The Path to Honour Part 4

"Quite true," said Gerrard again.

The Sirdar bent towards him. "Then, since he betrays his own masters thus, from whom does he look for reward?" he asked triumphantly.

"The Resident desires no reward but the grat.i.tude of the Granthis, if that may be had, Sirdar Sahib."

"And the grat.i.tude of the Granthis is to place him on the _gaddi_ as King of Granthistan?" The old man's self-satisfaction was so evident as he displayed his ac.u.men in detecting this deep-laid plot that Gerrard almost laughed in his face.

"Nay, Sirdar Sahib, he trusts to see young Lena Singh on his father's throne, ruling as an upright king, when he himself has returned an old man to England. But excuse me a moment."

The Eurasian apothecary, the only man in the camp who could speak English, had entered deprecatingly, with a visage of alarm. Gerrard spoke sharply.

"Don't look so frightened, Mr Moraes. What is it?"

"Zere are soldiers approaching, sar--a whole armee. What is to be done?"

"Bid Sirdar Badan Hazari send the men to their posts, and challenge the strangers before they get within musket-shot." He turned again to the old man. "You think that Colonel Antony might wish to make himself King of Granthistan, but which of all the English has ever done such a thing?"

"Nay, but they conquered for their masters. This man who resists his masters must surely have some advantage for himself in view?"

"Sahib!" It was the little boy who spoke eagerly before Gerrard could answer; "who are these men with guns and swords, and why do they come before the tent?"

Gerrard cast a careless glance at his twelve troopers, noticing that the old Sirdar did not move a muscle. "They are to protect my guests, little prince," he answered.

"But why are their guns pointed this way?"

"That my guests may see them, and know themselves safe."

"Your guests are much indebted to your thoughtfulness, sahib," said the old man, with something of mockery in his tone. Gerrard would have given much to know what was pa.s.sing behind those inscrutable eyes. Was that long curved dagger, with the handle of which the Sirdar's fingers were continually playing, destined to be sheathed in his heart at the moment that an attack was made upon the camp from without? It almost looked like it, and yet why had the old man given such a hostage to fortune as the child he had brought with him? To prevent a flagging in the conversation, which might have been attributed to nervousness, Gerrard brought out his sketch-book, and requested the honour of taking the portraits of Sirdar Hari Ram and his grandson. The request was granted, but before the water for which he called had been brought Moraes appeared again.

"Ze strange officer desire to see you, sar. He say he Rajah Partab Singh's _Komadan_." [1]

"Tell him to send a message, since I am engaged with guests."

"He say you must give up zose persons, sar. Old man and leetle boy, he come to look for zem."

"Then tell him to come and take them. And you can promise him in my name a pretty tough job if he does." He turned from Moraes with n.o.ble disdain, and bestowed a rea.s.suring smile upon his guests.

"Sahib," said the old man, "the wise lingers not where his presence is an inconvenience. The youth who has just left us appeared to desire our departure."

"His desires are of no moment, Sirdar Sahib, even were he so unmannerly as to express them."

"But it is the part of a churl to bring danger upon a host, sahib, and I have many enemies. Is it possible that there are those without who demand that I should be yielded up to them?"

"Since you ask, it is so, but you need have no fear that I shall comply," said Gerrard, more puzzled than ever.

"Nay, sahib, but I myself will depart with the child, so that neither your honour nor your safety will be menaced."

"You will do nothing of the kind, Sirdar Sahib. What! shall I suffer a guest to step from my very carpet into the hands of his foes? You would cover me with disgrace from the mountains to the sea."

"I will not bring trouble upon you, sahib. Suffer us to go."

"Certainly not. I will rather use violence to keep you. A word to these men of mine----"

The veins on the old man's forehead swelled, and his eyes flamed. "By the Guru! if the slaves of Lena Singh and the English dare to lay a finger on me----!" he cried. "Foolish young man, will you keep me from my own troops? I am the Rajah Partab Singh."

Gerrald stepped back with a bow. "Maharaj-ji, you are free to depart.

I had not thought that the man whom I welcomed to my tent designed to pick a quarrel with me. Depart freely, and your son with you, but bear me witness that I did not fail in hospitality."

"Nor shall you find Partab Singh deficient in hospitality, O son of n.o.ble parents!" cried the old man, softening suddenly. "Know this, my friend. I designed to put you to a test, to prove your courtesy, your courage, your good faith, that I might see whether the English were indeed to be trusted. Well has Antni Sahib done in sending one like you, since he could not come himself!"

[1] Commandant.

CHAPTER IV.

"A-HUNTING WE WILL GO."

"Here are ten rupees for you, Somwar Mal. You did me good service to-day," said Gerrard to his Munshi, who salaamed to the very ground.

"May the Protector of the Poor continue to be as a spreading tree, under whose branches this slave and all his house may find shelter!" he said devoutly. Gerrard thought he had departed, but looking up presently, saw him still standing humbly with folded hands.

"What is it, Munshi-ji?" he asked him.

"Sahib, among the attendants who accompanied the Rajah Partab Singh when he departed was a certain scribe, who made himself known to this slave as the grandson of his father's cousin, and asked leave to visit him this evening."

"Well, what of that? You may be able to get some useful information out of him. Ah, I see; you think he may be coming as a spy?"

"This slave has no doubt, sahib, that the young man will be commissioned to discover whether the Protector of the Poor was aware of the ident.i.ty of the Rajah and his son when he received them, or not.

What answer does the Presence desire should be given?"

"Why, the truth, of course!" said Gerrard impatiently.

"It is an order," said Somwar Mal, and salaamed himself out. His employer thought no more about him until just before bedtime, when the Munshi, his face beaming with modest gratification, sought another interview.

"This slave was not mistaken, sahib. The young man did his errand with a dexterity that would have deceived many, but not the humble one who watches over the interests of the Presence. The question came as though unpremeditated, as he had expected, and in accordance with the will of the Presence, he gave a true answer, saying that on the first appearance of the strangers on the horizon your honour cried out, 'Behold, some great one cometh! It is in my mind that the Rajah Partab Singh and his son are about to visit the camp.' And very great was the wonder of the young man that your honour could so well have hoodwinked his master."

"O Somwar Mal, you are a spoil-sport!" cried Gerrard. "Do you not see that all the hospitality I showed to the Rajah--all my faithfulness to my guests--now goes for nothing?"

The Munshi regarded him with mild reproach. "Nay, sahib, the meanest of men may not fail in hospitality--it is a duty inc.u.mbent upon all; but the power of foreseeing events is a direct gift from Heaven, and will move the Rajah to desire greatly the linking of his fortunes with your honour's. There is also another small matter in which this slave has to-night done what he could to add a stone to the pillar of your honour's prosperity."

"I wish you had asked me first. But let me know what obligations you have undertaken for me."

"The youth, the son of shame, dared to inquire in confidence what were the weaknesses of the Protector of the Poor!" said the Munshi, in an awful whisper. Gerrard fell in with the humour of the occasion.

"And of course you swore that I had none?"