Part 3 (2/2)
For two days the Bagrees sat nursing their wrath at the reproaches of Dewan Sewlal.
And the Dewan, in spite of his bold denunciation of the decoits, was uneasy. If they went back to Karowlee with a story of ill treatment, of broken promises, that hot-headed old Rajput would turn against Sindhia. And the present policy of the Mahratta Confederacy was to secure allies in the revolt against the British which was being secretly planned. The Dewan was also afraid of Nana Sahib. He saw in that young man a coming force. The Peshwa was actually the ruler of Mahrattaland; he had a commanding influence because he was the head of the Brahmins--the Brahmins were the real power--and his adopted son, his inborn subtle nature developed by his residence in England, now had great influence over him. The Dewan knew that; and if he failed to carry out this mission of removing the dangerous one from Nana Sahib's path it might cost him his place as Minister.
In his perplexity the Dewan asked Baptiste to formulate some excuse for getting Nana Sahib up to Chunda--some matter affecting the troops, so that he might casually get a sustaining suggestion from the wily Prince.
It so happened that when Nana Sahib swung up the gravelled drive to the Sirdar's bungalow on a golden chestnut Arab, Sewlal was there. But when, presently, Baptiste's _durwan_ came in to say that Jamadar Hunsa of the new troops was sending his salaams to the Dewan, the latter gasped. He would have told the Bagree to wait, but Nana Sahib, catching the name Hunsa, commanded:
”By all means, my dear Baptiste, have that living embodiment of murder in. His face is a delight. You know”--and he smiled at the General--”that that frightfulness of expression is the very reason why the genial Kali has such a hold upon our people. You've seen her, Baptiste; four arms, one holding a platter to catch the blood that drips from a head she suspends above it by another arm; the third hand clasps a sword, and the fourth has the palm spread out as much as to say, 'That is what will happen to you.'”
The Frenchman s.h.i.+vered. He was snapping a finger and thumb in mental torture.
But Nana Sahib chuckled: ”Her tongue protrudes thirsting for more blood--”
But the Sirdar protested: ”Prince--pardon, but--”
”My dear Baptiste, when the Hunsa comes in observe if these things are not all stamped by Brahm on his frontispiece; he fascinates me.”
The Dewan, devout Brahmin, had been running his fingers along a string of lacquered beads that hung about his neck, muttering a prayer against this that was like sacrilege.
When the jamadar was shown into the room his face took on a look of uneasiness. It but added to the ferocity of the square scowling ma.s.sive head. His huge shoulders, stooped forward as he salaamed, suggested the half-crouch of a tiger--even the eyes, the mouth, induced thoughts of that jungle killer.
Nana Sahib, a sneer on his lips, turned to the Minister: ”Play him, Dewani, as you love us. There is some rare deviltry afloat.”
”Why have you come, Jamadar?” the Dewan asked.
Hunsa's pig eyes s.h.i.+fted from Sewlal's face to roam over the other two, and then returned a question in them.
”Tell him,” Nana Sahib suggested, ”that he has nothing to fear from us.”
The jamadar was troubled by the English exchange, but the Dewan explained: ”The Prince says you are to speak what is on your mind.”
”It is this, Sahib Bahadur,” Hunsa began, ”there is a way that the head of Amir Khan might be obtained as a gift for Maharaja Sindhia. Then Raja Karowlee would be pleased for he would receive his commission and we would be given a reward.”
”What is the way?” Sewlal queried.
”The Chief of the Pindaris, after the habit of Moslems, is one whose heart softens toward a woman who is beautiful and is pleasing to his eye.”
”Ancient history,” Nana Sahib commented in English, ”and not confined to Musselmen.”
”Speak on,” the Dewan commanded curtly.
”When I rode with Amir Khan,” Hunsa resumed, ”in loot there fell to the Chief's share a dancing girl, and Amir Khan, perhaps out of respect to his two wives, would visit her at night quietly in the tent that was given her as a place of residing.”
”Amir Khan seems to be less a Pindari and more a human than I thought him,” Nana Sahib commented drily.
”The world is a very small place, Prince,” Baptiste added.
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