Part 18 (1/2)

”Yes! it's pretty good,” a.s.sented the doctor, placidly, as, keeping step, the two pa.s.sed out of the tent, so down the palm avenue towards the gaol, which the Commissioner was going to inspect. ”It comes of their being idle. Wait till I get them digging again. I'll work the mischief out of them. When are we going on; and where?”

His companion shook his head. ”Can't get an answer out of the Public Works. Is there anything you would like done, meanwhile?”

Dr. Dillon laughed sardonically. ”Pretty considerable, rather! Only it would take months to get sanction. But, if you pa.s.s it, Smith says he could put a wire on from the Fort easily in a day. It would save sending by road if there was trouble, and the great thing is to hit back as quick as you can. The mutiny taught us that.”

”Ay,” said the Commissioner, musingly, ”that's the straight tip; and that's why steam and electricity rule India. One can be ready without letting people know. If that had been the case in the mutiny--” he shrugged his shoulders, then went on--”these things come so easily; a touch starts them; but you mustn't show that you know it. Still, if you thought there would be any difficulty--I mean if you mightn't be able to hold your own till they came from the Fort--we might make some excuse for quartering a troop closer.”

Dr. Dillon shook his head. ”It isn't worth it. I believe myself they'll settle down when that big brute, Gopi, I told you about, gets his ticket to-morrow. If I didn't want to get rid of him I'd put him in cells for six weeks. And there's a warder, too,--or perhaps more. But there's no fear. I could hold the whole 'biz' myself, till the brutes managed to get off their leg irons, and as I keep every tool _extra mural_, I don't believe there's a bit of iron within the walls--except the shackles themselves. So I should have an hour or two, anyhow--”

”Now, here you are,” he continued, with pardonable pride, as they pa.s.sed under the mud archway which led into the gaol; a long archway with a ma.s.sive door at either end, tunnelling a square block of flat-roofed building. ”You'll find everything spick and span, I can tell you, for I've been making the beggars polish their own leg irons, so as to keep 'em a bit busy.”

It was, indeed, spick and span, as only an Indian gaol can be, where everything, including the prisoners' beds, is freshly mud-plastered every week. Spick and span in a mere monotony of mud and lack of colour. The prisoners, fifteen hundred of them or more, stood in four long, straight rows, naked save for their waistcloths and the eared caps on their shaven heads; their blankets, folded to a small square under their feet, giving them a strangely wooden appearance, as if they stood on stands, like the figures in Noah's ark.

A couple of policemen fell out and drew their truncheons to walk close behind the Commissioner; but Dr. Dillon waved his pair back.

”Never show you expect anything,” he said laconically, ”and as I've always refused a guard, I can't take one now.”

Nor was there any apparent need for one. Some faces scowled at him, but most were occupied with the Commissioner, who, when a prisoner raised his hand, paused to take the written pet.i.tion which, nine times out of ten, was ready for presentation.

”There must be a good many warders in it,” remarked the Commissioner, dryly. And the doctor nodded.

”Now there's only the hospital,” said the latter, when the solitary cells had been inspected, the cook room interviewed, and the dinner to come tasted. ”It won't take you long. There was only one case in this morning.”

But as they entered the long open ward, like a cloister, mud-plastered as all else, but with iron beds looking strangely at variance with their surroundings, two of these were occupied, and at one, a hospital dresser was standing, looking somewhat scared.

Dr. Dillon gave a hasty exclamation as he stepped up to the bed and looked at the sick man.

”When did he come in?” he asked briefly.

”Ten minutes ago, _Huzoor_; the _baboo_ hath given him--”

”Never mind what he hath given him,” interrupted the doctor, holding up his hand in warning, ”go on with it, and tell the _baboo-sahib_ to come to me for orders--at once. Now then, sir, that's all--and a bit too much too--” he added in a lower voice, as they pa.s.sed out together, ”for it's a case of cholera.”

The Commissioner looked grave. ”That will complicate matters, won't it?”

”Can't say. You never can tell. They may take it as a dispensation, or there may never be another case. That fellow's done for, anyhow--he'll be dead in an hour.”

”That's quick, isn't it?” asked his companion, calmly.

”Rather. I've seen a man go out in ten minutes, though. The worst of it is,” he added, with a frown, ”if there really is some conspiracy at the bottom of the discontent, it is as likely as not the devils who are working it, may take advantage of this--I don't mean of this death--_that_ goes without saying. But when cholera is about, poison is hard to detect, and even if I stamp out the _disease_, which I mean to do, they may simulate it.” He bit at his thumbnail viciously as he strode on, thinking and muttering. ”By G.o.d!” he murmured, ”if I could catch 'em at it! However,” he added aloud, ”it's no good fussing. If the thing comes, it comes, and I've kept you here too long as it is, sir. Do you know it's close on half-past ten?”

”Be jabers!” exclaimed the Commissioner, ”only twenty minutes to bathe, shave, breakfast, and put on me gold lace continuations. Well, ta, ta!

I'll see you at the show, of course.”

Dr. Dillon looked puzzled for an instant; the puzzledom of a man whose thoughts are recalled from afar. ”The show? Oh, yes! I was forgetting.

Rather, sir. Why! it is as much my ca.n.a.l as Smith's, for we've done every inch of it together; besides, I have got to drive his wife down.”

”Where the deuce is Dering?” asked the Commissioner, quite ingenuously; but George Dillon flushed up. It was visible even under his leather-like tan.