"But what about the country—and Sher Singh?"

"Sher Singh is safe in Agpur. We've got him shut up there, at any rate. But Granthistan is in a blaze, Hal. The Commander-in-Chief is on his way up-country. It's another Granthi War—thanks to their delay."

"And our Granthis?"

"Oh, they marched off bag and baggage to join Sher Singh the other night, when the news came that we were not to be reinforced till the cold weather. I didn't hear of their going till they had nearly reached Agpur, and I wasn't particularly anxious to stop them when I did."

"Better rid of them. You know they fired blank all day—the day of the battle, I mean?"

"That was the trick, was it? I couldn't get it out of you. Not that it would have made much difference if I had known, I suppose. I tell you, Hal, there was a moment when, if only the heavy artillery had come up, we held Sher Singh in the hollow of our hands. He was in such a panic when he got back to Agpur that he actually fired on his own troops when they crowded across the bridge after him. They would have handed him over to us like lambs if we could have threatened the city then. But it's no use crying over spilt milk. I'm going to make use of this interval in hostilities to send you to Ranjitgarh for a bit, old boy. If they won't use the river to send us our big guns, we may use it to recruit our invalids a bit. It can't be as hot at Ranjitgarh as it is here. But I put you on your honour to come back. No one must lead the Habshiabadis into Agpur but you. You will find me relegated to my original obscurity by that time, with a duly appointed Brigadier—a nya jawan[2]—riding roughshod over my tenderest feelings, but you can still swagger as the officer accompanying the forces of a friendly state."

Gerrard had not been listening. "Bob," he whispered, "I—I can't go to Ranjitgarh."

"Why not, old boy'?"

"She may be there. They will have fetched the ladies down from the hills if there is trouble."

"I think not. Old Cinnamond has taken the field, but there are plenty of troops in Ranjitgarh. But if she is there, Hal?"

"I might speak—I ain't master of myself, Bob."

"Well, my dear fellow, and why not? Have you forgot what I said—that you were to have the next turn? Speak, by all means, and take her with my blessing, if she'll take you."

"Bob, I won't have it. I have been making a fool of myself when I didn't know what I was saying, and you are behaving like a brick because you are sorry for me."

"Ton my word, it's nothing of the sort. I can say now what I wouldn't say once, that I had rather see her happy with you than unhappy with me. I'm not going to let you outdo me there, you see, though I may be a little bit late."

"Good old Bob!" said Gerrard weakly.

"Not a bit of it. Ain't we chums, old boy? Now remember, pop goes the weasel!"



[1] Mutineers.

[2] New hand.



CHAPTER XXI.

FAINT HEART AND FAIR LADY.

"My dear, I fear you will think I have been indiscreet."

Mrs James Antony looked up, and caught her husband's humourously deprecating expression. "Oh, James, I know that means you have done something dreadful, and want me to get you out of the difficulty!" she sighed. "Well, love, what is it?"

"I have sent a kasid to meet poor Gerrard, to tell him he is to come to us, and we will take no refusal. As soon as the man was gone, I remembered that you would probably object to his being thrown into Miss Cinnamond's company."

"But surely you must see for yourself, love, that it would be most awkward for both of them? I almost think I had better ask Mrs Jardine to take in dear Honour for the time. She would be delighted, I am sure."

"You know best, my dear. If Lady Cinnamond would not mind finding herself under such an obligation to Mrs Jardine, it is not for me to make objections."

"She would dislike it extremely, love, as you well know. But what else is there to be done?"

"I don't myself see why there should be any awkwardness at all," said James Antony sturdily. "If Miss Cinnamond is going to marry Gerrard, they had better come to an understanding and get it over, and if not—why, they will have to meet in the future, and they may as well begin now. If the girl chooses to be silly about it, she had better go back to her mother."

"But, James, love, you don't consider. How could I let her go back, knowing that poor dear Mrs Cowper has taken such a dislike to her sister? Now that she has lost her babe, it would be terrible if they met before time had softened her grief a little. And it is not as if dear Honour were in the least to blame. I am sure she was keeping house for her father most beautifully when he was compelled to take the field. We are indebted to the Cinnamonds for so many civilities that it would be hard indeed if we could not help them out of a difficulty by entertaining the poor girl for a while."

"Quite so, my dear, but it would also be hard if the poor girl could not help us by assisting to entertain a fellow-guest for a while. In fact, I consider that by bringing them to a mutual understanding we should be doing a kindness not only to the young people themselves but to the General and Lady Cinnamond."

"Certainly they have no objection to Lieutenant Gerrard," said Mrs Antony meditatively.

"None whatever, my dear, so that we shall positively be furthering their wishes. Come, Jane; ain't I only wise in bringing my indiscretions to you to set right, since you are such a dab at getting me out of a mess?"

"Fie, James, what slang! Indeed I don't wonder you affect to consult me, since it seems to me you will get your own way undisturbed."

James Antony might go on his way with his great laugh, and his wife shake her head at him in purely simulated reproof, but the results of their involuntary diplomacy were hardly as satisfactory to the objects thereof as to themselves. Gerrard's heart gave an ecstatic bound when his host mentioned casually on meeting him that Miss Cinnamond was staying at the Residency during the absence of her father at the front and her mother in the hills. All the way from the camp within sight of Agpur, during the hot voyage diversified with interludes of sniping from the river-banks, he had assured himself persistently that nothing should induce him to take advantage of Bob's generosity. But these good resolutions were forgotten as he lay in the palanquin which conveyed him from the landing-place to the Residency, listening, without comprehending what was said, to James Antony's gruff voice firing off items of latest intelligence like minute-guns. In a few moments he would see Honour, look into her frank eyes, hold her cool hand, begin the siege of her heart in which his faithful love—freed from the disturbing influence of Charteris's presence—must surely succeed in breaking down the rampart of maiden coldness within which she had entrenched herself. Yes, he was glad of Charteris's absence; thankful for it. Bob had bidden him of his own free will to go ahead, and was he to waste the opportunity for which he had so long yearned in vain?

But disappointment was waiting for him at the Residency. Honour remained so persistently in the background behind Mrs Antony that it seemed almost as if she was hiding. Her hand barely touched Gerrard's, her eyes shunned his, and her manner was constrained—almost awkward. Before Gerrard had crossed the verandah he had divined a reason for this change: she had read her own heart at last, and it was Bob Charteris that she loved. And here was he, lagging miserably superfluous on the stage for three or four weeks, while Charteris was held fast by his duties before Agpur, and was as unaware of his good fortune as he was unable to profit by it.

Second thoughts brought, if not a degree of hope, at least a less complete yielding to despair. Perhaps it was not Charteris whose image blinded Honour to the presence of her other lover. It might only be that people had been talking, that Mrs Jardine had presumed to offer Honour some advice inconsistent with the delicate nature of the situation, perhaps urged her to terminate it in Gerrard's favour, since she had, unasked, taken his candidature under her wing. That would be quite sufficient to account for the girl's coolness and constraint. The battle was not, then, absolutely lost, and it might even yet be possible to turn it into a victory. Gerrard would be very cautious, very diplomatic, and would keep their intercourse on the safe ground of their common preferences in prose and poetry, until he had enabled her to dissociate him in her mind from his too zealous champions.

Save in one respect, Honour responded to this treatment with a readiness that was almost embarrassing. Her novel shyness fell from her when it became clear that Gerrard was not intending immediately to speak to her of love, and in discussing the new Dickens and the latest Tennyson she revealed herself to him almost as freely as of old. James Antony agonized his wife by portentous nods and winks behind their backs, indicative of the complete and final understanding now in course of accomplishment, but Mrs Antony was not so well satisfied, though she was unaware of the exact nature of the rift in Gerrard's lute. One day Honour broke into a deep discussion of the social and educational topics touched on in the Princess with a question which had no relation to them whatever. It was clear that her thoughts were far from Gerrard's exposition of his views, or why should she suddenly have asked how long it took him to reach Charteris at Kardi with the guns after receiving his note entreating him to hasten? Gerrard set his teeth. It was Charteris, then. He answered the question fully, and also the others by which it was followed. Honour's curiosity on the subject of the unauthorised operations in Agpur seemed insatiable, and bit by bit she drew from him the whole history of the campaign. Following her lead, he made a loyal endeavour to keep Charteris in the forefront of his narrative, smiling bitterly to himself when once or twice she questioned him directly about his own doings. This was mere politeness, of course, it was Charteris in whom she was really interested.

The irony of his own anticipations struck Gerrard forcibly after a fortnight or so principally spent in talking about Charteris. Outside the air was filled with wars and rumours of wars, with reports that the Granthi army was moving on Ranjitgarh, or that this or the other Sirdar was about to cut the communications with Agpur, and in the society of James Antony and his intimates these were the topics that everybody discussed. But spending the mid-day hours in the damp heat of the drawing-room, where paper grew mouldy and the covers peeled off books, under the influence of the rains, with Mrs Antony occupied at a discreet distance with reading or letter-writing, Gerrard endured what would have been martyrdom but for the bitter-sweet sense of Honour's presence—possessing which he could not be wholly miserable. Continually there forced itself on him the change in her since the days when they had lamented together the supposed death of Charteris. She was restless, prone to a curious impatience, and the literary interests which had first drawn them together satisfied her no more. Only one explanation could fit the facts. Bob Charteris was not literary in his tastes, and Honour, with her heart awakened, had learnt to know that life was more than books.

As the time approached for Gerrard's return to active service, it struck him that she had perceived her unconscious cruelty, and was endeavouring to atone for it. He loved her the better for the thought, though it made him all the more miserable, since the tenderness in her voice, the tears he sometimes surprised in her eyes, must spring from a pity that was not at all akin to love. No doubt, too, she was thinking of Charteris, keeping the field in the rains, and extensively abused on all sides as the cause of the war, and Gerrard would have liked to assure her that he understood, and to prophesy a general revulsion of feeling when the Agpur business had been brought to a successful conclusion. But apparently sympathy was at a discount with Honour, for the slightest attempt to approach the subject—even an honest effort to assure her that Bob's safety should be his first care in the future, for her sake—brought back at once the sense of constraint, and made her manner hard and impatient, not to say snappish. Their final parting took place in public, but this was Gerrard's own fault, for he could not trust himself alone with her. He might have been a weak fool to hang about her for so long, but to offer himself as a bearer of tender messages for Charteris was beyond him. She was very pale, and seemed to find difficulty in speaking, and he guessed at once that she was envying him his good fortune in seeing her lover so soon. But his selfishness in refusing to volunteer as a messenger was rightly punished, for Mrs Jardine, who had seen fit to appear at the Residency to borrow a fancy-work pattern from Mrs Antony, just as he was about to start, was not minded to leave things longer in the uncertainty which had tried her so deeply.

"What! no message for poor Mr Charteris?" she inquired archly, as Honour's hand touched Gerrard's to the accompaniment of a single murmured word of farewell.

"Miss Cinnamond knows that I should feel honoured in carrying any message of hers," he said stiffly.

Honour blushed red, though she looked annoyed. "Oh, give him my best wishes, please!" she said lightly.

"Very distant and suitable, I'm sure!" muttered Mrs Jardine, much disappointed, but Honour did not hear her.

"You have not asked for any message—for yourself," she murmured, looking at Gerrard's sword-belt as if she had never seen one quite like it before.

"I did not venture—it is only your kindness that makes you think of it," he stammered.

"Perhaps you would rather not have it?" She raised her eyes for an instant and looked at him bravely. "My very best wishes—to you."

"Bus, bus!" shouted James Antony from the foot of the steps. "Don't be all day binding ladies' favours on your helm, Gerrard, my boy. Get it over; it ain't as bad as it looks."

He ran up the steps again, and his great hand descended heavily on Gerrard's shoulder, and Gerrard, thrilled through by the glance Honour had turned upon him, and with all his preconceived ideas shattered and clashing under the impact of a wholly new thought, must perforce allow himself to be hurried away, vaguely aware that Mrs Jardine, baulked of her expected sensation, was apostrophizing the acting-Resident as a "naughty man!" At the foot of the steps he turned suddenly. One word with Honour, even in Mrs Jardine's hearing, and his doubts would be resolved for ever. But James Antony fairly dragged him on.

"No looking back now, my dear fellow. You must make me your messenger if you have anything to say. Do you forget that they are waiting for you at the ghat?"

Gerrard mounted his pony reluctantly, then looked eagerly round. Honour's face might end his doubts as easily as her voice. But she was not to be seen; Mrs Jardine was nodding and smiling alone in the verandah, rather to the disgust of Mrs Antony, who was dimly visible in the doorway of the drawing-room. Gerrard could not detect the form crouched behind her spreading skirts, the face peering under her falling sleeve, and once again doubt attained mastery over his mind. If Honour had meant really to rebuke him for his backwardness, then was he indeed the most blessed of men, but perhaps she was only mildly chaffing Charteris's friend. It was not like her, but could one moment at parting give the lie to the experience, the settled certainty, of weeks of close intercourse? And she had not cared to wait to see him ride away!

During the river voyage, despite the ample opportunity he enjoyed for forming definite conclusions, Gerrard remained balanced between two contradictory opinions, and he was still much tumbled up and down in his mind when he landed and fell into the eminently bracing company of Charteris. British troops and siege-guns—not now to be spared from Granthistan—had come and were still coming up from Bombay, and the lines which had been fortified by the Darwanis and Habshiabad force were now only part of an extensive position. Charteris pointed out the various spots, much changed now since the battle in which Gerrard had received his wound, as they rode up to the camp.

"Then you are under the yoke again, Bob?" said Gerrard.

"Rayther, just a very few! The Brigadier has determined in his own mind that I am dead set upon presuming, so, to make it impossible, he snaps my head off every time he sees me, and at once."

"Hard luck, old boy!"

"Oh, I share it with my betters. By the bye, is it true that the Governor-General has been powdering Sir Edmund's wig?"

"In a way. Antony wanted to promise Sher Singh his life if he would surrender, and the G.-G. came down upon him like a hundred of bricks. Told him that if he had put forth any such proclamation he would have to recall it, I believe, but happily things had not gone so far."

"I'm sorry for Sir Edmund, but I back Blairgowrie—which is jolly handsome behaviour, since he has written some uncommon nasty things about me. 'Pon my word, Hal, I'm right glad that they refused us our siege-guns, and left us here tied by the leg for the hot weather."

Gerrard looked at him in astonishment. "But if we had been able to stamp out Sher Singh's rebellion—as we could have done if they had supported us properly—it would have saved this second Granthi War, Bob."

"That's just it. We should have gone on trying to govern through the Durbar, and declaring that we were merely taking care of the country until Lena Singh comes of age, knowing that if he ever reigned alone it would mean the destruction of all we had done. But now the farce is at an end, and they must annex Granthistan. Our ikbal[1] stands fairly high, but it can't take the risk of a war bad enough to drag the C.-in-C. from his Olympian retirement every two or three years. I'm sorry for Sir Edmund, who has done his very best to bolster up the Durbar, but facts are too strong for him."

"He will take it hard," said Gerrard. "Here is my camp, I see—my campoo,[2] I should say," as they were met by a cluster of salaaming Habshiabadis, who testified loudly their joy at his return. "But why shouldn't I report myself to the Brigadier at once, Bob, and then come back and settle in?"

"Because you ain't wanted, my boy. You don't go dropping in on your General in that promiscuous style. You wait till it's convenient to him to send for you, and then you apologize for your existence in the most abject terms at your command. I happen to know—friend at court, you see—that you'll be summoned about sunset, and if you behave very nicely, and answer prettily when you're spoken to, you may even be honoured by an invitation to dinner."

"Learning one's place!" said Gerrard, with a wry look.

"Exactly—as I have been doing. Our days of independent action are over, old boy. If we had been allowed to capture Agpur it might have been different, but I don't know. Who wouldn't go from governing kingdoms to take up regimental work again?"

Gerrard did not possess the art of banishing unpleasantness with a jest, and his brow was clouded as they rode up to his tent between the lines of the Habshiabadis. For them, however, he had nothing but praise, rejoicing their hearts by admiration of their discipline, and learning, as he expected, that Charteris had continued their military education during his absence. General Desdichado was still maintaining a judicious seclusion, owing to a fresh attack of illness, it seemed, and Charteris remarked on the curious character of the ailment, which invariably became acute when there was a question of the General's coming in contact with any British officer.

"Scandal says that nothing but Sadiq Ali's direct command keeps him in the field at all," he added. "Otherwise he would sneak back to Habshiabad, and drink himself to death there in peace."

They were inside the tent now, and Charteris turned suddenly on his friend. "Well, Hal, what news? Is that blessing of mine wanted, or not?"

"It's no good pretending I don't know what you mean, but on my life, Bob, I can't tell you."

"Can't tell—in a matter of this kind? Nonsense!"

"It's this way. Almost the whole of the time I was there I could have sworn she cared for you. We talked of nothing but you and your doings."

"Precious little in that. You did just the same when you thought I was dead, and it meant absolutely nothing."

"But it makes every possible difference when we both know you are alive. At any rate, I was too jolly downhearted to court another refusal. But just as I came away, she looked at me in a way that made me think—and something that she said——"

"And you didn't make sure? My young friend, it strikes me that you fear your fate a good deal."

"Our Mr James hurried me away. But I am afraid—and I don't mind saying so—of risking my last chance."

"Why your last? I wish I were coxcomb enough to be sure it was your last, and that you would lose it."

"But even if she refused us both again, you can't go on persecuting a girl who has said no to you three times."

"Why not? I shall go on asking her, if she says no a hundred times. It's for her own good. No girl can really wish to be an old maid."

"Rather than marry you or me, perhaps."

"That shows how little she knows about it. But I give you my word she ain't going to lose a good husband through any slackness of mine. You won't find me wasting my opportunities as you have been doing."

"You pitch it pretty strong, Bob, but I believe I deserve it. Still, it was not my fault that I could not settle things that last moment. Will you do this for me, old boy? When we get back to Ranjitgarh, leave me free to speak to her if I meet her first. If I find that it is you after all, I promise you to make no attempt to persuade her, and if you meet her first, of course you will find out for yourself."

"I believe you, my boy! And I only hope we may find out definitely. This uncertainty plays the very mischief with a man when he has time to think of it."

"My dear Bob, you don't mean to say you would rather know that all was up with you than be able to go on hoping?"

"That I would! One can set one's teeth then, and grin and bear it, but it's horrid disturbing, when you're trying to give your mind to regular hard grinding work, for the thought of all that kind of thing to be always intruding."

"If I didn't know you better than you know yourself, old boy, I should say not only that you didn't care a pin for her, but that you couldn't. Why, how could one carry on work at all without those very thoughts to help one?"

"You're getting libellous, Hal. It's the uncertainty, not the thoughts, that I find disturbing. If she would take me—bless her!—I'll lay you anything you like she would be the Commander-in-Chief's lady in the shortest time on record."

"Bob, it's precious hard on both of us. Whichever gets her, one of us must be miserable."

"Let us make quite sure that she's happy, then. But it's a little late to be talking like this, ain't it? What I find most cause to blame in you, Hal, is a tendency to the sentimental. Turn your mind strictly to business—namely, to receiving the orderly who is about to summon you to the presence of the high and mighty Speathley."

After the warning he had received, Gerrard was not likely to be late for his appointment, but when he arrived at Major-General Speathley's headquarters, it was evident that the Brigadier thought it salutary for junior officers to cool their heels a little in his anteroom. A number of other men were hanging about, and a low buzz of conversation filled the tent. Gerrard was known by name to most of those present, and he was soon in possession of the chief item of interest which was agitating the camp. That morning's reconnaissance had been pushed as far as Ratan Singh's tomb, which had been occupied without opposition, and a careful search had revealed the shallow grave in which the dishonoured remains of Nisbet and Cowper had been hastily hidden after the tragedy in the spring.

"The old man swears he will turn out Ratan Singh—whoever he may have been—and give the poor chaps a pucca funeral in the shrine itself," said one youth.

"I was not aware that we fought with the dead," said Gerrard, rather disgusted.

"Seems rayther a spicy idea to me," drawled another. "They do our fellows out of a grave, so we prig one of theirs for 'em."

"Surely we can do better for them than a second-hand tomb," said Gerrard, more emphatically than he realised. "Wouldn't it be more to the purpose to leave Ratan Singh in peace, since he has done us no injury, and punish the living who deserve it?"

"Eh—what?" demanded an explosive voice behind the group. "And who may you be, young sir, who think your opinion so well worth hearing?"

Gerrard turned to confront a short choleric man in uniform, whom he had no difficulty in recognising to be the Brigadier. "My name is Gerrard, sir, and I am attached to the Habshiabad force."

"Oho!" General Speathley drew out with some difficulty an eyeglass, and fixing it in his eye, looked up at Gerrard as though he had been too small to see without it. "So this is another of the sucking Caesars who command armies in Granthistan! And what, pray, may be the nature of your very valuable suggestion, sir?"

"I have acted as Resident at Agpur, sir, and know something about the people, and I was about to say that they would be far more impressed with the retribution if we buried our glorious dead in the very midst of the city from which they were driven rather than in an old tomb outside it."

The astonishment on the General's face was reflected on those around him. Clearly it was not often that Brigadier Speathley heard an opinion different from his own. "Proceed, sir, proceed!" he snapped ferociously. "I'll be bound we haven't been favoured with the full extent of your views yet."

The tone was intolerable, and Gerrard grew white with suppressed wrath. "I have no more to say, sir, if the petty and unchristian course of turning a dead man out of his grave has already been decided upon."

"I thought so!" cried the General in triumph. "Antony's cursed sentimental notions, of course—might have known it. You are one of those who prefer the blackfellows to your own people, sir, who think the lives of the Company's servants are nothing compared with the fear of displeasing the natives."

"At least, sir, I placed myself at Mr Charteris's disposal to rescue or avenge Captain Cowper and Mr Nisbet, or your army might not have been here to-day. And you will permit me to add that I still consider my plan likely to be more impressive, if less disgusting, to the natives than yours."

"And you'll permit me to say, sir," roared the General, whose eyes were protruding from his head, "that my plan will be carried out if every pestilent political in Granthistan is opposed to it. It's high time you came back to duty, sir. You seconded subalterns think no small beer of yourselves, I know, but you'll learn better here, I can tell you, and you'll find—— Eh, what's that?"

An unobtrusive aide-de-camp was presenting a paper at his elbow, and as he read it his face changed, but by no means cleared. "Hum—ha!" he muttered, "it seems you have some fancy status here—political trick, I suppose—some quibble about Habshiabad lying outside Granthistan. But it's all one. If you ain't under my command, you don't get mentioned in my despatches—see? Eh, how does that suit you, sir?"

"I am honoured by the omission, sir," said Gerrard.



[1] Prestige.

[2] Native force under European leadership.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE TRIUMPH OF THE DEAD.

The siege of Agpur was in full swing, the big guns battering at the walls from a distance, while the trenches crept nearer and nearer to the outlying suburbs. Nisbet and Cowper still slept in their desecrated grave in the precincts of Ratan Singh's tomb, not because the mind of General Speathley had yielded in the least to Gerrard's arguments, but on account of the opportune arrival of the ammunition for which the army had been waiting, and which enabled active work to begin at once. A chilly neutrality reigned between the Brigadier and the officer accompanying the Habshiabad troops, who saw as little as possible of one another, finding it advisable to communicate through a third person. This was usually Charteris, who stood aghast when he found what a gulf had been established between them.

"If it had been me to go into a passion and use insubordinate language, no one would have wondered," he lamented. "But you, Hal—who have barely lost your temper three times in your life! And on a mere matter of sentiment, too!"

"Didn't you yourself accuse me of a tendency to the sentimental?"

"That was in an affair in which it was more or less natural. But when it comes to being cut out of despatches for the sake of a dead blackfellow——! Seriously, old boy, it may be bad for you in the future."

"You know as well as I do whether mention in despatches would have the slightest weight with a certain lady if she cared for a man. And if she didn't, what in the world does it signify losing it?"

"Poor beggar, he's got 'em badly!" mused Charteris, as he left his friend's tent. His own sphere of influence being situated within the confines of Granthistan, he was indubitably subordinate to General Speathley, but a certain power of accommodating himself to his surroundings had saved him from incurring the Brigadier's active enmity. He could never be wholly forgiven for taking on his own account those preliminary steps which must always prevent the conquest of Agpur from being ascribed to the Bombay Army, but he had sufficient tact, or worldly wisdom, to refrain from such allusions to the fact as Gerrard had let fall.

* * * * * *

The beleaguered garrison of Agpur were not minded to take their punishment lying down. At first Sher Singh had sent various ambassadors professing his readiness to surrender if his life was guaranteed, and when the authorities on the spot proved adamant, indited heart-rending letters to Sir Edmund Antony, entreating his intervention. But the Governor-General had spoken too plainly to admit any possibility of mistake, or even a loophole for mediation, and Sir Edmund, wounded and resentful as he felt over the treatment meted out to him, could only repeat the promise already given of a fair trial for the Rajah if he surrendered, and protection for his women. Thereupon Sher Singh's attempts at negotiation ceased, and his followers applied themselves with ardour to making the besiegers' position as uncomfortable as possible, by means of sorties and surprise attacks. There was always the chance of an outbreak of disease in the British camp, or even a successful diversion on the part of the revolted Granthistan army, such as might compel the raising of the siege.

For some nights there had been no attempt at a surprise, and the trenches had been advanced to a point at which it was intended to erect a new battery to assail the portion of the city walls best adapted for breaching. The construction of this battery was being busily pushed forward in the dark, by the help of shaded lights, when the working-party were fiercely assailed by a horde of the enemy, mounted and on foot, who had poured silently through the gate nearest to the threatened point, and almost reached the works before their presence was detected. The whole of the British force stood to its arms, but salutary experience had taught the leaders that sorties seldom came singly, and only the troops nearest the point of attack were moved to repulse it. On the further side of the city Gerrard had a hard task to restrain the eagerness of his men, who could not see why they should be kept out of the fight, and avenged themselves by detecting endless imaginary sorties against their own position. It was a night of peculiar blackness, and General Desdichado, who had been drawn from his seclusion by the alarm, evidently found it trying to his nerves. His agitation culminated at last in a wild charge into the darkness, followed by as many of the Habshiabadis as could find their horses, yelling and discharging their muskets into the night. Gerrard, hoarse with his vain exertions, half amused and half disgusted, was left with Rukn-ud-din and the Rajput Amrodh Chand and their men to defend the camp. He turned to make an ironical remark to the former, but found him standing like a statue, listening intently.

"Sahib, there come men from the city. As they crossed the bridge, I heard their horses' feet on the planks."

"Let us go forward a short distance," said Gerrard, and they went out into the gloom, the tumult of the Habshiabadis' charge on the left growing faint in their ears. They could hear nothing of the advance Rukn-ud-din thought he had detected, and Gerrard, concluding that the man's ears had deceived him, was about to suggest returning to the camp, when a distant flash of lightning, such as had been playing on the horizon during the earlier part of the evening, lit up the landscape, and showed a company of horsemen riding cautiously away from the city. Their aim was evidently to pass between the camp of the Habshiabadis and that of the next besieging unit, and they had almost accomplished their purpose when they were seen.

"The brother-slayer seeks to steal away by night!" cried Rukn-ud-din fiercely, and without another word he and Gerrard turned and raced for the camp. One moment to despatch an orderly with a request to Charteris to detail some of his Darwanis to guard the tents until General Desdichado saw fit to return, and another to acquaint the Brigadier with the importance of the crisis, and all the troop were in their saddles and thundering out in pursuit. There was no need for secrecy, for the fugitives had now laid aside their caution, and could be heard riding for all they were worth, and the result of the chase would depend on speed, not cunning. So thick was the darkness that more than once Gerrard was obliged to draw rein, and in the silence palpitating with the breath of excited men and horses, listen for the pursued, but it was soon clear that they were maintaining a fairly straight line for the north. There they must sooner or later be stopped by the river—unless, indeed, the plot included the bribing of some of the native contractors supplying the British to have their boats available, and Gerrard redoubled his efforts to catch them up before they reached it. Accidents arising from irrigation-canals or unsuspected nullahs delayed him once or twice, but when the dawn broke a shout of triumph burst from his weary men. The fugitives were full in view, and there were women among them. Their horses were obviously flagging, and the dark line which denoted the brink of the now flooded river was still some distance in front. Barely, however, had the troopers given vent to their irrepressible joy at the prospect of so important a capture, with the loot which would almost certainly accompany it, when one of them, happening to look behind, uttered a cry of surprise and disgust. The pursuers were themselves pursued, a body of Bombay cavalry following hard upon their heels. Gerrard set his teeth angrily as he looked round and verified the man's information. General Speathley was determined not to allow even this minor exploit to fall to the share of his allies.

The Rani's contingent needed no words to induce them to get the utmost out of their horses in order if possible to reach the fugitives first, but the pursuers gained upon them steadily, and when the two parties were actually riding level, and an orderly appeared at his elbow, Gerrard was reluctantly forced to turn and accept a written order desiring him to give up the pursuit into the hands of the officer commanding the troops. To share the honour would have been bad enough, to lose it altogether was monstrous, and his men eyed the Bombay troopers with such disfavour as made it evident that little was wanting to bring about a fratricidal fight. Gerrard was obliged to fling himself into the breach, and argue and persuade his sullen sowars into allowing themselves to be drawn off. The incident had caused a slight loss of time, and it was some consolation to the disappointed ones that the fugitives had contrived to increase their distance before the Bombay troop were in motion again. Pride forbade Gerrard and his followers to wait and see the result of the chase, and they turned their horses' heads towards Agpur, disdaining to seek more definite information than could be obtained by furtive glances backwards on the part of the rear-rank men, whose observations percolated from one to another until they reached their commander. In this way Gerrard learned that the fugitives had been caught up on, or at any rate near, the very brink of the river, and that a brisk fight was proceeding. He had a resentful impulse to take his troop on at full speed, that they might not behold the triumph of the interlopers, but the horses were tired, and there was no sense in riding them hard now. Without the excitement of the chase to stimulate them, the men flagged after their long night's work, and it was a dispirited and sulky-looking band that watched the victorious Bombay troop ride proudly by, escorting their captives. The conquerors expressed their feelings by gestures of derision, which Gerrard's men were too much crushed to return, and vanished ahead in a cloud of dust. But when the vanquished tailed dolefully into camp some hours later, they were met by their Habshiabadi comrades, eager to inform them that the triumph had not been so complete after all. The majority of the fugitives had been captured, including Sher Singh's favourite wife and her attendants, but the Rajah himself had spurred his horse into the river and been carried quickly by the swollen current beyond reach of pursuit. It would have been too much to expect the Rani's men to feel any sorrow at this news, but politeness demanded that they should express it, and fatigue was forgotten in the delight of donning fresh clothes and paying visits of condolence to the camp of the Bombay cavalry. The keenest joy came from the fact which was on every man's lips, that but for the delay caused by the change of pursuers, Sher Singh's whole party might have been surrounded and captured before it reached the brink of the river.

But if the disappointment of Sher Singh's escape was outweighed in the men's minds by the fact that it was through their rivals' fingers he had slipped, Gerrard was not able to console himself so easily. Charteris, who had heard with burning indignation of the treatment he had received, hurried to his tent to sympathize with him, and it seemed as though the two men had exchanged characters, as Gerrard strode up and down, breathing out furious threats against the Brigadier, while his friend, seated precariously astride a camp-chair, sought to interject counsels of prudence.

"It's not so much the insult to me personally that I resent, as the loss of the opportunity of ending the campaign at a blow!" cried Gerrard.

"Quite so. You wouldn't," said Charteris soothingly.

"Though it's perfectly clear that he was merely pursuing his grudge against me. He even stoops to vilify my poor fellows in order to justify himself. I hear that he said it was impossible to entrust such an important capture to an officer not under his authority, and to troops which had probably been bribed already to let Sher Singh slip past."

"You had visitors before I came, then?"

"A whole lot of 'em. Uncommon sympathetic they were, too."

"Uncommon pleased to get up a row between you and old Speathley, I should say. Don't you listen to 'em, Hal."

"My dear Bob, there are some things one can't pass over. We have submitted to Speathley's caprices too long, and it's time to speak out. Personal injustice may be forgiven——"

"Precious little forgiveness about you just now," muttered Charteris.

"But when it is a case of injury to the public service, it is necessary to make a stand," concluded Gerrard impressively.

"Oh, all right; and what's your idea of making a stand? Challenging Speathley, or denouncing him to his face?"

"I shall write to the papers."

"Sort of thing Lennox and Keeling are always doing," said Charteris carelessly. "Not quite our style, eh? But if your conscience impels you to ruin your own career and justify the Brigadier's dislike of you, I suppose I can't prevent it."

"But think what he has sacrificed! Sher Singh will raise the country, bring down the Granthi army upon us, perhaps——"

"It's quite possible. But what I don't see is how your writing to the papers is going to prevent it."

"It might lead to—— Hang it, Bob! is the fellow to go unpunished?"

"Won't he be punished enough when the story of Sher Singh's escape gets about—not to speak of the additional trouble we may expect here? Hal, old boy, let him alone. If you don't, you'll be sorry when you're yourself again."

"For you to urge patience upon me is a novelty," said Gerrard, rather bitterly, but his step was less resolute as he tramped about the tent. Suddenly he sat down opposite Charteris. "Bob, I begin to think you are not so very far wrong. At any rate I'll wait before doing it. Who's that out there?" he cried sharply, as a shadow moved outside.

"Heaven-born!" Rukn-ud-din rose from his crouching position and saluted in the doorway. "It was told in the ears of this slave that your honour was very wrathful concerning the escape of the brother-slayer, and he presumed to approach unbidden with news."

"And what is the news?" demanded Gerrard, still ruffled.

"That the man who escaped was not Rajah Sher Singh at all, sahib."

"What! you mean that he is among the prisoners?"

"Not so, sahib. He has never left the city."

"But what—what reason have you for thinking so?"

"Does your honour think that the men who have been led by Sher Singh into their present evil case would permit him to forsake them? Surely they would hold him fast."

"No doubt they would if they could, but I imagine he has given them the slip. Would he send his wife away without him?"

"Sahib, the woman says she is the Rani, but I think she is merely a slave-girl playing a part. If the Rajah wished the troops of the Company to believe he had escaped, would he not have devised just such a plot as this, sending forth a party intended for capture, that they might bear the news?"

"It struck me as so characteristic of Sher Singh to sneak away and leave his women to be captured that I should never have thought of doubting it," said Gerrard in perplexity to Charteris, who took up the questioning.

"But what good could it do to Sher Singh that we should think he had escaped, Komadan-ji?"

"That your honours would not look for him in the city when it falls," replied Rukn-ud-din promptly. "If there is some hiding-place in which he may seek safety"—Gerrard's eyes met those of Charteris with sudden enlightment—"he might remain there in peace, and creep out when all is quiet again. But do not take my word for it, sahib. Only, if there is no news of Sher Singh's seeking support in the north, and bringing an army against us, remember what I have said."

"It is well. We will remember," said Gerrard. "Say nothing of this to any one, unless it be to Amrodh Chand."

"It is an order, sahib." Rukn-ud-din received leave to depart, and melted silently away. Gerrard looked at Charteris again.

"The treasury!" he cried breathlessly.

"'Pon my word, that's it. Unless—I told you how they broke into the passage, you know, and after the treasure was got out, Sher Singh ordered the place to be destroyed."

"D'ye think he did it, Bob?"

"I don't, if you ask me. I think it was a do."

"Exactly, and he has secured himself a comfortable underground retreat, with two exits, both of which are known to us. We shall catch him like a rat in a trap, if we keep our own counsel."

"I believe you, my boy! And now, what's your mature opinion of your plan for showing up Speathley? Ain't it ray-ther better to cover yourself with glory by producing the missing Sher Singh than by indulging a revengeful temper to put it out of your power to capture him? Old boy, he can't keep you out of despatches then! And the best of it is that you and I must do the thing all on our own hook, for the very good reason that we are both sworn not to reveal the secret of the treasury to a soul. We shall have to take Rukn-ud-din and Amrodh Chand into our confidence as far as the preliminaries go, and they'll be delighted to help, but they must understand that the thing itself is a Sahibs' job."

"Don't forget that the whole thing depends on Rukn-ud-din's being right in saying that Sher Singh never left the city."

"Oh, don't buck.[1] Of course he's right," said Charteris rudely. And as time went on, it became clearer to the two young men that Rukn-ud-din was right. True, the garrison of Agpur made great capital of the escape across the flooded river, and were continually condoling with the besiegers on the slowness of their horses, or prophesying great results from Sher Singh's personal influence in raising up sympathisers in the north. It was quite evident that they meant it to be believed that Sher Singh was not in the city, but the actual news from the north did not support them. Lieutenant Ronaldson sent word that an emissary from Sher Singh, sent to stir up his tribesmen against the English, had unfortunately just slipped through his fingers, but though intrigues were heard of in abundance from various quarters, there were no tidings of the Rajah himself. Meanwhile, the slow progress of the siege continued, until it received a sudden acceleration by means of a lucky shot from a howitzer, which dropped into the enemy's chief magazine, and blew it up. After this, events came in quick succession. The Agpuris were driven first from their various positions outside the city walls, then from the suburbs, and a rough road was levelled through the ruins, that the guns might be brought to bear upon the palace fortress itself. For the whole of one day they pounded at the walls which Partab Singh had constructed as the aid to his ambitious designs, and at night it was pronounced that the breach was practicable for the next day. But in the morning a flag of truce came out, borne by old Sada Sukhi, a persona grata on account of his loyalty to Nisbet and Cowper, and it was announced that the garrison, commanded in the absence of the Rajah by the Diwan Dwarika Nath, desired to surrender. Before any terms could be granted, it was required that Sarfaraz Khan and a number of others known to have been concerned in the murder of the two Englishmen should be handed over, and this was done, though merely the dead body of the treacherous captain of the guard, who had poisoned himself with a drug concealed in the hilt of his sword, could be carried out to the conquerors. A parley between Sada Sukhi and the political officer with the force settled the terms of surrender for the fighting men and the civil inhabitants, the cases of any who might hereafter prove to have taken an active part in the murders being specially reserved, and the remains of the Agpur army marched out, and were duly disarmed.

Much curiosity was evinced by the British troops forming part of the besieging army as to the fortress which had held them at bay so long, and Gerrard, wandering through the place when the transfer of authority was complete, felt a sense of desecration when he discovered several privates, looking, in their tight scarlet tunics, stiff stocks and heavy shakos, most incongruously uncomfortable, taking their ease on the divan in the tower where he had sat with Partab Singh. Others were trying to paddle the deaf and dumb man's boat about the lotus-covered tank, their adventures affording high delight to their comrades on the shore, and others again were teasing the wild beasts in the menagerie. The first troops marching in had found the palace strewn with valuable stuffs and other treasures, but these had now all been collected and placed under guard, as were the women's apartments, and there was nothing left to tempt the cupidity of the soldiers, though they found a good deal that was capable of injury, and promptly injured it. The Residency, in which Gerrard had passed so many lonely days, was badly knocked about, and strewn with the dishonoured remnants of Nisbet and Cowper's belongings. Evidently Sher Singh and his adherents had wreaked their vengeance even upon the house where the murdered men had lived, for the place was little more than a ruin. In the enclosed garden, where he had dreamt of seeing Honour walking, Gerrard came upon the political officer, whom he knew well as one of Sir Edmund Antony's most trusted lieutenants.

"Glad to see you, Gerrard. Curious you should have come upon me just here. Wasn't it you who got into trouble with Speathley by saying that poor Nisbet and Cowper ought to be buried in the city instead of in Ratan Singh's tomb?"

"Yes, but I don't know how you heard of it."

"Other people have heard of it as well. You have impressed the sensitive imagination of no less a person than the Governor-General, my dear fellow. Your suggestion got through to him somehow—some one who was there writing to some one else, I suppose—and he has sent peremptory orders for it to be carried out. Ever since the news arrived, the pet aide-de-camp has been labouring to convince Speathley that he originated the idea himself, and was only angry with you because you took the words out of his mouth, and he is just coming to believe it."

"Very wise, in the circumstances."

"Uncommonly so. Well, what do you think of this place for the grave? It is inside the palace enclosure, and yet quite separated from the palace itself. Even if we set up a new Rajah, I suppose we shall keep a garrison in the town, and a sentry can always be mounted here. No future Resident would care to live so close to the palace after what has happened, I should say."

"I suppose you can't do better," agreed Gerrard reluctantly, looking at the overgrown wilderness which represented his carefully kept garden. "Yes, make a cemetery of the place by all means, Rawson. It looks as if it had a curse on it."

"What an uncommon romantic fellow you are!" said Rawson good-humouredly. "This was my chief reason for choosing the spot. Look here!"

He took Gerrard by the elbow and turned him round. From where they stood they looked straight through the breach made by the guns, and along the rough track formed by levelling the houses from the chasm in the outer to that in the inner wall.

"See that? Almost a straight line, ain't it? Well, if we bring 'em in through the double breach, along that road, and bury them here in the heart of the palace, will it, or will it not, produce a fine moral effect?"

"Magnificent!" murmured Gerrard, the dramatic force of the idea gripping him. "Regular time's revenge."

Two or three days later time's revenge was completed. The bodies of Nisbet and Cowper, removed reverently from their desecrated grave and wrapped in the costliest Kashmir shawls to be discovered among Sher Singh's treasures, were borne through the breach in the city wall, attended by representatives of every unit of the besieging force, across the devastated town and through the ruined defences of the palace, to be laid to rest in the secluded garden with every possible military honour. As the last echoes of the firing over the grave died away, Gerrard turned to Charteris with quickened breath.

"Bob," he murmured, "they have made a way for a corpse through the great wall of Agpur."



[1] In modern parlance, "gas."



CHAPTER XXIII.

RUN TO EARTH.

On the evening of the day when the bodies of the two murdered Englishmen had been laid in the grave with all imaginable honour, four figures crept stealthily through the shadows at the base of the ramparts of the palace. After the funeral, in the course of a stroll round the walls, Gerrard and Charteris had refreshed their memory of the various localities. Long ago they had satisfied themselves as to the identity of the tree which masked the exit of the secret passage, and on looking from the parapet they discovered that it had survived the siege uninjured. But the hole it concealed was by no means easy to reach, since it was about half-way up the great face of wall, which was much higher on the outside than the inside. True, the stones on the surface were rough-hewn and much weathered, and vegetation of all sorts had struck its roots between them during the recent rains, but they were not too firmly fixed in their places, as a gap here and there showed. The adventurers agreed that it would be impossible to make their attempt from the inside of the fortress, owing to the strict watch maintained there, and since this decision implied a climb up the sheer crumbling wall-face from below, the help of a rope was very necessary. Since to lower one from above would have attracted attention, it was clear that it must in some way be raised from below, and the two friends had set their wits to work, with the result that when they paused—to all appearance quite casually—on the parapet and looked over at the tree, each of them drew furtively from his pocket a ball of twine. Charteris laughed.

"At any rate I'm glad you haven't beat me, Hal. I could think of nothing better than unwinding the string and dropping one end on each side of the tree, in the hope that it might remain untouched till to-night. No, by Jove! I have thought of a better way. Give us your ball."

He knotted the two ends of twine, and dropped the balls dexterously one on either side of the tree, the string thus remaining steadied against possible winds by the weight at the bottom. Then, talking carelessly, he led his friend on, both hoping that no acquisitive small boy might chance to poke about along the base of the wall during the afternoon. Rukn-ud-din and Amrodh Chand had already been informed that their services were desired that night, and at the appointed time they slipped away from their quarters into the darkness and joined the two Englishmen. Caution was necessary in passing through the narrow lanes of the city, not only lest implacable partisans of Sher Singh should seize the opportunity of avenging their master's fall, but lest a British patrol should be encountered. Charteris and Gerrard knew the password, but the composition of their party was certain to rouse curiosity, and lead to the suspicion that something strange was on foot. By dint of effacing themselves deftly round corners, and hiding in doorways, they managed to avoid notice, and reached the appointed spot at the desired time, when the moon, rising behind the palace itself, threw this portion of the wall, and the ground at its foot, into the deepest shadow. Sentries were posted both within and without the walls, and it was necessary to wait until the one on this beat had turned his back, and then run singly from one patch of shade to another. All once safely assembled at the foot of the wall, Charteris produced a dark lantern, and while the rest stood so as to shield him from observation, hunted for the two little balls of twine. They had fallen not far from one another, and by pulling at the strings it became evident that they were still knotted over the projecting tree-trunk. To one of them the end of a stout rope was attached, and then the other was pulled, so that the rope might be, as the twine now was, passed over the tree. When the two ends of the rope hung level, forming as it were a double handrail, Charteris seized them, and began to climb, supporting himself by the ropes at each step as he felt for a higher rest for his foot. The slight sound he made, gradually growing more distant, was the only guide those below had as to his position, but at last there came a tug upon each rope, which was to be the sign that he had reached the tree and found the entrance of the passage practicable. Before following him, Gerrard turned to the two natives.

"Brothers, you know that we hope to seize this night him who has been guilty of so many crimes, that he may be brought to a fair trial. You know also that a vow of secrecy forbids us to share our knowledge of this place with you. Swear to me, then, that after to-night it shall be to you as though it did not exist, whatever may happen to us."

"We swear it, sahib," said both men, but Rukn-ud-din added, "Provided that if your honour should call to us for help, we are at liberty to follow you."

"In that case you may certainly come up," said Gerrard gravely, and he followed Charteris up the wall. Amrodh Chand's eyes sought Rukn-ud-din's in the darkness.

"His vow is safe, brother; but what of our vow of vengeance?"

"Aye; we know what is meant by these trials. Antni Sahib loves Sher Singh and will not have him slain, and the judges will know it. They will appoint a pleader to gain him his life by false words."

"And we, brother—we who have sworn to wash out the stain from the severed cloth in the blood of the brother-slayer? We shall be baulked, and the women will laugh at us in the streets."

"Aye; men will mock at our beards," said Rukn-ud-din bitterly. "Has Jirad Sahib forgotten all that has passed?"

Amrodh Chand's head approached his comrade's closely. "I think Jirad Sahib has remembered our vow. Did he not make us swear that after this night the place should be to us as though it was not? What, then, of to-night?"

Rukn-ud-din pondered sagely this most undeserved aspersion on Gerrard's sincerity. "It is well thought of," he said. "Moreover, it seemed to me but now that I heard a cry or gasp. What if it were Jirad Sahib's voice calling to us, and we have failed him?"

"We will succour him at once," said Amrodh Chand. "See, brother, I will knot the ends of the rope under this projecting stone, and follow thee up."

All unconscious of the insubordinate reasoning of his followers, Gerrard had made his way up the wall, and reaching the tree, peered into the blackness in search of Charteris. There was no sign of the lantern, but not far off he could hear curious muffled sounds, as though a struggle was taking place in resolute silence. Feeling along the tree-trunk with his hands, he discovered the opening in the wall, and squeezed himself past the roots into it—rather nervous work in pitch darkness and with the rope left behind. He found himself in a narrow passage, the roof and sides of which he could easily touch, and close in front of him was going on the struggle he had heard. Two or more men must be rolling over one another on the floor, wrestling desperately, but in silence. Gerrard durst not interfere, lest he should seize the wrong man, and he ventured only to say, "Here, Bob!" in a low voice during a pause in the fighting, for fear of betraying their presence to others. Suddenly a horrible thud, followed by a gasping "Ah-h-h!" from Charteris, proclaimed that the contest was over, and Gerrard was nearly knocked down by some one who cannoned into him backwards. A hand was on his throat in a moment, but when the fingers came in contact with his collar they released their grip, and Charteris whispered with a hoarse laugh—

"Why, Hal, I nearly strangled you. Thought you were a comrade of the fellow here. Step over him and shield the light. We must make sure."

Gerrard obeyed—not without an uneasy feeling of exposing himself to unseen foes—and jumped violently when his foot came in contact with some portion of the body of Charteris's late foe. But no attempt was made to seize him, and he stood upright, filling the passage as far as possible, while Charteris opened the lantern the merest slit, and turned it on the man's face.

"He's safe. I thought that knock I gave him on the floor must have damaged him considerably. It was him or me. He sprang at me as soon as I got inside, and if I hadn't got my hand over his mouth he would have given the alarm. That handicapped me, too—having to hold him, I mean—and he wriggled like an eel. Well, come on. Now look here, Hal; you ain't going to walk behind me down this passage with your sword drawn. You'd have me spitted like a lark if we were attacked either in front or behind. I'll go first with my sword, you'll come after with the lantern—shut, if you please. If I want light, I'll tell you fast enough. Got your Colt ready—not out?"

Gerrard's revolver was ready to his hand, but he realised that it was out of the question to hold it as he felt his way in the dark, and after making sure that his sword was loose in its sheath, he followed Charteris, carrying only the lantern. When they had explored the passage before, with plenty of light, it had seemed to them that the walls and floor were astonishingly smooth, but now, feeling and groping their way along in pitch darkness, the number of obstacles over which they stumbled, and projections with which they came into violent contact, was extraordinary. The air of the place was close, too, and between their exertions and their anxiety, they were soon dripping with perspiration. Charteris called a halt at last.

"By Jove, it's just struck me what a do it would be if they had laid a trap for us!" he muttered. "Quite a shallow hole would bring us down on top of on another, and we should be at their mercy."

"Oh, go on, and don't buck!" said Gerrard irritably.

"Why, your voice is shaking, Hal! 'Pon my word, if I didn't know you, I should think——" He stopped abruptly, for Gerrard had gripped his shoulder.

"Bob, did you hear something?"

"Not I. You heard your heart beating, perhaps."

"Oh, drop it! It sounded like the ring of metal on stone—as if a sword had knocked against the wall."

"Kuku-ud-din or Amrodh Chand may have followed us."

"They swore they wouldn't. Besides, Bob, it was quite near at hand, and they could not have caught us up in the dark. There was no sign of them at the entrance."

"Quite so. Well, shall we wait and trip him up?"

"No, he will hear—guess we are there. We can't stay all night looking for him in the dark." Gerrard spoke roughly, fighting down the horror of such a watch as he suggested, and Charteris yielded, recognising that his friend's nerves were dangerously strained.

"I should have preferred to make our rear safe, but he will hardly venture to attack us single-handed. Give me the lantern, old boy, and you lead for a bit."

Shamefacedly Gerrard obeyed, realising that the dread of a stealthy step behind had not for Charteris the paralyzing terror it had for him, and they groped their way on, trying to assure one another that the sounds which reached them when they paused were merely the echoes of their own movements. At length a very faint glimmer became visible far in front, and they crept towards it. It seemed to come from a doorway on the left-hand side of the passage, and co-ordinating their former knowledge of the place with the distance they had now come, they saw that it must proceed from the open door of the secret treasury. Creeping up to this with the utmost precaution, they paused for a moment in the shadow to reconnoitre. The light came from a dim lamp in the middle of the room, round which they could discern the sleeping forms of several men—five or six, perhaps, but their mufflings made it difficult to distinguish them clearly. One rather removed from the rest, and lying on a charpoy instead of the floor, was evidently Sher Singh himself. Charteris put the lantern deliberately into his pocket, and drawing swords and revolvers, he and Gerrard stepped into the doorway.

"Your Highness is tracked! Surrender!" were the words that pealed into the room and roused the sleepers.

"Maharaj, fear not! There are but two Feringhees here!" cried another voice from behind, and instantly the man nearest to the lamp threw a quilt over it. There was a clash of arms as the men roused from sleep seized the weapons they had laid beside them, but through it Gerrard's ear detected another sound, a grinding noise on the floor, coming from behind. He recognised it at once; it was the grating of the turning-stone as it closed. The man who had tracked them and given the alarm was cutting off their retreat. Gerrard turned mechanically, and putting out his hand, felt the stone beginning to fill the doorway behind him. Stooping, he groped for the stone doorpost, and snatching off his cap, thrust it across the corner where the outer edge of the doorpost met the floor. The cap was iron-framed, and padded to turn a sword-cut, and he heard the stone grate more harshly, then stick, so that at least he and Charteris were not imprisoned without hope of release. As he rose, he was aware of a muttered exclamation of disgust from the other side of the door, and guessed that the man who had set the stone turning had found that it would not shut.

"Shoulder to shoulder, Hal!" said Charteris sharply. The moment so full of thought and action for Gerrard had for him been filled only with intensest listening for every movement of the enemies in front, and he had no idea of the foe behind. Something struck the edge of the doorpost as it passed through the slit left open, and Gerrard fired at the sound. Charteris jumped forward a little as the point of a long dagger grazed his shoulder, and the noise of the shot was followed by a choking cry in the passage.

"Thanks, old boy. Ready, watch!" Charteris took the lantern from his pocket, and flashed it slowly round. Gerrard had a momentary impression of shining weapons and gleaming eyeballs, all apparently petrified into immobility by the sudden illumination. Before the enemy could take advantage of the light to spring, he had snatched the lantern from Charteris's hand, and set it on a little stone bracket, evidently left for some such purpose, above the doorway, so that the two Englishmen were in shadow, while their opponents were clearly visible.

"Now, Bob, back to back!" he cried.

Three of the armed men in front made at them at once, while Sher Singh and the others conferred in the background. Neither Gerrard nor Charteris had time to do more than notice this ominous confabulation, for their adversaries gave them plenty of work. They were as agile as cats, and the chance was small indeed of getting in a telling blow. One man went down with a bullet from Gerrard's revolver in his brain, but his place was instantly taken by one of those at the back, and the next few minutes saw several shots wasted. Suddenly another sound than the clash of arms struck on Gerrard's ear—the grinding noise made by the turning-stone. He had barely time to shout a warning to Charteris before a shot, sounding like the report of a cannon in the confined space, smashed and extinguished the lantern, and at the same moment two hands grasped his ankles and threw him into the middle of the floor, with Charteris—as he guessed by the clatter of a revolver on the ground—upon him.

"Sahib, it is I—Rukn-ud-din," yelled a lamentable voice from the door. "Speak, that I may know where you are."

Gerrard had just breath enough left to shout "Here!" and sufficient presence of mind to wriggle as far as he could when he had done it. The instant swish of a sword, delivered with such good will that it smashed on the stone floor where he had lain but a moment before, showed his wisdom, and he tried to roll out of the fray, but Charteris, who must have struck his head in falling, lay a dead weight across his legs. While he tried first to lift his friend, and then to drag himself from under him, a fierce battle was raging above and across their prostrate forms, and feet, bare or booted, trod upon or tripped over them. At length Charteris stirred and groaned, and Gerrard shook him desperately.

"Bob, get up! Get off me, anyhow!"

A hand seized his shoulder as he shouted, and he imagined a sword descending on his head, and thought his last hour had come. But the hand came down to meet his, and a voice cried, "Well done, sahib. Up!" and helped by Rukn-ud-din, he was on his feet again, and set with his back to the wall. Stooping, he found Charteris struggling into a sitting position, and dragged him back also, then realised that the fight had suddenly slackened, and that the sound of panting breaths had replaced the clash of swords. Before he could ask himself what this meant, Rukn-ud-din's voice broke the stillness.

"Brother, is it done?"

"It is done, brother," replied the voice of Amrodh Chand from the other side of the place. "Partab Singh Rajah and his son and the mother of his son are avenged."

A wild howl rent the air, as the servants of Sher Singh flung themselves furiously in the direction of the voice, but the Rajput had slipped round close to the wall, and Gerrard found him at his side, half-delirious with joy.

"Slay! slay! slay!" he chanted. "Wipe out the whole brood from the earth. Let all those who served the brother-slayer bear him company in death."

"Stay! Let them surrender if they will," cried Gerrard. "Let the servants of Sher Singh lay down their arms, and taste the mercy of the Government."

"That for the mercy of the Sarkar!" was the answer, as a vicious cut was made in Gerrard's direction from the floor, but Rukn-ud-din warded it off, and seizing the tulwar as it fell from the severed hand of the man who had wielded it, gave it to his commander. Then, advancing in line across the room, they drove the surviving servants of Sher Singh before them until, brought up by the opposite wall, they threw down their arms and cried for quarter. Then Rukn-ud-din went back along the passage for the piece of burning match in a metal holder by means of which he and Amrodh Chandh had made their way to the fight, the sounds of which had stirred their blood, and the extinguished lamp was found and relighted. Sher Singh's body was crouched on the charpoy, in a listening attitude, the matchlock with which he had shot at the lantern slipping from his hands. Four of his men were killed outright, besides the one outside who had tried to close the door, and whom Gerrard had shot through the opening, and the other two were badly wounded, while the victors bore abundant traces of the struggle. But there was no time for binding up their hurts just yet, for hurried footsteps and excited voices could be heard faintly overhead, though no words were distinguishable.

"The sentries are disturbed in their minds, and have turned out the guard," said Charteris. "And no wonder; that shot of Sher Singh's must have sounded uncommonly like a distant mine exploding. Well, we had better appear amongst them by way of the lions' cage and explain matters, I suppose. What d'ye think of taking the prisoners with us, and leaving everything else as it is, Hal?"

"I don't see that it matters. Wouldn't it be better to make them carry out Sher Singh's body?" said Gerrard.

"My dear fellow, it does matter, very much. I should say leave things exactly as they are. Otherwise we may get into trouble. Don't touch the Rajah, Rukn-ud-din!" he cried sharply. "Oh, I see; it's a case of 'Is not the gown washed white?'"

The two natives had unwound the discoloured fragments of the Rani's cloth which they wore wrapped round their waists, and were dipping them in Sher Singh's blood.

"Our vow, sahib!" said Amrodh Chand proudly. "Now our faces are white once more, for all has fallen out as it was spoken, and the innocent blood is avenged."

"All very well, but our faces are likely to be particularly black," muttered Charteris morosely. "Take the prisoners on. Look here, Hal," as they obeyed; "don't you perceive that we may find ourselves in a very nasty fix? If we had been able to produce Sher Singh alive to stand his trial, nothing would have been too good for us, but as it is, we have deprived the ruling powers of the opportunity for a tremendous object-lesson in justice and clemency. Our only chance is to make it perfectly clear what a fight we have had. They may say we ought to have taken a larger force, but they can't very well blame us for acting in self-defence. And if the bodies have obviously not been touched——"

"You mean that otherwise Speathley is quite capable of accusing us of looting? Bob, if he attempts anything of the kind, I have done with the Company for good and all. I have had about enough. I daresay the old Habshi will take me into his service."

"Vice General Desdichado dead of drink? I think I see you playing the part, old boy. No, stick to your colour—and your colours. We two are in the same box, and whatever happens we'll keep together. I was merely recommending caution. But here we are at the massy portal. What'll you take that the lions were killed for food in the siege? No, there they are. Sold again!"

Pride forbade Rukn-ud-din and Amrodh Chand to testify any alarm at the place where they found themselves, but they hustled their willing captives to the front of the cage with great celerity, hastened by the growls which proclaimed that the lions had been awakened by the light. The beasts seemed sluggish and disinclined to move, and Gerrard called Charteris back with the lamp, that he might see better to perform the complicated movements which closed the door. Almost as he did so, he felt himself seized and flung violently sideways, Charteris following and almost falling against him, while a heavy body descended violently upon the very spot where they had been standing.

"What's up?" demanded Gerrard, between surprise and indignation.

"Oh, only the lion. Clear out of this, or we shall have the lioness on us next. You don't seem to twig, my boy. Sher Singh has had the chains lengthened!"



CHAPTER XXIV.

HONOUR AND HONOURS.

The course of events proved Charteris to be a good prophet. Condemnation of the method adopted by Gerrard in attempting the arrest of Sher Singh was universal. It was not the Brigadier alone who pointed out, with much wealth of language, that the proper course would have been to report his suspicions as to the Rajah's hiding-place, and leave it to his superiors to detail a sufficient force—of which he himself might or might not have formed a part—to effect the capture, for the whole army were on the same side. The charitable said that Gerrard was vilely selfish in trying to secure all the honour and glory for himself alone, the malicious that even if there was no question of loot—which was hardly to be imagined—it was pretty clear that he had been on the look-out to avenge the slights put upon him by Sher Singh when he was acting-Resident at Agpur, and that he had achieved his object by murdering the unfortunate Rajah in a hole. It was in vain that Charteris pointed out to every one he could induce to listen to him that the idea of surprising the Rajah in his concealment had been his originally, and that he had taken a prominent part in the affair; the comment, as soon as his back was turned, was that the two natives concerned in it both belonged to Gerrard's force, which looked bad, and that the friendship which linked Charteris himself with Gerrard was of a character to rise superior to mere accuracy. This uncharitable view of the exploit penetrated to Ranjitgarh, and drew from Sir Edmund Antony a grieved and reproachful letter such as even Gerrard's veneration for his chief could not brook with meekness. He replied with so warm a remonstrance as made Charteris shrug his shoulders in despair, though he acknowledged, on the receipt of a hearty and ample apology, that his friend knew Sir Edmund better than he did.

Since Sher Singh was dead, and not to be restored to life, the Government was in reality freed from a very serious embarrassment. One of his numerous youthful sons was chosen as the representative of the family, but not seated on the gaddi, since all Granthi institutions were in a state of flux for the present, and it was highly probable that the titular Rajah of Agpur would in future lead a secluded and uneventful existence as a pensioner on the Company's bounty. The new bearer of the title, with Sher Singh's wives and remaining children, was removed a safe distance into British territory, and the work of pacifying the state, by hunting down the remains of the insurgent army and of the revolted Granthi regiments, proceeded apace. In fact, it was so quickly done that new force was given to a body of opinion that was gradually gathering strength. Now that the Agpur campaign could be viewed as a successful whole, men began to contrast it with that other warfare which was engaging the energies of the Commander-in-Chief and the entire Bengal Army. Sher Singh's revolt had really been nipped in the bud, since he and his army had been strictly confined within the limits, first of his state and then of his capital, from the moment of the outbreak. Had he been allowed to sweep unchecked across his borders, and uniting with Abd-ur-Rashid Khan of Ethiopia, stir up the western half of Granthistan against the Durbar and the British, as the discontented Granthi Sirdars and soldiers of fortune had raised the eastern portion, how would it have been possible to cope with the situation? That it had not arisen was due to the insight and initiative of one man, Lieutenant Robert Charteris of the Bengal Fusiliers, who had had the skill to plan, and the courage to execute, the necessary measures, in independence, even in disregard, of the orders sent him.

Lieutenant Robert Charteris became a hero, for public opinion, once reversed in his favour, was not minded to do things by halves. Moreover, the growing tide was swollen by the arrival of advices from England, showing that the lords of the East at the India House, and military circles generally, had conceived, on the strength of the reports of Charteris's doings up to the time he was superseded by Brigadier Speathley, the view of his exploits to which India itself was just coming round. The home authorities backed their opinion by tangible marks of favour. The greatest living soldier, mention from whose lips was in itself an honour, recommended Lieutenant Charteris to her Majesty for promotion, and her Majesty was pleased also to confer upon him a Commandership of the Bath, while the India Board decided to present him with a gold medal suitably inscribed. These distinctions were enumerated with due solemnity in a General Order of the Government of India, which contained also a passing reference to "the praiseworthy co-operation afforded by the troops of H.H. the Nuwaub of Hubsheeabad, accompanied by Lieutenant Henry Gerrard, Engineers." That was all.

The General Order and the news it enshrined were received with much more equanimity by Gerrard than by his fortunate friend. Charteris could not contain himself, and Gerrard's calmness only increased his indignation.

"It's a sell, it's a do, it's an unmitigated chouse!" he proclaimed. "And why don't you put it down to me, Hal? Any other fellow would have done that long ago."

"Because I saw your reports, old boy, and I know that ain't the reason. It's only what I had to expect."

"But the disgusting unfairness of it—in our circumstances especially!" lamented Charteris. "I can't get over that."

"My dear fellow, you know that the person of whom we are both thinking would no more be influenced by a gold medal or a C.B. than by a diamond necklace. No, hang it! the plan was yours, and the execution was yours. I backed you up, you say? Well, then, put on my tombstone, 'He was a good second,' and I ask no more."

But Charteris could not bring himself to take this philosophic view of the case, and went about abusing the authorities and cursing the injustice of fate, until he drew down upon himself a rebuke from James Antony.

"Since you can neither refuse your honours nor share them, my good fellow, you may as well wear them gracefully," he said. "As it is, you are doing Gerrard no good. He was unlucky in his first post, which has told against him, but he is a capable man, and bound to come to the front eventually, provided his friends don't spoil his chances."

The shrewd common-sense of the advice silenced Charteris's murmurs, and he faced with less outward rebelliousness the prospect of a week or two at Ranjitgarh. This was a mere interlude before plunging again into the main current of battle. The Governor-General was coming to the Granthi capital to take counsel with the Commander-in-Chief as to the further course of the war, which had not hitherto been conducted with conspicuous success, and the honours for the Agpur campaign were to be conferred. The cantonments and the Residency were full, and Brevet-Major Charteris, C.B., was glad to share his former restricted quarters with Gerrard. The Edmund Antonys were in occupation of the house again, James Antony and his wife retiring into two rooms of the main block, while Lady Cinnamond was once more at Government House. With her had come down from the hills Marian Cowper, a sorrowful figure in the heavy weeds then worn by even the youngest widows, but taking up the burden of life again bravely. If she still shrank from Honour, it was only they and their mother who could perceive it. Sir Arthur Cinnamond arrived from the front with the Commander-in-Chief for a week about Christmas time, and it so happened that Gerrard came suddenly upon Honour riding with her father the day after his arrival. She wore a habit made like the uniform of Sir Arthur's famous Peninsular regiment—a fashion which probably owed its vogue to the semi-military costume adopted by the young Queen Victoria for reviews. Civilian ladies—whose husbands had no uniform to be copied—called it fast, or at least 'spirited,' (Gerrard had heard Mrs James Antony animadverting upon it only that morning,) but the severe lines of the coat suited Honour well in combination with the long trailing skirt and the broad hat with its drooping feather. As he rode up to the pair, and noted the serious face and the firm lines of the mouth, it struck Gerrard as curiously ironical that to a girl of this type should have fallen such a prolonged period of indecision as Honour had undergone between the claims of Charteris and himself. The thought was still in his mind when she glanced round and saw him, and the change in her face was like the waking into life of a statue. The lines softened, the eyes dropped, and a wave of crimson flooded forehead and cheeks. Sir Arthur shouted a hearty welcome to Gerrard, commanded him to dinner that evening, to meet his eldest son, who was on the Headquarters Staff, and turned judiciously to speak to some one else. Honour's eyes were on her horse's mane, Gerrard's were devouring her face, but for the moment both of them were tongue-tied. Honour recovered herself first, and spoke with a desperate effort.

"And—and how is Major Charteris?" she asked, and Gerrard's revived hope died on the spot. He could not understand afterwards why he did not fall from his horse. What he answered he never knew, but it seemed that he had laughed aloud, for Sir Arthur turned quickly and looked at him. A certain severity, disappointment, puzzled inquiry, were in the glance, but Gerrard had wrenched his horse round and was riding away, leaving the General still looking after him. He rode headlong back to the Residency, and with the impulse of a wounded creature seeking concealment, made straight for his own quarters in the inner courtyard. On the verandah he paused abruptly, for Charteris was sitting there reading a tattered number of Bell's Life. He tried to speak, but no words would come, and Charteris looked up and saw him.

"Why, Hal!" he cried. Gerrard brushed past him hastily.

"I've seen her. It's you, Bob," he jerked out, and threw himself on his cot. Charteris had sprung from his chair, but turned back on the verandah step.

"Hal, old boy, I'm uncommon sorry. You do believe it, don't you?"

"I do. And you know you are the only man——"

Charteris's hand was on his shoulder a moment as the words failed him, and then his ringing footsteps went down into the courtyard, and Gerrard heard him shouting for his horse. The man who had all went out into the sunshine, the man who had nothing was left. To keep himself from tracing the sound of the horse's feet growing faint in the distance as the happy lover rode away, Gerrard forced himself to plan for the future. He must leave Ranjitgarh, and at once; he could not stay and watch the happiness of the pair, lest he should grow to hate them both. Bob would understand, Bob would not expect it. Some day he might be able to stand it, but now—— He had not realised how firmly he was building on Honour's parting words; he had not doubted that the blush just now was for him. But it was for Bob, and Bob was worthy of any woman's love, even of that of the woman of women. "Heaven bless them both!" groaned Gerrard, and rolled over with his face to the wall to make his plans. He must wait to wring Bob's hand when he returned triumphant, but after that he would go. Bob would take his place at the Cinnamonds' dinner-table, would sit next to Honour, would—— No, it did not bear thinking of; that way madness lay. To his own plans! He would go back to his Habshiabadis, and move heaven and earth to get the help of the contingent accepted by the Commander-in-Chief. If not, and when the war was over—no, he could not face the solitude of his position at Habshiabad again. Had he not General Desdichado as a warning of the depths to which an isolated European, without hope and without ambition, could sink? There was a place for him elsewhere. Coming events were casting their shadows before them, and there could be little doubt that the close of the war would see the annexation of Granthistan. Sir Edmund Antony, who had striven so zealously and with such a single eye against annexation, would not stay to see it; his brother James would be the man of the hour when the step was taken. The Governor-General would be just, even delicate, in his treatment of the vanquished; Sir Edmund would not be shelved, but transferred to some other post where his tenderness for native susceptibilities would be an advantage instead of a drawback. Thither Gerrard would accompany him. Had not Sir Edmund said to him that morning, almost wistfully, "I should like to have you with me, Gerrard, when I am kicked out of Granthistan"? and he had answered eagerly that he could desire nothing better—then paused suddenly, remembering that there might be some one else to consult as to the ordering of his life.

There were steps in the courtyard, a foot on the verandah. Gerrard lay still and pretended to be asleep. He could not face Bob at this moment, when the realisation of all he had lost had returned upon him with such overwhelming force. But Charteris strode across to him and shook him savagely.

"You everlasting fool, it's you!"

He pulled him off the cot, and Gerrard sat on the edge and stared at him stupidly. Charteris was standing with his back to him, very busy about a buckle.

"Well?" he barked out. "You ain't going to do anything—eh? Think it was a pleasant thing for a girl to have to tell the wrong man? Going to leave her to think about it?"

"Of course not. I am going to her," said Gerrard wonderingly. Something astonishing had happened, but he could not for the moment realise what it was. He had got as far as the verandah step when he felt Charteris's hands on his shoulders, and was forcibly dragged back.

"Of all the fools!" said an exasperated voice. "Off you go, with no cap, and a head like a haystack. Do you remember that they have a burra khana[1] on? Do you want to be turned back for a lunatic? Dress first and get there early, and then speak to her. Call your boy, can't you? Why I should have to dry-nurse you——!"

Gerrard obeyed meekly, grateful to Charteris for giving the bearer his orders and presiding over his execution of them. The bearer, on the contrary, was much insulted. His master was like a lay-figure in his hands, but Chatar Sahib must needs take it upon himself to direct and correct operations in an unpleasant parade voice, causing many unnecessary starts and much perturbation of mind to a highly efficient servant who had most definite ideas on the subject of what his Sahib should wear to a burra khana. Gerrard's horse and groom came round, and Charteris's self-imposed task was not over until he had seen him safely mounted. Before starting, Gerrard turned and held out his hand.

"Bob, old boy?"

"Hang it, Hal! go in and win."

Some sense of reality began to return to Gerrard's mind as he rode forth under the archway, but it made little impression upon his brain when Mrs James Antony ran out upon the verandah he was passing.

"James, how late you are, love! Oh, Mr Gerrard, if you meet my husband, pray beg him to make haste. We are dining at the General's, and he has not returned from his ride."

Gerrard promised mechanically, and forgot all about the promise as soon as it was uttered. He arrived at Government House somehow, and immediately became the cause of much disturbance of mind to the servants, who were scandalized at his early arrival, and still more so at his demand to see the Miss Sahib. Honour's own ayah was fetched to assure him that "Missy Sahib done dress," which meant exactly the opposite of what it sounded like, and the highly responsible head-bearer ventured to advise the Sahib to take a little ride, and return in half an hour or so. But Gerrard was not to be so easily dismissed.

"Tell the Miss Sahib that I will wait as long as she chooses, but that I must speak to her before dinner," he said.

"Shabash,[2] Gerrard! Nothing like putting your foot down in good time," cried James Antony, charging out of the house and mounting his waiting pony. "If only the General and I had done it, we should not both be in fear of our lives at this moment. You owe me a good turn for making him late."

If Sir Arthur was late in dressing, his daughter must have been very early, for Gerrard had not been sitting long in the smaller drawing-room, sadly incommoding the servants who were lighting the candles in their glass shades, when Honour came into the room, fastening her short gloves, with a defiant swish of white silk flounces.

"You sent me a very peremptory message just now, Mr Gerrard."

Any one less preoccupied than Gerrard would have detected a suspicion of trembling in the clear tones, but he was too much taken aback by the accusation hurled at him.

"I am very sorry. Nothing could have been further——"

"So I just came to tell you that I am not accustomed to messages of that kind, and to beg you not to do it again." Holding her head very high, she turned to sweep out of the room, but Gerrard was at the door before her.

"No, not without letting me speak!" he entreated incoherently. "If you knew what it means to me, how long I have looked forward——! That noble fellow Charteris gave me your message——"

"I think you must be dreaming, Mr Gerrard!" The chilly indignation of her tone brought him to himself. "I send you a message by Major Charteris? Never!"

"Forgive me; I hardly know what I am saying. He told me you had refused him, and I thought that it might be because—that there might be some one else."

"But even then?" She still faced him bravely, though the affectation of polite interest in her tones was very difficult to keep up.

"You can't pretend not to understand—after everything——"

"But it might not be——"

"Oh no, no!" the pain in his voice brought the tears to her eyes. "Don't say it's some one else! I could have given you up to him, but not—— You know something of what he is; there is no braver or better fellow in India, and now that his name is known, there's no saying how far he will go. You could not have refused him—unless——"