The first wolf-grey of the dawn was creeping over the scene, and turning to a sickly yellow the flare of the little oil lamps arranged around the veranda. The morning air bit shrewdly, and more than one of the seated or reclining figures had gathered his robes more closely around him. All eyes were now turned on the kotwal. He alone of the company had not contributed from his store of experiences.

"Methinks it is too late for any more story-telling," he protested diffidently, with gesture and glance toward the east in token that he spoke truly.

"Nay, nay," cried the Rajput, "this night will not be complete without the full measure of our entertainment. Come, come, friend; the sun is yet an hour below the horizon."

Murmurs of approval showed that the general wish had been interpreted.

"Be it so, then," assented the magistrate. "I have heard so many stories this night that it would indeed be churlish on my part to refuse to give you one of mine. Well, listen.

"Know, my friends, that I am a district judge in Delhi, presiding over that quarter known as the Bara Bazaar, where the merchants most do congregate. One day some few years ago it befell that I was seated alone in the hall where I hold my court. It was the afternoon hour, all the suits of the day had been disposed of, punishment had been meted out to those who deserved it, justice had been done to rich and poor alike, in accordance with the orders of our most righteous master Akbar, to whom be all honour and glory.

"I had taken from my garments my silver betel-nut box, and was leisurely spreading on a leaf the smear of lime preparatory to enjoying my pan supari, musing the while on the strange little ironies of life that came to my knowledge each day in the discharge of my magisterial functions. All at once a shadow from the open doorway fell across the room. Raising my eyes, I beheld the tall figure of a man. On meeting my look he bowed his body, and with both hands outstretched, courteously salaamed me.

"'Protector of the poor, listen to my story,' he said.

"In silence, while I adjusted the fragments of betel-nut on the limed leaf and rolled up the morsel, I motioned him to a place on the edge of the carpet whereon I myself sat. For my first glance had shown me that the stranger was a man of consequence, his garments being rich and his look that of one accustomed to the exercise of authority.

"He took his seat, and arranged his flowing and finely embroidered robes around him. I proffered him the pan supari I had prepared, but with a wave of the hand he declined this courtesy. So I placed the morsel in my own mouth, fell to its meditative mastication, and awaited the beginning of his tale.

"'I am a well-to-do traveller, as you would think. O kadi—a pilgrim on my way to the sacred shrine of Juggernaut, as I profess myself to all who make inquiry and to whom an answer is due. But I am not what I appear to be. In reality you behold in me—a thug.'

"The man lowered his voice mysteriously when he pronounced the last word, bending forward so that I might hear it.

"'And what may be a thug?' I asked, for the name to me was quite a new one.

"'Listen,' he said eagerly, and still in a low whisper. 'The thugs are worshippers of Bowani.'

"'There are countless thousands who worship Kali, the dread goddess,' I replied.

"'Yes, but we, the thugs, not only worship her as the wife of Siva, god of destruction, but we are her devoted priests who put men to death in her name and for her glory.'

"Now indeed did I prick up my ears and listen intently. But I did not suffer my awakened interest to betray itself in look or tone of voice.

"'Some fanatics may seek to justify human sacrifice,' I said. I was treading cautiously; later I would tell the man that such foul deeds were against the decrees of Akbar, and involved the penalty of death under the feet of elephants. But meanwhile I wanted his confession.

"'Ah, you know nothing about the thugs,' continued the stranger. 'But hearken to me, for I have come to tell you all, and for a reason you will presently understand. We are thousands strong, and we live in all parts of Hindustan and the Deccan. We are caste brothers, and are bound together by our worship of Bowani. The traditions of our creed have been handed down for generations from father to son. You have never heard of the thugs, O kadi, although you sit in the place of justice. Do you know why? Because I am the very first of the sect who has broken his vows of silence, and spoken the word thug to one outside our secret association.'

"'Yet you say you are thousands strong.'

"'Yes, we are strong in numbers, but stronger still in our fidelity to our vows. When once we have sworn on the sacred pickaxe, it is impossible to speak words of treachery.'

"'If it be for the good and happiness of all men,' I interpolated, encouraging him to keep on speaking freely, 'there can be no treachery, no breaking of vows in revealing the truth.'

"'It is to reveal the truth that I have come to you. It is by the orders of Bowani herself; for I have wronged her, and she is angry and has loudly proclaimed to me that thuggee is ended—that her protection is for ever withdrawn from me and my fellows, because, O misery, we have grievously offended her. Hark! Do you not hear the voice of Bowani even now?'

"The man raised his face toward the rafters of the room, and, with right hand uplifted, his attitude was one of intent listening.

"'Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy,' he murmured, in a strange absent monotone, as if repeating words he was actually hearing. 'You have broken my laws. Go now to your doom, you and all your brothers. Such priests Kali will not have. Thuggee is no more. I will seek some other worshippers.'

"After a pause of tense silence, as if the listener was awaiting for more, he dropped hand and eyes. And now my mind took a new turn of thought. There was the confused, unmistakable glare of insanity in the man's eyes. Half unconsciously, I leaned back on my cushions and placed a hand upon the dagger in my kummerbund.

"The stranger noticed the movement, and, lunatic though he undoubtedly appeared to be, interpreted my thoughts.

"'Be not afraid of me, master,' he said. 'This is the only weapon I carry.'

"And with these words he slipped off a silken scarf that he had been wearing loosely around his throat, and tossed it on the carpet between us.

"Now was I all the more confirmed in my estimate of his madness. To call such a thing a weapon!—a strip of soft fabric that might kill a butterfly but would be poor defence indeed to rely on against sword or dagger. I suppose I smiled contemptuously, for again the man read my thoughts.

"Then instantly did he do a thing that made my blood run cold. With a toss of the scarf into the air, he formed it into a noose, and this he threw over one upbended knee. Next with a swift twist of fierce hands he drew the knot tight, and so terribly realistic was his action that for the moment I saw above his knee the contorted mouth and protruding eyes of his suddenly strangled victim.

"There was horror in my gaze now, but only calm professional pride in his, as he flung back the still looped and knotted kerchief on to the carpet.

"'Yes, I am a strangler,' he said calmly, 'as are all the thugs, born to become stranglers, and taught how to use the roomal in early youth by their own fathers' hands.'

"Of strangling as a means of murder I of course knew, and, indeed, during the years of my magistracy, I had heard vague rumours of robbers habitually resorting to this method of dispatching their victims rather than to clubs or swords. But such appalling dexterity as this man displayed in the handling of an innocent-looking silken scarf I had never imagined.

"'You look dismayed,' commented the miscreant, no longer a madman now to my thinking, but a very dangerous character indeed. 'I am not surprised. Now prepare yourself for a story that will freeze the very marrow in your bones. Know that I am from Daibul, the city by the sea where great Mother Indus flows into the black waters. There for six months of the year, just before and during the season of the monsoon, I live peacefully in my home, doing no wrong to my fellows, in the eyes of all my neighbours a man of wealth and respectability, who goes periodically to his own country to draw rents from his lands. Little do my friends know that when I do travel it is to worship Bowani by sacrificing to her other travellers on the road. She gives us the omen to kill and we obey her. Once the omen has been declared, it would be sacrilege not to kill her destined victim.'

"'And you rob them too?' I asked discreetly.

"'Oh, naturally. But that is a mere incident. We kill those marked for death by our divine Kali, and she freely bestows on us the wealth of her victims. But we never kill to rob. That would be truly abominable. We kill only in honour of Kali, of Bowani, the all-mighty, great Mother of the Universe. For to her devout worshippers, the thugs, did she not give one of her teeth for a pickaxe, a rib for a knife, and the hem of her lower garment for a noose? So we strangle in her service, and with every victim the act becomes more and more a delight to the soul.' As he spoke, his muscular fingers and wrists automatically went through the motions of tying and drawing the fatal noose. 'Once a man has become a thug, he will remain a thug all the rest of his days. Even if he come to possess the wealth of the world, he will continue to serve Bowani.'

"I had regained my momentarily disturbed composure, and was studying the face of the man before me. It was a fine face, clear-cut, that of a clean liver, unmarked by sensuality, unharmed by wine, keen of intelligence, resolute of will. I could no longer deem him a madman. But I saw I had to do with one so filled with fanaticism that he could look upon murder as religion, plan it without misgiving, execute it without pity, and remember it without remorse. But now there had occurred something so to upset his mental balance that he feared the wrath of his own goddess and fancied he heard her threatening voice in the air.

"'You have journeyed to Delhi from Daibul?' I asked, prompting him to resume his story.

"'Yes, we were six thugs at the start, with fifteen others, merchants and pilgrims, all of us agreeing to journey together for greater protection on the road. As we proceeded day by day more travellers joined us, some peaceful voyagers, the others thugs to a man. Of the latter several were our own inveiglers, who had gone on in advance to gain the confidence of likely victims and delay them until our coming. The rest were strangers to us, yet none the less thugs. For we had left signs on the road telling such as could read them that more help was needed and in what direction we were moving; and, although those who responded to this call were in varied disguises, one, perhaps, coming up to us as a petty chief with a mounted escort, another as a merchant with a bullock cart to draw his packages of goods and a servant in attendance, yet another as a juggler or a musician, we could instantly recognize them as belonging to our brotherhood of Bowani by the secret signals with which they introduced themselves.

"'So we fared onward, increasing our numbers until our caravan was full one hundred strong. We walked or rode together, ate together, worshipped at the wayside shrines together, chatted and amused ourselves at night around the camp fire, slept side by side, thugs and our intended victims, until our strength should be sufficient and a suitable place for the final deed attained.

"'At last these two requirements were satisfied. We were now three to one, just the proper proportion—a strangler to use the roomal, a holder of legs, and a holder of arms, three thugs for each man to be sacrificed, so that there could be no mistake, no outcry for help, no possibility of escape for our victims. And one day's journey ahead, as we knew well from previous experience, there was a lonely gorge densely grown with jungle. Here the sacrifice to Bowani would be consummated, so the grave-choosers and the grave-diggers were sent on in advance. We acted now with the certainty of good fortune, for day by day every omen had continued to be propitious, as interpreted by the movements and cries of beasts and birds.'

"The man's story fell on my ears in an even flow. He spoke without emotion. I feared to interrupt with a single word, lest any untoward comment from me should put an abrupt end to the appalling confession. So I just listened while I chewed my betel-nut.

"'On the succeeding night,' continued the thug, 'we reached the nullah. The camp fire was lighted the bullocks and riding ponies were placed within the circle formed of the carts, for the gorge beneath us was full of wild beasts, and we had even heard the roar of a tiger disturbed from his hunting. The bales and boxes of merchandise had been piled up in heaps, close to where each of the owners would sleep, some on the open ground, some in tents erected by their servants. The evening meal had been cooked and eaten. The half-moon had risen, and at a little distance from the fire a troupe of musicians was performing—zithers were playing, cymbals clanking, tum-tums beating. From the peculiar rhythm of the drums, which all we thugs knew well, we were made aware that the appointed hour had come.

"'Our leader stood in the midst of the gathering, ostensibly warming his hands at the blaze of the fire. Gradually and naturally we took our appointed places, many of them customarily taken before this night so as to excite no suspicion at the final moment. And little did the destined victims of Bowani dream that behind each of them now was an accomplished strangler, with the roomal ready to his hands, while on either side squatted a holder of legs and a holder of arms.

"'Then there happened a thing that will explain, O kadi, why I have come to you this day to tell my story. I am an adept in my craft, and therefore was one of those entrusted to use the roomal. My particular victim was a comely youth, perhaps seventeen years of age—son of a landowner, he had told me in confidence, travelling with a bag of gold mohurs for his father. This lad had been in my close companionship during the journey, and he had come to show great affection for me. I liked him well, but there was no pity in my heart, for it is good to die in honour of Bowani.

"'At last came the signal of death—the jhirnee we call it. Our leader raised aloft his right hand, and said aloud so that all could hear the agreed-upon words: "The moon shines bright to-night." This was our command to act, and in an instant every appointed victim was in the death throes. Five minutes later all were dead—four-and-thirty of them—and not one faintest cry of alarm or of agony had been uttered. Thus skilfully had our work been done. When all was over, the musicians were still playing their stringed instruments and hand-drums, softly now after a great volume of sound that would have overwhelmed any chance scream of terror.

"'But in the very act of strangling, a dreadful revelation had come to me. Just before the signal was given the lad had turned his countenance toward me, and his eyes were looking into mine. In his fixed regard, as I realized later, there was the glow of love. But this was transformed of an instant into affrighted horror, as my hand at his ear gave the noose the deft and fatal twist. In the space of a single heart-beat, I saw incredulity change to the realization of sudden death, the first wild appeal for pity turn into rigid despair. But this momentary flash of revelation had shown me something else. It was a maid into whose soul I had gazed. I had put to death a woman.'

"Now for the first time in his narrative did the strangler betray emotion. Bending forward, he raised a hand to shield his quivering features from my scrutiny. I turned away, that he might the better recover himself. After a little time he resumed:

"'Oh, the horror of it!' he cried, uplifting haggard eyes to mine. 'The frightful crime against Bowani! To have killed one of her own sex! For a thug there is no crime in all the world to equal this one. Too late I realized what I had done. But in my first impulse of fear I resolved to keep the dread secret to myself. With my own hands I rifled the body, and laid the spoil of gold and other valuables on the cotton cloth outspread in the moonlight for the reception of such gifts to the goddess. I removed the outer garments, robes of cost, silken, and heavily wrought with gold. Then, when the grave-diggers emerged from the nullah to show us the places of burial prepared, one for each victim, in my own arms I carried the body down into the darkness, laid it in its narrow bed, filled in the sand, and heaped on top the stones already gathered together in a pile, so that hyenas or jackals should not disturb the grave, finally covering all with brushwood cut and ready, that even the signs of recent excavation should be hidden from prying eyes and the sacrifice to Bowani disclosed to none besides her votaries.

"'I kept my secret—the terrible knowledge that a woman had died at our hands. By the morning dawn the spoil had been divided, and our cavalcade, smaller now by nearly one-third, moved on. At the first cross-roads we split up into several groups, and later on into smaller parties still, so as to divert attention from us. And thus have I come on to Delhi, only I and one other member of that body of thugs, dispersed to assemble again as the omens of the goddess should direct. At Delhi we two await another gathering of thugs. But meanwhile my heavy secret has weighed upon my soul. I have heard incessantly, these last few days and nights, Bowani denouncing me as false to her because I have taken the life of a woman in her name, and bidding me hand over all the thugs to the justice of Akbar. Therefore have I come first to you, O kadi, one of the judges of Akbar.'

"I looked steadily at the man. Methought I saw once more the furtive, shifty eyes of the maniac.

"'What proof have you of this story?' I asked.

"'Take some sowars, and ride back with me three days' journey. There will I show you the graves of these last victims, and of some hundreds of others buried on previous occasions in the same gorge.'

"'Where is your companion—your brother thug?'

"'He has a shop at the corner of the Chota Bazaar and Dhurmtola. There he is now selling his merchandise.'

"'But that is the shop of Kubar Bux. He dwells here in Delhi.'

"'Kubar Bux is his name.'

"'He is a well-known and respected merchant.'

"'None the less is he a thug,' answered the informer, with what I took to be a vindictive little smile.

"Then once again did a new thought leap into my mind. This man might have a feud with Kubar Bux, and peradventure he had merely invented the story of thugs and wholesale murder for the latter's undoing. I know well the wily ways of some men—how they will even imperil their own lives to compass the ruin of an enemy.

"'If I go with you now,' I said, 'to the shop of Kubar Bux, what proof will you give me of his connexion with this story of thuggee?'

"'On his person he carries the sacred pickaxe of Bowani, which makes him our leader when thugs come together. And hidden in one of his bales of silk you will find a case of jewelled rings that actually belonged to another Delhi merchant, who was of the party of travellers that recently perished, on his way home from a visit to Baroda. You will but have to inquire as to this same merchant's disappearance, and get his relatives to identify the casket as the dead man's property.'

"'That, indeed, will be proof,' I assented. 'Come, let us go to the Chota Bazaar.'

"As we passed out of the courthouse, I signalled to two sepoys on guard there to follow us.

"Keeping close to the denouncer, I allowed him to lead me through the narrow crowded streets. Soon we were at the corner where was the shop of Kubar Bux, and there amidst his bales of merchandise the man himself was seated, a venerable and dignified figure. Yet at sight of me and my companion I thought an ashen pallor stole into the nut-brown of his complexion.

"As I stood with the informer in front of the tiny shop, which was too small for all of us to enter, the two soldiers closed up behind us. Then unmistakably did Kubar Bux turn grey from trepidation.

"'Kubar Bux,' I began, without ceremony, for I saw that a crowd would soon be gathering, 'open the bale of silk among your merchandise in which a casket of jewels is hidden, or I shall order your shop to be searched by the sepoys I have brought here with me.'

"The merchant rose to his feet. I noticed now, further back in the shop, another figure seated—that of a man who, on our entry, had drawn his garments around him so as to conceal his face. But to him at the moment I gave no particular attention. My eyes were on Kubar Bux. He moved toward a pile of fabrics, silks and embroidered cloths, as if to comply with my demand. He pressed against the bales, and then all of a sudden sank down upon the floor in a huddled heap. Then I saw the crimson stain of blood upon the merchandise.

"I sprang forward. Driven up to the very hilt, in the breast of Kubar Bux was a dagger. He was not quite dead, and I heard him with his last breath murmur the words: 'Bowani, great goddess, all hail!' Then with a rattle in his throat he died.

"I had gathered the dying man in my arms, and now beneath the flowing garments, laid flat against the breast, I could feel the shape of something fashioned like a small pickaxe.

"When I saw that Kubar Bux was indeed dead, I drew forth this implement. It was carefully swathed in white cloths, a pickaxe bright from the hammer of the smith who had forged it, unsullied by earthy stain but curiously marked from the head to the point by seven discs of red paint, showing it to be an object of worship at an altar rather than for actual use in the ground. But at this stage I did not pause further to investigate, and hastily replaced the wrappings.

"'Keep close guard on this man,' I said to the sepoys, pointing to the informer. But he whom I would thus hold safe remained standing impassively, making no attempt to escape.

"Then with a push of my hands I tumbled down the pile of bales. In the one next to the bottom was a protuberance, and from this I drew forth a casket of silver, delicately chased and inlaid with ivory.

"By this time a throng of passers-by had stopped outside the shop, and some had even crowded into the little place. But these I now ordered out. Then I turned to seek the man who had been Kubar Bux's companion at the moment of our coming. He was no longer there. The shop was tenantless—except for myself and the dead man.

"I need tell but little more. The silver box was identified by several people as the property of Govind Chung, a jewel-seller in the Bara Bazaar, who had made a recent journey to the court of the Rajah of Baroda, but had not yet returned home, although for some time expected.

"That night the paint-bedaubed pickaxe, sacred emblem of Kali's worship, lay on the table in my sleeping chamber. But in the morning it had disappeared—gone how and where no one has ever discovered. The informer had been confined in the public prison, guarded by two sepoys. Thither, on discovering my loss, I straightway repaired.

"The soldiers were still on guard in the corridor; nothing had happened during the night to disturb their watch.

"But within his cell the informer was found dead—strangled, eyes and tongue protruding from blackened face, the twisted knot under his ear tied in the very manner I had seen him himself tie it over his upraised knee on the afternoon of his confession.

"That is the end of my story."

The narrator of the grim tale folded his hands across his breast, bowed his head, and thus remained in an attitude of meditation. There was an interval of silence.

"Who murdered the informer?" at last asked the astrologer.

"We never learned," replied the magistrate.

"Was he strangled with his own silken scarf?"

"No. A plain cotton loin-cloth had been used for the deed. It had never been worn or washed. It must thus have come straight from some shop in the bazaars. But scores of the same kind are bought and sold every day. We could discover nothing from this, the only clue the murderer had left behind him."

"The assassin must have been the mysterious individual you saw in the rear of the shop of Kubar Bux," commented the Afghan general. "Himself a member of the thug fraternity, he no doubt took swift vengeance on the informer for having betrayed its secrets."

"As I believed then, and believe now. But the whole affair remained a puzzle. For how was access gained to the locked and guarded prison cell, and to my sleeping chamber as well whence the sacred pickaxe was stolen?"

"Well, who can be certain even of his associates or followers? According to the miscreant's own story, there are thugs all around, knowing each other but not known to us."

"Can such things be?" asked the merchant, his eyes showing the fear and horror that had smitten him. "Many times have I travelled in company with just such a promiscuously gathered crowd as the strangler described."

"You have been in luck," laughed the Afghan.

"Doubtless on those occasions the omens proved unpropitious for the final deed. A jackal crossing the road or the hoot of an owl at midnight may have spared your life, my friend."

With a shudder, the trader drew his white garments more closely around him.

"Well," remarked the magistrate, "for my own part, ever from that day when I heard the story of thugs and thuggee I have exercised the precaution of never travelling a single mile on the road with strangers, however fair-spoken. Although I have never again met anyone whom I could positively accuse of such practices, that the evil exists in our midst, and is widely spread, I am convinced. For a religion that provides a rich livelihood, while at the same time exalting the attendant crime into positive virtue is at least convenient enough to have many ardent devotees." The words were accompanied by a glance around the listening group, and a disdainful half-smile that expressed distrust of all humanity.

"But of a truth," he went on, "I know no more than my story has told. And hark! There is the trumpet call that heralds the coming of the sun."

Saying this, the kotwal uncrossed his legs and rose erect.

The long winding note of a horn was floating from the camp of the soldiery near the city gateway, and in a moment there came from the same direction the confused sound of men's voices afar off, calling the one to the other.

"I must away," exclaimed the Afghan, springing alertly to his feet, and buckling his sword belt. Three or four servants of the Rajput chief had approached, and were gathering together the cushions and rugs on which he had been reclining. One of them placed in his master's hand the bejewelled hilt of his scimitar.

"This for my enemies and the enemies of Akbar," cried the Rajput, drawing the curved blade half way from its scabbard. "But I would not soil it with the heart's blood of a thug. For him the gibbet, and the crows to pick out his eyes."

Just then the first lance-tips of the dawn flashed above the horizon, gilding the domes and minarets of the marble city. Away in the distance could be heard the wailing cry of a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer.

Other members of the party had now arisen, each intent on his own affairs, one arranging his garments, another settling his turban straight on his head, the hakeem adjusting the little box of instruments and simples he carried at his girdle, the Moslem astrologer spreading his prayer carpet at the end of the veranda and prostrating himself in the direction of Mecca.

Only the fakir had remained motionless; but now he gathered up in his hands his wooden begging-bowl, and held it forth, crying, "Ram, Ram," in the plaintive whine of his profession. But there was none to pay heed to his untimely importunity. Indeed, the Bombay merchant, when the cry smote his ears, started uneasily, and in descending the steps gave the lean, ash-bedaubed figure of the ascetic the widest berth possible.

"Who can tell a thug from a honest man?" he asked of the magistrate in passing.

"Who indeed can tell?" came the reply, in measured tone and with an enigmatic smile.

And a minute later all had gone their several ways.

THE END.

Transcriber's Notes:
Normalized punctuation and quotes
Left one instance of fore-ordained and one of foreordained
Page 26: Changed access to excess (Printer's error)
Page 30: Changed four-and twenty to four-and-twenty (Printer's error)