[6] "If God give I will take."
[CHAPTER XXII.]
For a moment the natural presence of mind which Fazil possessed deserted him, and his brain seemed to reel under conflicting thoughts, and the weight and importance of the secret of which he had become possessed. Should he disclose himself to the King as he passed out, and urge him to allow Pahar Singh to be taken? The retinue which awaited the monarch would be enough to surround the temple, and the robber's capture or death was certain. It was a deed to do to prove his devotion, and the country would be free of a bold and mischievous marauder, who plundered it up to the gates of the city. But the King's promise to the outlaw was for the time sacred, and there was, perhaps, further service to be done by the man, which could not be delayed. As regards the Wuzeer and his family, also, he must avow his knowledge of the secret to the King, when he might be charged as his spy, and so share the Wuzeer's fate. These thoughts checked the impulse which had so nearly carried him on,—it might have been to destruction.
"Shall we follow him? shall we speak to the King?" asked Bulwunt hurriedly, observing Fazil's irresolution. "Say quickly, Meah,—we have not a moment to lose."
"No, no! we are better here," replied Fazil. "The avowed knowledge of that secret might chance to be our death-warrant; and has not the King given him kowl? Let us watch still—we may gather further particulars; but to follow the King is madness. Listen! they are speaking." Again, therefore, they resumed their respective positions.
A few sticks had been thrown on the embers, and Maun Singh was kneeling down and blowing them into a flame, which, bursting through them in small flashes with every breath, partially illumined the figures around it and the blackened walls of the apartment. Pahar Singh sat with the gold coins before him, counting them one by one. A large portion were already laid on one side, which he proceeded to drop into the bag. The expression of his coarse and savage features could now be distinctly seen; for not only was the light from the fire becoming steady, but he had removed from his original position, so that he sat with his face nearly full towards Fazil, though from Bulwunt Rao he was more concealed than before. It was a face which, once seen, could never be forgotten. Men saw it and quailed before it: women saw it and shuddered: and Fazil remembered how often old Goolab, when he was yet a child, had frightened him by the mention of Pahar Singh: while tales of his occasional frays and bloody deeds were of everyday report in the bazar.
There, then, he sat. Turban he had none: his matted hair, twisted into a rough rope, was tied in a knot on the crown of his head, and covered with ashes, showing the high narrow forehead—on which, though crossed by deep wrinkles, the forked veins, swelled by his excitement, stood out like ridges, betokening passions wild, fierce, and uncontrollable. The eyes, always bright, glittered restlessly and suspiciously from beneath the heavy brows, to which, and to the lids, the white ashes, smeared on his face from time to time as he sat, had adhered; and his hard grin disclosed the prominent eye-teeth, which he chose to call tusks, in allusion to his name.
When we last saw this face at Itga, it was excited, but there was a softening influence exercised by the presence of his adopted son, and Pahar Singh was under some restraint. Now there was none, and it was difficult to recognize the features at all under his disguise, which served to increase the natural ferocity of the expression.