The letter was written roughly in pencil on a large sheet of rough and discoloured paper:—
"To Lieutenant Robert Charteris, at Dera Gauleeb Khan or wherever he may be.
"MY DEAR CHARTERIS,—I am sorry to say that the fat's in the fire at last. This morning the Rajah invited us to go out with him to his garden-house, but did not send an elephant for us, as we expected. However, we rode to meet him, with a small escort. Honestly, I cannot tell whether he is to blame for what happened, or not, but at the beginning it certainly looked like an accident. There was a certain amount of confusion when we met on the way to the city gate, and the respective escorts found some difficulty in clearing a path through the crowds. Suddenly a wild fanatic of some sort—an Akaulee I should say—dashed at me from behind with a sword, and fairly knocked me off my horse. I have a cut on the head, but my hat turned the blade. There was a horrid tumult, and soldiers and people were pressed this way and that, forcing Cowper away from me. I got two or three more blows as I lay on the ground, but one of our horsemen dragged me to my feet. I saw that Sher Sing's hotties had turned tail and were in full retreat, but it did not occur to me he was leaving us to our fate until his horsemen charged back through the crowd and made straight for Cowper. He was cut down in an instant, and I saw them hacking at him before I could rally the escort. When we got through to him things looked pretty bad, for the horsemen withdrew only to come down on us afresh, and the crowd were siding with them, while all sorts of missiles began to rain from the roofs. Then old Sudda Sookhee turned up and threw himself into the breach—ordered the troops back, harangued the mob, and took us up on his own hotty. He thought it unsafe for us to go back to the Residency, in which I quite agreed with him, in view of the attitude of Sher Sing and his guards, so I decided that we should throw ourselves into the tomb of Rutton Sing outside the walls, and hold it till assistance arrived. Without Sudda Sookhee's support we could never have got through the gate, and as it was, they fired at us with matchlocks from the walls. He took us straight to the tomb, and then hurried back to see how things were going at the Residency. Before noon we were joined by the rest of our escort, who had been turned out of the fort without ceremony, but allowed to march through the city unmolested. The native apothecary has done his best for poor Cowper and me. My hurts are merely scratches, but he is badly cut about, though quite cheerful. I need not ask you to relieve us as soon as possible, as you will know that Rutton Sing's tomb is not a first-rate position for defence. I have sent a warm remonstrance to the Rajah, demanding that he shall visit us in person and express his regret for the outrage, but I repeat frankly that I do not understand his attitude. Still, you will see the importance of keeping a stiff upper lip. Cowper begs that Mrs Cowper may not be alarmed about him, as he expects (he says) to be up and about again before you turn up. We rely on you to arrive with all convenient speed. It is possible that the situation is more serious than appears.—Very sincerely yours,
RICHD. NISBET."
Gerrard read the letter through, turning the paper this way and that to find the carefully numbered additions written in the margin or crossing the sheet. Poor Nisbet! how thoroughly he must have been thrown off his balance before he would consent to send off a rough draft like this instead of making a fair copy—such was his first involuntary reflection. Then his mind awakened suddenly to a realisation of the perilous plight of the two men and their escort. Ratan Singh's tomb! it was the very tomb in the grove, within sight of the walls of Agpur, where he himself had purposed to make a hopeless stand over Rajah Partab Singh's dead body, in defence of Partab Singh's wife and son, and where Charteris had appeared in the nick of time to save him. The place could not be held, there was no hope of that, even if it were properly provisioned, and the letter was dated two days ago. If Sher Singh were indeed a traitor—and his conduct would need a good deal of explanation if it was to be ascribed to mere cowardice—Nisbet and Cowper's position was more than serious, it was desperate. And there sat Charteris, listening with knitted brows to the lucubrations of the witnesses in this dispute over stolen cattle, pulling them up sharply when their flights of imagination became more than usually daring, and apparently oblivious alike of the disappointed messenger squatting in the corner and of the men relying upon him outside Agpur. Gerrard's breath came faster, and he wondered whether he could frame a plausible excuse for getting out of the tent and starting immediately on his return journey to Habshiabad. If Charteris was at a loss what to do, Sadiq Ali and the Rani would joyfully send every fighting man they possessed to deal a blow at Sher Singh. Suddenly Charteris turned round.
"You are precious bored by all this, I can see," he said casually. "Never mind; it will soon be over now. Take a cigar," and as he held out the case, his fingers again met Gerrard's with that warning pressure. His friend accepted the cheroot, and resigned himself to further waiting. It was not for long. Charteris's brief summing-up was masterly, so incisive, so searching, so constantly punctuated with popular proverbs and familiar references to the domestic affairs of the litigants, that it drew applause from both sides. Then he pronounced judgment, and the winning side rent the air with their shouts, while the losing party threw dust on their heads and lamented that they had ever been born. They went off peacefully enough, however, and fraternised with their late opponents over a sheep sent out to them by Charteris, while the two Englishmen, alone at last, faced one another in the hot shade of the tent.
"Bob, I don't think you realise how bad it is," said Gerrard hurriedly. "They can't hold out in Ratan Singh's tomb if they are attacked with anything like vigour. We have lost too much time already."
"Steady, old boy. No harm done. There's no starting until just before sunset, unless you think sunstroke all round would improve the efficiency of the relieving force. We have all afternoon for making arrangements."
"But we have wasted a full hour when we might have been laying our plans."
"Plans are laid all right. Got 'em here," said Charteris, tapping his forehead. "What! you thought I was wholly engrossed in my family of perjurers? Purely mechanical, my boy—interest and interruptions and all. Brain working like clockwork at more than railroad speed the entire time. Everything cut and dried. Start to-night for Dera Galib to pick up my men. But those two poor chaps must have a letter to hearten them up at once. The kasid can move faster than we can, so we'll have him in and question him a little before writing. Must pay our Mr James the compliment of passing on the news, and enlightening him as to our intentions, too."