“The friend is pledged to pay no attention to them. After the lapse of a certain time, he will employ the riches in building tombs—greater and more magnificent than the wonder of Agra—to the memory of the Sahib and his sister, where women desiring sons may come and entreat the lady’s favour.”
“To my mind it is better to enrich the living than build tombs for the dead,” said the baffled chief sourly.
“It is the Sahib’s pleasure, and who shall gainsay it? But far more gladly would he bestow of his wealth on any who could restore to him his sister living, or even tell him where she may be found.”
“The rain of riches passes over the field of the poverty-stricken, and leaves on it not a single drop. Since we have nothing to sell that you and your Sahib desire to buy, leave us our poor wreck that the waters have brought us, and go your way—unless,” with a fresh gleam of hope and covetousness, “the wealthy and high-born Sahib will deign to visit our tents?”
“Nay, he is bent on an errand of life and death. He has no time to pass the coolness of sherbet over his tongue, nor to exchange sweet phrases with a host,” was the answer, much to Brian’s disappointment. He remonstrated vigorously with the tracker when they had left the derelict—which was far too much damaged for them to think of salving it—and returned to their own boat. It was quite certain that this little knot of Kajias knew more than they would tell; what was more likely than that the passengers from the stranded boat were at hand in their very camp? Puggy answered patiently and reprovingly.
“Surely the eyes of the presence are blinded by his grief, or he would see that the Beebee cannot be in this camp. For see the chief, that son of Iblis with whom we have just spoken—whose meat is covetousness and his drink extortion—did he not desire to bring the presence thither, in the hope of falling treacherously upon him and holding him to ransom? And if the Beebee were there already, would the chief not show, for a lure to the presence, some writing from her hand, were it but a scrawl with a blackened stick upon a broken board from the boat?—or if she were dead, then some jewel from her body, or even a tress of her hair, that the presence might recognise his truth? But he brings forward nothing; therefore it is certain she is not there. Yet he knows more than he pretends, as the presence says.”
“That he does! ’Twas a bad slip when he admitted he knew the Major Sahib was sick.”
“Was that all the presence noticed? Nay,” as Brian turned and looked at him, “did he not note the kurti [long coat] worn by the chief, that it was of rich silk such as the Parsees wear, and that it had been washed? Or that one of the men who stood up in the bushes had in his girdle such a knife as the Farangis use at table, with a haft of ivory nearly as long as the blade? There was more in the boat when it came ashore than there is now.”
“Then what do you make out?”
“Nay, Sahib, how can I speak with certainty? All I can say is that if the Beebee was on board, and was saved when the boat ran aground, she must have been carried away quickly to the hills. But it is not clear to my mind that she was there at all. It is possible, but I have seen nothing to prove it.”