“All right, Dick, my boy; but I don’t believe it.”

“But I tell you the Wazir was as civil as could be, and went out of his way to explain to me that he felt now that he had been in the wrong; that he had heard such reports about our confiscating different territories that, as an old servant of the queen-mother, he felt bound to oppose our coming.”

“Well,” said Wyatt, “I’ll give him credit for that; he did oppose us most thoroughly.”

“But,” continued Dick, “he says he sees clearly now how wrong he was in his judgment, and that he intends to do everything he can to assist the Rajah in his efforts to be friendly to the Company.”

“Wise man,” said Wyatt, laughing. “He began to feel that his head was getting shaky.”

“Then you believe in him now?”

“Yes, to be a cunning old sham, Dick, whom I would not trust in the slightest degree. There’s a nice—triumvirate don’t you call it?—the queen, or begum, or whatever she calls herself; that old Brahmin high-priest fellow, Ganga Ree; and the Wazir. They hate us like poison, and if they can get the people to rise against us and kill us, you may depend upon it they will.”

“I’m afraid some of this is prejudice,” said Dick gravely, “for I can quite understand these people disliking us as strangers who, as they thought, meant to seize the country. But, as the Wazir says, they know better now.”

“Perhaps it is, Dick, and perhaps they are all that is good and amiable, and I’m quite wrong. Let them prove it, and I’ll go over to their side. As it is, I think I’ll believe in myself and the Rajah. When Hulton gets better and takes command he will judge for himself.”

“Hulton will not get better and take the command for a long time,” said Dick quietly.

“Who says so?”

“Doctor Robson. He told me so this morning. He says that Hulton must go back to England for a year before he does anything more.”

“Poor old chap,” said Wyatt earnestly. “I hoped better things. He certainly is mending.”

“Yes, but very slowly. The doctor says that he must have complete change.”

A month had glided by since the Rajah of Singh’s forces had returned to their own country to await the retaliation they felt sure must come; but, so far, the Rajah of Soojeepur had contented himself with trying to consolidate his own state, and to convince his people that they must accept his plans for being in alliance with the English—a task, as yet, far from being accomplished.

The old palace, under Wyatt’s eye, had become a strong little fort, well provided with ammunition and provisions, so that they were well prepared in case of a siege, either from within or without the walls, though there were no signs of a fresh attack on the part of the Singh people, while the attitude of the natives within the city had ceased to be menacing. The result was that the orders respecting the men’s going about had ceased to be stringent.

Dick took advantage of this in his natural desire to see all he possibly could of the place and of the people, a ramble being more pleasant now that it could be taken without seeing scowling looks, and hearing knife-armed men cursing aloud at the dog of an infidel who dared to profane the streets with his presence.

On the morning that the above short conversation took place, he rose from the table to take his puggree-covered cap from where it hung.

“Where are you going, my son?” said Wyatt, with an Eastern metaphoric style which he sometimes put on.

“Just to say a word or two to Hulton, and then I’m going to have a look at the big temple.”

“What for?”

“To see it. One of the men told me it was very curious inside.”

“Who told you?”

“Hanson.”

“Humph! That letting-off and his wounds seem to have done that ruffian good. I didn’t know that he was the sort of fellow to visit temples. What’s to be seen?”

“I hardly know; only that it’s a wonderful place inside, with a gigantic bronze figure of that fat Indian god with the elephant’s head.”

“You’ll wear your side-arms?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t let the priests do anything to you for profaning their place. If they kill you, I promise you, though, that I’ll blow the temple up, if that’s any comfort to you.”

“Oh, thank you; that is good of you!” cried Dick, laughing. “Now, I call that friendly.”

“Don’t chaff. You mind what you are about, and take care of yourself. If you are not back in three hours from now, I shall call out half the troop and come in search of you.”

“Mounted?” said Dick mockingly.

“Bah!”

“And with a couple of guns?”

“Be off at once before it gets hotter. I want to go and see Hulton myself.”

As the call on the captain was more to keep him from feeling dull than anything else, Dick buckled on his sword, crossed the court, acknowledged the sentry’s salute, and passed out, to go up and down several crooked streets, at the end of one of which, as he was crossing from the sunny to the shady side of the way, he noticed something which made him stop short and turn as soon as he had passed round a corner, when he met Hanson, now quite convalescent, face to face.

The man looked staggered at the unexpected meeting, but drew himself up and saluted.

“There you are again, then, Hanson,” said Dick sharply.

“Yes, sir. The doctor said I was not to return to duty for a few days longer, and I have a pass.”

“So I suppose, or you would not be out,” said Dick. “But now, look here, Hanson; no nonsense—I want the truth. For the past week whenever I’ve gone out for a stroll you’ve followed me.”

“I had leave to be out, sir,” said the man evasively. “I know that; but you’ve been following me.”

“I am quite strange to the place, sir.”

“That’s gammon,” said Dick, who in his fit of annoyance did not carefully select his words. The man was silent.

“What’s that you’ve got buttoned up under your fatigue-jacket?”

“Pistol, sir.”

“Yes; I could see it was. Loaded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what’s that stuck down inside your overalls on the left side?”

“Bayonet, sir.”

“Sharp?”

“Yes, sir—very.”

“Well, look here, my good fellow, I’m not a baby.”

“No, sir.”

“And I don’t like to be treated as if I were one. Who sent you?” No answer.

“Look here; I will know the truth. Captain Wyatt told you to arm yourself and always keep me in sight?”

“No, sir.”

“Is that the truth?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then who did turn you into my bodyguard?” Still no answer.

“Will you speak, sir, or am I to go back and investigate the matter?”

“I’ll speak, sir.”

“Very well, then, who sent you, Mr Stubbs?”

“No, sir. Only Private Hanson.”

Dick frowned and stared.

“What!” he said at last. “Did you do this out of your own head?”

“Yes, sir. I beg pardon, but I am having a good deal of liberty just now as a convalescent.”

“And you abuse it by taking an unwarrantable liberty with one of your officers!” cried Dick hotly.

“I hope not, sir,” said Hanson, with a faint smile. “I don’t think you know how dangerous it is for you to be out as you are, alone.”

“Pish! I have my sword.”

“A sword is of no use for parrying a cowardly stab in the back.”

“Of course not; but there is no danger now the people have become friendly.”

“Only on the surface, sir. The fire has been smothered down for a while, but it is smouldering, and ready to burst out the moment it is fanned.”

Dick looked at him curiously.

“So you don’t want me to get a knife in my back?”

“I’d sooner have it in my own, sir,” cried the man earnestly. “It really is very dangerous, sir. Don’t be angry with me, even if it is a liberty for a private to take with his officer.—Mr Darrell.”

“Well?”

“You asked me to do something once.”

“I did, Hanson; and so far you have done it well.”

“Then, do this now for me, sir. I couldn’t bear the thought of you going about as you do, and I couldn’t sleep for the horrible thought always with me.”

“What horrible thought?”

“I seemed to see you being carried back into quarters dead—murdered; and I felt that I might stop your gallant young career from being cut short—at any rate that I might try.”

“Even to receiving the imaginary blow yourself, eh?”

“Well, yes, sir,” said the man, smiling sadly. “I think I could be better spared than you.”

There was so much sincerity in the man’s tones, so much earnestness in his way of speaking, that Dick felt moved, and his manner changed.

“You’ve been ill, Hanson, and you are still weak.”

“Oh, no, sir; I could take my place with the gun at any time now.”

“I’m glad of it. But you fancy things.”

Hanson shook his head.

“There is no such danger now.”

Hanson smiled meaningly.

“What do you mean?”

“Only this, sir,” said the man, taking a step nearer, and laying a finger on his shoulder.

“What of that—a tear in the flannel, sewn up?”

“Not a tear, sir—a cut from a sharp knife that was stuck in there from behind.”

“When?”

“The night before last, sir.”

“What! were you wounded?”

“Only scratched, sir. The aim was bad, and I started when I seemed to feel something coming, so that the blade went down along by my arm.”

“Good heavens!” cried Dick, “we never heard of this.”

“No, sir; I didn’t want to be in the doctor’s hands again, and my leave stopped. Besides, a bit of sticking-plaster was enough, for it was only the skin divided. I shouldn’t have told anybody now, only I was obliged.”

“This is serious, Hanson,” said Dick thoughtfully.

“Very, sir; and it shows the need for care. I will not be obtrusive, only follow you pretty close.”

“But it makes me seem like a coward.”

“There is nothing cowardly in taking precautions to preserve one’s life, sir.”

“Well, no,” said Dick thoughtfully.

“Then I may come, sir?”

“Yes, for I will not alter my plans,” replied Dick. “You astound me, though.”

“I am glad you feel the truth, sir. Quite half the people like us, and are for the king; but the rest are—well, sir, it’s like having the ground mined under our feet, I’m sure.”

Dick nodded, looked full in the man’s eyes for a moment or two, turned, and went on without a word.

The next minute he was at the entrance of a large, highly ornate, and wonderfully-carved Hindu temple, into which he passed unquestioned as one of the conquerors of the place; but, glancing round, he saw several white-robed men of the priestly caste advance to stop his follower.

“My attendant,” he said sharply in Hindustani, and the priests fell back, while from out of the gloom in front, where the outlines of a huge, elephant-headed monster towered up from floor to ceiling, a white-robed personage slowly approached, followed at a short distance by a train of a couple of dozen priests, to meet the visitor, who was taken round the building, the leader of the party speaking eagerly, and evidently striving to make himself agreeable to the young officer, who had more than once encountered him in the Rajah’s, and knew him for the chief leader of the Brahminical religion in Soojeepur.

At first he confined himself to pointing out and explaining the various objects of interest to the visitor—the many heathen gods, their names and attributes—in a frank, easy way that made his narrative highly interesting. Then he showed and described and spoke of the value of the various precious stones which adorned the great figures, all offerings from the pious for the benefit of the temple, which was extremely rich in treasures.

But by degrees, as the objects undescribed grew less, the old Brahmin’s remarks became more friendly and confidential, and he began to make allusions to their first meeting at the Rajah’s palace.

“Ah,” he said, “it is not long ago, but in a short time one learns so much. I looked upon you then—you and your brother-officers and people—as being terrible enemies of our religion. We had been told that you would come and ruin and destroy and take away all the treasures of the temple here. And then I hated you, and felt that it would be a good and pious thing to destroy all your lives, while now we have all lived to find that the treasures of the temple have been respected and remain untouched, and that the Rajah was right—that the English really are our friends.”

Dick listened and made suitable replies, and went on conversing with the smooth-tongued old Brahmin, but all the time he recalled Wyatt’s doubts and the terrible words he had heard that morning from Hanson; while, as they passed on and on through the semi-darkness, he could not help feeling how easily a blow from one of the keen Indian knives would lay him low, and how easily his body might be disposed of among the dark, labyrinthine ways of the huge temple. These thoughts, at times when they were passing through some of the most gloomy parts, were appalling; but, so sure as they came to the worst, they died out again, for he had but to glance round, and there, following him like his shadow, was the tall figure of Robert Hanson—well-armed, active, and determined—ready, if the need arose, to fight for him to the death.

Perhaps he felt the horror of his position the most when they were traversing a gallery sixty or seventy feet above the floor, one which led past the huge head and neck of the monstrous idol, and a door at the back of the figure.

For here the young officer could not help feeling how easily he might be hurled over, to fall and be dashed to pieces on the floor far below, or thrust through some one of the several openings which, for some purpose, yawned around. But, as before, there was always Robert Hanson, calm and silent, following like his shadow, and ready to give good account of any one who might venture to attack.

No one could have been more courteous than the dark-eyed, smooth, swarthy man at his side, nor more open and free in his way of speaking about the huge image and the attendant idols upon which they looked down. He seemed to wish to impress his young English companion with the idea that the temple, with its weird gloom and assumption of mystery, was merely intended to overawe the common people, and that he was too much a man of the world to expect an Englishman from his land of enlightenment to look upon all he saw as serious.

But somehow he impressed Dick in a way he did not intend, for, as they went along the silent, echoing gallery, the young officer felt more and more that his guide was treacherous and untrustworthy to the last degree—a man who, in spite of his sacred office, would proceed to any extremity to get rid of people who stood in his way. So that it was with a feeling of relief that he descended once more to the floor of the great temple, and upon being ushered into one of the rooms used by the Brahmin priesthood, who dwelt in a part of the building, he did not at all enjoy the sweetmeats and fruit provided for his refection, nor fancy a sweetish kind of wine given him in a quaint Indian cup.

At last he was conducted to the temple gates, Hanson still following close behind, the Brahmin begging him to come again, as it was his wish now that the English officers should look upon him and his brethren as their friends.

“I wish you would teach the people to feel towards us in the same way,” said Dick, smiling and trying, now they were once more in the bright sunshine, to look upon the ideas which had coursed through his brain as fancies.

“We are trying,” said the Brahmin; “but the people are very weak and ignorant, and you must see that, after being taught for so long to look upon the English as infidels and enemies, it must take time.”

They parted apparently the best of friends, and Dick was walking back towards his quarters, when, in turning a corner, he looked sharply round and saw that Hanson was watching him intently; and, if he had been asked, he would have found it impossible to have explained why he asked his follower the following question, but ask it he did:

“Could you hear what the Brahmin said to me as I took leave?”

“Every word, sir.”

“What did you think of it?”

“That I’d trust him as far as I would a tiger.”

“Then it was not all fancy on my part,” thought Dick as he went on. “I was right in my impressions, and I’ll trust him as far as I would one of the great savage cats; but I must be civil, I suppose.”