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."