“That is not very likely, Tynan,” the major replied. “To speak plainly, this won’t wash with us, though it may do for strangers who know nothing about the matter. You’ve had fever, and you’ve imagined all this and forgotten what really happened.”
Tynan heartily wished that this had been the case, and the colonel pointed out that the document was signed before the fever, not after.
“But I expect the poor fellow was raving,” said Munro, “after the shock and the blow on his head.”
“It’s perfectly true,” Tynan vehemently asserted as the major’s words gave him an idea. Dull though he was, like many foolish people he had a certain amount of cunning.
“Why should it not be true?” he continued. “I don’t wish to say anything against Ted Russell, but I don’t see why he should have the credit that’s due to me.”
“Tell us, then,” suggested Colonel Woodburn, “what really did happen in the fort, and when the idea of blowing up the magazine first occurred to you.”
“As soon as we got inside,” Tynan doggedly answered, “I whispered to Russell that perhaps we should be reduced to that. I whispered, because I did not wish the Rajputs to suspect. Then during one of the quiet intervals I slipped away and laid a trail of powder from the magazine to the door of the room we were holding. I didn’t carry it farther, for the same reason—fear of our sepoys’ terror.”
Tynan had now completely abandoned himself to the father of lies, and he went on recklessly.
“When Pir Baksh offered to save our lives I felt convinced that he really wished to help us. Russell and I quarrelled because he would not trust him.”
“Then you admit that you would have surrendered the stores and munitions had it not been for Russell?” the colonel coldly remarked.