THE PEN AND THE SWORD

JehÂn Aziz was meanwhile repenting at leisure in Oriental fashion. That is, he had succumbed to the perpetual temptation of a string bed set either in shade or sunshine, to which it is always possible to retire without, as it were, quite throwing up the sponge. An Englishman who seeks his bed and turns his face to the wall gives himself away; the native who does the same thing is not even committed to discouragement. And JehÂn, though he had a racking headache from an attempt to drown care in a debauch, was not exactly discouraged. His anger, though impotent, was too strong for that. Indeed, his whole force of character lay in his fierce arrogance; for he was neither clever nor cunning, like Burkut Ali. And so when, the day after the disappearance of the ring, the latter walked coolly in as if nothing had happened, and sat down on the end of the string bed, JehÂn only sat up at the other end and glowered at the man, without whom he knew himself to be lost.

'Thou hadst best tell the truth, Lord of the Universe,' said Burkut, with a fine sarcasm, 'for I have heard many lies from the police. My head whirls with women, and pearls, and God knows what! Is there so much as foothold anywhere, whence we may deal a blow?'

JehÂn felt comforted by that plural, though it roused curiosity to know what Burkut would be at. In truth, the latter's first desire for vengeance on JehÂn only, had shifted as he had listened to the tales he bribed the police to tell. Here, it had seemed to him, was the possibility of greater mischief; mischief which, it was true, could have no immediate or definite object, but which would add something fresh to that rock of offence, that stumbling-block in the way of the alien master, on which it was the duty of the disloyal to cast every stone they could.

It took five cigarettes, and two whisky-pegs sent for from the liquor-shop next door, ere JehÂn--in the absolute undress which seems to afford comfort to all Indians in time of trouble--had finished his tale.

'There is much in it,' remarked Burkut slowly. 'As for the ring, Lateef hath it. There is none else. And he is a friend of thy house. He worked there; is it not so? Bethink thee, is there no woman in it who hath a hold on him?'

JehÂn frowned horribly at the indecent suggestion; but even this insult, he felt, had to be faced. 'None,' he said shortly, 'unless the jade who escaped.'

Burkut grinned cunningly and shook his head. 'My lord doth not understand women. Lateef hath kept the ring for the honour, not the dishonour, of the house. It will go back, if it hath not already gone, to the safe keeping which hath secured it all these years.'

JehÂn winced again under the innuendo. 'Think you it is there already?'

'It will be, if we give him time,' replied Burkut; 'and all the more surely, if we say it is there already. That is simple, since Nushapore knows that the guardianship of the signet was not with my lord always. It is but to withdraw the charge of theft, saying that we have found the ring returned to its rightful owner, the NawÂbin.'

This time JehÂn ground his teeth; he felt his impotence, even against this man, horribly. 'And then?' he asked sullenly.

'And then we shall be free to watch Lateefa. We can give him time to go to his hiding-place. And then we can search him--and thy house. But without the police! We must have no more of their methods. It hath cost me somewhat to get beyond them now, which sum shall be as a debt between thee and me--but there must be no more of it!'

'But the pearls?' replied JehÂn uneasily; 'the pearls and that jade Sobrai, whom God curse.'

Burkut gave a sudden blink of his long eyes. 'Say rather, may God curse those who led virtue astray! 'Tis a tale, my lord, to dissolve heart and liver! Kidnapped by order, almost by force. Bribed to a sahib's pleasure by pearls. By four pearls taken--oh! most horrible!--from a string which the head of her house had, with tears, sold to that same sahib! Sold in his honourable indigence, which had not hesitated to wrench the last ornament from the necks of virtuous women in order to keep them virtuous----' He paused in his periods for breath.

'WÂh!' said JehÂn stupidly--his jaw had almost fallen in sheer surprise--'that runs well. But the proof?'

Burkut smiled a superior smile. 'Thy reluctance to allow publicity. Thy instant assertion that the pearls were thine. Lo! is not the whole true, save that Lucanaster sahib gave the pearls to Sobrai? And that is for him to prove. "Tie a lie to a truth and the two will sink or swim together" is good wisdom!'

'But they must see the pearls--they said so but yesterday. The magistrate sahib----'

'Go to him, and make thy confession. Say that there was but this untruth. The pearls were not, they had been thine. Say that, even now, if thou canst but get the girl back in secret----'

'In secret,' echoed JehÂn fiercely, 'when already the police----'

Burkut lost patience then. 'Fool! canst not thou see that in that lies the gain? Thou canst stand aloof, but the hell-doomed must answer! And not the one; but all. Lo! it is a tale for the bazaars! for the newspapers! And 'tis not as if thou couldst keep it secret longer. Thou canst not. Therefore use it against those whose fault it is that thou canst not.' He paused, suddenly folded his hands in the attitude of service, and said reverently: 'What orders hath the Pillar of Justice, the Mighty in Power, the Disposer of Slaves, regarding a necklace of pearls, and one Sobrai Begum, a woman of his household?'

The sarcasm bit deep, and JehÂn Aziz, the Rightful Heir to such power, swore, this time, horribly, feeling as Burkut intended, that revenge was better than nothing.

'And I will bring trouble to Miss Leezie also,' he began viciously, when Burkut cut him short.

'That were unwise. She stands too close to authority. Say it was DilarÂm----'

'DilarÂm! wherefore?' put in JehÂn stupidly.

Burkut's laugh was evil beyond words. 'Because they who touch her and hers, rouse what they cannot still. Thou needst not say it for certain. That is the best of lies--there is freedom for the tongue in them. Say it seems so. And hearken----! Govind the editor will pay for this news. If thou canst get word, by means of this money, to Sobrai herself, it would be well. She knows her fate if she comes back to thy house. Promise her escape if she will say it was Lucanaster.'

JehÂn's pious wishes for the immediate destruction of all the unfaithful came almost cheerfully. He felt infinitely relieved all round. So far as the ring went, he was inclined to believe that Burkut was right. It might even now be back in Noormahal's keeping; but, before making sure of that, it would be as well to see what Lateefa would do. Then as for the pearls, he at least got some revenge. And the beauty of it was that a solid substratum of truth, sufficient to save him from trouble, underlay all the lies. The pearls were his; he had sold them to Lucanaster sahib; Sobrai's four did belong to that string; she had been beguiled into the cantonments.

It was only that a different complexion had been put upon the facts; a complexion which might, almost, be the right one, since who was to know why Sobrai----

Once more the irrational, uncontrollable animal jealousy of the thought seized on him, and he felt a fierce joy in knowing that the story was one to rouse a similar feeling in many minds. And wherefore not? Were not similar stories true? Were they not to be heard every day? Were not tales of the libertinism, tyranny, and corruption of the sahibs to be read in every line of the newspapers? And none contradicted them; therefore they could not be contradicted. So if this tale were not all true (a faint scruple, that was as much an inheritance as JehÂn's passion for power, lingered in spite of his desire for revenge), there were plenty of others far worse that could be proved up to the hilt.

Thus, once more, that commonest of all Indian conjuring tricks, the making of one lie out of two or more truths, started on its evil errand.

Yet not a mile away from its starting-place rose the Government College, the Courts of Justice, the Secretariat, the Revenue Offices; all the plant, the stock, and lock, and block, of an administration which, take it as you will, is the only one India has ever had, which has allowed even a whisper to be raised against it without condign punishment.

At that very moment Sir George Arbuthnot, in his private office, was reading an article from the day's issue of the Voice of India, that had been brought over amongst the usual selections from the native newspapers which are submitted by the Press censor.

'Is it too late,' he read, 'ere the great crisis comes upon us which may mean so much to the poorest of the poor, the richest of the rich, to implore the Government to think, ere it inflicts on the helpless, the horrible and needless tortures which, there is too much reason to fear, have been inflicted on our fellow-countrymen in other parts of unhappy India? May we not once more venture to plead with the authorities for our poor townsfolk, and point out to them that these weaker brethren have beliefs which they would rather die than deny? The sacredness of the cow, for instance, must, and does seem silly, foolish, to those who eat beef every day, but to our people it is a dogma. To yield one tittle of it is eternal damnation. So with the sacredness of their women. This thesis may not be held by our rulers. We know that it is not. Those of us who have seen London do not need to be told this, and even a visit to cantonments shows us a different standard. Tales that are harrowing to the fathers and husbands of India may be food for laughter elsewhere. Therefore is it that at this crisis we venture to implore the great English Government to remember that to us such things are all important. That we cannot, we dare not away with them.

'The late generous announcement of Sir George Arbuthnot, our popular Lieutenant-Governor, to the effect that no coercion will be used, at the outset, has greatly soothed the natural alarm of all, raised by general and credible belief in a plan of campaign similar to those approved by authorities in all other parts of India. For which diplomatic utterance we poor folk are grateful, and which emboldens us to ask the following pertinent questions:--

'1. Would it not be possible, by treating ignorant poor folk with kindness and consideration, to allay their natural fears?

'2. Would it not be well to issue stringent rules that no woman shall be examined for plague even by British soldiers, and that Brahmins, cows, and family idols be not wilfully ill-treated?

'3. Though it is to be feared, alas, that jack-in-offices must perforce exhibit greed and covetousness, should not some supervision be exercised to prevent unnecessary removal of valuables, 'et hoc genus omne,' from plague-stricken houses?

'4. Finally, is it not possible, even at this late hour, when Plague overshadows us with horrible mantles of dread (there are persistent rumours of three cases in Muhalla Kuzai), that the co-operation and advice of educated natives be invited as to means of avoiding friction. Comparisons are invidious, but it is not too much to say that Messrs. Bhola-nÂth----'

'You can leave off there, sir,' said the assistant-secretary. 'It is up one side of Shark Lane and down the other.'

Sir George turned over the slip to the next with elaborate patience. 'It is ingeniously suggestive,' he remarked. 'By the way, have we succeeded in getting any more volunteers for search parties?'

'Two, sir; but they are both retired native officers, and as that would make all but five, military, the commissioner thought----'

'Then we want twenty more. Send a reminder to Shark Lane. And about the destruction of infected clothes?'

'There is only one thing for it, sir, as we agreed before,' replied the chief of the police. 'We must have an Englishman with each search party. It's absurd to expect constables on five rupees a month to keep their hands from picking and stealing. That fact must be faced. We do our best; but our department, which is the most difficult to deal with, is the worst paid.'

'That's a nasty story,' said Sir George suddenly. He had been glancing through another excerpt. 'Hm, the Ear of the Wise, editor Govinda RÂm.'

'He has the best nose, anyhow, for unmitigated filth in India,' remarked the assistant-secretary; 'but of course one can't notice that sort of thing.' Here he shrugged his shoulders.

The chief of the police, who was an old military man, squared his. 'There I totally disagree, as his Honour knows. That paper has a greater effect in Nushapore than all those high-falutin' prints put together; and that's all my business. I'd have him up, on every slander, in the criminal courts. You wouldn't allow that sort of thing about the masters to be circulated in a school? And the more we remember that our position in India is virtually that of a schoolmaster, or, if you like it better, trustee to a minority, the better it will be for that minority.'

'Bravo, Grey!' said Sir George, with a smile. 'You stick to your colours. And a good many of us agree; only the people at home won't have it. They can't grasp the situation; they would as soon believe it to be a grave political danger if the little street boys hung garlands round Guy Fawkes instead of burning him! Now, about the plague itself. Is it on us, doctor?

'Yes, sir,' replied a small man who had just been shown in. 'We have just inspected all the native charitable dispensaries. They have no proper records, of course, and they deny increased attendance. But they are almost out of drugs. Then there are three undoubted cases in the butchers' quarter. But the fishiest part of the city is all about the Garden Gate. Those tall old houses--there has been a lot of deaths.'

'Poor, high-class Mohammedans,' remarked the assistant-secretary significantly. 'Rather bad luck.'

Sir George rose and put away his papers. 'Then we had better start. I think everything is settled. The great point is to keep--to keep normal as long as possible.'

As he quitted the room the men left in it looked at each other.

'Right so far; but after----' said one.

'Telegraph home for orders; what else can you do nowadays?'

'Do! I'd show them, if I had a free hand. I'd settle this lot.' The chief of the police slapped his confidential file viciously as he pocketed it. 'I'd limit their circulation by a little wholesome bloodletting.'

'Not worth it! They're like the fifty thousand Irish patriots.'

'What patriots?' asked the chief snappishly. He hailed from across St. George's Channel himself, and was a trifle touchy on the point of his countrymen's disloyalty.

'The fifty thousand Irish patriots whom the orator said were armed to the teeth ready to strike a blow for liberty. "Then why the devil don't they strike it?" asked one of the audience. "Bedad! the polis' won't let them."'

'Hm! the "polis" wouldn't, if I'd my way,' muttered the old soldier.

Sir George, meanwhile, had gone straight to his wife's sitting-room; for he was already due at his daily reception of native visitors, and he had something he wished to tell her.

Scrupulously particular as he was about the absolutely English ordering of his home-life, there was something fantastic--even to him--to-day in the sight of Grace in a low rocking-chair, reading Hans Andersen to Jerry, in a room as dainty and sweet with English flowers as any in an English country-house. What possible right had this to be here, cheek by jowl with the city! And between them nothing but Shark Lane!

'Well! George?' she asked almost nervously, for, despite the days that had passed, her fear lest that unlucky letter should turn up to give the lie to her husband's protestations on the part of the Government, lingered with her.

'Only those two ladies, my dear,' he answered with a certain meritorious air to which he had a perfect right; for he was almost worked off his legs, and might very excusably have forgotten all about poor KhÔjee's appeal. 'Dawkins inquired. They belong to JehÂn Aziz's pensioners. But there is a discrepancy. He says they are young and flighty girls, so he is obliged to keep them tight----'

'My dear George! she was as old as old----'

'She need not have been one of the real petitioners, my dear. In fact, seeing that they are strictly secluded, I doubt if she could be. It is quite easy to personate, when no one has any means of knowing----'

'And quite easy to say people are young and flighty, when they are not, if they cant be seen. How are we to find out?'

Sir George looked thoughtful. 'I'm afraid we must take the NawÂb's word. Or, with his approval, we might appoint----'

'Some one who would agree with him,' interrupted Grace impatiently. 'I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go myself. His house is somewhere by the Garden Gate, isn't it? Surely, George, there can be no objection to that,' she added, noting his look.

He paused a moment; then said gravely: 'Only one; and that is, that we must have as little communication with the city as possible for some time to come, Grace. Yes,' he continued, as she looked at him startled. 'It is on us; but there is no need, of course, to worry for the next few days at any rate.'

She rose and stood looking out of the window thoughtfully. 'You never can tell,' she said. 'Father used always to say so to his young officers: "Remember that in India you cannot tell what the next day may bring forth."'

'Used he to say that to Mr. Raymond?'

If a bombshell had fallen between those two it could scarcely have startled them both more.

'George!' exclaimed Lady Arbuthnot reproachfully.

'I beg your pardon, my dear,' he said, going up to her with the quaintest look of elated affection, as if he were rather proud of himself; 'I don't know why the deuce I said that--except that--well! that the best of us can't quite forget--I don't believe you do--we are all a bit fundamental. However, what I mean is that times have changed since your father's day.'

'And yet you say every one is fundamental,' she interrupted in a voice that held both tears and laughter, tenderness and a faint resentment. 'And that is so true--we go back and back.'

'Then I shall go back too,' he replied cheerfully. 'Only I must give the New Diplomacy a chance. Besides'--here an obstinate look crept over his face--'as a matter of fact I have to obey orders like every one else, and my orders are clear; thanks--I don't mean it nastily--to you and your father. In fact I'm very much obliged to you. It relieves me of a lot of responsibility. All the same, I can assure that there is not the very faintest chance of difficulty for the next week at any rate. There cannot be--for the simple reason that we are not going to offend any one's prejudices. For instance, no search for plague patients will be made for the present except by special request of the natives themselves. So I really cannot see----'

'Is it likely we could?' asked Grace quickly, 'when we cannot see if a woman is young or old?--when we have to trust interested people for information? George! I often wonder you men have the courage to rule India, when you know nothing of its women, except that there has been one at the bottom of every trouble you have ever had.'

Sir George smiled indulgently. 'Well, my dear, I hope they will keep their fingers out of this pie.'

It was rather a vain hope, considering that at that very moment Govind RÂm's fingers were all black with lithographic ink, and that the first edition of his broadsheet was being hawked through the bazaars. There was quite a crowd round DilarÂm's balcony where, in full dress, she sat, defiant yet sullen; now refusing to say a word, now letting herself loose in shrill abuse with disconcerting candour. She find recruits for such as Miss Leezie? Not she! Though, had she chosen, she might here had followed tales half-true, half false, that were listened to, not with eagerness or anger, but with the calm assent which is so much more dangerous, since it passes on to tell the tale with additions in the next street.

By evening it was all over the city that DilarÂm and her like were to be put in gaol for refusing to kidnap girls for the Sirkar. And that the Sirkar in consequence, being hard put to it, would be sure to make the plague--which the doctors had discovered that very day, though, God knows, folk had been dying that way for a week--an excuse to search respectable houses for recruits to Miss Leezie's profession.

Such a thing may seem impossible to those who have not lived in a native town, but those who have, know that nothing is incredible to its vast curiosity, its still more vast ignorance. In the dead darkness of that, as in the darkness of night, all voices are equal.

And so round the smouldering rubbish-heaps and within the closed doors of the courtyards where the women gathered, as in the bazaar, the tale was told; not with absolute assurance, but tentatively. So folk said; and so, no doubt, it had been in the past. It remained to be seen if it would be so in the present, since that was all poor folk had to consider. And as the tale was told, a sound of sudden wailing would rise far or near in the city to prove part of the tale was true.

The plague had come.