“What does this mean, sir?” sputtered Mr Crayne, turning on his nephew. “How dare you accuse a British officer of plotting against you?” he demanded of the Sheikh.
“Because it is true,” was the calm answer. “Last night, as I returned from one of my journeys, I was attacked among the hills, not far from my fortress, by three men. The two in front I cut down with my sword; but the third, watching his opportunity while I was engaged with them, leaped upon me from behind, thinking to stab me in the back. But he knew not that I wear always under my garments a shirt of iron links, which has descended from one Sheikh-ul-Jabal to another since the founding of the brotherhood, and though the blow left a mark upon the mail, yet the dagger broke, and I took no hurt. I saw the man’s face in the moonlight as I turned round, and knew him to be one who had once been of the number of my disciples, but had broken his vows and stolen away. I would have slain him, but he was swift of foot, and my horse had been wounded by one of those who attacked in front, so that he escaped me, though I set the servants who came to my help to scour the neighbourhood for him. But one of the other men yet lived, and confessed to me before he died that he had been hired in the Alibad bazar by the Mirza Fazl-ul-Hacq, who was in the employ of Firoz Sahib at Shah Nawaz, to assassinate me, and upon him and his fellow both we found five gold mohurs of the Company’s money. Have I not need of protection, then?”
“What d’ye make of this, sir?” demanded Mr Crayne furiously of his nephew, and Ferrers pulled himself together.
“All I can say is, sir, that the Mirza came to me last night, and asked me to let him have two troopers. I understood he wanted to put some one out of the way, though I couldn’t make out who it was, and I threatened him with punishment, and told him to go to Jericho.”
“You let him go?” Mr Crayne’s voice was terrific. “And why, sir—why?”
Alas! Ferrers knew only too well why it was, but he could not disclose the reason. “Well, sir, he had not done anything, and I never thought of his going to work on his own account.”
“Yet you knew he was the kind of man who would commit a treacherous murder of the sort? You will do well to send to Shah Nawaz and have him arrested immediately, for your own sake.”
“I will go myself at once, if you will allow me, sir.” Ferrers spoke calmly; but as he left the durbar-room he saw ruin before him. He could only hope that the Mirza would not allow his desire for revenge to weigh against his personal safety, and would have made his escape before he arrived. If he had not, what was to be done? To connive at his getting away would be to confess himself an accomplice, to bring him to justice meant a full disclosure. If only the Mirza would have the sense to escape when he might!
Having disposed of this side-issue, Mr Crayne returned to the charge. He was not yet fully satisfied, although he was fairly convinced by this time that it was not Major Keeling who sat in front of him, baffling his inquiries so calmly.
“You appear to have a great regard for Major Keeling?” he said brusquely. “Why?”