“But they do think something of the sort, I believe,” he said. “At least, when I was present at a tribal jirgah the other day, an old Malik from a distance remarked that as he had not seen me before, it would be very consoling to him if I would give a slight exhibition of my powers. He would not ask for anything elaborate—if I would just breathe fire for a minute or two, or something of that kind, it would be enough. I told him I wasn’t a mountebank, and the rest hustled and scolded him into silence. But after that very meeting another old fellow, who had been most forward in nudging the first one, and had looked tremendously knowing as he told him that fire-breathing was not a custom of the English, got hold of me alone, and whispered, ‘You won’t forget, Highness, that on the night of which I may not speak you promised I should ride at your right hand when the time comes?’ Without thinking, I said, ‘If the night is not to be spoken of, why do you speak of it?’ and the old fellow stammered, ‘Between you and me, I thought it was no harm, Heaven-born,’ and after that I could get no more out of him. Whatever I asked him, he thought I was trying to test him, and took a pride in keeping his mouth shut.”
“It really is most mysterious,” said Lady Haigh, “and might be most embarrassing. Do you think you go about paying visits to Maliks in your sleep, Major Keeling? Because, you see, you might do all sorts of queer things as well.”
“I know nothing whatever about it—it is totally inexplicable,” said Major Keeling shortly, rising as he spoke. “I am sorry to break up your party, Lady Haigh, but Captain Ferrers and I have some business together, and he ought to be on the way back to his station before very long.”
Seeing that he was not to escape, Ferrers followed the Commandant, and passed a highly unpleasant half-hour in his company. From a scathing rebuke of the criminal carelessness which had led to the late regrettable incident, Major Keeling passed to personalities.
“What have you been doing to yourself?” he asked sharply. “You ought to be as hard as nails with the life you lead at Shah Nawaz. But perhaps you don’t lead it. You look like a Bengal writer.”
“With this examination in view——” began Ferrers with dignity.
“Hang these examinations! They spoil the good men and make the bad ones worse. I’ll have no one up here who would sacrifice his real work to them. If you can’t keep your studies to the hot hours, when you young fellows think it’ll kill you to go out, better give them up. Your munshi must be a queer sort if he’s willing to work all day with you. Who is he, by the bye? Fazl-ul-Hacq?—not one of the regular Bab-us-Sahel munshis, surely? Next time you come in, make some excuse to bring him with you, and I’ll have a look at him. He never seems to be forthcoming when I hunt you up at Shah Nawaz, and when a man keeps out of sight in that way it doesn’t look well. You think he’s all right, I suppose?”
Now was Ferrers’ chance. With one effort he might break with his old life and throw off the Mirza’s yoke, exchanging his solitary indolence at Shah Nawaz for the incessant activity which was the portion of all who worked under Major Keeling’s own eye. But to do this he must confess to the man he disliked that he felt himself unfit for responsibility, and that he had practically betrayed the trust reposed in him. Moreover, not a man in the province but would believe he had been deprived of his command as a punishment. This thought was decisive, and he answered quickly—
“Yes, sir; I believe he is an excellent teacher, and he makes himself useful as a clerk when I want one.”
“Well, don’t let him become indispensable. That plays the very mischief with these fellows. They think they’ve got the Sahib under their thumb, and can do as they like, and very often, when it’s too late, the Sahib finds out that it’s true. Give your man his rukhsat [leave to depart] in double quick time if you see that he’s inclined to presume.”