"So I said, 'Where gottest thou Carlone-sahib's knife, Gu-gu?' thinking to startle him. And it did. He said no word, but came at me with it.
"So we fought. His right hand and mine on the knife, and our left arms round each other's throat, choking us; and our legs wrestling. Till the water grew too deep. Then we swam with them. But he said nothing, nor did I. There was no need. We understood, as dogs do, that it was foe and foe. So it came to the deep stream; his right hand and mine, with the knife between them, and our teeth fixed in each other's shoulders,--till I bethought me of his ear.
"Then he yelled, and let go; but I was after him as he dived. It was a long race. Wherefore not? since we are the best swimmers in the river. But I felt the cleave of the water from his foot at last, and spent myself in one stroke. So I laid hold of his leg and ran my hand up till I found his back. Then I used Carlone-sahib's knife on him, and he sank; and I sank too, with the blow.
"And when I came up, leaving him there, I found how long the race had been, for my right hand struck the city wall. Then it came to me what the Miss-sahiba had said, of Carlone-sahib wishing to go quick; and I bethought me of the secret passages, and the knife, and Gu-gu's fear. And I said to myself someone must have restored the miracle. Not Gu-gu; else why was he hiding? What if it be Carlone-sahib? But most of all I thought of my little son, and the devils longing for him, and for a woman longing for the sight of a man's beauty, and I knew I must go and see if it lay there. So I dived, and found him, as the Awarder of Justice knows, sitting high up, with the water about his feet, waiting for death, and brought him back as I promised. And Gu-gu is dead, for his body was drifting by the tunnel with Carlone-sahib's knife in the back as we came out. So the Miss is pleased, and the devils do not come near my son."
The brogue ceased, and there was a pause. "Well! what do ye say, Dillon?" asked the Commissioner, fretfully.
George Dillon rose and put on his hat deliberately. "Nothing. Except that I must really be off. I've to see Smith first, and Carlyon--that sprained ankle of his, which he got trying to climb up beyond the rise of the water, will be the deuce and all if he uses it too soon. And then, if I can, I want to get round and say good-by to--to the Miss-sahiba. She's off to Herrnhut again this evening. In fact, Campbell didn't half like her waiting for the funeral, he is in such a blessed hurry to get to his new field, as he calls it; thinks of nothing else. They are to be married on Monday, I believe."
The Commissioner laid aside Am-ma's affidavit with a soft "damn," and Dr. Dillon paused on his way out at the sound.
"Quite so,--I entirely agree with you," he said sympathetically; "but, unfortunately, there is only one person who has a right to tell that story, sir--and she won't!"
"Why not?" interrupted the Commissioner, militantly--"why the blazes shouldn't a woman tell the truth?"
"Because women don't know it," broke in the doctor, "or men either, for that matter. Because we men and women have got ourselves on such false lines, into such an absolutely false position towards each other, that the only course consistent with propriety and les convenances is to--to hush the thing up! So hush-a-bye baby, sir, to your heart's content. So long as the mother can tell her blessed infant that she is a lady, what does the real fact matter?"