Part 48 (2/2)

”Nothing,” he replied in the half-bantering tone he so often used toward her; ”I have more than my fair share of things already, surely!

I was only meditating on the word 'Om'--the final mystery of all things.”

So, in a way, he was. On the mystery of fatherhood and motherhood, which had nothing to do with that pure idyl of romantic pa.s.sion on the terraced roof at Lucknow, yet which seemed to touch him here, where there was not even love. Yet it was a better thing. The pa.s.sion of protection, of absolute self-forgetfulness, seeking no reward, which the sight of those two raised in him, was a better thing than that absorption in another self. The thought made him cross over to where Kate sat with the child in her lap, and say gravely:

”The _creche_ is more interesting than the convalescent home, at least to me, Mrs. Erlton! I shall be quite sorry when it ends.”

”When it ends?” she echoed quickly. ”There is nothing wrong, is there?

Sonny has been so good, and that time when he was naughty the sweeper-woman seemed quite satisfied when Tara said he was speaking Pushtoo.”

”But it cannot last for all that,” he replied. ”It is dangerous. I feel it is. This is the 5th, and I am nearly all right. I must get Tiddu to arrange for Sonny first. Then for you.”

”And you?” she asked.

”I'll follow. It will be safer, and there is no fear for me. I can't understand why I've had no answer from your husband. The letter went two days ago, and I am convinced we ought.”

The frown was back on his face, the restlessness in his brain; and both grew when in private talk with Tiddu the latter hinted at suspicions in the caravan which had made it necessary for him to be very cautious. The letter, therefore, had certainly been delayed, might never have reached. If no answer came by the morrow, he himself would take the opportunity of a portion of the caravan having a permit to pa.s.s out, and so insure the news reaching the Ridge; trusting to get into the city again without delay, though the gates were very strictly kept. Nevertheless, in his opinion, the Huzoor would be wiser with patience. There was no immediate danger in continuing as they were, and the end could not be long if it were true that the great Nikalseyn was with the Punjab reinforcements. Since all the world knew that Nikalseyn was the prince of sahibs, having the gift, not only of being all things to all people, but of making all people be all things to him, which was more than the Baharupas could do.

In truth, the news that John Nicholson was coming to Delhi made even Jim Douglas hesitate at risking anything unnecessarily, so long as things went smoothly. As for the letter to Major Erlton, it was no doubt true that the number of spies sending information to the Ridge had made it difficult of late to send any, since the guards were on the alert.

It was, indeed, even for the Queen herself, who had a missive she was peculiarly anxious should not fall into strange hands.

”There is no fear, Ornament of Palaces,” said Ahsan-Oolah urbanely; ”I will stake my life on its reaching.” He did not add that his chief reason for saying so was that a similar letter, written by the King, had been safely delivered by Rujjub Ali, the spy, whose house lay conveniently near the physician's own, and from whom both the latter and Elahi-Buksh heard authentic news from the Ridge. News which made them both pity the poor old pantaloon who, as they knew well, had been a mere puppet in stronger hands. And these two, laying their heads together, in one of those kaleidoscope combinations of intrigue which made Delhi politics a puzzle even at the time, advised the King to use the _vox celeste_ as an antidote to the _vox humana_ of the city, which was being so diligently fostered by the Queen and Bukht Khan.

Let him say he was too old for this world, let him profess himself unable longer to cope with his coercers and claim to be allowed to resign and become a fakir! But the dream still lingered in the old man's brain. He loved the brocaded bags, he loved the new cus.h.i.+on of the Peac.o.c.k throne; and though the c.o.c.katoo's crest was once more showing a yellow tinge through the green, the thought of jehad lingered sanctimoniously. But other folk in the Palace were beginning to awake. Other people in Delhi besides Tiddu had heard that Nikalseyn was on his way from the Punjab and not even the rose-red walls had been able to keep out his reputation. Folk talked of him in whispers.

The soldiers, unable to retreat, unwilling to fight, swore loudly that they were betrayed; that there were too many spies in the city. Of that there could be no doubt. Were not letters found concealed in innocent looking cakes and such like? Had not one, vaguely suggesting that some cursed infidels were still concealed in the city, been brought in for reward by a Bunjarah who swore he had picked it up by chance? The tales grew by the telling in the Thunbi Bazaar, making Prince Abool-Bukr, who had returned to it incontinently after the disastrous failure of faith on the 2d, hiccough magnificently that, poor as he was, he would give ten golden mohurs to anyone who would set him on the track of a h.e.l.l-doomed. Yea! folk might laugh, but he was good for ten still. Ay! and a rupee besides, to have the offer cried through the bazaar; so there would be an end to scoffers!

”What is't?” asked the languid loungers in the wooden balconies, as the drum came beating down the street.

”Only Abool offering ten mohurs for a Christian to kill,” said one.

”And he swore he had not a rupee when I danced for him but yesterday,”

said another.

”He has to pay Newasi, sister,” yawned a third.

”Then let her dance for him--I do it no longer,” retorted the grumbler.

So the crier and his drums pa.s.sed down the scoffing bazaar. ”He will find many at that price,” quoth some, winking at their neighbors; for the Prince was a b.u.t.t when in his cups.

Thus at earliest dawn next morning, the 7th of August, Tiddu gave a signal knock at the door of the roof, rousing Jim Douglas who, since the child's arrival, had taken to sleeping across it once more.

”There is danger in the air, Huzoor,” he said briefly; ”they cried a reward for the infidels in the bazaar yesterday. There is talk of some letter.”

”The child must go--go at once,” replied his hearer, alert in an instant; but Tiddu shook his head.

”Not till dark, Huzoor. The bullocks are to pa.s.s out with the moon, and he must pa.s.s out with them. In a sack, Huzoor. Say nothing till the last. Then, the Huzoor knows the cloth merchant's by the Delhi gate?”

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