Penelope laughed, not quite convinced, and the conversation was interrupted by the reappearance of Maadat Ali, heading a procession of women-servants bearing dishes. These were duly arranged on a small low table, and the guests were invited to partake, the boy watching over their comfort most assiduously. When the meal was over he delivered them solemnly into the charge of old Zulika, adjuring her to see that they wanted for nothing, as she dreaded the Sheikh’s anger. The old woman, on her part, seemed genuinely anxious to efface the impression of Wazira Begum’s rudeness, and bustled about with a will, dragging in another charpoy, and bringing rolls of bedding. She apologised to Lady Haigh for not coming herself to sleep at the door of the room; but her place was always with her young mistress, and she would send Hafiza, the servant next in seniority to herself, to wait upon the visitors. Her excuses were graciously accepted, for Lady Haigh and Penelope were both feeling that after the exertions and anxieties of this exciting day, tired nature stood much in need of restoration. They tried to talk for a moment when they had settled themselves in their unfamiliar beds, but both fell asleep with half-finished sentences on their lips.
They were roused in the morning by the voice of Maadat Ali, in the passage outside their room, eagerly inquiring of old Hafiza whether the Memsahibs were not awake yet; and as he gave them little chance of going to sleep again, they thought it better to get up. Tired and stiff as they were, it was a little disconcerting to remember that riding-habits were perforce their only wear. Happily these were not the brief and skimpy garments of to-day, but richly flowing robes, long enough almost to reach the ground when the wearer was in the saddle, and their straw hats and blue gauze veils were also devised with a view to comfort rather than smartness. Clothes-brushes and hair-brushes were alike unknown at Sheikhgarh, so that dressing was a work of some difficulty; and it was rather a shock to find that the frugal breakfast of chapatis and hard-boiled eggs, which was brought in when they asked for food, was regarded as a piece of incredible luxury. After breakfast they went to the curtain which separated the zenana from the great hall to speak to Murtiza Khan, who had already been out with some of the Sheikh’s men to look for the deserters of the night before, but had not been able to find any trace of them. He brought the news that the Nalapuri army had been seen on its march round the southern extremity of the hills, moving towards Alibad—which showed that Sir Dugald had not been wrong in thinking there was no time to waste. The trooper also desired permission to reconnoitre in the direction of the town by the usual route, in case it might prove possible to get through with the news of the ladies’ safety, and this Lady Haigh granted before she turned back into the zenana with Penelope.
The women’s apartments were built round a small inner courtyard, gloomy in the extreme from its want of outlook, but possessing a tank of rather stagnant water which was called a fountain, and some shrubs in pots. In the verandahs round this court the whole life of the place was carried on, the servants—all of them women of a discreet age—performing all their duties in the open, to the accompaniment of much chattering. Among them moved, or rather flashed, Maadat Ali, questioning, meddling, calling down endless explosions of wrath on his devoted head, but undoubtedly brightening the days of the old ladies whom he alternately coaxed and defied. When he saw the visitors he left the servants at once, and after ordering a carpet to be spread for the Memsahibs, seated himself cross-legged on the ground, with his back against the coping of the tank, and began to ask questions. His subject was Major Keeling, whose brief visit more than a year before seemed to have left a vivid impression. Was it true that Kīlin Sahib was invulnerable to bullets, that he could make water flow uphill or rise from the ground at his word, that he could read all the thoughts of a man by merely looking him in the face? These inquiries and many others had been answered, when a peculiar look on the boy’s face made Lady Haigh turn round. Behind her, leaning against the wall of the house, stood Wazira Begum, twisting a spray of mimosa in her fingers, and trying to look as if she had not been listening to what had passed. Lady Haigh rose and saluted her politely, prompting Penelope to do the same, and after a moment’s hesitation the girl returned the salutation courteously, if a little sulkily. It was evident that the meeting of the night before was to be ignored, and Maadat Ali made room for his sister joyfully at his side.
“I knew she would come when she heard us talking about Kīlin Sahib,” he said. “She hates him very much.”
“Yes, very much,” echoed Wazira Begum.
“When he came here,” pursued the boy, “she tried very hard to make him afraid; but he would not be afraid, and therefore she hated him even more than before. She has part of a tassel that she cut from his sword——”
“From his sword? Oh, from the sword-knot,” said Lady Haigh.
“And she keeps it wrapped up in linen, like an amulet——”
“Thou liest!” burst forth Wazira Begum furiously.
“But I saw it, O my sister, and thou didst tell me it was to make a great charm against him, to destroy him.”