Part 36 (1/2)

”Of the money you stole!” cried his wife, with a ring of scorn in her voice. ”Not a penny of it! Come what may, it must all be returned to the Mahomedan, whoever he is,” she added with decision. The incident seemed to brace her thoughts, though she was conscious that the fact of her husband offering her a share of his theft emphasised the gulf between them. Something of this seemed to strike him also. He stood staring at her with misery in his eyes.

”Oh, Hester, what a hideous mess I've brought you into!” he burst forth.

”But you'll not forsake me, will you? This horrid hunt for me will not last long. I'll get off scot free, never fear. We may be able to meet soon and go to England together. I'll send you word. If not together, I'll hurry there, and you'll meet me, won't you, dear?” he asked, clinging to her.

Hester started back on seeing the growing light of the sky.

”Alfred, you're forgetting the risk you run by lingering like this. You must go as long as it is possible. See, it will be day soon. Oh, do go, I implore you,” she cried in terror, thinking she heard sounds in the back verandah, and almost pus.h.i.+ng him down the steps. ”I cannot let you peris.h.!.+ Go, go, oh, do go!”

”I fear I can't risk my make-up by an embrace,” he said lightly, looking back as he began to go down the steps. But when he reached the gravel, he darted up again and threw his arms round her trembling figure, kissing her pa.s.sionately; then he fled, just as the silver dawn was chasing the last shadows of night from the sky.

Hester stood a silent statuesque figure, watching her husband as he disappeared along the avenue of casuarina trees. Then her dauntless spirit gave way and she fell down in a faint.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

Alfred Rayner in disguise, limping over the hard road with his bare brown-stained feet, and trammelled by his unwonted garb, made slow progress. At length he reached the railway station. It was empty save for a few stray pa.s.sengers who had stepped out of a train which had just steamed in. He hurried to the ticket-office, and adapting his ”muns.h.i.+”

acquired Tamil as closely as possible to the servants' patois, asked for a third-cla.s.s ticket for Beypore, the clerk volunteering the information that a train was just starting.

Rayner hurried to the platform and saw some pa.s.sengers, all natives, scrambling into the carriages of the waiting train with many bundles and much vociferation. He reckoned himself fortunate to secure an empty one, and seated himself on the hard bench with a relieved air.

”Off at last, and not a single pair of eyes to pry on me--or worse, thank goodness!” he muttered. ”There might have been a force of police lying in wait. But who would recognise the defaulting barrister in this old hag of an ayah? I mustn't forget for one instant that I am an old ayah, or else woe betide me!”

The fugitive tried to make himself as comfortable as his circ.u.mstances would admit, resolving to secure a period of sleep and at the first break in the journey to fortify himself by a good breakfast. This, however, he feared might not be for some time seeing the train, for an express, was going at an unaccountably slow pace. Sheer exhaustion came to his aid, and he fell into a deep sleep, only to awake when the train pulled up at a station.

”Now for some breakfast, I'm desperately hungry!” he said, yawning and stretching himself with an air of satisfaction, which soon changed to bewilderment when he observed that the few pa.s.sengers were all tumbling out of their respective carriages, and that the train had evidently reached its terminus.

Rubbing his eyes he peered out, perceiving to his dismay the familiar station of Puranapore. Mistaking this train for the express for Beypore, he had been carried to the place which of all others he would have wished to avoid.

”Good heavens!” he muttered, throwing himself back on the carnage bench.

”And the very first person I see may be Zynool himself!” Then to his relief he remembered that, after all, he appeared as an old Hindu ayah, on whom the haughty Mussulman would not deign to look.

He slipped out of the carriage, saying to himself: ”I must feign rheumatics and limp a bit!”

In spite of his confidence in his disguise, he could not help glancing furtively round. n.o.body, however, seemed to be taking any account of the harmless looking old woman. In fact, there seemed to be some absorbing preoccupation filling the minds of all the bystanders. The new arrivals hung about with an air of trouble on their faces, their bundles deposited by their sides, as they listened open-mouthed to the native porters, who were expatiating volubly on some matter which was evidently of general interest. The Eurasian station-master had a worried air, and, in coming in contact with the supposed ayah, bustled her unceremoniously aside.

The question with Rayner, meanwhile, was not to discover the topic of interest, but how he could proceed to Beypore. This involved some inquiries, and he was timid in his first attempts at personating his fict.i.tious character.

”After all, I'm not an ancient crone but a man of the world,” he a.s.sured himself, as he limped towards the little shelf behind which a Eurasian boy sold dog-eared, dust-begrimed books and newspapers. He laid his hands on a time-table, and threw down the required anna in payment, then without uttering a word he withdrew to a quiet corner to study it. He found to his disappointment that only by returning to Madras could he entrain for Beypore. To the Central station he must go, that was inevitable, but at what a risk! Ever and anon during his cogitations he had to remind himself that owing to his disguise the chance of discovery was slight. Still, in the familiar precincts of the Madras station, the risk in daylight would be too great to run, besides he had not nerve for it, he decided. He must then perforce linger at Puranapore till after dark, and then take a return train which would fit in with the express for Beypore in the early morning.

To be a whole day in Puranapore was a dismal prospect, but it had to be faced. As an old ayah he could sleep away most of it in the women's third-cla.s.s waiting-room. He resolved now to secure breakfast, but there were no possibilities for this in the little station. He therefore prepared to make his way out, not without some trepidation, as it was his first real experience of testing his disguise. Addressing the ticket collector who stood at the gate, he explained that he had stepped into the wrong train at Madras, being bound for Beypore, not Puranapore, and was therefore minus a ticket, but had the fare ready in his hand.

The porter replied in a kindly tone in his native tongue.

”What matters the ticket, old mother, on this day--an unlucky day for you to come to our town. We need more the soldiers than an old woman.”

Rayner, in a humble voice, asked the reason of this.

”What, you don't know there's fighting and rioting between Hindus and Mahomedans afoot here since last night? It is said they are to be at it again to-night only worse. This is the Mohurrum; but like me, not being caste Hindu, you don't bother about their squabbles.”