'Yes, Saib, that will keep my life. You give me belt, and make me peon of your Court; they never kill me. Yes, I will tell.' He then went on to say, that on the very day Lutchmon Sing was killed, he, Timbuckjee, was following his business tapping palms, for which purpose he had climbed up a lofty tree, and was engaged fastening an empty chatty to the part which he had incised. When he had finished his work he was about to descend, but he did not do so, having observed two men at some little distance off, standing at the foot of another lofty palm, engaged in earnest conversation. He soon recognised the men in question to be Saul Jan and Kulmuck. Concealed as he was by the leaves and branches, and remaining perfectly still, he himself remained wholly unobserved, while he had a full opportunity of watching all that passed between the men named. He was not near enough to hear anything, but judging from their behaviour it seemed to him that Saul Jan was urging Kulmuck to accede to some proposition that had previously been made to him, but to which he steadily refused to consent. At last he seemed to yield, and then he held out his hand, into which Saul Jan counted 20 Rs.; these Kulmuck tied up, after again counting them, in a corner of his cloth, and then parted from Saul Jan, who took the way to his own house, while Kulmuck also went to his hut, where he remained about half an hour; then he left it and returned to the jungle. Timbuckjee did not dare to follow Kulmuck too nearly lest he should be discovered, but he kept him in sight till he entered the path that led to Lutchmon Sing's dwelling. There he lost sight of him. In about an hour he again saw Kulmuck, running in the direction of the hut where he remained to drink, and where he was found with his bloody cloth and knife. While he was running Timbuckjee observed that his cloth was stained.
This statement, having been sworn to after the Moplah fashion, was taken down, and Timbuckjee made to vouch for its truth by affixing his mark to it. The Judge then countersigned it. Now as no money had been found on Kulmuck's person when he was captured, it was clear that he must have deposited it somewhere else, and if Timbuckjee's story was true, he had been nowhere, after having received the blood-money from Saul Jan, but to his own hut; consequently, then, the rupees should be found there.
To Kulmuck's hut therefore at once went the Judge, my brother, several subordinates of the Court, a posse of peons, and some coolies with mattocks and picks. The whole floor of the hut was examined without discovering any sign of earth having been recently turned up; nevertheless it was dug up all over without avail. The whole of the compound was then treated in the same way, still without finding anything: doubt was beginning to attach to Timbuckjee's statement, when someone said: 'Try the roof.' In less than two minutes afterwards there was a shout, and one of the peons drew forth from the thatch a piece of rag evidently containing rupees. The little parcel was immediately handed to the Judge, who opened it before all present, and counted out the number of rupees which Timbuckjee had seen Saul Jan count out to Kulmuck.
This discovery proved the truth of all that Timbuckjee had said, and at the same time proved the guilt of Saul Jan and Kulmuck. I am glad to say that both these ruffians were sentenced to be hanged. Great efforts to save Saul Jan were made by the Moplahs, who declared that he had been defrauded of his undoubted rights, and that Lutchmon Sing deserved his fate. And nothing would convince these brutal and savage disciples of a brutal and sensual creed that the murder deserved capital punishment. They threatened resistance, used very violent language, and seemed altogether so highly irritated and incensed that three companies of the European regiment stationed at Canamore were marched from thence to Tollicherry in order to overawe them, and along with the three companies half a battery of Horse Artillery. These decisive and judicious measures had the effect desired; the would-be rebels thought ball cartridges, grape-shot, and fixed bayonets unpleasant things to face, and that under the circumstances discretion was the better part of valour. The execution, therefore, took place without either disturbance or bloodshed.
No. XI. AN HOUR LOST AT MR. G.'S DINNER.
After the execution of the two Moplahs for the murder of poor Lutchmon Sing, nothing worth recording took place at Tollicherry during some months. People got up in the morning, went to bed at night, and ate their dinners in a very routine, humdrum sort of way, and nothing occurred to vary the monotony of existence except a new number of Lever's 'Charles O'Malley,' or the issue of cards for a dinner or evening party at the First Judge's house, which was a regular monthly institution with that most hospitable and generous man.
Things had been going on in this way for about three months when, so far as concerned my brother, there was a change, which entailed on him considerable anxiety, and a good deal of extra work. An officer of the Bombay army was sent to Tollicherry on sick certificate. He had landed, and had, by means of his servant, taken a small house in the town before my brother heard anything of him. He had, indeed, been three days so located when Lieutenant Mitchel, who was in command of the detachment usually stationed at the place, met my brother in his morning walk, and told him of the advent of Mr. M. of the —— Infantry, Bombay. 'Hasn't he sent you his case, and the private statement of the regimental medical officer?' asked Mitchel. 'He has not,' said my brother; 'indeed, until you informed me of it, I was as ignorant of the arrival here of Mr. M. as I was of his existence. But now, as he is here on sick certificate, I shall go and see him, though it was his duty in the first place to have sent me his papers.'
'Then,' returned Mitchel, 'we'll go and see him together; we may as well walk that way as any other.' So said, so done. On their way they met Captain B., who, after good-morning, inquired if they had got 'a purwoke to Waughan's, because if you haven't you will have. I saw the cards.' 'Well,' said Mitchel, 'V. deserves to be called the punir of Tollicherry: the place would be nothing without him. And then he gives such champagne and claret; it's really worth something to get a "purwoke," as our friend says, to his house.' 'You should be tender in making your quotations,' whispered my brother. 'I'll tender an apologue,' said Mitchel quietly, 'if you wish.' Here Captain B. parted from his companions, his road lying in a different direction.