A Galahad Of The Creeks; The Widow Lamport Part 6

"How are you, Mrs. Smalley? Very sorry to interrupt your tea party, but this is pressing business.--Good afternoon, doctor.--Look here, Jackson, they've looted the treasury at Yeo. Here is Serferez Ali, my inspector, who will tell you all about it--and great news, too, with the bad. I think we have that scoundrel Bah Hmoay redhanded at last. I heard you were here, and stopped on my way to tell you. I have, of course, made an official report; you will find that the garrison was weakened on the strength of a forged order from me--the order is with my report."

Jackson was struck dumb for a moment by the enormity of the disaster; he found voice, however, to ask if the whole of the money had been stolen, and if Bah Hmoay had been arrested.

"The money's all gone," said Hawkshawe, "and Bah Hmoay isn't arrested, but he will be, I hope, in twenty-four hours. In the meantime I've placed a watch on the paG.o.da, and now there is not a moment to lose.

Stay"--he bent and whispered a few words in Jackson's ear, and then with a hasty good-bye turned and went off. When Hawkshawe had gone Jackson turned to the inspector and asked him to briefly detail what had happened. Dr. Smalley's knowledge of the language was of great help at this moment, and Serferez Ali, presenting the hilt of his sword for Jackson to touch, began:

"I beg to represent that I was placed in charge of the money at the sub-treasury at Yeo with a guard of twenty men. Night and day the proper watch was kept. I have served the Sirkar for thirty years, and was I going to neglect this? On the night before last Moung Sen, the letter carrier, brought me a letter from Hawkshawe Sahib. That letter has been sent to you with the Sahib's report. It was a forgery, as Hawkshawe Sahib's letter will show; but I am a man little skilled in writing, and I obeyed. Ten of our men were ordered back next morning to Pazobin, as a disturbance was expected there, according to the letter. In the morning I sent back the ten men and told the engineer Babu what had happened, and said that until the guard came back payments should not be made, as there were not enough men to attend to these duties. The Babu sat down to write to you about it, and I determined with the few men I had to double my precautions. There was a bright moon that night, and during the day I had the trees near the treasury gate cut down, so that men might not steal upon us unawares.

At eleven that night, after going my rounds, I sat down to my meal with Hashim Khan, a fellow-countryman of mine from the Punjab. As we sat down before the fire a shot was fired, and Hashim fell forward on his face a dead man. Then I heard the sentries coming back, and I knew the dacoits had attacked the treasury. There were nine men besides myself, and we answered the fire of the dacoits; but presently the woodwork of the building blazed up, and we, being choked with the smoke, had to come forth, having Beni Sing and Jowahir dead, and another, a man from Amritsur, was burned in the flames. Then we seven who were left formed in a ring, and the dacoits closed in upon us.

With mine own eyes I saw Bah Hmoay, the priest, leading them on, and struck at him twice, but G.o.d preserves him to die at the end of a halter, and Moung Sen was there too, leading the robbers on. I will swear that I saw them, for the light of the burning building was as day. And we fought until all died, one by one, except myself, and I too had died but that fate preserves me to see Bah Hmoay pa.s.s to h.e.l.l, and, making a dash into the darkness, I escaped. I travelled all the rest of the night and all day, only meeting Hawkshawe Sahib an hour ago----"

He swayed gently backward as he said this, and Smalley caught him as he was falling. "He is wounded, I fear, and must be seen to at once."

CHAPTER IX.

HIS LADY'S GAGE.

Belle Mabel gathered a blood-red rose, To give to her own true knight.

_The Ballade of the Rose_.

There was a price on Bah Hmoay's head, and if Moung Sen had come within the pale of the law it would have gone hard with him. Their stronghold in Pazobin was now a thing, of the past, for the paG.o.da was watched night and day, and every little township and village was placarded with a minute description of the robber priest and his lieutenant. When Hawkshawe dashed out in pursuit, after the first news of the robbery, he meant death to Father Fragrance. He was well aware of the truth of the proverb that dead men tell no tales, and a.s.suredly Bah Hmoay would have found Nirvana if Hawkshawe had met him. The policeman made a forced march all that night, and in the early gray of the morning was at Yeo. He scoured the country for miles, and one by one the dacoits fell into his hands. And when, three weeks later, he was recalled to headquarters by an urgent letter from Jackson, there were but two left of the Knights of the Silk Cotton Tree--two of the ten who had taken the water of the oath--namely, the reverend priest and the Red Diamond. It is true that there were a number of others who had joined in the a.s.sault on the sub-treasury, and who, if caught, would have paid for their crime with their lives; but these ten formed the regular gang, and now eight of them were taken alive and two were hunted men. Old Serferez Ali recovered from his wound, which was after all but slight, took Hawkshawe's place on the track, and vowed by the prophet's head that Hashim's death should be revenged tenfold, for was not Hashim of Gugar Khan his father's nephew's cousin on the sister's side? Moreover, he was a friend, and it was not the law that would avenge his death, but Serferez Ali himself, who had learned many ways of doing this. Serferez swore that they should not hang until he had satisfied himself; the law could then work its will on what remained of them, and the grim old man, hollow-eyed and gaunt, was relentless in his pursuit. Information came to him somehow, and it was only the impa.s.sable jungles that saved the criminals from his vengeance.

Hawkshawe was puzzled and annoyed at Jackson's letter recalling him to headquarters. He had been working splendidly when this sudden stoppage came. It will be remembered, however, that it was no ordinary interest that spurred him on. The priest knew too much, and Hawkshawe's one hope was to seal his lips forever, for now that he was hunted in this way there was no knowing to what the dacoit might turn and cling for safety, and it was in his power to do incalculable harm to, if not to ruin, Hawkshawe. And therefore it was galling to think that, after all, his prey had escaped him. As he rode back he pulled out and read the official letter he had received and thrust angrily into his breast pocket. There was nothing in it but an urgent request to come back at once. "Confound him!" said Hawkshawe, "he might have written a line to tell me what it was about." And it was with rage in his heart that he rode into his house and, flinging the reins to his groom, went upstairs. A big envelope marked "Urgent" was on the table, and Ma Mie was there, with a troubled look on her face. As he came in she could contain herself no longer, and with a cry flung herself on his breast and called out:

"They have found out! they have found out! Fly, Hawkshawe!"

"What the devil does this all mean?" said Hawkshawe angrily, and yet with a sickening foreboding in his heart. He s.n.a.t.c.hed up the great brown envelope and read with whitening lips. It was, in brief, an order from government suspending him pending certain inquiries that were to be made, and adding as a rider that he was not to leave Pazobin until the final orders of the governor had been communicated to him. He did not notice a small note that dropped out from the official inclosure, but Ma Mie stooped and, picking it up, handed it to him. It contained a few lines from Peregrine telling him to keep up heart; that he, Jackson, was sure the charges were trumped up and would fall to the ground. The letter closed with an earnest a.s.surance of sympathy and a brief intimation that his successor, Phipson, had already arrived, and was of necessity staying with Jackson, there being no other house available for him. The blow had fallen at last, and fallen just as Hawkshawe had almost completed his most brilliant departmental achievement. He guessed instinctively whose hands had struck it--the wretched half-caste Pozendine and his former enemy Iyer were leagued together in this. Perhaps they had no proofs, but that was, after all, a straw to clutch at. He knew he was guilty, and for the moment he was overcome. He sank back into a chair with an oath, and his hand slid of its own accord to the b.u.t.t of his revolver; but Ma Mie was quick.

"Not that way! not that way!" she cried as she clung to his wrist and wrenched the weapon away from his after all not unwilling hand.

But a still more terrible trial awaited Hawkshawe, and that was the formal delivering over of his office to Phipson. He was treated with the greatest consideration, but this sympathetic treatment only added to the agony, though it was difficult to say who felt it most, honest young Phipson, with his soft heart, or the proud and guilty man whose place he had taken. When it was all over, Hawkshawe went back to his house and shut himself up, going nowhere--not even to his garden gate--doing nothing, but morosely sitting in his long cane chair smoking and drinking.

"It is too cruel of them not to let the poor man go away," said Mrs.

Smalley; and Habakkuk thought that if he were to go and see him Hawkshawe might be cheered up a bit.

"There is no use, doctor," said Jackson. "I went myself, but could gain no admittance; perhaps it would be wiser to leave him alone. He will come out of this trial all right, I hope----"

"If ever he lives through it," said Phipson, and they all understood, though no one spoke another word.

Smalley now turned the conversation by speaking of a mission school he had founded at Dagon, which had flourished in so remarkable a manner that he almost thought it advisable to go and live there himself.

"And leave Pazobin?" said Jackson. "Why, we couldn't do without you, doctor."

Habakkuk was flattered at the compliment, and explained that after all it was only an idea that might never come to anything, and he and Phipson strolled off together to look at some plants, for Phipson was an amateur gardener and Smalley an enthusiast.

Ruys and Jackson were, alone. "You surely do not think that Dr.

Smalley will move to Dagon?" he asked.

"Why not?" was the reply. "If his work takes him there, and he feels a call, he must go--and of course I."

"I know," interrupted Jackson, "of course you will go also to aid and help him." Their eyes met, and his fell before the limpid light in hers.

"Of course," she said slowly, "there is no other thing for me to do, unless I were to stay here and look after what is left. There is much to do, you know. And now take me to the garden. I want to see what those two are looking at."

It was a wilderness of a garden for all Smalley's care, and one might easily have been lost in it. Side by side they walked down a pathway, and in the far distance they caught a glimpse of Phipson and his host poring over a row of flower pots. Jackson was about to keep straight on, when Mrs. Smalley deliberately turned into a bypath, and he followed her, admiring the perfect outline of her figure and the easy grace of her walk. "Isn't this an odd place?" she said, as on taking a turn they came upon what was evidently the ruin of an old temple. All that remained, however, was the plinth and a single griffin of monstrous size, that stood up above the shrubbery around it and glared down upon the intruders. "Fancy if such things really lived," and she dug the silver-mounted cane she carried into the plaster.

"They did, I think, in the old days," replied Jackson. "It must have been just such a monster who guarded Castle Dolorous and carried away the White Lady to keep her a close prisoner."

"And of course a youthful knight came and blew on a silver bugle, and then there was a fight."

"Yes, and the knight won, and the fair lady gave him a gage to wear, and perhaps----"

"Oh, never mind the perhaps--she gave him her gage, did she? What did she give?" and as Ruys said this she loosened with her hand a bunch of mignonette that was pinned to her dress.

"Oh, a ribbon or a kerchief, or maybe a flower, and the knight wore it as a charm against all evil, and a light to guide him on his quest."

"Yes," she said dreamily, "the good old days--I would we were now in them. I can not picture a knight in a tweed suit--can you? How would a gage look on that?" and with a sudden movement of her hand she placed the flowers against Peregrine's breast and held them there.

"Will you let it rest there?" His voice sounded strange and hollow to himself. Ruys bent forward and fastened the flowers in his coat slowly and deliberately, standing close to him as she did this, and a mad longing came over the man to clasp her to him, to ask her to put her white arms round his neck and say she loved him, to tell her she was loved with a love that could only end with his death. But he held out somehow, G.o.d alone knows how, and when Ruys had pinned the flowers over his heart she said softly:

"There, that is my gage; remember, it is to be an amulet to guide you to the right."

The sweet scent of the mignonette floated around him, there was a dreaming look in Ruys's face as she met his look, and now her eyes fell before him, and she half turned her face away to hide the pink flush that came into her cheek. There was a moment of breathless anxiety to the man when he felt that he must yield, but he righted himself with a mighty effort as he said:

"I will keep the gage forever, Mrs. Smalley, although I am afraid I am but an unworthy knight."

Neither spoke a word after that, but, as it were, instinctively turned to leave a place which was so dangerous to both. They walked back together until they once more reached the broad road, and then Ruys turned abruptly.

"I have got a headache, Mr. Jackson, and I think I will go in. Don't tell my husband; it is a mere trifle. See, there are Mr. Phipson and he talking; go and join them. I--I--want to be alone."

She turned and walked slowly down toward the house, and Jackson stood still, staring after her with an uncomfortable feeling that her last words suggested an understanding between them that did not exactly exist. He bent his head down till his lips touched the flowers she gave him, and then he went forward to meet his host and Phipson. In the meantime Ruys reached her room, and, having carefully shut the door, deliberately proceeded to have a good cry. It was a sheer case of nerves with her, and the nerves had given way. She had played with edged tools and now found that they could cut, and began to realize that she was almost if not quite in love with this impa.s.sive youth.

The woman was a curious mixture of good and bad. She laid herself out to do a wrong thing, and took a keen pleasure in so doing, then would come the reaction and bitter regret. She went down on her knees in an impulsive manner and prayed to G.o.d to forgive her sin, and she vowed then and there to dedicate her life to his service. Then she got up, washed off the traces of her tears, and came down to her husband. The mail had come in, and Habakkuk was seated reading his paper. "Have they gone?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Habakkuk, "left about twenty minutes ago."

She sat down on a rug near her husband's feet and rested her head on his knee. Habakkuk put down the paper he was reading and stroked the soft curls on her head with a gentle hand. She looked up after a while.

"Did you mean what you said about going to Dagon?"

"Why?"

"Because, if you did, I want you to go at once, and take me with you."

"Why, little woman, what is the matter?"

She got up impatiently. "Oh, you men--you men! Will you never understand?"