The Path to Honour

by Sydney C. Grier

THE SUPERFLUOUS CHARTERIS.

"Is it true that we ride to Agpur, sahib?" Badan Hazari, coming to report the troop ready for the march, lingered to ask the question.

"It is true. See to it that we take our place in the procession on the right of the elephant bearing the Rajah's body. Prince Sher Singh will ride on the left, but on no account are his followers to be permitted to surround the corpse."

"It is an order, sahib. But they say that the man Sher Singh desires to dissuade your honour from going to Agpur, and that he has given you much abuse."

"Evil heart, evil tongue, Sirdar-ji. Yet I go to Agpur, though I would have bidden you and the troop return to Darwan, had I not known that this would be to insult you."

The Granthi made a horrified gesture of aversion. "Black indeed would our faces be!" he said. "Trust me, sahib, there will be a great killing before your slaves go down before the onslaught of the Agpuri mongrels. But is your honour well advised in remaining here until the march begins?"

"I am at the Rani's disposal, and must wait for any orders she is pleased to give. But send hither Mohammed Jan with some food, for I am not minded to eat what is prepared in this camp."

"Your honour is wise," said Badan Hazari, and before long the servant arrived, carrying a tray, and escorted by two stalwart troopers. Gerrard ate and drank eagerly, for he had taken nothing since rising, and it would be necessary to scrutinise all food and drink very carefully for poison during the next two or three days. Having dismissed Mohammed Jan, he summoned to a conference Rukn-ud-din, the officer second in command of the Rajah's bodyguard, since old Sarfaraz Khan was evidently not to be trusted. With this man he arranged that the litters containing the Rani and her son and the other inmates of the zenana should follow immediately after the elephant carrying the corpse, surrounded by the guards, so that Gerrard and his men, in their station on the right of the animal, would be continuously in touch with them, and either party would be ready to help the other in case of emergency. Then, having taken all the precautions he could think of, he could only wait patiently until the worst heat of the day was over, and the time came for the start. His reflections were not particularly pleasant as he mounted his horse at last. Sher Singh had no doubt spent the intervening hours in strengthening his hold on the court and the troops by means of lavish promises, which the Englishman durst not emulate as yet, since his power to fulfil them would depend upon his gaining a peaceful and undisturbed entrance to the palace. Badan Hazari and the officer of the bodyguard had carried out their instructions most dexterously, and Sher Singh appeared resigned to his inferior position, but there was obvious resentment among the rest of the troops at the impudence of the Feringhee in putting himself forward. When their numbers were reinforced by the notoriously violent mob of Agpur, they would easily overwhelm the little force of Ranjitgarh troopers and the guards loyal to the Rani. The situation was practically hopeless, since safety hung upon the very slender thread of Sher Singh's judgment. Would his self-interest prompt him to avoid at all costs bringing down upon himself British vengeance, or to snatch the immediate advantage of wiping out all his opponents at one blow, and taking the consequences? Since this was the course likely to commend itself to the people of Agpur, there could be little doubt how he would decide. Yet Gerrard had no choice, if he was to keep his promise to Partab Singh at all. Had he taken the road to Darwan with his escort, he might eventually have returned at the head of larger forces, but it would have been to find that the Rani had been drugged and hurried to the funeral pyre, and that Kharrak Singh had "died of grief"—little likely as the vivacious youngster appeared to succumb to such a fate.

The heat of the day was by no means over, though it was late in the afternoon, and actual bodily discomfort almost blotted out thought as Gerrard rode on through the dust, the landscape ahead one blinding glare of trembling, moving lines. He was on the sunny side of the elephant, and on the other Sher Singh seemed to find shade enough to stimulate his inventive faculties. At any rate, he was talking loudly to his friends, and the words which Gerrard overheard occasionally assured him that they were devising unpleasant experiences for him. Beside him the great beast swung patiently along, and behind came the zenana litters, their golden draperies covered by way of mourning with coarse cotton cloth, so as to shut out every possible breath of air. The towers and minarets of Agpur began at last to grow visible through the wavering haze, and Gerrard realised that a grove of trees surrounding a saint's tomb, which they were approaching, would be the scene of a halt to rearrange the procession and enable it to enter the city with proper dignity. There might even be troops waiting there, summoned by Sher Singh when he found himself worsted in the moral combat, and in that case the struggle would take place immediately, and could have but one result. Gerrard felt that he really did not much mind how soon it came, but he roused himself angrily from the lethargy which was creeping over him, and called up Badan Hazari and Rukn-ud-din to acquaint them with his intention of seizing the tomb if there was any sign of hostilities, and getting the corpse and the women into the courtyard, where the guard might close the gates and defend them for a time. Even as he spoke, the outlines of the trees became clearer, and he saw that there were certainly mounted men waiting under their shadow. He was turning to give the order which would have sent Badan Hazari and half his men to drive Sher Singh from the other side of the elephant, and turned the stately procession into a wild rush for the tomb, when it struck him that one of the men under the trees wore the curtained forage-cap of a European. Hardly able to believe his eyes, he rode forward a little, and as he did so. Bob Charteris, comparatively cool and apparently quite comfortable, came out from under the trees to meet him. Gerrard had no words of greeting at command.

"How many men have you?" he asked hoarsely.