I felt Babu Chowdry watching me to see if I was satisfied. He drew a deep breath. “That’ll be all right,” we said to each other, and both returned to work. He came into my room a minute later, and said impressively, “The people do say it must be a Devil, as the rifles won’t go off.” He waited to see the effect of the announcement, but getting only, “That’ll be all right,” he returned to business.
In an hour or so Snadden reappeared, looking tired with laughing. This was what he had to tell:
“My wife had a fright yesterday. A leopard had been seen prowling round the house. A servant said it came upon the verandah, and stood on its hind legs and looked into the nursery, where the baby was, and also a dog.” (Mr Snadden intimated in some way that he had doubted the story.) He continued: “I told my wife it would prefer dog, but naturally she did not wish it to have a choice. So I set her mind at rest by leaving a military policeman with a rifle to hold the fort when I came to office, explaining to him what to do if the leopard returned. It came all right, about the same time as yesterday. They say the cook was [156] ]in the act of showing the policeman where it issued yesterday from the jungle, when they saw it reappear.
“The man loaded, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The cartridge did not go off. He slipped in another noiselessly, and aimed again. There was no hurry. The leopard did not see him. It was standing still, apparently taking a deliberate view of the house and servants’ quarters; looking for a dog, I do believe. No man could want an easier target. After aiming carefully he pulled the trigger, and for the second time the shot did not go off.
“This seems to have flustered him, so that he made an audible click as he put in a third cartridge, and the leopard heard it and looked round and saw him, and turned to go away. He took aim at it. It turned its head round for a parting glance at him just as he pulled the trigger again. For the third time the rifle failed to act. The shot did not go off. The man was left standing, half distracted. He said that as it disappeared the leopard swelled to the size of a tiger, and the glare of its eyes as it looked at him made his heart stand still. It could be no common leopard that bewitched his rifle so.
“Everybody in the house gathered round him [157] ]to hear his story. That was when my wife sent a man running to me. The policeman half-walked, half-staggered to the lines” (the huts where sepoys lived, near Mr Snadden’s house), “and there he was when I went up. They had had a glorious scare. By George, how quickly the panic spread!” reflected Mr Snadden. “They were shivering with funk all round the court before the man, who was running from my house, arrived there. I had noticed something was amiss, and was making inquiries to find out what it was before he came.”
“Had the man loitered on the way?”
“No, I think he came straight. The panic round here was not his doing, whatever it was. It came up from the bazaar. I’ve made sure of that. It seems a miracle. I’ve been round pacifying the town. The bazaar was upside down, business was stopped, women were shrieking and running after their children a mile away from my house, within a few minutes after the leopard disappeared into the bushes. I cannot understand it.”
“Was the beast seen elsewhere?”
“No. The panic was all about what had happened and the rifle not going off.”