A Bottle in the Smoke: A Tale of Anglo-Indian Life

by Janet Milne Rae

"All the same, old mother, guard your venerable bones when you get into the streets," he added.

Rayner remembered his rôle so well that he salaamed profoundly as he passed out, and the ticket-collector looked after him, shaking his head.

"It's a far cry from Puranapore to Beypore, poor old amah! She'd have been safer there to-day than here!"

Rayner could see from the changed appearance of the passers-by in the streets that the town was roused. There seemed also to be a large addition to the usual population. Haughty, stalwart groups of Mussulmans, evidently from the Mofussil, strode about, casting looks of hatred on the Hindus, many of whom were hurrying to close their shops and stalls, whispering ominously to each other. Even the boldest beggars rattled their gourds with less confidence than usual; and from the windows of the houses which gave on the streets he could catch glimpses of female forms looking down like startled birds. Everywhere extreme tension was visible.

"I expect they're only bottling up till nightfall," muttered Rayner. "My programme, sketched to Zynool, has evidently been adopted. Clever dog—an apt pupil, in fact! He should forgive this little blunder of mine, seeing I've proved such an excellent teacher! All the same, I little thought I was to be in at the death!"

He crept cautiously along the narrow streets in search of a bazaar where he might pick up a native repast.

"An English breakfast might give the show away," he sighed, remembering the dainty breakfast table at Clive's Road at which Hester would now be seated, but from which he was banished. Finding a stall where eatables were displayed, and cooking in progress, he crept up, asking in a humble tone for a cup of coffee, and some rice cakes. An excellent meal was provided, but after partaking of it he had to withdraw to a corner to extricate the payment from his pocket beneath the folds of his saree, so he decided to purchase one of the gay little cotton bags which he had noticed was an invariable part of the ayah's dress, and to keep some small change in it for emergencies. The bag also suggested a supply of betel-nut; for he remembered the stained lips and teeth would all go to enhance the needful "make-up." Having made his small purchases successfully, he wandered about the streets for a time, but the sun was now beating mercilessly down on his head, which was uncovered save for the muslin wrap, and his feet were beginning to be scorched and blistered by the burning pavements till he felt obliged to seek some cooler retreat.

He now made his way to the outlying portion of the town. He glanced up at the mosque as he passed it, recalling how Zynool and he had plotted that this bone of contention should be planted in close proximity to the burning-ghaut of the Hindus. Then he strolled down to the river-side, and took a closer survey of the spot than he had ever done before. Some oleanders threw out graceful branches which suggested a possibility of shade, but they afforded no shelter from the fierceness of the sun. He began to fear sunstroke if he lingered longer without cover, but to seek shelter in any house might have evil consequences.

Limping slowly along the road, he came at length to a palm-tope and threw himself on the burnt-up grass in the best shaded corner he could find. A spell of sleep soon granted him some relief. When he awoke he glanced at his watch, and was thankful to see that afternoon was approaching. Soon he could take his way to the station, but being unwilling to enter the town again he was desirous of postponing his arrival there till close on the hour of the train's departure for Madras. He decided to stray further into the jungly scrub which stretched beyond the palm-tope, and would fain have rested in the cool-looking rank grass which abounded; but Indian jungles were treacherous, teeming with insect life, not to speak of the possible lurking presence of snakes, and he did not dare to sit at ease. The shade, however, was refreshing, and he would while away the hours till the darkness fell.

For the first time since he was faced by the fear of detection he felt inclined to review his plans for escape. Self-pity entered largely into his thoughts. He regretted he had not made definite arrangements with Hester to have some needful belongings forwarded to him, and resolved to send her an unsigned memo, directing her to dispatch his dressing-boy, whom he regarded as specially faithful, with a portion of his wardrobe to Beypore. He felt a certain interest and excitement in making a list of his needs on the leaf of a scribbling book which he discovered in his pocket, though he had got rid of his pocket-book when he visited the river, fearing lest it might become a witness against him. He began to write minute directions to his wife about various matters.