Captain Desmond, V.C. Part 64

And, out in the road, Evelyn's jhampanis were experiencing fresh proof of the indubitable madness of Memsahibs.

No sooner were their faces set cheerfully homeward, than they were brought up short by an order to turn and carry her in the opposite direction. No destination was specified; and the road indicated led out towards the hills. Hookahs and chupatties tugging at their heart-strings, roused them to mild rebellion. The mate, as established spokesman, murmured of _khana_[32] and the lateness of the hour; adding that the road behind them led away from the Sahibs' bungalows to the boundary of the station.

[32] Food.

But Evelyn, whose Hindustani was still a negligible quant.i.ty, made no attempt to follow the man's remarks. She reiterated her wish, adding irritably, "Make no foolish talk. It is an order!"

Those magic words, _Hukm hai_, are the insignia of authority through the length and breadth of India; and consoling one another with the reflection that if the Memsahib had small understanding, the Sahib was great, they jogged obediently along the lonely road toward the hills.

Evelyn's order had been given on the impulse of a moment. The idea of confronting her husband again in less than ten minutes had overpowered her suddenly and completely. She had only one thought--to gain-time; to screw up her courage for the ordeal; and to realise a little what she intended to say. It is only the strong who dare to trust that the right words will be given them.

Her interview with Kresney had unnerved her; and a lurking doubt quenched the spark of hope at her heart. Would Theo accept her tardy obedience without asking unanswerable questions. Or would he simply put her aside, with his inexorable quietness, that was far more terrible than any spoken word?

In all the pain and bewilderment of their short interview, nothing had so smitten her as his recoil--first and last--from the touch of her hands. The bare possibility that he might treat her so again made return seem out of the question. And her unhappiness struck deeper than the fear of the moment. For the first time she realised her own instability of feeling and purpose; and with the realisation came a new paralysing fear of the future--of herself.

For the first time it dawned upon her that she was unworthy of the love and faith that had been given her in such generous measure;--which was proof conclusive, though she did not guess it, that Honor Meredith had not laboured in vain. To know oneself unworthy is to have achieved the first step upward. A year ago she would have been incapable of such knowledge; and now that it had come to her she was afraid.

Sudden cessation of movement roused her; and the mate, turning his head, spoke with respectful urgency.

"Protector of the Poor, it is not well to go farther. Behold the swift going of the sun. Before your servants can reach the bungalow there will be no more light, and it is against orders----The Sahib will make angry talk."

Evelyn did not follow the whole of this appeal; but the man's anxiety was evident. She caught the words "Sahib" and "angry" with an inward shudder; she had endured enough of the Sahib's anger for one day, and her own common-sense told her that she had behaved foolishly.

Even outlying bungalows were no longer in sight. A boundary pillar gleamed ghostlike a few hundred yards ahead. The last rim of the sun had already slipped behind the hills. Their harsh peaks black against a sky of faint amber, had a threatening look; and darkness was racing up out of the east. The mate was right. It would be upon them almost before they could reach the bungalow; and to be out after sunset was strictly against the rules of the station.

Sudden terror clutched her; a nameless dread of the country--of the natives--which she had never been able to shake off; a paralysing sense that she was alone in their midst--alone on the verge of night.

Fear unsteadied her voice as she answered the man. "Turn, turn at once, and go quickly,--run; the Sahib will give _jacksheesh_--run!"

But before they could obey, a white figure sprang up from behind a cl.u.s.ter of rocks. Quick as thought followed a flash, a report, a heart-piercing scream; and the men, with a cry of "Ghazi! Ghazi!"

unceremoniously set down their mistress and fled.

The fanatic fled also, certain of a pa.s.sport into Paradise; and as Evelyn Desmond fell back among her cushions, a shadow, that had not been there before, crept slowly across the shoulder of her muslin dress. The oncoming darkness mattered nothing to her now; and she herself, a mere atom of life, blown out like a candle, mattered less than nothing to the desert and the imperturbable hills.

But justice does not invariably tarry. The arm of the Lord is not shortened, though in these days of omniscience man has a larger faith in his own; and the Ghazi, heading post-haste through the dusk plunged unwittingly into a group of villagers and cattle returning home.

A short scuffle ensued, shouts and the tramping of feet--sounds which brought the flying jhampanis back in a twinkling, surcharged with voluble valour and explanations. Resistance was useless. Moreover, to the fanatic, death is the one great gift. With stoical indifference the man found himself overpowered and disarmed. Zealous villagers, unrolling turbans and k.u.mmerbunds, made fast his arms, bound him securely about the waist and neck, and in this ignominious fashion led him back to where Evelyn Desmond lay untroubled and alone.

The jhampanis shouldered their burden once more; and fell to discussing, in lively detail, the hanging and subsequent burning that awaited the Taker of Life, who walked unconcernedly in their midst.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

C'eTAIT MA VIE.

"C'etait toute pet.i.te, ma vie: Mais c'etait ma vie."

--ANATOLE FRANCE.

"Honor, come out! I want you."

Desmond's voice, followed by a peremptory rap on the door, startled the girl back to a realisation of the flight of time. The sun had set, and a grey light filled the room. Without a pa.s.sing thought of the tears upon her face, she lowered the bolt and confronted Evelyn's husband.

"Ladybird isn't back yet," he said quickly. "It'll be dark in ten minutes. I _must_ know where she went to, and go after her myself."

Honor bit her lip. To tell him at such a moment would be madness; yet he was in an ill mood to oppose.

"Can't you send the orderly?" she asked, with something less than her wonted a.s.surance.

"No. I am going myself. This is no time to fuss over trifles.

Something may have gone wrong----"

"Hush,--listen! What's that?"

The shuffling and grunting of jhampanis, and the thud of the lowered dandy, were distinctly audible in the stillness.

"There she is!" Desmond said eagerly; and a moment later the blood in his veins was chilled by a long-drawn wail from the verandah.

"Hai--hai--_mere Memsahib murgya!_"[33]

[33] My mistress is dead.

Before the cry had spent itself he was through the "chick," down the verandah steps at a bound, and bending over his unconscious wife. Her head had dropped down to one shoulder, and on the other ominous stains showed darkly in the half light.

"Great G.o.d--_murder!_" Desmond muttered between his teeth. "What devil's work is this?" he added, turning upon the cowering jhampanis.

"Ghazi, Sahib; Ghazi," they told him in eager chorus, with a childish mingling of excitement and terror; and would fain have enlarged upon their own valour in pursuing the Taker of Life, but that Desmond's curt "_chupraho_"[34] checked them in mid-career.

[34] Be quiet.

"Stay where you are, Honor," he added to the girl, who had followed him, and now stood at the head of the steps. "I am bringing her in."

"Is she--alive?"

"G.o.d knows. Look sharp and get some brandy."

He took up one limp hand and laid his fingers on her wrist. A faint flutter of life rewarded him.

"Thank Heaven!" he murmured; and lifted her tenderly in his arms. But at the foot of the steps he paused.

"Na.s.sur Ali--the Doctor Sahib. Ride like the wind!" Then turning again to the jhampanis, big with harrowing detail, added: "The devil who did this thing, hath he escaped?"

"_Nahin_, _nahin_,[35] Sahib. Would your Honour's servants permit? The jackal sp.a.w.n is even now in the hands of the police. May his soul burn in h.e.l.l----"

[35] No, no.