King--of the Khyber Rifles: A Romance of Adventure Read online

  Produced by M.R.J.

  KING--OF THE KHYBER RIFLES

  A Romance of Adventure

  By Talbot Mundy

  Chapter I

  Suckled were we in a school unkind On suddenly snatched deduction And ever ahead of you (never behind!) Over the border our tracks you'll find, Wherever some idiot feels inclined To scatter the seeds of ruction.

  For eyes we be, of Empire, we! Skinned and Puckered and quick to see And nobody guesses how wise we be. Unwilling to advertise we be. But, hot on the trail of ties, we be The pullers of roots of ruction!

  --Son of the Indian Secret Service

  The men who govern India--more power to them and her!--are few. Thosewho stand in their way and pretend to help them with a flood of wordsare a host. And from the host goes up an endless cry that India is thehome of thugs, and of three hundred million hungry ones.

  The men who know--and Athelstan King might claim to know alittle--answer that she is the original home of chivalry and the modernmistress of as many decent, gallant, native gentlemen as ever graced apage of history.

  The charge has seen the light in print that India--well-spring ofplague and sudden death and money-lenders--has sold her soul to twentysucceeding conquerors in turn.

  Athelstan King and a hundred like him whom India has picked from Britishstock and taught, can answer truly that she has won it back again fromeach by very purity of purpose.

  So when the world war broke the world was destined to be surprised onIndia's account. The Red Sea, full of racing transports crowded withdark-skinned gentlemen, whose one prayer was that the war might not beover before they should have struck a blow for Britain, was the Indianarmy's answer to the press.

  The rest of India paid its taxes and contributed and muzzled itself andset to work to make supplies. For they understand in India, almost asnowhere else, the meaning of such old-fashioned words as gratitude andhonor; and of such platitudes as, "Give and it shall be given unto you."

  More than one nation was deeply shocked by India's answer to "practises"that had extended over years. But there were men in India who learned tolove India long ago with that love that casts out fear, who knew exactlywhat was going to happen and could therefore afford to wait for ordersinstead of running round in rings.

  Athelstan King, for instance, nothing yet but a captain unattached, satin meagerly furnished quarters with his heels on a table. He is not adoctor, yet he read a book on surgery, and when he went over to the clubhe carried the book under his arm and continued to read it there. He isconsidered a rotten conversationalist, and he did nothing at the club toimprove his reputation.

  "Man alive--get a move on!" gasped a wondering senior, accepting acigar. Nobody knows where he gets those long, strong, black cheroots,and nobody ever refuses one.

  "Thanks--got a book to read," said King.

  "You ass! Wake up and grab the best thing in sight, as a stepping stoneto something better! Wake up and worry!"

  King grinned. You have to when you don't agree with a senior officer,for the army is like a school in many more ways than one.

  "Help yourself, sir! I'll take the job that's left when the scramble'sover. Something good's sure to be overlooked."

  "White feather? Laziness? Dark Horse?" the major wondered. Then hehurried away to write telegrams, because a belief thrives in the earlydays of any war that influence can make or break a man's chances. Inthe other room where the telegraph blanks were littered in confusionall about the floor, he ran into a crony whose chief sore point wasAthelstan King, loathing him as some men loathe pickles or sardines, forno real reason whatever, except that they are what they are.

  "Saw you talking to King," he said.

  "Yes. Can't make him out. Rum fellow!"

  "Rum? Huh! Trouble is he's seventh of his family in succession to servein India. She has seeped into him and pickled his heritage. He's abeliever in Kismet crossed on to Opportunity. Not sure he doesn't prayto Allah on the sly! Hopeless case."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Quite!"

  So they all sent telegrams and forgot King who sat and smoked and readabout surgery; and before he had nearly finished one box of cherootsa general at Peshawur wiped a bald red skull and sent him an urgenttelegram.

  "Come at once!" it said simply.

  King was at Lahore, but miles don't matter when the dogs of war areloosed. The right man goes to the right place at the exact right timethen, and the fool goes to the wall. In that one respect war is betterthan some kinds of peace.

  In the train on the way to Peshawur he did not talk any more volubly,and a fellow traveler, studying him from the opposite corner of thestifling compartment, catalogued him as "quite an ordinary man." But hewas of the Public Works Department, which is sorrowfully underpaid andwears emotions on its sleeve for policy's sake, believing of course thatall the rest of the world should do the same.

  "Don't you think we're bound in honor to go to Belgium's aid?" he asked."Can you see any way out of it?"

  "Haven't looked for one," said King.

  "But don't you think--"

  "No," said King. "I hardly ever think. I'm in the army, don't you know,and don't have to. What's the use of doing somebody else's work?"

  "Rotter!" thought the P.W.D. man, almost aloud; but King was nottroubled by any further forced conversation. Consequently he reachedPeshawur comfortable, in spite of the heat. And his genial mannerof saluting the full-general who met him with a dog-cart at Peshawurstation was something scandalous.

  "Is he a lunatic or a relative or royalty?" the P.W.D. man wondered.

  Full-generals, particularly in the early days of war, do not driveto the station to meet captains very often; yet King climbed into thedog-cart unexcitedly, after keeping the general waiting while he checkeda trunk!

  The general cracked his whip without any other comment than a smile.A blood mare tore sparks out of the macadam, and a dusty military roadbegan to ribbon out between the wheels. Sentries in unexpected placesannounced themselves with a ring of shaken steel as their rifles came tothe "present," which courtesies the general noticed with a raised whip.Then a fox-terrier resumed his chase of squirrels between the plantedshade-trees, and Peshawur became normal, shimmering in light and heatreflected from the "Hills."

  (The P.W.D. man, who would have giggled if a general mentioned him byname, walked because no conveyance could be hired. Judgment was in thewind.)

  On the dog-cart's high front seat, staring straight ahead of him betweenthe horse's ears, King listened. The general did nearly all the talking.

  "The North's the danger."

  King grunted with the lids half-lowered over full dark eyes. He did notlook especially handsome in that attitude. Some men swear he looks likea Roman, and others liken him to a gargoyle, all of them choosing toignore the smile that can transform his whole face instantly.

  "We're denuding India of troops--not keeping back more than a merehandful to hold the tribes in check."

  King nodded. There has never been peace along the northwest border. Itdid not need vision to foresee trouble from that quarter. In fact itmust have been partly on the strength of some of King's reports that thegeneral was planning now.

  "That was a very small handful of Sikhs you named as likely to givetrouble. Did you do that job thoroughly?"

  King grunted.

  "Well--Delhi's chock-full of spies, all listening to stories made inGermany for them to take back to the 'Hills' with 'em. The tribes'llknow presently how many men we're sending oversea. There've been rumorsabout Khinjan by the hundred lately. They're cooking something.
Can youimagine 'em keeping quiet now?"

  "That depends, sir. Yes, I can imagine it."

  The general laughed. "That's why I sent for you. I need a man withimagination! There's a woman you've got to work with on this occasionwho can imagine a shade or two too much. What's worse, she's ambitious.So I chose you to work with her."

  King's lips stiffened under his mustache, and the corners of his eyeswrinkled into crow's-feet to correspond. Eyes are never coal-black, ofcourse, but his looked it at that minute.

  "You know we've sent men to Khinjan who are said to have entered theCaves. Not one of 'em has ever returned."

  King frowned.

  "She claims she can enter the Caves and come out again at pleasure. Shehas offered to do it, and I have accepted."

  It would not have been polite to look incredulous, so King's expressionchanged to one of intense interest a little overdone, as the general didnot fail to notice.

  "If she hadn't given proof of devotion and ability, I'd have turnedher down. But she has. Only the other day she uncovered a plot inDelhi--about a million dynamite bombs in a ruined temple in charge of aGerman agent for use by mutineers supposed to be ready to rise againstus. Fact! Can you guess who she is?"

  "Not Yasmini?" King hazarded, and the general nodded and flicked hiswhip. The horse mistook it for a signal, and it was two minutes beforethe speed was reduced to mere recklessness.

  The helmet-strap mark, printed indelibly on King's jaw and cheek by theIndian sun, tightened and grew whiter--as the general noted out of thecorner of his eye.

  "Know her?"

  "Know of her, of course, sir. Everybody does. Never met her to myknowledge."

  "Um-m-m! Whose fault was that? Somebody ought to have seen to that. Goto Delhi now and meet her. I'll send her a wire to say you're coming.She knows I've chosen you. She tried to insist on full discretion, butI overruled her. Between us two, she'll have discretion once she getsbeyond Jamrud. The 'Hills' are full of our spies, of course, but noneof 'em dare try Khinjan Caves any more and you'll be the only check weshall have on her."

  King's tongue licked his lips, and his eyes wrinkled. The general'svoice became the least shade more authoritative.

  "When you see her, get a pass from her that'll take you into KhinjanCaves! Ask her for it! For the sake of appearances I'll gazette youSeconded to the Khyber Rifles. For the sake of success, get a pass fromher!"

  "Very well, sir."

  "You've a brother in the Khyber Rifles, haven't you? Was it you or yourbrother who visited Khinjan once and sent in a report?"

  "I did, sir."

  He spoke without pride. Even the brigade of British-Indian cavalry thatwent to Khinjan on the strength of his report and leveled its defenseswith the ground, had not been able to find the famous Caves. Yet theCaves themselves are a by-word.

  "There's talk of a jihad (holy war). There's worse than that! When youwent to Khinjan, what was your chief object?"

  "To find the source of the everlasting rumors about the so-called 'Heartof the Hills,' sir."

  "Yes, yes. I remember. I read your report. You didn't find anything, didyou? Well. The story is now that the 'Heart of the Hills' has come tolife. So the spies say."

  King whistled softly.

  "There's no guessing what it means," said the general. "Go and findout. Go and work with Yasmini. I shall have enough men here to attackinstantly and smash any small force as soon as it begins to gatheranywhere near the border. But Khinjan is another story. We can't proveanything, but the spies keep bringing in rumors of ten thousand men inKhinjan Caves, and of another large lashkar not far away from Khinjan.There must be no jihad, King! India is all but defenseless! We cantackle sporadic raids. We can even handle an ordinary raid in force. Butthis story about a 'Heart of the Hills' coming to life may presage unityof action and a holy war such as the world has not seen. Go up there andstop it if you can. At least, let me know the facts."

  King grunted. To stop a holy war single-handed would be rather likestopping the wind--possibly easy enough, if one knew the way. Yethe knew no general would throw away a man like himself on a uselessventure. He began to look happy.

  The general clucked to the mare and the big beast sank an inch betweenthe shafts. The sais behind set his feet against the drop-board andclung with both hands to the seat. One wheel ceased to touch the gravelas they whirled along a semicircular drive. Suddenly the mare drew upon her haunches, under the porch of a pretentious residence. Sentriessaluted. The sais swung down. In less than sixty seconds King wasfollowing the general through a wide entrance into a crowded hall. Theinstant the general's fat figure darkened the doorway twenty men ofhigher rank than King, native and English, rose from lined-up chairs andpressed forward.

  "Sorry--have to keep you all waiting--busy!" He waved them aside with alittle apologetic gesture. "Come in here, King."

  King followed him through a door that slammed tight behind them onrubber jambs.

  "Sit down!"

  The general unlocked a steel drawer and began to rummage among thepapers in it. In a minute he produced a package, bound in rubber bands,with a faded photograph face-upward on the top.

  "That's the woman! How d'you like the look of her?"

  King took the package and for a minute stared hard at the likeness of awoman whose fame has traveled up and down India, until her witcheryhas become a proverb. She was dressed as a dancing woman, yet very fewdancing women could afford to be dressed as she was.

  King's service uses whom it may, and he had met and talked with manydancing women in the course of duty; but as he stared at Yasmini'slikeness he did not think he had ever met one who so measured up torumor. The nautch he knew for a delusion. Yet--!

  The general watched his face with eyes that missed nothing.

  "Remember--I said work with her!"

  King looked up and nodded.

  "They say she's three parts Russian," said the general. "To my ownknowledge she speaks Russian like a native, and about twenty othertongues as well, including English. She speaks English as well as you orI. She was the girl-widow of a rascally Hill-rajah. There's a story I'veheard, to the effect that Russia arranged her marriage in the day whenIndia was Russia's objective--and that's how long ago?--seems likeweeks, not years! I've heard she loved her rajah. And I've heard shedidn't! There's another story that she poisoned him. I know she gotaway with his money--and that's proof enough of brains! Some say she'sa she-devil. I think that's an exaggeration, but bear in mind she'sdangerous!"

  King grinned. A man who trusts Eastern women over readily does not risefar in the Secret Service.

  "If you've got nous enough to keep on her soft side and use her--not lether use you--you can keep the 'Hills' quiet and the Khyber safe! Ifyou can contrive that--now--in this pinch--there's no limit for you!Commander-in-chief shall be your job before you're sixty!"

  King pocketed the photograph and papers. "I'm well enough content, sir,as things are," he said quietly.

  "Well, remember she's ambitious, even if you're not! I'm not preachingambition, mind--I'm warning you! Ambition's bad! Study those papers onyour way down to Delhi and see that I get them back."

  The general paced once across the room and once back again, with handsbehind him. Then he stopped in front of King.

  "No man in India has a stiffer task than you have now! It may encourageyou to know that I realize that! She's the key to the puzzle, and shehappens to be in Delhi. Go to Delhi, then. A jihad launched from the'Hills' would mean anarchy in the plains. That would entail sendingback from France an army that can't be spared. There must be no jihad,King!--There must--not--be--one! Keep that in your head!"

  "What arrangements have been made with her, sir?"

  "Practically none! She's watching the spies in Delhi, but they're likelyto break for the 'Hills' any minute. Then they'll be arrested. When thathappens the fate of India may be in your hands and hers! Get out of myway now, until tiffin-time!"

  In a way that some men never learn, King proceede
d to efface himselfentirely among the crowd in the hall, contriving to say nothing of anyaccount to anybody until the great gong boomed and the general ledthem all in to his long dining table. Yet he did not look furtiveor secretive. Nobody noticed him, and he noticed everybody. There isnothing whatever secretive about that.

  The fare was plain, and the meal a perfunctory affair. The general andhis guests were there for other reason than to eat food, and only theman who happened to seat himself next to King--a major by the name ofHyde--spoke to him at all.

  "Why aren't you with your regiment?" he asked.

  "Because the general asked me to lunch, sir!"

  "I suppose you've been pestering him for an appointment!"

  King, with his mouth full of curr did not answer, but his eyes smiled.

  "It's astonishing to me," said the major, "that a captain should leavehis company when war has begun! When I was captain I'd have been drivenout of the service if I'd asked for leave of absence at such a time!"

  King made no comment, but his expression denoted belief.

  "Are you bound for the front, sir?" he asked presently. But Hyde did notanswer. They finished the meal in silence.

  After lunch he was closeted with the general again for twenty minutes.Then one of the general's carriages took him to the station and it didnot appear to trouble him at all that the other occupant of the carriagewas the self-same Major Hyde who had sat next him at lunch. In fact, hesmiled so pleasantly that Hyde grew exasperated. Neither of them spoke.At the station Hyde lost his temper openly, and King left him abusing anunhappy native servant.

  The station was crammed to suffocation by a crowd that roared andwrithed and smelt to high heaven. At one end of the platform, in themidst of a human eddy, a frenzied horse resisted with his teeth and allfour feet at once the efforts of six natives and a British sergeant toforce him into a loose-box. At the back of the same platform the littledark-brown mules of a mountain battery twitched their flanks in line,jingling chains and stamping when the flies bit home.

  Flies buzzed everywhere. Fat native merchants vied with lean and timidones in noisy effort to secure accommodation on a train already crowdedto the limit. Twenty British officers hunted up and down for the placessupposed to have been reserved for them, and sweating servants hurriedafter them with arms full of heterogeneous baggage, swearing atthe crowd that swore back ungrudgingly. But the general himself hadtelephoned for King's reservation, so he took his time.

  There were din and stink and dust beneath a savage sun, shaken intoreverberations by the scream of an engine's safety valve. It was Indiain essence and awake!--India arising out of lethargy!--India as she ismore often nowadays--and it made King, for the time being of the KhyberRifles, happier than some other men can be in ballrooms.

  Any one who watched him--and there was at least one man who did--musthave noticed his strange ability, almost like that of water, to reachthe point he aimed for, through, and not around, the crowd.

  He neither shoved nor argued. Orders and blows would have been equallyuseless, for had it tried the crowd could not have obeyed, and it was inno mind to try. Without the least apparent effort he arrived--andthere is no other word that quite describes it--he arrived, throughthe densest part of the sweating throng of humans, at the door of theluggage office.

  There, though a bunnia's sharp elbow nagged his ribs, and the bunnia'sservant dropped a heavy package on his foot, he smiled so genially thathe melted the wrath of the frantic luggage clerk. But not at once. Eventhe sun needs seconds to melt ice.

  "Am I God?" the babu wailed. "Can I do all the-e things in all the-eworld at once if not sooner?"

  King's smile began to get its work in. The man ceased gesticulating towipe sweat from his stubbly jowl with the end of a Punjabi headdress. Heactually smiled back. Who was he, that he should suspect new outrage orguess he was about to be used in a game he did not understand? He wouldhave stopped all work to beg for extra pay at the merest suggestion ofsuch a thing; but as it was he raised both fists and lapsed into his owntongue to apostrophize the ruffian who dared jostle King. A Northernerwho did not seem to understand Punjabi almost cost King his balance ashe thrust broad shoulders between him and the bunnia.

  The bunnia chattered like an outraged ape; but King, the person mostentitled to be angry, actually apologized! That being a miracle, thebabu forthwith wrought another one, and within a minute King's one trunkwas checked through to Delhi.

  "Delhi is right, sahib?" he asked, to make doubly sure; for in Indiawhere the milk of human kindness is not hawked in the market-place, menwill pay over-measure for a smile.

  "Yes. Delhi is right. Thank you, babuji."

  He made more room for the Hillman, beaming amusement at the man'simpatience; but the Hillman had no luggage and turned away, making anunexpected effort to hide his face with a turban end. He who had forcedhis way to the front with so much violence and haste now burst backagain toward the train like a football forward tearing through the thickof his opponents. He scattered a swath a yard wide, for he had shoulderslike a bull. King saw him leap into third-class carriage. He saw, too,that he was not wanted in the carriage. There was a storm of protestfrom tight-packed native passengers, but the fellow had his way.

  The swath through the crowd closed up like water in a ship's wake, butit opened again for King. He smiled so humorously that the angry jostledones smiled too and were appeased, forgetting haste and bruises andindignity merely because understanding looked at them through merryeyes. All crowds are that way, but an Indian crowd more so than all.

  Taking his time, and falling foul of nobody, King marked down a nativeconstable--hot and unhappy, leaning with his back against the train. Hetouched him on the shoulder and the fellow jumped.

  "Nay, sahib! I am only constabeel--I know nothing--I can do nothing! Theteerain goes when it goes, and then perhaps we will beat these peoplefrom the platform and make room again! But there is no authority--no lawany more--they are all gone mad!"

  King wrote on a pad, tore off a sheet, folded it and gave it to him.

  "That is for the Superintendent of Police at the office. Carriage number1181, eleven doors from here--the one with the shut door and a bigHillman inside sitting three places from the door facing the engine.Get the Hillman! No, there is only one Hillman in the carriage. No, theothers are not his friends; they will not help him. He will fight, buthe has no friends in that carriage."

  The "constabeel" obeyed, not very cheerfully. King stood to watch himwith a foot on the step of a first-class coach. Another constable passedhim, elbowing a snail's progress between the train and the crowd. Heseized the man's arm.

  "Go and help that man!" he ordered. "Hurry!"

  Then he climbed into the carriage and leaned from the window. He grinnedas he saw both constables pounce on a third-class carriage door and,with the yell of good huntsmen who have viewed, seize the protestingNortherner by the leg and begin to drag him forth. There was a fight,that lasted three minutes, in the course of which a long knife flashed.But there were plenty to help take the knife away, and the Hillman stoodhandcuffed and sullen at last, while one of his captors bound a cutforearm. Then they dragged him away; but not before he had seen King atthe window, and had lipped a silent threat.

  "I believe you, my son!" King chuckled, half aloud. "I surely believeyou! I'll watch! Ham dekta hai!"

  "Why was that man arrested?" asked an acid voice behind him; and withouttroubling to turn his head, he knew that Major Hyde was to behis carriage mate again. To be vindictive, on duty or off it, isfoolishness; but to let opportunity slip by one is a crime. He lookedglad, not sorry, as he faced about--pleased, not disappointed--like aman on a desert island who has found a tool.

  "Why was that man arrested?" the major asked again.

  "I ordered it," said King.

  "So I imagined. I asked you why."

  King stared at him and then turned to watch the prisoner being draggedaway; he was fighting again, striking at his captors' heads withhandcuff
ed wrists.

  "Does he look innocent?" asked King.

  "Is that your answer?" asked the major. Balked ambition is an ugly horseto ride. He had tried for a command but had been shelved.

  "I have sufficient authority," said King, unruffled. He spoke as if hewere thinking of something entirely different. His eyes were as if theysaw the major from a very long way off and rather approved of him on thewhole.

  "Show me your authority, please!"

  King dived into an inner pocket and produced a card that had about tenwords written on its face, above a general's signature. Hyde read it andpassed it back.

  "So you're one of those, are you!" he said in a tone of voice that wouldstart a fight in some parts of the world and in some services. ButKing nodded cheerfully, and that annoyed the major more than ever; hesnorted, closed his mouth with a snap and turned to rearrange the sheetand pillow on his berth.

  Then the train pulled out, amid a din of voices from the left--behindthat nearly drowned the panting of overloaded engine. There was a roarof joy from the two coaches full of soldiers in the rear--a shriek froma woman who had missed the train--a babel of farewells tossed back andforth between the platform and the third-class carriages--and Peshawurfell away behind.

  King settled down on his side of the compartment, after a struggle withthe thermantidote that refused to work. There was heat enough below theroof to have roasted meat, so that the physical atmosphere became asturgid as the mental after a little while.

  Hyde all but stripped himself and drew on striped pajamas. King wascontent to lie in shirt-sleeves on the other berth, with knees raised,so that Hyde could not overlook the general's papers. At his ease hestudied them one by one, memorizing a string of names, with details asto their owners' antecedents and probable present whereabouts. Therewere several photographs in the packet, and he studied them verycarefully indeed.

  But much most carefully of all he examined Yasmini's portrait, returningto it again and again. He reached the conclusion in the end that when itwas taken she had been cunningly disguised.

  "This was intended for purpose of identification at a given time andplace," he told himself.

  "Were you muttering at me?" asked Hyde.

  "No, sir."

  "It looked extremely like it!"

  "My mistake, sir. Nothing of the sort intended."

  "H-rrrrr-ummmmmph!"

  Hyde turned an indignant back on him, and King studied the back as if hefound it interesting. On the whole he looked sympathetic, so it was aswell that Hyde did not look around. Balked ambition as a rule loathessympathy.

  After many prickly-hot, interminable, jolting hours the train drew up atRawal-Pindi station. Instantly King was on his feet with his tunic on,and he was out on the blazing hot platform before the train's motion hadquite ceased.

  He began to walk up and down, not elbowing but percolating through thecrowd, missing nothing worth noticing in all the hot kaleidoscope andseeming to find new amusement at every turn. It was not in the leastastonishing that a well-dressed native should address him presently, forhe looked genial enough to be asked to hold a baby. King himself did notseem surprised at all. Far from it; he looked pleased.

  "Excuse me, sir," said the man in glib babu English. "I am seekingCaptain King sahib, for whom my brother is veree anxious to be servant.Can you kindlee tell me, sir, where I could find Captain King sahib?"

  "Certainly," King answered him. He looked glad to be of help. "Are youtraveling on this train?"

  The question sounded like politeness welling from the lips ofunsuspicion.

  "Yes, sir. I am traveling from this place where I have spent a few days,to Bombay, where my business is.

  "How did you know King sahib is on the train?" King asked him, smilingso genially that even the police could not have charged him with morethan curiosity.

  "By telegram, sir. My brother had the misfortune to miss Captain Kingsahib at Peshawur and therefore sent a telegram to me asking me to dowhat I can at an interview."

  "I see," said King. "I see." And judging by the sparkle in his eyes ashe looked away he could see a lot. But the native could not see his eyesat that instant, although he tried to.

  He looked back at the train, giving the man a good chance to study hisface in profile.

  "Oh, thank you, sir!" said the native oilily. "You are most kind! I amyour humble servant, sir!"

  King nodded good-by to him, his dark eyes in the shadow of the khakihelmet seeming scarcely interested any longer.

  "Couldn't you find another berth?" Hyde asked him angrily when hestepped back into the compartment.

  "What were you out there looking for?"

  King smiled back at him blandly.

  "I think there are railway thieves on the train," he announced withoutany effort at relevance. He might not have heard the question.

  "What makes you think so?"

  "Observation, sir."

  "Oh! Then if you've seen thieves, why didn't you have 'em arrested? Youwere precious free with that authority of yours on Peshawur platform!"

  "Perhaps You'd care to take the responsibility, sir? Let me point outone of them."

  Full of grudging curiosity Hyde came to stand by him, and King steppedback just as the train began to move.

  "That man, sir--over there--no, beyond him--there!"

  Hyde thrust head and shoulders through the window, and a well-dressednative with one foot on the running-board at the back end of the traintook a long steady stare at him before jumping in and slamming the doorof a third-class carriage.

  "Which one?" demanded Hyde impatiently.

  "I don't see him now, sir!"

  Hyde snorted and returned to his seat in the silence of unspeakablescorn. But presently he opened a suitcase and drew out a repeatingpistol which he cocked carefully and stowed beneath his pillow; not atall a contemptible move, because the Indian railway thief is the mostresourceful specialist in the world. But King took no overt precautionsof any kind.

  After more interminable hours night shut down on them, red-hot,black-dark, mesmerically subdivided into seconds by the thump ofcarriage wheels and lit at intervals by showers of sparks from thegasping engine. The din of Babel rode behind the first-class carriages,for all the natives in the packed third-class talked all together.(In India, when one has spent a fortune on a third-class ticket, oneproceeds to enjoy the ride.) The train was a Beast out of Revelation,wallowing in noise.

  But after other, hotter hours the talking ceased. Then King, strangelywithout kicking off his shoes, drew a sheet up over his shoulders. Onthe opposite berth Hyde covered his head, to keep dust out of his hair,and presently King heard him begin to snore gently. Then, very carefullyhe adjusted his own position so that his profile lay outlined in the dimlight from the gas lamp in the roof. He might almost have been waitingto be shaved.

  The stuffiness increased to a degree that is sometimes preached inChristian churches as belonging to a sulphurous sphere beyond the grave.Yet he did not move a muscle. It was long after midnight when his vigilwas rewarded by a slight sound at the door. From that instant his eyeswere on the watch, under dark of closed lashes; but his even breathingwas that of the seventh stage of sleep that knows no dreams.

  A click of the door-latch heralded the appearance of a hand. With skill,of the sort that only special training can develop, a man in nativedress insinuated himself into the carriage without making another soundof any kind. King's ears are part of the equipment for his exactingbusiness, but he could not hear the door click shut again.

  For about five minutes, while the train swayed head-long into Indiandarkness, the man stood listening and watching King's face. He stoodso near that King recognized him for the one who had accosted him onRawal-Pindi platform. And he could see the outline of the knife-hiltthat the man's fingers clutched underneath his shirt.

  "He'll either strike first, so as to kill us both and do the lootingafterward--and in that case I think it will be easier to break his neckthan his arm--yes, decide
dly his neck; it's long and thin;--or--"

  His eyes feigned sleep so successfully that the native turned away atlast.

  "Thought so!" He dared open his eyes a mite wider. "He's pukka--true totype! Rob first and then kill! Rule number one with his sort, run whenyou've stabbed! Not a bad rule either, from their point of view!"

  As he watched, the thief drew the sheet back from Hyde's face, withtrained fingers that could have taken spectacles from the victims' nosewithout his knowledge. Then as fish glide in and out among the reedswithout touching them, swift and soft and unseen, his fingers searchedHyde's body. They found nothing. So they dived under the pillow andbrought out the pistol and a gold watch.

  After that he began to search the clothes that hung on a hook besideHyde's berth. He brought forth papers and a pocketbook--then money.Money went into one bag--papers and pocketbook into another. And thatwas evidence enough as well as risk enough. The knife would be due in aminute.

  King moved in his sleep, rather noisily, and the movement knocked a bookto the floor from the foot of his berth. The noise of that awoke Hyde,and King pretended to begin to wake, yawning and rolling on his back(that being much the safest position an unarmed man can take and muchthe most awkward for his enemy).

  "Thieves!" Hyde yelled at the top of his lungs, groping wildly for hispistol and not finding it.

  King sat up and rubbed his eyes. The native drew the knife,and--believing himself in command of the situation--hesitated for onepriceless second. He saw his error and darted for the door too late.With a movement unbelievably swift King was there ahead of him; and withanother movement not so swift, but much more disconcerting, he threw hissheet as the retiarius used to throw a net in ancient Rome. It wrappedround the native's head and arms, and the two went together to the floorin a twisted stranglehold.

  In another half-minute the native was groaning, for King had hisknife-wrist in two hands and was bending it backward while he pressedthe man's stomach with his knees.

  "Get his loot!" he panted between efforts.

  The knife fell to the floor, and the thief made a gallant effortto recover it, but King was too strong for him. He seized the knifehimself, slipped it in his own bosom and resumed his hold before thenative guessed what he was after. Then he kept a tight grip whileHyde knelt to grope for his missing property. The major found both thethief's bags, and held them up.

  "I expect that's all," said King, loosening his grip very gradually.The native noticed--as Hyde did not--that King had begun to seem almostabsent-minded; the thief lay quite still, looking up, trying to divinehis next intention. Suddenly the brakes went on, but King's grip did nottighten. The train began to scream itself to a standstill at a waysidestation, and King (the absent-minded)--very nearly grinned.

  "If I weren't in such an infernal hurry to reach Bombay--" Hydegrumbled; and King nearly laughed aloud then, for the thief knewEnglish, and was listening with all his ears, "--may I be damned if Iwouldn't get off at this station and wait to see that scoundrel broughtto justice!"

  The train jerked itself to a standstill, and a man with a lantern beganto chant the station's name.

  "Damn it!--I'm going to Bombay to act censor. I can't wait--they want methere."

  The instant the train's motion altogether ceased the heat shut in onthem as if the lid of Tophet had been slammed. The prickly beat burstout all over Hyde's skin and King's too.

  "Almighty God!" gasped Hyde, beginning to fan himself.

  There was plenty of excuse for relaxing hold still further, and Kingmade full use of it. A second later he gave a very good pretense of painin his finger-ends as the thief burst free. The native made a diveat his bosom for the knife, but he frustrated that. Then he made aprodigious effort, just too late, to clutch the man again, and he didsucceed in tearing loose a piece of shirt; but the fleeing robber musthave wondered, as he bolted into the blacker shadows of the stationbuilding, why such an iron-fingered, wide-awake sahib should have madesuch a truly feeble showing at the end.

  "Damn it!--couldn't you hold him? Were you afraid of him, or what?"demanded Hyde, beginning to dress himself. Instead of answering, Kingleaned out into the lamp-lit gloom, and in a minute he caught sight of asergeant of native infantry passing down the train. He made a sign thatbrought the man to him on the run.

  "Did you see that runaway?" he asked.

  "Ha, sahib. I saw one running. Shall I follow?"

  "No. This piece of his shirt will identify him. Take it. Hide it! Whena man with a torn shirt, into which that piece fits, makes for thetelegraph office after this train has gone on, see that he is allowed tosend any telegrams he wants to! Only, have copies of every one of themwired to Captain King, care of the station-master, Delhi. Have youunderstood?"

  "Ha, sahib."

  "Grab him, and lock him up tight afterward--but not until he has senthis telegrams!'

  "Atcha, sahib."

  "Make yourself scarce, then!"

  Major Hyde was dressed, having performed that military evolution insomething less than record time.

  "Who was that you were talking to?" he demanded. But King continued tolook out the door.

  Hyde came and tapped on his shoulder impatiently, but King did not seemto understand until the native sergeant had quite vanished into theshadows.

  "Let me pass, will you!" Hyde demanded. "I'll have that thief caught ifthe train has to wait a week while they do it!"

  He pushed past, but he was scarcely on the step when the station-masterblew his whistle, and his colored minion waved a lantern back and forth.The engine shrieked forthwith of death and torment; carriage doorsslammed shut in staccato series; the heat relaxed as the enginemoved--loosened--let go--lifted at last, and a trainload of hotpassengers sighed thanks to an unresponsive sky as the train gainedspeed and wind crept in through the thermantidotes.

  Only through the broken thermantidote in King's compartment no wetair came. Hyde knelt on King's berth and wrestled with it like a cagedanimal, but with no result except that the sweat poured out all over himand he was more uncomfortable than before.

  "What are you looking at?" he demanded at last, sitting on King's berth.His head swam. He had to wait a few seconds before he could step acrossto his own side.

  "Only a knife," said King. He was standing under the dim gas lamp thathelped make the darkness more unbearable.

  "Not that robber's knife? Did he drop it?"

  "It's my knife," said King.

  "Strange time to stand staring at it, if it's yours! Didn't you ever seeit before?"

  King stowed the knife away in his bosom, and the major crossed to hisown side.

  "I'm thinking I'll know it again, at all events!" King answered, sittingdown. "Good night, sir."

  "Good night."

  Within ten minutes Hyde was asleep, snoring prodigiously. Then Kingpulled out the knife again and studied it for half an hour. The bladewas of bronze, with an edge hammered to the keenness of a razor. Thehilt was of nearly pure gold, in the form of a woman dancing.

  The whole thing was so exquisitely wrought that age had only softenedthe lines, without in the least impairing them. It looked like one ofthose Grecian toys with which Roman women of Nero's day stabbed theirlovers. But that was not why he began to whistle very softly to himself.

  Presently he drew out the general's package of papers, with thephotograph on the top. He stood up, to hold both knife and papers closeto the light in the roof.

  It needed no great stretch of imagination to suggest a likeness betweenthe woman of the photograph and the other, of the golden knife-hilt.And nobody, looking at him then, would have dared suggest he lackedimagination.

  If the knife had not been so ancient they might have been portraits ofthe same woman, in the same disguise, taken at the same time.

  "She knew I had been chosen to work with her. The general sent her wordthat I am coming," he muttered to himself. "Man number one had a try forme, but I had him pinched too soon. There must have been a spy watchingat Peshawur, who wir
ed to Rawal-Pindi for this man to jump the train andgo on with the job. She must have had him planted at Rawal-Pindi in caseof accidents. She seems thorough! Why should she give the man a knifewith her own portrait on it? Is she queen of a secret society? Well--weshall see!"

  He sat down on his berth again and sighed, not discontentedly. Thenhe lit one of his great black cigars and blew rings for five or sixminutes. Then he lay back with his head on the pillow, and before fiveminutes more had gone he was asleep, with the cold cigar still clutchedbetween his fingers.

  He looked as interesting in his sleep as when awake. His mobile face inrepose looked Roman, for the sun had tanned his skin and his nose wasaquiline. In museums, where sculptured heads of Roman generals andemperors stand around the wall on pedestals, it would not be difficultto pick several that bore more than a faint resemblance to him. He hadbreadth and depth of forehead and a jowl that lent itself to smiles aswell as sternness, and a throat that expressed manly determination inevery molded line.

  He slept like a boy until dawn; and he and Hyde had scarcely exchangedanother dozen words when the train screamed next day into Delhi station.Then he saluted stiffly and was gone.

  "Young jackanapes!" Hyde muttered after him. "Lazy young devil! He oughtto be with his regiment, marching and setting a good example to his men!We'll have our work cut out to win this war, if there are many of hisstamp! And I'm afraid there are--I'm afraid so--far too many of 'em!Pity! Such a pity! If the right men were at the top the youngstersat the foot of the ladder would mind their P's and Q's. As it is, I'mafraid we shall get beaten in this show. Dear, oh, dear!"

  Being what he was, and consistent before all things, Major Hyde drewout his writing materials there and then and wrote a report againstAthelstan King, which he signed, addressed to headquarters and mailed atthe first opportunity. There some future historian may find it and drawfrom it unkind deductions on the morale of the British army.

  Chapter II