Part 14 (1/2)

”You must, Gulab.”

”No, Bootea will not.”

Barlow stared angrily into the big eyes that were lifted to his, that though they lingered in soft loving upon his face, told him that she would not tell, that she would die first; even as he would have given his life if he had been captured by tribesmen and asked to betray his fellow men as the price of liberty.

He threw himself back wearily in the chair. ”Why tell me this now,--to mock me, to exult?” he said, reproach in his voice.

”But it is the message, Sahib, that is more than the life of a _sepoy_, is it not?”

Again he sat up: ”Why do you say this--do you know where it is?”

She drew from beneath her bodice the sandal soles, saying: ”These are from the feet of the messenger who is dead. The one the Sahib beat over the head with his pistol dropped them,--and he was carrying them for a purpose. The Sahib knows, perhaps, the secret way of this land.”

In the girl's hand was clasped the knife from her girdle, and she tendered it, hilt first: ”Bootea knows not if they are of value, the leather soles, but if the Sahib would open them, then if there are eyes that watch the curtains are drawn.”

Barlow revivified, stimulated by hope, seized the knife and ran its sharp point around the st.i.tching of the soles. Between the double leather of one lay a thin, strong parchment-like paper.

He gave a cry of exultation as, unfolding it, he saw the seal of his Raj. His cry was a gasp of relief. Almost the shatterment of his career had lain in that worn discoloured sole, and disaster to his Raj if it had fallen into the hands of the conspirators.

In an ecstasy of relief he sprang to his feet, and lifting Bootea, clasped her in his arms, smothering her face in kisses, whispering: ”Gulab, you are my preserver; you are the sweetest rose that ever bloomed!”

He felt the pound of her heart against his breast, and her eyes mirrored a happiness that caused him to realise that he was going too far--drifting into troubled waters that threatened destruction. The girl's soul had risen to her eyes and looked out as though he were a G.o.d.

As if Bootea sensed the same impending evil she pushed Barlow from her and sank back to the cus.h.i.+on, her face shedding its radiancy.

Cursing himself for the impetuous outburst Barlow slumped into the chair.

”Gulab,” he said presently, ”my government gives reward for loyalty and service.”

”Bootea has had full reward,” the girl answered.

He continued: ”We had talk on the road about the Pindaris; what did they who whisper in the dark say?”

”That the chief, Amir Khan, has gathered an army, and they fear that because of an English bribe he will attack the Mahrattas; so the Dewan has brought men from Karowlee to go into the camp of the Pindaris in disguise and slay the chief for a reward.”

This information coming from Bootea was astounding. Neither Resident Hodson nor Captain Barlow had suspected that there had been a leak.

”And was there talk of this message from the British to--?” Barlow checked.

”To the Sahib?” Bootea asked. ”Not of the message; but it was whispered that one would go to the Pindari camp to talk with Amir Khan, and perhaps it was the Sahib they meant. And perhaps they knew he waited for orders from the government.”

Then suddenly it flashed upon Barlow that because of this he had been marked. The foul riding in the game of polo that so nearly put him out of commission--it had been deliberately foul, he knew that, but he had attributed it to a personal anger on the part of the Mahratta officer, bred of rivalry in the game and the fanatical hate of an individual Hindu for an Englishman.

”Now that a message has come will the Sahib go to the Pindari camp?”

Bootea persisted.

”Why do you ask, Gulab?”

”Not in the way of treachery, but because the Sahib is now like a G.o.d; and because I may again be of service, for those who will slay Amir Khan will also slay the Sahib.”