"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 title 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 fashion 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, pass 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.