He waved the cigar he was smoking towards Eshwara. It looked sleepier, more sun-saturate than ever, as it lay reflected in the still lagoon between it and the tent in which he was sitting; a double-poled, Commissioner's tent, which two days before had swooped down like an avenging angel with broad white wings to take possession of the just and the unjust in the name of Victoria Kaiser-i-Hind.
It was pitched on the site of the Viceroy's camp, for the convenience of being close to the gaol where the late disturbers of the public peace had taken up their residence. In fact, the mast from which the royal standard had floated, still reared itself, bare, undraped, from its roundel of roses. But the flowers were withered, dead. Even the palms, their work of welcome over, were wilting fast; but they still gave a doubtful shade to some groups of manacled men, who, guarded by yellow-legged constables, were placidly awaiting the Commissioner's leisure and pleasure; both being, at the time, occupied with lunch and Dr. Dillon. So, the wide white wings of the tent being set open and supported with bamboos to let in the breeze, the representative of law and order could be seen--his feet on the table among his law books--drinking an iced whiskey-and-soda.
Dr. Dillon--he looked careworn chiefly because in his care for others he had, as yet, been able to take no rest--nodded.
"Yes; and it doesn't, as a rule. A more peaceable spot never was. You can't account for these sudden idiotic outbreaks. One reason is as good as another. And so old Mother Campbell, with her assertion that it all came because Miss Shepherd would talk about Jean Ziska's drum--"
The Commissioner smiled. "Yes, the good lady has an endless circle of unfounded beliefs, all dependent on each other for support. It's the most comfortable way of getting through life. An' miracles are like drams--ye can't stop them, once you begin. Besides, on me soul, it was queer--even Carlyon said--"
"And if it were true," interrupted the doctor, "we shouldn't be any 'forrader'! We shouldn't understand. And that's our position now. You can't, in fact. It's better you shouldn't; in India, at any rate. Just accept them, ignore them, smash them, hush them up"--here his face clouded--"and in this case there is a good deal that had better be kept dark--you'll do your best, I hope?"
The keen whimsical face hardened. "I shall follow the usual official routine, sir," he said cynically; "for, look you, there never was a row like this in India but there is something in it about a woman, which we've got to hush up. An' that's God's truth. Yes, we pay a heavy toll--" He broke off, took up a pen as if to write, threw it down impatiently, and stared out into the hot, yellow sunshine.
Dr. Dillon sat twiddling his mushroom hat round and round in his nervous fingers, and staring out into it also. A sense of being face to face with an unpleasant truth was on them both. Suddenly he laughed harshly.
"We ought to have got accustomed to the fact by this time, anyhow," he said, "for it began early enough in the history of man. Well, I'm off; you won't want me, will you, this afternoon, now those men have turned Queen's evidence?"
"Don't think so. Let's see." The Commissioner drew a list towards him, and ran his eye over it. "I've condemned three warders and seven prisoners to death for poor Dering's murder; so I daresay penal servitude will see through the rest. Then there's jogi Gorakh-nâth and his gosain. They ought to be hung, but we haven't caught them, and we never shall; the wild ass that snuffeth up the east wind isn't in it with a Hindoo ascetic in eluding captors! So the lot out there are really small fry; for the other ringleaders are either dead or departed--even that amphibious brute, Gu-gu."