Dyan sat down near a small table, and took his head between his hands.

"There is--so much wrong," he said, looking steadily up at Roy. "I am feeling--like a man who wakes too suddenly after much sleepwalking."

"Since when?" asked Roy, keeping himself in hand. "What's jerked you awake? D'you know?"

"There have been many jerks. Seeing you; Aruna's offering; this news of the War; and something ... you mentioned last time."

"What was that ... Tara?" Roy lunged straight to the middle of the wound.

Dyan started. "But--how----! I never said...." he stammered, visibly shaken.

"It didn't need saying. Aruna told me--the fact; and my own wits told me the rest. You're not honestly keen--are you?--to shorten the arm of the British Raj and plunge India into chaos?"

"No--no." A very different Dyan, this, to the one who had poured out stock phrases like water only a week ago.

"Isn't bitterness--about Tara, at the back of it! Face that straight.

And--if it's true, say so without false shame."

Dyan was silent a long while, staring into the fire. "Very strange. I had no idea," he said at last. The words came slowly, as if he were thinking aloud. "I was angry--miserable; hating you all; even--very nearly--_her_. Then came the War; and I thought--now our countries will become like one. I will win her by some brave action--she who is the spirit of courage. From France, after all that praise of Indians in the papers, I wrote again. No use. After that, I hoped by some brave action, I might be killed. Instead, through stupid carelessness, I am only maimed--as you see. I was foolishly angry when Indian troops were sent away from France: and my heart became hard like a nut."--He had emerged from his dream now and was frankly addressing Roy----"I knew, if I went home, they would insist I should marry. Quite natural. But for me--not thinkable. Yet I _must_ go back to India. And there, in Bombay, I heard Chandranath speak. He was just back from deportation; and to me his words were like leaping flames. All the fire of my pa.s.sion--choked up in me--could flow freely in service of the Mother. I became intoxicated with the creed of my new comrades: there is neither truth nor untruth, right nor wrong; there is only the Mother. I was filled with the joy of dedication and unquestioning surrender. It gave me visions like opium dreams. Both kinds of opium I have taken freely,--while walking in my sleep. I was ready for taking life; any desperate deed. Instead--Tcha! I have to take money, like a common dacoit, because police must be bribed, soldiers tempted, meetings multiplied...."

"It takes more than the blood of white goats to oil the wheels of your chariot," said Roy, very quiet, but rather grim. "And he's not the man to do his own dirty work--eh?"

"No. He is only very clever to dress it up in fine arguments. All money is the Mother's. Only they are thieves who selfishly hide it in banks and safes. Those who release it for her use are deliverers ..." he broke off with a harsh laugh. "In spite of education, we Indians are too easily played upon, Roy. If you had not spoken--of her, I might have swallowed--even that. Thieving--bah! Killing is man's work. There is sanction in the Gita----"

"Sanction be d.a.m.ned!" Roy cut in sharply. "You might as well say Shakespeare sanctioned theft because he wrote, 'Who steals my purse steals trash!' The only sanction worth anything is inside you. And you didn't seem to find it there. But let's get at the point. Did you refuse?"

"No. Only--for the first time, I demurred; and because the need is urgent, he became very violent--in language. It was almost a quarrel."

"Clear proof you scored! Did you mention--Aruna?"

Dyan shook his head. "If _I_ become violent, it is not only language----"

"No. You're a _man_. And now you're awake again, I can tell you things--but I can't stay all night."

"No. He is coming back. Only gone to Cantonments--on business."

"What sort of business?"

Dyan chewed his lip and looked uncomfortable.

"Never mind, old chap. I can see a church by daylight! He's getting at the troops. Spreading lies about the Armistice. And after that----?"

"He is returning--about midnight, hoping to find me in a more reasonable mind----"

"And by Jove we won't disappoint him!" cried Roy, who had seen his G.o.d-given chance. Springing up he gripped Dyan by the shoulder. "Your reasonable mind will take the form of scooting back with me, _jut put_;[17] and we can slip out of Delhi by the night mail. Time's precious. So hurry up."

But Dyan did not stir. He sat there looking so plainly staggered that Roy burst out laughing.

"You're not half awake yet. You've messed about so long with men who merely 'agitate' and 'inaugurate,' that you've forgotten the kind who act first and talk afterwards. I give you ten minutes to scribble a tender farewell. Then--we make tracks. It's all I came here for--if you want to know. And I take it you're willing?"

Dyan sighed. "I am willing enough. But--there are many complications.

You do not know. They are organising big trouble over the Rowlatt Bill--and other things. I have not much secret information, or my life would probably not be worth a pin. But it is all one complicated network, and there are too easy ways in India for social and spiritual boycott----"

He enlarged a little; quoted cases that filled Roy with surprise and indignation, but no way shook his resolve.

"We needn't go straight to Jaipur. Quite good fun to knock round a bit.

Throw him off the scent, till he's got over the shock. We can wire our news; Aruna will be too happy to fret over a little delay. And you won't be ostracised among your own people. They want you. They want your help.

Grandfather does. The best _I_ could do was to run you to earth--open your eyes----"

"And by Indra you've _done_ it, Roy."

"You'll come then?"

"Yes, I'll come--and d.a.m.n the consequences!"

The Dyan of Oxford days was visibly emerging now: a veritable awakening; the strained look gone from his face.

It was Roy's 'good minute': and in the breathless rush that followed, he swept Dyan along with him--unresisting, exalted, amazed----

The farewell letter was written; and Dyan's few belongings stowed into a basket-box. Then they hurried down, through the dark courtyard into the darker tunnel; and Roy felt unashamedly glad not to be alone. His feet would hurry, in spite of him; and that kept him a few paces ahead.

Pa.s.sing a dark alcove, he swerved instinctively--and hoped to goodness Dyan had not seen.

Just before reaching the next one he tripped over something--taut string or wire stretched across the pa.s.sage. It should have sent him headlong had he been less agile. As it was, he stumbled, cursed and kept his feet.

"'Ware man-trap!" he called back to Dyan, under his breath.

Next instant, from the alcove, a shot rang out: and it was Dyan who cursed; for the bullet had grazed his arm.

They both ran now; and made no bones about it. Roy's sensations reminded him vividly of the night he and Lance fled from the Turks.

"We seem to have b.u.t.ted in and spoilt somebody's little game!" he remarked, as they turned into a wider street and slackened speed. "How's your arm?"

"Nothing. A mere scratch." Dyan's tone was graver. "But that's most unusual. I can't make it out----"

"You're well quit of it all, anyhow," said Roy, and slipped a hand through his arm.

Not till they were settling down for a few hours' sleep in the night mail, did it dawn on Roy that the little game might possibly have been connected with himself. Chandranath had seen him in that dress before.

He had just come very near quarrelling with Dyan. If he suspected Roy's ident.i.ty, he would suspect his influence....

He frankly spoke his thought to Dyan; and found it had occurred to him already. "Not himself, of course," he added. "The gentleman is not partial to firearms! But suspecting--he might have arranged; hoping to catch you coming back--the swine! Naturally after this, he will go further than suspecting!"

"He can go to the devil--and welcome; now I've collared _you_!" said Roy;--and slept soundly upon that satisfying achievement, through all the rattle and clatter of the express.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 17: At once.]