One Maid's Mischief Part 52

"I don't see why you should take up the cudgels so fiercely on Miss Perowne's behalf, Mr Harley," said the little lady, quietly.

"That is beside the question," he retorted, "and I ask you again, do you think this true?"

"I told you beforehand, Mr Harley," replied the lady, "that I was no doubt very much prejudiced, and I believe I am; but I am at least frank and plain, and repeat, that after due consideration it does wear that aspect to me."

"Speak out, Mrs Bolter, please," said the father. "I will have no reservations."

"It is a time, Mr Perowne, when I feel bound to speak out, and without reservation. I grieve to say that Miss Perowne's whole conduct has been such as to lead any thoughtful woman to believe that what I say is true."

There was a murmur of a.s.sent here from the ladies present.

"You are in the minority, Miss Stuart," said the Resident, gravely, as he turned to Grey, who, pale of face and red-eyed, was now and again casting reproachful glances at the severe-looking little lady, "and I thank you for what you have said."

"I'm beginning to think myself that the wife is right," said Dr Bolter.

"She tells me she has been making inquiries amongst the Malay women-- many of whom we know from their coming up to our house for help. They are very friendly towards us; and if there was anything in the Murad theory they would have known, and let it out. You are wrong, my dear.

I'm afraid you are wrong."

Grey raised her eyes to the doctor's with quite a fierce look, and she turned red and pale by turns ere she answered, loyally:

"No, I am not wrong. Helen would not have been guilty of such an act.

I know her too well. Neither," she added, in a lower voice, "would Captain Hilton."

"Brave little partisan," said the Resident, sadly. "You and I will fight all Helen Perowne's detractors. As you say," he cried, raising his voice, and a warm flush showing through his embrowned skin, "it is impossible!"

Mr Perowne had been called from the room before the discussion a.s.sumed quite so personal a nature, and now he returned, gazing piteously from one to the other as he was asked whether there was any news.

"This suspense is terrible!" he moaned. "Harley, Bolter, pray do something! My poor child!--my poor child!"

There was a sympathetic silence in the now crowded room, as the occupants waited for one of the gentlemen to speak, Dr Bolter looking at his wife, as if to ask, "What shall I say?" and receiving for response a shake of the head.

"The Rajah must, I am sure," cried Mr Perowne, "be at the bottom of this terrible affair. Mr Harley!" he cried, pa.s.sionately, "I can bear this no longer, and I insist--I demand of you, as one of her Majesty's representatives--that you send troops up to the village at once!"

"I have thought of all this, Mr Perowne," said the Resident, "but that would be a declaration of war, and I should not feel justified in taking such a step without authority from the Governor."

"I do not care!" cried the father, frantically. "War or no war, I demand that, instead of waiting in this cold-blooded way, you have the place searched! This outrage must be due to the Rajah!"

There was a low hum of excitement in the room, as all eagerly watched for the Resident's reply to what seemed to be, but was not--a just demand.

"I would gladly do as you wish, Mr Perowne," he replied, "the more readily because it is what my heart prompts; but I must have some good grounds--stronger than mere suspicion--before I can do more than ask the aid of Murad, who is, as you know, a friendly Prince. Again, I must ask you to consider my position here, and my stringent instructions to keep on good terms with this Rajah. Recollect, sir, once again, to do what you propose would be interpreted by the Malays as an act of war. I have the whole community to study as well as your feelings, sir--as well," he added, in a low voice, only heard by Grey Stuart, "as my own."

"But my child--my child!" groaned Mr Perowne.

"I have done what I could, sir; sent messengers at once to Murad asking his aid, and whether any of his people can give us help."

"You did not accuse him then?" said Mr Stuart.

"How could I, sir, on suspicion? No, I have done what is best."

"But it is horrible!" cried Mr Perowne. "The thought of her being in the power of this unprincipled man is more than I can bear."

"But we do not know, sir, that this is the case, whatever our suspicions may be."

"I think they are wrong," cried Mrs Bolter, quickly, "for here comes someone to tell us who is right."

She pointed through the window as she spoke, and every head was turned to see the Rajah come hurrying up the pathway leading to the house, his steps seeming to partake of the excitement of the whole group, as he dashed up to the door; and as soon as he was admitted he half ran into the midst of the silent a.s.sembly, gazing wildly from face to face, till his eyes rested upon Mr Perowne, to whom he ran, threw his arms over his shoulders, and exclaimed with a pa.s.sionate, half-sobbing cry:

"Tell me--quick! Tell me it is not true!"

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIX.

A PRINCE'S ANGER.

The merchant stared in the young Rajah's convulsed face without speaking, and Murad exclaimed:

"I had heard news, and was coming down. Then came the messengers; but tell me," he cried, "I cannot bear it! This is not true?"

Mr Perowne gazed fixedly in the dark, lurid eyes before him, as if fascinated by their power, and then said sternly:

"It is quite true, sir; quite true."

"No, no!" cried the Malay Rajah, excitedly, "not true that she is gone; not true that she cannot be found?"

"Yes, sir," repeated the merchant again, in a low, troubled voice. "She was taken from us last night."

The Rajah uttered some words in his own tongue that sounded like a pa.s.sionate wail, as he staggered back, as if struck heavily, reeled, clutched at the nearest person to save himself, and then fell with a crash upon the floor.

The little party a.s.sembled crowded round the prostrate man; but at a word from Dr Bolter they drew back, and he went down on one knee beside the young man to loosen his collar.

"A little more air. Keep back, please!" said the doctor, sharply.

"Mary, a gla.s.s of water."

As Mrs Bolter filled a gla.s.s from a carafe upon the sideboard, the doctor took a bottle of strong salts offered by one of the ladies present, and held it beneath the young man's nostrils, but without the slightest effect.

Then the water was handed to the doctor, who liberally used it about the young Prince's face, as the Resident drew near and gazed upon the prostrate figure, keenly noting the clayey hue of the face and the great drops of dank perspiration that stood upon the brow.

"What is it, doctor?" he whispered.

"Fainting--over-excitement," replied Dr Bolter. "He's coming round."

The fact was beginning to be patent to all, for a change was coming over the young man's aspect, and he began to mutter impatiently as the drops of water were sprinkled upon his face, opening his eyes at last and gazing about him in a puzzled way, as if he could not comprehend his position.

Then his memory seemed to come back with a flash, and he started up into a sitting position, muttered a few Malay words in a quick, angry manner, sprang to his feet, and then, with his eyes flas.h.i.+ng, he s.n.a.t.c.hed his kris from the band of his sarong, showing his teeth and standing defiant, ready to attack some enemy with the flame-shaped blade that was dully gleaming in his hand.

"Come, Rajah," said the doctor, soothingly, "be calm, my dear sir. You are among friends."

"Friends!" he cried, hoa.r.s.ely. "_No_: enemies! You have let him take her away, I know," he hissed between his teeth; "but you shall tell me.