The Native Born; or, the Rajah's People Part 42

"They will dare," Nicholson answered. "So much I know for certain, and it will probably be to-night. I can vouch for my men, and we must do our best until help comes. But--" He paused rather significantly.

"But what, man? Don't you think it will come in time? I have already telegraphed. They will be here in twenty-four hours. Surely we can manage so long."

"Colonel, if you had seen what I saw last night, you would not count much on help. It isn't the rising of a few unarmed men. It is the revolt of a fanatic, warlike nation led by a man. They call him G.o.d.

His G.o.dhead does not matter to us. As a G.o.d we have no need to fear him; but as a man and a born leader of men, with hatred and revenge as an incentive, armed with unlimited power, he is an enemy not to be held at bay by a handful of Gurkhas and not to be conquered by a regiment."

His words had their quiet, fatal significance. Colonel Carmichael and Stafford looked at each other. Hitherto they had faced the situation coolly enough, with their eternal national optimism and self-confidence.

This man had wrenched down the veil, and they stood before a chasm to which there seemed no sh.o.r.e, no bottom. It was the end, and they knew it.

"You mean, then, that it is all over?" the Colonel said casually. "You know more than either of us. You ought to be able to tell."

"Yes, Colonel, I should judge that it was all over, unless a miracle happens."

"We might fight our way through."

"On my way early this morning the roads were already guarded. They did not recognize me, otherwise I should not be here."

"And the women?"

All three men had grown cool and indifferent. Death had stepped in, and from that moment it was not seemly to show either trouble or excitement.

"According to my idea, the women had better be lodged here in your bungalow," Nicholson said. "The surrounding walls make it a good place of defense. The barracks are too open."

The Colonel nodded. Quite unconsciously he was letting the reins of command slip into the younger and stronger hands.

"They must be brought over at once," he a.s.sented. "Thank Heaven most of them have gone to the hills. Mrs. Berry and that--that other woman had better not be told what's up. They will only make a fuss. My wife will understand--and Lois will be all right. We must get hold of Travers, if it is only for her sake. It would serve him right if we left him to his fate."

Stafford took a step forward.

"I have a suggestion to make, Colonel," he said.

Colonel Carmichael looked at him. Throughout the interview Stafford had acted and spoken like a man who is weighed down by a burden of terrible doubt and perplexity. He alone of the three men had shown the first sign of emotion, and emotion in the face of death was for the Colonel no better than fear. His face hardened.

"Well," he said, "what is it?"

"Rajah Nehal Singh is not a barbarian," Stafford began. "I believe he would listen to reason if one of us could get hold of him. He seems to have his country's welfare at heart, and if it was explained to what horrible bloodshed he was leading it--"

"There must be no cringing!" Colonel Carmichael interrupted sharply.

"It will not be a case of cringing. We could simply put the matter before him."

"There is something in what Stafford says," Nicholson agreed. "From what I know of the Rajah, he seems both reasonable and humane. He may have yielded to his father's importunities in a fit of anger, and is perhaps already wis.h.i.+ng himself well out of the mess. For the women's sake, Colonel, we ought to have a shot--and not all for the women's sake, either. Heaven knows what this business will cost England if it comes to a head!"

Colonel Carmichael bit his lip impatiently. He did not recognize his own motives of desiring a last hand-to-hand struggle. They were those of an old man who sees Cheltenham and stagnation looming in the distance and prays for death. But his common sense conquered the selfish promptings.

"Who would be likely to undertake the mission with any hope of success?" he asked.

"Nehal Singh and I were, toward the end, rather more than friendly,"

Nicholson began. "I believe he entertained a real liking for me--"

"If any one goes, I must!" The interruption came from Stafford. His head was raised. He faced the two men with a stern determination. "No, Nicholson; I know all you want to say. I have no sort of sympathy with the natives--I haven't your power over them. But this is different. I have a power. I may have. Let me go. If I fail, then you can try."

"By the time you have failed it will be too late," Nicholson returned.

He was watching Stafford with almost pitying curiosity. His keen instinct penetrated the man's strained and nervous bearing to some conflict which seemed to have had its birth with the first mention of Nehal Singh's name.

"It will not be too late," Stafford answered persistently. "I ask for an hour, Colonel. In an hour I shall know--whether--whether I have the power."

"Captain Stafford, are you mad!" the Colonel said sternly. "This is not a time for experiments."

"I ask for an hour," Stafford repeated, and there was an emphasis and earnestness in his voice which cut short Colonel Carmichael's angry sarcasm. "At the end of that time Nicholson can do what he likes. I am not mad. I beg of you to ask no questions. I can not answer them. I can only tell you that I have a great responsibility--toward you all and toward another."

Colonel Carmichael was silent for a moment. Stafford's manner awed and troubled him in spite of himself.

"Very well," he said at last. "I give you an hour. During that time we will make preparations for the worst." He took out his watch. "It is now eleven. At twelve the matter pa.s.ses into Nicholson's hands."

Stafford saluted.

"I understand, Colonel."

Nicholson accompanied him toward the door.

"G.o.d-speed!" he said simply. Stafford hesitated, his heavy eyes resting on the fine face of his brother-officer with an almost pa.s.sionate grat.i.tude.

"Thank you, Nicholson, thank you. G.o.d help me to do what is right!"

He turned and hurried from the room.

CHAPTER V

MURDER

Archibald Travers stood in his favorite att.i.tude by the window, his shoulder propped against the cas.e.m.e.nt, his arms folded, a smile of good-natured amus.e.m.e.nt on his healthy face.

"My dear child," he protested, "what earthly interest can it have for you to know the pros and cons of the business? You wouldn't understand, and that small head would ache for a week afterward. Be content with the outline of the thing. Of course it has all been frightfully unfortunate. But the Rajah wasn't to be held back. He believed the mine was going to be the making of Marut--and for a matter of fact so did I at first, otherwise I shouldn't have put all my money in it. The fellow had an enthusiasm and confidence which fairly carried us off our feet. Well, it's done, and it's no use crying about it. The best thing we can do is to clear out of Marut as fast as we can. People are bound to be disagreeable about it."

"The Carys are ruined too?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know--they have lost a bit, I suppose." His voice sounded unpleasant. "At any rate, I'll say that for them--they behaved as people of their extraction would behave. First the mother poured out a torrent of abuse over the poor Rajah which would have been the envy of a fish-wife, and then the daughter turned on me." He laughed. "It was a most powerful scene of feminine hysterics. I was glad that you were not there."

Lois sat silent, her head resting on her hand, her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the table.

"And what are we going to do?" she asked at last. "You take the matter so easily, but if we are really ruined--"

He laid his hand affectionately on her shoulder.