These considerations did not improve one listener's temper. On the contrary, they increased his desire for delay; for, having already warned Sir George that, in his opinion, the city was more unstable than authority seemed to think, he washed his hands of that responsibility. All he had to do, therefore, was to get and pay for this paper, if needful, and so prevent its being made use of against the Government--prevent its being a worry to--to Jerry's mother!
He therefore had lunch and a cigar quietly. It was, in fact, close on four o'clock when he started, riding, for the city. But at the nearest gate to the bazaar, whence the threat of using the information had emanated, he gave his pony to the sais, bidding him go home; since he knew by experience the attention which a European on horseback excites in a native town, and without in the least wishing for concealment, he had no desire to be followed by gossip-mongers. The gate in question was that giving on the poor Hindoo quarter, the glass-bangle makers, the poultry keepers, the burden carriers, and--in a sort of off-shoot half-in, half-out of the city--the leather workers; that curious class, apart from all caste and creed, yet necessary to all, and from their ignorance, their isolation, the most difficult to civilise.
So far Jack Raymond, personally, had seen and heard nothing beyond Aunt Khôjee's tale, as reported by Lateefa, to give grounds for more than caution; but he had not gone a dozen yards down the miserable bazaar which served the neighbourhood, before he realised that action might be necessary. Most of the shops were shut, and scarcely a human being was to be seen; signs--in upside-down Eastern fashion--that the peace of the people was disturbed. And it might mean more. These signs, to be seen of all, might have been duly reported to the proper authorities and been disregarded by them. But if they had not been so reported, there could, considering the perfection of organisation for such reports which exists in every native town, be but one explanation of the fact--treachery! He would find out about this, he told himself, merely for his own satisfaction, on his way back, since the minor treachery of police constables and such like had its price, and he had five thousand rupees in his pocket towards a good deed! It would be curious if, after all----
The thought of Lesley made him smile good-humouredly. What with the râm rucki and the green sleeves, and now this possible good deed, it was hopeless to escape that young person. He walked on more cheerfully, and in a few minutes found himself in the courtyard of Dilarâm's house on his way to Govind's den on the second story; since his--as yet unknown--quarry had given that address. The whole house, however, was so still, so deserted, that he half feared his journey might be in vain. But it was not so. The door, marked 24 in rough white letterings, was ajar, and Govind, yawning, dishevelled, rose from a corner with an apology of a salaam as his visitor entered. The room was almost empty. Even the printing-press had disappeared, gone, like all else, in the attempt to live upon lies; for, even with Govind's nose for nastiness, he had been driven to sell the goodwill, stock, and block of the 'Ear of the Wise' to another unwise aspirant towards literary fame. His last issue had been the one detailing the horrors of Sobrai's disgrace and Noormahal's death; to the unusual success of which, especially among the Mohammedan soldiers in cantonments, had been due the unexpected offer to buy the going concern. The would-be purchaser being a new discontent, who, having been turned out of a regimental office for falsifying returns, was keen on revenging himself by spreading disaffection in the native army. Govind had naturally jumped at the offer, and for two days past had been debauching himself on the proceeds, in certain anticipation of more money to come from the sale of something which could no longer be used as copy; for, he told himself, even if his first bold bid for a buyer produced no results, almost every native newspaper in Nushapore would be glad of anything which might help to damage--when the proper time came--the good faith of their rulers.
But now, as the figure of a sahib showed at the door, his bhang-dulled eyes lit up with triumph; the next moment, however, he was murmuring a humble 'Gharib-nawâz!' and wishing that the earth would open and swallow him--wishing he had never sent the letter! But who could have dreamt of its being answered by Rahmân-sahib!
'Oh! it is you, is it?' remarked Jack Raymond, recognising an old club baboo whom he had run in for theft of cigars. 'You are Govind Râm, editor, are you? That simplifies matters. I suppose you wrote this, and that the talk of knowing a man who knows, etc., is the usual business. You have a paper--you want five thousand rupees for it--just like your cheek! You'll get two. Hand it over.'
He made the offer advisedly; for he knew the man to have friends in the Secretariat; knew, briefly, that he was a likely man to have got hold--if not of the lost letter, yet of something confidential. To haggle with him, therefore, was mere waste of time; more especially as he himself had long since ceased to regard the five thousand rupees he carried about with him as his own money. So it might as well go--in a good action!--and save him bother.
It did. Govind, who at most had expected five hundred, lost no time in producing the paper.
Jack Raymond looked at it, then at Govind.
'You d--d fool,' he said softly, 'I don't think you'll find it worth while.'