Voices in the Night Part 52

'We are dreadfully late, I'm afraid,' called the former concernedly.

'Are you coming?'

Was he coming? And she could fret herself over being two minutes late!

Good women were really quite incomprehensible, especially in India, where they did so little to deserve the name. The hundred or so, for instance, in church at that present moment--did they do an atom more--no! not half so much as he did--for the good of the world around them, or the Empire--except perhaps in supplying it with sons! Yet there they would be, quite satisfied with themselves. The thought attracted him. He was in no hurry himself to do the thing he knew he must do--in fact, any delay was welcome--so he turned into the church compound also, and stood decorously at the door till the Absolution, which was being given, was over, before slipping into the nearest seat, next to a very stout old lady whose only claim to be considered even a Eurasian was her bonnet. But as he had stood for those brief moments looking over the heads of the bowed congregation, he had noticed, with a sense of the humour of the thing, that the percentage of dark blood in the worshippers could be very fairly gauged by their distance from the white robes of the choir boys! The good lady beside him, however, ended the scale of colour, for the native Christian, _pur et simple_, was, of course, absorbed by the Mission churches.

And the non-Christian native? There was no sign of him either. No sound of him, no thought even of him from beginning to end! Jack Raymond stood up decorously, and sat down decorously, knelt decorously, and listened decorously, with a sense of unreality, a sense of dislocation from his surroundings, that was not much less keen than Chris Davenant's had been when he listened to the 'Society for the General Good of Peoples' at Hafiz Ahmad's house. The sermon--a good one in its way--might have been preached in a London suburb, save for this, that beyond a little perfunctory solacing of Eurasian paupers, there was none of the active attempt to carry words into deeds which would have existed in the listeners of a suburban congregation. Absolutely, utterly, none. Not one woman there knew as much as he, the idler, of the hard poverty-stricken lives of the people. Yet these very women, when they went home, would feel themselves accursed as worldlings if they did not district-visit or join the Charity Organisation!

These considerations did not improve one listener's temper. On the contrary, they increased his desire for delay; for, having already warned Sir George that, in his opinion, the city was more unstable than authority seemed to think, he washed his hands of that responsibility. All he had to do, therefore, was to get and pay for this paper, if needful, and so prevent its being made use of against the Government--prevent its being a worry to--to Jerry's mother!

He therefore had lunch and a cigar quietly. It was, in fact, close on four o'clock when he started, riding, for the city. But at the nearest gate to the bazaar, whence the threat of using the information had emanated, he gave his pony to the _sais_, bidding him go home; since he knew by experience the attention which a European on horseback excites in a native town, and without in the least wishing for concealment, he had no desire to be followed by gossip-mongers. The gate in question was that giving on the poor Hindoo quarter, the gla.s.s-bangle makers, the poultry keepers, the burden carriers, and--in a sort of off-shoot half-in, half-out of the city--the leather workers; that curious cla.s.s, apart from all caste and creed, yet necessary to all, and from their ignorance, their isolation, the most difficult to civilise.

So far Jack Raymond, personally, had seen and heard nothing beyond Aunt Khojee's tale, as reported by Lateefa, to give grounds for more than caution; but he had not gone a dozen yards down the miserable bazaar which served the neighbourhood, before he realised that action might be necessary. Most of the shops were shut, and scarcely a human being was to be seen; signs--in upside-down Eastern fashion--that the peace of the people was disturbed. And it might mean more. These signs, to be seen of all, might have been duly reported to the proper authorities and been disregarded by them. But if they had not been so reported, there could, considering the perfection of organisation for such reports which exists in every native town, be but one explanation of the fact--treachery! He would find out about this, he told himself, merely for his own satisfaction, on his way back, since the minor treachery of police constables and such like had its price, and he had five thousand rupees in his pocket towards a good deed! It would be curious if, after all----

The thought of Lesley made him smile good-humouredly. What with the _ram rucki_ and the green sleeves, and now this possible good deed, it was hopeless to escape that young person. He walked on more cheerfully, and in a few minutes found himself in the courtyard of Dilaram's house on his way to Govind's den on the second story; since his--as yet unknown--quarry had given that address. The whole house, however, was so still, so deserted, that he half feared his journey might be in vain. But it was not so. The door, marked 24 in rough white letterings, was ajar, and Govind, yawning, dishevelled, rose from a corner with an apology of a _salaam_ as his visitor entered. The room was almost empty. Even the printing-press had disappeared, gone, like all else, in the attempt to live upon lies; for, even with Govind's nose for nastiness, he had been driven to sell the goodwill, stock, and block of the '_Ear of the Wise_' to another unwise aspirant towards literary fame. His last issue had been the one detailing the horrors of Sobrai's disgrace and Noormahal's death; to the unusual success of which, especially among the Mohammedan soldiers in cantonments, had been due the unexpected offer to buy the going concern. The would-be purchaser being a new discontent, who, having been turned out of a regimental office for falsifying returns, was keen on revenging himself by spreading disaffection in the native army. Govind had naturally jumped at the offer, and for two days past had been debauching himself on the proceeds, in certain antic.i.p.ation of more money to come from the sale of something which could no longer be used as copy; for, he told himself, even if his first bold bid for a buyer produced no results, almost every native newspaper in Nushapore would be glad of anything which might help to damage--when the proper time came--the good faith of their rulers.

But now, as the figure of a _sahib_ showed at the door, his _bhang_-dulled eyes lit up with triumph; the next moment, however, he was murmuring a humble '_Gharib-nawaz!_' and wishing that the earth would open and swallow him--wishing he had never sent the letter! But who could have dreamt of its being answered by _Rahman-sahib_!

'Oh! it is you, is it?' remarked Jack Raymond, recognising an old club _baboo_ whom he had run in for theft of cigars. 'You are Govind Ram, editor, are you? That simplifies matters. I suppose you wrote this, and that the talk of knowing a man who knows, etc., is the usual business.

You have a paper--you want five thousand rupees for it--just like your cheek! You'll get two. Hand it over.'

He made the offer advisedly; for he knew the man to have friends in the Secretariat; knew, briefly, that he was a likely man to have got hold--if not of the lost letter, yet of something confidential. To haggle with him, therefore, was mere waste of time; more especially as he himself had long since ceased to regard the five thousand rupees he carried about with him as his own money. So it might as well go--in a good action!--and save him bother.

It did. Govind, who at most had expected five hundred, lost no time in producing the paper.

Jack Raymond looked at it, then at Govind.

'You d--d fool,' he said softly, 'I don't think you'll find it worth while.'

Then he looked at the crumpled doc.u.ment again. It was merely a _precis_ as it were, written in a clerkly hand, of what the rescinded confidential instructions might have been, such as any one who by chance had seen them--or any scoundrel who had not--could easily have written. Absolutely unauthentic, and of no possible value, as proof of anything.

It was characteristic of Jack Raymond that the idea of taking back the notes which he had given Govind, as had been stipulated in advance, never occurred to him. He was a backer of odds, a better of bets. He had staked money lightly, and lost it. So far good; but he meant to have his money's worth.

'Hold up, you brute!' he said, as Govind writhed at the first touch on the scruff of his neck. 'I won't kill you, but you shall have the soundest licking you ever had in your life.'

As he spoke the lash of the hunting-whip, with which he always rode, curled round Govind's thin legs, making their owner in his sheer animal terror escape from Jack Raymond's hold-strong as it was--to the floor, where he lay on his back, his limbs crunched together like a dead crab's--a hideous spectacle. So hideous that the very licking of such an abject beast seemed impossible.

'_Huzoor_, no!' he gasped. 'No, _Huzoor!_ not that! not that! I will pay it back! I will pay--I will pay----'

'Get up, you brute, and take it decently,' interrupted Jack, feeling more decidedly that if the brute would not, he would have to give up the sickening business. He emphasised his command by another flick with the thong.

The crumpled crablike terror gave a sort of sob, and edged itself--still on its back--till it could kiss Jack Raymond's boots frantically. 'Not that! not that!' it moaned. 'I will pay--yea! I _can_ pay!' Then in a purely insane fear of physical pain, Govind's English came back to him--'O my lord G.o.d almighty, I can give money's worth--I can give cheap--O lord G.o.d, yes! I can tell--listen, listen!' So, without a pause, he burst out into words which first made Jack Raymond hesitate, and then--catching the lash of the whip back into his hand--point to the corner and say, 'Sit down there, you skunk, and tell the truth; don't try to escape, or I really _will_ do for you.'

The tale which came from between Govind's chattering teeth made the listener set his. Here was confirmation of old Khojee's story with a vengeance; explanation also of the closed shops, the empty alleys. And the explanation was so natural. Given an amulet which brought death by the visitation of G.o.d at once, or, in lieu of that, death by removal to hospital and subsequent poisoning, what more obvious palliative--since G.o.d's act must stand--than to strike at the works of the devil? If, by dawn, neither hospitals nor doctors remained, that would surely mend matters. Meanwhile, in every house to which the cursed charm had gone, there must be purification by prayer and fasting, by spells, and incantations, and burnings of the hateful thing.

It did not need much imagination to picture the scene. A narrow court, a dead child or husband awaiting dusk for secret removal, shuddering excited women, hysterical from lack of food, listening to the denunciations of officiating priests and _mullahs_, looking at their dead, at their living--round whose wrists the amulet had been perhaps an hour before--and remembering that though half the evil in the future lay with G.o.d, Who was beyond coercion, the other half lay with men who were!

Not a rea.s.suring scene in a city whose two hundred and odd thousand inhabitants were curiously unreliable.

Still less so, because, if those immediately responsible had been true to their salt, all this information would have been in the strong hands of authorities hours ago.

That it had not been so when he left the club, Jack Raymond felt sure.

Why! he had seen the city magistrate there reading the _Ill.u.s.trated London News!_

'Who is in it? Who is working it? Come, hurry up!' he asked, with a significant dropping of the whip-lash.

Govind squirmed horribly, but protested ignorance. It was not that sort of trouble. No one had thought of it twenty-four hours ago, in spite of all the talk, all the misfortunes, in spite even of the conspirings. It had come of itself.

That was true, the listener knew. This sort of thing always did; but there were always people to help it on, and every hour that had been lost had increased the aiders and abettors. By now, half the city might be implicated.

He took out another thousand-rupee note and held it out.

'Take me to the most likely scoundrel,' he said briefly. 'You understand!'

Govind understood perfectly, and from abject terror pa.s.sed to such infernal, such jubilant betrayal, that Jack Raymond put his hands and his whip behind his back in fear of using them. For he was going to see this thing through. He had still two thousand-rupee notes in his betting-book, and that in a native city meant much; the only caution necessary being not to bribe the wrong person.

He pa.s.sed out into the bazaar with Govind, feeling a curious sense of power, a vast antagonism. He would be wise, he felt, to a.s.sure himself absolutely as to the trend any disturbance would take before going with his information to those who could checkmate it; for, he thought rapidly, a few companies of the native soldiers who were at hand could easily stave off action until proper arrangements could be made.

'It is among the railway people, Protector of the Poor,' said Govind fulsomely--he had reverted absolutely to Hindustani, its ways and works--'that there is most turbulence. For the reason that there is a _baboo_ in charge of works, so there is little fear among them. Then the Bengalis--they have a dispensary of their own, with a saint who works miracles; so they----'

'_Chuprao!_' interrupted Jack Raymond sternly, 'and remember, if you try and throw dust in my eyes, I'll kill you!'

Yet, half an hour afterwards, he felt that he was no nearer a clear conception of what sort of solid backing these vague threats of violence had, than at the beginning. Every one was only too glad--for sums varying from ten to a hundred rupees--to tell what they knew, and, what is more, to pa.s.s the tale-telling on; but the result was not worth the wasted time.

He had told himself this should be his last trial, that time failed for more, when a pure accident put him in possession of certainty. He was coming down an almost pitch-dark tenement stair some little way behind Govind, when a door at the turn below opened and a man came out.

'Lo! Govind! is't thou? Well met!' said the newcomer in a low voice, looking no farther than the figure close to him, seen in the light from the door. 'Be ready for midnight. Tis to be the _Generali-hospitarl_ first--all is arranged. I have a letter here----'

He was pa.s.sing on downwards, but got no further in speech or step, for Govind--impelled by a kick from behind--fell on him like an avalanche, and the next moment Jack Raymond was beside the heap.

'The letter,' he said simply, 'give me the letter!'

He had a brief struggle for it, since this scoundrel had grit, till the b.u.t.t-end of the whip came in savagely handy. By that time Govind had disappeared, rather to Jack Raymond s relief; so, leaving the owner of the letter stunned, he ran downstairs and put an alley or two between him and the scene of the swift scuffle, before looking at his prize; since, Englishman as he was, that was no quarter of the city in which to begin violence.

The letter, which was, of course, in the vernacular, was fairly lengthy, but he saw enough on the first page to make him turn to the end, then with a hurried exclamation take out his watch.

A quarter to six! The next moment he was off as quick as he dared for Government House. He chose the gate giving on the Garden Mound as his exit from the city, since once there, he could run without fear of being stopped as a lunatic or a thief, and another reference to his watch, following on a swift calculation, warned him he had not much time to spare.

Being Sunday, there were no orderlies in waiting at the office entrance, and, knowing his way and the way of the place, he did not pause to call one, but pa.s.sed on through the house to the entrance-hall, where some one was certain to be found.

He was right; but the person was not the one he expected. It was Lesley Drummond, ready in short skirt for a bicycle ride.

'Sir George!' he said sharply. 'I must see him at once!'

She stared at his hurry, his breathlessness. 'Sir George!' she echoed.

'He is not in. He has gone to lay the foundation-stone of the College--every one has gone. I only stopped because of Jerry not being quite well.'

She paused, startled, for Jack Raymond literally threw up his hands in impotent anger. Fool that he had been to forget? Of course! Everybody who could be of any use whatever, in this emergency, would be spouting rot five miles away on the other side of the city! If he had only thought of it before, and gone there instead of here! There might have been time, then, to arrange the only plan which was in the least likely--and now----

'What is it, Mr. Raymond?' came Lesley's voice. 'Let me help if I can.'