The Sirdar's Oath Part 6

"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 older than his actual years. Another of his peculiarities was that he was continually altering his facial appearance. Now he would grow a beard; then suddenly, without a word to anybody, would trim it down to what they call in Transatlantic a "chin-whisker," or shave it altogether.

Or, one day he would appear with a long, carefully-waxed moustache, and the 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 the high road to cordially detesting the man, had laid himself out to be extra long-suffering.

"Wonder if those women ever mean to come in?" went on Tarleton, with a fidgety glance at the clock, for the two were alone in the drawing-room just before dinner.

"Oh, one has to give the ornamental s.e.x a little 'law,'" said the other, good-humouredly.

"Well, you can't expect them to put on their clothes and all that as quickly as we can," was the rejoinder to this accommodating speech. And just then "those women," in the shape of Mrs Tarleton and a guest, entered. The first was a good-humoured, pleasant-looking little Irishwoman, 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. We thought 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 all in your line," said the "Surprise," demurely.

She was a tallish girl, rather slight, with refined and regular features, which nineteen out of twenty p.r.o.nounced "cold." She had a great deal of dark brown hair, and very uncommon eyes; in fact, they were unequivocally and unmistakably green. Yet framed in their dark, abundant lashes, they might be capable of throwing as complete an attraction, 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-pa.s.sengers out; but had had little to say 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 exercise which he favoured but little. Both had this in common, that they held aloof from the usual 'board-s.h.i.+p amus.e.m.e.nts, yet they had not come together at all. It was only when they landed at Bombay, and the friends she had expected to meet her had not arrived, that Raynier, noticing the look of intense consternation, of bewilderment even, upon the girl's face, as she realised how she was stranded, a total stranger in a very strange land, had come to the rescue--had even foregone his train and remained over until the next day to be of service to her.

This he had done out of sheer kindness--the other pa.s.sengers having gone their respective ways without giving her a thought--and having handed her over to her friends who had been unavoidably delayed, had bidden her good-bye and had gone his own--he, too, scarcely giving her another thought.

"Hilda says you were so kind to her at Bombay, Mr Raynier," went on his hostess.

"Oh, no--that's nothing, Mrs Tarleton. Glad to have been of any service, of course," he replied, in that hurried, half-confused way to be expected of a man of his disposition under the circ.u.mstances.

"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 s.h.i.+p."

"Oh, well," mumbled Raynier, jerkily, "you can't see anybody stranded like that--a lady especially--in a totally strange place without doing something to straighten things out for them."

Hilda Clive smiled.

"None of the others seemed to be of that opinion, at any rate," she said.

Snapped Tarleton, "Well, you can't expect a lot of people just landed from a voyage to think about anything but themselves and their own belongings."

For once Raynier felt frankly grateful to the contentious one--if only that it was sufficient for Tarleton to lay down a statement on any given subject to cause his ordinary hearers to drop that subject like a red-hot bar. Wherefore these promptly turned to another.

Sunt Singh and Kaur Singh, chupra.s.sis, were aroused from the drowsy enjoyment of their hubble-bubbles by a very unwonted intruder in the Political Agent's compound late at night, and were well-nigh speechless with supercilious amazement. The fat trader they had left on the road!

See the _Huzoor_! At that time of night! It was the Police Station the fool wanted. Something of the highest importance? Let him come in the morning. It would keep until then. Besides, the _Huzoor_ was out dining.

In a direful state of fear and perplexity Chand Lall, thus rebuffed, got out into the road again, and with a scared look over each shoulder, took his 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 a painful limp. In the darkness too, something else might have been seen--two figures stealing along in the deeper shade of the tamarisk hedge. He whom they shadowed saw them not--at first--then having chosen their spot, they quickened their pace, and darting forward flung themselves upon him.

The yell which the a.s.sailed man opened his mouth to utter died in his throat as the white light of a long knife blade streaked before his eyes.

"Silence or thou art dead," snarled a harsh voice. "So, dog, thou wouldst betray us?"

In the dirty-white turbans and hairy, hook-nosed faces, Chand Lall knew only too well who were these. Already they had begun to drag him swiftly along. Then in his frenzy of terror at the recollection of the fate he had escaped from and which certainly waited him now, even the fear of instant death did not avail. A loud, quavering shriek for aid rang from his lips.

But it died in a choking gasp. The white knife blade disappeared, to emerge again red--and this not once only. A corpse lay wallowing in the road, and two loosely-clad figures vanished into the darkness, even as they had come out of it.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE MARK OF MURAD AFZUL.

Raynier was wondering over several things. He was wondering how anyone living could stand Tarleton for life--as his wife did; how anyone could stand him for a week, or two or three--as his guest was doing; or for two or three hours--as he himself was trying to do. Then, constantly observing Hilda Clive--opposite him, for they were a party of four--he was wondering how it was that she had held out so little attraction to him hitherto. For nearly three weeks they had been pent up together in the close proximity of s.h.i.+pboard--yet he had hardly been aware of her existence. While he was looking after her at Bombay, she had seemed more attractive, but not much. Yet now, meeting her again and unexpectedly, he was conscious of this or that subtle trait which interested him.

Still, why had he not discovered it before? Time, opportunity--all had been favourable. He supposed it was that the recollection of Cynthia Daintree had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and that he had been pa.s.sing through a misogynistic stage accordingly.

"I don't believe these 'budmashes' are as quiet as they seem," Tarleton was saying. "Or if they are, it's because they are hatching devilment.

I've been longer among them than you have, Raynier, and Mus.h.i.+m Khan isn't the sort to turn into a lamb all of a sudden, as he seems to have done lately."

They were talking over Raynier's visit to the Nawab, and Tarleton, as usual, was contradictious.

"What is the Nawab like, Mr Raynier?" said Hilda Clive.

"Rather a fine-looking man--in fact, very."

"And is his palace very splendid?"

Raynier stared.

"Very splendid?" he repeated--"Oh, I see! The idea is quite a natural one. But, as a matter of fact, he hasn't got any 'palace' at all. He lives in a mud-walled village."

"No. Not really?"

"Miss Clive thinks he ought to wear a crown and go about blazing with jewels," said Tarleton.

"Well, that isn't an inexcusable mistake," rejoined Raynier, "considering the ideas people generally a.s.sociate with his t.i.tle. You see, Miss Clive, the Gularzai are almost savages--fine savages, but still savages--something akin to our ideas of the desert Arab."

"Well, they can't help that, can they?" struck in Tarleton, apparently for no earthly reason, unless that n.o.body had dreamed of saying they could.

"I should like to see something of these people in their own homes,"

said the girl. "They must be rather interesting. I admire these I see walking about the station. It is a fine type of face. Are they Gularzai, Mr Raynier?"

"Fine type of face!" cut in Tarleton. "Why, they're the most villainous-looking scoundrels unhung. Any one of them would cut your throat for eight annas."

"A good many are Gularzai, Miss Clive," answered Raynier. "But all these mountain tribes are very much alike in appearance."