This sent off, and the Rani's consent to his arrangements received and acknowledged, there was the durbar to attend, at which Kharrak Singh conferred his khilats and received his nazars in the most angelic manner, and it was zealously whispered about that Sher Singh had left the city under a complete misconception of the love and affection entertained for him by his brother, which would be proved by the honourable embassy sent to command his return, and the gifts that it would carry. One of these was to be the store of gold hidden by Charteris in the Residency precincts, which Gerrard had to disinter and pack for transport when he was left alone at night, so that a very small amount of sleep was all that he enjoyed before it was time to start in the morning. Kharrak Singh appeared on the chief state elephant to ride with him out of the city, and insisted on his coming up into the howdah. Late hours, early rising, grief at parting from Gerrard, and remorse for his own share in bringing this about, had combined to make the boy's frame of mind very far from ideal, and he alternated between threatening to behead Gerrard if he went, and hanging round his neck entreating to be taken with him. When the moment of parting came, his hands had to be forcibly unclasped, and he subsided on his cushions a limp and sobbing little bundle, only restrained from screams of passion by receiving leave to open the wrappers of any illustrated papers if Gerrard's mail came in during his absence.
The journey to Adamkot was not eventful. The two highly ornamented guns which accompanied the troops stuck once or twice in crossing rivers, and had to be hauled out by the elephants, and there was continuous murmuring among the soldiers against the speed of the march and the prohibition of plundering, but Gerrard did not trouble himself. Sher Singh was travelling light and fast, and it was natural that he should gain upon them, as inquiries at the various villages on the route assured them he was doing, but if the troops could do in three days what the fugitive had accomplished in two, it would be proof positive that no time had been lost in repairing the injury done him. When they camped on the second night, it was certain that this would be achieved, and Gerrard went to bed in good spirits after making the round of his outposts. The next day would see, he hoped, a grave difficulty settled by prompt grappling with it, and would bring him the breezy company of Charteris, and possibly the promise of good sport. His sleep was dreamless until an overmastering impression that tidings of disaster were arriving hotfoot awoke him. The sound of distant horses' feet was in his ears as he raised his head from the pillow, but when he sat up and listened he could hear nothing. His servant and the orderly sleeping close at hand protested in injured tones when he called to them that he had been dreaming, and so did the sentries supposed to be keeping watch on the outskirts of the camp, to whom he sent an inquiry without much hope of success.
"If any messenger arrives from Agpur, wake me and bring him here at once," he said as he lay down again. "Why, what a fool I am! The sound was coming the opposite way, I am sure. It must have been a dream."
No messenger arrived, and the rest of the march to Adamkot was made the next day. It was almost sunset when Gerrard drew rein and looked up at the great fort of reddish brick towering above him. He was riding in the bed of the river Tindar, here more than a mile wide, and now dry save for one small channel. When the river was in flood, Adamkot must stand on its very brink, but at present its sheer cliff rose from an expanse of sand and mud. It occupied the point of a tongue of high land formed by the river and a ravine, also dry, and a deep ditch guarded it at the only side on which level ground approached the walls. He wondered whether it would be necessary to make a toilsome march up the side ravine to reach the entrance, but Badan Hazari, pointing to a gateway at the top of the cliff, reached by a winding ascent from the foot, told him that this was the usual means of approach when the river was low. When it was high, a drawbridge was lowered over the ditch at the back. Gerrard sent off, therefore, his selected embassy, bearing a friendly letter from himself as well as that signed by the Rani, and inviting Sher Singh to receive him, that he might deliver the gracious gifts of the Rajah.
The embassy wound up the long path, entered the gateway, and returned, without Sher Singh, but with an elderly fakir, who was introduced as the Prince's private physician. With many apologies and compliments, he informed Gerrard that his master, cut to the heart by the Rajah's behaviour, had taken to his bed as soon as he reached home, and was too ill to be disturbed. He had turned his face to the wall, said the old man dramatically, and though he had laid the letters on his brow and eyes in token of gratitude, he had not even strength to read them at present. Would his beloved friend Jirad Sahib pardon his seeming discourtesy, and return to the capital, whither he would follow as soon as the life-giving influences of his sovereign's kindness had renewed his spirit? Gerrard expressed his sorrow at the Prince's illness, but offered to visit him and read the letters aloud, at the same time investing him with the khilat. But this was refused. Sher Singh's wounded spirit could not endure the sight of a stranger at present, it seemed, and he could only express his deep regret that for so unworthy an object Jirad Sahib should have interrupted his important labours, and entreat him to waste no more of his valuable time. There was not even a word said of lodging him and his escort in the fort for the night. Gerrard's anger rose.
"I came to see Sher Singh, and here I stay till I have seen him," he said. "We will pitch here, below the gateway, and see which of us will tire first."
[1] Grant, patent.
[2] Hathis, elephants.