“Leaving your friends to get your servants brought into court on suspicion of having made away with you, and your enemies to look for discrepancies in your accounts,” said Sir Dugald.
“It was all a long time ago; but I hope no one was hanged,” said Jahan Beg.
“No; there was no possible evidence against any of the servants, and people began to talk of suicide, and to accuse the fair Beatrice under their breath of driving you to desperation. In self-defence she let it become known that your last letter to her had talked much of going to the dogs and of a ruined life, but had contained no threats. Then public opinion veered round again to a certain extent; but the Commissioner accepted another post before very long.”
“And for that woman’s sake,” said Jahan Beg, fiercely, “I have lost everything. It is enough to make a man’s blood boil, Haigh. I am an alien and a renegade all the rest of my days on account of a woman for whom I have not now even a kindly thought.”
“We have all made fools of ourselves at one time or another,” said Sir Dugald, soothingly. “You have paid heavily enough for that madness of yours, Bigg, and now you can come back with us when we leave this place and get into the world again.”
“Not quite. I have given hostages to fortune, you see.”
“What? Oh, you have married a native?”
“Yes. My wife is the King’s cousin. She was a widow when I married her, and very rich—for this part of the world. She showed a slight disposition to exact a very rigid etiquette at first—expected me not to sit down in her presence without being invited, and so on, which might have led to friction if I had not explained my views clearly at once. We have never quarrelled since, and we never interfere with one another.”
“You have no children?” asked Lady Haigh.
“I have one daughter. She is married to Rustam Khan.”