Part 15 (2/2)
”Ah, Captain, glad you've come,” Hodson said, rising and extending a hand across a flat-topped desk. ”I'm--I'm--well--pull a chair. This is one Ajeet Singh,” and he drooped slightly his thin, lean, bald head toward the Bagree Chief, who stood stiff and erect, one arm in a sling.
At this, Ajeet, knowing it for an informal introduction, put his hand to his forehead, and said, ”Salaam, Sahib.”
”_Tulwar_ play, sir, and an appeal for protection to the British, eh?”
and Barlow indicated the arm in the sling.
Still speaking in English Hodson said: ”As to that,--” he pursed his thin lips,--”something dreadful has happened; this man has been mixed up in a decoity and has come for protection; he wants to turn Approver.”
”The usual thing; when these cut-throats are likely to be caught they turn Judas; to save their own necks they offer a sacrifice of their comrades.”
”Yes,” the Resident affirmed, ”but I'm glad he came. Perhaps we had better just sit tight and let him go on--he's only nicely started.
I've practically promised him that if what he confesses is of service to His Excellency's government I will give him our conditional pardon, and use what influence I have with the Peshwa. But I fancy that old Baji Rao is mixed up in it himself.”
He turned to the decoit: ”Commence again, and tell the truth; and if I believe, you may be given protection from the British; but as to Sindhia I have no power to protect his criminals.”
The decoit cleared his throat and began: ”I, Ajeet Singh, hold allegiance to the Raja of Karowlee, and am Chief of the Bagrees, who are decoits.”
The Resident held up his hand: ”Have patience.” He rose, and took from a little cabinet a small alabaster figure of _Kali_ which he placed upon the table, saying in English to Barlow, ”When these decoits confess to be made Approvers, half of the confession is lies, for to swear them on our Bible is as little use as playing a tin whistle. If he's a Bagree this is his G.o.ddess.”
In Hindi he said: ”Ajeet Singh, if you are a Bagree decoit you are in the protection of Bhowanee, and you make oath to her.”
”Yes, Sahib.”
”This is Bhowanee,--that is your name for Kali,--and with obeisance to her make oath that you will tell the truth.”
”Yes, Sahib, it is the proper way.”
”Proceed.”
The jamadar with the fingers of his two hands clasped to his forehead in obeisance, declared: ”If I, Ajeet Singh, tell that which is not true, Mother _Kali_, may thy wrath fall upon me and my family.”
Then Hodson s.h.i.+fted the black G.o.ddess and let it remain upon a corner of his table, surmising that the sight of it would help.
”Speak, now,” the Resident commanded; and the Jamadar proceeded.
”Dewan Sewlal sent to Raja Karowlee for men for a mission, and whether it was in the letter he sent that _thugs_ should come I know not, but in our party were thugs, and that led to why I am here.”
”What is the difference, Ajeet,” Hodson asked sharply. ”You are a decoit who robs and kills, and thugs kill and rob; you are both disciples of this murderous creature, Kali.”
”We who are decoits, while we make offerings to Kali, are not thugs.
They have a chief mission of murder, while we have but desire to gain for our families from the rich. The thugs came in this wise, sahib.
Bhowanee created them from the sweat of her arms, and gave to them her tooth for a pick-axe, which is their emblem, a rib for a knife, and the hem of her garment for a noose to strangle. The hem of her sacred garment was yellow-and-white, and the _roomal_ that they strangle with is yellow-and-white. They are thugs, Sahib, and we are decoits.”
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