It was as if the woman's whole nature had recoiled, as one might recoil from a snake in the path, and a chill struck Kate Erlton's heart, as she realized on how frail a foundation peace and security rested. A look, a word, might bring death. It seemed to her incredible that she should have forgotten this, but she had. She had almost forgotten that they were living in a beleagured city, though the reverberating roll of artillery, the rush and roar of shells, and the crackle of musketry never ceased for more than a few hours at a time.
She was not alone, however, in her forgetfulness. Half Delhi had become accustomed to cannon, to bugles and fifes, and went on its daily round indifferently. But in the Palace the dream grew ominously thin once or twice. For not a fraction remained in the Treasury, no effort to collect revenue had been made anywhere, and fat Mahboob, the only man who knew how to screw money out of a stone, lay dying of dropsy. And as he lay, the mists of personal interest in the future dispersing, he told his old master, the King, some home truths privately, while Ahsan-Oolah, the physician, administering cooling draughts as usual, added his wisdom to the eunuch's. There was no hope where there was no money. Life was not worth living without a regular pension. Let the King secure his and secure pardon while there was yet time, by sending a letter to the General on the Ridge, and offering to let the English in by Selimgarh and betray the city. When all was said and done, others had betrayed him, had forced his hand; so let him save himself if he could, quietly, without a word to any but Ahsan-Oolah. Above all, not one word to Zeenut Maihl, Hussan Askuri, and Bukht Khân--that Trinity of Dreams!
With which words of wisdom mayhap lightening his load of sins, the fat eunuch left the court once and for all. So the old King, as he sat listening to the quarrels of his Commander-in-Chief, had other consolation besides couplets; and when he wrote
"No peace, no rest, since armies round me riot,
Life lingers yet, but ere long I shall die o't,"
he knew--though his yellow, wax-like mask hid the knowledge from all--that a chance of escape remained.
The old King's letter reached the Ridge easily. There was no difficulty in communication now. Spies were plentiful, and if Jim Douglas had been able to get about, he could have set Major Erlton's mind at rest without delay. But Soma positively refused to be a go-between; to do anything, in short, save secure the master's safety. And the offer of betrayal arrived when the man who held command of the Ridge felt uncertain of the future; all the more so because of the telegrams, the letters--almost the orders--which came pouring in to take Delhi--to take it at once! Early in the month, the gamester's throw of assault had been revived with the arrival of reinforcements, only to be abandoned once more, within an hour of the appointed time, in favor of the grip-of-death. But now, though the whisper had gone no further than the General's tent, a third possibility was allowed--retreat. The six thousand were dwindling day by day, the men were half dead with picket duty, wearied out with needless skirmishes, crushed by the tyranny of bugles and fifes.
If this then could be? There was no lack of desire to believe it possible; but Greathed of the politicals, and Sir Theophilus Metcalfe shook their heads doubtfully. Hodson, they said, had better be consulted. So the tall man with the blue hawk's eyes, who had lost his temper many times since that dawn of the 12th of June, when the first assault had hung fire, was asked for his opinion.
"We had a chance at the beginning," he said. "We could have a chance now, if there was someone--but that is beside the question. As for this, it is not worth the paper it is written on. The King has no power to fulfill his promise. He is virtually a prisoner himself. That is the truth. But don't send an answer. Refer it, and keep him quiet."
"And retreat?"
"Retreat is impossible, sir. It would lose us India."