Caravans By Night Part 13

GREETINGS!

I, the Swaying Cobra, welcome you to the Sacred City and beg the honor of a visit from you to-night. If you will be at the shop of Abdul Kerim, in the Sadar Bazaar, at eight-thirty o'clock, my trusted servant, Chandra Lal, will meet you and conduct you to my humble dwelling.

Your faithful servant,

THE SWAYING COBRA

When he had read it, he handed it to Kerth, who let his eyes run down the page and smiled.

"Suppose we move to the dining-hall?" the latter suggested. "I'll finish what I have to say there."

Trent a.s.sented, and they rose and left the veranda.

As the purple-tongued shadows lapped them up, the last of the row of doors opened, and the girl with the bronze hair came out and moved after them toward the dining-hall.

2

"In other words," said Kerth, as a soft-shod "boy" arrayed the meal before them, "you are to deliver yourself blindfolded into the hands of this Swaying Cobra, and if she says go to the moon, then, according to the Old Man, you're to go there, without questioning."

Trent listened, apparently abstractedly, for he was studying the amazingly clear profile of the girl at the next table. Punkahs, worked by electricity, disturbed straying tendrils of reddish-gold hair.

"The woman mystifies me as much as the affair itself," Kerth went on.

"Who is she? It's evident the Old Man trusts her--to a degree. From her name, 'Swaying Cobra,' I'd judge she's a nautch, yet, on the other hand, I'm inclined to think she's above that. Fact is, the Old Man was too infernally secretive about her; seemed afraid he'd tell me something.

However, he isn't absolutely sure of her. If he was, I wouldn't be here."

A tourist, was Trent's conclusion. (For he was still studying the girl.) She choked over the greasy, peppery curry concoction. A moment later her soft voice floated to him as she spoke to her "boy."

"Confound him! Is he listening to me?" Kerth wondered. Then aloud, "My part is this: I'm to rig myself up as a native--a Rajput--and accompany you as your servant. My name will be Rawul Din."

Trent's eyes turned sharply from the girl to Kerth. He noticed, incidentally, that the latter's hair would need no lamp-black to make it like a native's.

"Suppose she objects?"

Kerth smiled--an expression that was almost sinister because of his dark, satanic features.

"That's the point: she _must not_ object!" After a pause he resumed: "The Old Man wanted that firmly impressed. In some way or other she must be forced to agree to that condition. You're the diplomat of this expedition; that means it's up to you. So said the Old Man. I'm to be the connecting link between you and the Department."

"Is that keeping faith with her?"

"According to the letter of the contract, yes; morally, no. As I understand it, she demanded your word of honor you wouldn't 'communicate' any information. Therefore, you must not; what I don't hear and learn for myself is the Department's loss. Neat way of beating the devil around the bush, isn't it?"

It was not visible upon Trent's face whether or not he agreed with Kerth. However, his next question hinted negatively.

"If she discovers you're not Rawul Din, the Rajput, what then?"

Kerth shrugged. "_Adrushtam!_" he said, which means, "It is Fate!" Then he lighted a cheroot and leaned upon his elbows, a queer smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. "It means this, major," he continued. "If she's loyal, as the Old Man believes, she will either be very angry and throw over the whole business, or overlook it and simply demand that espionage be discontinued. But"--his face, veiled by smoke, looked more satanic than ever--"if she isn't loyal, then--well, we'll both probably...." He finished with a lift of his eyebrows.

Trent watched the bronze-haired girl as she left the dining-hall--as did others, for she was a type to draw eyes.

"To-night's the test," Kerth observed aloud. "If you succeed in forcing your point, good. Otherwise, I return to Delhi." He looked at his watch.

"It's close to seven now, and my metamorphosis will require some time.

Shall we adjourn?"

They did.

3

Before Trent left his room he placed the oval of coral in his handbag; then he went out on the portico to smoke and watch the stars gather about the cleaving silhouette of a church steeple across from the hotel grounds.

At one end of the veranda two shadowy forms were conversing; a woman's voice drifted to him, a soft voice that slurred and caressed the words it spoke. It was vaguely familiar, and in a detached manner he identified it with the girl of the dining-hall.

The phosph.o.r.escent hands of his wrist-watch crept to five minutes to eight before Euan Kerth put in his appearance. A heavy footstep announced a turbaned man. He halted in the light cast from a window; executed a salaam. He wore white breeches, an alpaca coat and a white shawl. A huge turban shadowed a brown face and a carefully waxed mustache. Had it not been for that and the slim hands, Trent would not have recognized him.

"_Salaam, Huzoor!_" was his greeting. "Is the _Huzoor_ ready?"--this in the manner of a native trying to affect an Oxford accent.

Trent nodded and rose, and Kerth fell in behind.

"There's no need to take a gharry," said Kerth. "The Sadar Bazaar isn't far."

Their walk led them past the dusty red brick barracks that Trent had seen that afternoon, and within a short while they reached the Sadar Bazaar, where, after many inquiries, they were directed to the shop of Abdul Kerim--a dingy little hole in a narrow lane. A native was lounging in the doorway, but at their approach he straightened up and salaamed.

"Major Trent Sahib?" he queried respectfully, with a grin that displayed betel-stained teeth. "I am Chandra Lal." Then he looked inquisitively at Kerth. "Who is this, Sahib?"

"My servant."

Chandra Lal shook his head. "I was instructed to bring only Major Trent Sahib."

"But it is my wish that my bearer accompany me."

The native shifted uncomfortably. "The sahib's wish is law; yet if I do other than I have been bidden I will be a disobedient servant." Another glimpse of scarlet teeth; a rather nervous smile. "So what shall I do, Sahib?"

"My man shall go--_maloom hai_!"--sternly. "I will be responsible to your mistress."

Chandra Lal saluted. "_Achcha_, Sahib! I have a carriage in the street!"

At the mouth of the lane a landau was waiting, and when Trent and Kerth were seated on cushioned springs, Chandra Lal flicked his whip.

Out of the Cantonment they were whirled, and eastward into the old city, where constricted streets refused pa.s.sage to any vehicle. They drew up by an oval-shaped, tree-grown expanse, and the landau was left in charge of a man who was waiting for that particular purpose. Then began a journey on foot that was memorable to the two Englishmen because of the muddle of dim, narrow highways into which it took them. Chandra Lal leading, they percolated through streets and pa.s.sages that stank of every unpleasantness known to Indian cities; mere clefts where the stars swam at distances immeasurable; stairs, tunneled lanes and alleys, and amidst ramshackle, tumbled buildings and temples and shrines.

Trent's sense of direction was completely baffled when they came at length to a quarter where the houses were more pretentious--a long street of several-storied dwellings, of projecting eaves, of white walls and of latticed windows that hinted at the lurking mystery of zenana and harem.

Into one of these houses the native guided them, up a short flight of stairs and into a dark room. The air was fresh and cool, fanned by invisible punkahs. A snap brought on electric lights, and Trent blinked about him; blinked and suppressed a smile, for he realized the entrance into the room while it was yet unlighted was done for purely dramatic effect.

His eyes, roving around the chamber, missed not a detail; a chamber wholly amazing and incredible to the Westerner, who rarely, if ever, sees into the houses of the wealthy, high caste Hindus. Trent, however, (to whom India was an open book, as much as it ever will be to any white man) was only mildly surprised. The chandeliers were crystal, tinted amber by the yellow lights. Bra.s.sware and gold brocade (the latter hung to hide all doors except the one by which they had entered) introduced an effect of rich browns and richer golds; and a spire of incense uncoiled from a brazen bowl to be dispelled by punkahs and leave the heavy fragrance of musk swimming in the air.

"My mistress will join you presently," announced Chandra Lal. "Be seated, Sahib, and you will be served with refreshments!"