Part 47 (2/2)

All this was easy without Sonny. The only chance now was to stop his prattle even by force, give the excuse that other women were within, and trust to a man's quickness outside.

Vain hope! Sonny wriggled like an eel, and, just as the expected knock came, evaded her silencing hand, so that the roof rang with outraged yells:

”Oh! 'oo's hurtin' me! Oo's hurtin' me!”

Without the words even, the sound was unmistakable. No native child was ever so ear-piercing, so wildly indignant. Kate, beside herself, tried soothings and force distractedly, in the midst of which an imperative voice called fiercely:

”Open the door quick, for G.o.d's sake! Anything's better than that.”

For the moment, doubtless, Sonny's yells ending with victory; but another cry came sharp and short, as--the door giving under Kate's hasty fingers--two men tumbled over the threshold. Jim Douglas uppermost, his hands gripping the other's throat.

”Shut the door!” he gasped. ”Lock it. Then my revolver--no--a knife-- no noise--quick. I can't hold--the brute long.”

Kate turned and ran mechanically, and the steel in her hand gleamed as she flew back. Jim Douglas, digging his knees into the ribs below them, loosened one hand cautiously from the throat and held it out, trembling, eager.

But Kate saw his face. It might have been the Gorgon's, for she stood as if turned to stone.

”Don't be a fool!” he panted--”give it me! It's the only----” A sudden twist beneath him sent his hand back to the throat. ”It's--it's death anyway----”

Death! What did that matter? she asked herself. Let it come, rather than murder!

”No!” she said suddenly, ”you shall not. It is not worth it.” The knife, flung backward, fell with a clang, but the eyes which--though that choking grip on the throat made all things dim--had been fixed on its gleam, turned swiftly to those above them and the writhing body lay still as a corpse. None too soon, for Jim Douglas was almost spent.

”A rope,” he muttered briefly, ”or stay, your veil will do.”

But Kate, trembling with the great pa.s.sion and pity of her decision, had scarce removed it ere Jim Douglas, changing his mind, rose to his feet, leaving his antagonist free to do so likewise.

”Get up, Tiddu,” he said breathlessly, ”and thank the mem for saving your life. But the door's locked, and if you don't swear----”

”The Huzoor need not threaten,” retorted Tiddu, far more calmly as he retwisted his rag of a turban. ”The Many-Faced know grat.i.tude. They do not fall on those who find them helpless and protect them.”

The thrust was keen, for in truth the old Baharupa had, not half an hour before, by sheer chance found his pupil in difficulties and insisted on seeing him safe home, and on his promising not to go out again till he was stronger; to both of which coercions Jim Douglas, in order to evade suspicion, had consented. Yet, but for Kate, he would have knifed the old man remorselessly. Even now he felt doubtful.

Tiddu, however, saved him further anxiety by stepping close to Kate and salaaming theatrically.

”By Murri-am and the neem, the mem is as my mother, the child as my child.”

So, for the first time, both he and Jim Douglas looked toward Sonny, who, with wide-planted legs and wondering eyes, had been watching Tiddu solemnly; the quaintest little figure with his red and white cheeks and black muzzle.

The old mime burst into a guffaw. ”_Wah!_ what a monkeyling! _Wah!_ what a _tamasha_” (spectacle), he cried, squatting down on his heels to look closer. In truth Sonny was like a hill baboon, especially when he smiled too; broadly, expectantly, at the familiar word.

”_Tamatha-wallah!_” he said superbly, ”_bunao ramatha, juldi bunao!_” (Make an amus.e.m.e.nt; make it quick.)

Tiddu, a child himself like all his race in his delight in children, a child also in his capacity of sudden serenity, caught up Kate's fallen veil, and in an instant dashed into the hackneyed part of the daughter-in-law, while Kate and Jim Douglas stared; left behind, as it were, by this strange irresponsible pair--the mimic of life, and the child ignorant of what was mimicked. Tragedy a minute ago! Now Farce!

They looked at each other, startled, for sympathy.

”Make a funny man now,” came Sonny's confident voice, ”a funny man behind a curtain--a funny man wif a gween face an' a white face, an' a lot of fwowers an' a bit o' tring.”

Tiddu looked round quickly at Jim Douglas. ”_Wah!_” he said, ”the little Huzoor has a good memory. He remembers the Lord of Life and Death.”

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