Part 12 (1/2)
CHAPTER XIII.
After Zynool's departure, Mark sat down to examine certain blue books which the Judge recommended for his perusal, but the late interview rankled. He could not concentrate his attention, and thought, with a sigh, how speedily he had been brought face to face with one of the unpleasant realities of official life. Even his vanity had received a shock. Did he look so clearly on the surface a man likely to have his price? The idea was revolting. Should he tell the Collector what had occurred or would it be best to bury the incident fathoms deep, was the query which haunted him throughout the remainder of the office hours.
The Judge before leaving looked into the new a.s.sistant's room with a friendly smile to see how he had been finding his way, and suggested that they should walk home together. Mark cheerfully a.s.sented, delighted to find that in this land of carriages one was sometimes permitted to use one's legs. The sun had lost its scorching element, and leafy Puranapore was bathed in a soft yellow radiance which reminded him of an autumn evening at home. A gentle breeze stirred the tree tops as their lengthening shadows fell on the white ribbon-like road. The twilight hour conduces to confidences, and Mark felt moved to introduce the unpleasant experience of the morning which was still uppermost in his mind, feeling that he could find no wiser confident than the trusty man of law by whose side he walked. But just as he was bracing himself to unfold the incident, he perceived Mrs. Goldring and her daughter coming towards them. Recalling her supercilious nod of the previous evening, he was surprised to receive quite a gracious greeting from the Judge's wife.
Jane, with a joyous smile, sprang forward to take her father's arm, and Mark found himself by Mrs. Goldring's side. After expatiating on the pleasures of an evening stroll, she remarked that it was unfortunate the Collector was unable to be at his office, though how she came to be aware of the fact she did not divulge. Mark had yet to learn that the station was like a gla.s.s house, all its happenings common property. It is true Mrs. Goldring did not generally lay herself out for the reception of servants' gossip after the manner of Mrs. Samptor, but her encounter with the Collector still rankled, and she decided to follow her little neighbour's methods in being on the outlook for gossip; and also, for the present, to hide her adverse feelings towards the new a.s.sistant so that, if possible, she might sow discord between him and his chief. Having heard from her ayah that the Collector was ”resting”
to-day, she determined that she would waylay the young man, and give him some hint of the foibles of his master. She certainly succeeded in startling Mark when she suddenly glanced at him keenly, saying:
”You had a visit from that chief of snakes, Zynool, this morning, I understand?”
Politeness forbade him to turn abruptly to his interlocutor and ask how she came by this piece of news; he therefore only a.s.sented briefly.
”I may as well warn you, Mr. Cheveril, in confidence, of course, that we all deplore the Collector's infatuation for Mahomedans. The favours he grants them are spelling mischief down there in the town, as Dr.
Campbell will tell you, though my husband may be too loyal to his brother-civilian to speak his mind,” she added, turning half round and rolling her protruding eyes upon the pair behind who were gaily chatting, their thoughts far away from the squabbles of station life.
Mark's first impulse was to a.s.sure his companion that in the present instance, at all events, Zynool Sahib had shown no desire to interview his chief, but on the contrary had planned his visit in his absence so that he might take stock of the new a.s.sistant; but he felt disinclined to make a confidante to the smallest extent of the lady by his side, who continued excitedly:
”You will have the whole story soon enough, so I may as well unfold it at once, Mr. Cheveril. That Mahomedan butler of his has great influence with the Collector. My husband tries to excuse Mr. Worsley by saying he is not in the least aware that the man goes out of his own province, or he would not tolerate it for a moment. But do we not know there are none so blind as those who won't see? Well, this Moideen is a poor relation of Zynool, who is one of the richest men in the town, and it is he who set him to work on his master for permission to build a mosque on an ancient site.”
”But that was surely a legitimate enough request,” interjected Mark.
”Ah, but listen! The whole thing was a wicked plot on the part of the Mussulmans to annoy their neighbours. The site was near the river and the burning-ghaut of the Hindus; and so, of course, they have been up in arms more or less ever since. Now wasn't that a most unprincipled proceeding, Mr. Cheveril?”
”On whose part?” asked Mark coldly.
The chilliness of his tone was not lost on Mrs. Goldring, who tossed her head, saying:
”On whoever the cap fits! For my part I've never had any doubt who is the real culprit, but my position forbids me to say.”
The usual tennis-party was to be held that evening in Mrs. Goldring's compound. The hostess never doubted that the new a.s.sistant would put in an appearance after the favour she had been extending to him. She was not a little mortified, therefore, when he politely declined, pleading as his excuse, when she pressed him, that he must see how the Collector was now, and, if well enough, keep him company.
”Believe me, you are wasting your fragrance on the desert air, Mr.
Cheveril. The Collector vastly prefers his cheroot and Moideen's company to yours or mine,” said Mrs. Goldring with a malicious air. But Mark lifted his hat and disappeared down Mr. Worsley's avenue.
The late conversation had by no means a rea.s.suring effect on the young man. He glanced with new interest on Moideen. Beneath his obsequious demeanour, he thought he could detect an uneasy smile as he met him and ushered him into his master's writing-room. The Collector welcomed him with a cordial smile, making light of his morning's ailment.
”It was only a touch of liver, though Moideen tried to make me believe I was in the grip of fever.” Then he turned to talk of office matters, and was anxious to hear Mark's impressions of his first day at his new work.
After briefly recording the business which the clerks had put into his hands, he led up to the visit of Zynool.
”So the rascal turned up at last!” said the Collector. ”I've been summoning him for weeks, and he has evaded me. Now he comes the only day I've been away since I was on tour.”
Mark was about to remark that it was clear now that it was owing to his absence the Mahomedan had presented himself that morning.
”Then you don't like the man?” he asked, with an air of relief, remembering Mrs. Goldring's a.s.sertion that Zynool and the Collector were hand-in-glove. ”My impression was certainly most unfavourable,” he said, the blood mounting to his face, ”as you will believe when I tell you that without any ostensible cause he actually approached me with a bribe--drew from the inner folds of his muslin a bag of gold, and said he wished to lay a gift in my palm. He looked daggers when I told him to pick up his money and go. Rather a humiliating experience for my first day in office, wasn't it? I hope I don't look a likely subject,” wound up Mark, with rather a sore smile.