“Keep cool, Major,” interjected Sir Dugald.
“You will not improve your cause by this violence, sir,” said Mr Crayne, relieved from his imminent fear of a personal assault. “I understand that Captain Ferrers’ attention was first drawn to your proceedings when he was following your advice and paying visits at night to different parts of his district to see that the patrols worked properly. It is for him to say what he has seen, and for you then to justify yourself. Captain Ferrers, you will be good enough to repeat what you told me some nights ago.”
Ferrers told his story, Major Keeling gathering up his sword and creeping to and fro with noiseless steps and set face, in a way which reminded the Commissioner unpleasantly of a tiger stalking its prey. When Ferrers ceased speaking, he turned upon Mr Crayne.
“I fancy I could shed a little light on the beginning of that story,” he said, with restrained fury, “but I won’t ask any questions now. You accuse me of personating the Sheikh-ul-Jabal, and applying his allowance from the Company to my own use. Perhaps you accuse me of murdering him as well?”
“No,” murmured Sir Dugald, as no one answered, “they ‘don’t believe there’s no sich a person.’”
“Well, there is only one way of clearing myself, and that is to produce the Sheikh-ul-Jabal. I’ll have him here, dead or alive, before sunset, if I have to pull Sheikhgarh stone from stone to get him.”
“By all means,” said Mr Crayne. “The course you suggest would be far more effective than any amount of shouting.”
“Wait until you are accused as I am before you talk of shouting,” was the explosive answer. “Haigh, come with me.”
“Oh, what is it? what is it?” cried Lady Haigh and Penelope together as the two men emerged from the room.
“It’s a fiendish plot,” said Major Keeling. “Don’t come near me, Lady Haigh. If I have done what they say, I have no business to breathe the same air with you and Miss Ross.”