"Hush! Traitors have long ears." Then, bending forward until his lips almost touched the ears of Ahmed, he said: "Do we know that Dilasah did not make ready this trap for the master?"
Ahmed started. This suspicion had not occurred to him. But remembering Dilasah's long association with Minghal, the man of wiles, and his sudden change of attitude towards his uncle, he saw that Ahsan's suggestion might be well founded. Who stood to gain so much from Rahmut Khan's disappearance as Dilasah? He coveted the chiefship; he had been consumed with anger when Rahmut adopted Ahmed as his heir; nothing was more likely than that he should seize such an opportunity of getting rid of the old chief, and so open the way to his ambition.
"Then it will be a fight between Dilasah and me," said the boy, setting his teeth.
"Hai! That is again foolishness," replied the old man. "What can you do, Ahmed-ji? Dilasah is a grown man, cunning as a leopard. He will speak soft words to the people, and when he tells them 'tis a choice between him and you, and you a Feringhi, think you they will respect the desires of the master when he is far away? Many love you, some are indifferent, some are envious; but when Dilasah has said his say, and made his promises, and got the mullah on his side—as he will do with presents of sheep and tobacco—think you that even those who love you will offend Allah and risk the pains of Gehenna for you? There is talk even now that the Feringhis wish to make us all Christians. Dilasah and the mullah will persuade the folk that you, if you become their chief, will turn them from the true belief. I am an old man, Ahmed-ji, but though I have a white beard and toothless gums I can yet see a cloud in the sky."
Ahmed frowned. He had not foreseen these difficulties. He repeated the Koran and said the prayers the mullah had taught him; in nothing did he fall short of the observances required of good Mohammedans. In the early days of his life in Shagpur, when he went tearfully to bed, he had repeated the little prayers learnt at his mother's knee; but in the long years since then, during which he had heard no word of English spoken around him, these English prayers had slipped from him. It was absurd to suppose that when he became chief he would try to turn the people to a religion of which he knew nothing. He could not but think that Ahsan's fears were groundless, and when next day Dilasah met him with a frank smile, and, after a word of commiseration of the unhappy fate of Rahmut Khan, addressed him with apparent cordiality as the new chief, he ran to tell Ahsan that he was quite mistaken.
There was sorrow in the village at the loss of Rahmut Khan. The people were proud of him, and with shrill cries called down maledictions on the Feringhis. But no one spoke of attempting anything on his behalf; Ahsan's views on that matter were shared by them all. Dilasah led the way in professions of loyalty to Ahmed, much to the wonderment of the old gate-keeper. Ahsan watched him narrowly. He did not believe in his sincerity, and yet could see no object in his feigning a loyalty he did not feel. And it was not until some days had passed that a light flashed upon him. Though Dilasah agreed with the rest of the men that it was impossible to rescue the old chief, he said that it was surely desirable that an attempt should be made to discover his fate. And at that, Assad, the father of Sherdil, offered to make the journey to Peshawar to inquire.
"Who better than I?" he said. "Sherdil, my son, is a great man among the Feringhis; it is a good thing that I, his father, should visit him and see with my own eyes the greatness that has come to him. Without doubt he will be in Peshawar or some place near at hand; it will be easy for me to find him, and he will assuredly know what has become of our master. I will go to Peshawar, and bring back news of the chief, and also, I doubt not, some manifest tokens of the estimation in which my son is held."
This offer he made to Ahmed in the presence of Dilasah, and the latter strongly urged its acceptance. Accordingly, two days after the return of the luckless expedition, Assad set off disguised as a mendicant, to escape all danger of being snapped up by a hostile tribe if he went otherwise. And shrewd old Ahsan now saw through the conduct of Dilasah. The man would not feel safe until he knew for certain that Rahmut Khan was permanently out of the way. If there was the least chance of the chief's return—whether by escape, or by payment of a fine, for Dilasah was very hazy as to what his punishment would be—it behooved him to go carefully. Shagpur would never side with him against its rightful chief; and if Rahmut should come back and find that he had tried to oust Ahmed, he knew that he could expect no mercy from his kinsman. He was thus biding his time, thought Ahsan, until Rahmut's fate was known with certainty, and then he would show his hand.
"You must be ready for flight when Assad comes back," said the gate-keeper to Ahmed.
"Why should I flee?" asked the boy.