The intelligence was certainly unexpected. As the doctor's assistant appeared at that moment to relieve Mark at his post by the patient's bedside, he felt free to investigate this extraordinary piece of news for himself. Moideen was certainly nowhere to be seen; moreover, when Mark was conducted by the "maty" to Moideen's godown, by which humble name the comfortable and commodious quarters fitted up by the Collector for his favoured servant were still called, he found them empty. A sense of relief at once began to prevail. The man had by his flight sentenced himself. Without being arraigned, he had realised his position too well. Possibly the sight of Dr. Campbell's resolute face had struck terror into his conscience-stricken heart, or perhaps he had overheard the doctor's words in the verandah. Anyhow Mark felt that it was the best news he could have heard, though the big Jailer shook his head over it, when, on coming to inquire for the sick man, he was informed of the unexpected event.
"I've a good mind to have him tracked and convicted. What do you say, Judge?" he asked, turning to Mr. Goldring, who had also arrived to ask after the Collector.
"If anybody except Worsley was in question I'd have no hesitation in setting everything in train for a capture, but you know, Samptor, what Worsley is! He'll simply set himself to obstruct justice in this case. He'd hate the publicity of the affair," added the Judge, his blue eyes full of perplexity.
"Well, after all, the wretch is jolly well punished," returned the Jailer. "He's lost his fine soft berth and 'master's favour,' and all the rest of it. But I don't believe we've got to the bottom of this affair yet. Moideen didn't want to put an end to his master, be you sure of that!"
"No, the doctor thinks it was an accident," broke in Mark, "an overdose of the poison which acted with more deadly effect than was intended. Probably he was frantic when he saw what he had done. There may be a clue."
Mark proceeded to narrate his seeing of Moideen with the man whom the Collector seemed to have no doubt was the Tahsildar of Lerode.
"A clue indeed!" exclaimed Samptor, much interested. "Mahomet Usman no doubt desired for reasons of his own to have the Collector's visit postponed for a few days. That's all—though a valuable life was to be risked to attain that end. We're not unfamiliar with such methods, are we, Judge?"
"Unfortunately not," responded Mr. Goldring, shaking his head.
"Something wrong with his accounts," suggested Mark. "That's the conclusion I've come to. If the Collector will give me permission, as soon as he's able to be left, I'll hurry off to Lerode and look into the matter. We must get to the bottom of Mahomet Usman's tricks. Who knows what frauds may have been going on!"
"Let me tell you, you'll find Mahomet Usman's books in perfect order," returned Samptor. "He only wanted the extra day or two to accomplish that. They'll not be a pie wrong! It was to prevent any such discovery, don't you see, that our poor Collector has nearly been sacrificed. By all means, Cheveril, go to Lerode, but the wily Mussulman has got the start of you. His revenue collection will be all square by to-morrow or the next day. No doubt Moideen had his orders to keep the Collector quiet till then. That comes of letting those natives creep so close! Moideen was a clever dog, made himself indispensable to his master's comfort. Poor Worsley, pity his wife isn't of the sort to be at his side with the sharp eyes of my wife!"