Voices in the Night Part 55

'Will you come here, please?' Jack Raymond said to her quietly. 'You'll find a pencil and paper, I expect, on the table--and where is the cipher telegram--oh, there!--that will do. Now, _baboo_, telegraph that right, will you? Miss Drummond, if you will look over and tick the letters off as he signals them, and _let me know when he makes a mistake_, I'll--I'll settle it!'

He drew the revolver out of his pocket as he spoke, and stood to one side to let those two pa.s.s to the instrument. 'Of course, _baboo_,' he continued, 'the lady, who--unfortunately for you--can signal, could do it herself, but I prefer that you should do what you are told. Do you understand?'

The greyness and the greenness became almost deathlike. And Lesley Drummond's colour forsook her also. Would it be a death-warrant she would have to give by looking up and saying 'Wrong'? It might be.

His face--the face she was accustomed to see so careless--looked stern enough now even for that. Yet it might be needful. This treachery--there had not been time to exchange a single word about it--might mean so much. But _he_ would know how much, and so be able to judge.

Yet as she bent over the telegram, ticking the--to her--unmeaning cipher off, letter by letter, she felt that her heart echoed that uneven shudder of the handles; and she felt that Jack Raymond's eyes upon her, as he watched for a sign, were like the eyes of fate. Would she have to give that sign? And if so, what would happen? There was no thought of pity _for the man_, in her mind, only a great dread, a horrible apprehension, of this responsibility _for herself_. Yet it must be so; she knew that, though the words, 'Don't--don't, please, don't--oh! don't be a fool,' came constantly to the very verge of her lips.

'Is that all?' asked Jack Raymond, when a longer pause than usual came.

She felt quite sick and giddy with relief as she nodded--for even now she feared lest a look up might be construed into a sign.

'I ought to have told you-before you began--that his sort aren't obstinate,' he went on observantly. 'There is no fear of--of that--Miss Drummond! So now, please, for the station-master. And I think it will be better to tell them not to wire back. There are evidently railway men in this affair; besides, we mustn't risk being found out too soon, must we? So "extreme caution" and "utmost secrecy" is our game--the great thing is to get the troops started before we _are_ found out.'

Found out! Lesley had hardly realised that view of the matter as yet, and the thought gave her a qualm. Yet she went on checking the _baboo's_ signals and the brief answers that were asked for, just to show that the orders were understood.

When that was over, Jack Raymond looked at the _baboo_ distastefully, then turned to the girl--'I'm puzzled what to do with him,' he said in French; whereat the _baboo_ seemed to give up all hope of escape and sank in a dejected heap on the floor, rocking himself backwards and forwards, and murmuring, 'I quite innocent man--oh, my lord! innocent as suckling babes,' until Jack bid him be quiet.

'It is no use wasting time by trying to find out how far he is in it.

He would only lie, and I know enough for the present. As I told you coming along, the danger is in the native regiment refusing to keep order, if they are _asked_ to do so. That would be mutiny, and the knowledge of the penalty would make the men reckless, and there might--excuse me--be the devil of a row; What we want to do is to avoid the necessity for asking them, by having other men available. They won't be wanted before ten o'clock at earliest--the rush on the hospitals was to be about midnight. The Fareedabad fellows should be here, at latest, by nine--plenty of time! And if we let Sir George and Co. know what we have done by, say, eight o'clock, that should do. It is no use giving ourselves away too soon, and the thing we have to make certain of is that the Fareedabad men do come up to time. Now, I could tie the _baboo_ up and lock the door on him, but how am I to guard against the likelihood of fellow-conspirators coming to look after him?

_They_ might get to sending telegrams; they may be sending them now through the other office for all I know, in which case they must be stopped here. At any rate, this man must have been on his guard against any communication with Fareedabad, or he would not have been so sharp.

In fact, if we had gone to the Post Office, he would never have repeated our message: for, as I told you, the only wire to Fareedabad is the railway one. _That_, I expect, is why he was on duty. However, I'm inclined to think we had best stop here, for a time, and make certain. Of course, if one of us could stop and the other go, it might be best. But I can't do without you--a message might come through any moment and I should be in _his_ hands, the brute!--he thought himself quite safe, and would have been, but for you! You locked the door, didn't you?'

He walked over to it, however, to make sure of the fastening, and then pushed the heavy office table across it. 'They may have duplicate keys, and I don't want them inside,' he explained. Then he stood for a moment looking at the girl--'I m awfully sorry; but you won't mind, I know. I wonder if there is a cushion anywhere to make you more comfortable. No!

but a ledger will be better than the bare floor.' He took one or two and placed them behind the table. 'Now, if you don't mind sitting down there, where I can see you and n.o.body else can--even if we have to open the shutter--that will do nicely.' Then he turned to the heap in the corner. 'Now get up, _baboo-jee_,' he said politely, 'and resume your duties; you can sit on that stool. If anybody comes along, keep quiet, and don't open the shutter till I give the signal. Then you can transact business as usual. But mind, if you try it on again, the Miss-_sahiba_ will warn me, and I will--warn you.'

He laid the revolver ostentatiously on the table, then--borrowing the _baboo's_ comforter, which was hanging on a peg--he sat down at the table in a beautifully _baboo_-esque att.i.tude with his legs twined round his chair.

'Will I do?' he asked gravely of Lesley when he had finished making himself a smoking-cap out of black transfer-paper, and she could not help laughing softly.

'I a.s.sure you it is very serious, he said, smiling also; 'and I'm awfully sorry to keep you; but you ought to get back in time for dinner.'

'Dinner!' she echoed, a trifle hurt, 'surely dinner----'

'Is a minor matter? Never! Besides, I hope to G.o.d we are both going to have a _good_ dinner to-night; for that means--success. There is no earthly reason why there _should_ be a row, you know. If we see this through, and the troops come up to time----' he paused, lost in his own previsions. 'Well,' he said finally, 'we had better not talk. A native's bare feet are more inaudible than our whispers, and it won't do to be found out. So--steady it is for an hour or so.'

An hour! Lesley's heart sank after the first ten minutes. They seemed interminable to her, seated on the ledgers behind the table. She could just see Jack Raymond at the other end of it, his head down on his crossed arms. Was he dozing? As likely as not; he was just that sort; while her nerves were quivering. The action had been well enough; the excitement of that had carried her with it; but now----? What if Mr.

Raymond's estimate of the danger had been excessive? He had once, long ago, fired on a mob in too great haste. At least Government had thought so. What had possessed her, in a moment, to trust his judgment absolutely--to cast in her lot with his, as it were, unreservedly? She blushed even in the darkness, that was fast obscuring all things, at the thought----

'You had better light the lamp, _baboo_. There is one, isn't there? by your desk,' came his voice calmly.

Then he was not asleep!

'And he was very kind. But if they were found out? If they asked her why she had done this thing, what would she answer? What _could_ she say to Grace Arbuthnot, who had been wiser; even though she had loved----

The lamp flared up under the _baboo's_ trembling fingers and showed her face.

'You poor child!' came his voice again, 'I'm bitterly sorry; but it can't be long now; and--and let's hope for that good dinner!'

She was glad of the jesting finish, glad that the lamp went out this time under those trembling fingers. When it flared up again she was ready to be more cheerful. And it was an easier task after that, for the deadly quiet pa.s.sed and the thrill came into life again, making her forget the question--What if they should be found out?--in the possibility of being found out all too soon.

For some one tried the handle of the door hurriedly, called loudly on Mohun Ditta to come out and report; then after a time departed with curses.

'You had better open the shutter, _baboo_,' said Jack Raymond; 'and go on, not exactly as if I wasn't here--that mightn't be safe under the circ.u.mstances--but as if you were thinking of your pension.'

'Yes, sir,' bleated the _baboo_, 'I will do best endeavours to please.'

So silence fell again, to be broken by another step outside; clearly an English step, making the listener at the table look up as the steps died away.

'Here, _baboo_! send this off quick!' came an English voice; and Jack Raymond had hard work not to look round.

But the wire was only to lay odds on a race in Calcutta; and even the strain of listening for each unknown letter did not come to Lesley, for the _baboo_ showed the adaptability of his kind, by reading out the words loudly and saying, 'Is that right, sir?' to the sender.

'I hope so, _baboo_!' said the English boy with a laugh, 'or I shall be stony broke!' So the steps died away once more.

'Only twenty minutes left!' remarked Jack Raymond as silence fell again; but not for long. The first voice came back--this time to the shutter--full of reproaches; and the frantic anxiety of the _baboo_ to keep the conversation within bounds, and prevent anything absolutely incriminating from cropping up, made one listener smile as he sat pretending to copy way-bills into a ledger. And when the voice pa.s.sed on, and he turned to look, he laughed outright to see the wretched creature mopping the perspiration off his forehead.

'Had about enough?' he began, then paused, for an imperative 'kling kling' rang out from the electric bell.

'Asking if the line is clear,' said Lesley from her post, and Jack Raymond rose and stretched himself.

'Then that's over! The train has reached Bahana, and we can go--and--and face the rest!' He held out his hand to help her to rise.

Face it! Could she? She hesitated, and at that moment a step sounded outside, rapid, with a clink in it--the clink of spurs!

'Here, _baboo!_' said a guttural Northern voice. 'This for dispatch--_be-rung_ (bearing) _Sirkari_. Take it, fool--I have no time to lose--and give receipt!'

There was a pause, then the clink of spurs pa.s.sed again, and Jack Raymond, who had slipped into his chair, crossed to the desk, looked over the _baboo's_ shoulder at the telegram, which was in cipher, and turned to Lesley smiling.

'Perhaps we shan't have to face it after all! They are sending to Fareedabad off their own bat. Well! better late than never!' There was a ring of bitterness in his voice.

'You mean----' began Lesley, who had crossed too, and now stood looking down at the official signature below the cipher with a half comprehension.

'That they will be a bit surprised when the troops turn up at nine; but stay! we can dodge them a bit! _Baboo!_ what time was this telegram given in?'

The baboo glanced at the clock. 'A quarter to eight, sir.'

'Nothing of the kind!' contradicted Jack Raymond in a tone of voice which turned his hearer grey-green once more; 'it came in at--let me see, what is the latest I can give it?--twenty minutes to seven. Fill that in, _baboo_, and file it--not there, you fool!--below the other one--_that_ didn't come in till half-past! You won't forget these facts, will you? If you don't, I--I won't remember that you made a _mistake in telegraphing_ at first. Do you understand? Now, Miss Drummond, you should have just time to get home and dress for dinner.'

After he had pushed away the table and unlocked the door, she followed him out into the still almost-deserted station without a word. A lamp or two had been lit; at the farther end a group of coolies lounged; closer in, a light showed from an office.

'I'll bring the cycles,' said Jack Raymond, and she pa.s.sed out from the semi-darkness and shadow into the clear dusk beyond, and stood waiting, full of a vague amazement at herself and all things.

Behind the long line of sheds, the overhanging bastion belonging to the Royal Pensioners rose dark against the sky, where the sunset still lingered pale, flawless. But the risen moon turned the slanting silhouette into a reality of brick and mortar, and the dark spots crowning it to the figures of men.

And overhead, those specks in the pearl grey were kites; for the 'Sovereignty of Air'--delayed by the necessity for some of the compet.i.tors appearing on the 'memorable occasion'--had not yet been awarded. Five or six kites still floated for the supremacy, and many a pair of dark eyes watched them, wondering which would soar the longest, and gain the Kingship. Lateefa's most of all, as in his capacity of kite-maker to the Royal Family he pulled in each kite as it sank, and added it to the bundle of the vanquished. Only six kites left, and one of them carried the sign of Kingship with a vengeance; for he had been too late, as he had feared he would be, in his visit to the courtyard.

Six kites, and which of them held the ring?

No wonder his eyes never left those hovering specks that still defied the falling dew.