Told in the East, Talbot Mundy [crime books to read .txt] 📗

courtyard, shone a solitary lamp that glistened here and there upon the sleek black guns and flickered on the saber-hilts, and deepened the already dead-black atmosphere of mystery.

From the room above, where the lamp shone behind gauze curtains came the sound of voices; and in the deepest, death-darkest shadow of the door below there stood a man on guard whose fingers clutched his sword-hilt and whose breath came heavily. He stood motionless, save for his heaving breast; between his fierce, black mustache and his up-brushed, two-pointed beard, his white teeth showed through parted lips. But he gave no other sign that he was not some Rajput princeling's image carved out of the night.

He was an old man, though, for all his straight back and military carriage. The night concealed his shabbiness; but it failed to hide the medals on his breast, one bronze, one silver, that told of campaigns already a generation gone. And his patience was another sign of age; a younger man of his blood and training would have been pacing to and fro instead of standing still.

He stood still even when footsteps resounded on the winding stair above and a saber-ferrule clanked from step to step. The gunners heard and stood squarely to their horses. There was a rustling and a sound of shifting feet, and, a “Whoa,—you!” to an irritated horse; but the Rajput stayed motionless until the footsteps reached the door. Then he took one step forward, faced about and saluted.

“Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” boomed his deep-throated voice, and Lieutenant Bellairs stepped back with a start into the doorway again—one hand on his sword-hilt. The Indian moved sidewise to where the lamplight from the room above could fall upon his face.

“Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” he boomed again.

Then the lieutenant recognized him.

“You, Mahommed Khan!” he exclaimed. “You old war-dog, what brought you here? Heavens, how you startled me! What good wind brought you?”

“Nay! It seems it was an ill wind, sahib!”

“What ill wind? I'm glad to see you!”

“The breath of rumor, sahib!”

“What rumor brought you?”

“Where a man's honor lies, there is he, in the hour of danger! Is all well with the Raj, sahib?”

“With the Raj? How d'you mean, Risaldar?”

Mahommed Khan pointed to the waiting guns and smiled.

“In my days, sahib,” he answered, “men seldom exercised the guns at night!”

“I received orders more than three hours ago to bring my section in to Jundhra immediately—immediately—and not a word of explanation!”

“Orders, sahib? And you wait?”

“They seem to have forgotten that I'm married, and by the same token, so do you! What else could I do but wait? My wife can't ride with the section; she isn't strong enough, for one thing; and besides, there's no knowing what this order means; there might be trouble to face of some kind. I've sent into Hanadra to try to drum up an escort for her and I'm waiting here until it comes.”

The Risaldar stroked at his beard reflectively.

“We of the service, sahib,” he answered, “obey orders at the gallop when they come. When orders come to ride, we ride!”'

Bellairs winced at the thrust.

“That's all very fine, Risaldar. But how about my wife? What's going to happen to her, if I leave her here alone and unprotected?”

“Or to me, sahib? Is my sword-arm withered? Is my saber rusted home?”

“You, old friend! D'you mean to tell me—”

The Risaldar saluted him again.

“Will you stay here and guard her?”

“Nay, sahib! Being not so young as thou art, I know better!”

“What in Tophet do you mean, Mahommed Khan?”

“I mean, sahib,”—the Indian's voice was level and deep, but it vibrated strangely, and his eyes glowed as though war-lights were being born again behind them—“that not for nothing am I come! I heard what thy orders were and—”

“How did you hear what my orders were?”

“My half-brother came hurrying with the news, sahib. I hastened! My horse lies dead one kos from Hanadra here!”

The lieutenant laughed.

“At last, Mahommed? That poor old screw of yours? So he's dead at last, eh? So his time had come at last!”

“We be not all rich men who serve the Raj!” said the Risaldar with dignity. “Ay, sahib, his time was come! And when our time comes may thou and I, sahib, die as he did, with our harness on! What said thy orders, sahib? Haste? Then yonder lies the road, through the archway!”

“But, tell me, Risaldar, what brought you here in such a hurry?”

“A poor old screw, sahib, whose time was come—even as thou hast said!”

“Mahommed Khan, I'm sorry—very sorry, if I insulted you! I—I'm worried—I didn't stop to think. I—old friend, I—”

“It is forgotten, sahib!”

“Tell me—what are these rumors you have heard?”

“But one rumor, sahib-war! Uprising—revolution—treachery—all India waits the word to rise, sahib!”

“You mean—?”

“Mutiny among the troops, and revolution north, south, east and west!”

“Here, too, in Hanadra?”

“Here, too, in Hanadra, sahib! Here they will be among the first to rise!”

“Oh, come! I can't believe that! How was it that my orders said nothing of it then?”

“That, sahib, I know not—not having written out thy orders! I heard that thy orders came. I knew, as I have known this year past, what storm was brewing. I knew, too, that the heavenborn, thy wife, is here. I am thy servant, sahib, as I was thy father's servant—we serve one Queen; thy honor is my honor. Entrust thy memsahib to my keeping!”

“You will guard her?”

“I will bring her in to Jundhra!”

“You alone?”

“Nay, sahib! I, and my sons, and my sons' sons—thirteen men all told!”

“That is good of you, Mahommed Khan. Where are your sons?”

“Leagues from here, sahib. I must bring them. I need a horse.”

“And while you are gone?”

“My half-brother, sahib—he is here for no other purpose—he