CHAPTER VIII.
MUSTAD.
The East Indian who stood before Jack Everson, thoroughly cowed andsubmissive, was unusually tall, dark, and thin to emaciation. He worea turban, a light linen jacket which encompassed his chest to below thewaist, with a sash or girdle, loose flapping trousers and sandals. Inthe girdle at his waist was a long, formidable knife or yataghan, whichhe would have been glad to bury in the heart of the man who had thusbrought him to his knees.
When Jack Everson demanded to know his identity the fellow replied in alow voice that was not lacking in a certain musical quality:
"Mustad!"
The young man half expected the answer.
"What business brings you here?"
"He is my master; I work for him. I have been to see my aged mother,who is very ill. I have just returned to serve my master."
"That is not true! You went away to bring some of your people to killthe doctor and his family."
"Sahib does Mustad great wrong," replied that individual in a grievedvoice. "I love my master and my mistress. I am not ungrateful. Iwould give my life sooner than harm a hair of their heads. Where havethey gone?"
It was the last question that removed all lingering doubt of thenative's treachery. He had returned to bring about their overthrow,but knew not where to look for them. When he could ascertain whitherthey had fled he and his brother miscreants would be at their heels.
"Suppose I should tell you that they had gone to Meerut or Delhi?"
"Allah be praised!" exclaimed the other devoutly; "for then they willbe safe."
"Is there no trouble in Meerut or Delhi?"
"What trouble can there be!" asked Mustad, with well-feignedsimplicity. "It is in those cities that the missionaries and many ofthe Inglese live. They have lived there many years. What harm couldbefall them?"
By this time Jack Everson had lost all doubt of the perfidy of the man.He could not fail to know what had taken place within the precedingtwenty-four hours in the cities named, and he lacked his usual cunningwhen he tried to deceive his questioner.
The young man saw that it was a waste of time to question Mustad. Noreliance could be placed on anything he said.
"You will wait here, then, until Dr. Marlowe comes back?"
Mustad vigorously nodded his head and replied:
"I shall wait, and my eyes will be filled with tears until I see thegood man and his child again. When will they come to their home?"
"Well, the best thing you can do is to wait here until you see themagain."
As Jack made this remark he took a quick step forward and picked up therevolver. He did not pause to examine it, but was sure that none ofthe chambers had been discharged. Slipping the weapon into his coatpocket, and still grasping his own, he said:
"I think I shall go out on the veranda and await the return of thedoctor."
As he made this remark he committed a mistake for which there was noexcuse. Instead of backing out of the room he turned about and startedthrough the open door into the hall. The walking cane against which hehad once struck his foot still lay where he had kicked it, and hetripped over it a second time. The mishap, slight as it was, saved hislife. As he stumbled in the gloom something whizzed like the rush of acobra's head past his temple, nipping his hat and striking the oppositewall with force enough to kill two or three men. It was the yataghanof Mustad, who had drawn and hurled it with inconceivable quickness andwith an aim so unerring that it would have brained the unsuspectingAmerican but for his fortunate stumble.
The furious Jack whirled around with the purpose of sending a bulletthrough the brain of the wretch, but something like a shadow flittedthrough the lamplight while Jack was in the act of turning and, beforehe could secure any aim, the scoundrel had vanished. Determined not tobe balked the young man let fly, and then, bounding across the room,snapped back the door, meaning to repeat the shot at the first glimpseof Mustad. But the latter was familiar with all the turnings of thehouse, while Jack knew nothing of that portion of the building. Hecould neither see nor hear anything, and did not deem it prudent to usethe lamp to help in the search, though it was hard to retire from thefield and leave the miscreant unpunished.
To do so, however, was the wiser course, and again he moved into thehall. This time he backed thither, though, since Mustad had no weapon,it was impossible that the attempt upon the young man's life should berepeated. The outer door was opened, and once more he stood on theveranda.
Before venturing across the lawn in the direction of the river he spenta minute or two in peering into the surrounding gloom and listening.He may have been mistaken, but he fancied he heard more than one personmoving stealthily about in the house. Once he was sure he caught thesound of whispered words, so that the astounding fact was establishedthat during the few minutes occupied in talking with Mustad he had afriend within instant call.
"All of which goes to prove that these people are cowards at heart,"was the sage conclusion of Jack Everson. "They will throw away theirlives for the sake of Islamism, and they will fight like wildcats if aman turns his back upon them; but when he stands face to face they arewhipped curs."
Since there was no doubt that Mustad and his companions would be on thealert to note the course taken by Everson, so as to learn what hadbecome of his friends, the young man saw the need of misleading them.He took care not to return to the river over his own trail. Instead ofdoing so he moved to the right, as if on his way to the nearby town ofAkwar. When satisfied he was beyond range of the keen vision of thosein the house of Dr. Marlowe he made an abrupt change, which led himtoward the Ganges, forgetting, when he did so, that there might benatives in the vicinity who were not in the building at all.
The Jungle Fugitives: A Tale of Life and Adventure in India Page 8
