Caravans By Night Part 37

2

During the next two days Trent lost cognizance of time. He warred against elemental forces, armed with the crudest of weapons. Queer, unfolding moments came to him, bringing a potent consciousness of conflict that took him back to nights of tragedy and smoky turmoil--a sense of blood in throat and nostrils that soldiers know.

The girl wavered on the border of delirium. In her weakness she pleaded for false stimulation, and there were times when he was tempted, for her sake, to take the easiest course. Yet he knew that to surrender would slay the tissues of resistance that he had struggled so steadfastly to build, and he forced himself to consider only a lasting relief, suffering himself an anguish as keen as the physical and experiencing self-loathing when he performed those intimacies that were demanded of him.

He had fought death where the harvest was ghastly, perhaps had grown a little calloused, as men will when in close and constant contact with human ills, yet always, even in the case of the meanest Hindu coolie, he felt a responsibility that challenged his sparring instincts. It was as though he guarded some terrible frontier.... But nothing had ever so drawn upon him and consumed his every unit of nerve and energy as this.

He felt wholly accountable for her condition, here in this remote spot.

Her pain was his own, a part of him, feeding upon his vitality. He gave willingly, seeming in moments when she was drawn close to the Door to infuse into her the power to fight as he, a strong man, could fight--physically and spiritually. He was lifting her, but sinking himself as he lifted. There were periods when thought and action were no longer submissive to will; his brain felt atrophied and he was sentient only to utter exhaustion. He seemed incapable of stemming the rush of things beyond his dominion--was an atom in the path of a blinding and inexorable force. The values of human remedies and sciences dwindled in his sight. He was drained. Yet a vitalizing power, some inner dynamo, never failed to energize him. He attended to every detail himself, allowing Masein and the Marus only to take turns with a palmleaf at the bedside.... It was, after he had exhausted medical means, a grapple in the dark with foes that were neither tangible nor corporeal; when it was over he did not understand nor try to fathom the miracle that was wrought.

At dusk of the third day her temperature was almost normal and she was sleeping quietly. Trent, his face haggard, left the Lisu fanning her and lurched rather than walked to the river. He shed his clothing and lay for some time in the shallow water, his head pillowed upon one bent arm, tasting of absolute relaxation.

When he returned to the tent Dana Charteris was awake. Her hair lay in red-gold confusion about her white face--a pool of glowing shades and lights. She smiled faintly as he entered and he took the palmleaf from Masein, motioning him to leave. She spoke.

"I think we've won."

By that he knew they had. A surge of relief swept up through him. It was like a new and strange delirium; it unseated his control. He sank upon his knees, and his lips touched one cool, moist hand. The fingers of her other hand ran lightly through his hair.

"O Arnold Trent, how you fought!" she breathed tremulously. "And all the while you were wondering, wondering why I was there that night--why I--"

"Hush," he remonstrated, lifting his head, again in command of himself.

"It isn't finished yet. You must promise not to speak of that--not until I ask you. Now go to sleep. That is the quickest way you can get well."

"I promise," she said weakly, tears trembling in her eyes, "if you will rest, too. Will you? You need to be strong--strong--so you can help me."

She closed her eyes; sighed. Her hand slipped from his clasp.

He spread a blanket on the sand in front of the tent; spread it, and lay down; and almost instantly sleep declared itself the emperor of his being.

3

The convalescence of Dana Charteris was short. A break in the rains had more than a little to do with her recovery, for the suns.h.i.+ne was a golden elixir that aroused the stricken forces of her body, was a warmth that wiped away the fever-stains and ripened a faint color in her cheeks.

Once Trent offered to read to her. She begged him instead to tell her of those tiger-hunts with his father. That seemed to touch a spring that opened secret vaults of his nature. There was color and feeling in his telling. He spoke in the abstract. She could smell the beast, flanks aquiver, and wet, monsoon jungles in his sentences--sentences that abounded with the metaphors that he liked to use.... India lived in her while he talked--India, her wildernesses and her cities, her heart-break and her treachery. Too, he taught her a few Hindustani words and phrases.

But his contributions did not alone make those hours rare. Her gifts were as precious as pearls. Gossamer dawns when the sun's sabers smote the lingering darkness and sent it reeling, when life seemed at its ripest; the languor of purple nights, campfires glowing in the dusk--all these were but vessels for the exquisite revelation of her.

Yet under their talk was a strain that never relaxed. In the main part, they spoke guardedly. The man never ceased to wonder what the consequences of the delay would be, and it concerned him more than a little what Sarojini Nanjee might do if she learned through Masein of an alien presence in the caravan; while the girl, realizing she was holding him back, yet dreading the time when he p.r.o.nounced her entirely recovered, was in a constant state of chaos.

The fourth day after she pa.s.sed the danger mark brought to a climax their play-acting. The sun, like a red-lacquered ball, was rolling toward the hills, shying little bronze disks at the river, and Dana Charteris was seated on a blanket in front of the tent. Trent went to his kit-bag to get a fresh supply of tobacco, and the gold bracelet slipped out. She smiled--a frightened smile. She broke the tension by saying:

"There's no use to pretend any longer. I can't endure it. I'm delaying you. I am strong enough to--to--" She stopped; began anew. "Oh, you've been fighting against it! You're afraid for me to speak, afraid--" Again she halted, groping for words.

He had picked up the bracelet. She caught his hand.

"Sit down, won't you?"

He sank beside her. But his eyes were upon the heavily-chased circlet of gold.

"You've been so kind!" she breathed. "And all along, when you realized I had been deceiving you, you tried to tell yourself it wasn't true; that there might be two bracelets like that, and that it wasn't I who wore it at Gaya that night. But there's probably not another bracelet like that in India. My brother bought it for me in Delhi. It _was_ I who wore it at Gaya--who spoke to you on the road--who eavesdropped--who tried to cheat you--who ran away, like a coward, when it became known that Captain Manlove had been--been killed!"

Strained silence followed, the girl eagerly watching his face for some expression either of encouragement or condemnation, the man staring at the bracelet in his hands. She forced herself to go on.

"There's so much to tell that.... Well, I'll start at the very beginning, when my brother sent for me to come to India--"

Followed a recital of the meeting in Delhi and of her brother's story of the jewels of Indore.

"That night some one entered Alan's room and stole the imitation Pearl Scarf," she continued. "Alan was hurt--stabbed. Later I found the thief's turban and, inside, a sc.r.a.p of paper with foreign writing upon it. When I showed it to Alan, he said it was Urdu. Translated, it read something like this: 'His name is Major Arnold Trent, of Gaya.'"

Trent lifted his eyes questioningly, and she nodded.

"Yes, your name and address. That was all.... Alan was of the opinion that the package Chavigny carried into the bazaar at Indore contained the _real_ Pearl Scarf, and that instead of the copy he s.n.a.t.c.hed that.

By some means, he believed, it was traced to him--and stolen--whether by Chavigny or another he could only guess.

"I had an inspiration." She smiled slightly. "You will think me foolish--yet--yet you seemed to understand on the _Manchester_ when I told you of the 'Caves of Kor' and the pirate island. I saw the doors of my adventure opening. Too, I wanted to help Alan. I suggested that I might learn something if I went to Gaya; Alan couldn't because of his hurt. He wouldn't hear of it at first, but I finally persuaded him--and went to Gaya, intending to go no further, not realizing--"

She broke off abruptly, shrugged.

"The afternoon I reached Gaya I hunted up your bungalow, merely to get the location. That was the time I met you on the road. I'm a poor adventurer, for that encounter frightened me dreadfully--and by the way you looked at that"--indicating the bracelet--"I knew you'd recognize it if you saw it again. That night I returned--and--" She paused, quite evidently confused. "You'll surely think I--I--"

"Go on," he said laconically.

She averted her face, a flush upon her cheeks.

"I listened outside a window and heard you tell Captain Manlove of your orders from Delhi and that you were going to Benares. After that I hurried away. As I was leaving the compound Captain Manlove came to the door. I went back to the Dak Bungalow and sat down and thought. Oh, I thought a long while. Then I rode to the telegraph office and sent a message to Alan, saying I was leaving for Benares. While I was there an officer came in and I heard him tell the clerk that Captain Manlove had been found"--she hesitated--"dead."

The muscles of Trent's jaw tightened visibly as she p.r.o.nounced the word.

Otherwise he was expressionless, still staring at the bracelet. Why didn't he move or say something, she wondered? It was maddening, the way he kept silence!

"The picture of Captain Manlove," she resumed, "as I last saw him in the doorway haunted me. I thought of a hundred things that might happen if it were learned that I had gone to your bungalow just before--before his death. So"--there was a bitter note in her voice--"so I left within two hours, buying a ticket to Mughal Sarai instead of to Benares."

For the first time he asked a question; but he did not raise his eyes.

"You took the coral pendant from my room--there at Benares?"

She nodded. "That piece of coral! It caused me hours of anxiety! The afternoon you arrived I saw it in your hands while you were sitting on the portico. It rather fired my imagination, although I didn't know its significance then. After dinner, when you left the hotel, I tried to follow, but I became hopelessly lost. I had a frightful time finding my way back to the hotel. But I wasn't to be cheated; intrigue was burning in me that night. I borrowed a skeleton key and sent my servant--a man I had hired--to search your room and bring me the piece of coral. Of course, when I found that it opened and that Chavigny's alias was engraved inside, I knew I had a valuable clue. But my servant wasn't able to return it, for when he went back there was a light in your room.... I was in a dilemma. I didn't know what to do."

"But why did you send him to my room in the first place--or follow me to Benares?" he interrupted quietly. "Surely you knew I was on a Government mission and that--I sha'n't mince words--that you were interfering with affairs that didn't concern you."

"Yes, I realize that," she confessed. "Oh, I admit I was wrong--but I had entered the 'Caves of Kor' and the lure of them drew me on."

"I don't mean to be unkind," he broke in, relenting. "I--"

"You are simply telling the truth," she supplied. "I _shouldn't_ have done it, but I deluded myself into believing I might recover the Pearl Scarf and help Alan. I was selfish enough to want him to achieve at the cost of another's failure. That was why I went on to Calcutta. I had no idea where you were going, that next morning at Benares; that is, until I saw a porter take your trunk from your room. Then I sent my servant to find out where it was bound, and--I packed quickly and followed."

"Then you tracked me to the Chinese quarter there, instead of--" He did not finish.