One Maid's Mischief Part 65

"You have had something brought in," said the doctor, hastily. "Where is it?"

"Down by the landing-stage. Perowne has got up from his bed to come and see, and Stuart, Murad, and others are down there inspecting them."

The doctor accompanied the Resident to the landing-stage, where, in the midst of a little group, lay some wet and torn rags and a sodden hat, muddied and out of shape; while, squatting hard by the foul garments, were a couple of Malay fishermen, who had found the sc.r.a.ps and other articles amongst the mangrove-roots miles away.

Dr Bolter threw off his coat and rolled up his sleeves to go down on one knee by the muddy bank, while with contracted eyes and puckered brow the young Rajah looked on.

"What do you make of them, doctor?" said the Resident, hoa.r.s.ely.

"Lady's silk dress that has not been taken off, but dragged from its hooks, and ripped and torn away. It seems to have been rolled over and over in the tide till it became fastened on to some snag."

A shudder ran through the little party, and the doctor continued his examination.

"Hat," he said, turning it over. "Dreadfully battered and soaked; but it is Chumbley's, I think."

"What is that?" said Mr Harley, in a low voice.

"Coat," said the doctor. "Gentleman's; and this is a small white tie."

"Here is a handkerchief," said old Stuart, picking up what looked to be a mere wisp.

This the doctor took and rinsed in the clear river, starting back on the instant, and only just in time for, attracted by the motion of the white handkerchief in the water, a small crocodile of some six feet long partially threw itself out of the stream; but falling short of its prey, the reptile shuffled back and was gone.

No one spoke; but the presence of these creatures in such abundance, combined with their daring, whispered plainly enough to the party a.s.sembled what must be the fate of one who was thrown out into the stream.

The doctor took a step or two back, and then, as coolly as if nothing had occurred, he shook out the folds of the handkerchief--one of a very delicate texture and edged with lace, while in one corner were the two letters, "H.P.," embroidered by a woman's hand.

There was a deep groan here, and as the gentlemen turned, it was to see that Murad was resting his face upon a bamboo fence, his hands to his brow, and, turned from them as he was, the lookers-on could see that his breast was heaving, and that the young man was suffering great agony of mind.

"Collect all these together," said the doctor in a whisper; and one of the soldiers proceeded to obey his orders, when the young Malay leaped upon him fiercely, and tore the handkerchief from his grasp, thrust it into his bosom, and strode away.

The Resident did not move, but stood gazing after the Sultan, his brows contracted, and a peculiar look of dislike gathering in his eyes; but he did not speak, and without a word the various relics were gathered into a basket and carried across to the Residency island, where Dr Bolter announced that he would make a further and more searching examination.

Then the party separated, save that the doctor and Neil Harley had a long conversation together, in which the latter related how thoroughly the river banks had now been searched by the boats enlisted to carry the soldiers, who were most energetically aided by the people belonging to Rajah Murad and the Inche Maida, both of whom continued to almost live at the station, only going away for a few hours at a time to see to their own affairs, journeys from which they came back, with the rowers of the small boats they used looking terribly distressed.

"You can trust me, Harley," said the doctor. "I will not chatter, even to my wife, though she is to be trusted, too. How do you feel about the matter now?"

"Feel!" said Neil Harley, quietly. "I feel that little Miss Stuart was right in what she said to me."

"And what was that?"

"That this is a contest between the wits of the Eastern and the European; that we are being deceived; and that Sultan Murad is playing a part."

"What, after the miserable relics we have just seen?"

"After the miserable relics we have just seen. He has slaves who would die in his service, and who would consider it a merit to deceive the heathen English."

"Then he is playing his part marvellously well," said the doctor.

"Magnificently; and if Miss Stuart is right, as I believe she is, for the simple reason that her ideas accord with mine, he is a born actor.

That show of grief, and that seizure of the pocket-handkerchief were admirably done."

"If you believe all this, then," said the doctor, "why not boldly charge him with the crime!"

"To create a little war, with no better reason than my suspicions? A charge made in face of the most earnest work--while he is striving might and main to serve us."

"Apparently," said the doctor.

"Yes, apparently. But you see my position. Here are our two friendly natives both offended, but professing forgiveness, and working for us.

I cannot charge them on bare suspicion. I must have some proof."

"Then why not search land as well as river?"

"How?" said the Resident. "Be reasonable, Bolter. You know as well as I do that the rivers and streams are almost the only roads here. To penetrate elsewhere is to cut your way through the dense jungle. Say I determine to offend the Prince and Princess, and take soldiers, saying I mean to search their little towns, what good would that do?"

"None, certainly," said the doctor. "They would not leave their prisoners there if they are prisoners."

"You doubt, then?"

"I doubt, and I don't doubt. I am not a diplomat, Harley. This is out of my line. If you have a pain, and give me your symptoms, I'll tell you what causes that pain. I can cut you anywhere without injuring an important artery, nerve, or vein; and I can extract bullets, cure fevers, mend broken bones. I can also cla.s.sify most of the natural history objects of our district; but over a job like this we have in hand I am at sea. Try Mrs Bolter or Grey Stuart--they will counsel you better than I. Tell me, though, are you going to do anything?"

"Yes. In confidence, I do not trust either Murad or the Inche Maida.

This may all be some deeply-laid plot of both to obtain revenge; perhaps to begin ousting us from this place, where we are looked upon with jealousy."

"Yes, very likely; but what are you going to do?"

"Meet Eastern cunning with Eastern cunning. I am about to employ some people from lower down the river who are now seeking alliance with us, seeing how well it pays."

"What, as spies?"

"Yes," said the Resident, quietly. "I do not believe in the present theory of the disappearance, so I shall try these people. If Murad is playing us false, why then--"

"Well, why don't you finish?"

"I fear," said the Resident, fiercely, "that I shall go farther than to exact stern justice for this act; for when a man's feelings are touched as mine are now--"

He did not finish, but turned sharply away, as if all this was more than he could bear.

That night the doctor whispered to his wife to keep her counsel, and not to fret about those who were lost, for Neil Harley was deeply moved; and if something startling did not come out of it before many days were past, he, Dr Bolter, was no man.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

BECOMING HUMBLED.

The secret of the peculiarly-scented water was explained: it was a stain, prepared for the purpose, and face, neck, hands, arms were no longer those of Helen Perowne--whose complexion was acknowledged even by her detractors to be perfect--for as she again gazed within the limits of that little badly-reflecting gla.s.s, it was to see that her countenance now was as swarthy as that of the darkest of the Malays by whom she was attended.

It was a great shock; but there was a trouble even worse to come.