The Heath Hover Mystery

through athick mist.

  Helston Varne was at Coates' camp, which had been their objective whentheir plans had been thus roughly and suddenly deflected. She wouldhardly own to herself how greatly she had been looking forward tomeeting him again, and now it seemed to her that he, of all humanagencies, would be the one to come to their aid and bring matters right.How on earth he was going to do it she had not the ghost of an idea,but that he would contrive to do it somehow, she felt assured--almost.For the very name of Helston Varne seemed to her now as before, a towerof refuge. And something of this she imparted to her uncle.

  But he shook a gloomy head. A network was around him--around themboth--which even Helston Varne's acumen and infinite resource would bepowerless to rend asunder. This he knew, but she did not, and--he couldnot tell her.

  He had been very careful in his conversations with her, and had enjoinedupon her like caution. It was highly probable, but still not absolutelysafe to assume, that no one amid their captors understood English. Shesuggested French, but then Mervyn's education, though excellent forpurposes of passing through a crammer's hands in his salad days,comprised no working knowledge of that courtly and useful tongue, sothat fell through, and unless now and again, and then by dark hints,they were compelled to avoid any reference to the motive of theircapture, and the ultimate chances of its satisfactory termination. Andthen it befell that the merest chance--a piece of overheardconversation--sufficed to throw him into the last stage of gloomy,hopeless despair.

  It was during one of their noontide halts. The routine of prayer andprostration--which Melian had at first found so picturesque, evenadmirable, but now had wearied of--was over, and the men were scatteredabout in twos or threes, looking after the horses and other things. Twoof them were chatting together in a drowsy undertone, and Mervyn,unnoticed by them, was just within earshot, and the substance of whatthey were saying was this. He himself must die, his time had come.That night they would reach the place--_the place_. Well, this as apersonal consideration troubled him not much, he had only expected it.But the woman with the sun-tinged hair, they went on to say, she, unlessthe _Sirkar_ at Mazaran paid the lakh of rupees which would be asked forher restoration--or made any move against them because of what had beendone--why there were those over the Persian border who would give nearlyif not quite as much for such an addition to their _harim_.

  In frozen horror he took in this, but it was essential to show no signthat he had heard. Would such a sum be paid, and if it were, would notofficial delay and official bungling be such as to render evencompliance of none effect? Moreover, could the authorities responsiblefor the peace of the border allow so flagrant an act of dacoity to passwithout retaliative measures? In either case--Good Heavens! He knewenough about the conditions of a vast tract of hardly penetratedcountry, and its inscrutable inhabitants, to realise that once Meliandisappeared entirely she would be as completely swallowed up, as thoughthe whole Indian army, and the official mechanism, from the Viceroydownwards, were not in existence. And this was the fate to which hisown foolhardiness had consigned her. And she was as much to him as everchild of his own could have been!

  He knew the two speakers as near kinsmen of Allah-din Khan, and that assuch that they were not talking at random. He himself was to die thatnight, that was settled. That was nothing. "It was written." But howto save Melian from the unutterable ghastliness of the fate mapped outfor her? That was everything. No amount of fatalism would come to hisaid there. In the hot swelter of noontide--for with all the keen chillof the nights on these high lands, the sun at noonday threw off from therocks and arid ground in waves of glowing heat--his brain seemed tobubble. One weltering thought seethed through it--that of taking herlife and his own at the same time, but as against this he rememberedthat he was unarmed. They had insisted upon his giving up everything inthe shape of a weapon at the time of his surrender. Then again, she hadthe one chance in her favour, what right had he to deprive her of it?Well, there remained still some hours--_some hours only_--which he hadleft to him, and yet his reason told him that they could bring nothing.Of his own death, or even the manner of it, he did not think--so wrappedup was he in the desperation of extremity as the situation affected her.

  "Why, Uncle Seward, buck up. You are looking dreadfully down," sheremarked, as they resumed their journey. "And you were the one who wasalways trying to hearten me."

  "Yes darling, I was, but--perhaps I am not quite the thing. Got a touchof the sun, or something. But I'll be all right when it gets cooler. Atough old campaigner like me is never affected that way for long."

  He noticed that she herself was far from cheerful, and that her spiritswere forced. But--great God! if she only knew what he had learned. Insheer desperation he ranged his horse alongside that of Allah-din Khan,and began to talk, haply in hope that the other might let fall some hintwhich should give him an idea. It even seemed to him that he himselfwas talking wildly and at random, for he surprised the chief looking athim more than once in a restrained and curious manner. Yet they hadoften talked together during their enforced march.

  "I should not have consented to the Miss Sahib accompanying me," heventured. "I fear it has been too much for her. Could you not returnher to her people, brother? It would be of great advantage to allconcerned?"

  He made the remark in sheer desperation, and emphasising the last words.But nothing came of it.

  "We have come far," replied Allah-din Khan, tranquilly, "but in time shewill return. The teachings of the Prophet enjoin patience, but women--Feringhi women especially--have none of it. Let this one learn toacquire it."

  This was uncompromising, but Mervyn thought to see a loophole.

  "In time she will return," he repeated. "That is the word of a Sirdarof the Gularzai?"

  To this the chief made no reply. He was looking straight in front ofhim as he rode, and his dark, clear-cut face was as impassive as a mask.He might, indeed, not have heard for all the sign he gave.

  In the light of what he had overheard it was significant to Mervyn thata glance at the sun showed that they were travelling due west. Whatcurious dash of wild hope was it that caused him to recall that this hadbrought them a great deal nearer to Mazaran than they were when at thepoint of their start? And yet, even if chance offered, there wereranges of craggy, tooth-like crests between them and the garrisonstation, and he himself was totally unacquainted with this part of thecountry. But what chance could offer? None. Absolutely none.

  An hour before sundown they halted at a small, squalid looking village--and then the regulation performances of prayer were gone through. Hedid notice that several strangers had joined with Allah-din Khan's bandin this--presumably people from the squalid, mud-walled village. Thatone of them was a man of extra fine stature and presence, he alsonoticed, but barely so. For instance he overlooked the fact that thisone was bowing down, and repeating the prescribed words with extrafervour, and a fanatical ecstasy in his dark eyes and swarthycountenance, and that the others were stealing at him glances of furtiveveneration.

  As they resumed their march he ranged his horse alongside that ofMelian. No restriction was put upon such movements as this. The bandwas riding anyhow and in open order now--straggling order would be thebetter term for it, for some were quite far behind. In the first placetheir captives were mounted on inferior steeds, in the next the Gularzaiwere perfectly well aware that in such country as they now were in, anyattempt at escape would meet with not the ghost of a chance.

  "My child, I have brought you into a dreadful corner," he said, and thedead note of hopelessness in his tone struck a chill into his hearer."I ought never to have consented to your accompanying me, but now it'stoo late. Listen. If anything should happen to me, you will still beset free on a ransom. The Government will pay it, I have very little inthe world, but such as it is I have left it to you--and now but for mebeing such a fool as to bring you here we might have gone on in our oldquiet, happy life; not necessarily at Heath Hover
. Well, what I wantedto say, and I must say it quickly, is this, If anything should happen tome, ask to be taken to the Nawab Shere Dil Khan. He is the head chiefof the Gularzai, and this one is under him. I'll write the words downfor you in Hindustani, and you can learn them by heart--and keep onasking--keep on asking." He felt in his pocket, and even wrote in hispocket, on an envelope he found there. "And don't show any fear, keepon steadfastly requiring the Nawab Shere Dil Khan--have you got thename, well, I've put it down here, only it's not very distinct. Wellnow, take the bit of paper--That was well done. And--there's anotherthing."

  Melian looked at the speaker and her eyes filled. Her nerves had begunto go, and she was feeling utterly helpless and overwrought. Now thisstrong foreboding of danger aggravated this.

  "Darling Uncle Seward, what should be going to happen