CHAPTER SEVEN.
A SURPRISE.
Herbert Raynier ran lightly up the steps of his verandah, feelingintensely satisfied with himself and things in general.
Though summer, the air was delightfully balmy, and the glow of thesunset reddening the heads of the mountains surrounding the basin inwhich lay Mazaran, was soothing and grateful to the eye. The bungalowwas roomy and commodious, and stood in the midst of a pleasant garden,where closing flowers distilled fragrant scents upon the evening air--all this sent his mind back in thankful contrast to hot, steaming,languid Baghnagar, its brassy skies and feverish exhalations, where evenat this late hour the very crows lining the roof would be open-billedand gasping. And thus contrasting the new with the old order of thingshe decided for the fiftieth time that the luckiest moment of his lifewas when he opened the official letter--which met him on landing atBombay--appointing him Political Agent at Mazaran.
Hardly less in contrast between the climate of his new station and thelast, were the people with whom he now had to deal. There was nothingwhatever in common between the meek subservient native he had hithertoruled and the stalwart independence of these wild mountain tribes, whoseturbulent and predatory instincts needed nice handling to keep inefficient control. But all this appealed to him vividly, and he threwhimself into his new duties with an eager zest which caused those whohad known his predecessor to smile. He recognised that here at leastwas a chance; here he might find scope for such latent ability which thestagnant routine of his old Department had been in danger of stiflingaltogether. In fact, he was inclined to regret the abnormally tranquilstate of things, when Jelson, his predecessor, had congratulated himupon the fact that Mushim Khan, the chief of the powerful, and oftenturbulent, Gularzai tribe, had become so amenable since the Governmenthad created him a Nawab that the meanest _bunniah_ might almost walkthrough the Gularzai country alone and with his pockets bulging withrupees, in perfect safety.
Herbert Raynier flung himself into a comfortable chair on the verandahand lighted a cheroot. He had half an hour to spare before it should betime to dress and go out to dinner, and how should such be better spentthan in a restful smoke: yet, while enjoying this, his thoughts wereactive enough. His prospects, rosy as the afterglow which dwelt uponthe surrounding peaks, kept him busy for a time, and over all was asense of great relief. If he had saved the life of an unknown Orientalat the hands of a particularly brutal mob, assuredly he had been repaidto the full, for, but for that circumstance, matters would never havecome to a head with Cynthia. He would still be bound hard and fast by achain of which he only realised the full weight since he had broken it.For he had broken it--finally, irrevocably, unmistakably, he toldhimself. Since that last scene in the Vicarage garden he and Cynthiahad exchanged no word. The remainder of that day had not been of apleasant nature, and he had left by an early train on the followingmorning, to return three days later to India. No letter, either offarewell, or reproach or recrimination--as he had half feared--reachedhim at the last, and it was with feelings of genuine relief that hewatched the shores of the mother country fade into the invisible.
Tarleton, the Civil Surgeon, at whose bungalow Raynier was dining, wassomewhat of a trying social unit, in that he was never even by chanceknown to agree with any remark or proposition, weighty or trivial, putforward by anybody, or if there was no conceivable room for gainsayingsuch, why then he would append some brisk aggressive comment in riderfashion. As thus,--
"How do, Raynier? How did you come over? Didn't walk, did you?"
"No. Biked."
"Ho! Bicycle's not much use up here, I can tell you."
Raynier remarked that he found the machine useful for getting about thestation with, and that the roads in and immediately around the same wererather good.
"Well, you didn't expect to find them all rocks and stones, did you?"came the prompt rejoinder.
Tarleton was white-haired and red-faced, which caused him to look olderthan his actual years. Another of his peculiarities was that he wascontinually altering his facial appearance. Now he would grow a beard;then suddenly, without a word to anybody, would trim it down to whatthey call in Transatlantic a "chin-whisker," or shave it altogether.Or, one day he would appear with a long, carefully-waxed moustache, andthe next with that appendage clipped to the consistency of a toothbrush.And so on.
Just at this stage, however, Raynier, recognising that he was on thehigh road to cordially detesting the man, had laid himself out to beextra long-suffering.
"Wonder if those women ever mean to come in?" went on Tarleton, with afidgety glance at the clock, for the two were alone in the drawing-roomjust before dinner.
"Oh, one has to give the ornamental sex a little `law,'" said the other,good-humouredly.
"Well, you can't expect them to put on their clothes and all that asquickly as we can," was the rejoinder to this accommodating speech. Andjust then "those women," in the shape of Mrs Tarleton and a guest,entered. The first was a good-humoured, pleasant-looking littleIrishwoman, the second--
"How d'you do, Miss Clive? Why, this is a surprise," began Raynier,without waiting for an introduction.
"I like surprises," laughed the hostess. "They're great fun. Wethought we'd give you one, Mr Raynier."
"They are, if, as now, they are pleasant ones," he answered.
"Why, Mr Raynier, I didn't think that kind of speech-making was at allin your line," said the "Surprise," demurely.
She was a tallish girl, rather slight, with refined and regularfeatures, which nineteen out of twenty pronounced "cold." She had agreat deal of dark brown hair, and very uncommon eyes; in fact, theywere unequivocally and unmistakably green. Yet framed in their dark,abundant lashes, they might be capable of throwing as complete anattraction, a fascination, as the more regulation blue or hazel ones.She was not popular with men. Not enough "go" in her, they declared.Seemed more cut out for a blue-stocking.
She and Raynier had been fellow-passengers out; but had had little tosay to each other on board. He had danced with her three or four times,which was rather remarkable in view of that being a form of exercisewhich he favoured but little. Both had this in common, that they heldaloof from the usual 'board-ship amusements, yet they had not cometogether at all. It was only when they landed at Bombay, and thefriends she had expected to meet her had not arrived, that Raynier,noticing the look of intense consternation, of bewilderment even, uponthe girl's face, as she realised how she was stranded, a total strangerin a very strange land, had come to the rescue--had even foregone histrain and remained over until the next day to be of service to her.This he had done out of sheer kindness--the other passengers having gonetheir respective ways without giving her a thought--and having handedher over to her friends who had been unavoidably delayed, had bidden hergood-bye and had gone his own--he, too, scarcely giving her anotherthought.
"Hilda says you were so kind to her at Bombay, Mr Raynier," went on hishostess.
"Oh, no--that's nothing, Mrs Tarleton. Glad to have been of anyservice, of course," he replied, in that hurried, half-confused way tobe expected of a man of his disposition under the circumstances.
"But it isn't nothing," struck in the girl, decidedly. "Do you know,Mrs Tarleton, Mr Raynier even waited till the next day to look after me.And it's odd, because we hardly knew each other on the ship."
"Oh, well," mumbled Raynier, jerkily, "you can't see anybody strandedlike that--a lady especially--in a totally strange place without doingsomething to straighten things out for them."
Hilda Clive smiled.
"None of the others seemed to be of that opinion, at any rate," shesaid.
Snapped Tarleton, "Well, you can't expect a lot of people just landedfrom a voyage to think about anything but themselves and their ownbelongings."
For once Raynier felt frankly grateful to the contentious one--if onlythat it was sufficient for Tarleton to lay down a statement on any givensubject to cause his ordinary hearers to drop that subjec
t like ared-hot bar. Wherefore these promptly turned to another.
Sunt Singh and Kaur Singh, chuprassis, were aroused from the drowsyenjoyment of their hubble-bubbles by a very unwonted intruder in thePolitical Agent's compound late at night, and were well-nigh speechlesswith supercilious amazement. The fat trader they had left on the road!See the _Huzoor_! At that time of night! It was the Police Station thefool wanted. Something of the highest importance? Let him come in themorning. It would keep until then. Besides, the _Huzoor_ was outdining.
In a direful state of fear and perplexity Chand Lall, thus rebuffed, gotout into the road again, and with a scared look over each shoulder, tookhis way as quickly as he could from the gate. But this was not quick,for even in the darkness it might have been seen that he walked with apainful limp. In the darkness too, something else might have beenseen--two figures stealing along in the deeper shade of the tamariskhedge. He whom they shadowed saw them not--at first--then having chosentheir spot, they quickened their pace, and darting forward flungthemselves upon him.
The yell which the assailed man opened his mouth to utter died in histhroat as the white light of a long knife blade streaked before hiseyes.
"Silence or thou art dead," snarled a harsh voice. "So, dog, thouwouldst betray us?"
In the dirty-white turbans and hairy, hook-nosed faces, Chand Lall knewonly too well who were these. Already they had begun to drag himswiftly along. Then in his frenzy of terror at the recollection of thefate he had escaped from and which certainly waited him now, even thefear of instant death did not avail. A loud, quavering shriek for aidrang from his lips.
But it died in a choking gasp. The white knife blade disappeared, toemerge again red--and this not once only. A corpse lay wallowing in theroad, and two loosely-clad figures vanished into the darkness, even asthey had come out of it.
The Sirdar's Oath: A Tale of the North-West Frontier Page 7
