The Bronze Bell Part 31

"Only Labertouche would have to communicate with me by such stealth,"

he considered. "Besides, that reference to the photograph--"

He slipped hurriedly into his clothing and ostentatiously dropped the pistol into his right-hand coat-pocket. "I'm ready," he told the man.

"Lead the way; and remember, if there's any treachery afoot, you'll be the first to suffer for it, Dulla Dad."

The Mohammedan bowed submissively. "Be it so, my lord," he said in Hindi, and, moving noiselessly with unshod feet, glided through the door which opened upon the bund, Amber close behind him.

That it was indeed late was shown by the position of the moon; and the sweet freshness of early morning was strong in the keen air. The wind had failed and the lake stretched flawless from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, a sheet of untarnished silver. Over against them the palace slept, or seemed to sleep, in its miraculous beauty, glacier-like with its shining surfaces and deep, purple-shadowed creva.s.ses. There were few lights visible in the city, and the quiet of it was notable; so likewise with the wards outside the walls and the lakeside palaces and villas. Only in a distant temple a drum was throbbing, throbbing.

In the water at their feet a light boat was gently nosing the marble bund. Dulla Dad, squatting, drew it broadside to the steps and motioned Amber to enter. The Virginian boarded it gingerly, seating himself at the stern. Dulla Dad dropped in forward and pushed off. The boat moved out upon the bosom of the lake with scarce a sound, and the native, grasping a double-bladed paddle, dipped it gently and sent the frail craft flying onward with long, swift, and powerful strokes, guiding it directly toward the walls of the Raj Mahal.

Two-thirds of the way across the Virginian surrendered to his mistrust and drew his pistol. "Dulla Dad," he said gently; and the man ceased paddling with a shudder--"Dulla Dad, you're taking me to the palace."

"Yea, hazoor; that is true," the native answered, his voice quavering.

"Who awaits me there? Answer quickly!"

"Hazoor, it is not wise to speak a name upon the water, where voices travel far."

"Dulla Dad!"

"Hazoor, I may not say!"

"I think, Dulla Dad, you'd better. If I lose patience--"

"Upon my head be your safety, hazoor! See, you can fire, and thereafter naught can trouble me. But I, with a single sweep of this paddle, can overturn us. Be content, hazoor, for a little time; then shall you see that naught of harm is intended. My life be forfeit if I speak not truth, hazoor!"

"You have said it," said Amber grimly, "Row on." After all, he considered, it might still be Labertouche. At first blush it had seemed hardly credible that the Englishman could have gained a footing in that vast pile; and yet, it would be like him to seek precisely such a spot--the very heart of the conspiracy of the Gateway, if they guessed aright.

The boat surged swiftly on, while again and again Amber's finger trembled on the trigger. Though already the white gleaming walls towered above him, it was not yet too late--not too late; but should he withdraw, force Dulla Dad to return, he might miss ... what? He did nothing save resign himself to the issue. As they drew nearer the moonlit walls he looked in vain for sign of a landing-stage, and wondered, the lighted bund that he had seen from over the water being invisible to him round an angle of the building. But Dulla Dad held on without a pause until the moment when it seemed that he intended to dash the boat bows first against the stone; then, with a final dextrous twist of the paddle, he swung at a sharp angle and simultaneously checked the speed. Under scant momentum they slid from moonlight and the clean air of night into a close well between two walls, and then suddenly beneath an arch and into a cavernous chamber filled with the soft murmuring of water--and with darkness.

Here the air was sluggish and heavy and dank with the odour of slime.

Breathing it, seeing nothing save the spectral gleam of moonlight reflected inwards, hearing nothing save the uncanny lapping and purring of the ripples, it was not easy to forget the tales men told of palace corruption and crime--of lovers who had stolen thus secretly to meet their mistresses, and who had met, instead, Death; of a.s.sa.s.sins who had skulked by such stealthy ways to earn blood-money; of spies, of a treacherous legion who had gained entry to the palace by such ways as this--perhaps had accomplished their intent and returned to tell the tale, perhaps had been found in the dawn-light, floating out there on the lake with drawn, wan faces upturned to the pallid skies....

"Hazoor!"

It was Dulla Dad's voice, sleek with fawning. For all the repulsiveness of the accents, Amber was not sorry to hear them. At least the native was human and ... this experience wasn't, hardly.... He leaned toward the man, eyes aching with the futile strain of striving to penetrate the blackness. He could see nothing more definite than shadows. The boat was resting motionless on the tide, as if suspended in an abyss of night, fathomless and empty.

"Well, what now?" he demanded harshly. "Be careful, Dulla Dad!"

"Still my lord distrusts me? There is naught to fear, none here to lift hand against you. Your servant lives but to serve you in all loyalty."

"Indeed?"

"My lord may trust me."

"It seems to me I have--too far."

"My lord will not forget?"

"Be sure of that, Dulla Dad.... Well, what are you waiting for?"

"We are arrived, hazoor," said the native calmly. "If you will be pleased to step ash.o.r.e, having care lest you overturn the boat, the steps are on your left."

"Where?... Oh!" Amber's tentative hand, groping in obscurity, fell upon a slab of stone, smooth and slippery, but solid. "You mean here?"

"Aye, hazoor."

"And what next?"

"I am to wait to conduct you back to your place of rest."

"Um-m. You are, eh?" Amber, doubtful, tried the stone again; it was substantial enough; only the boat rocked. He struck a match; the short-lived flame afforded him a feeble, unsatisfactory impression of a long, narrow, vaulted chamber, whereof the floor was half water, half stone. There was a landing to the left, a rather narrow ledge, with a low, heavy door, bossed with iron, in the wall beyond.

Shaking his head, he lifted himself cautiously out of the boat. "You stay right there, Dulla Dad," he warned the native, "until I see what happens. If I catch you trying to get away--the boat'll show up nicely against the opening, you know--I'll give you cause for repentance."

"I am here, hazoor. Turn you and knock upon the door thus"--rapping the gunwale of the boat--"thrice."

Amber obeyed, wrought up now to so high a pitch of excitement and suspense that he could hardly have withdrawn had he wished to and been able to force Dulla Dad to heed him. As he knuckled the third signal, the door swung slowly inward, disclosing, in a dim glow of light, stone walls--a bare stone chamber illumined by a single iron lamp hanging in chains from the ceiling. Across the room a dark entry opened upon a pa.s.sageway equally dark.

By the door a servant stood, his att.i.tude deferential. As the Virginian's gaze fell upon him he salaamed respectfully.

Amber entered, his eyes quick, his right hand in his pocket and grateful for the cold caress of nickelled steel, his body poised lightly and tensely upon the b.a.l.l.s of his feet--in a word, ready.

Prepared against the worst he was hopeful of the best: apprehensive, he reminded himself that he had first met Labertouche under auspices hardly more prepossessing than these.

The clang of the door closing behind him rang hollowly in the stillness. The warder moved past him to the entrance of the corridor.

Amber held him with a sharp question.

"Am I to wait here?"

"For a moment, Heaven-born!" He disappeared.

Without a sound a door at Amber's elbow that had escaped his cursory notice, so cunningly was it fitted in the wall, swung open, and a remembered voice boomed in his ears, not without a certain sardonic inflection: "Welcome, my lord, welcome to Khandawar!"

Amber swung upon the speaker with a snarl. "Salig Singh!"

"Thy steward bids thee welcome to thy kingdom, hazoor!"

Dominating the scene with his imposing presence--a figure regal in the regimentals of his native army--the Rajput humbled himself before the Virginian, dropping to his knee and offering his jewelled sword-hilt in token of his fealty.

"Oh, get up!" snapped Amber impatiently. "I'm sick of all this d.a.m.ned tomfoolery. Get up, d'you hear?--unless you want me to take that pretty sword of yours and spank you with it!"

A quiver, as of self-repression, moved the body of the man at his feet; then, with a jangle of spurs, Salig Singh leaped up and stood at a distance of two paces, his head high, his black eyes glittering ominously with well-nigh the sinister brilliance of his vibrating emerald aigrette.

"My lord!" he cried angrily. "Are these words to use to one who offers thee his heart and hand? Is this insolence to be suffered by a Rajput, a son of Kings?"

"As for that," returned Amber steadily, giving him look for look, "your grandfather was a _bunia_ and you know it. Whether or not you're going to 'suffer' what you call my insolence, I don't know, and I don't much care. You've made a fool of me twice, now, and I'm tired of it. I give you my word I don't understand why I don't shoot you down here and now, for I believe in my heart you're the unholiest scoundrel unhung. Is that language plain enough for you?"

For an instant longer they faced one another offensively, Amber cool enough outwardly and inwardly boiling with rage that he should have walked into the trap with his eyes open, Salig Singh trembling with resentment but holding himself in with splendid restraint.