Voices in the Night Part 61

They are idle words when the heart is full of forebodings. Grace Arbuthnot was finding them so but a few hundred yards away, though she stood calmly saying them to herself.

'There can be no fear!' she said. 'Why should they do him an injury?'

'Why, indeed?' echoed Sir George with an inward groan, born of wider experience of what men can do in such times as these; 'but what _can_ have become of the child?'

He had returned home but a few moments before--and far later than he had antic.i.p.ated, owing to a raid which had been made on Chris Davenant's and Mr. Lucanaster's bungalows, which had ended in the burning of both--to find the whole household distracted.

For Jerry had disappeared; he was not to be found anywhere, neither was his Mohammedan _chupra.s.si_, nor his Hindoo bearer; both men who worshipped the child, who would to all appearance have given their lives for him.

For an instant Sir George's face had cleared at this information; but it had clouded again at the utter incomprehensibility of the whole affair. Lesley had put the child to bed before she had gone out on her cycle. He had then been quite happy, and was to play with his soldiers on 'The Land of Counterpane' till he felt sleepy. That was the last that had been seen of him. Needham, the maid, who worked in the next room, had heard no disturbance. She had been in and out of other rooms, naturally, but not for long. Grace had given a look in about eight o'clock, had seen the nightlight burning as usual--a little dimmer, perhaps--and, Jerry not having called to her, she had not risked disturbing him. Then had come the dinner-party. People had stayed late; and after they had gone she and Lesley had sat up talking, expecting every instant to hear Sir George return;--growing a little anxious as time went on, until, about half an hour ago, Captain Lloyd--who had gone off after the guests had left to see what news he could pick up--had come back with such good accounts, that Grace had sent Lesley to her bed.

Then, not till then, the child's absence was discovered. How long he had been absent, none could tell, for the only two servants likely to know, the two who never left him day or night, were gone also.

They had hunted everywhere: Nevill Lloyd had run back to the club to give the alarm to the men he had left there a few minutes before, Grace had made every inquiry of the other servants; but, she suggested, perhaps a man accustomed to cross-examining native witnesses might get at some clue--'There is nothing else to be done for the moment,'

a.s.sented Sir George briefly. 'You had better leave me to do it, Grace--if you are here, they will be remembering what they said _to you_.'

So Lesley and Grace--the latter still repeating those words: 'There can be no fear! Who would hurt the child? Why should they choose him, of all others?'--went and waited in the verandah overlooking the Garden Mound, for the first hint of Nevill Lloyd's return. And yet, while Grace said the words, she was conscious that there might be a reason.

If some one wanted to force their hand about that unlucky letter--the letter that now meant the worst, since the troops _had_ been sent for, the promise of no coercion broken at the very beginning; unavoidably of course, yet none the less disastrously, if that letter became public property.

And Lesley's mind, also, was not without its sting of remorse added to its anxiety, as she stood in the fast-lightening dawn looking out into the dim shadows for hint or sign. Ought she to have told Grace why her cycle ride had been so long? Yet _that_ made no difference to _this_, and a knowledge of the truth would only take from Grace a belief that had made her glad.

No! she could not tell her now! She would wait till Jerry returned--if he did return!

Oh! what could have become of the child?

'Jerry! Jerry!' she called almost involuntarily, and with the cry came back a memory of that midnight chase after the boy.

And with that, came the thought of Jack Raymond and his warning--'He takes it too hard, dear little chap.' She laid her hand quickly on Grace Arbuthnot's wrist. 'I believe I know!' she said, starting to run.

'Come! Let us find Budlu first.'

But she was too late; as they rounded the carriage-drive, and saw on the grey sky of dawn above the blossoming trees the flagstaff with its drooping flag ready to welcome the sun as ever, there was a sound of voices, of laughter, from the ruins. And the next moment Nevill Lloyd, catching sight of them, was tearing across the lawns to meet them, shouting as he ran--

'It's all right, Lady Arbuthnot! Raymond ran the little beggar to earth in five minutes. He was up on the top of the tower with his _chupra.s.si_, his bearer, and Budlu the caretaker, and the young imp had got my whole sporting-magazine too! By Jove! if I'd only known _that_, I might have guessed--but Raymond did----

Grace, who had pulled up, felt the relief almost worse than the suspense; yet she kept calm.

'Lesley!' she said, 'run back and tell Sir George.'

'Let me!' cried Nevill Lloyd. 'Or stay! I'd better go and stop the search-parties.'

So, with light hearts and feet, they left Grace alone to meet the little procession that was coming across the dim lawns. Rather a crestfallen little procession--Jerry, full of yawns and but half awake, led by Jack Raymond, and followed by guilty figures carrying the sporting magazine.

'He is very sorry to have made you so anxious,' said Jack Raymond, grave with difficulty, 'but I have promised you won't scold him, because he meant well. He thought it was a mutiny, and he went to guard the flag.'

'And I did guard it!' put in Jerry aggrievedly, 'afore I went to sleep.

For they comed to pull it down--didn't they?' He turned sharply to his henchmen.

'_Huzoor!_' they a.s.sented eagerly, seeing extenuation in the plea, 'without doubt they came.'

'They may have!' said Jack Raymond aside, 'I haven't had time to find out yet. He was asleep when I came, with the key of the door in his hand; and they were positively afraid to take it from him till I insisted!'

'He is more than half-asleep now, poor child,' replied Grace in the same tone, struggling with her desire to laugh, and cry, and hug Jerry all at once. 'Bearer, you had better take the _chota-sahib_ back to his bed, and I will inquire about the rest by and by. Good-night, Jerry! or rather good-morning! You gave poor mum such a fright!'

'I'm solly,' murmured Jerry sleepily, shrinking as ever from the pa.s.sionate caress she could not help giving, 'but they weally did come--didn't they?'

'_Huzoor!_ without doubt they came!' echoed the trio forlornly.

'And I wouldn't be hard on them either,' said Jack Raymond, as the disconsolate little group moved homewards. 'I fancy they must have had some inkling of the city business, and then, when he started this game, they were in two minds if he wasn't right. You were all away, you see.

And Master Jerry was completely master of the situation, I can tell you. He must have been thinking about it for some time, for he had provisions--chocolate caramels, and heaven knows what!--stored in the crevices--dear little chap! And that reminds me'--he paused with a laugh, and drew an official envelope sealed with a red seal out of his pocket--'here's his "Secret Despatches." They fell out of Lloyd's cartridge-case he was wearing, as he came down-stairs--he was so dead sleepy he could hardly stand--and I promised to hand them over to you.

He has had them, he told me, these two months! and they are most important.'

Grace Arbuthnot took the envelope, gave a glance at it, a cry, certain, yet incredulous--

'It is my letter--_the_ letter--how could he have found it!'

There was a pause as those two stood, in the dawn of another day, with that immemorial past about them, looking at each other almost doubtfully.

'There are more things in heaven and earth,' said the man at last. 'And so Jerry really has--hullo, what's up now? What do _you_ want?'

'_Khodawund!_' replied the furtive importance, which was all that remained of the '_khansaman_ to Ricketts-_sahib bahadur_ who was killed,' as it salaamed low to the masters. 'There is a _mem_ yonder in the Residency, whom I, Mohubbut, brought thither as I brought the other, into the keeping of Jan-Ali-shan. And he hath kept her! Yea!

during the night when the evildoers came, he kept her safe as he did of old. But now it is dawn, and though I tell the _mem_ it is safety, she listens not; but if the _Huzoors_ come, she will believe.'

'During the night!' commented Jack Raymond swiftly, as, scarcely able to believe their ears, those two followed the old man's lead. 'Then it is true--Jerry has--has kept the flag!'

CHAPTER XXVI

FAIR ODDS

The pendulum of India is a heavy one; it soon returns to its normal arc; and so, after a very few days, nothing remained to show that any force had sent it beyond its usual swing in Nushapore except the charred ruins of two bungalows; and they, being in Shark Lane, were not so much _en evidence_ as they would have been elsewhere.

So far, even, as personal disturbance to the owners was concerned, the sum-total of effect was small; for Chris Davenant had not returned to hear of his loss, and Mrs. Chris, after the terrors of that night, when she had become part of the old half-crazy _khansaman's_ memory of the past, seemed glad to be rid of any tie to India. Indeed, as the faces around her became graver when no tidings came of her husband, and the impression grew that he and Jan-Ali-shan had, in some mysterious way, been mixed up in the attempt to wreck the train, and the fall of the bastion, she seemed almost relieved. Her one desire was to escape from a place where such terror was possible; to return to London, to its ways and works. To the red Hammersmith 'bus that runs to Kew on Sundays; to the baker, the butcher, and the little greengrocer round the corner. And when she wept, it was chiefly because--having no worldly goods beyond a torn and tattered pink tarlatan--she could not engage her pa.s.sage home, until a sufficient subscription was raised to pay for it. And she had not many friends.

So far as the one bungalow, therefore, was concerned, there were few regrets. On the other hand, Mr. Lucanaster's were distinctly above the average. He had not only been burned out of house and home, but of other more valuable things; since, almost before he had had time to consider how best to ensure their safety, an inrush of voices and steps in the verandah had made him think of that most valuable of all possessions--his life--and leave the rest--even the woman in the next room!

And as if this was not bad enough, something else had occurred which had reduced him to helpless impotent cursing and swearing against Fate, Jehan Aziz, Mrs. Chris Davenant, and everything that had conspired to bring about such incredible ill-luck.

And yet it was a very simple thing, almost ludicrously so.

The very day after the rioting, when all Nushapore was being searched for evidence, the police with great pride had brought him back the casket which had been left open on the table with the pink dewdrops beside it, when Mrs. Chris fled with the _khansaman_ of Rickett-_sahib bahadur_ (who was killed). It was now closed, and had been discovered, they said, in the house of one Govind, who had been arrested on suspicion. And he, to screen himself doubtless from worse accusations, had stated that he had found it flung away on the road not far from the blazing bungalow. Therefore, since it was evidently a jewel casket, it was most likely part of the _Huzoor's_ lost property; and if so, he could detail its contents and open the spring-lock with his key, in order that the description might be duly verified and the necessary forms filled up.

For one brief second Mr. Lucanaster had returned thanks to such G.o.ds as he possessed for this small mercy. Here was something saved from the general _debacle_; to begin with, a very valuable ruby--and----

And then had come the horrid recollection of a certain string of pearls which could not be claimed.