Barclay of the Guides Part 18

That night, under cover of the darkness, he sought out the house of the Maulavi Fazl Hak, who, while in high favour with the king, was secretly in the confidence of Rajab Ali Khan, the organizer of Hodson's spies. It was to him that Ahmed was to make his reports, and by him that the means of conveying his information to the British lines would be arranged. He was admitted to the presence of the maulavi, a man of dignified aspect, with eyes of particular brilliance. Fazl Hak was convinced from the first that the cause of the mutineers was hopeless, and advised the king many times during the siege to make his peace with the sahibs before it was too late.

"I am Ahmed Khan," said the visitor, after salutations had been exchanged, "and I bring greeting from the Maulavi Rajab Ali."

"Yes. You came in yesterday by the Ajmir gate."

"True," said Ahmed, somewhat surprised.

"And you took up your abode in the serai of Gopal Ali by the Moti Bazar."

"It is so," said Ahmed, wondering more and more.

"And you have sold goods to officers of the regiments of the Prince Mirza Mogul and Minghal Khan."

"All this is true," said Ahmed, feeling strangely uncomfortable; "and yet I know not how it reached your ears."

"That is no matter. It is my business to know things. And now, what can I do for you?"

"I would send a message to Hodson Sahib."

"Well, I have been asked to a.s.sist an Afghan trader named Ahmed Khan.

That was Rajab Ali's word. I will do all I can. Say on. What is the message?"

"I must say it to a muns.h.i.+, who will write with a pen what I speak with my lips."

"I will write. Speak."

Then Ahmed began, in the grave and earnest manner of one engaged in an important transaction, to describe what he had seen, and relate what he had heard. For some little while Fazl Hak wrote with the finest of pens, in diminutive characters, on paper so thin that Ahmed marvelled it was not pierced. The maulavi's grave face expressed nothing of what he thought; perhaps one who knew him better might have detected a slight twinkle beneath his veiling eyelids, and the play of his lips behind their curtain of beard. All at once he stopped writing, and looking up at Ahmed, said--

"Does a man cook eggs that are already eaten? This that you say, Ahmed Khan, is a twice-told tale. The oldest of your news went to the English three days ago; the newest, a little ere the gates were shut."

Ahmed flushed, and looked exceedingly abashed. He was chagrined at his failure, and annoyed that Fazl Hak had let him go on even so long dictating his stale news. Something in the maulavi's manner suggested that he was not wholly pleased at Ahmed's presence in Delhi. Perhaps he thought that his friend Rajab Ali might have consulted him before sending a new and untried spy into the city. And if this was indeed his feeling, how well, thought Ahmed, was it justified? Was this man omniscient, that nothing could escape him? Ahmed felt thoroughly disheartened. What could he do? He would only make himself foolish in the eyes of the sahibs if he sent them old news, even as he had already made himself foolish in the eyes of Fazl Hak.

"Go on," said the maulavi. "Let me write some new news."

"Of what use, O wise one? It were but waste of breath."

"Yet go on. Who can tell but that the wind may have carried one little seed to your ear?"

"A man was hanged to-day on a tree before the Kotwali, it being supposed he was concerned in the making of a mine that was discovered by the Kashmir gate."

"And a man in the garb of a fakir," said the maulavi, as if in continuance of the report, "was seized at the Ajmir gate, and it being suspected that he was a spy, he was killed. Go on."

"Bakht Khan with his force from Bareilly has halted at the tomb of Safdar Jang."

"That was yesterday. He is now at Ghaziabad. Go on."

"I will even go to my place, and trouble you no more until I have learnt somewhat that no one else can know. Is it not vain to pour water into a vessel that is already full?"

And then Fazl Hak laid down his pen and smiled. It was as though he was satisfied with having impressed Ahmed with a sense of his knowledge and of his own insignificance.

"Come, let us talk as friends," he said. "You are but a youth in these things, in spite of your beard." ("He does not know of my disguise, then," thought Ahmed; this was a little cheering.) "And for one who is but beginning you have not done amiss. I perceive that you have a quick eye and a ready ear, and if, when these troubles are over, you care to enter my service, without doubt you will in due time become the possessor of many rupees."

"I thank you," said Ahmed, the sting of his humiliation somewhat mollified; "but when I have found the hakim I shall return to my own place."

"The hakim! What is this about a hakim?"

The maulavi's evident surprise pleased Ahmed: here was something else that he did not know.

"I came not only to learn things about the rebels," he said, "but to discover the whereabouts of an English hakim who is concealed somewhere in the city--Craddock Sahib; maybe you know somewhat of him?"

"It was told me that he was slain. How know you that he is yet alive?"

"A chit was carried from him to his daughter in Karnal; therefore am I here."

"I knew it not, and it is good knowledge, for Craddock Sahib is a good hakim, and cured me of a fever."

"Then you will help me to find him?"

"That I cannot do; I have too much to do otherwise, and further, it might bring me into great peril. Already I run great risks. Is it not known who carried the chit?"

"A man who would say nothing, if indeed he knew anything. The missy sahib thought that her father might have been saved by one of his servants: the khansaman, Kaluja Da.s.s, seemed to be a true servant. Know you aught of him?"

"No. I know much, as you have perceived, but I do not know the whereabouts of every khansaman who served the English before the troubles. But I can soon discover."

He clapped his hands, and a chaprasi appeared. The maulavi gave him a few instructions in a low tone, and the man went out again.

"He will a.s.suredly learn what we desire to know. Until he returns refresh yourself. There are sherbets at your service, also a hookah."

Ahmed took the sherbets, but declined the hookah. In the course of an hour the man came back, and spoke apart with his master. Then he disappeared.

"It is vain," said Fazl Hak. "The khansaman has become a rebel. He serves Minghal Khan, who now occupies Craddock Sahib's house. The khansaman, Kaluja Da.s.s, is heard daily cursing the sahibs whom formerly he served, and verily he hates them above measure, or he would not have taken service with Minghal Khan. You must seek elsewhere for the preserver of the hakim. And if you find him, let me know; I would do somewhat for Craddock Sahib."

CHAPTER THE SIXTEENTH

The Coming of Bakht Khan

Ahmed left the house doubly disappointed--at his failure to supply any information worth carrying to the Ridge, and at the bad news concerning the khansaman. He had been full of confidence when he entered Fazl Hak's presence. His confidence had been rudely shaken, and further, he had now a certain feeling of personal insecurity which he had not before. Not that he had been unaware of the risks that he was running. If his disguise were penetrated, if his connection with the English was so much as suspected, he would be hanged or shot without mercy. But his peril had not come home to him as it did now, when he found that, so far from being unknown in Delhi, his every movement had been watched. If he was thus known to the maulavi, was it not possible that he was also being spied upon by agents of the mutineers? Might they not be giving him the rope by which to hang himself? As he pa.s.sed through the streets on the way back to his serai he felt that he was slinking along like a criminal. He seemed to see an enemy in every pa.s.ser-by.

But before he reached the serai he had partially got the better of this feeling. After all, Fazl Hak himself appeared to have no idea that the bearded Afghan who had stood before him was a youth in disguise. It was a pleasure to find a gap in that wise person's knowledge, and as for the mutineers, the summary manner in which they had disposed of the man caught at the Kashmir gate, and the disguised fakir at the Ajmir gate, disposed him to believe that if he were suspected he would not now be alive.

Though thus gaining rea.s.surance as to his safety, he had to confess that the discovery of Craddock Sahib seemed as far off as ever. He had counted much on the khansaman, and to find that the man was not only disloyal, but had actually taken service with one of the most malignant of the enemies of the sahibs, was much more than a disappointment. Since it appeared clear that the khansaman could have had no hand in the concealment of the doctor, he had no clue to follow, and to seek a hidden man without a clue in this immense city, with its labyrinths of streets and lanes, was a task that staggered him by its hopelessness.

After a night's rest, however, his fit of black despair had pa.s.sed. He awoke with a settled determination to do his utmost, not merely to find the hakim, but to prove to Fazl Hak and to Hodson Sahib that he was worthy of the mission entrusted to him. In his interview with the maulavi his self-esteem had received a wound--not a very serious one, as his good sense informed him, but still one that could only be healed by accomplishment. The question was, how to achieve his end? Obviously he could not force things; it seemed as though the most he could do was to be alert and vigilant, trusting that chance would throw an opportunity in his way.