Its touch was magical. She clutched at the hand that had put it on, and the cries died down to a whimper.
'Lo, my brother! Lo, my brother, my brother! Tell them I can die. Let them give me time, and I will die! Yea, with time I can die, as well as with poison.'
It was impossible to avoid a smile; the doctor, indeed, laughed cheerily. 'No doubt about that, mother,' he said to her in a relieved tone of voice, 'but not just yet. You haven't got the plague. And you haven't it either,' he continued, turning to Lateefa. 'That is two of you--one woman and a servant. Now, if you can show me the other two inmates in like case, I can give a clean bill. So where are they? In here, I suppose.'
He passed towards the inner door, but Lateefa was there before him. Sharp as a needle, the doctor's words had made him see that Noormahal, alone, would be no good. There must be two women, or the tragedy of the green satin trousers would be as surely discovered as if poor Khâdjee had not been buried; and that would mean a segregation camp, at best, for all three of them. It might be impossible to hoodwink the sahibs, but he could try. So he appealed volubly to Jack Raymond. This was infamy, as the Huzoor knew, to secluded dames. It had to be, of course; but let it be done in the easiest way. Let the sick woman--she was none so ill but that she could do so much for humanity's sake--go in first and tell of the Huzoor's kindness; of how he was a bracelet-brother (Lateefa had, of course, grasped this fact without in the least understanding how it had happened); no doubt she would be able to persuade the secluded ones to come out for inspection, and that would be less disgrace than the invasion by male things of their sacred isolation.
Jack Raymond watched the keen audacious face narrowly; then once more he said aside to the doctor, 'Hanky-panky! That sick woman is as much secluded as the others; but I'd let her go. Give them a free hand and they will be quieter, if we find them out. Anything is better than hunting them down, poor souls!'
Lateefa, therefore, much to his inward delight--also contempt!--was allowed free instructions to Aunt Khôjee, while the search-party stood aside.
'We can t let 'em down easier, can we?' said the doctor as he waited; and Jack Raymond shook his head despondently.
'No,' he answered, 'but it's a brutal business all the same--to their notions, and you can't change them in a hurry.'
Meanwhile Lateefa's instructions ran in this fashion. Khôjee was to tell Noormahal that the big Lord-sahib had sent the bracelet-brother to fetch her to a private interview. That the state dhoolies were waiting. That all was of the strictest ceremonial. On that point she had a free hand. She was to say anything which would induce the Nawâbin to come out. And she herself was to change her dress swiftly and personate Khâdjee. It was a chance--the Huzoors might not think of seeing the three women together. So, with a parting admonition to be brave, he pushed the tottering Khôjee through the inner door, closed it, and turned to the two Englishmen appealingly.
'The Huzoors must give time, for it is as death to noble ladies to see strangers; but the old woman will tell them that the Huzoors are as their fathers and mothers. May God promote them to be Lords!'