CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
Master and Servant
Ahmed found himself in a small square chamber, dimly lit by an oil-lamp.The air was close, and pervaded by an odour new to him: the pungentodour that salutes one at the entrance of a chemist's shop. The room wasnaturally lofty, but its height was artificially diminished now by alarge blanket spread from corner to corner.
Against the further wall stood a charpoy, and on it lay a tallgrey-bearded man clad in the customary garments of a respectableMohammedan. A table was at his side, with a tray holding a dish and aphial or two. The khansaman was standing at the foot of the bed. At theentrance of Ahmed he uttered a cry, and seized a knife from the table.There was a silence, in the tenseness of which time seemed to beabolished. The khansaman stared with eyes that spoke his fear. ThenAhmed held up his hand and spoke: "Be at peace, good khansaman," hesaid; "I have news of the sahib's daughter."
The man's overcharged feelings found relief in a sob, and the recumbentfigure started up.
"Is it true? You do not mock me?" he cried. "Who are you?"
"I am Ahmed Khan, of Lumsden Sahib's Guides, and I am sent into thiscity by Hodson Sahib, to say that the hazur's daughter is safe atKarnal."
The shock of this good news rendered the doctor speechless. He wasseized with a violent trembling, and the khansaman hastily poured alittle liquid into a glass and gave it to his master. When he hadrecovered he asked Ahmed many questions: whether he had seen the missysahib, how she looked, whether she had received his note, why themessenger had not returned. To these Ahmed replied as well as he could,but he said nothing of the part he had himself played in the saving ofthe girl.
Then he himself asked questions, and learnt from the khansaman thesimple story of the doctor's rescue. He had been left for dead by themutinous sepoys a few yards from his door, and had there been found byKaluja Dass, who had conveyed him by night to the secret undergroundchamber. It was situated immediately below the fountain in the garden,and was ventilated and dimly lit in the daytime through an ingeniousseries of openings in the ornamental stonework at the base of thefountain. What appeared to an observer in the garden as a delicatepattern of tracery was really the ventilating system of the room below.There he had remained ever since. The healing of his wounds had beenslow, and his anxieties and the deprivation of fresh air had retardedthe full recovery of his strength. No one but the khansaman knew of thesecret entrance through the surgery wall, and it had been a happythought of his to place the almirah against it, and to make the slidingpanel. The blanket was stretched across the ceiling so as to prevent astray beam of light from the oil-lamp from filtering through theapertures to the garden.
The doctor was much gratified that Ahmed had been allowed to enter thecity to search for him. He inquired for his old friend General Barnard,to learn with sorrow of his death. He asked eagerly what steps had beentaken to capture the city, and sighed heavily when he heard how thelittle army on the Ridge was waiting until the reinforcements and thesiege-train which Sir John Lawrence was collecting in the Panjab shouldarrive. Again he pleaded with the khansaman to take him from the city,but Ahmed supported the good servant's contention that to attempt toescape now would be to court innumerable perils, and that it was betterto remain in hiding until the city should be retaken. Ahmed promised toacquaint General Wilson--who had succeeded General Reed in thecommand--of the doctor's safety, and to send word to his daughter inKarnal. The khansaman asked very anxiously how the information was to beconveyed to the British lines. He was greatly disinclined to trust anymessenger whom he did not know.
"I will take it myself," replied Ahmed.
During the conversation Dr. Craddock kept his eyes fixed on Ahmed'sface, in the manner of a man seeking to recall something.
"Surely I have seen you before!" he said at length. "Have you been inDelhi before?"
"Never, sahib."
"Perhaps it was in Lahore?"
"No, sahib; I have never been there."
"I must be mistaken, then, but it seemed to me that I knew your face."
And now he was eager to get away. He did not forget the double duty hehad to fulfil: news must be conveyed to the Ridge of the great assaultintended for the morrow. He would have been content to inform Fazl Hakof this, and trust him to send it by one of his messengers; but thediscovery of the doctor was a matter so personal to him that he wasdisinclined to entrust it to any one. Accordingly, he took leave of thedoctor, receiving from him an affectionate message for his daughter, andthen, accompanied by the khansaman, he returned by the narrow windingstair to the upper room. The two crept silently through the passage tothe back staircase, and passed the servants' quarters, and came to thedoor leading to the garden. The khansaman noiselessly drew the bolt, andAhmed stepped out. There was a sudden rush in the darkness. In a momenthe was overwhelmed and thrown to the ground. Struggle as he might, hecould not prevent the two men who had seized him from binding his arms,and then he was dragged back into the house and up the stairs, beingfinally deposited at the door of Minghal Khan's room.
The great man was very ill-tempered at being roused from sleep by theloud calls of his darwan. He cried out to know why his sleep was thusdisturbed.
"Hazur, I have done a great deed!" cried the darwan; "even caught a dogof a robber. Open, O Great One, and see what thy servant hasaccomplished in his great zeal."
Minghal Khan came to the door and called for the khansaman to bring alight. Several minutes passed, and the khansaman did not appear. Growingimpatient, Minghal dispatched the khitmutgar--the second of Ahmed'scaptors--to fetch a lamp from the kitchen. Meanwhile the darwanexplained.
"Hazur, my eyes were heavy with sleep, but before seeking my charpoy Iwent, as is my wont, to see that all was safe for the night. In that Iam not as other darwans, that eat and drink and take no thought fortheir masters. And lo, beneath the portico, I found a lathi and a ropewith a hook at the end, and I wondered with a great wonderment. And Icalled the khansaman, but he came not; peradventure he has gone out onsome evil work this night. And then I called Said the khitmutgar, andtogether we talked of what this thing might be. And even as we talked weheard the gentle drawing of the bolt, and we stood at the door, and whenthis son of perdition came out we seized on him, and have even nowbrought him before thee; surely no punishment can be too great for him."
The khitmutgar returned with a light. Minghal and the darwan recognizedat the same moment that the prisoner was no other than the deferentialtrader whom they had seen in the morning. Of the two the darwan was themore amazed.
"Dog, what is this?" cried Minghal. "Comest thou in the night to rob me?What hast thou to say, rogue?"
Being a robber by profession himself, Minghal felt no moral indignation,and no great personal rancour against this trader who had broken intohis house. It was his chief thought to turn the incident in some way toaccount.
"Hazur," began Ahmed, "I am the most unworthy of thy servants. I did butcome to visit my good friend the darwan."
"Hazur, he has a lying tongue," interrupted the scandalized darwan. "Afriend! Allah slay me if I would ever speak two comfortable words tosuch a dog."
"Chup!" cried Minghal. "Say on, banijara."
"The darwan has even eaten of my sweetmeats----"
"Perdition light on him!" cried the darwan. "Verily I should chokeif----"
"Chup, I say! Make thy story short, dog."
"And when I found him not at the door I made bold to enter. Butbethinking me then that the hazur, not knowing of my great friendshipwith the darwan, might see me and conceive ill thoughts, I feared, andwas seeking to slip out when this pig, who has eaten my sweetmeats, setupon me most vilely, as the hazur sees."
"Verily thou art a monstrous liar, banijara," said Minghal. "What of therope and the hook, and the lathi? What hast thou to say of them, dog?"
"Hazur, what should I know of them; is thy servant a camel-driver?"
Minghal laughed. The trader's explanation was too glib. He wondered whatthe truth
was. Had the man heard of his recent present of rupees andcome to rob him? or was there more in it? He looked keenly at Ahmed, andsuddenly noticed something strange about his beard. He stepped up to himand, taking it in his hand, began to pull, not too gently. Ahmedprotested; it is an insult to a Mohammedan to pluck his beard; butMinghal laughed again, and continued pulling. In the struggle at thedoor a small portion of the false beard had become detached, and Minghalscented a disguise. He pulled, the beard came away gradually, with nolittle pain to Ahmed, for the adhesive was a strong one.
"Hold thy light nearer, khitmutgar," said Minghal.
The beard came off, and there was the banijara revealed as asmooth-faced youth. The darwan uttered cries of amazement and reproach.Minghal gave a chuckle of satisfaction.
"Wah! I know thee who thou art," he said. "Did not my heart kindle whenI beheld thee? As Asadullah that old dog Rahmut Khan comes to Delhi totrouble me; as a mean banijara the puppy comes to spy upon me that hemay carry away the scent to the old dog. Verily it is a good day forthee, darwan, and thou shalt have five rupees--no, that is too much--tworupees, for bakshish. Go find that khansaman."
"I have sought for him, hazur, but found him not," said the khitmutgar.
"Go seek again."
The khitmutgar departed, and returned in a minute with Kaluja Dass,grave and imperturbable as ever.
"Where hast thou been?" demanded Minghal.
"Hazur, where could I be but in my own little place, sleeping the sleepof a just servant when his work is done?"
"Bring me the keys of the strong rooms below."
In these strong rooms the princes of Delhi, who had once owned thehouse, had kept their valuables, and on occasion their prisoners. Theywere now empty. The khansaman brought the keys. Ahmed was taken down bya narrow staircase like that which led to Dr. Craddock's hiding-place. Adoor was opened. He was pushed in, Minghal and the servants enteredafter him. The room was stone-walled, stone-flagged, and bare. There wasno window, but a small grating high up in one of the walls; below it wasan iron staple.
"I know thy wiles," said Minghal. "Thou hast escaped me twice; thricethou shall not. Bring a chain," he added to the khansaman. "Verily Allahis good," he continued, when the man was gone. "Thou art a Feringhi, andwhen all the Feringhis are ground between the upper and the nethermill-stone, there will be one among them whom they know not. But thatwill be when I have had my profit of thee."
The chain was brought, and Ahmed was firmly fettered to the staple.
"Give me the key, khansaman; I will keep it," said Minghal. "And know,all of you, that if this dog slips his leash, I will not only dismissyou all that moment from my service, but I will even have you floggedvery thoroughly, so that you will groan for many days. That is my word;take heed to it."
And then they all went out, Minghal turned the key in the door, andAhmed was left alone.
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