"'There was quite a little crowd just here by the tank, discussing the situation, the sick man in their midst resting upon the ground, when Baji Lal and his wife, who happened to be passing, came forward to see what the commotion was all about. They listened to the story, and then told the stranger he might come with them. He gratefully accepted, and, after whispering some instructions to a servant by whom he was accompanied, he motioned to Baji Lal to lead the way. The little group moved off, the servant in the rear, leading the horses, which included a pack animal laden with the traveller's bedding, cooking pots, and other belongings.

"'After unloading the baggage at Baji Lal's home, the servant, as we learned later in the day, had, in obedience to orders, straightway mounted his horse, and ridden away. He had exchanged no words with any of us.

"'For weeks Baji Lal and his wife attended to the wants of the invalid, until at last he was able to move about the village, and talk with one and another. From the first we had recognized the stranger as a man of distinction. Now we learned his name—Sheikh Ahmed, a Moslem, I need not say. But in these days of Akbar all religious feuds are to be set aside, this by direct command of the Emperor himself—blessed be his name and exalted his glory! So this follower of the prophet was made quite welcome among us, a community of Hindus.

"'Day by day the Sheikh regained his strength, and often would he come of an evening when the village folk gathered under this pipul tree, listening to the chit-chat going on, sometimes joining in the conversation. Soon he began to tell us stories of far lands, for he had travelled to many distant places, even outside of Hindustan, so we grew to like him, and to watch each evening for his coming.

"'But all of a sudden he disappeared from our midst. The day before he had been with us, sitting almost on the very spot where you are seated now. He did not say he was going away, nor even hint that he intended doing so. When Baji Lal was questioned, he said that the servant had returned during the night with saddle and pack horses, and that, after conferring with Sheikh Ahmed, had gathered together his master's belongings, and announced their immediate departure. Baji Lal had tried to persuade his guest to wait until daylight, but this advice was unheeded. The Sheikh promised, however, that he would come again to the village when he passed that way on his homeward journey.

"'At this time Baji Lal's story seemed a perfectly natural one, and the people only regretted that they had not had the opportunity of bidding the Sheikh farewell. Still the prospect of soon seeing him again softened this regretful feeling.

"'And now began the change in our friends. Baji Lal ceased to come to our village meetings, and Devaka shunned every woman, even her most intimate friends. For a while this strange behaviour did not attract special attention, although noted and commented on afterwards. For just a few days after Sheikh Ahmed had gone away the monsoon had burst, and the stormy weather would account for Baji Lal and his wife remaining much at home. But as time wore on, and their furtive ways grew more and more pronounced, people began to talk, and from talking they took to watching and spying. For, believe me, there is nothing so all-absorbing as for once respected and well-thought-of people to be under a cloud. We allow our imaginations to run riot, and our tongues do not rust for want of wagging.

"'Thus suspicion gradually filled the air, and it was whispered that Baji Lal and Devaka had murdered their guest for his money, and had merely invented the story of his midnight departure to hide their crime. Children who once used to run to them shrank back, or were called away by their parents.

"'But, most extraordinary thing of all, and one that brought convincing confirmation to what had at first been mere suspicion, at night there could be heard heartbreaking cries and sobs coming from the house of Baji Lal. The voice was not his, nor that of his wife; it was, in all truth, the wail of a spirit, plaintive at times, then angry as if shrieking aloud for vengeance. For I myself have heard these sounds with mine own ears; twice in the darkness of the night I mustered courage to steal forth as far as the hedge that hides the house from the roadway, and, although the monsoon winds were still boisterous, above all other noises again and again arose that wail of a soul in anguish. Others, too, went to listen, and fled from the place in terror. And soon the house of Baji Lal came to be shunned by every one as if it had been plague-stricken.

"'Now you understand why your old friends greeted you with woe-begone looks. The inner meaning of the story I do not know, but I have told you the facts that are in my possession. And glad shall I be if you can conceive any solution for the mystery, and free Baji Lal and his wife from the terrible accusation of having murdered the man who was their guest within the gate and had eaten of their salt. If you cannot, then we must just say kismet, I suppose. Man cannot strive against fate.'

"'Is it your belief, Bimjee,' I asked, 'that the stranger was really done to death in Baji Lal's home?'

"'No,' he answered decisively. 'But all the same, I have the evidence of my own ears that a curse has fallen upon the place.'

"For the moment I made no further comment, but sat silent, revolving the strange story in my mind. My reverie, however, was of short duration, for all of a sudden Bimjee sprang to his feet in great excitement.

"'Look, look,' he cried, pointing to a crowd of villagers coming in our direction. 'At last they have laid hold of Baji Lal and his wife, and are bringing them here for punishment.'

"Bewildered by the suddenness of this blow, I could but watch in helpless silence the advancing throng, with my poor friends in their midst, their hands bound, their tottering footsteps directed by rude shoves towards the pipul tree, the accustomed assembly place of the villagers and the village council.

"A minute later, however, I had regained my self-possession, and when the procession came abreast of me, I stepped in front of it and commanded a halt. Courtesy to me as a visitor to the village was sufficient to exact this measure of obedience. But when I demanded that the ropes should be cut and the prisoners liberated, a storm of angry protests was the only result.

"The leader of the crowd approached me, and in a respectful voice said they were sorry to refuse my request, but a crime had been committed that disgraced the whole community. The spirit of a murdered man haunted the house of Baji Lal and Devaka, and cried to heaven for vengeance. The villagers would never prosper if they allowed this foul deed to pass unpunished; why, only that very morning a strange sickness had seized some of their cattle, and two sacred cows had died in spasms of pain—an omen from the gods that could not be disregarded.

"I saw that it was useless to argue with the man. But I made another attempt to have the prisoners' bonds at least loosened, for I could see that the cords bit cruelly into their arms. After some consultation this point was conceded. Baji Lal shot at me a look of gratitude, but his poor little wife merely used her freed hands to hide her face in the folds of her sari.

"'Now my friends,' I cried boldly, 'this case must be properly tried. Where is the patel?'

"I had noticed that the headman of the village was not present, and in asking for him had in mind that he was my personal friend, so that I might appeal to him with better success for the release of the prisoners.

"'The patel is away on a day's journey,' cried a voice in the crowd.

"'Then must the accused be taken to the village constable,' I declared, 'and kept by him until the patel returns and the council of elders can be properly assembled.'

"My bold assumption of authority had stilled the tumult, and to my surprise every one now seemed willing to do my bidding.

"'Come along then,' cried several voices, as the prisoners were once more urged forward. I kept close by their side, and when we gained the constable's house and the staked enclosure that served as a place of detention, I too passed within, leaving the leaders of the crowd to guard the gateway.

"When we were alone, Baji Lal and Devaka threw themselves at my feet, and thanked me for the aid I had rendered them.

"'My children,' I said, as I raised them up, 'were I not assured in my own mind that there is some grievous mistake, and that you can explain the mysterious disappearance of your guest, I should not be here by your side. But tell me your story, and I shall advise you to the best of my powers.'

"Baji Lal lifted his eyes, and gazed at me mournfully but fearlessly.

"'Chunda Das,' he began, 'you have known me now for many years. Have I ever done aught to shake your confidence?'

"'Never,' I affirmed.

"'Have you ever heard me tell a lie?'

"'Never,' I again replied.

"'Well, then, you will believe me when I say that I told the truth in declaring that the stranger went away in the night. His servant came back all in a hurry for him, and he would not tarry even until daylight, although I pleaded with him to stay.'

"'I believe you,' I said, for, even apart from my prior trust, the man's look convinced me that he was speaking true words.

"'Yes, this is the simple truth,' he went on. 'And yet'——here his voice faltered, and he glanced down pityingly on his wife crouched upon the ground, rocking herself and wringing her hands. 'And yet I know, we know, Devaka and I, that Sheikh Ahmed has been murdered.'

"I started aghast, and involuntarily drew my garments around me.

"'Nay,' he said reproachfully, reading my unacknowledged and almost unformed thought, 'but not at our hands, Chunda Das.'

"'Then how do you know that he is dead?' I questioned, already ashamed that a doubt could have crossed my mind as to my friends being art and part in such a dastardly deed. 'What makes you think so?'

"'I do not think; I know,' he said decisively. 'And I will tell you why. The night after the Sheikh left was cold and windy, for the monsoon was approaching. Devaka and I were sitting together, and as we listened to the wind blowing outside she expressed the hope that our guest was safely at his destination, for in his state of health the inclement weather would be harmful. Before I could answer her we were startled to hear quite close to us a faint cry. I got up and looked around, and so did Devaka, for she is brave, my wife. But we could not find anything to account for the disconcerting sound.

"'We sat down again, but before long we heard once more the wailing cry, louder now and more prolonged. We started up, and this time went outside in spite of the rain carried by the lashing wind. However, we could discover no one—neither man nor beast. So we went in again, and shut the door.

"'And all that night long this strange thing continued. Sometimes the sound was softly sobbing, then it would grow to a heartbreaking wail. We could not go to bed. Fear kept us awake, for we had come to the conclusion that it was the spirit of Sheikh Ahmed trying to make us understand that he had been murdered on the road.

"'Day after day, and night after night we were haunted by the cries and sobs of this spirit. Can you wonder that our hearts grew weak from fear, that we shunned our neighbours lest they should enter our dwelling and, hearing these sounds, suspect that we had done some grievous wrong? That is my story, Chunda Das.'

"And the strong man sank to the ground, as he buried his face in his hands.

"'It is even a relief to be here,' he cried, in broken tones, 'here, prisoners in this place of shame, because at least we are no longer haunted by the voice of the dead Sheikh.'

"He flung his hands out in an abhorrent gesture, and raised tear-filled, pleading eyes to mine.

"I had been listening intently to Baji Lal's story, and had watched the changes on his impassioned face. When the tale was ended, Devaka threw herself prone at my feet, and pressed her lips to the hem of my robe. I was touched by her silent beseeching, though I hastily, and I fear roughly, commanded her to arise.

"'Dear friends,' I said, 'this is indeed an extraordinary occurrence. And how I can help you is more than I at present know. But rest assured that I will exert myself to the utmost to remove from your heads the infamy of such an accusation.'

"I mused awhile, then put a few questions as to the personal appearance of the stranger, Sheikh Ahmed, and also that of his servant, the exact hour of their departure, and the direction in which they had gone. After learning these things, I took my leave, commending Baji Lal and his wife to the care of the constable, whose promise that nothing would happen to his prisoners until the patel's return I sealed with a handful of rupees.

"This matter settled, I strolled back to the pipul tree beside the tank, thinking that it might be useful to pick up the remarks of the loiterers. But to my surprise I found virtually the whole village in assembly, and to my dismay soon gathered that it was their fixed intention to kill Baji Lal, give to Devaka the privilege of committing suttee, and then burn down the haunted house whence the accusing sounds came, making of their own home the funeral pyre of both victims.

"I plucked my beard in my distress; I felt so helpless. If only the headman was here, together we might have devised something. But alone I was powerless. Plunged in gloomy forebodings, I did not notice the approach of the barber, until he touched my sleeve to announce his presence.

"'You have heard what they mean to do?' he asked.

"I nodded.

"'We must save them, Chunda Das. But I beg of you not to place any reliance on the patel's coming, for he sides with the rest of the villagers, and will help them to deal out the swift justice which he believes to be well deserved. Besides it was his cows that died this morning.'

"At this statement, then indeed my last hope was gone. For we were far away from any town where I could have invoked the aid of the Emperor's soldiers. I shook my head despairingly.

"'Oh, yes, Chunda Das, you will devise some way,' protested the barber, reading the hopelessness in my mind. 'You have a fleet horse, and can ride after Sheikh Ahmed, find him, and call him back again. Or, if he be really dead, you can bring word of how his end came.'

"'Will there be time for all this?' I asked dubiously.

"'We must make time,' he answered. 'The patel will be back before long. You can use the interval in getting some food, and in preparing for the road. I think your influence with him will at least secure delay for some days, until you can return with the information in quest of which you go. But mark my words, unless the Sheikh shows himself, or you can prove how he met his death on the road, then assuredly will the doom of our friends be sealed.'

"'Very well,' I said, contented in my mind; for if my search for Sheikh Ahmed failed, I could bring back with me some of our master Akbar's soldiery to rescue the prisoners.

"During the afternoon the headman returned, and I lost no time before interviewing him. I told him how firmly convinced I was that Baji Lal and Devaka were innocent, and that I would prove it if he gave me the chance to do so. At first he shook his head, but on my promising that the unfortunate couple would in the interval make no effort to escape, and that I would surely be back in two weeks' time whether or not success in my mission attended me, he yielded to my entreaties, the less reluctantly because I further undertook to pay him the value of his dead cows.

"So, after a brief good-bye visit to Baji Lal and his wife, I set forth on my journey.

"Six days later I entered the bazaar of Punderpur. I went to a travellers' rest house with which I was familiar, to see whether I could glean any information as to the present whereabouts of Sheikh Ahmed, who, in his travels, I had discovered, had been making for this place.

"Seated around the courtyard of the caravanserai were many visitors and their friends of the town. With some of the latter I was acquainted, but for the present I only returned their greetings with a silent salaam. I was anxious to meet with an old friend, a munshi, learned in many languages, whose profession kept him on the outlook for the numerous travellers from distant parts who passed this way.

"I had just espied the man of whom I was in quest, seated at some distance among a group of idlers, when I was accosted by a stranger handsomely accoutred and of line bearing. He said that he had heard I was recently arrived from Sengali. He had friends in that village, and would be glad to hear of them.

"I told him that for the present I was occupied with pressing business, but a little later I would be at his disposal, and pleased to give him any information in my power. He thanked me courteously, and said he would return in the evening, when, perhaps, I would be more at leisure. I had cut short this interview, paying, indeed, little heed to the stranger, for I had noticed that my friend, the munshi, not knowing of my presence in the inn, was in the act of taking his departure. I hastened after him.

"The venerable munshi was delighted to see me, and insisted on my sharing his evening meal. We moved in the direction of his home, and he gave me the chit-chat of the day. Until our repast was finished I did not mention the object of my visit. Only after we were comfortably seated on the veranda, enjoying the cool night air, did I approach the subject, discreetly, as was fitting, by talking on topics quite at variance from the one in my mind. But after a time I ventured to ask whether many travellers had passed recently. He looked at me shrewdly and smiled.

"'At last, my friend, you tell me the reason of your coming here. You are in search of some one.'

"'Truly I am,' I replied, 'and it is a matter of life or death to find the man I am seeking.'

"Thereupon, without further preamble, I related the story of Baji Lal and the missing Sheikh.

"At the end of my narrative Munshi Khyraz—such was my host's name—sat silent for a spell. I knew my friend, and allowed him his own time to make any comment. Presently he broke from his reflections.

"'About the time you mention,' he began, 'just before the first rains, a stranger was brought into this town by some woodcutters. Their story was that the wounded man had been attacked by his servant when travelling, and left for dead in the jungle.'

"I started, and leaned toward him eagerly.

"'A clue!' I cried. 'A clue! Where is he now?'

"The old sage looked at me with disapproval in his eyes.

"'Excitement and impetuosity of speech are for the young, my friend,' he said, gravely. 'They are not becoming in the matured.'

"I lay back again on my cushions, feeling justly censured. The light of displeasure dying from his eyes, the munshi proceeded:

"'I had the victim of this outrage carried to my house, and, his wounds not proving serious, he was soon well, and able to think of resuming his journey. He was very reticent concerning the motive of his servant for attempting his life, and foolishly, to my mind, made no effort to trace the miscreant. When leaving he said that in all probability he would return this way a few weeks later. So, my friend, he may be here any day, for it is a good long while since he left.'

"Repressing my eagerness this time, I sat still for a few minutes, then said:

"'I think it is certain from what you have told me that the wounded man was the one I am now seeking.'

"'Perhaps, perhaps, but only time will decide,' he replied, cautiously. 'You must wait and see.'

"'Wait! wait!' I cried, impatiently. 'There is no time to wait. I must act, and that quickly.'

"The munshi looked at me commiseratingly, but contented himself with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Just then a servant approached, and whispered in his master's ear. The old man sat up from his half-reclining attitude, and methought for a moment that an amused smile crept over his face.

"'Admit him,' he said to the attendant. 'Admit him at once.'

"Then, turning to me with his accustomed gravity, he added in explanation: 'A friend of mine has called. He is an interesting man, and I want you to know him.'

"I was about to protest that I had not come there to make new acquaintances, when the curtain was pushed aside, and none other than the stranger who had addressed me at the caravanserai stepped on to the veranda. He crossed over to the master of the house, and greeted him affectionately. I decided to remain at least a short time, and waited quietly until my host should introduce his visitor. This he straightway proceeded to do, presenting us to each other with a courteous wave of his hand.

"A glow of pleasure suffused the newcomer's face when he recognized me.

"'Fate is indeed kind,' said he. 'I was going to try and find you again at the rest house, when, lo and behold! here you are, the guest of my good friend, the munshi.'

"'What! Are you already acquainted?' exclaimed our host, visibly surprised, despite the philosophy of self-restraint he was so fond of preaching.

"It was my turn now to bestow a reproving look.

"'We have met,' I rejoined, with proper dignity, 'but as yet I have not the honour of acquaintance.'

"To cover this well-deserved rebuke, the munshi clapped his hands and bade the servant who responded to the summons to bring sherbet for our refreshment. After the cooling draught, and when we were all comfortably settled, the stranger, whose name had not yet been spoken, turned to me and said:

"'Now perhaps you will give me the news from Sengali.'

"'It is grievous,' I returned, 'and it is owing to trouble there that I am now here.'

"'Indeed. And what may the trouble be? As I told you this afternoon, I have friends in the village, and am consequently interested.'

"'Aye, aye, tell him the story you have just told me,' called out the munshi.

"Courteously the stranger awaited my response, in his eyes an anxious look of inquiry. As I proceeded with my recital his excitement grew apace, and he leaned forward in his eagerness to miss not a word. At the finish he started to his feet, and, catching hold of my arm, exclaimed:

"'What! You tell me they will burn down their very home?'

"I nodded assent.

"'Then must we start in all haste for Sengali,' he continued, excitedly. 'To-night, now, or it may be too late.'

"I was moved by this display of fervid sympathy on the part of a stranger for my humble friends in their sorry plight. But I could not avail myself of his proffered assistance.

"'Pardon me,' I replied, 'but I have first to find Sheikh Ahmed, who has been the cause—the innocent cause—of all this grievous anxiety, and whose presence is needed to put an end to the false charge of murder.'

"'Don't you know that I am Sheikh Ahmed?' cried the stranger.

"'Yes, yes, he is no other,' laughed our host, the munshi. 'I avoided giving the wounded traveller's name a while ago, Chunda Das, as a fitting curb to your eagerness, and now, thanks to the Sheikh paying me a visit, you have met somewhat quicker than I expected.'

"For full a minute I was speechless. Was it possible that I had so soon found my man, or, to put it more correctly, that the man had found me? The gods be praised for working on behalf of the helpless and oppressed!

"But my meditations were rudely interrupted. The Sheikh had again gripped me by the shoulder, and was speaking rapidly:

"'Rouse yourself, friend; rouse yourself. This is no time for wonderment.'

"'So you are indeed alive and well, Sheikh Ahmed?' I asked, in blundering fashion.

"'You can see for yourself,' he replied, impatiently. 'But I little thought I should have been the means of doing to these kind people who nursed and nourished me so grievous an injury. But, Allah be praised! there is yet time to repair the wrong and make amends. Let us away, away, without the delay of another hour.'

"The munshi clapped his hands once more, and the servant was quickly in attendance.

"'These friends of mine will take the road,' he said to the man, 'so soon as the moon is up. Go you now to the inn, and bid the grooms make ready their horses for a long journey. Quick—lose no time!'

"The Sheikh motioned the servant to his side, and added some whispered instructions. Then, turning to me, he said:

"'The moon will serve us ere very long.'

"By my silence I had acquiesced in the plan of speedy departure, for nothing could better suit my own wishes. But meanwhile there would be an interval of patient waiting.

"'Can you account for the strange wailing around the house of Baji Lal?' I asked of the Sheikh.

"He hesitated a moment before making answer.

"'To me it is all a mystery,' he said at last. 'Some one, perhaps, is playing a trick upon them.'

"'A sorry trick,' I commented bitterly.

"'But their home must certainly be saved,' he added.

"'Not merely their home,' said I. 'Their lives are also in jeopardy.'

"'We must save them! we shall save them!' cried the Sheikh, with upraised hand and in a tone of determination that brought great comfort to my anxious heart.

"The time soon passed, and, our horses having been brought round from the rest house, we took leave of our good host, Munshi Khyraz.

"Just as we turned on to the high road, ten or a dozen mounted troopers emerged from the shadow of a tope of trees, and came clattering behind us.

"'These are my escort,' explained the Sheikh. 'I have already encountered too many dangers on this road to run further risks.'

"I made no comment, but inwardly reflected that once more kind fate was working in my favour. Of course, with Sheikh Ahmed alive, there would be no need to use force for Baji Lal's rescue. But safeguarded on the way, we should be all the quicker in reaching our destination.

"It was toward noon on the fourth day from Punderpur—for there were now no inquiries to delay me—that we came in sight of the village of Sengali. It was just ten days then since the date of my departure in quest of the missing man. So my mind was at ease; according to the patel's promise, there remained yet four days of safety for Baji Lal and Devaka.

"But all at once fear smote my heart. There was a strange absence of people in the fields and on the outskirts of the village. Dreading I know not what, I begged of the Sheikh to press forward. Our escort was some distance behind us on the road, but, without waiting for the troopers, we set our tired horses to their best speed.

"Coming to the pipul tree and the tank, we found this usual place of congregation deserted. Now indeed was I thoroughly alarmed, likewise my companion, and of one accord, without waiting to visit the constable's compound, we turned our horses' heads in the direction of the home of Baji Lal.

"And there indeed we found a dense crowd, the hoarse murmur of their voices being borne to our ears before we turned the corner. The first thing that smote my eyes was a thin column of smoke mounting skyward.

"Sheikh Ahmed too had seen, for he whipped up his horse unmercifully. As he flashed past me, I was struck by the ashen grey that had stolen over his features. His face was drawn, his nostrils quivered from excitement.

"I could not but admire his eager determination. 'What gratitude! What unselfishness!' I thought to myself. 'Here is this man, rich and highly placed, ready to endure prolonged fatigues and hardships, to face any adventure, and all for the sake of a humble villager and his wife who did but nurse him when he was sick. Not often do we find such men, not often do we see the rich incommoding themselves for the poor.'

"Emulating his example, I urged my lagging beast to a final effort. In a brief minute we were on the outskirts of the crowd, where perforce we had to dismount. The Sheikh led the way as, afoot, we passed through the throng.

"When we got within clear view of the house, I saw that faggots had been placed all around it, and that these were already alight, giving forth the smoke we had seen from a distance. I looked about me in dread. Where were Baji Lal and Devaka? I questioned a man who was blocking my way. He turned round, and, to my joy, I recognized Bimjee, the barber. He gazed at me sadly, and, without expressing surprise at seeing me, pointed to the flat roof.

"There, beyond the low parapet, tied to a stake, was poor little Devaka. Her face was covered by her sari, and whether she were living or dead it was impossible to tell.

"'And her husband?' I asked, trembling. 'Not yet dead?'

"'No. But when the sun is at its highest point, which will be in a few minutes now, he will be dispatched with a sword and his body flung into the fire. See! they are already pouring oil on the faggots, so that the haunted house may be quickly consumed. It will soon be all over with our poor friends.'

"'Not so, not so,' I cried, 'for Sheikh Ahmed has come back. See, there he is, hastening to rescue his humble friends. He has not rested day or night since he heard of the disaster that had befallen them.'

"The crowd had parted before the Sheikh, and through the rift I now beheld Baji Lal, standing with his hands tied behind him at a little distance from his burning home. But to my surprise Sheikh Ahmed darted past him.

"'Ah!' exclaimed the barber, noticing my disconcerted look. 'He thinks that Devaka is in greater peril, and leaves you to rescue her husband.'

"I looked at the curling smoke, and shuddered. Assuredly there was no time to be lost if the woman was to be saved.

"'You are right, Bimjee,' I cried. 'We'll look after Baji Lal. Come along.'

"And I gained my friend's side none too soon, for already a sword was pointed at his breast. Leaping on the man who held it, I thrust the weapon aside.

"The patel, standing by, turned on me with a ferocious look.

"'How dare you hinder justice, Chunda Das?' he demanded. 'This is by decree of the panchayet.'

"'Your promise bound the village council as well as yourself,' I retorted. 'It is but ten days since I departed on my quest for Sheikh Ahmed, and you assured me faithfully that for two weeks at least nothing would be done to this man and his wife.'

"'More cattle have died,' he answered, sullenly.

"The crowd were pressing round us, with angry gestures and threatening looks, like wild beasts baulked of their prey.

"'Pull his beard,' 'Knock off his turban,' and such like impertinences were hurled at me. But, taking no heed of these, I again addressed the patel, raising my voice so that all around might hear.

"'You gave me fourteen days to find the stranger whom you say was murdered, and ahead of time I have returned and brought him with me. And Baji Lal, whom this very minute you were about to murder—aye, murder—is an innocent man, and his wife a maligned woman.'

"And such is human nature, that they who a short time before had been so keen to see Baji Lal done to death, were now loud in their acclamations at his escape.

"But the patel looked at me with lowering brow.

"'Fine words, Chunda Das, but I do not see the Sheikh?'

"The crowd hushed their outburst, and faces again looked serious.

"'Oh, yes,' cried some one. 'Let us see him. Where is Sheikh Ahmed?'

"'Where, indeed, but in the burning house, endeavouring to save your other victim?' I made answer, turning round and pointing with uplifted arm to Devaka, who now was standing with hands held out beseechingly to the throng, her face uncovered, full of entreaty.

"And even as we gazed the flames burst through the roof beneath her feet, and the clouds of smoke almost hid her from view.

"There was no sign of Sheikh Ahmed, and I was greatly perturbed. What had happened to him? Why did he not appear on the roof? From their countenances I could see that the spectators were still unconvinced of the presence of the man.

"Baji Lal up to this time had remained passive, his head bowed as if in helpless acknowledgement of the power of destiny. But at my call he cast his eyes upward with the others, and, beholding the form of his wife through the eddying smoke wreaths, he broke out in loud and passionate appeal.

"'Chunda Das, friends, neighbours, do not let her burn. She is innocent of any crime. Do not let her perish. Chunda Das, cut my bonds, that I may save her or die with her.'

"I was about to sever the thongs that confined his wrists and ankles, when the patel laid a detaining hand on my shoulder.

"'Not so fast, not so fast, if you please. We have not yet seen Sheikh Ahmed, and Baji Lal is still condemned to die.'

"I flashed an indignant look at the relentless man, but a cry of 'There he is, there he is,' broke from the mob. And, sure enough, through the clouds of smoke, could be seen the figure of the rescuer, crouching low as he cautiously crept along the roof, with a hand on the parapet to guide his movements. With bated breath we watched as he neared the fainting woman, and then, rising to his full height, tore at the rope which bound her to the stake.

"At last he had released her, and gathered her senseless form in his arms. But a billow of black smoke blotted out the grim scene. A moment of tense silence and sickening uncertainty. Then a great shout from the throng, a shout of pent-up joy and relief, when the hero with his burden came staggering out through the flame-framed doorway of the building.

"I rushed forward with the rest, and received Devaka in my arms. She had swooned. I gazed at her rescuer in admiration, his face blackened, his hair singed, his clothes torn. But could I believe my eyes? The brave man who had sunk to the ground in a heap was not Sheikh Ahmed, but Bimjee, the village barber!

"Hastily consigning Devaka to the care of women standing by, I hurried forward.

"'Sheikh Ahmed is in that house,' I cried, 'probably overpowered by the smoke. We must save him. Who will come with me?'

"All remained silent. Then some one called out:

"'It is no use, Chunda Das. It is impossible, the walls are falling.'

"But at that very instant the Sheikh appeared through the clouds of smoke rolling from the doorway. He tottered forward, bearing in his arms a large bundle wrapped in a cotton quilt. Outstretched hands caught him as he fell, and carried him away from the burning ruins, for the walls had now indeed collapsed.

"Neighbours vied with each other in offers of help. Baji Lal and Devaka were taken to one house. Sheikh Ahmed and myself went to another. The barber had recovered, and had quietly departed for his own home.

"Next day I sent round word that all the villagers were to come to the usual place of public gathering, the widespread pipul tree. No second bidding was required; the open space was soon crowded, right to the edge of the tank and to the wall of the temple.

"When all were assembled, with Sheikh Ahmed, Baji Lal and Devaka, also Bimjee the barber, standing by me, I faced the throng.

"'Good people,' I said, 'our worthy friends, Baji Lal and his wife, have been publicly disgraced. They are now to be publicly reinstated as honoured members of the community. Sheikh Ahmed will explain the sobbing and wailing that used to distress them just as much as it mystified you all, and eventually caused suspicion of an abominable crime. Listen to the story Sheikh Ahmed has to tell.'

"As I stepped back a pace, the Sheikh came forward. His handsome countenance beamed goodwill to all, and a murmur of friendly greeting bore testimony to his popularity. In soft, melodious voice, he addressed the eagerly expectant crowd.

"'I am indeed heartily grieved that through any fault of mine my kind host and his wife Devaka should have suffered so severely. I may now inform you that when I tarried in your midst some time ago, I was on my way to the court of Akbar on an important mission. I was, as you know, accompanied by a servant. I had in my possession a most valuable harp, encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones. It had formerly belonged to the Maharanee of Kholtan, and had been looted from her palace during the last war. Our Emperor, the Padishah, had long been desirous of possessing it, for the fame of the instrument, its beauty and value, was widespread. By a fortunate chance I became acquainted with the man who was hiding it in the city of Poona. I promised, in the name of my lord and master, the mighty Akbar, a lac of rupees, and undertook to carry the instrument safely to the Emperor at Fathpur-Sikri. On account of its extreme value we decided to conceal it in a rough packing, and, with a view to avoid attracting attention, that I should be attended on the road by no more than one body servant, a man who had been long in my employment and in whom I placed implicit confidence.

"'Well, all went right until, just as we neared this village I fell sick—as I now believe, through the agency of my faithless attendant, who would have poisoned me so that he might possess himself of the precious harp. Fortunately I was succoured by our good friend, Baji Lal, and nursed back to health by him and his devoted wife Devaka. I had sent my servant on to Punderpur, there to await a summons when I again felt well enough to travel. But one night he returned of his own accord, bringing the news that the Padishah himself was approaching Punderpur, and now would be the time for me to complete my mission.

"'But there was something in the fellow's manner that awakened my distrust. At this time my suspicions were but vague, yet sufficient to prompt me to caution. Without discovering my inmost thoughts, I acquiesced in his proposal, and, disregarding the entreaties of my kind hosts, prepared to take the road without an hour's delay.

"'But first I had to dispose of the bejewelled harp in a place of safety, for I had made up my mind not to carry it any longer with me. At Punderpur it would be possible to get an escort of Akbar's cavalry, and then I could return with them for the treasure. So meanwhile I had to find some sure hiding-place, this in preference to burdening anyone here with my secret.

"'The walls of my room in Baji Lal's house were covered with a thick tent-cloth. While my servant was feeding the horses, I loosened one edge of this, and to my joy found the space between the inner and the outer covering sufficient to take the harp. I stripped off the bulky wrappings in which the harp had been carried up to this time, leaving only a swathing of fine silk. Then I carefully bestowed the instrument in its place of hiding, tying it securely to a beam high up toward the ceiling, and finally I restored the tent-cloth wall exactly as I had found it. Thereafter I stuffed a few billets of wood into the empty casing of the harp, and when my servant returned I bade him carry forth the package, and secure it across my saddle-bow, just as I had been wont to travel heretofore. Even though it was yet dark, we rode forth on our way.

"'Next day I noticed that my servant kept watching me in a furtive manner, and I congratulated myself on the precaution I had taken, and inwardly resolved to be more than ever on my guard not to be caught unawares. But, alas! I was still weak, and exhausted nature overcame vigilance, so that one night I slept soundly. I remember nothing of what took place. But when I came to myself some woodcutters were bathing my head. They said I had been beaten and wounded, and had bled profusely. I tried to stand up, but was seized with a great faintness, and would have fallen had not my succourers steadied me. With tender care I was carried to Punderpur, happily not far distant, where I was yet once again kindly bidden to the home of strangers.

"'A munshi named Khyraz was the name of my new benefactor. He was most wishful that I should hunt down my faithless servant, who, I need not say, after leaving me for dead, had disappeared with my horse and the package which was supposed to contain the precious harp. However, as I had still the instrument in safe keeping, and as I did not want the story of its being in my possession to get noised abroad, for this would have robbed me of the pleasure of surprising our King of Kings with the production of the coveted prize, I let the rascal go, for the time being at all events. But his day will come, the son of a pig who betrayed the master whose salt he had eaten for years. May the tombs of his ancestors be defiled!

"'Of course the news that had brought me to Punderpur was false. So far from Akbar being in the vicinity, I now learned that he had gone on a journey to Gwalior, and would not be back to Fathpur-Sikri for several months. Therefore, I took the opportunity of paying a business visit to Benares, resting content in my mind that the harp could be in no safer place than in its snug hiding at the home of Baji Lal, where no robbers would ever dream of prying.

"'However, I was just on the eve of retracing my steps to this village when Chunda Das came to Punderpur in quest of me. We met at the house of Munshi Khyraz, and there I learned of the disaster to my friends here, and the terrible doom that was contemplated for them. Imagine my dismay, too, when I discovered that their house was to be burned. My beautiful harp! It would be destroyed! So we hurried back, sparing neither ourselves nor our beasts.

"'When I saw the tongues of flame actually curling about the home of Baji Lal, I became oblivious of aught else save the rescue of the priceless harp from destruction. Through the blinding smoke I groped my way to my old sleeping room. I nearly succumbed three or four times before I managed to tear down the tent-cloth. Then, by the flicker of the flames I could see the harp reposing in its hiding place in all its gleaming beauty. I had no time to feel surprised that its silken covering had been blown aside, and indeed was at that very moment fluttering in a current of air.

"'Just as my hand reached forth to seize the precious instrument, I was startled by a subdued plaintive cry. For an instant I paused and wondered. Then I discovered that the wind was blowing through a crevice in the wall just behind the harp, and that it was the breeze rushing through the opening that was causing the strings to vibrate and give forth their weird complaining.

"'And this, good people, is the explanation of the unrestful spirit. When the wind blew strong, the cries were loud and insistent; when the blast came gently, the sobbing was low and wailing.

"'I am distressed that so simple a thing could have caused such trouble. But in reparation I will undertake to build for Baji Lal and his wife a new home. I hereby give to their good friend, Chunda Das, an undertaking to that effect'—he passed a paper to me as he spoke—'whereby I make myself liable for all moneys expended. And to Devaka I give this chain, which I hope she will always wear in remembrance of her good deed in nursing Sheikh Ahmed back to health.'

"And, throwing a long gold chain around the neck of Devaka, the Sheikh bowed to the company, and, with salaams of farewell, passed through the throng, toward his escort waiting for him all ready mounted at a little distance. Soon there was the clatter of hoofs, and they were riding away across the plain. I had noticed that at Sheikh Ahmed's saddle-bow was a bulky package, undoubtedly the precious harp in its wrappings.

"That was all there was to be said, and after a while the crowd began to disperse. On every hand there was loud acclaim for the Sheikh and his noble generosity, and Devaka's gold chain, which she now held timidly in her hand, was the object of many admiring glances, and drew for her general words of congratulation.

"At last all had gone their several ways, leaving Baji Lal and his wife, Bimjee and myself, alone beneath the pipul tree. A first look into each other's eyes showed that we were all of the same mind. In their excitement of the moment the unthinking throng had approved; but for us there was nothing but bitter disappointment.

"It was Baji Lal who first voiced his feelings.

"'Chunda Das,' he said slowly, 'Sheikh Ahmed has promised to recompense me for my losses; he has given a costly present to my wife. We want neither his gifts nor his promises. They are as dust to us. The little we did for him was not done for gold. Yet we took him into our home, and fought death for him, and won. He left a valuable treasure under our roof without consulting or trusting us. When this act of his brought disaster on our heads, it was no thought for Devaka or for me that brought him back in hot haste. It was the possible loss of the harp that occupied all his thoughts. When he came upon the scene, he saw me tied and ready for the word to die. On the roof he saw my wife with the flames already leaping to devour her. Yet not one finger did he put forth to save either her or me. He just rushed into the smoke-filled house, that he might secure the harp—an instrument of great price, let it be. But you, my dear friend, had ridden night and day to find the man whom our neighbours thought we had murdered. Our faithful friend Bimjee'—Baji Lal stretched out his hand to the barber—'defied fire and smoke to rescue a defenceless woman from an atrocious death. Neither of you had anything to gain by these deeds of bravery and self-sacrifice. You did them for pure love of us. What do we want with that selfish man's gifts? Chunda Das, give me the paper which binds him to his promise to restore my home, that I may tear it into fragments and scatter it to the winds. Devaka, my wife,'—and his voice fell to a tone of great gentleness—'hand the necklet to Chunda Das, that he may restore it to the giver.'

"Devaka, who, as I have said, had already removed the chain of gold from her neck, looked at it perhaps a little lingeringly, let it slip through her fingers caressingly, then with a sigh placed it in my hands and turned away. But her sigh, I knew, was less for the surrender of the gift than for the unworthiness that had prompted its bestowal.

"Her husband contemplated her compassionately. 'You have not many trinkets, little wife,' he said, 'but this one would not remind us so much of good deeds done as of base ingratitude. I have no home to take you to at present, but Bimjee wants us to stay with him until I can build you another.'

"He stretched forth his hand to Devaka, and, leading her away, departed. Bimjee, after a salute to me, followed his bidden guests at a little distance. For myself, I remained awhile to ponder all these happenings.

"To say that I was disappointed in Sheikh Ahmed would not adequately express my feelings. From the first I had been attracted to the man, by his handsome figure, distinguished bearing, and pleasant smile. During our intimacy of four days on the road I had admired the brilliancy of his conversation, and had taken great delight in his entertaining recitals of adventure in many far lands. From one like him I had certainly never expected this display of callous selfishness. But such is life. We have to keep ourselves prepared for many disillusionments. And, as I remarked at the outset of my narrative, an experience of this kind teaches that, if in judging our fellow men we are to be chary of condemnation, it behoves us also to be discreet in commendation."

And so ended the Bombay trader's story.

* * * * *

After an interval of silence, the voice of the Rajput chief spoke up:

"What became of Baji Lal and Devaka?"

"Oh," replied the merchant, "from that day their happiness returned and continued. For the villagers were ashamed to have doubted them, so all contributed to the building and furnishing of their home, and would take no denial. Good fortune seemed to settle on their roof-tree. Little Devaka is now the mother of a fine boy, and she wears a chain of gold around her neck, one given to her by the women of the village when they heard that she had scorned the proffered gift of Sheikh Ahmed, and understood the reason why."

"And the Sheikh and his wonderful harp?" questioned the Afghan soldier. "Did the costly toy reach its destination?"

"The harp is in the treasury of our Sovereign Akbar. Sheikh Ahmed started back for Poona with the lac of rupees he had promised in the name of the Padishah and half a lac more for his own recompense. But he and his company were attacked by a swarm of Mahrattas, and perished to a man."

"And the treacherous servant?"

"About him I know nothing. My tale is told."



V. THE BLUE DIAMONDS

TOLD BY THE FAKIR

"You have certainly improved on the moral of my story," said the astrologer, addressing the merchant, silent now after the telling of his tale. "If it is for God alone to pronounce the censure on mankind, then assuredly it is for God also to award the praise. As the story of Sheikh Ahmed and his jewelled harp well shows, deeds may be done openly by the hand, but the motives for their doing lie secretly in the heart. And the heart is the innermost temple where none but the high priest, the individual soul, holds communion with his God, the supreme Deity of the universe."

"So that a man's life is an unsolvable riddle to all but himself," concurred the hakeem.

"And not to be solved even by himself," remarked the Afghan with a laugh, half of bitterness, half of bravado. "We may know in our secret heart the motive that prompts to a deed, but we cannot tell the consequences of that deed as affecting even ourselves who wrought it. Take this very story of the Sheikh; when recovering his precious harp he was but digging his own grave. So with all of us; we imagine we are marching bravely to accomplish some preconceived plan, when all the time we are merely groping with blinded eyes along the path of destiny, avoiding the mud holes, it may be, but failing to see the tiger, crouched for his spring, a few paces further along."

"Shabash!" cried the fakir, in a shrill tone of approval that drew all eyes to the lean and naked and ash-besprinkled figure seated at the foot of the veranda steps. "Shabash! shabash!" he cried, again and yet again.

"And your story?" asked the Rajput, with a nod of inquiry and encouragement.

"Is one that shows how a man may keep on running all his life yet never reach the goal he has in sight," replied the ascetic. And with the sturdy independence of his calling he beat a peremptory tattoo with finger-tips on wooden begging-bowl to command attention to his tale.

* * * * *

"Behold in me a man who possesses nothing in this world excepting a begging-bowl and a loin cloth. Yet was I at one time the owner of lands and of cattle, of a home bountifully stored for comfort and for sustenance, of wives who wore rich jewels, necklets of pearls, armlets of gold, and bangles of silver, with maid-servants to minister to their needs and children to play around them. All gone! by my own doing, or undoing, call it which you will.

"And know, too, that in those days I also was a soldier"—this with a defiant glance first at the Rajput chief and then at the Afghan general. "At my side rattled the steel scabbard, and in my belt was the sharp poinard, swift messenger of death when it came to hand-to-hand fighting, and the horse I rode had its rich trappings of gold and silver. It may all seem strange, to hear me tell those things of the long ago and to look upon me now"—and the speaker stretched forth his skinny, twisted fingers and attenuated arms, and for a moment ruefully contemplated them.

"But I speak the truth," he went on, "for to-night, prompted by the stories to which I have listened and the thoughts they have engendered, will I unseal my lips after fifty long years of wandering alone, giving no man my confidence, seeking no man's confidence, intent only on the attainment of the one desire deeply seated in my heart, and which, in my eager striving to achieve, seems to be ever more remote from accomplishment. To-night will I reveal the story of my life, so that, perchance, the lesson it teaches will show still more clearly the impotence of man to constitute himself the avenger of wrongs. For if judgment belongs to Allah, so does vengeance. And the choice of instrument, of time and place, of the very manner of the deed—all this belongs to God alone, as this night, listening to the stories that have gone before, have I for the first time come fully to comprehend."

The fakir paused to gaze around his audience. The look of interest and expectancy on each face showed the impression his impulsive flow of language had made. No interrupting word was spoken, but every eye remained fastened on the lean, keen face peering over long slender shanks and hand-clasped knees. The narrator continued:

"In those days I had twenty retainers at my call, and these men I commanded when I rode forth to service with a certain Nawab, from whom I held my lands for the feudal service I thus performed. It was my fate to take part in many a fight and in many a foray, and to send many a man to his doom. But God had ordained it so; the fault was not mine.

"Well, it befell that a certain city was given over to sack and carnage, for the word had gone forth that the only way to break the power of its Hindu occupants was to demolish their temples, destroy their idols, and thereby show the impotence of their false gods to protect them."

The Rajput drew himself up proudly, and a flush of resentment stole over his face. But the Moslem fanatic, unconscious now of anything but his reminiscences of the past, went on unheeding and unabashed:

"It was toward the hour of sunset when a body of our soldiery broke into a temple devoted to the worship of Siva the Destroyer. We had battered in the heavy wooden doors that protected the inner court, and within the threshold a score or more of priests fell to our swords, and a dozen dancing girls as well, attendants on the idols—self-slain these women, for when they saw that there was no quarter for the men they rushed on us like female panthers and flung themselves on our dripping blades."

The Hindu listeners were visibly disturbed and affected by this cold recital of bloody deeds. The hands of the Rajput clenched and unclenched themselves nervously, and the merchant gave a deep, guttural groan of horror as he flung the end of his robe over his face as if to shut out a vision of sacrilege and shame.

"It was written in the beginning, nay before creation it was written," murmured the Moslem astrologer, quoting, in courteous sympathy, the familiar formula of his faith. "And as your priests themselves say," he added, addressing himself more particularly to the Rajput, "'The destiny of each man is irrevocably inscribed on his forehead by the hand of Brahma himself.'"

The Rajput bowed his head in acquiescent silence, and as the fakir proceeded with his story the trader also regained his composure and withdrew the covering from his face.

"When the shadows of night fell, the temple made a bonfire that illuminated the scenes of pillage going on all around. The big idols of loathly aspect had been thrown down, broken to pieces, and despoiled of their jewels and the heavy plates of gold that encumbered them. Our soldiers had swarmed out of the building, past a tank to the houses of some priests beyond. Not one single custodian of the temple survived, and I stood alone in the outer courtyard, watching in idle fashion the tongues of flame licking the beams and rafters and paint-bedaubed walls of the wrecked edifice.

"Then did my eyes chance to light on a small idol in the passage-way between the two courtyards of the temple, set in a deep niche, on which account it had escaped the notice of the despoilers. It was the familiar elephant-headed idol of the Hindus, Ganapati, as I knew they called him, their god of wisdom and the remover of obstacles according to their creed.

"Even as I looked, methought that the eyes of the idol twinkled knowingly and entreatingly at me. After a moment I saw that this fancy was but due to the play of the flames on jewels, comprehending which, I said to myself that the little fat man might perchance be of some considerable value. So I plucked him from his resting-place, not without difficulty, for the base of the idol was fastened by iron clamps to the altar, and only just in time before a surge of fire and smoke swept through the vestibule. Then, without more ado, I carried forth this Ganapati, wrapped in a cotton cloth I had gathered from one of the slain priests, and tied it to the saddle-bow of my horse, which had been standing tethered under a tree close at hand.

"Thus did it come about that, a full month later, I was seated in my home, in a secret inner chamber that served me as a treasury, and to which the only access was through the women's quarters. And before me on a stool rested the cross-legged figure of the four-armed and elephant-headed god, fat, complacent, smiling, to all appearance recovered from the fatigues of a journey of near a hundred leagues and thoroughly contented amidst his new surroundings. The idol was of bronze, and the eyes, which at times gave it such life-like semblance, were clusters of rubies set around with white sapphires.

"And it followed that, day after day, after the siesta hour, I found myself in the company of this accursed idol—for accursed it came to be, bringing me misfortunes and ruin, as my story will unfold. No doubt it was by my own doing that the wrath of Allah was brought down upon my head. For had not I, a follower of the Prophet, and therefore a despiser of graven images in every shape or form, come to treat this monstrous and misshapen creature, half man, half beast, as a sort of familiar, even greeting him on my entry with the words with which I might have saluted a living unbeliever, 'May your days be peaceful,' spoken in goodnatured jest, of course, and without one thought at the time of the sacrilege of which I was guilty? Yea, I would pat the fat little fellow on the head, and, when the humour seized me, would show him my hoard of gold mohurs, even jingle before him a bag of silver rupees, or ask his opinion on the colour and quality of some gem, speaking words of foolishness the while, like a child playing with a toy. And when I lay back on my cushions, sometimes I fancied that the little jewelled eyes in the elephant head of bronze twinkled at me in merry and friendly understanding. All which things I have since remembered with bitter shame.

"But it happened one day that I was in angry mood—some contrary thing among the women of my household had vexed me. And when I sat brooding over my trouble, it seemed that the eyes of the Ganapati laughed at me in mockery. And, angry now at the idol himself, I arose and pressed the balls of my thumbs on the two scintillating clusters of jewels, as it were to shut out the gleam of their impertinence, even ready, in my insane access of wrath, to force them from their sockets as I might have done with the eyeballs of a slave who had offended me.

"But in a moment all passion faded from my heart. For an extraordinary thing happened.

"As I pressed with my thumbs, the clicking sound of moving wheels smote my ear, and the elephant head began slowly to raise itself and revolve backward on some concealed pivot, forming a gaping opening right across the body of the Ganapati. And, as the opening gradually widened, by some devilish contrivance the hammer of a gong concealed within the idol was set in motion, and there resulted a loud continuous clanging din that could have been heard at a far distance. Instinctively I thrust my fingers in my ears to shut out the infernal noise. But after a time the clangor ceased, and now I observed that the elephant head had moved completely back on its hinges, and lay at rest, its single tusk raised aloft. Within the body of the Ganapati a cavity was revealed.

"But before I could explore this, I was distracted by the frightened outcries of my womenfolk, and I sallied forth to pacify them, and give assurance that the bell need cause no alarm, it being one I had purchased in the bazaars with the intent some day to use it as a protection against thieves—its obvious utility, as I guessed even now. When all was again at peace I returned to the secret chamber. Everything was as I had left it a few minutes previously.

"In the hollow body of the bronze idol there lay disclosed to view a small casket of rock crystal, round and polished, and provided with a cap of gold. For me to snatch this casket from its hiding-place was the work of an instant. Straightway I removed the golden lid, and there, in the smooth, transparent nest of crystal, lay a little heap of gems that flashed and gleamed like living fire.

"Recovering from my first emotions of astonishment and delight, I poured forth the treasure into the hollow of my hand, and found it to be a necklace of diamonds, as I could tell from the dazzling sparkle of the stones despite their uncommon colour, which was blue, like the vault of the sky or the eyes of the fair-skinned women of Circassia. Each stone was cut with many facets, and all were strung together by a delicate chain of gold, a solitary large stone in the centre, then smaller ones on either side, each succeeding pair carefully matched as to size, and constantly diminishing till the last were no bigger than grains of millet. All the diamonds were of dazzling lustre and of the one uniform tint, the blue that is so rare, and, as I gazed upon my treasure trove, well could I believe that not such another necklace existed in any part of the world, not even in the jewel caskets of the Great Padishah himself, nor of the Kings of China or of Persia, nor of the Princes of the Franks, who are reputed to have untold stores of diamonds, rubies, topazes, and amethysts.

"For a time I was stricken dumb and motionless, from very fear of the great wealth that reposed in my hollowed palm. Then did I replace the necklace in its casket, and the casket in its receptacle within the body of the bronze god, and, grasping the tusk, I drew forward once again the elephant head, which, at my gentle pressure, rose easily on its pivot, winding again the clicking wheels as it moved, and finally closing at its accustomed place with a sharp snap but without any further sounding of the gong, at which I was well pleased.

"Overcome with varied emotions, I sank down on the carpet, and, gazing up at the idol, beheld the jewelled eyes once more twinkling at me, merrily and mockingly.

"After an interval I withdrew from the chamber, securing the padlock on the outside, and slipping back the artfully concealed panel that hid the secret doorway from prying intruders. The corridor without led to the women's quarters, through which I passed, vouchsafing word to no one. It was only when I had gained the outer courtyard that I drew my breath freely, and recovered my wonted tranquillity of mind and mien.

"Several days passed before I ventured again to visit the Ganapati, and this at last I did in the full belief that the whole affair had been naught but an idle dream. But when I pressed again on the eyes of the elephant head, there came once more the clicking of wheels, followed by the clangor of the gong. This I succeeded in muffling somewhat by throwing a thick cotton quilt, which I had brought for the purpose, over the figure of the god.

"A minute later I held the necklace of flashing blue diamonds in my trembling hand. I lingered just long enough to satisfy myself of the reality of the jewels, of their flawless quality and their matchless lustre. Then, replacing everything as before, I left the chamber with the usual precautions, and gained the divan in the vestibule of the outer courtyard, where I was accustomed to sit and receive my friends. There I meditated for several hours, and at last had formed a definite plan.

"Well I knew that to disclose the treasure would mean its instant surrender to the Nawab, most probably my own doing to death, so that the new owner of the gems might feel more secure in their possession. To realize the value of those blue diamonds they must be sold one by one, or, at most, in separate pairs, and this with infinite care, so as not to arouse suspicion among the banians who are the traders in precious stones, and are ever on the outlook to screw the last copper paisa out of the seller unlawfully trafficking in them. And first of all it would be necessary for me to gain some true idea as to the value of brilliants of so rare a hue.

"Three days later I rode into the city of Lahore, and, after seeing to the wants of my horse, repaired to the bazaar of the Hindu shroffs and banians. All my actions having been carefully thought out and decided upon beforehand, I approached with a bold swagger the shop of a reputable-looking banian, and, in the usual manner of business, took my seat cross-legged before him. Two other merchants were seated near by, but to them I gave no heed.

"After some desultory conversation with the owner of the shop, I unloosed my waistband, and drew therefrom a tiny piece of silk stuff, in whose folds were wrapped two of the smallest of the blue diamonds, a pair, which I had carefully detached from the necklace before setting forth on my journey. These I placed in the banian's hand, and I waited, with all proper patience, while he carefully examined them. His face gave no sign as at last he laid the gems on the lap of his robe. With this I extended my right hand, and thrust it into his right hand, covering both with the loosened end of my waistband, so that he could tell me the price he was willing to pay by the secret pressure on my fingers that would reveal to me the value he had set on the stones without disclosing it to the rival traders seated at our side.

"But to my surprise his hand remained absolutely impassive, giving no response to my movement of inquiry. Then, looking again into the banian's eyes, I detected there a strange menacing look that greatly perturbed me. As his fingers were still limp over mine, signifying unmistakably that there was no willingness to buy, I hastened to withdraw my hand, and, retying my little package, restored it to its place of security. After I had adjusted my waistband, again we spoke some tittle-tattle of the hour before I arose and, with a courteous salaam, took my departure.

"Glancing back from a short distance, I saw the three banians in close colloquy and eagerly gesticulating. Thoroughly alarmed now, and feeling sure that they had recognized the blue diamonds as the spoil of one of their temples, I made all speed to regain the caravanserai where my horse had been bestowed, and, offering no explanation of my hurried departure, immediately rode from the city. Gaining the open country, I gave rein to my horse, although I took the precaution of making a detour before I finally struck out in the direction of my home.

"Before nightfall of the succeeding day I had regained my house, and had replaced the detached stones on the necklace by the little golden hooks that formed their fastenings. With all speed I quitted the presence of the Ganapati, vowing that I would make no more attempt for the present to dispose of the treasure hidden in his entrails.

"A full month had elapsed, and I had ceased to give my exclusive thoughts to the necklace of blue diamonds; for the harvest time was approaching, and I had to make arrangements for the garnering of my crops. My house was in the open country, half a league or so from the nearest village. It was the evening hour, and I was seated in the vestibule of the outer courtyard, having just dismissed the head reaper with whom I had come to terms for the services of himself and his fellows in the fields of grain.

"Glancing along the road I descried what I took to be a band of travelling yogis, in rags, unkempt, some hobbling on crutches. But as I was accustomed to treat with contempt such Hindu beggars, I gave no special heed to their approach.

"All of a sudden, however, when within less than a bow shot of the house, the pretended yogis raised a loud and terrifying yell, and rushed toward me, brandishing staves and daggers. Then did I realize that I was in the presence of a gang of armed dacoits. Before I could summon help, I was mercilessly beaten over the head with bludgeons; after which I was bound hand and foot, and thrown face downward on the divan on which I had been seated. I could hear the sound of a scuffle in the courtyard, and the dying scream of the eunuch who guarded the entrance to the women's apartments, rising high above the frightened cries of my two wives and the children and of the female slaves who attended them. Then, because of the grievous blows that had assailed me, as well as the agony of my mind, consciousness fled, and I lay like one dead unto the world.

"It must have been hours before I was awakened from this stupor, for the moon was riding high in the heavens. Over me was bending the demoniac face of a Hindu priest, a worshipper of Siva as I knew from the caste marks on his forehead.

"'Where is the Ganapati?' he hissed in my ear. 'It is that which we want. We will spare your life if you surrender the stolen god and the blue diamonds.'

"Instantly great joy surged through my heart, for I knew that, whatever other evil fortune had befallen, my secret treasure chamber had not been discovered. And with this joy came the determination that I would rather die than surrender the necklace of blue diamonds, or allow the mocking elephant-headed god to be returned to his place of honour before a crowd of idolatrous worshippers.

"I shall not recount the details of that terrible night. I need but say that I was tortured in a dozen different ways—the soles of my feet were burned with hot embers, the flesh of my thighs was pierced with daggers, I was beaten all over with clubs, and when I lost my senses for a spell I was revived by chatties of cold water being dashed on my face. But I never spoke a word. The very spirit of Shaitan had entered into my soul; if they were devils, then was I the prince of devils in my resolve to defy them.

"I was but faintly conscious of my surroundings, when I heard a whispered colloquy among the priests disguised as robbers.

"'We must not kill him,' I heard one voice say. 'Only if he lives shall we recover the Ganapati.'

"Then also I heard some faint cries from afar off, from the village, showing that the dacoits were discovered, and that courage was being mustered for some attempt to drive them away.

"After a moment the same priest who had addressed me before bent his face once again over mine.

"'Listen, you Moslem son of a pig,' he hissed in my ear. 'Three more warnings will be given to you, and if these do not succeed in making you restore the Ganapati and the jewels then assuredly will you die. You know whence you stole it. Take back the idol to Ferishtapur, or go to the nethermost hell to which you belong.'

"With that he slapped my face again and again, with a slipper taken from his foot, and, writhing in my bonds, I was powerless to revenge, even at the cost of my life, this crowning and abominable insult.

"I must have swooned once more, for dawn was breaking when the craven villagers, satisfied that the robbers and murderers had departed, at last arrived upon the scene, and, loosening the thongs that bound me, re-awakened me to consciousness of my pitiful plight.

"My womenfolk and my three children were uninjured. I found them, cowering and terrified, in an inner chamber. But the infidels had searched every room in their quarters, scattering the contents of chests on the floors. And at sight of this vile desecration the iron of revenge even then entered into my soul.

"The eunuch lay dead in the vestibule leading to the harem. My other servants, who had happened to be outside the house at the time of the assault, had fled, and in the shame of their desertion never again dared to show their faces in my presence. The kotwal of the district made an investigation, but I held my own counsel, and spoke not one word about the Ganapati or the blue diamonds. So the outrage was set down as the work of dacoits, and although in point of fact nothing had been stolen I felt no call on me to disturb this finding of the magistrate.

"About a week later a new disaster overtook me. In the full light of day, when a breeze happened to be blowing, my standing crops were burned, and my fields left a blackened wilderness. By whose hand the fire-brand had been applied, no man could tell. An accident, or the first of the promised warnings?—this I asked myself, and I strove hard to believe that it was ill-luck and nothing more.

"Another full week passed, and I began to hope that the threatened persecution had indeed been abandoned. Recovered from my wounds and bruises, I was able now to be out and about again, endeavouring to restore order to my troubled affairs. One afternoon on my home-coming, I found the women lamenting with loud outcries over the body of my eldest son, a lad of seven years. Unseen by any of the household he had been knocked down on the road and crushed under the wheels of a heavy wagon that was travelling past.

"That night, when his poor little body was being made ready for burial, my elder wife, his mother, led me to the side of the bier. Uncovering the child's shoulder, she showed me a strange mark, as if branded upon the flesh by a hot iron. In the red, angry lines I had no difficulty in tracing the head of a bull, the sacred mark of Siva. I said nothing, and indeed commanded my wife to hold her peace.

"I knew now that this cruel calamity was indeed a warning from the accursed priesthood, who had not even scrupled to murder an innocent child so that they might wreak their vengeance on me or break my will.

"But, if I had been determined before, ten times more now was I resolved never to yield. No cowardly surrender could bring me back my child. The boy was dead, and what was done could not be undone, for the will of God is eternal.

"That very night I visited the Ganapati, and in the frenzy of my bitter grief and righteous wrath I swore, with clenched fist shaken before his twinkling eyeballs, that I would break him into pieces, throw the blue diamonds into a fire of charcoal, and myself die, rather than restore him to the infidels who had destroyed my happiness and my home.

"The next blow fell swifter than ever. Only four days had passed when the bereaved mother, who had refused to be consoled for the death of her only child, was found drowned at the bottom of the well in the harem garden. The household was plunged in lamentation over her pitiful act of self-destruction, and now I became vaguely conscious that friends and neighbours, as well as servants, were looking at me askance, and were beginning to shun my presence as if a curse had fallen upon my head.

"It was at the funeral ceremonies of my wife that I was first made pointedly to feel that there rested over me the suspicion of some terrible crime that had drawn down the special wrath of Allah. Standing in isolation, at a time when my sorrowing heart yearned for brotherly comfort, I realized that already I was an outcast from among my own people, one whom they deemed to be marked by heaven for special vengeance, a moral leper, a menace to the community, to be shunned for all time by his fellow men.

"And there and then I made up my mind to flee secretly to another country, sending later for my surviving wife and children, abandoning all my other possessions in the shape of land and cattle and accumulated stores, but clinging to the blue diamonds which would yet bring me riches out of all proportion to those of which fate was robbing me at the present time.

"For the third and final warning had passed, although no one but myself had thought of my wife's death otherwise than as a case of grief-demented suicide.

"But, as she had lain on her bier, I had looked secretly, and had found the brand of the bull on her shoulder blade, just as she had found it on that of her murdered boy. Allah alone knows how this last crime was wrought—how access to the women's quarters had been gained, and how the fatal seal of Siva had been impressed upon her flesh before she had been flung into the well.

"To me has this ever remained a mystery of mysteries.

"So the three warnings had been delivered—the burning of my crops, the slaying of my child, the drowning of my wife. Unless by the morrow I made signs of submission by taking the road to Ferishtapur, there to surrender the Ganapati, it would assuredly be upon myself that the sword of fate would next descend.

"That very night of the funeral, after securely barricading the outer gates of the house, I locked myself in the treasure chamber. Not a servant had remained in the home upon which the curse of God had descended; even the two women slaves had fled in the dusk of the evening, gone, I knew not whither, and now I little cared. My surviving wife and children, tiny infants, a girl and a boy, were asleep in an inner room; I had glanced at their slumbering forms when passing to the corridor that led to the secret doorway.

"I lost no time in beginning my preparations for departure. First of all I unlocked my strong box, and drew therefrom a small sack of gold mohurs, and another of gold pagodas, also sundry family jewels, armlets and necklets of gold, gemmed rings, and other trinkets of price. All these I tied tightly in a cotton cloth, forming a package that I could conveniently and without undue attention carry at my saddle-bow or in my hand. The bags of silver money, likewise the store of silver bangles, I would leave behind; they were cumbersome, and moreover they would serve to meet the necessities of my wife and children during our period of severance.

"Then I turned to the Ganapati, and after swathing him as before in the cotton quilt, so as to deaden the sound of the gong, with my hands beneath the covering I pressed upon the jewelled eyeballs. I had not gazed upon the blue diamonds since the day when I had restored the two stones shown to the banian merchant in Lahore. As the wheels now clicked and the muffled bell commenced its dulled clangor, the uneasy thought came to my mind that perhaps the treasure had in the interval been spirited away by some devilish jugglery. But when at last silence fell, and I whipped the cloth aside, there reposed the crystal casket, and, the lid of gold removed, my eyes fastened with grim satisfaction upon the clustered heap of gems, gleaming in the light of my tiny oil lamp like drops of rain in a flash of lightning.

"Assured of their safety, I pressed down the cap on the casket, and bound the crystal ball securely in my waistband.

"Then I turned round to seize an iron hammer which I had brought with me for the deliberate purpose of smashing the accursed idol to pieces, partly in revenge, partly to secure the bejewelled eyeballs. But at that very moment I became possessed with the notion that I was not alone in the room. My heart beat wildly, and I raised aloft the little lamp. Nothing but four bare walls, and not even a window through which an enemy might be peering!

"I breathed again, and grasped the handle of the hammer. Yet my uneasy dread was still with me, for I paused once more, this time to listen. Not a sound without, or the whisper of a sound!

"But what was that?—the creak of a timber not louder than if a mouse had stirred. And, directed by the faint sound, I saw the wooden bolt that fastened the door on the inside heave, just once, as if by the pressure of a lever cautiously at work on the other side. The hammer slipped to the rug from my unnerved fingers.

"Lamp in hand, I stole to the door, on tiptoe, step by step, afraid to awaken the echo of a footfall. I touched the wooden bolt with a finger tip; I pressed my ear against the panel. And now, every fibre of my being at tension, my senses quickened by the unseen but certain presence of danger, I could hear at the other side of the thin boards the eager breathing of the fanatic devil of a priest who had come to slay me, miserably trapped like a panther in a pit. At this thought the very blood froze in my veins. My hand relaxed its hold on the lamp, and in its fall the light was extinguished.

"Alone in the dark with the Ganapati, and with the human tiger at the other side of the door, I shrieked aloud.

"In prompt answer to my cry of pent-up agony came the sharp sound of splintering timber, and before me, revealed by the flare of a torch held aloft in one hand, appeared the dread visage of the Hindu priest, contorted now by his mingled emotions of hate and triumph. For his eyes had lighted on the idol, and it was with a shout of joyful recognition, 'Ganapati! Ganapati!' that the fanatic flung himself upon me, and plunged a dagger into my throat. Then the curtain of black forgetfulness descended and covered me with its folds.

"I know not what time elapsed, but I was awakened to the consciousness that I was yet alive by a tongue of flame that leaped at my face, and, scorching my skin, caused me to stir instinctively in self-preservation. Raising my head from the pool of blood in which it had been weltering, and moving my stiffened neck with difficulty because of the dagger wound, the mark of which I carry to this day"—upraising his chin, the fakir laid a finger on a tiny but palpable scar—"I struggled to a sitting posture, and looked about in dazed bewilderment. But ere I could realize what had happened, again the blistering heat of fire that ran along the walls of the room caused me to stagger to my feet. Then as I gazed around, through a haze of smoke illumined by fitful, flickering gleams of ruddy radiance, all of a sudden came remembrance of the deadly assault and comprehension of my present danger.

"One swift sweeping glance showed me that the Ganapati was gone, and that my strong box, too, with its silver hoard had disappeared, together with the package of gold coin and jewellery. My hands went instantly to my waistband; it had been torn open, and the crystal casket that held the blue diamonds abstracted.

"So the murderous priest had not only recovered his own, but had robbed me of my all!

"There was no time, however, to reflect or to moralize, for the loud crackling of fire amid the woodwork warned of my imminent peril. Flinging the skirt of my robe across my face, I made one frantic dash for safety through the splintered panels of the door, the only exit from the room, regardless of the billows of mingled smoke and flame that were now rolling along the corridor.

"Half suffocated, almost blinded by the pungent fumes, my flesh seared, my garments aflame, I reeled into the courtyard of the women's quarters, and threw myself into the fountain splashing in the middle of the marble pavement. Then, drawing myself out of the water like a bedraggled rat, I crawled on hands and knees to the apartment of my wife.

"God! God! It was to find her and our two little children dead—stabbed to the heart on the sleeping mats where they lay."

A sobbing wail burst from the narrator's lips, and he covered his face with his hands. After a time he recovered his self-possession, and resumed, although still in broken tones and with shoulders heaving from emotion.

"I need not dwell on the pitiable story. Gaining the open country, I gazed upon the fierce flames now bursting in a dozen places from the roof of my doomed home, the funeral pyre of the last ones dear to me on earth.

"As I gazed I rent my garments, and raised my voice in loud lamentations. Soon all was consumed, and there remained only the dull glow of red embers. Then I wandered out into the night, stupefied and broken-hearted by the crowning calamity that had overtaken me, afraid even to face my neighbours of the village, naked, penniless, and alone.

"Thus did it come about that I, a man of estate, feudatory of a prince, within the period of a single moon lost wives and children, slaves and retainers, land and crops and cattle, family jewels, stores of gold and of silver, and also the blue diamonds of the idol for the retention of which I had rashly but unknowingly ventured all that I had of happiness in this world.

"And since that day of final disaster I have journeyed over the face of the land trying to find, not the blue diamonds, not my stolen hoard, but that fiend incarnate, the priest of Siva, who slew my wives and children.

"I go about, now a Moslem fakir with the right of entry to the mosques where I may worship the only true God and Mohammed his prophet, now disguised as a Hindu yogi, crying 'Ram, Ram,' so that I may gain access to the temples of the idolators, there to find the Ganapati with the jewelled eyes, and by that token discover the man for whom I am ever seeking. Every year I revisit Ferishtapur, whence the idol was originally taken by my hand from the wrecked temple, but thither neither the priest nor the Ganapati has ever returned. At other times I travel from one city to another, searching for temples, mingling with the devotees at the recurring festivals, the Holi, the Durgapuga, the feast of lanterns, and watching the processions when the idols and their custodians visit each other's shrines or go to the river for the blessing of the waters. But wander where I may, priest or Ganapati have I never seen again.

"Thus have passed fifty long years, during which I have lived for one thing alone, and that——revenge!"

* * * * *

Pausing before the last word, then uttering it in a scream that pierced the night air, the fakir sprang to his feet, and, swept by a sudden gust of overmastering passion, raised his hands high to heaven—a weird and eerie figure in the silver sheen of the moon.

"Deen! deen! deen!" he cried, dancing around as he shrilly voiced the fanatic call to massacre—the dread call which through the centuries has drenched with human blood a thousand shrines, both Moslem mosques and Hindu temples.

"Subah!" shouted the Afghan general, half rising, his hand on his sword hilt. "Stop that, you son of a dog, or I will make you meat for jackals. Subah!" At the reiterated stern command the dancing figure became instantly rigid. Then, just as suddenly as he had leaped from his crouching attitude, the fakir sank to the ground in a huddled heap, his face buried in the dust.

"You would be happier to-day, O man of many sorrows, had you followed the philosophy of 'kooch perwani'—had you said to yourself: 'What is done is done, and cannot be undone. Let it pass. Kooch perwani—no matter.'"

It was the Rajput who was speaking, in rebuke yet in commiseration.

"Even when all seemed lost" continued the Hindu soldier, "you should have forgotten the blue diamonds, the abiding greed for which was the real cause of your undoing; you should have forgotten your lost wealth and honourable position, your dear ones gone to the abode of bliss, the enemies who had despitefully used you but who, as your own religion teaches, were in truth only God's emissaries sent to punish you for your sins. It is the philosophy of 'kooch perwani' that teaches us to forget the dead past, do the work of the vital present, and by doing it aright build for the future an edifice of happiness and contentment. Had you followed that philosophy, O fakir, you might have been again to-day rich in the good things of the world."

The mendicant raised his face from the dust. "To which I reply, O prince,—kooch perwani. By the ordeals through which I have passed I have come to learn that the treasures of this world are of no account. Therefore is my philosophy to-day greater than your own. You wear costly robes, I the loin cloth of the beggar. Kooch perwani; for when death comes, we are equals. There is no pocket to a shroud."



VI. THE TIGER OF THE PATHANS

TOLD BY THE AFGHAN GENERAL

"In my case the philosophy of life is of the simplest," remarked the Afghan general. "I neither crave the wealth of the prince, nor do I inflict upon myself the mortifications of the ascetic. For the one rich robes and the sceptre, for the other a loin cloth and a begging-bowl; but for me the good sword that commands respect from my enemies, confidence from my friends, and my due share of the good things of existence. In this frame of mind I find the full measure of joy in each day that passes."

He smiled the smile of the man contented with the world and with himself, but there was the light of proud determination in his eyes that belied the mere sybarite.

"Then for you the greatest good consists in the happiness you can snatch from the passing hour," suggested the magistrate.

"That is so," concurred the soldier, "if to the word happiness you give the right interpretation. To me the performance of one's present duty is the only real thing that brings contentment. And duty need not always be stern and forbidding; to laugh and play and be merry may, at the proper time and in the proper circumstances, be a duty both to ourselves and to others. When one lives philosophically for the present, he takes men in all their moods and life in all its phases. The past is counted as dead and to be forgotten, except for the experience gained to guide the doing of the things that lie now to one's hand. The future is unseen, but is none the less determined by our deeds, words, and thoughts of the passing moment, each one of which, be it remembered, whether deed or rash word, or unspoken thought, has consequences that are eternal."

"So for the man whose mind is thus attuned," again interposed the magistrate, "the present becomes all supreme, shaped by the past, shaping the future."

"Which means that destiny never degenerates into mere blind and helpless fatalism," responded the Afghan. "To do the right now suffices to give absolute trust in God for the hereafter. That is the key of destiny, and each man holds it in his own keeping."

"A simple religion," smiled the Rajput.

"And therefore the best. It is the religion of Islam freed from all the controversies of rival sects and over-learned mullahs. It is the religion of my fathers and the religion of my youth, and in it I abide. Let me tell you a story of the rough school in which I received my early training and where such thoughts as these first began to sink deep into my mind.

* * * * *

"Have you ever heard of Shir Jumla Khan? No? Well, that is doubtless because he has been dead for a full score of years, and because he held his sway in a land remote from these plains of Hindustan, up in the rugged mountains, where brave tribesmen guard the valleys which their ancestors tilled, and yield allegiance to no one but their own hereditary chieftains. Such was my country and my people, for I am proud that in my veins runs the blood of the man who for a hundred miles around my boyhood home was known as The Tiger of the Pathans. Behold in me a grandson of Shir Jumla Khan."