"I've a good mind to have him tracked and convicted. What do you say, Judge?" he asked, turning to Mr. Goldring, who had also arrived to ask after the Collector.

"If anybody except Worsley was in question I'd have no hesitation in setting everything in train for a capture, but you know, Samptor, what Worsley is! He'll simply set himself to obstruct justice in this case.

He'd hate the publicity of the affair," added the Judge, his blue eyes full of perplexity.

"Well, after all, the wretch is jolly well punished," returned the Jailer. "He's lost his fine soft berth and 'master's favour,' and all the rest of it. But I don't believe we've got to the bottom of this affair yet. Moideen didn't want to put an end to his master, be you sure of that!"

"No, the doctor thinks it was an accident," broke in Mark, "an overdose of the poison which acted with more deadly effect than was intended.

Probably he was frantic when he saw what he had done. There may be a clue."

Mark proceeded to narrate his seeing of Moideen with the man whom the Collector seemed to have no doubt was the Tahsildar of Lerode.

"A clue indeed!" exclaimed Samptor, much interested. "Mahomet Usman no doubt desired for reasons of his own to have the Collector's visit postponed for a few days. That's all--though a valuable life was to be risked to attain that end. We're not unfamiliar with such methods, are we, Judge?"

"Unfortunately not," responded Mr. Goldring, shaking his head.

"Something wrong with his accounts," suggested Mark. "That's the conclusion I've come to. If the Collector will give me permission, as soon as he's able to be left, I'll hurry off to Lerode and look into the matter. We must get to the bottom of Mahomet Usman's tricks. Who knows what frauds may have been going on!"

"Let me tell you, you'll find Mahomet Usman's books in perfect order,"

returned Samptor. "He only wanted the extra day or two to accomplish that. They'll not be a pie wrong! It was to prevent any such discovery, don't you see, that our poor Collector has nearly been sacrificed. By all means, Cheveril, go to Lerode, but the wily Mussulman has got the start of you. His revenue collection will be all square by to-morrow or the next day. No doubt Moideen had his orders to keep the Collector quiet till then. That comes of letting those natives creep so close!

Moideen was a clever dog, made himself indispensable to his master's comfort. Poor Worsley, pity his wife isn't of the sort to be at his side with the sharp eyes of my wife!"

Events turned out as Mr. Samptor predicted. Not the most searching examination of Mahomet Usman's books disclosed the slightest defalcation, though Mark felt convinced that the _Tahsildar_ was aware that the new a.s.sistant was watching for his halting, and also knew the reason why. As to finding any explanation of his conspiracy with the absconding Moideen, Mark was completely baulked.

The Collector had been very irritable and impatient when his health admitted of his being told the cause of his illness, and the certain proof which Moideen had given of his guilt by his flight only intensified his annoyance. He seemed indeed aggrieved by the whole incident and desirous of ignoring it.

Mark felt a new sense of anxiety and a need for greater daily vigilance in the combination of circ.u.mstances in which he was now placed. The relations of the Hindus with the Mahomedans in the town were increasingly unsatisfactory, even threatening; though there remained a difference of opinion as to who was the aggressive party. Dr. Campbell continued to hold a brief for the Hindus, as indeed did all the members of the little community except the Collector. Moideen had been replaced by a Mahomedan from Madras bearing a good certificate from his former master, and who seemed a much less complex character than the sinister Moideen.

Perhaps there was no one concerned in the situation who took a graver view of the possibilities of a disturbance among the seething ma.s.ses of the native town than did the young a.s.sistant-Collector, who went about his daily work with a watchful air and an anxious heart.

CHAPTER XXIX.

On the morning of the third day after her visit to Mr. Morpeth, as Hester sat with Mrs. Fellowes at early tea in the verandah at Royapooram, a chit was handed to her and the butler announced that her carriage was waiting. The note was from her husband telling her of his arrival at Clive's Road.

"Do, my darling Hester, hurry to me at once," it ran. "I am pining to hold you in my arms. I have only just arrived, but this horrid south wind is making a wreck of me already. I feel so nervous I can hardly hold a pen."

Having shared her news with her hostess, Hester rose to make hasty preparations for her departure.

"This is a blow to me," said Mrs. Fellowes. "I hoped at least to keep you a week longer with us. Your husband has evidently changed his plans."

"He has seemingly. But why should this wind be troubling him? I was just thinking how refreshing it was."

"Ah, but your husband is right there. This south wind is an enemy we dread, it is baleful in its effects, I a.s.sure you. When it first blows on one it does seem refreshing, but the very next moment one begins to feel its bad influence. It is like a gust of hot damp air blown over marshes, penetrating to one's joints and marrows."

"Alfred evidently resents it," returned Hester. "I fear it will blow away all the good effects of his change. I wonder what can have made him hurry back so soon," she added, with a sigh she repressed at once and turned to her friend, saying, "How can I thank you for all that has made this time so pleasant to me? I shall never forget these days."

The tears sprang to her eyes as she clasped her friend's hand. "I feel as if I were leaving Paradise for the thorns and thistles of the wilderness," she murmured; and in this remark she laid bare more of her heart than she had ever done, even to her trusted friend, who now looked at her with keen concern.

"But I mustn't put it like that," she added. "Poor Alfred needs me. I must go back strong and cheerful!"

Presently Mrs. Fellowes stood in the verandah with a sorrowful face watching her departing guest.

"You don't mean to say the fellow has come back already like a bad shilling and requisitioned that wife of his a whole week earlier than we reckoned on!" exclaimed the colonel with vexation, when he returned from his morning's work and heard of Hester's sudden summons to Clive's Road.

"That is a blow! Why, she should have sent back the landau empty and told him he still owed her a week's release from his presence!"

"Though you say that, Joe, you know it would not be like the faithful wife she is to take things into her own hands like that," returned his wife. "But somehow my heart misgives me about her. I feel as if she were going down into a valley of suffering. But she never complains, and we must not probe her secret sorrow."

Meanwhile the pair of swift Walers had borne their mistress to her destination.

"How ill you look, Alfred!" she exclaimed, when her husband met her on the verandah steps. "What is the matter? Had you a bad pa.s.sage? Surely the south wind can't affect you so much when you've only just arrived!"

"That's all you know, Hester! It's made a perfect wreck of me already.

The fact is I feel more miserable than ever I did in my life," said Rayner with a groan, and threw himself on to a lounging chair, welcoming the baleful wind as the excuse of his haggard looks, of which he was fully conscious.

The revelation made to him at the Shrine of Kali seemed still to scorch his nature like a flame, and his return to familiar scenes appeared only to intensify his misery. He scanned his wife's face anxiously to see whether by any unlucky chance she might already be in possession of the hateful secret; but he perceived nothing except sweet kindness in her demeanour, and at once began to think how foolish he had been to let the matter gnaw his heart as he had been doing. The whole story was probably trumped up by Truelove Brothers, he tried to persuade himself with a juggler-like effort at self-deception. More than likely the Eurasian clerk was the firm's tool in a conspiracy. Alternating hopes and fears still haunted him, however, as he listened to his wife's soothing talk.

At length, feeling so comforted by it, he decided to absent himself from the High Court and spend the whole day in her society. Then he changed his mind, and, to Hester's surprise, his mail-phaeton instead of his office bandy was hastily ordered after breakfast. He drove off, saying he would return early and have a drive with his wife when the south wind had abated.

Hester was already experiencing the languor that accompanied the gusty wind she had at first welcomed as a friend. She tried to occupy herself with various household duties which claimed her attention after her absence. With her ayah's help she set about arranging all her possessions, taking her books and ornaments from their retreat, but was dismayed to find that the wind was bringing in its train, not only damp, but also clouds of dust. She had recourse to closing the gla.s.s doors of the drawing-room, which had always stood open since her arrival in the tropical clime, before she felt safe to spread out her treasures. She gave Mr. Morpeth's gift an honoured place among them, smiling as she laid a packet of her mother's letters in the precious casket.

When the time came for her husband's return she was surprised to see him drive up in a hired bandy instead of the mail-phaeton.

"What have you done with your phaeton?" she asked.

"You may well ask, Hester, but wait till I've taken refuge from the hurricane behind the gla.s.s doors, which I see you've been sensible enough to have closed, and I'll tell you," he said cheerfully; and linking his arm in hers, he led her to one of the sofas in the drawing-room.

"Well, what do you think I've done with my fine phaeton? Been and gone and sold it, horses, harness and all! I was going to add the syce, for he was also thrown in! I met a Mahomedan who was so enamoured of the whole turn-out that I concluded the bargain there and then!"

Hester, not being of an inquisitive turn of mind, did not ask the name of the phaeton's purchaser, and her husband preferred to withhold it.

The transaction was the result of an interview with Zynool Sahib. He had appeared that morning at the High Court in an agitated state and begged to see La'yer Rayner, who had invited him to accompany him to Waller's Stables, where he had left the phaeton for some small repair. They could have a freer talk driving, Mr. Rayner had decided, than in the precincts of the High Court.

"Things are going from the bad to the worst at Puranapore," said Zynool, shaking his head dolefully. "Nothing but insults from these pigs of Hindus, backed up by that great enemee of mine, Doctor Campbell. Whatt's the good to us of the Government order stopping tom-toms and conchs at certain hours onlee. By Allah, our mosque is open day and night for prayer. These swinish sounds must not pa.s.s its door. We must stop them, La'yer Rayner," he wound up, with a significant glance at his companion.

"Yes, Zynool, that bit by the river, so near the mosque too, would make a fine site for a garden-house for you, such as you want. You desire an order to move the Hindu burning place from there, don't you?"

"That is so," returned the Mahomedan brightening. "You're a clever one, La'yer Rayner!"

"Wouldn't it be best to get up a little thunderstorm? It would clear the atmosphere if you could combine and give it hot to these troublesome Hindus. Pack the town beforehand with your people from outlying villages, and the fire won't need much fanning to burst into a flame.

But take care you only mine underground. Complicity found might mean the Andaman Islands!"

Zynool's fat body shivered.

"By the holy Prophet there is need for a fight! They come when we are at our prayers, sounding and bellowing those horrible conchs fit to break the drums of our ears."

"The Mohurram will soon be on," said Mr. Rayner. "There's a chance for you! When you're pa.s.sing in one of your processions along the streets arrange to go for some howling crowd that may be annoying you, and the fat will be in the fire! May I be there to see, Zynool Sahib! You'll slay many a craven wretch with that brawny arm of yours."

The Mahomedan laughed complacently as he spat on the floor of the bandy.