"Just what I told the young fool," muttered Rayner. "If only he hadn't mixed himself up with that lot, he might have passed anywhere for a pucka Englishman."
The clerks had now disappeared round a bend of the road, and the silence remained unbroken till the noise of horse's hoofs sounded behind. It was the Collector himself, riding a beautiful black mare. Rayner shrank into the shadow as much as possible, but he could see that Mr. Worsley's face looked grave, though his eyes were bright, and he managed his mettlesome steed with elegant ease.
"Why, the whole sahib-log has turned out," thought Rayner. "I'll give the town as wide a berth as possible, and slink up by the back streets to the station."
He walked on, congratulating himself that at least there was no risk of meeting any of the English contingent, seeing they had all gone townwards. Soon he came to the little English cantonment, as it was still called, though the military element had been withdrawn. It was not unknown to him. He had visited it and left cards on some of the residents in earlier days, before he began to intrigue with Zynool and became conscious that he was a suspected person. He liked to dwell on these days now.
"I was a fool ever to have leagued myself with a native," he sighed. "It's only brought me bad luck in the end."
He remembered, too, a pleasant afternoon he had passed as the recipient of little Mrs. Samptor's hospitality. He was trying to identify her bungalow when he heard voices. Two ladies stood talking at a gate. He was startled to recognise Mrs. Samptor's voice, but decided his best policy was to creep quietly past, sustaining his rôle as an old ayah in every particular.
"Don't you fear, Mrs. Campbell, Samptor will make them scuttle like sheep!" remarked one of the ladies, and Rayner had no difficulty in recognising Mrs. Samptor's sharp tones. "I say, whose ayah's that? Can't be Mrs. Goldring's—too tall! Is she yours, Mrs. Campbell?"
"No, mine went to eat rice; besides, she's quite short in comparison to that one."
"She's not the Meakin's either. I know their one. Yes, she is tall—she doesn't look the right muster for an ayah somehow. I say, what if she's a Mahomedan in disguise come to murder us all when our men are away!"
Rayner had heard too much for his peace of mind. These were no safe quarters for him. He wheeled right about and began to walk hastily towards the town again.