'During the night!' commented Jack Raymond swiftly, as, scarcely able to believe their ears, those two followed the old man's lead. 'Then it is true--Jerry has--has kept the flag!'
[CHAPTER XXVI]
FAIR ODDS
The pendulum of India is a heavy one; it soon returns to its normal arc; and so, after a very few days, nothing remained to show that any force had sent it beyond its usual swing in Nushapore except the charred ruins of two bungalows; and they, being in Shark Lane, were not so much en evidence as they would have been elsewhere.
So far, even, as personal disturbance to the owners was concerned, the sum-total of effect was small; for Chris Davenant had not returned to hear of his loss, and Mrs. Chris, after the terrors of that night, when she had become part of the old half-crazy khânsâman's memory of the past, seemed glad to be rid of any tie to India. Indeed, as the faces around her became graver when no tidings came of her husband, and the impression grew that he and Jân-Ali-shân had, in some mysterious way, been mixed up in the attempt to wreck the train, and the fall of the bastion, she seemed almost relieved. Her one desire was to escape from a place where such terror was possible; to return to London, to its ways and works. To the red Hammersmith 'bus that runs to Kew on Sundays; to the baker, the butcher, and the little greengrocer round the corner. And when she wept, it was chiefly because--having no worldly goods beyond a torn and tattered pink tarlatan--she could not engage her passage home, until a sufficient subscription was raised to pay for it. And she had not many friends.
So far as the one bungalow, therefore, was concerned, there were few regrets. On the other hand, Mr. Lucanaster's were distinctly above the average. He had not only been burned out of house and home, but of other more valuable things; since, almost before he had had time to consider how best to ensure their safety, an inrush of voices and steps in the verandah had made him think of that most valuable of all possessions--his life--and leave the rest--even the woman in the next room!
And as if this was not bad enough, something else had occurred which had reduced him to helpless impotent cursing and swearing against Fate, Jehân Aziz, Mrs. Chris Davenant, and everything that had conspired to bring about such incredible ill-luck.
And yet it was a very simple thing, almost ludicrously so.
The very day after the rioting, when all Nushapore was being searched for evidence, the police with great pride had brought him back the casket which had been left open on the table with the pink dewdrops beside it, when Mrs. Chris fled with the khânsâman of Rickett-sahib bahadur (who was killed). It was now closed, and had been discovered, they said, in the house of one Govind, who had been arrested on suspicion. And he, to screen himself doubtless from worse accusations, had stated that he had found it flung away on the road not far from the blazing bungalow. Therefore, since it was evidently a jewel casket, it was most likely part of the Huzoor's lost property; and if so, he could detail its contents and open the spring-lock with his key, in order that the description might be duly verified and the necessary forms filled up.
For one brief second Mr. Lucanaster had returned thanks to such gods as he possessed for this small mercy. Here was something saved from the general débâcle; to begin with, a very valuable ruby--and----