The Outcaste

by F. E. Penny

  CHAPTER XX

  On the afternoon of the same day Wenaston and his sister were at tea inthe verandah when a carriage drove up and stopped just beyond theportico. Out of it stepped Sooba, Pantulu's brother. He was unknownto the Principal, who took him for the parent of one of his pupils.Wenaston rose at once, always courteous, although at times a littlestiff until he was certain that no favours were going to be asked. Toooften the visiting parent, after beating about the bush, would beg thePrincipal to promote his son in the school without due justification.Sometimes a bribe was offered. It required a great deal of patienceand self-control to deal with such people; and it was still moredifficult to persuade them that promotion by favour did not advance theeducation of a boy but rather hindered it.

  "You want to see me on business?" asked Wenaston, advancing to meet hisvisitor. "Come in; I am disengaged for ten minutes, which is all I cangive you. At the end of that time I have an appointment in thecollege."

  "I have called to ask you a favour, sir," said Sooba, in his bestmanner.

  "You are the parent of one of my pupils?"

  "I am sorry to have to admit the fact that I have no son. It is aboutmy nephew, Pantulu Iyer's son, Ananda, that I have come. You engagedhim as a master a short time ago. He stayed only one day."

  "Ah! now I understand. I can't take him on the staff again, if that iswhat you have come to ask."

  "You are right, sir; it would be a mistake. He is unpopular in thetown."

  "We have no time to lose," said Dr. Wenaston, looking at his watch."Will you explain what you want me to do?"

  They were standing in the verandah facing each other. Sooba shuffledhis feet slightly. The action said much to the Englishman and put himon his guard.

  "Last night Ananda left his father's house and we don't know where heis."

  "Is there any reason why he should not leave Chirapore if he wishes todo so?"

  "It would be without his father's consent," said Sooba, boldly makinguse of his brother's name.

  Wenaston was slightly puzzled. Ananda's movements were not his affair.

  "What do you want me to do?" he again asked, with a touch of impatiencethis time.

  "I thought that perhaps you might give us some assistance in oursearch."

  The Englishman regarded him with surprise as he answered in quickdecisive tones.

  "I am afraid I cannot do anything of the kind. I am too busy to sparethe time. Besides, Ananda's movements really do not concern me or thecollege."

  "It was not my intention to ask you to leave your duties, sir."

  "Then how can I help in the search for the lost man? He has probablyleft the town, where as you yourself say he is unpopular. Under thecircumstances it is the best thing that he can do. Have you inquiredat the station if he were among the passengers who were travelling bythe mails last night?"

  "He can't have taken either of the trains, north or south, as he wasseen in his room after their departure."

  "Have you any suspicion where he can have gone?" asked Wenaston, tryingto get at what was at the back of his visitor's mind.

  There was a definite pause before the reply was given.

  "We have reason to think, sir, that Ananda is here."

  "Here!" repeated Wenaston, astounded and not altogether pleased. "Idon't understand what you mean; what grounds you have for saying so.Have you thoroughly searched his father's house?"

  "We have hunted everywhere."

  "And why do you think he is here?"

  Sooba was unable to explain fully; there were too many facts that hadto be suppressed. One was the physical inability of the unfortunateman to go far afield in his crippled condition. The college was theonly place within possible reach where the fugitive might have found arefuge. Sooba had no reliable information to go upon; he was acting ona suspicion arrived at by an exhaustive line of argument. It wasunlikely that Bopaul's people would offer an asylum; they wouldhesitate to do anything that might cause a breach between the twofamilies. Bopaul himself might befriend him--if he could see his wayto do it without giving offence. As for the rest of the town not asoul throughout would lift a finger to help an apostate to Hinduism, aman of broken caste who refused the restitution rites, an outlaw andoutcaste deprived of all civil rights.

  "You were so kind as to allow him to come here before, sir," said Soobasmoothly. "We thought that he would be sure to come to you again."

  "Then you are wrong," replied Wenaston brusquely.

  He did not like the manner of his visitor in spite of the carefuldeference put on with a little too much show, and he resented his tooready assumption that the college would, after all that had passedduring the temporary mastership, offer a shelter and again receive the'vert. It is due to Wenaston to say that he had no suspicion thatAnanda had been badly treated. Had it entered his head that there wasany possibility of his being injured by assault, he would have appealedto the higher authorities of the State who would undoubtedly haveinterfered to protect him. The verdict of outlawry was another matter.

  "How can I assure Pantulu Iyer that his son is not here, sir?" askedSooba in humble anxiety.

  "You have my word for it."

  "As far as your knowledge goes, sir, I would not for a moment doubt it.I venture to suggest that he may be in hiding on the premises withoutyour knowledge."

  The school-bell rang and Dr. Wenaston made a movement.

  "I must go; and as for you, search the place if you like, collegebuildings, house and compound. I am positive that you will not findhim. Look everywhere while you are about it, for you don't come here asecond time. You can go."

  Wenaston'a manner jarred; it was not what Sooba had anticipated. Hehad assured himself that the accusation of harbouring Ananda would havetroubled the Principal; and that he would have exhibited anxiety toclear himself of the charge and show that it was not true. Sooba'sexperience of the ways of Englishmen was extremely limited, and hefound that he was mistaken. To be treated in this contemptuous way wasgalling, and roused his spite. If the fugitive should happen to bediscovered on Wenaston's premises, he promised himself that he wouldmake it hot for the Englishman, and create a rupture between him andthe governing body of the college. At the command to go there wasnothing for it but to beat a retreat. He directed his steps towardsthe class rooms where he intended to begin his search.

  "Do you really mean to allow him to go through the house?" asked Eola,who had listened in silence to the conversation.

  "Certainly; Ramachetty!" The butler came at once at his master's call,so quickly that Eola smiled, in spite of her annoyance. The gist ofwhat Sooba had said had been overheard by others besides herself. "Oneof Pantulu Iyer's people----" he checked himself to ask a question--"Doyou know who he is?"

  "His brother, sir."

  "His brother, is he? He believes that his nephew Ananda is hiddensomewhere on the premises. I have given him permission to search everycorner of the class rooms and the house. You are to accompany him allthrough and show him the servants' go-downs and the stables and garage."

  "Is he to go through your rooms as well, sir?"

  "Yes; and Miss Wenaston's and Mrs. Hulver's." He returned to Eola,upon whose face was a most unusual frown. "I shall have something tosay to the Dewan about this visit."

  "It is outrageous; and you would be quite justified in refusing toallow him to enter a single room."

  "I don't like it any more than you do; but I think it politic toconsent. What he believes, he can make the boys believe. I wish toavoid a recurrence of the boycotting."

  "I shall go out for a drive," said Eola.

  "The best thing you can do," replied the harassed man heartily.

  Wenaston returned to his class room in the nearest approach to a ragethat was possible for a man with so even a temperament. Sooba tookcare to avoid further encounter; and before the Principal reached hisown lecture-room the search through that apartment had been completed.It offered no cover whatever with its bare ta
ble and desks. A runawayrat could not have hidden itself. As for a man or even a boy, thefirst glance round would have revealed him.

  The hunt through the college buildings lasted nearly an hour. A littleafter five Sooba presented himself, at the house. The butler waswaiting for him; but being a pariah he was not at all to the taste ofthe searcher. Sooba waived him aside with all the loathing andcontempt shown to a man of no caste. Ramachetty had received hisdirections, however, and did not budge. He begged to inform hisexcellency, the visitor, that he dared not disobey his master's orders;whether his honourable excellency liked it or not he must accompanyhim. After this there was nothing more to be said, and the searcherbegan his work, leaving the butler to follow at a respectful distance.

  It was with much curiosity that Sooba entered each room of theEnglishman's private dwelling. Never before had he been inside aEuropean's house. He peered under tables and chairs and looked behindcurtains. The piano puzzled him, and he was not satisfied tillRamachetty had removed the front and exposed the strange wired interiorthat gave shelter to nothing larger than a mouse or a scorpion. Eola'srooms were also examined and drawn blank. There remained only Mrs.Hulver's.

  "The housekeeper's rooms only are left for your honour's eye. Is ityour excellency's wish to see them also?" asked Ramachetty.

  "Decidedly; the master gave permission for me to search every corner."

  "The housekeeper will not like it."

  "Who cares what she likes or dislikes? She is his servant and mustobey his orders."

  The butler knew his position better than to smile. He cast down hiseyes demurely in case a twinkle of amusement should betray him.

  "Her son is with her. He is a soldier inclined to violence. Yourhonour must not be angry with this slave if the soldier fights."

  The inquisitive visitor hesitated. The British soldier in the presentday in India inherits a character that has been deeply impressed uponthe native mind by his predecessors. It is not a character forgentleness. But the hesitation did not last long; the spirit of pryinggained the day.

  "I am not afraid of a soldier. If he is violent his colonel will havehim punished," said Sooba, as he swaggered boldly up to the door ofMrs. Hulver's room.

  It stood open; apparently she had had notice of what she might expect,for he found himself confronted by the ample figure of the wrathfulwoman, who understood even better than her employers the great libertythat was being taken. She glared at him with as much fire as her greyeyes were capable of showing, and pretended not to know who he was norwhat he wanted.

  "Who are you, and what business have you got in my back verandah?" sheasked unceremoniously, making use of the vernacular in such terms asshe would have addressed one of the gardeners. "I've got nothing foryou."

  Sooba returned an angry glance. He understood the insult, but had nomeans of making her smart for it.

  "I have come by permission of the master of the house, the honourablePrincipal of the College, to look for a relative who is lost," hereplied, with as much dignity as he could muster to his aid.

  "Do you suppose I have him in my pocket?"

  "No, woman; but I have reason to believe that he is hiding somewhere onthese premises, and I will not leave until I have thoroughly searchedthem."

  "Search away, then, and be quick about it. See for yourself who ishere. I am not going to help you if you can't take my word for it."

  She turned her back on him and moved into the middle of the room. Ashe did not follow immediately she called impatiently over her shoulder.

  "Come along! Don't stand there all the evening. What are you waitingfor?"

  His eyes were fixed with some anxiety on the figure extended upon thebed and a woman close by who was preparing to make a fresh poultice.She held a kettle of hot water in her hand.

  "That's my son, William, a soldier on leave from Bangalore," remarkedMrs. Hulver, half turning to him again. "His father was a soldier andhe takes after him--short in the temper and strong in the arm. Youneed not be afraid of him. He's just recovering from a canteen fightin which he made a man bigger than himself--a regular giant--swallowall his front teeth; and they were his own, too."

  There was a ring of unconscious pride in the mother's voice as sheexaggerated her son's exploits.

  "I am not afraid of the soldier, woman," replied Sooba. "The lawprotects me from violence. What I object to is the presence of thatsweeper by his cot. She is a pariah and her presence is defiling toone of my caste."

  "Oh! is it? All the same she is my servant and she is there by myorders and there she will stay."

  The woman glanced at him with fear, and showed a disposition to abandonher work and retire in spite of "orders." Mrs. Hulver detected theweakness. She picked up the sweeper's broom that was lying near andpointed with it to the basin containing the bread.

  "You stay where you are till I give you leave to go. Pour the hotwater on to the bread. Wring out those cloths and get them ready forthe poultice. As soon as I've seen this man through my rooms I'll takethe beef off my son's eye and bandage it with wet rags."

  The visitor stepped gingerly into the room, sidling away from theuntouchable, and began to look round. Mrs. Hulver took no notice ofhim. Her attention was devoted to her son. She leaned over him,patting his pillow and touching the shawl in her solicitude for hiscomfort.

  "You lie quiet, William," she said in English, "and don't you mind thevisitor. You've got to get well in time to join your regiment at theend of your leave or there'll be more trouble. You must be patient.As William, your father, used to say: 'Time and patience will carry aman through the roughest day.'"

  She loosened the bandages slightly and removed a large slice of rawbeef which she contemplated with broad satisfaction as it lay on thepalm of her hand.

  "That's done its work and taken down the swelling. I wish it had takenout the colour as well. We'll see what cold water will do for younext, with a little vinegar added." She turned to the intruder andaddressed him in his own tongue, although he knew English better thanRamachetty the butler. "Well! why don't you get on with your hunt foryour lost cousin?"

  She drifted towards the door by which he had entered, carrying thebroom in one hand and the beef in the other. Disgust and horror werewritten on the face of the Hindu as he eyed the two loathsome objects,and he slipped further away moving up the room. Whether unconsciouslyor with deep design she had cut off his retreat completely, and therewas no chance of retiring if he wished to keep his distance from thetwo caste-contaminating objects.

  "I can't have you here all day," she cried, irritably. "Come! beginyour search. Go and look under that table."

  She flourished the broom in the direction of a table covered with acloth of gaudy colours where she sat to write the menus for themaster's dinner. He hesitated, his zeal had evaporated; and the objectof his domiciliary visit was almost lost sight of in the contemplationof the sweeper's broom and the flesh of the sacred cow.

  "Come! get on!" continued Mrs. Hulver, moving towards him. "I want toclear the room of strangers. It's not good for the sick man. My sonis not so bad but what he can get up if he chooses and turn you out.Go and look under his bed. That's your next place. Dearie me!" shesaid, lapsing into English again. "It seems as if this coolie expectedme to do his work! He began with impudence, but if he doesn't takecare he'll end with something else. As William--that was mythird--used to say: 'Dine on sauciness and you'll sup on sorrow.'"

  She took a step or two forward in the direction of her visitor. Heretreated, carefully gauging the distance between his own preciousperson and the various untouchable objects he had unwittinglyapproached. The information that the hero of the canteen fight wasable to rise from his bed if he chose and act the part of chucker-outwas not reassuring. He was allowed no time for reflection.

  "Go and look under the bed next. Lift the blanket that hangs down,"she said to the sweeper. "Let the gentleman see that we haven't gothis grandmother hidden un
der my son's bed."

  Again she flourished the broom, this time at the woman, and she waivedthe raw beef at the seeker.

  "Go on! Don't be afraid. William won't hurt you!"

  She advanced, and Sooba, more perturbed than he had been for many aday, avoided the bed and its attendant sweeper, and backed towards theopen door of the bedroom, the only available retreat afforded from thisawful person. She followed and the hunter became the hunted. Armedwith her terrible weapons she drove him from pillar to post, obliginghim to carry out his inquisition to its last detail, and look intoholes and corners with eyes that could see nothing but thatcaste-destroying broom and beef. After chasing him round the bedroomshe forced him to enter the bathroom, where, in his confusion, heknocked over the sweeper's basket; and she kept him there whilst sheexplained that the place contained cover for nothing larger than a frog.

  At last she let him go, and he beat an ignominious retreat, grazing hisshins in his haste against the furniture. He left the sitting-room ata run, closely followed by Mrs. Hulver; and as he passed out of thedoor the slab of raw meat that had relieved the warrior's wounds--flungby the hand of the outraged woman--caught him in the small of his back.The sweeper's broom, hurled after the beef, rattled on his nakedcalves, inadvertently exposed as, in a hurry, he gathered up hisflowing muslin cloth.

  William's shoulders shook. The sweeper woman hid her face in her clothand grinned, in fearful doubt lest she was committing blasphemy indaring to smile at one of the twice-born. As for Mrs. Hulver shedropped into her capacious cane chair and let herself go. She rockedin helpless laughter, and the lounge creaked in sympathy with hermovements.

  "That was a sight to make you feel better, sonnie!" she said, as soonas she could speak. "The man ran like a bandicoot with its tail cutoff! I wish you could have sat up and looked at him, the impudentbudmash! He won't forget his visit to the college in a hurry, or myname is not Maria Hulver! I'm glad I wasn't born to run away from abit of beef like that! He came in so proud and insolent, but he wentaway with a flea in his ear. As William, your father, used to say:'There are many who go out for wool but come back shorn.' Now we'llattend to this eye."

  She pulled herself together and rose from her chair. The poultice madeby the sweeper was thrown away, though it was still hot.

  "That was only to pass the time and keep her there, the finest bogie tofrighten my lord with that I could have found! I was glad to see thatyou could laugh with me, Bonnie. It shows you're mending."

  She busied herself over his wounds with soft tender touch.

  "Poor boy! Whichever side the victory lay you didn't get off withoutsome hard treatment; but we'll soon get you well."

  "How good you are to me--mother!" replied the invalid gratefully.

  "That's right. Don't you forget that I'm your mother. I would like toget your enemy on his bended knees and make him pray for forgivenessfor knocking you about like this--a man twice your age, too! Shame onhim! But, there! as William--that was my third--said when the sergeantlocked him up, thinking he was the worse for liquor when he wasn't:'Apologies make poor plaster.' The sergeant was a bit hasty and heknew William's ways and leanings. But he was wrong that time. Williamwasn't drunk; he was dazed with the sun; and the sergeant apologisedhandsomely."

  That evening Wenaston once more interviewed his housekeeper.

  "You showed the man who called this afternoon over your rooms, I hope,Mrs. Hulver?"

  "Yes, sir; I took him all round and let him see everything; he wasquite satisfied that the person he wanted wasn't here. He didn'tmention any names."

  "He was looking for his nephew, Ananda, the young man who has become aChristian. He has disappeared, and it was thought that he might havetaken refuge with us."

  "I don't know why he should do that when he has Mr. Alderbury to goto," remarked Mrs. Hulver indifferently.

  "If by any chance he should appear you must let me know at once."

  "Would you refuse to give him shelter?" asked Mrs. Hulver, looking atthe Doctor with some curiosity. As he did not reply at once shecontinued: "I should if I were you, sir, if you will excuse my speakingout. There's no telling how these natives might take it if youbefriended him in any way."

  "I shouldn't drive him away if he needed protection, Mrs. Hulver," saidWenaston. "You must understand that as a Christian he has my warmestsympathy; and that as far as I am able I will do what I can for him;but as I pointed out to you before, I am not a free agent in thismatter. If he asks for assistance I will give it by sending him off atonce to Mr. Alderbury, who is willing to help. What I must not do isto give him shelter in the college buildings or in the house, much as Imight wish. We have tried that experiment once and it was a completefailure. Therefore I ask you to come to me immediately if Mr. Anandashould present himself."

  "Very good, sir. I don't think he is likely to turn up after the waythose boys treated him. I'm sure I have my hands full enough withyoung William without bothering about Mr. Ananda's troubles. AsWilliam--that was my third--used to say: 'Keep your eyes on your ownroad and don't worry about the pitfalls of other people.' You maydepend upon me for doing the right thing and not decomposing either youor Miss Eola."