“I also suspected evil, sahib, but having sent two of the servants’ sons in with lights, I was content when they found nothing.”
“I hope you nailed the boards firmly into their places?”
“I put them back, sahib, but why fasten them? There was no man inside, and in case any should seek to enter, the hole should be blocked up from within, not from without. Moreover, if the protector of the poor would invite Winlock Sahib to bring his sporting dog to the house, with your honour’s own dogs we might succeed in killing all the rats before mending the floors.”
“Good idea! Ask the memsahib to give you a chit to Winlock Sahib. No; it had better be to-morrow. I shall be out all to-day.”
Ismail Bakhsh salaamed and departed, and Dick returned to his dressing, neither of them dreaming that they were separated by nothing but a half-inch plank from a man who had listened to the whole of their colloquy. The bungalow, which had never been intended for a permanent dwelling, had been run up in haste. Hence the contrast of its somewhat ramshackle appearance with that of the substantial stone houses in the cantonments, and hence also the perpetual worry caused by the colonies of rats inhabiting the space under the floors, which should have been filled up with concrete. However, since innumerable complaints and remonstrances had brought nothing but vague promises and an occasional snub from those in authority, Dick and Georgia continued to live on in their unsatisfactory dwelling, and to wage intermittent warfare against the rats. But the rats could not fairly be accused of the worst of the damage of which Ismail Bakhsh complained, for crouched under the boards lay the sweetseller, who had effected an entrance by sliding out one of the planks from the front of the verandah and pulling another aside, returning them to their places when he had crawled in. His dark face paled when Ismail Bakhsh suggested bringing the dogs, but when he heard Dick postpone the rat-hunt to the next day, he breathed freely again.
“To-day is all I want,” he said to himself. “When I have once got the paper for Jehanara Bibi from that accursed half-blood my work is done, and Nāth Sahib may set his dogs on my track as much as he likes—and his sowars too.”
He remained crouched in his lair all morning, until the Commissioner had dismissed his clerks and hobbled round to the other side of the house to look for Mabel. As soon as the sound of his crutch had become inaudible in the distance, there was a hesitating tap on one of the loose boards. It was answered by a bolder knock from below, the board was pushed slightly aside, and a yellow hand, trembling as if with ague, passed a roll of papers through the crack. The sweetseller seized it, and pressed the fingers of the transmitter, which were hurriedly withdrawn. The hidden man secreted the papers carefully in his clothing, and crawled round to the front of the house, whence he could watch through a peep-hole all that went on in this part of the compound. When noon was come, and the servants had all betaken themselves to their own quarters, he removed the sliding plank and slipped out, bringing with him his stock in trade, and replaced the board carefully. Having assured himself that Dick was nowhere to be seen, he crossed the compound boldly, climbed the wall at a point where various projecting stones and convenient hollows afforded a foothold, and walked with dignified haste to the nearest sandhill. On the farther side of this he buried his tray and his sweets in the sand, and then, girding up his loins, set out resolutely in the direction of Dera Gul.
Dusk had already fallen when he reached the fortress, where he received a respectful greeting from the ragged guards, who informed him that the chief was in his zenana. As soon as the news was brought that Narayan Singh had returned, however, Bahram Khan sent word that he should be admitted immediately—a high honour which was not seldom the reward of the indispensable spy. Committing himself to the guidance of one of the slave-boys, Narayan Singh passed behind the curtain and into the anteroom, to discover Bahram Khan reclining upon the divan in the easiest possible undress. The pleasant murmur of the hubble-bubble, as he approached, prepared the visitor to find the room full of smoke, and his master seemed at first too much engrossed with his pipe to notice his entrance. Cross-legged in the corner sat the Eurasian Jehanara, shrouded in her veil, her glittering eyes reflecting the faint light which was shed by a brazier of glowing charcoal.
“Peace, Narayan Singh!” said the Prince at last, taking the mouthpiece of the long leathern tube lazily from his lips. “Is all well?”
“All is well, Highness. I have here a copy of the report of Barkaraf Sahib to the Sarkar, from the hands of his confidential clerk.”