The Hosts of the Lord Part 38

"I didn't ask," replied Dr. Dillon curtly; then, repenting him, added, "I suppose so. He will be here directly I expect. And--and we will all take care of you and Gladys, as long as we can. You know that; and we can't do more--can we?"

She smiled quite tenderly. "Of course you will. And I am really not a bit afraid--except of being in the way."

She seemed to accept the necessity of this; perhaps rightly. For the storm itself was no joke in these desert stretches, where the sand rose in choking clouds, yet left enough to make each step a toil. Muriel stumbled along breathlessly, but so slowly that, when her husband joined them, striding along with Gladys, still sleeping, wrapped in a blanket in his arms, the doctor bade them come at their leisure and wait until he gave the signal before entering, then ran on swiftly to the gaol. For there was no time to lose; though, on the other hand, there was very little to be done. The less the better, if his plan was to be successful; since that involved the utmost quiet, and the keeping of the prisoners from all knowledge of what was going on as long as possible.

As he faced the choking darkness, the hot blasts of causeless wind, blowing all ways at once, George Dillon reckoned up his chances fairly.

The storm would certainly make it easier to keep such knowledge from those within, and make it more difficult for those without to establish communication with the former. So far, good. On the other hand, no amount of the light at his command would enable him to see, even from his coign of vantage on the gateway roof, what was going on, either outside or inside. And darkness was the diggers' best friend; while digging was the recognized enemy of mud walls. Especially of those inside walls which divided the gaol into sections. Yet the best, the only chance of keeping the prisoners quiet, lay in preserving their segregation into companies.

For the gaol was of the cart-wheel pattern. That is, a huge circle of outside wall, thick as an earthwork, the felloes of the wheel, as it were. Then a small central cylinder of brick, like a lime kiln, the nave of the wheel, as it were. Between these two the spokes. Spokes of twelve feet high mud wall, dividing the whole into seven wedges of prison, absolutely distinct, blank, aperture-less, save for one heavily stanchioned door in the apex of each wedge, leading into the central tower. Exit or entry was therefore impossible to six of these wedges, except through the tower; that is the citadel, the key, as it were, of the gaol proper.

The seventh wedge, however, gave, at its wider end, on the entrance-gate, which was a square, semi-fortified building, pierced by a tunnel, gated at each end, and further protected by an outside yard, or roofless porch, also gated. The inmost of these three gates opened on to a small courtyard, and this narrowed again into an alley which gave access to the central tower. Briefly then the whole gaol consisted of six wedges opening, by a door in their narrow end, into the central cylinder; and a seventh wedge split in two by an alley leading between high mud walls from the gateway to that central tower; the key to the position.

In the two halves of the split wedge lay the warders' barracks, the solitary cells, the cook rooms, the hospital; and the entry to these was by a door on either side of the little courtyard, just beyond the inner gate. From the corner of this, also, rose the outside stair leading to the roof of the square, brick gateway.

Thus the fifteen hundred prisoners were broken up into companies of about two hundred each, and were absolutely without possibility of communication so long as the central tower was in the hands of authority. Unless there was time to undermine the mud walls, and tools, also, wherewith to work. Of these, however, there were none in the gaol. Nothing, even, that could be used to take their place, except in that seventh section which held the executive of the gaol; and there Dr. Dillon meant to leave no hands to use them, if he could compa.s.s it.

As he pulled up to regain his breath before walking up to the gate and giving the countersign, the whole place lay quiet and dark. So far, good. There was the risk, however, of the plot being known, and of the sentry refusing him entrance. It was not, however, and the next moment, calmly as if he was merely on one of his not infrequent rounds of unexpected night inspections, Dr. Dillon pa.s.sed from the outer porch to the tunnel, and told the sentry at the inner gate to light the lamp in the little office room to one side.

"Call the superintendent," he said to the first man, "and you can tell him I am going to inspect the solitary cells."

He added this because he knew it would give time, since the superintendent would be sure to give a private look round, first, to see all was in order, and remove possible traces of tobacco or opium,--those luxuries out of which so much money can be made by gaol officials.

No sooner, however, had the first sentry gone through the door to the left section, than he sent the second one on a similar message to the right, where the hospital lay. Then, the coast being clear, he rapidly unlocked the private safe in the office which held his set of keys in case of accidents, and locked both the right and left doors. Secure for a moment, therefore, from interruption, he ran outside, saw that the tool rooms, etc., were closed, gave the signal to Eugene Smith, hurried the refugees up the stairs; and then, after unlocking the two doors again on his way back to the office, sat down in his usual chair and began to look over a register.

He was engaged in this calm occupation when, a minute or two after, the native superintendent--a big, dignified person, in a blatant undress due largely to his bulk--arrived breathless.

"_Darogah-jee!_" began Dr. Dillon, instantly, and the mere tone of the t.i.tle made the man quiver, "I've had constantly to complain of the tobacco and opium smuggling that is going on among the warders, and I mean to stop it. I've had information to-night which will clinch the business. So take the night guard, rouse every warder, bring everyone here, even those on guard in the sections--the hospital orderlies--everyone, in fact, who is free to go out of the gaol. They are to come at once. No time allowed for arrangements. If they are not all here in five minutes I shall think you are in league with the smugglers."

The _darogah's_ fat flesh shook, yet he winked as he went off. If the doctor-_sahib_ expected to find anything in this fas.h.i.+on except, maybe, a smell of the forbidden drugs, he was mistaken. On such a night, too, when the dust was in everyone's eyes. Well! it might have been worse; for, though he knew nothing definitely of any plot, he could not fail to know that there was more to excite men in the gaol, that night, than tobacco or opium! So he went about his summons with a sigh of relief, and before the five minutes were over had his posse of minor officials together, including a file of unfettered prisoners, with good conduct badges, who were used as gang leaders. He himself finally coming down the alley, with a stupendous bunch of keys, followed by the little group of night warders he had collected from the other sections.

"All here?" asked Dr. Dillon, lighting a cigar. "The register, please, _darogah_. They will answer to their names, pa.s.s out through the wicket into the porch, and stay there until I've tallied the lot. I'm going to have it _pakka_[11] this time."

Some of the men grinned, some looked uneasy, and some few frowned; but all obeyed, though they cuddled themselves into their blankets as they slipped through the wicket, and faced the whirling, swirling storm in the open porch, the doors of which were barred, not solid.

"Kishen Rao?" came Dr. Dillon's voice, after a long series of names, followed by brief "_presents!_" and swift exits. There was no answer.

He turned to the _darogah_ for explanation.

"Absent!" explained the latter, timorously.

A little more decision might have saved him the quick question, "With or without leave?"

"_Huzoor_" palpitated the fat man, "he went out to bathe in the Holy Pool by permission this morning. He is of the utmost sobriety. A Brahmin, promoted by your Honour to, as your Honour knows, general head ward-keeper. He is not to be suspected."

"Leave till 5 P.M.," commented the doctor, looking over the register.

"Mark him down absent without leave. Go on."

So, rapidly, the last man ducked under the wicket.

"Is that the lot?"

"Everyone, Protector of the Poor," protested the burly official, with smiles. "The prison is empty of the unfettered."

"Then let it remain so for the present," said Dr. Dillon, coolly, as he stepped forward, closed the wicket, slid the bolt to its place, and turned on the _darogah_, all in one swift sequence.

"Now, then!" he went on sharply, "you and I have to settle a bit of business. Your keys--" he took out a revolver, and laid it on the table beside him--"every key you have; duplicates, triplicates, everything!

I'm going to keep this gaol myself for a bit. Do you understand?"

"_Huzoor!_" bleated the man, helplessly, putting his big bunch on the table.

Dr. Dillon smiled sarcastically. "Won't do, my friend. I want the lot by the list. Where's the register?"

When it came he ticked them off rapidly by it. "Sections B and C, warder's duplicate; where's that?" he asked.

The official grew green. "Kishen Rao--" he began--"but he is of the utmost--"

Dr. Dillon turned on him like lightning. "You're a d.a.m.ned scoundrel, sir! What else is missing?" He ran over the rest swiftly, then looked up suddenly with a scowl that made the man literally collapse. "So that's it, is it? Duplicate of B and C sections missing, and duplicate of the alley doors. A pretty little game!" he laughed sardonically.

"Kishen Rao--" gurgled the _darogah_--"by your Honour's promotion--of the utmost--"

"But it won't play, my friend; it won't play!" went on the doctor, with a curious elation. "I hold the thirteenth trump, now. You go in there,"--he pointed to an inner store-room behind the slip of an office; a windowless place, pitch dark, where the clothes in which the prisoners arrived awaited their release in piles--"and thank your stars you're in such good quarters."

All but that brief order, "You go in there," was spoken in English, as a sort of outlet for the intense satisfaction which was filling him at his own success,--_so far_.

The next minute he had turned the key on the _darogah_, and was up the stairs calling Eugene Smith in a low voice to come down and help to bolt and bar; but to come as quietly as he could.

"I've got rid of the lot," he said joyously, after he had explained the position in a few rapid words; "there isn't a soul in this section except the solitary cellers--who, of course, are ironed--a few sick people, and the a.s.sistant surgeon; but _baboo-jee_ is an agnostic, and is so confoundedly afraid of the possibility of a future life that he may be trusted to go into green collapse if he hears a shot fired."

So, rapidly, the two men set to work, undisturbed by more than a protesting "_Huzoor_, what shall we do?" from the posse outside the first gate, and a low knocking at the wicket.

There were double doors here, however, and of the sort which it would need time to negotiate, without powder.

"They will hold out for an hour, at least," said the doctor; "then there will be the inner one, and after that the alley door--unless--"

he remembered Kishen Rao, and frowned. That was the only weak spot in his armour. "We can count on an hour and a half, at least," he continued, carefully allowing for the worst; "longer, perhaps. Now then, Smith, for the toughest job! I've got a couple of crowbars here.

Those first six steps--eight if we can--of the stairs must come down.

There aren't enough of us to hold them."

So, for fully a quarter of an hour, no sound was heard above the curious vibration of the storm except the grinding and crus.h.i.+ng of the bricks as they were rapidly eased out, one by one, from the mud mortar.

The light of one of the office lamps, set on the ground, showed by that time a sheer drop of eight or ten feet, and Eugene Smith, working above, jammed his crowbar into a crevice of the wall against which the steps clung like a swallow's nest, and gave Dr. Dillon, who had been working below, a rope and a hand up.

The latter set down the keys and the lamp he had brought up with him, and deliberately dusted the knees of his trousers.

"There, that's done," he said. "Couldn't be better."

"Yes, it seems pretty safe," a.s.sented Eugene Smith, a trifle dubiously.

"Safe!" echoed the doctor, enthusiastically, "I haven't felt so safe for the last fortnight. Hullo! what's that?"

That was a sudden bugle-call. The doctor's face fell. "What, already! I didn't expect relief so soon. However, it can't be helped. I'll just go up and tell Dering what I've done, so that he may be prepared for the locked out ones!"