"The seditionists, of course," said an elderly planter.
"Yes; but today it isn't a question of an isolated outrage on one Englishwoman, nor of a few Bengali lawyers in Calcutta and their dupes among hot-headed students and ignorant peasants," said Dermot. "It's the biggest thing we've ever had to face yet in India. What we want to get at is the head and brains of the conspiracy."
"What do you make of this attempt on Miss Daleham?" asked Granger. "What was the object of it?"
"Probably just terrorism. They wanted to show that no one is secure under our rule. It may be that Narain Dass, who had worked on this garden and seen Miss Daleham, suggested it. They may have thought that the carrying off of an Englishwoman would make more impression than the mere bombing of a police officer or a magistrate—we are too used to that."
"But why employ Bhuttias?" asked Payne.
"To throw the pursuers off the track and prevent their being run down. The search would stop if we thought they'd gone across the frontier, so they could get away easily. When they had got Miss Daleham safely hidden away in the labyrinths of a native bazaar, perhaps in Calcutta, they'd have let everyone know who had carried her off."
"Who was the other fellow with Narain Dass—the chap who talked Bengali?"
"Probably a Bhuttia who knew the language was given the Brahmin as an interpreter."
"But I say, Major," cried a planter, "who the devil were the lot that attacked you?"
"I'm hanged if I know," Dermot answered. "I have been inclined to believe them to be a gang of political dacoits, probably coming to meet the Bhuttias and take Miss Daleham from them, but in that case they would have been young Brahmins and better armed. This lot were low-caste men and their weapons were mostly old muzzle-loading muskets."