Voices in the Night Part 44

It had not needed the grace to tell Lateefa that this was Aunt Khojee.

She must have gone out to draw water from the well down the lane, for the grace was followed by the sound of rapid, thirsty drinking. But why had she not drawn water as usual from the well in the women's courtyard? He must find out.

'G.o.d quench thy thirst, sister,' he said piously; then added, 'fear not, it is I, Lateef,' for she had given a startled cry and let fall the water-vessel, which, bottom upwards, gave out a _glug glug_ as the liquid escaped from its narrow neck, that was louder than her feeble attempt at sobbing, as she crouched up on the bed rocking to and fro.

It was all her fault, she was very wicked, she moaned; she had tried to go into the streets, she had tried to feel as if she were going to die, but she could not. And then the thirst had been so dreadful! But she had only opened the door for a little moment. Who would have thought of any one stepping in? And now he must go away, or she would kill him too. Why did he not go when it was the plague? He would surely die, and she did not want to kill any one else....

Lateefa could make out enough of her ramblings for comprehension, but he did not therefore flinch from the huddled-up figure, which was now faintly visible in the grey beginnings of dawn. The fear of death is not easily learned in the bazaars where, so long as it comes naturally, it scarcely excites comment. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and spat as Jan-Ali-shan had done in the garden; for that propitiatory offering to the dread destroyer is common to all races all over the world.

'Thou wouldst kill no more?' he echoed, his curiosity aroused. 'Who hast killed already? The Nawabin or Khadjee, or both?'

So once more, even there, he sat listening, listening, listening, while Khojee rambled through her tale of the green satin trousers, and her plan to save the Nawabin from being dragged away and poisoned, which had been frustrated by thirst. But who could have expected to want either food or drink----

Lateefa gave a sudden laugh. 'Lo! brave one!' he said, stooping to pick up the fallen water-vessel, 'and when thou hadst got the drink, thou didst spill it from sheer fright of a familiar voice! Of a truth, sister, women are made in bits like a conjurer's puzzle. It needs a man's wit to piece them together. Now think not, Khojee,' he continued warningly, 'to shut me out whilst I get thee water. If thou dost, I swear by my kites, I will go tell the _daghdars_ at the _horspital_ to come and poison Noormahal.'

The fantasy of his own threat amused him; yet it roused a sudden remembrance that others might, at least, tell the doctors; especially if, after the scene of last night, the door remained shut. The neighbours, in that case, would begin to talk. And then he recollected Burkut Ali's words, and wondered if the latter could possibly have been contemplating so vile a plan as giving false information. The Nawab himself would not consent. It was infamy. But if the Nawab was drunk?

The thought was disturbing, so, after Khojee, refreshed by the water, had apparently sunk into a profound sleep, he went outside, and, sitting on the door-lintel, prepared replies to the questionings which should surely come when folk began to go backwards and forwards to the well. He prepared, also, for the interview with the Nawabin which he meant to have by and by. He meant to tell her about the ring, as an inducement to common-sense; the common-sense of escaping, while she could, from evil to come.

As he sat, answering questions and pa.s.sing the time of day jauntily, he heard a faint knocking from within, a low-voiced 'Khojee! Khojee! art returned yet?' The Nawabin was therefore well; so, if Khojee woke the better for her sleep, the whole affair might be simple.

The sun rose, and so did Lateefa's spirits. He joked and laughed with the veiled serving-women, he played with the children when they began to drift out to the gutters, he even cast a gay remark or two into the air for the women who stood on the roofs gossiping. Soon they would be going down into the courtyards, the doors would be closed, and his opportunity for arguing the matter out with two foolish creatures would come.

Then, suddenly, the children stopped playing, the women scuttled to shelter, and Lateefa rose with an awful malediction in his heart.

Two Englishmen had come round the corner, and behind them was Burkut Ali.

Then he had done it! done this infamous thing!----

'It is a nuisance coming at the very beginning,' the English doctor was saying, 'but I can't help myself. And one can only hope it will give the lot a wholesome fright.'

His companion shook his head. 'Doubt it. And to tell the truth, I don't understand this request. There is hanky-panky, I feel sure.'

The speaker was Jack Raymond. By pure chance he had pa.s.sed the hospital on his morning ride just as the doctor was going out on this, his first search; and, remembering the scene in the king's pleasure-grounds, the latter had asked him to run his eye over the written request for inspection, so as to make sure there was no nonsense.

Thus the names of Khojeeya and Khadeeja had come to remind him of the silk bracelet, at that moment reposing with some bank-notes in his pocket. It was not in Jack Raymond to refuse such a lead over. He had felt, it is true, a trifle impatient at the necessity for accepting it, but even that feeling had vanished when Burkut Ali, who met them where the lane turned off from the bazaar, apologised for the Nawab's absence. The latter was too much overcome, he said, by the sacrifice of dignity required in thus proving his devotion to the _Sirkar_ in setting such a good example to others, to attend in person.

'Hanky-panky!' Jack Raymond had murmured under his breath, with a thanksgiving that he was there to prevent more villainy than could be helped.

Lateefa too, seeing _Rahman-sahib_, who was known to all attendants at the race-course, was glad of his presence also, but for a curiously different reason. He was glad, because _Rahman-sahib_ was, by repute, not only a real _sahib_, but, by repute also, he understood what people said thoroughly, and was therefore amenable to deception--that is to words generally, true or false; whereas wit was of no use with most Englishmen!

Jack Raymond's first remark, too, was rea.s.suring, since it betrayed suspicion of Burkut Ali's good faith.

'The door is _not_ closed against entrance,' he said sharply. 'Why was it said to be so?'

Burkut, who had brought a most venerable-looking villain of the royal house to back him up, appealed to the neighbours, who, already, had crowded out to join the rabble which the efforts of a couple of constables had not succeeded in keeping back. Were they not witness, he asked, that last night----

'It doesn't matter, Raymond,' said the doctor aside, 'I've got to get through with it now, and the quicker the better; so I'd rather have an open door than a shut one.' He slipped through the wicket as he spoke, and an odd murmur, half of horror, half satisfied curiosity, ran round the spectators.

It was true, then! The _Sirkar_ did do such things!

'There is no need for those two to come in; it isn't their house,'

objected Jack Raymond, as Burkut and the venerable villain prepared to follow. 'Stand back, _sahiban_,' he added in Hindustani; 'and sergeant, when the conservancy sweepers are through, close the wicket. This is not a public spectacle.'

True. Yet in a way the remark and action, spoken and done with the best intention, the kindest consideration, were a mistake. They left a crowd with nothing for its amus.e.m.e.nt but Khojee's screams of sheer terror as she woke to find the doctor feeling her pulse. They were heart-rending, dangerous screams; and Jack Raymond recognising this, and also the fact that the old lady was his pet.i.tioner of the garden, supplemented the doctor's commonplace 'Have no fear, mother' with something more ornate, in Persian, which changed the screams to piteous cries of, 'Poison me not! I will die! Yea, I will die without poison!'

And this being almost worse, he tried the effect of showing her the _ram rucki_, and asking if a bracelet-brother was likely to do her any injury; finally, as she only seemed to grasp his meaning vaguely, he fastened the silken cord on her wrist.

Its touch was magical. She clutched at the hand that had put it on, and the cries died down to a whimper.

'Lo, my brother! Lo, my brother, my brother! Tell them I can die. Let them give me time, and I will die! Yea, with time I can die, as well as with poison.'

It was impossible to avoid a smile; the doctor, indeed, laughed cheerily. 'No doubt about that, mother,' he said to her in a relieved tone of voice, 'but not just yet. You haven't got the plague. And you haven't it either,' he continued, turning to Lateefa. 'That is two of you--one woman and a servant. Now, if you can show me the other two inmates in like case, I can give a clean bill. So where are they? In here, I suppose.'

He pa.s.sed towards the inner door, but Lateefa was there before him.

Sharp as a needle, the doctor's words had made him see that Noormahal, alone, would be no good. There must be two women, or the tragedy of the green satin trousers would be as surely discovered as if poor Khadjee had not been buried; and that would mean a segregation camp, at best, for all three of them. It might be impossible to hoodwink the _sahibs_, but he could try. So he appealed volubly to Jack Raymond. This was infamy, as the _Huzoor_ knew, to secluded dames. It had to be, of course; but let it be done in the easiest way. Let the sick woman--she was none so ill but that she could do so much for humanity's sake--go in first and tell of the _Huzoor's_ kindness; of how he was a bracelet-brother (Lateefa had, of course, grasped this fact without in the least understanding how it had happened); no doubt she would be able to persuade the secluded ones to come out for inspection, and that would be less disgrace than the invasion by male things of their sacred isolation.

Jack Raymond watched the keen audacious face narrowly; then once more he said aside to the doctor, 'Hanky-panky! That sick woman is as much secluded as the others; but I'd let her go. Give them a free hand and they will be quieter, if we find them out. Anything is better than hunting them down, poor souls!'

Lateefa, therefore, much to his inward delight--also contempt!--was allowed free instructions to Aunt Khojee, while the search-party stood aside.

'We can t let 'em down easier, can we?' said the doctor as he waited; and Jack Raymond shook his head despondently.

'No,' he answered, 'but it's a brutal business all the same--to their notions, and you can't change _them_ in a hurry.'

Meanwhile Lateefa's instructions ran in this fas.h.i.+on. Khojee was to tell Noormahal that the big Lord-_sahib_ had sent the bracelet-brother to fetch her to a private interview. That the state _dhoolies_ were waiting. That all was of the strictest ceremonial. On that point she had a free hand. She was to say anything which would induce the Nawabin to come out. And she herself was to change her dress swiftly and personate Khadjee. It was a chance--the _Huzoors_ might not think of seeing the three women together. So, with a parting admonition to be brave, he pushed the tottering Khojee through the inner door, closed it, and turned to the two Englishmen appealingly.

'The _Huzoors_ must give time, for it is as death to n.o.ble ladies to see strangers; but the old woman will tell them that the _Huzoors_ are as their fathers and mothers. May G.o.d promote them to be Lords!'

'Hanky-panky!' remarked Jack Raymond again, 'but it can't do any harm.'

'No,' a.s.sented the doctor.

There was no one there to remind them that that is a formula which can never be safely used in India, or to repeat, as Grace Arbuthnot had repeated, a lifelong experience embodied in the words--'You can never tell.'

'They are a long time coming,' said the doctor aggrievedly. He was up to his eyes in work, and he had waited five minutes, ten minutes, patiently, silently. So had the crowd outside silently, but impatiently.

'_Huzoor!_' protested Lateefa from the door, 'to n.o.ble ladies it is as death----'

He broke off, for a sudden shriek rose from within; another; another; and above them a woman's voice shrill, awful, in its intensity of scorn--

'Lies! Lies! Lies! Stand back, fool, thief, liar!' And mixed with these words were others in agonised appeal--'Nay! Noormahal! Lateef? Help!

G.o.d and his prophet! Thou shalt not! Noormahal!'

Lateefa seemed paralysed--uncertain what to do. But Jack Raymond, the doctor at his heels, had the door open. They were through it in a second. His first glance within, however, made the former grip the latter's arm with a grip of iron, and whisper breathlessly--

'Keep still, man; it's the only chance.'

For, in the centre of that inner courtyard, standing--arrested for a second by the opening of the door--on the parapet of the wide wall, was a tall white-robed figure, its face distorted by pa.s.sion, its black eyes blazing.