Caravans By Night Part 50

"Now you will accompany my servants to the guest chamber, which I trust you will find comfortable, although it is not quite up to the standard of those of your very modern country."

Trent turned. Two soldiers, each armed with ancient-looking jewelled pistols, were standing just within the doorway. He left the room between the guards.

2

To a room on the second story of the Governor's residence Trent was taken. An iron door shut with strident clangor behind him. He saw neither lock nor bolt as he entered, and, after waiting for several moments, he tried the door, a purely perfunctory act. To his surprise it swung back--and showed him, in the corridor-gloom, two mailed, armed soldiers. This was the first eye-proof of captivity.

Trent closed the door and delivered his attention to the room. It was large and of stone, and gory frescoes were painted upon the wall-panels.

There were two windows, each barred and offering a view of the city--a waste of terraced white, almost blinding in the sunlight, crowned by the monastery and its golden roofs. Trent peered out of one window, then the other. Both looked down upon a wide roadway. For a moment he gazed at the few monks and soldiers that came and went below, then moved to a bench fixed against the wall and sank heavily, with the uncertain air of a drunken man, upon the red cushions. There was the same suggestion of intoxication in his eyes, which were veined with red from loss of sleep.

He removed his mushroom-shaped hat and furrowed his black-dyed hair. His was the despair of a gambler who has plunged, who perceives defeat for himself in the first hand and after that plays without hope, with only the will to hope.

Like something remote and beyond reach, something dim as a dream, was the thought of Dana Charteris. His interview with Hsien Sgam drove out the mystery surrounding her abduction, but left an infinitude of apprehensions. The purpose that actuated the Mongol to such a move was not obscure. Yet if she were a hostage, he need not fear for her safety--for the present. Eight o'clock--much hinged on that. What would the Mongol demand?

A deeper tide of thoughts brought to focus interests other than personal. If Sarojini Nanjee succeeded in her venture, she would be waiting at the Great Magician's Gate at the appointed time. And if he was still a prisoner then? But, even if he succeeded in freeing himself, he could not go without Dana Charteris. Nor could he abandon Kerth....

Knotted cords, and apparently no loose ends with which to work. His only foil was the fact that he held the secret of Na-chung's whereabouts--a slim weapon with which to fight a more cunningly armed opponent.

Kerth. Where was Kerth now? In Lhakang-gompa? How could he get word to him? Bribe the soldiers? He dared not try; his message might fall into Hsien Sgam's hands and thus destroy Kerth's chances.... But he did not know where to reach Kerth--a difficulty he had entirely overlooked.

He rose, and his eyes wandered about the room. As a matter of course, he tried the bars of the windows. His efforts led only to a fuller realization of his plight. Taken without violence, in a room with an unlocked door, he was as securely confined as though he were chained and in a dungeon.

He returned to the bench to wait--wait for eight o'clock. As the minutes dragged by his nerves underwent a gradual disintegration. Anxiety, mental and physical weariness--they were the destroying forces. He walked the floor.... It was exquisite torture, this waiting; something inquisitional about it. He fled from it, in thoughts, to Dana Charteris, as a persecuted worshipper to the healing coolness and quiet of temple corridors....

Sunlight ceased to reflect its glare upon the whitewashed houses, and the gilded roofs of Lhakang-gompa floated in the gathering twilight like islands on a dusky sea. A rosy light spread above the city, above the towering lamasery, and deepened from pink to sullen red, like the flaming promise of an angry Stromboli. There was something sinisterly significant--a devil's symbol--in the sunset; thrice significant to Trent as he paced his prison and watched the crimson dye staining the city. For what seemed little more than a moment Shingtse-lunpo swam in the wine-light as in blood; then night touched sun-scorched walls with soothing hands and drew a veil of secrecy over the sprawling ma.s.s of houses.

As the luminous hands of Trent's watch approached eight o'clock he heard sounds outside his door--footsteps and m.u.f.fled tones. Figuratively, he gave himself into the hands of his kismet.

The door opened. Polished armor shone in the dimly lighted hall. A hand beckoned to him. Between armed soldiers he left the room and descended to the lower floor.

Hsien Sgam, in his robes of office, stood waiting in the scarlet chamber where he had received Trent that morning; and his greeting,--the quintessence of irony--his quiet, self-a.s.sured smile, made Trent falter in his diplomatic resolution to sheathe his antagonism.

One of the soldiers drew aside a scarlet curtain, revealing an arched doorway and, beyond, a long, dim hall. There a table was set. Tapers in a European candelabrum threw flickering light upon European silverware.

"You will observe," said Hsien Sgam, with a wave of his slender hand, "that I have been educated to your manner of eating. I generally relapse into barbarism, but this is an occasion--a celebration, as it were, in honor of the arrival of the first Englishman in Shingtse-lunpo."

Hsien Sgam sat across the table from Trent, and behind him--grim reminders of his power--stood two soldiers, one on either side of the scarlet-curtained archway. It was clear that the Mongol was not a gambler.... Three Tibetan women, their faces smeared with kutch, served.

There was little pretense at conversation, and the trying mockery of the meal was half over before Hsien Sgam broke the prolonged strain.

"Let us not be deceived," he began, "but understand each other at the very start; let us, as you would say, commence with clean slates." He smiled over a cup of tea--tea brewed in the English fashion, and not the sickening gruel that masquerades under that name in Tibet. "As you have probably guessed, I know you are not he who the very beautiful Sarojini Nanjee would have me believe you--one Tavernake, a jeweller--but Major Trent--er--Major Arnold Ralph Trent, R. A. M. C., I believe is the full t.i.tle, working in the interests of those who would commit the lamentable mistake of interfering with the affairs of others."

The Mongol continued to smile. "Furthermore, let it be understood that the fact that I know this does not in the least prejudice me against you. That one is blind is not his own fault. To enlighten you, to give you true sight--that is my purpose."

Trent met Hsien Sgam's gaze with unwavering eyes.

"At one time you were prejudiced," he suggested pointedly.

The smile seemed painted immortally upon the Mongol's bronze face. He nodded slightly.

"You refer, I presume, to the incident at Rangoon--when I came near committing a grave error? For the while I was deluded into believing it would be wiser for you not to continue to Shingtse-lunpo; I now see that I was wrong. I crave your forgiveness for that--er--almost indiscretion."

Once more the grim humor of the situation, the grotesquery of it, became apparent to Trent. This anomaly of a creature! Eternally the two elements of his being seemed warring--the Lucifer and the Buddha.

"Perhaps you will understand more clearly," said Hsien Sgam, "if I go back into the years--the years of the locust, your Christian Bible calls them.... You will forgive the fact that I am personal. It is necessary."

He spoke to one of the serving-women and she disappeared behind a curtain, to return a moment later with a silver tray. Trent almost laughed aloud; perhaps it was the tension.... Cigarettes!... He welcomed the smoke; it would clear his brain. Both he and the Mongol lighted their cheroots in a candle-flame. The latter's face seemed to swim in the blue clouds, his woman's-mouth twisted into that persistent, graven smile.

"I am an experiment," Hsien Sgam commenced. "Whether a success or a failure, I will let you judge. It is the custom in Mongolia to deliver one child from every family to the lamas for monastic training. I was chosen from a group of four brothers and destined from birth for holy orders. Very early--so early that I cannot quite remember it--I was given into the charge of the abbot of a monastery at Urga. I was a--I believe 'acolyte' is your word for it. When I was fourteen there was a celebration at Urga; it is called the Ts'am Haren. During the races I was injured; my pony fell on my limb. I was ill for many days. When I grew better they told me I would be lame, always.... That very night my mother had a vision: she saw me harnessed in golden mail and upon a white horse, leading a great army. I was on a mountain-top, she said, with legions about me, on the slopes and in the valleys; and at my feet was Asia. She saw a flame, with the face of Timur the Lame in it, descend into my body. Thus the soul of the great conqueror came to rest in the body of her second born."

The smile had faded from Hsien Sgam's face; there was in his eyes a glow that hid the devil-light. All the beauty of Buddha shone upon the bronze features.

"That was how I became a--what is the word?--messiah?" He went on: "A conference of the princes was held in the palace of the Hut'ukt'u, and it was proposed that I be sent to acquire the learning of the white lords. The Hut'ukt'u opposed it, for he was afraid that eventually I would have more power than he. But in the night I was taken away, by swiftest camel, and with the treasure of my house in goatskin bags. My mother accompanied me to Kalgan, then turned back--but my father went on to Peking. The Manchu woman was on the throne at the time. She had heard that a Mongol prince was being sent away to be educated in Western schools and return and establish an independent empire, and she, like the Hut'ukt'u, was afraid. She sent a.s.sa.s.sins. I escaped--but my father...."

He shrugged; smiled. The shining look went from his face; his beauty was again that of Lucifer, the fallen angel.

"So I went. I studied after the manner of Englishmen.... I wonder"--he leaned across the table toward Trent--"I wonder if you can understand my feelings there, a boy, in an alien land? Gray buildings and rushing trains and electricity--the roar of a modern Babylon--after yourts and camels and candlelight! There where men denounce polygamy and encourage prost.i.tution!

"It was a slow death to me, a numbness that commenced in my limbs and rose up--up--until it touched the very source of my thinking. Your Civilization with its civilized vices plucked something vital, something unexplainable, from me.... But I stayed; I learned; and when I had finished, I returned. But not as he who had left--who had wept when his father fell under the blade of a Manchu a.s.sa.s.sin. I had gone as the dreamer; I came back as the awakened sleeper, incensed toward those who had replaced visions with sordid reality.... That was in the year that Christian calendars call nineteen hundred and four--the year Tubdan Gyatso, the Dalai Lama, forsook Lha.s.sa."

Their cheroots had burned out. The scent of stale tobacco hung in the air like an unclean aura. To Trent it seemed the essence of Hsien Sgam's story--his tragedy.

"The Dalai Lama came to Urga," Hsien Sgam continued. "The Hut'ukt'u was jealous of him and he made his stay as unpleasant as possible. But before the Dalai Lama left, I spent many hours with him. Our cause was progressing slowly when the revolution against the Manchus came; then Yuan Shih-kai, and the restoration of Tubdan Gyatso. But the Church had lost much power. A conference was called at Lha.s.sa and it was decided that a new Head be formed--an invisible Head, unknown to the English and other aggressors. Shingtse-lunpo was chosen. It became the Head of the Church--a sort of Vatican. It was the will of Gaudama Siddartha that a certain Grand Lama's body should be the vessel for his spirit. Thus came the t.i.tle of Sakya-muni to His Holiness Lobsang Yshe Naktsang, the Supreme Lama of the Gelugpa. It was also deemed advisable by the Council of Lamas that I should go to the new monastery of the Head and be invested with the power of Governor of the city. I was to be a--er--connecting link between Tibet and Mongolia.

"Dorjieff, the Buriat monk, had promised us the aid of Russia.

Frequently, before the invasion of Lha.s.sa, he acted as an intermediary between the Czar and the Dalai Lama, and on one occasion the Russian emperor sent Tubdan Gyatso the vestments of a--how is it called?--a bishop?--of the Russian church. But the Russian monarch fell in the war, and hope of Russian aid dwindled. China was strangling Mongolia; Tibet had a.s.serted her rights. Then came the Kiachta Convention. We thought we had won. But the Hut'ukt'u is a coward. With s.e.m.e.nov on one side, threatening, and j.a.pan on the other (it developed later that both were the same), he became frightened.... You know what happened."

Hsien Sgam pa.s.sed cigarettes to Trent, who refused; selected one himself; lighted it.

"It appeared that we were facing defeat," he resumed. "We had no money--perhaps a little in the treasuries, but not enough to propagate our plans. It seemed imminent that j.a.pan would build the Kalgan-Kiachta railway, and such a thing would mean the end of the dream of a Mongol empire.... Ah, these railways! Keys to power! French--er--capital is behind the Chinese-Eastern Railway. Also the Yunnan Railways. The South Manchurian and the Shantung railways are j.a.panese-controlled. Chinese sovereignty in the districts where there are foreign-owned railways is a mere word.

"Thus it would be in Mongolia, if the Kalgan-Kiachta railway were built by j.a.panese money. But how could it be stopped? Mongolia herself had no money. The only way was, as I once told you, through revolution.

Establish Mongolian control and refuse a concession to any power to construct the rail line. And that way, too, was obstructed by lack of--er--funds.... Then the G.o.ds sent an answer to our prayers in the form of a foreigner--a man whom you know by the name of Andre Chavigny."

The muscles of Trent's jaw moved perceptibly at this announcement; otherwise, he sat motionless, hands grasping the edge of the table, eyes upon Hsien Sgam.

"There was a very great disturbance in Lhakang-gompa," the Mongol pressed on, "when it was reported one day that a white man had been discovered--er--masquerading in the city. His Holiness charged me to interview the prisoner and ascertain how much he had learned. This I did, and you may imagine my amazement upon discovering that this white man was the Andre Chavigny of whom I had heard in Europe.

"His true purpose in Shingtse-lunpo I have never learned from his lips, but I am of the opinion that he might have been deluded by fantastic tales of jewels and wealth in the vaults of Lhakang-gompa. He knew he had seen too much to be allowed to leave; that is why he made me a most amazing--er--proposition. I believe I can recall the very words he uttered. He said: 'I have heard of your plans for a revolt against China. Give me my life and I will finance you.'"

Hsien Sgam laughed--a low, soft sound.

"Conceive the situation, major: this adventuring Frenchman, with only a few _tengas_, offering to finance the revolution! It was--do you say, _droll_? But I listened to him. In this very room we talked, and he sat where you are sitting now. He has a tongue as of satin. He talked for his life that night, and what he told me amazed me. I did not believe it could be done at first. I told him so, and sent him to the guest chamber which you occupied, while I thought and thought.... I went out on the city-walls. I looked toward Mongolia--Mongolia dying--and I realized that this Andre Chavigny should live."

The serving-women had disappeared; Trent and the Mongol were alone but for the two mailed sentinels at the doorway.

"It is not difficult for you to imagine what Andre Chavigny told me,"

said Hsien Sgam. "Before venturing into Tibet he had been in India--had visited the cities of Baroda, Indore, Gwalior.... He had seen jewels worth many millions of English pounds. He had seen and planned--only planned. Of those gems he told me--of his plan, too. He had observed, he said, the monks of Shingtse-lunpo cutting coral and turquoise ornaments; therefore, why could not they, under the proper direction, re-cut and re-set diamonds and emeralds and rubies? He knew of a market--_sub rosa_ is the expression he used. And for a certain--er--percentage--he offered to finance the revolution.