CHAPTER I.
FORWARD.
"Are you here on duty, sir?" asked a brief, imperious voice. MajorErlton, startled from a half dream as he sat listlessly watching thetarget practice from the Crow's Nest, rose and saluted. His heightalmost matched the speaker's, but he looked small in comparison withthe indescribable air of dominant power and almost arrogant strengthin the other figure. It seemed to impress him, for he pulled himselftogether smartly with a certain confidence, and looked, in truth,every inch a soldier.
"No, sir," he replied as briefly, "on pleasure."
A distinct twinkle showed for a second in General Nicholson's deep-sethazel eyes. "Then go to your bed, sir, and sleep. You look as if youwanted some." He spoke almost rudely; but as he turned on his heel headded in a louder voice than was necessary had he meant the remark forhis companion's ear only, "I shall want good fighting men before long,I expect."
If he did, he might reckon on one. Herbert Erlton was not good atformulating his feelings into definite thoughts, but as he went backto the peaceful side of the Ridge he told himself vaguely that he wasglad Nicholson had come. He was the sort of a man a fellow would beglad to follow, especially when he was dead-sick and weary of waitingand doing nothing save get killed! Yes! he was a real good sort, andas even the Chaplain had said at mess, they hadn't felt quite sobesieged on the Ridge these last two days since he came. And, byGeorge! he had hit the right nail on the head. A man wasn't much goodwithout sleep.
So, with a certain pride in following the advice, Major Erlton flunghimself on his cot and promptly dozed off. In truth he needed rest.Sonny Seymour's safe arrival in camp two nights before, in chargeof a Bunjarah, from whom even Hodson had been unable to extractanything--save that the Agha-sahib had forgotten a letter in hishurry, and that the mem was safe, or had been safe--had sent MajorErlton to watch those devilish walls more feverishly than ever. Notthat it really mattered whether Kate was alive or dead, he toldhimself. No! he did not mean that, quite. He would be awfullyglad--God! how glad! to know her safe. But it wouldn't alter otherthings, would not even alter them in regard to her. So, once more hewaited for the further news promised him, with a strange indifference,save to the thought that, alive or dead, Kate was within thewalls--like another woman--like many women.
And now he was dreaming that he was inside them also, sword in hand.
There seemed some chance of it indeed, men were saying to each other,as they looked after John Nicholson's tall figure as it wandered intoevery post and picket; asking brief questions, pleased with briefreplies. Every now and again pausing, as it were, to come out of hisabsorption and take a sudden, keen interest in something beyond thegreat question. As when, passing the tents of the only lady in camp,he saw Sonny, who had been made over to her till he could be sent backto his mother, who had escaped to Meerut, during which brief time hewas the plaything of a parcel of subalterns who delighted in him,tinsel cap, anklets, and all. Major Erlton had at first rathermonopolized the child, trying to find out something definite from him;but as he insisted that "Miffis Erlton lived up in the 'ky wif a manwif a gween face, and a white face, and a lot of fwowers, and a bit oftring," and spoke familiarly of Tiddu, and Tara, and Soma, withoutbeing able to say who they were, the Major had given it up as a badjob, and gone back to the walls. So the subalterns had the child tothemselves, and were playing pranks with him as the General passed by.
"Fine little fellow!" he said suddenly. "I like to see children's legsand arms. Up in Bunnoo the babies were just like that young monkey.Real corn-color. I got quite smitten with them and sent for a lot oftoys from Lahore. Only I had to bar Lawrence from peg-tops, for I knewI should have got peg-topping with the boys, and that would have beenfatal to my dignity as D. C. That is the worst of high estates. Youdaren't make friends, and you have to make enemies."
The smile which had made him look years younger faded, and he wasback in the great problem of his life: how to keep pace with hisyoke-fellows, how to scorn consequences and steer straight toindependent action, without spoiling himself by setting his seniorsand superiors in arms against him. He had never solved it yet. Hiscareer had been one long race with the curb on. A year before he hadthrown up the game in disgust, and begged to be transferred from thePunjab while he could go with honor, and even his triumphant marchDelhi-ward--in which he found disaffection, disobedience, and doubt,and left fear, trembling, and peace--had been marred by much rebuking.So that once, nothing but the inner sense that pin-points ought not tolet out the heart's blood, kept him at his post; and but two daysbefore, on the very eve of that hundred-and-twenty mile rush to Delhi,he had written claiming definitely the right of an officer in hisposition to quarrel with anybody's opinion, and asserting his duty ofspeaking out, no matter at what risk of giving offense.
And now, a man years younger than those in nominal command,--he wasbut six-and-thirty,--and holding views diametrically opposed totheirs, he had been sent here, virtually, to take Delhi because thoseothers could not. No wonder, then, that the question how to avoidcollision puzzled him. Not because he knew that his appointment was initself an offense, that some people affected to speak of him still asMr. Nicholson--that being his real rank; but because he knew in hisheart of hearts that at any moment he might do something appalling.Move troops under someone else's command, without a reference, as hehad done before, during his career! Then, naturally, there must beructions. He had a smile for the thought himself. Still, for thepresent, concord was assured; since until his column arrived, therepose of the lion crouching for a spring was manifestly the onlypolicy; though it might be necessary to wag the tail a bit--to do morethan merely forbid sorties and buglings. The fools, for instance, whoharrassed the Metcalfe House picket might be shown their mistake andmade to understand that, if the Ridge called "time!" for a littledecent rest before the final round, it meant to have it. So he passedon his errand to inculcate Headquarters with his decision, leavingSonny playing with the boys.
Meanwhile one of the garrison, at least, had found the benefit of hiskeen judgment. Herbert Erlton had passed from dreams of conflict tothe real rest of unconscious sleep, oblivious of everything, eventhose rose-red walls.
But within them another man, haggard and anxious as he had been, wasstill allowing himself none in his search for Kate Erlton. Tara, asmuch at a loss as he, helping him; for though at first she had beenrelieved at the idea of the mem's disappearance, she had soon realizedthat the master ran more risk than ever in his reckless determinationto find some trace of the missing woman. And Tiddu, who had returned,helped also. The mem, he said, must have found friends; must be alive.Such a piece of gossip as the discovery and death of an English womancould not have been kept from the Thunbi Bazaar. Then those who hadpassed from the roof had been calm enough to hasp the door behindthem; that did not look like violence. If the Huzoor would only bepatient and wait, something would turn up. There were other kindlyfolk in the city besides himself! But, in the meantime, he would dowell to allow Soma to slip into the sulky indifference he seemed toprefer, and take no notice of it. It only meant that he, and half thegood soldiers in Delhi, were mad with themselves for having chosen thelosing side. For with Nikalseyn on the Ridge, what chance had Delhi?
This was rather an exaggerated picture; still it was a fairly faithfulpresentment of the inward thoughts of many, who, long before this, hadbegun to ask themselves what the devil they were doing in that galley?Yet there they were, and there they must fight. Soma, however, wasdoubtful even of that. His heart positively ached as he listened tothe tales told in the very heart of Delhi of the man whom other menworshiped--the man who took forts single-handed, and said that, giventhe powers of a provost-marshal, he would control a disobedient armyin two days! The man who yoked bribe-taking tahseeldars into thevillage well-wheel to draw water for the robbed ryots, and set womenof loose virtue, who came into his camp, to cool in muddy tanks. Theman who flung every law-book on his office table at his cl
erks' heads,and then--with a kindly apologetic smile--paused while they replacedthem for future use. The man who gave toys to children, andremorselessly hung two abettors of a vile murder, when he could notlay hands on the principal. The man, finally, who flogged those whoworshiped him into promising adoration for the future to a veryordinary mortal of his acquaintance! Briefly the hero, the demi-god,who perhaps was neither, but, as Tiddu declared, had simply thegreatest gift of all--the gift of making men what he wished them tobe. Either way it was gall and wormwood to Soma--hero-worshiper bybirth--that his side should have no such colossal figure to follow.So, sulky and sore, he held aloof from both sides, doing his boundenduty to both, and no more. Keeping guards when his fellows took bribesto fight, and agreeing with Tiddu, that since some other besidesthemselves knew of the roof, it was safer for the master to lock itup, and live for a time elsewhere.
So, all unwittingly, the only chance of finding Kate was lost. Forwhat had happened was briefly this: Five minutes after Jim Douglas hadleft her, Prince Abool-Bukr, who had kept this _renseignement_--givenhim by a Bunjarah, who had promised to be in waiting and was not--tothe last, because it was close to the haven where he would be, hadcome roystering up the stairs followed by his unwilling retainers,suggesting that the Most Illustrious had really better desist fromviolating seclusion since they were all black and blue already. But,from sheer devilry and desire to outrage the quarter, which by itscomplaints had already brought him into trouble, the Prince had begunbattering at the door. Kate, running to bar it more securely, saw thatthe hasp, carelessly hitched over the staple, was slipping--hadslipped; and had barely time to dash into the inner roof ere thePrince, unexpectant of the sudden giving way, tumbled headlong intothe outer one. The fall gave her an instant more, but made him angry;and the end would have been certain, if Kate, seeing the new-made gapin the wall before her, had not availed herself of it. There was aroof not far below she knew; the _debris_ would be on a slopeperhaps--the blue-eyed boy had escaped by the roofs. All this flashedthrough her, as by the aid of a stool, which she kicked over in herscramble, she gained the top of the gap and peered over. The nextinstant she had dropped herself down some four feet, finding aprecarious foothold on a sliding slope of rubble, and still clingingto the wall with her hands. If no one looked over, she thoughtbreathlessly, she was safe! And no one did. The general air of decentprivacy alarmed the retainers into remembering that two of theirnumber had found death their reward for their master's last escapadein that quarter; so, after one glance round, they swore the place wasempty, and dragged him off, feebly protesting that it was his lastchance, and he had not bagged a single Christian.
Kate heard the door closed, heard the voices retreat downstairs, andthen set herself to get back over the gap. It did not seem a difficulttask. The slope on which she hung gave fair foothold, and by getting agood grip on the brickwork, and perhaps displacing a brick or two inthe crack lower down, as a step, she ought to get up easily. It waslucky the crack was there, she thought. In one way, not in another,for, as in her effort she necessarily threw all her weight on thewall, another bit of it gave way, she fell backward, and so, halfcovered with bricks and mud, rolled to the roof below, which wasluckily not more than eight or nine feet down. It was far enough,however, for the fall to have killed her; but, though she lay quiteunconscious, she was not dead, only stunned, shaken, confused, unableabsolutely to think. It was almost dawn, indeed, before she realizedthat her only chance of getting up again was in calling for help, andby that time the door of the roof above had been locked, and there wasno one to hear her. The few square yards of roof on to which she hadrolled belonged to one of those box-like buildings, half-turrets,half-summer houses, which natives build here, there, and everywhere atall sorts of elevations, until the view of a town from a topmost roofresembles nothing so much as the piles of luggage awaiting the tidaltrain at Victoria.
This particular square of roof belonged to a tiny outhouse, whichstood on a long narrow roof belonging in its turn to an arcaded slipof summer-house standing on a square, set round by high parapet walls.Quite a staircase of roofs. Her one had had a thatch set against thewall, but it had fallen in with the weight of bricks and mortar. Stillshe might be able to creep between it and the wall for shelter. And onthe slip of roof below, Indian corn was drying, during this break inthe rains. Rains which had filled a row of water-pots quite full.Since she could not make those above her hear, she thought it might beas well to secure herself from absolute starvation, before broaddaylight brought life to the wilderness of roofs around her. So shescrambled down a rough ladder of bamboo tied with string, and, after abrief look into the square below, came back with some parched grainshe had found in a basket, and a pot of water. She would not starvefor that day. By this time it was dawn, and she crept into hershelter, listening all the while for a sound from above; every now andagain venturing on a call. But there was no answer, and by degrees itcame to her that she must rely on herself only for safety. She was notlikely to be disturbed that day where she was, unless people came torepair the thatch. And under cover of night she might surely creepfrom roof to roof down to some alley. What alley? True, her goal nowlay behind her, but these roofs, set at every angle, might lead herfar from it. And how was she to know her own stair, her own house,from the outside? She had passed into it in darkness and never left itagain. Then what sort of people lived in these houses through whichshe must creep like a thief? Murderers, perhaps. Still it was her onlychance; and all that burning, blistering day, as she crouched betweenthe thatch and the wall, she was bolstering up her courage for theeffort. She could see the Ridge clearly from her hiding place. Ah! ifshe had only the wings of the doves--those purple pigeons which,circling from the great dome of the mosque, came to feast unchecked onthe Indian corn. The people below, then, must be pious folk.
It was past midnight and the silence of sleep had settled over thecity before she nerved herself to the chance and crept down among thecorn. No difficulty in that; but to her surprise, a cresset was stillburning in the arcaded veranda below, sending three bars of lightacross the square through which she must pass. It would be better towait a while; but an hour slipped by and still the light gleamed intothe silence. Perhaps it had been forgotten. The possibility made hercreep down the brick ladder, prepared to creep up again if the silenceproved deceptive. But what she saw made her pause, hesitating. It wasa woman reading from a large book held in a book-rest. The Koran, ofcourse. Kate recognized it at once, for just such another had beenpart of the necessary furniture of her roof. And what a beautifulface! Tender, refined, charming. Not the face of a murderess, surely?Surely it might be trusted? Those three months behind the veil hadmade Kate realize the emotionality of the East; its instinctivesympathy with the dramatic element in life. She remembered her suddenimpulse in regard to the knife and its effect on Tiddu; she felt asimilar impulse toward confidence here. And then she knew that thedoors might be locked below, and that her best chance might be tothrow herself on the mercy of this woman.
The next moment she was standing full in the light close to thestudent, who started to her feet with a faint cry, gazing almostincredulously at the figure so like her own, save for the jewelsgleaming among the white draperies.
"Bibi," she faltered.
"I am no bibi," interrupted Kate hurriedly in Hindustani. "I am aChristian--but a woman like yourself--a mother. For the sake ofyours--or the sake of your sons, if you are a mother too--for the sakeof what you love best--save me."
"A Christian! a mem!" In the pause of sheer astonishment the two womenstood facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. PrinceAbool-Bukr had been right when he said that Kate Erlton reminded himof the Princess Farkhoonda da Zamani. Standing so, they showedstrangely alike indeed, not in feature, but in type; in the soul whichlooked out of the soft dark, and the clear gray eyes.
"Save you!" The faint echo was lost in a new sound, close at hand. Acareless voice humming a song; a step coming up the dark stair.
"O mistress rare, divine!"
God and His Prophet! Abool himself! Newasi flung her hands up in sheerhorror. Abool! and this Christian here! The next instant with a fierce"Keep still," she had thrust Kate into the deepest shadow and was outto bar the brick ladder with her tall white grace. She had no time forthought. One sentence beat on her brain--"for the sake of what youlove best, save me!" Yea! for his sake this strange woman must not beseen--he must not, should not guess she was there!
"Stand back, kind one, and let me pass," came the gay voicecarelessly. It made Kate shudder back into further shadow, for sheknew now where she was; and but that she would have to pass those barsof light would have essayed escape to the roofs again.
But Newasi stood still as stone on the first step of the stairs.
"Pass!" she repeated clearly, coldly. "Art mad, Abool? that thoucomest hither with no excuse of drunkenness and alone, at this hour ofthe night. For shame!"
Why, indeed, she asked herself wildly, had he come? He was not used todo so. Could he have heard? Had he come on purpose? There was a soundas if he retreated a step, and from the dark his voice came with awonder in it.
"What ails thee, Newasi?"
"What ails me!" she echoed, "what I have lacked too long. Just angerat thy thoughtless ways. Go----"
"But I have that to tell thee of serious import that none but thoumust hear. That which will please thee. That which needs thy kind wiseeyes upon it."
"Then let them see it by daylight, not now. I will not, Abool. Standback, or I will call for help."
The sound of retreat was louder this time, and a muttered curse camewith it; but the voice had a trace of anxiety in it now--anxiety andanger.
"Thou dost not mean it, kind one; thou canst not! When have I donethat which would make thee need help? Newasi! be not a fool. Rememberit is I, Abool; Abool-Bukr, who has a devil in him at times!"
Did she not know it by this time? Was not that the reason why he mustnot find this Christian? Why she must refuse him hearing? Though itwas true that he had a right to be trusted; in all those long years,when had he failed to treat her tenderly, respectfully? As she stoodbarring his way, where he had never before been denied entrance, shefelt as if she herself could have killed that strange woman for beingthere, for coming between them.
"Listen, Abool!" she said, stretching out her hands to find his in thedark. "I mean naught, dear, that is unkind. How could it be so betweenme and thee? But 'tis not wise." She paused, catching her breath in afaint sob. He could not see her face, perhaps if he had, he would havebeen less relentless.
"Wherefore? Canst not trust thy nephew, fair aunt?" The sarcasm bitdeep.
"Nephew! A truce, Abool, to this foolish tale," she began hotly, whenhe interrupted her.
"Of a surety, if the Princess Farkhoonda desires it! Yet would MirzaAbool-Bukr still like to know wherefore he is not received?"
His tone sent a thrill of terror through her, his use of the name hehated warned her that his temper was rising--the devil awakening.
"Canst not see, dear," she pleaded, trying to keep the hands he wouldhave drawn from hers--"folk have evil minds."
He gave an ugly laugh. "Since when hast thou begun to think of thygood name, like other women, Newasi? But if it be so, if all myvirtue--and God knows 'tis ill-got--is to go for naught, let it end."
She heard him, felt him turn, and a wild despair surged up in her.Which was worst? To let him go in anger beyond the reach of hercontrolling hand mayhap--go to unknown evils--or chance this one?Since--since at the worst death might be concealed. God and HisProphet! What a thought! No! she would plead again--she wouldstoop--she would keep him at any price.
"Listen!" she whispered passionately, leaning toward him in the dark,"dost ask since when I have feared for my good name? Canst notguess?--Abool! what--what does a woman, as I am, fear--saveherself--save her own love----"
There was an instant's silence, and then his reckless jeering laughjarred loud.
"So it has come at last! and there is another woman for kisses. Thatis an end indeed! Did I not tell thee we should quarrel over it someday? Well, be it so, Princess! I will take my virtue elsewhere."
She stood as if turned to stone, listening to his retreating steps,listening to his nonchalant humming of the old refrain as he passedthrough the courtyard into the alley. Then, without a word, butquivering with passion, she turned to where Kate cowered, and draggedher by main force to the stairs where, a minute before; she hadsacrificed everything for her. No! not for her, for him!
"Go," she said bitterly. "Go! and my curse go with you."
Kate fled before the anger she saw but did not understand. Yet as sheflew down the steep stairs she paused involuntarily to listen to thesound--a sound which needed no interpreter as the liquid Persian haddone--of a woman sobbing as if her heart would break.
She had no time, however, even for wonder, and the next instant shewas out in the alley, turning to the right. For the knowledge that itwas the Princess Farkhoonda who had helped her, gave the clew to herposition. But the house, the stair? How could she know it? She musttry them one after another; since she would know the landing, the doorshe had so often opened and shut. Still it was perilously near dawnere she found what she was sure was the right one; but it waspadlocked.
They must have gone; gone and left her alone!
For the first time, ghastly, unreasoning fear seized on her; she couldhave beaten at the door and screamed her claim to be let in. And evenwhen, the rush of terror passed, she sat stupidly on the step, noteven wondering what to do next, till suddenly she remembered that shehad keys in her pocket. That of the inner padlock, certainly; perhapsof the outer one, also, since Tara had given up using her duplicatealtogether.
She had; and five minutes after, having satisfied herself that theroof remained as it was--that it was merely empty for a time--shetried to feel grateful. But the loneliness, the dimness, were too muchfor her fatigue, her excitement. So once more the sound which needs nointerpreter rose on the warm soft night.
It was two days after this that Tiddu held a secret consultation withSoma and Tara. The Agha-sahib, he said, was getting desperate. He waslosing his head, as the Huzoors did over women-folk, and he must begot out of the city. It was not as if he did any good by staying init. The mem was either dead, or safely concealed. There was noalternative, unless, indeed, she had already been passed out to theRidge. There was talk of that sort among Hodson's spies, and he wasgoing to utilize the fact and persuade the Huzoor to creep out to thecamp and see. Soma could pass him out, and would not pass him inagain; which was fortunate. Since folk in addition to protectingmasters had to make money, when every other corn-carrier in the placewas coining it by smuggling gold and silver out of the city for therich merchants. Tara, with a sudden fierce exultation in her sombereyes, agreed. Let the Huzoor go back to his own life, she said; lethim go to safety, and leave her free. As for the mem, the master haddone enough for her. And Soma, sulky and lowering with the dull glowof opium in his brain--for the drug was his only solace now--sworethat Tiddu was right. Delhi was no place for the master. And once outof it, the fighting would keep him: he knew him of old. As for themem, he would not harm her, as Tara had once suggested he should. Thatdream was over. The Huzoors were the true masters; they had men whocould lead men. Not Princes in Cashmere shawls who couldn't understanda word of what you said, and mere _soubadars_ cocked up, but real_Colonels_ and _Generals_.
The result of this being that on the night of the 11th, betweenmidnight and dawn, Jim Douglas, with that elation which came to himalways at the prospect of action, prepared to slip out of thesally-port by the Magazine, disguised as a sepoy. This was to pleaseSoma. To please Tiddu, however, he wore underneath this disguise theold staff uniform from the theatrical properties. It reminded him ofAlice Gissing, making him whisper another "bravo" to the memory of thewoman whom he had buried under the orange-trees in the crimson-nettedshroud made of an officer's scarf.
But Tiddu's re
mark, that an English uniform would be the safest, oncehe was beyond the city, sent sadness flying, in its frank admissionthat the tide had turned.
Turned, indeed! The certainty came with a great throb of fierce joyas, half an hour afterward, slipping past the gardens of LudlowCastle, he found himself in the thick of English bayonets, and feltgrateful for the foresight of the old staff uniform. They were ontheir way to surprise and take the picket; not to defend but toattack.
The opportunity was too good to be lost. There was no hurry. He hadarranged to remain three days on the Ridge--he might not have anotheropportunity of a free fair fight.
He had forgotten every woman in the world, everything save the welcomesilence before him as he turned and stole through the trees also,sword in hand.
By all that was lucky and well-planned! the picket must be asleep! Nota sound save the faint crackle of stealthy feet almost lost in theinsistent quiver of the cicalas. No! there was a challenge at lastwithin a foot or two.
"Who--kum--dar?"
And swift as an echo a young voice beside him came jibingly:
"It's me, Pandy! Take that."
It's me! Just so; me with a vengeance. For the right attack and theleft were both well up. There was a short, sharp volley; then thewelcome familiar order. A cheer, a clatter, a rush and clashing withthe bayonets. It seemed but half a minute before Jim Douglas foundhimself among the guns slashing at a dazed artilleryman who had aport-fire in his hand. So the artillery on either side never had achance, and Major Erlton, riding up with the 9th Lancers as thecentral attack, found that bit of the fighting over. The picket wastaken, the mutineers had fled cityward leaving four guns behind them.And against one of these, as the Major rode close to gloat over it,leaned a man whom he recognized at once.
"My God! Douglas," he said, "where--where's Kate?--where's my wife?"
It was rather an abrupt transition of thought, and Jim Douglas, whowas feeling rather queer from something, he scarcely knew what, lookedup at the speaker doubtfully.
"Oh, it is you, Major Erlton," he said slowly. "I thought--I mean Ihoped she was here--if she isn't--why, I suppose I'd better go back."
He took his arm off the gun and half-stumbled forward, when MajorErlton flung himself from his horse and laid hold of him.
"You're hit, man--the blood's pouring from your sleeve. Here, off withyour coat, sharp!"
"I can't think why it bleeds so?" said Jim Douglas feebly, lookingdown at a clean cut at the inside of the elbow from which the bloodwas literally spouting. "It is nothing--nothing at all."
The Major gave a short laugh. "Take the go out of you a bit, though.I'll get a tourniquet on sharp, and send you up in a dhooli."
"What an unlucky devil I am!" muttered Jim Douglas to himself, and theMajor did not deny it: he was in a hurry to be off again with theparty told to clear the Koodsia Gardens. Which they did successfullybefore sunrise, when the expedition returned to camp cheering likedemons and dragging in the captured guns, on which some of the woundedmen sat triumphantly. It was their first real success sinceBudli-ke-serai, two months before; and they were in wild spirits.
Even the Doctor, fresh from shaking his head over many a form liftedhelplessly from the dhoolis, was jubilant as he sorted Jim Douglas'arm.
"Keep you here ten days or so I should say. There's always a chance ofits breaking out again till the wound is quite healed. Never mind! Youcan go into Delhi with the rest of us, before then."
"Yoicks forward!" cried a wounded lad in the cot close by. The Doctorturned sharply.
"If you don't keep quiet, Jones, I'll send you back to Meerut. And youtoo, Maloney. I've told you to lie still a dozen times."
"Sure, Docther dear, ye couldn't be so cruel," said a big Irishmansitting at the foot of his bed so as to get nearer to a new arrivalwho was telling the tale of the fight. "And me able-bodied andspoiling to be at me wurrk this three days."
"It's a curious fact," remarked the Doctor to Jim Douglas as hefinished bandaging him, "the hospital has been twice as insubordinatesince Nicholson came in. The men seem to think we are to assault Delhitomorrow. But we can't till the siege train comes, of course. So youmay be in at the death!"
Jim Douglas felt glad and sorry in a breath.
Finally he told himself he could let decision stand over for a day ortwo. He must see Hodson first, and find out if the letter he had hadfrom his spies about an Englishwoman, concealed in Delhi, referred toKate Erlton.