nothing whatever was +wrong. Asoka greeted him, gathered him up in his trunk, hoisted him up +on his head, and the two went down to the creek for the morning drink +and a mud bath. + +That took time, because the mud had to be washed off afterward, which +meant a long swim and a lot of fooling, so the sun was well up over the +trees when Quorn rode back along the jungle glade and reëntered the +ruin. He could see, at a bend in the glade, the broken branches that +Rana Raj Singh had thrown down to mark and at the same time to conceal +the trail down which he and his men had ridden to hide in the _nullah_ +not far away. It was probable that one man, or perhaps two, were in +the trees on the alert, but it would need second-sight to discover a +Rajput scout, even if you knew exactly where to look. + +Quorn proposed to himself to get some sleep, although it was a poor +place for it because the flies were awful. However, he gathered green +leaves with which to cover himself, shook the hay to make sure there +were no snakes in it, and lay down, near enough to Asoka to be awakened +if the monster should grow restless. + +He was watching, through a chink between the leaves, the great body +swaying to the rhythm of the spheres, or whatever it is that elephants +are conscious of, when Bamjee came cantering down the glade and, after +turning his pony into the same inclosure with Quorn's, broke in on +Quorn's peace. + + * * * * * + +"Oh!" said Bamjee. "I am glad to to see you!" + +"Can't return the compliment," said Quorn, sitting up and brushing hay +out of his hair. "You're a buzzard of ill-omen. Any time you show up +there's grief around the corner. What's eating you? You didn't run me +down for nothing?" + +"Nothing? What is nothing? If everything is nothing, as the Yogis say, +then nothing is everything. Everything is enough. I have every reason. +Shall I name one?" + +Quorn sighed and filled his pipe. "You look like the wreck o' the +Hesperus. Indecent, you, a father of a family, sporting around in a +turban and cotton gee-string. I'm ashamed of the elephant seeing you." + +"Nevertheless," said Bamjee, "I am the person who will cause you to +become a Sirdar. Sirdar Benjamin Quorn: how will that look on the +envelope? I know now what the Brahmins intend to do. You shall defeat +them with my help. You shall have all the credit, but you must promise +to pay me half of the big bonus that the Ranee will undoubtedly give +you." + +"Nix," Quorn answered. "Getting's keepings. Play your own hand. You +wouldn't offer to deal me in unless you wanted me so damn bad you're +fair busting. So shoot." + +"Well, I could easily go to the Ranee with my story." + +"You can soap yourself and slide to hell with it. I ain't particular." + +"If I should tell you what I have ascertained, will you promise to +recommend me also for a bonus?" + +"No. You make enough off the gum you lick off postage stamps to pay my +salary twice over. When I make promises, I know why. And when I don't +make 'em I know why. You're why. Get me?" + +"Well, if I should take you into my confidence--" + +"You mean get me to trust you? Can't be done." + +"If I should tell you what I know, and you should use that information, +and by using it should not only save the Ranee's life, but also catch +the Brahmins in their own trap, would you see that I get credit for it?" + +"Mebbe." + +"Is that your best bid? Listen, Mr. Quorn. The Ranee appointed you her +agent to hunt down Maraj and to connect him with the Brahmins. You +may order everybody--troops, police, palace servants, Prince Rana Raj +Singh, even myself. I have information, and I am willing to tell you +how to solve the riddle--how to give the necessary orders and so snatch +fame and reward in the very face of destiny. What will you do for me?" + +"You mean if you ain't lying? If you really have that information? +I'll hold you underneath that elephant while he does a Charleston on +your belly--unless you tell me dam-quick every word you know. Sit down +there. Spill it. Satan's high hat! You, as naked as a nigger, coming +here to try and _sell_ me something that might save _her_ life? Act +your age, Bamjee. Say all you know, and say it quick." + +Even his enemies, of whom he has several, say this of Bamjee: that +he knows when to capitulate, and that he does it with a good grace. +He ignored Quorn's rudeness, threw all stipulation to the winds, and +plunged into his story, relating in minute detail what had happened in +the Brahmin temple. + +"And I tell you, Mr. Quorn, that they are tired of Maraj, even though +they do not say so in plain words. They are afraid of him. They are +almost as anxious to see the end of him as of you and the Ranee. I +think it likely they will snap him in the same trap in which they hope +to catch you. All you need to do is ride into the trap and have Prince +Rana Raj Singh lie in ambush; each of his men will have a Brahmin on +his lance before the day is over. + +"But if you tell the Ranee before-hand she will give neither you nor me +the credit. And if you tell Prince Rana Raj Singh, it will be the same +story--" + +A shadow fell between them. Then a hollow voice: + +"And if you tell Maraj? What if you should tell Maraj?" + + * * * * * + +Bamjee almost fainted. Maraj had climbed over the wall and approached +from behind them. His maniac eyes looked burned by lack of sleep, +and his movement was almost simian, but an intelligence, mocking and +masterful, glowed beneath the surface. However dry his eyes might seem, +they looked indomitable. He lifted Bamjee by the neck with one hand and +dumped him beside Quorn. + +Then he sat and faced them both. Quorn noticed that Asoka was beginning +to grow nervous. + +"Snap Maraj in a trap! That is funny!" + +"Hell!" said Quorn. "Of course they couldn't catch you in a trap." + +"But I will catch them!" + +"Sure you will. O' course you will. That's a part o' the bargain you +made with me." + +Genius has nothing whatever to do with education. It is a gift for +recognizing the essence of things and what to do about it. Quorn knew +nothing about maniacs, just as he had known nothing about elephants +until he came to Narada. He could not have explained his method; it +would certainly not have occurred to him to say there was something +simple about a man whose manhood had been lost in a maze of egotism and +murderous cunning. + +He did not think about it. He acted, simply. + +"Would you break our bargain?" + +But Maraj was suspicious. "There is new horse-dung on the track. Whose +horses?" + +"Mine. Bamjee's." + +"Many horses. Whose?" + +"Rana Raj Singh and his men. Rana Raj Singh quarreled with the +Ranee--pulled his freight. Off in a huff. Nobody knows where he's +going, and nobody cares." + +Something in the maniac's eyes altered. Cunning beneath cunning +readjusted purpose beneath purpose. Quorn noticed a sudden blaze of +anger that was instantly suppressed and hidden under too much suavity; +but he had no means of knowing that Maraj had listened through Blake's +window to the whole of the Ranee's conversation. + +"He is after Maraj," said the maniac. + +He was being so subtle now that subtlety oozed from his lips in a +conceited smile, defeating its own end. Simultaneously Quorn and Bamjee +recognized that his conceit could be his own undoing. + +"What do you care?" Quorn asked. "Ain't you a match for him?" + +"Yes, and for the Brahmins also." He fixed his eyes on Bamjee's. "You +did not know, did you, that I was listening behind the wall? I heard +you say the Brahmins mean to snap me in the same trap with the Ranee. +So they shall. I will be the bait. I will draw the Brahmins, too, into +their own trap. Rana Raj Singh shall find them in it, and destroy them. +But, first, they shall destroy the Ranee, so that he shall have the +impulse to destroy them. Ho, but we will feed death! And though they +close me in a trap without an outlet, can they keep me in it?" + +He grinned, glaring again into Quorn's eyes. "Afterward, you and I will +keep that tryst--when you have no elephant to think about--nothing to +think about except me, your master." + + * * * * * + +Maraj got up and stared at Asoka, having glanced first at the ropes +that held the monster's hind feet. He was well out of reach of his +trunk. He said nothing--did nothing--only stared. But the elephant, +already nervous, suddenly grew panic-stricken, screamed, tried to reach +him and kill him. He did his best to burst the heel ropes. + +Quorn's fingers were on a piece of broken masonry; the intention to +crush the maniac's skull with it burned in his brain and his veins, but +the stone was too heavy to lift. Maraj turned to him and grinned: + +"Soon--soon now you shall learn what it means to be all-passionate, and +at the same time helpless. That is agony--exquisite, exquisite agony; +dew on the flowers of death. So fragrant! So delicious! Wait and see." + +He sprang to the wall in three strides then, vaulted it, and vanished. +Quorn went to Asoka and spent a whole hour coaxing him back to calmness. + +"Did a bogy scare him? Daddy's big boy! Never mind, we'll show 'em. +Nex' time, maybe, we won't have no heel ropes on--and then what?" + +Suddenly Quorn turned on Bamjee: "Get a move on, you. Time enough to +take it easy when you're dead. Go find the Ranee and tell her every +word of what's took place. Don't you leave one word out. And if them +Brahmins have already been to her with their demands, you tell her +from me to give out that she'll ride Asoka to that there hermitage +to-morrow morning. I'll have him saddled and ready and at the palace +door. + +"She'd better order about half the troops to march behind her, but +remember: them guys aren't dependable against the Brahmins, so they'd +better start late and come along slow; they're jes' for appearances. +I'll see the Prince. And say, see Mr. Blake. Tell him if he wants to +see sport and maybe be a bit useful, he'd better ride Asoka with the +Ranee. That's all. Get your pony and get out o' here." + +When Bamjee had departed, Quorn took Asoka for another mud bath and a +swim. + +"Lord," he muttered as he rode out of the ruined building, "do you +suppose that maniac heard what I jus' said to Bamjee? Well--who cares? +I'm betting on the Prince and twenty Rajputs. There'll be a picnic." +Then he went on talking to Asoka: "Trouble you make, don't you? Never +mind, though, you ain't guilty this time. Use your big bean, or they'll +execute you day after to-morrow at sunrise. + +"What you're needing is a first-class working alibi, and durn me if +I know one. You killed a guy. You've got to offset that somehow. +Maybe alibi's the wrong word--I ain't no lawyer. Anyhow you use your +bean, you sucker, and I'll use mine, and we'll get you a verdict o' +not guilty somehow--somehow. Self-defense? Extreme provocation? No +evidence? Hell--none o' them won't do. We got to get an alibi or bust!" + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + A TRAP FOR ASOKA. + + +Narada knew that there were tantrums in the wind. It was the time of +year when corn-fed elephants go _musth_ and men are inflamed by all the +tom-tom of the marriage drums until imagination, like a strange gas, +maddens the whole mob. + +It was normal in the month of carnival for slumbering resentment of +a thousand years of wrongs to blaze into sudden flame and make a +smoke-black ruin of--perhaps a street of money-lenders' houses, or a +mean mosque, raised by poor Mahommedans whose chaste and inexpensive +minaret had too long pointed to a scorching sky. + +No agitator needed to harangue hot crowds and tongue-lash lethargy into +a spate of violence. It only needed mummurs--of the right sort, from +the right source. And it is a strange fact that the more men mock the +methods, and the servants, and the outer symbols of religion, that much +easier it is for whisperers to stir them to the state where they will +stab each other. + +Nowhere more than in Narada are the Brahmins hated. Nowhere is it +easier for Brahmins of a certain sort to stir with almost noiseless +tongue the terrible volcano that resides in ignorant minds. + +And so it happened that the Ranee's troops could not march on the day +when Quorn brought back Asoka to the city, polished him until he shone, +harnessed him with the lightest hunting _howdah_, and rode him, stately +as a page of legend, through the crowded streets toward the palace. +The troops were needed to the last man--fifty of them--to parade with +gleaming bayonets and make rioting look like too risky a gamble. + +There were two tales circulating. One was that the Ranee had defied +the Brahmins, which nobody minded much, although they shuddered at the +sacrilege while they secretly and even openly enjoyed the scandal. + +It was the other tale that made men glower when they heard it. It was +not enough that the Ranee kept and protected and used an elephant +that had slain a very holy fakir. She had employed Maraj to cause the +elephant to do it. The Brahmins said so. + +And to show how fair and strictly truthful the Brahmins could be on +occasion, had the Brahmins not admitted publicly, and now privately, +that Quorn truly was the reincarnated Gunga _sahib_? The Brahmins had +explained it perfectly: it was just another case of ingratitude to the +gods who had provided the Ranee with agents for the accomplishment of +holy purposes, in the form of Quorn and his elephant; agents which she +had promptly used for unholy purposes. + +There could only be one possible end to it. Quorn, of course, would +have to suffer for letting himself be so misused. The elephant--the +Ranee--well, whoever should kill all three of them might have to be a +martyr for it, but inevitably he would turn out to be the agent of the +angry gods who would mete out due reward in the hereafter. + +As for Maraj, it was obvious now how he had escaped capture and +punishment for all those horrible murders. Anybody could understand it +now, since the Brahmins had told the truth about it. The Ranee had been +protecting him all along. Her offer of a heavy reward for his capture +had been nothing but a blind to deceive people. She had been making use +of Maraj to get rid of her enemies. + +True, many of the people murdered by Maraj had seemed unimportant and +not dangerous. It was equally true that some of them had been notorious +enemies of the Brahmins. + +But there were plain answers to both those questions. In the first +place, tyrants grow afraid of shadows, and kill imagined enemies +without rhyme or reason, that being one of the aspects of tyranny. In +the second place, people who oppose themselves to religious authority +must not blame the authorities if the gods take steps to destroy such +opposition. + +Nobody should blame the Brahmins for the gods' annoyance. One did not +have to like the Brahmins personally, or even collectively, nor need +one approve of all their arrogance, in order to see the unfairness of +blaming them for what the gods might do. One did not have to hate the +Ranee or to call her beauty ugliness and her generosity meanness, in +order to see what a fool she had made of herself, and what a wicked +woman she had been to employ and subsidize Maraj. + + * * * * * + +Besides, the Ranee had discarded _purdah_ and neglected many of the +ancient customs. She had repeatedly defied the Brahmins who are, after +all, the fountain-head of wisdom. She had opened hospitals, where +people died at the hands of heretical doctors in spite of all the +genuine remedies that were smuggled to their bedside. + +She had opened a school for women, where women were actually taught, +in so many words, that they had rights as well as obligations. She +had closed the brothels, which, as everybody knew, were a social +safety-valve. And she was proposing to marry a man of her own choosing. + +The gods don't tolerate such infidelity for long; when they are weary +of it, they act suddenly and swiftly. + +So the city was in an expectant, ugly mood, and there were ugly rumors, +borne on the wings of nobody knew what. Everybody knew that something +terrible was going to happen. Those who owned property were afraid, and +those who owned none, or owed money, were belligerently watchful. + +The only thing that prevented rioting from breaking out in a sort of +spontaneous combustion was the gleam on the bayonets of the Ranee's +infantry and the beautifully polished brass of their machine gun, +strategically stationed where they could do the greatest amount of +damage in the shortest possible time. + +The sun beat down on all that mixed emotion like a million discordant +cymbals of yellow brass, heat and noise being only different vibrations +of the self-same violence. + +So as Quorn rode Asoka through the streets he did not receive his usual +ovation. Children were not lifted up to look at him. No women threw him +little bunches of waxy flowers. And the story of Asoka's slaying of +the holy fakir had been so spread and so exaggerated that the throngs +in the narrow streets melted away ahead of him; whereas it had always +been Asoka's reputation that, though his temper was terrific, he was +dignified and patient toward a crowd, particularly if the crowd was +noisy in its admiration. + +Asoka sensed the change of public sentiment almost, if not quite as +readily as Quorn perceived it, and by the time he reached the palace he +was already showing symptoms of uncertain temper. Quorn's voice kept +him in control and he behaved beautifully under the palace portico +while they set the ladder against him and the Ranee climbed into the +_howdah_; but as he started off he was rumbling in a way that called +for several smart raps with the _ankus_ to remind him he was not his +own master. + +Blake was on horseback and had brought four mounted servants with him. +They were a sort of superior _sais_, quite undependable except as +grooms, and unarmed, but Blake's own automatic reposed in a holster +underneath his shirt; he appeared ill-tempered, in a mood to use that +pistol, in spite of his diplomatic status. + +Blake was the type of man who, when he does get involved in +indiscretion--as every diplomat worth trusting, and every diplomat who +ever accomplished anything, must do at times--never retreated but, by +even greater indiscretion, usually saved the day. The only thoroughly +discreet men are the dead ones, and the ill-served governments are +those whose agents never make mistakes because they don't dare. Blake +and his servants formed the rear guard, Blake being of the reasonable +opinion that his own presence, as a sort of unofficial escort, and +official witness, ought to make the Ranee safer than her own troops +would have done. + +The advance-guard was a party of the sons of the nobility, courtiers +all, eight in number, beautifully horsed and splendid in their colored +turbans, but unarmed because they were not Rajputs and because, by +treaty, the Ranee's troops were limited to fifty men. No non-military +individuals in India, except the Rajputs, are allowed to carry even +their native weapons, so there was neither sword nor lance in all that +party. But by the same law they had the right to suppose they would not +be met with weapons. + +As they swayed toward the open country the Ranee lay chin-on-elbows in +the _howdah_, merely sitting up at intervals to let any one who cared +to know it see that she was trusting herself on Asoka's back. + +She was in riding-breeches and a turban made of cloth of green and +gold. Her white silk shirt was fastened at the throat with an emerald +worth her ransom, but except for the diamond aigrette in her turban she +wore no other jewelry; she was out to do things and defeat her enemies, +not to adorn Narada. And as usual she talked with Quorn as if he were a +minister of state who knew all her personal secrets. + + * * * * * + +"Miss," he said over his shoulder, "I seen the prince, and him and me +understood each other. He has all his twenty Rajputs with him. Half +have lances and the other half have sabers. And if you want my guess, +there's bootleg automatics under cover, but I know the law and I ain't +seen nothing. The prince told me he knows a _nullah_ near the hermitage +where he can hide his men perfect; there's high reeds and a swamp, with +the river back o' that, so you can only come at the hiding place by one +track. He took along food for men and horses and he aimed to get in +there last night, or early before daylight. And he says there's a kind +of island in the _nullah_, quite high, with a clump o' tall trees on +it, so he can watch the hermitage and know what's going on." + +"Let us hope," she remarked. + +"Hope, miss? You can bet your boots he's on the job!" + +"I hope," she said, "there will be a job for him to do. It is not so +simple in these days for a prince to prove his mettle. Do you know, Mr. +Quorn, if it weren't for that--that Rana Raj Singh needs an opportunity +to prove to himself that he is fit to be my consort--to himself, +you understand?--I would have sought some other way of solving this +problem." + +"Miss, there ain't no other way. You've got to soak it to them Brahmins +good. You can't argue with 'em. They've got laws and rules and +spiritual reggilations every way you turn and all amounting to the same +thing: Brahmins is right and everybody else is wrong, plus damn-bad, +ornery and wicked. Did Bamjee tell you all he knows?" + +"Bamjee never tells all he knows, but he told enough. Poor Bamjee! I +have sent him to the hermitage." + +"Good God, miss! What for?" + +"Simply to make trouble on general principles. Since we are to have +trouble anyhow, let us have lots of it. Bamjee told me that the +Brahmins have sent about a dozen of their number to the hermitage with +orders not to move out of it. Rana Raj Singh shall drive them out. +When the highest spiritual authorities turn crooked they always ally +themselves with the lowest elements, so I don't doubt we shall have the +Chandala to deal with. Maraj has probably stirred the Chandala against +me. Bamjee says the Brahmins are growing afraid of Maraj and intend to +betray him--" + +"And Maraj, miss, he means to betray the Brahmins--" + +"And the Brahmins, I happen to know through reliable spies, have taken +a number of ruffians with them to the hermitage." + +"There'll be hell to pay, miss--and no soldiers!" + +"Yes, this looks like real opportunity for Rana Raj Singh!" + +"And Asoka, miss? You ain't going to have him executed, nohow, are you? +Not whatever the outcome?" + +"This is his chance, too, I think," she answered. + +Quorn thumped Asoka with the _ankus_. "Do you hear that, you big bum? +Strut your stuff and think up your own alibi!" + +The hell that was to pay began when they had just crossed the wide +lower ford of Narada River. The advance-guard, laughing and chatting, +drew abreast of a swamp where the reeds were ten feet higher than a +man's head. The road they were to follow led around that swamp and then +eastward along the river bank. On the right was a porphyry cliff with +enormous bowlders at its foot, and ahead was the road to the railway +station, two days' march away. + + * * * * * + +Asoka was the first to fore-sense trouble; he curled up his precious +trunk out of harm's way and began shaking his ears. Quorn hardly had +time to get a firm grip with his knees when one of the escort threw up +his hand and shouted. + +With no other warning at all, from two directions--from the bowlders +and the reeds--at least a hundred water-buffalo came charging down on +them in one of those blind, irresistible rushes in which one mind, one +terror governs a whole herd and whelms whatever stands in front of it. + +The horsemen scattered and Asoka plunged into the reeds, the Ranee +laughing gayly as she clung to the _howdah_--until she saw a naked man +on a sort of raft open the reeds with his hands, leap carefully from +clump to clump of roots and jab at the elephant's rump with a spear. + +Asoka screamed with anger. Three more naked spearmen tried to work +their way toward him, but he plunged again out of the swamp at almost +the place where he had entered and proceeded to remove himself from +that scene at a speed that would have made a horse a Derby winner. + +"Hang on, miss!" Quorn cried. + +Fear takes hold of elephants as suddenly as typhoons smite the sea. +Frenzy as well as fear took hold of Asoka, arousing his whole strength, +his entire speed, blinding him, deafening him to Quorn's voice, making +him almost as unconscious as a landslide or a monster in a dream. + +He crashed into the jungle, smashed the _howdah_ roof against a branch, +thundered through undergrowth, slid down _nullahs_ like an avalanche +with earth-banks breaking under him, charged through clinging clumps of +thorn-brush, floundered into a wallow where the buffalo had lain, came +out of it smothered with mud and butted, squealing like a bucking pony, +against a tree that blocked his path. The tree cracked, splintered and +fell. + +Then, glimpsing through his blood-shot eyes a glade beyond a bamboo +thicket, he crashed through the thicket and began to lay the long +leagues underfoot. + +An elephant driven by terror can run for a day without stopping. Quorn +was satisfied to hold on for the present. He was pleased that he had +not dropped the iron _ankus_. Branches had whipped his forehead; with +his free hand he wiped the blood that had streamed in his eyes; it +was the blood that prevented him from seeing what was happening along +the glade. The Ranee, clinging to the low brass rail in front of the +_howdah_ and with her feet jammed under the side-rails, leaned out and +touched Quorn between the shoulders. + +"Do you see?" she shouted. "Fires!" + +He heard the word and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes. Men--Chandala, +he could see them now, lean, rusty-skinned, filthy--had set heaped +thorn-wood fires along the glade. They blazed and crackled suddenly as +Asoka drew near. They were all on one side of the glade--to the right. + +Asoka swerved away from them, until he left that glade where his path +was blocked by a wall of sputtering flame, and tore along a left-hand +opening between the trees in the direction of the river. The Ranee +touched Quorn's back again. + +"Can you turn him?" + +"No, miss." + +"I feel sure we are being driven into a trap!" + +Quorn began using every faculty he had. He had been half-stunned by the +whipping branches, but he threw off that sensation--or lack of it--as a +fighter in the ring does in the minute's interval between rounds. + +"Got to think--got to think like hell!" he muttered. "This big bum +ain't thinking." + +He began to encourage Asoka to run, instead of merely sitting still +and letting him. Pitching his voice to the familiar note of command he +urged him forward--faster!--faster!--until a shadowy, comforting sense +of obedience began to invade Asoka's consciousness. + +It seemed to the elephant now that he had obeyed Quorn in the +beginning; obeying him, he had outdistanced horror; he was ready to +obey again--presently--presently--maybe--when he should feel quite sure. + + * * * * * + +There were fires again now, and more of them, at closer intervals; and +through a gap in the trees, ahead, Quorn saw the river gleaming like +burnished metal in the morning sun. He saw where the path they were +following forked; both branches led toward the river, but the left-hand +path was blocked by an inferno of crashing thorn-bush. Certainly the +trap was somewhere down the right-hand fork. Men leaped out of the +undergrowth with burning fire-brands, taking all risks, setting the +grass alight to drive Asoka down the right-hand fairway. + +And then Bamjee dropped out of a tree. It was like a dream. He was +torn, disheveled, he had lost his turban. He stood in the midst of the +right-hand path and waved his arms. He shouted. Then he fled into the +jungle with two of the Chandala following, hard on his heels. + +Quorn used the _ankus_ then. He used it cruelly. Voice, knees, _ankus_, +all together urged the elephant to turn left. Once again Asoka curled +his trunk. He did not hesitate. He caught a glimpse of the river +between the trees, swung left between two blazing fires that almost +singed his flanks and scooted for the friendly water where he knew no +fire could follow. + +Quorn had forgotten the waterfall. There was a fifty-foot drop, heavy +water plunging onto crags, and he could hear the roar of it as the +river bank broke beneath Asoka's weight and the monster plunged in +head-first, turning almost a somersault, displacing tons of water. + +How Quorn hung on he never knew. He was half-drowned. For awhile he was +conscious of nothing except the need to cling with heels and hands and +knees, and to keep Asoka, if he could, from being swept down-river and +on to the crags below the fall. That thought obsessed him. + +Almost the first clear glimpse he had was of the river bank a hundred +yards away, and of the roaring falls not fifty feet beyond him on +his left hand. He could see the pale-green film of the crest of the +plunging water. In the same moment he knew that the Ranee was no longer +in the _howdah_. + +For a moment--just one moment--he ceased to care then whether he went +over the falls or not. The universe went blank. He had not known how +much he loved the Ranee. Then, as suddenly, a rage took hold of him. He +beat Asoka with his fists. + +"You big bum! Turn and find her!" + +But Asoka was cooling his hot flanks, comfortable, careless--as +indifferent to the world he had left behind as he was to waterfalls. He +had fled from terror. + +He had found peace, that included Quorn with no _ankus_ in his hand. +Quorn's fists were funny. + +He submerged himself, breathing through his trunk that stuck a foot +above the water, giving Quorn a bath, too. Possibly he thought his +friend Quorn would enjoy that. Then, because the water, and the sense +of safety, and the physical reaction made him happy, he amused himself +and drove Quorn nearly frantic by pretending that the current was +drawing him over the waterfall. + +He let himself drift until the water thundered in Quorn's ears and the +glassy curve of the descending wave was almost within hand-reach; then +he slowly swam upstream--only to repeat the performance again, and +again, and again. At last, when he was nice and cool and the thought of +grass seemed good to him, he permitted himself to recognize that he was +being ordered out on dry land. + +Dry land be it, then. But not the bank where horror had pursued him. +Whenever Quorn tried to turn him toward the south bank, he submerged +himself, pretending he supposed Quorn wanted that; and it was on the +north bank that he emerged at last, ten feet above the waterfall, as +pleasant-tempered as he had been frantic half an hour ago. + +Narada River is deep at that point, banked up by the dyke that forms +the waterfall; below the fall it shallows to a ford a quarter of a +mile wide. Far across the river Quorn could see a stream of crimson +topped with billowing smoke where the thorn fires had caught the jungle +undergrowth. There were no men in sight. Doubtless they had fled from +the spreading flame. There was no wind just then; the fire was eating +its way outward in a circle. + +"Maybe I can get this fool across the ford," Quorn muttered. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + THE LOST RANEE. + + +There was a well-defined track down the rocks to the foot of the fall, +and below that there was a footpath all along the river to the ford. +Quorn rode along that, watching the troubled water, half-expecting to +see the Ranee's body, mangled by the crags, floating in mid-stream or +stranded. But he knew there were alligators, slimy, greedy devils; +floating bodies had a slim chance; even the fords were sometimes +dangerous for passengers on foot. + +All that way along the river bank Quorn was sick at heart and careless +even of Asoka's comfort or his destiny; however, he began to be puzzled +before long by symptoms that he noticed, and he was more than ever +puzzled by Asoka's willingness to cross the river when they reached the +ford. + +"What's eating you? What's making you forget?" he wondered. + +All the way across the ford he indulged in sentimental guesswork as to +whether the Ranee's death had not humiliated and broken Asoka's spirit. +Nearly every one is capable at times of that sort of imagination. + +However, on the far bank he got down to search for what the matter +might be, and soon discovered the spear-wound in Asoka's rump. It was +nothing serious, although it might be painful, and he understood then +that Asoka had been merely asking for attention. + +He made Asoka kneel and, having no remedies handy, made a fly-brush +of grass at the end of a string that would sway with the elephant's +movement and prevent the stinging flies from laying eggs in the open +cut. + +It was while he was tying the string to the _howdah_ rail that Bamjee +came. By this time the _babu_ had lost his spectacles. There was +hardly a shred of untorn clothing on his body and almost every inch +of him was bleeding from the thorns. He was breathless and he fell at +Quorn's feet. For a minute or two he lay and vomited. Then suddenly his +will power triumphed and he knelt--sputtered--exploded: + +"Damn! Loafer! Bloody fool! You wait here? Oh, my God! I saw you on the +far bank--didn't you see my signal?" + +"Looking for the Ranee," Quorn answered. Then he lowered his voice. +"She's drownded." + +"Liar!" + +"She is. She's drownded." + +"Liar, I tell you! I saw her swim--she was washed out of the _howdah_ +close inshore--caught the grass in her hands and climbed out--scrambled +up the bank. He seized her--" + +"For the love o' God, who did?" + +"Maraj! Pounced on her like a hawk on a bird. He had a trap set. I +warned you, and you avoided it. I had to run, and they thought they +killed me, but I came back. When Maraj saw you plunge into the river +he ran to the place. And when he saw the Ranee in the water he hid +himself. I tried to yell to her, but I had no voice. I couldn't +whisper! And so she climbed out, and Maraj pounced on her. + +"I saw him pick her up--she was kicking--he carried her--he ran--and +I ran--he choked her until she left off kicking--then I saw him take +her to the hermitage, which is full of Brahmins and cutthroats--and +I don't know where the Prince is--and we can't get to the hermitage +now--_because the whole damn jungle is on fire! Oh, my God!_" + +He lay and beat the hard earth with his flat palms. He beat his +forehead on the ground. Quorn lifted him, took him by shoulders and +heel and hoisted him into the _howdah_. Then he climbed up to his own +place on Asoka's neck, after he had broken off a short stick for +administrative purposes. + +"Come on now, and no bunk!" + + * * * * * + +Quorn was not even quite sure where the hermitage lay, and it was no +use asking Bamjee, who was moaning and out of his senses, rolling from +side to side of the _howdah_. But Bamjee had told the truth about the +jungle fire; the hot-weather wind was rising and the roar and heat and +smell of it were coming closer every second. + +There were birds and animals in full flight--scores of them--even a +leopard that passed within six feet and did not pause to look at a man +on an elephant. Asoka, too, was getting difficult to manage. + +So Quorn turned down-wind, but headed southward as much as possible, +in order to make a circuit of the fire; but he had to make a very wide +circuit indeed because of Asoka's nervousness. However, Asoka was +willing, and put his best foot forward; they covered five or six miles +faster than a horse could have done it, which brought them out of the +zone of rolling smoke. + +And when they were out of the haze of the smoke Quorn presently +saw Blake on horseback on a knoll, gazing under his hand in every +direction. He clapped his spurs in and came galloping the moment he +caught sight of Asoka. + +"For God's sake, where is the Ranee?" he demanded. "What has happened?" + +Quorn was laconic. Bamjee stuck his head over the _howdah_ rail and +repeated Quorn's words after him--adding to them. + +"Go to her--for God's sake, go to her!" he almost screamed, and then +collapsed. + +But in another moment he was on his knees again, and it was Bamjee who +first caught sight of Rana Raj Singh and ten of his men moving westward +in an extended line with the long slow-swinging canter that saves +horses' strength against emergency. + +"Bloody dam-fool! Go back!" Bamjee yelled. But Rana Raj Singh came on +at a gallop, drew rein in a dust cloud and sat silent, waiting for +Blake to speak first. + +Blake told him all that he and Quorn knew. + +There was no pause between Blake's last words and Rana Raj Singh's +order to his men. They wheeled and, like eleven arrows launched out of +eleven bows, they sped back along the course by which they had come, +Blake after them, swallowing dust, and Asoka bringing up the rear in no +great hurry, since the horses' utmost limit of speed was easily within +his scope. + +They rode as a blast of wind goes ripping through the scrub. Jungle, +_nullahs_, crags and trees went past them like a motion picture, and +the horses were blowing heavily when Rana Raj Singh halted at last in +full view of a building half a mile away. + +It was a domed structure surrounded by a mud-and-stone wall, with +plenty of space between building and wall and some trees in the +inclosure. Considerably less than half a mile beyond it was another +group of trees. Rana Raj Singh pointed to them: + +"Ten of my men are in hiding near those trees. One man is up in a tree. +They have seen us." He waved his right arm. Blake's keen eyes were not +keen enough to read the answering signal from the tree-top, but Rana +Raj Singh seemed satisfied; he turned to Blake again. + +"I waited," he said, "and grew weary of waiting. I did not understand +what was happening in that hermitage, or why the Ranee did not come. A +number of Brahmins came. I was astonished; they had their high priest +with them--an unheard-of thing. They also brought a lot of ruffians +with _lathis_.[1] Then I saw the jungle on fire, and no Ranee. So I +left ten men in hiding and rode to see what might have happened. Ah! My +men come." + +[Footnote 1: Long sticks.] + + * * * * * + +Ten men armed with lances rode in to view from a depression near the +trees. They formed into a line with wide-spaced intervals and halted, +watching for a signal. Quorn drew as near to Rana Raj Singh as the +nervous horse would let him. + +"Did I hear you say, sir, that the high priest o' them Brahmins is in +that building?" + +Rana Raj Singh nodded. Quorn slowly moved Asoka forward until he was in +front of all the horses. + +"Me and you won't miss this, soldier! Durn your old hide, but you was +born lucky. A _habeas corpus_ beats an alibi. You _habeas_ the _corpus_ +o' that high priest and a legislature couldn't hang you!" + +Rana Raj Singh signalled. The men opposite approached, extending their +line as Rana Raj Singh maneuvered his ten to meet them, until they +formed a wide arc of a circle with Asoka in the midst. Blake was at +Asoka's left, Rana Raj Singh to right of him, and for a moment or two +they halted in that position while men's heads stared at them from over +the hermitage wall. + +There was evidently some confusion in the hermitage. Two men who +appeared not to be Brahmins let themselves down from the wall and took +to their heels toward the _nullah_ where the Rajputs had been hidden. + +"Catch them alive," commanded Rana Raj Singh. Two of his men gave chase. + +Then a gate of the hermitage opened and three Brahmins approached, +waving a white cloth. Rana Raj Singh rode to meet them, Blake almost +abreast of him and Quorn on Asoka keeping well within earshot. + +"Halt!" commanded Rana Raj Singh. "Where is the Ranee?" + +Bamjee came to life and knelt up in the _howdah_, clearing his throat +to shout something, but Quorn cursed him into silence. + +"She is with us in the hermitage," the Brahmin answered insolently. +"She bids you go home." + +Bamjee exploded, Quorn or no Quorn. "Liar!" he shouted. "Your highness, +that man is the go-between who tells Maraj what to do. I know him!" + +The Brahmin promptly played his trump card. "Her Highness the Ranee has +apologized to the high priest and has received his blessing. You are +to take that elephant away and shoot him. The person known as Maraj +has been imprisoned in the hermitage and will be taken to Narada to be +tried and executed. + +"We ourselves will be the Ranee's escort to Narada." + +Rana Raj Singh's men came dragging prisoners. They threw them to the +ground and held them there at the lance-point. + +"Prince, they say the Ranee is locked into a cell. There are forty +more of this sort in there, prepared to defend the place. Maraj is a +prisoner, but the Brahmins have offered him freedom if we attack and he +helps the defense." + +They tied the prisoners back to back by necks, hands and feet. There +began to be a great commotion in the hermitage--an uproar--and another +Brahmin came running, but not through the gate; he climbed the wall, +jumped, fell, hurt himself and limped, hurrying as best he could. He +stammered; it was hard to understand him. Quorn, who could see the roof +of the building better than the rest could, understood first. + +"Hell's bells!" he exclaimed. "Maraj is loose. He's on the roof. He has +turned those other guys against the Brahmins! This guy wants us to go +help the high priest! Can you beat that?" + +"Can you break that wall?" asked Rana Raj Singh. + + * * * * * + +Always the easiest thing in the world was to start Asoka smashing +things. Quorn's only immediate worry was the risk of damage to Asoka's +head, so he chose the mud-and-stone wall rather than the teak gate and +sent Asoka charging at it like a five-ton battering-ram. + +He heard Bamjee crying, "Oh, my God!" behind him--heard the thunder of +the Rajput horsemen closing in behind him, two by two, to burst through +the gap he should make, saw--through the edge of his eyes--Blake and +Rana Raj Singh slightly to his rear, one on either flank, distinctly +heard and felt the _ping_ of several bullets, thought he heard Blake +answer them, and was dimly aware that a man on the roof was shooting at +him, but kept on missing. + +Then came the shudder and shock as Asoka struck the wall with his +enormous forehead--strained his weight against it--grunted--and a +section of the wall fell inward in a cloud of dust. + +[Illustration: _Then came the shudder and shock as Asoka struck the +wall with his enormous forehead._] + +Asoka staggered through the gap. Behind him the horsemen streamed +through, wheeling right and left. And then confusion, in which Bamjee +scrambled to the ground by clinging to Asoka's tail and vanished into +the building. + +Asoka swung a limp trunk, swaying with his eyes shut, more than +half-stunned by the impact. Quorn slipped to the ground. + +"Lean against that wall, you sucker. Keep your feet. No lying down or +you'll kid yourself you're all in." + +For a moment or two he watched the elephant, since that was his first +charge. He decided Asoka would stand there--at the worst he would +hardly stray far--at the utmost worst he might stagger off home to the +elephant lines in Narada; but he was likeliest to stand. + +He left him. There was fighting going on in every direction--horsemen +charging; Brahmins and their own hired ruffians at throat-grips, +some of them rolling on the ground together; other ruffians trying to +climb the wall and being skewered by the Rajput lances; two men in +the gap to guard that, sabering whoever tried to slip through; and a +maniac--a leaping maniac--a prancing, yelling maniac who jabbered in an +unknown tongue as he raced around the parapet of the rambling building, +brandishing an empty Colt revolver. + +"Maraj!" Quorn muttered to himself. "I guess you're my meat!" + +But he had no weapon, nor any notion how he was going to kill the +maniac. He ran all along the building looking for an entrance. There +were dozens of doors, all leading into cells, but he came on a passage +at last that led between two cells into a dark hall under a dome, with +columns to support the dome. + +He saw the Ranee leaning on Rana Raj Singh's arm. The prince's saber +was all bloody and there were several dead men lying around the door of +the cell from which the Ranee had been rescued. The door had not been +opened, it was smashed in, but Quorn had not time to be curious how +that had happened--he saw a stairway leading to the roof. + +It was narrow. Near its summit stood the high priest, taking refuge +there for fear his sacred person might be defiled by the touch of +common mortals--much more afraid of that than of being killed or +injured. In fact, he did not appear afraid. + +Quorn charged up the steps. The high priest retreated in front of him, +dreading that Quorn might bump against him. Three steps backward, and +he bumped into the door that opened on the roof--it yielded, and there +he was out on the roof with Quorn staring at him, until Maraj came +prancing along the parapet. + +The high priest looked afraid then, as Maraj paused, grinning at +him--grinning at Quorn, too: and Quorn cursed himself for a bigger +idiot than any one, because he had no weapon. Maraj twisted the Colt +revolver in his hands, broke it as if his hands were a gorilla's, +dropped it as if he had never been conscious of it. And then human +speech returned to him. + +"The oh, so holy--twice born--high priest--who commanded Maraj to be +tied and--handed over--in Narada--to the judge--and the executioner!" + + * * * * * + +Maraj glanced down from the parapet. Asoka stood beneath him, midway +between wall and building, shaking his head, but with his eyes open +now. Suddenly Maraj came leaping at the high priest, seized him, +crushed him in a right arm that was like a vise. He caught Quorn with +the other hand and nearly crushed his ribs. + +"You shall come and learn what Maraj knows!" + +Quorn's right hand was free; he rained blows on the maniac's face, but +their only effect was to make him tighten the terrific grip. The high +priest groaned with the agony of in-bent ribs. Maraj hove both of them +off their feet and rushed toward the parapet, mounted it, paused there. +He laughed so loud that even the fighting Rajputs looked up. Shouting +something, in an unknown tongue again, and hugging his captives, he +leaped, feet first for Asoka's back. + +Asoka moved away from under them--by instinct perhaps, intuition, +whatever it is that forewarns animals. Quorn's feet struck Asoka's +forehead, which set all three men turning in the air. Maraj struggled, +clinging to Quorn and the high priest, trying to turn them under him +and break his own fall, but the reverse of that happened; his back +struck the earth. Quorn and the high priest fell on top of him, the +high priest with a broken shoulder and Quorn shaken up but not hurt +otherwise. + +He rolled clear. Then he dragged the high priest free, and swung +him roughly out of reach of Asoka's trunk and forefoot that were +dangerously close. + +Maraj seemed dead--but suddenly he sat up, staring at Asoka. He seemed +to remember something about that elephant. + +Asoka, too, seemed to remember; he rumbled. Then Maraj saw Quorn, and +then the high priest. Suddenly he tried to stand up, but his legs +refused to function, so he rolled--he tried to seize the high priest by +the leg. Quorn spoke quite quietly: + +"There's your alibi, Asoka--soak him!" + +It was only two steps forward--one foot on the belly of the maniac, the +other on his head. Quorn took Asoka by the trunk and turned him around, +led him to where he had left him near the gap in the wall. + +"You win," he said, "you great big lucky stiff! I think you done it in +a dream. I don't believe you know which end of you is your head. I hope +your skull ain't split--you hit that wall a hummer." + +Then the Ranee and the prince, and many Brahmins clustering around the +high priest, some of them bruised and bloody, and every one of them +as nervous as a wet hen because they had been defiled by the touch of +low-caste ruffians. + +The Ranee's voice--a stern note that Quorn had never heard +before--the high priest answering, and all the Brahmins echoing him in +chorus--promises, Quorn supposed--agreements, to be broken when the +time came. Pity she couldn't hang 'em all. He sat down, more stunned +than he had realized he was, his head so swimming that it was several +seconds before he recognized Bamjee with a big ax in his hand. + +"We win, I think," said Bamjee, "both of us! I chopped the door down +while the prince was slaying dragons--six men at least! Oh, my God! I +chopped with all that going on behind me--think of it! But it was I who +released her from the cell--can she forget that?" + +Then the Ranee's voice, the Ranee's sweet young face amid a sea of +others that persisted in whirling around in a circle. Somewhere in the +whirl Blake's monocle and a glimpse of Blake cleaning an automatic with +his handkerchief. + +"I thank you, Sirdar Benjamin Quorn. Do you think you could make Asoka +understand how much I thank him?" + +And then Blake's voice: "Gad! I don't know, Quorn--I might--you never +know--I might be able to persuade our government to recognize that +title. Do my best, old fellow--do my best for you at any time!" + + + THE END. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77653 *** |
