The Sirdar's Oath: A Tale of the North-West Frontier

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  ON THE GRAVE'S DARK BRINK.

  When, immediately on leaving his prisoner, Mushim Khan was informed thata believer had been brought in, escorting a woman, veiled, who had comefar to communicate with him upon a matter of importance, the Nawabbetrayed no surprise, nor did the statement that the woman, althoughdressed as one of their own women, was a Feringhi, elicit any, either.He coldly directed that they should be conducted to his durbar hall,and, accompanied by his son and Kuhandil Khan, he proceeded thither.

  Hilda Clive dropped her veil as she came into the presence of thechiefs. They returned her salaam gravely, eyeing her with the samefurtive curiosity as that which she felt with regard to them. Whatstately men they were, she thought. The very simplicity of their snowygarments and beautifully-folded turbans added a dignity from which anybarbaric splendour of jewels and colours would have detracted. So thiswas Mushim Khan, she thought, instinctively recognising the Nawab. Hewas indeed a noble-looking man--and, although cold and stern at thatmoment, his face was not a cruel one--and the same held good of theothers. Surely she would obtain that for which she was here.

  And how came it that she was here? Simply one of those strangeimpressions of prevoyance to which she was at times given. It had beenborne in upon her with a vivid and startling suddenness that the missingman was in great peril; so incisive and convincing indeed was thisimpression as to dispel forthwith the idea that he was acourteously-treated prisoner of war in the hands of a generous andhonourable enemy. She, and she alone, had power to save him. AllOrientals were fond of money, she had heard--fortunately, she hadplenty. She would literally redeem him, would buy his release, eventhough it cost her every farthing she had in the world.

  The plan once conceived, she lost no time in carrying it out. She saidno word about it to anybody, for fear of being interfered with, but,leaving a note for the Tarletons, she started off with Mehrab Khan forthe Nawab's stronghold.

  The Baluchi had raised no objection. He took it as quite a matter ofcourse that she should require him to accompany her alone into the midstof a hostile tribe. So, having adopted the Gularzai attire and beingwell armed, he had brought her in safety hither.

  But now poor Hilda found herself in a quandary at the off-set. Herknowledge of Hindustani was of the slightest, and Mehrab Khan'sknowledge of English _nil_. She could make him understand her inordinary matters, but as an interpreter she feared he might prove oflittle use. But here aid came from an unlooked-for quarter.

  "If you will allow me to be your interpreter, madam, I will strive toconvey to my father what you wish to say."

  Hilda stared. It was Shere Dil Khan who had spoken, and his English waswell-nigh faultless. She thanked him, and then without waste of wordsset forward the object of her visit. But it was hardly necessary forhim to interpret the Nawab's reply. She knew that it was a stern andemphatic refusal.

  "Who is this woman, and what is she to the prisoner?" asked Mushim Khan."Is she his wife?"

  This, though more courteously rendered, brought the colour to Hilda'sface, and she replied that she was not--but only a distant relation.She thought it was time delicately to hint at the question of ransom.

  Delicately--yes--because there was that about these stately chiefs thatseemed to render the subject as difficult of approach as though theywere Europeans of social equality.

  "I know that it is not unusual, Sirdar Sahib, to ransom prisoners ofwar," she said. "This I am prepared with. Will a lakh of rupeessatisfy the Nawab?"

  "I cannot put that to my father," said Shere Dil Khan.

  "Is it not enough? Well, name your own price." Her colour came andwent, and she spoke eagerly and quickly.

  "It is not that, but--"

  "Well, put it, put it!" returned Hilda, unable to restrain an impatientstamp of the foot. "Put it, I entreat you."

  He looked at her hesitatingly for a moment, then complied. A changecame over the features of Mushim Khan as he listened, and his eyesfairly blazed with wrath.

  "Am I a vile Hindu trader to be approached with such an offer?" he said."Is the blood of my brother--the ignominy of his death--a mere questionof rupees, of a lakh more or less? Tell this woman that all the rupeesin the treasury of the _Sirkar_ for a hundred years would not redeem theman whose father put to death with ignominy one of our house. He diesat sunrise to-morrow. As for her, she came alone and trusting to myprotection. Praised be Allah, it shall be extended to her, and to herattendant. Let refreshment be given her, and with my safe conduct lether depart."

  This Shere Dil Khan duly rendered. But Hilda did not move. Great tearsrose to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  "He must not die, ah--he must not die," she said. "Listen, SirdarSahib. Tell the Nawab I offer him all I have in the world, five lakhsof rupees, in redemption of this life. See, I have braved all and everydanger, and travelled alone here to save it. He is brave, he must begenerous. Oh, make him relent."

  Animation made all the difference in the world to Hilda Clive'sappearance. When she was animated to this extent she was beautiful--moreover, the Gularzai dress became her well. Shere Dil Khan looked ather with pity and concern. But the faces of the other two remained hardas granite.

  "I have said and I have no more to say," answered the Nawab, when thishad been translated to him. "He dies at sunrise. I have sworn it. Andnow, let her depart."

  Hilda stood for a few moments in silence, her great eyes fixed upon theNawab's face. Then she said,--

  "May I not see him? May I not bid him farewell? That will not breakthe chief's oath."

  Mushim Khan pondered for a moment and frowned. The terrible vendettaspirit had entirely warped his nature, which was not naturally a harshor cruel one, rendering him utterly merciless. But he answered,--

  "She can see him until the hour of prayer. Then she must depart as shecame."

  Hilda thanked the Nawab, then, having directed her Baluchi escort towait for her there, without the loss of a moment, turned to follow ShereDil Khan, who had been chosen to accompany her. As they drew near theplace of Raynier's confinement he said,--

  "I have been ordered to be present throughout your interview, but I willnot carry out that literally. You shall see your relation alone. Thisis the place."

  She entered the door he held open, then closed it behind her. She andHerbert Raynier were alone together.

  "Great Heavens!" cried the latter, sitting up and rubbing his eyes withamazement. "Great Heavens! Hilda!"

  "Yes, Hilda," she answered, her eyes brimming again.

  He had never seen her like this, and down went every barrier ofconventionality. He had risen to his shackled feet, and now withoutfurther words she was locked in his close embrace.

  "How and when did they capture you?" he asked at length.

  "They did not capture me: I am free."

  "Free?" And his glance rested on her Gularzai attire, and seemed tofreeze.

  "I am a thought reader, remember," she said, with a wan smile, as shefollowed his glance. "No, it is not as you think. I put on thisdisguise for safety's sake." And then, in as few words as possible, fortime was valuable, she told him of her plan, and how it had failed.

  "But it has not failed," he answered emphatically. "It has given me thesight of your dear self once more. Oh, darling, to think that youshould have undertaken such a thing--and for me. There is no otherwoman under the sun who would have done it."

  "Not if she--"

  "Say it, say it," he urged, holding her more closely.

  "Loved you. There. I will say it. I would say anything now. Listen,Herbert, can nothing be done? Can we not bribe some of them? I havemoney--plenty of it. Think quickly--time is so short. This one whospeaks English so well, the Nawab's son. Is he to be bought?"

  "Oh, then he does speak English?"

  "Yes. Shall I offer him what his father refused? Shall I? Shall I?"

  "What did his father refuse?"

>   "All I am worth--five lakhs of rupees. He said a million would beequally useless."

  "Hilda! You did not do this?"

  "I did. I would not have told you at any other time. But now--nothingseems to matter. Nothing--nothing."

  Words failed him, failed them both--but their understanding wascomplete; even as it had been during their wanderings together. Thennothing had been said, but every tone, every glance, had been anunderstanding in itself. And time was so precious.

  "Listen, Herbert. I have a plan. You shall put on my clothes, and passout instead of me. By stooping a little you can diminish your height.And the veil will do the rest."

  "And these?" he said, clinking his fetters.

  "Ah, I forgot. Heaven help me, I forgot," she cried.

  "Do you think, in any case, I would have agreed to save my precious skinat the price of leaving you in their power? Why, Hilda, I wonder youthought me worth stirring a finger for, at all."

  She looked at him, long and earnestly and hopelessly, as though tophotograph his image in her brain. How ill he looked, pale and haggard,and hollow cheeked. It was not much of a time for thinking ofappearances, but he felt thankful that the advantages of the Mahomedaninjunctions of cleanliness had been extended to him--a prisoner.

  "Sweetheart, God bless you for coming to me at the last," he went on."It was grand--intrepid. Tell me, Hilda. You have known all the timethat I loved you?"

  "Yes, I knew," she answered chokingly. Then, with forced gaiety, "Youdid not on the voyage, though."

  "Was I not a born fool? Oh, my darling, what happiness might have beenours. What might not our lives have been but for this?"

  A thought of Cynthia Daintree crossed her mind, of Cynthia Daintreeamusing herself at Mazaran, while claiming this man's bond. An impulsecame upon her to ask about that affair, but she forebore. Nothing of adisturbing nature must come between them now. And time was so short, soprecious.

  Then for a short sacred half hour they talked--and their words, utteredon the brink of the grave of one of them, were so deep, so sacred as notto bear intrusion. And then Shere Dil Khan's voice was heard outside,proclaiming that the time had come for the interview to end.

  "We have found our happiness only to lose it," whispered Raynier. "Butthat is better than never having known it. Is it not?"

  "Yes, yes--a thousand times. God bless you, O my love, my love!"

  To the end of her life Hilda will never know how she tore herself fromthe last close embrace. And Heaven was deaf to the cry of her widowedsoul, deaf as the polite but impassive Oriental who conducted her forthfrom that chamber of heartbreak and despair.