Gerrard lost himself in dreams. This miniature palace, sheltered within the fort walls, yet standing by itself in its own garden, remote from the rambling pile of buildings occupied by Partab Singh and his court, would make an ideal Residency. Not for a solitary man, of course, but the Resident at Agpur could well afford to marry. Gazing down into the inner courtyard he saw it in the light of a shrine for Honour. Honour walked up and down the flagged paths in her white gown, Honour sat on the broad stone margin of the fountain and raised serious eyes from her book at his approach--and her whole face lighted up with a flash of welcome to him, such a flash as he had caught in Lady Cinnamond's eyes when Sir Arthur returned unexpectedly from a distant expedition. What blissful evenings they would spend on that broad pillared verandah, Honour working and he reading to her, or both together reading, writing, talking, as Colonel and Mrs Antony were wont to do, two minds working as one, so quickly and naturally did each supply the deficiencies of the other.

He pulled himself up sharply. Not so very many miles away was another man dreaming similar dreams--and yet not similar, since the charms of history and poetry and romance held no place in them. Gerrard himself might have pleaded guilty to the charge of allowing no opening for the cultivation of the good works which meant so much to Honour, but he would probably have defended himself with the not uncommon maxim of his day that looking after a husband was sufficient good works for any woman. But Bob Charteris--who was utterly incapable of appreciating the real Honour, who had no idea of her absolute uniqueness, and might have fallen in love with any other woman with equal satisfaction to himself! Bob--who could make a joke of his love and even laugh at his lady, who would probably not mind smoking while he thought about her!

(In those days the smoker was largely considered as a pariah, if not an enemy of the human race. Gerrard himself smoked, but he was properly conscious that it was a weakness, and not an amiable one, and nothing would have induced him to set himself to think of Honour with a cheroot in his mouth.) It was Bob's rivalry that had driven him to put his fortune to the touch by proposing to Honour when patience would better have served his turn, and it was Bob to whose pleasure, by his own suggestion, he must defer before speaking to her again, were he ten times Resident at Agpur. Worst of all, it was Bob who was only too likely to win her in the end, and not undeservedly, Gerrard knew his friend's good points as few others did, and he did not deceive himself as to his chances of success. At this point he broke off his musings abruptly, and went to bed. Bob was not only superfluous, but a positive nuisance.

CHAPTER VII.

ON GUARD.

A haunting, half-superst.i.tious dread beset Gerrard as he dressed the next morning, the presentiment that he would hear that Partab Singh had died in the night. After the determination the old man had shown in laying his plans, and the earnestness with which he had impressed them upon the Englishman, it would be eminently suitable dramatically, if absolutely fatal practically, that he should die before the steps could be taken to carry them out. But the foreboding proved to be baseless, and during the next few days Gerrard spent a good deal of time in close converse with the Rajah. The first step to be taken was undoubtedly to secure the approval of Colonel Antony, without whose active sympathy the great scheme would not have a chance of success. In his anxiety to a.s.sure the succession to his favourite child, Partab Singh had seriously compromised the jealously guarded independence of his state by his advances to the English as represented by Gerrard, and there could be no doubt that Granthis and Mohammedans would unite in resenting this betrayal. Hence, when the day of reckoning came, it was all-important to have not only the moral, but the physical support of the British secured, and it would be all the better if the agreement could be announced as an accomplished fact before the need arose to put it in practice. The Rajah had indeed confided his wishes to his most trusted councillors, but it was highly probable that in case of a popular rising these worthy gentlemen would find it more convenient, as it would certainly be safer, to forget the exact nature of the charge committed to them.

Adhering to his opinion that a personal interview between the Rajah and the Resident would be the surest way of enlisting Colonel Antony's sympathy for Kharrak Singh and his future, Gerrard now bent his efforts towards bringing this about. The disputed boundary between Agpur and Darwan afforded an excellent excuse for the Rajah to journey to his frontier and meet Charteris, who would hold the brief for Darwan, and if it could be so arranged that Colonel Antony should accidentally be in the neighbourhood, the thing would be done. Gerrard wrote urging his chief's presence with all the earnestness he could command, suggesting that if he could not come himself, he should depute his brother James to represent him. He then turned to the task of inducing Partab Singh to undertake the journey--a difficult endeavour, since he could not promise the desired interview at the end of it. A change had come over the Rajah since the evening when he had bestowed his confidence, and there was no doubt that he was failing. It seemed as though his vigour of body and mind had given way when he had once entrusted the care of his son to other hands, for Gerrard could distinctly trace the progress of decay in the short time he had known him, and the exertion of planning a move on such a large scale appeared to be too much for his strength. Since it was not to be supposed that this was a mere flying visit to the frontier, undertaken for a purpose, it must have all the characteristics of a royal progress, court, zenana, troops, elephants and guns, all accompanying their lord. The trusted councillors looked unutterable things at all Gerrard's suggestions, and military and civil officials combined to defeat all his arrangements by means of the dead weight of their inertia. The Rajah was willing to go, provided he had not to take any trouble, but he criticised freely all the points submitted to him, indicating how much simpler and less laborious it would have been if Gerrard had accepted his offers without insisting on referring things to his superiors. However, by dint of patience and resolution, the long train of men and baggage-animals was got under way at last, and with thankfulness Gerrard left the minarets of Agpur behind him. It was arranged that during the first day's journey, which was a very short one, he and his men should march with the Rajah's cavalcade, that he might notice anything neglected or forgotten and set it right, but that afterwards he should press on by forced marches, so as to meet Colonel Antony's returning couriers on the Darwan frontier, and if the tenor of the letters they bore should be disappointing, make a flying journey to Ranjitgarh itself, and urge his views upon the Resident. That this might be necessary he gathered from the latest instructions he had received--written, as he guessed, just before the arrival of his detailed report, and containing stringent warnings against committing the British Government on his own responsibility to any particular plan in dealing with Agpur.

The evening of the first day's march Gerrard spent with Partab Singh in his private audience-tent, laying plans which were to provide against the occurrence of all possible contingencies during his absence. At the close of the interview he took leave of the Rajah, whom he would only see from a distance as he rode away on the morrow, and received his urgent injunctions to let nothing delay his return, whether his mission was successful or not.

"For there is no one I can trust save you, O my friend," said the old man. "All these men, who flew to do my bidding when my eye was clear and my sword keen, are beginning to make plans for their own advantage, thinking that I cannot detect their guile. In your hands I can leave my son in confidence, but as for them, they would follow the banner of that other to-morrow if he offered them larger bribes."

Gerrard a.s.sured him that he would return as soon as he was allowed, and went back to his own tents, wondering whether he was doing well in leaving things to take care of themselves, even for so important an errand. Orders for an early start had already been issued, and when he wished to note down one or two things that had occurred during the day, his canteen served for a seat and a camel-trunk set on end for a table, Munshi Somwar Mal lending ink and a reed pen. Sleep seemed inclined to forsake the young man that night when at length he lay on his bed before the tent-door, the quarrelling round the camp-fires and the fidgeting of the horses waking him whenever he dropped into a doze. At last he succeeded in falling asleep, only to wake in a cold perspiration, and to find himself standing up and hastily girding on sword and revolver. What had awakened him he could not imagine, but he had a vague impression of a cry or wail of some sort. It was not repeated, and he unbuckled his belts and lay down again, mentally anathematizing the perfume mingled with the Rajah's tobacco, which must have given him nightmare. But when he woke again, in the grey light of early dawn, the air was full of the sound of wailing, and his Granthi officers and chief servants were gathered round his bed, respectfully waiting for his eyes to open.

"Hillo, I must have overslept!" he cried. "Get the men into order of march, Badan Hazari. I shall be dressed in no time."

"Do the orders of the Presence for the early start hold good?" asked the Granthi officer significantly.

"Why not? What in the world is that noise?"

"It is the wailing of the women in the Rajah's camp, sahib. His Highness was found dead by his attendants in the night."

"What! murdered?"

"They say there are no marks of violence, sahib. Hearing no sound from the tent of audience after your honour had left, the servants ventured to peep in, and found his Highness stretched upon the cushions, dead."

"The Protector of the Poor is earnestly entreated to shed the light of his countenance upon the all-prevailing darkness in the camp," said a white-bearded old man, whom Gerrard knew to be the Rani's scribe. He rose hastily.

"I will be there immediately. The start is postponed for the present, Badan Hazari, but strike the tents ready for marching, and get ready a messenger at once to go to Darwan."

In the intervals of dressing he scribbled a hasty note to Charteris, telling him what had happened, and that he should probably return to the city at once, urging him also to forward the news immediately to Ranjitgarh, and ask for definite instructions. Having seen this despatched, he mounted and rode over to the Rajah's camp, which was in a state of the wildest confusion. The bodyguard, the only portion of the troops that could be trusted, were mounting guard round the zenana enclosure, into which the corpse of the Rajah had been carried, the Rani having, as Gerrard learned, at once sent out her jewellery to be divided among them, and thus secured their fidelity for the time. The rest of the soldiers, with the servants and transport-drivers, had evidently been holding high carnival outside the ring of steel. In the few hours which had elapsed since the ghastly discovery, the brocades and kincob of the audience-tents had been torn down and distributed, the cushions deprived of their rich covers, and the very _gaddi_ on which the Rajah's body had been found stripped of its damask. Even the carpets were gone from the floors, and the cotton ground-cloths torn in every direction. Gerrard's first task was the restoration of some measure of order. His boldness in taking command of the situation attracted the soldiers towards him, and he made a definite bid for their allegiance by the promise of large rewards to be distributed by Rajah Kharrak Singh at Agpur. Strict orders were issued against further plundering, and every man who had obtained nothing, or less than he expected, became a detective ready to hunt down his more fortunate comrade and secure the return of the spoils. Partab Singh's councillors and courtiers began to appear out of various hiding-places, and all expressed a most touching anxiety to be honoured with any commands from Gerrard. But before he had time to listen to them, the circle of soldiers round the zenana tents opened, and a little procession came out. Between the Rani's scribe and her spiritual adviser, a large Brahmin, came Kharrak Singh, with the royal umbrella held over his head, and a guard of the Rani's own Rajput servants following him. Marching up to Gerrard as he stood among the crowd of eager suitors in the devastated audience-tent, the boy took off his turban and laid it at his feet.

"The widow of Rajah Partab Singh kisses the footprints of Jirad Sahib, and entreats that she and her son may sit down under his shadow," he said perfunctorily, evidently repeating what had been taught him.

"Jirad Sahib knows that I am Rajah now? He will make them give me a real sword, will he not?"

"Presently. At Agpur," said Gerrard hastily. Stooping, he took the child into his arms, and a gasp of satisfaction broke from the onlookers. Kharrak Singh's cause was to have the support of the English, as represented by this agent of Colonel Antony's.

Still holding the boy by the hand, Gerrard gave orders for an immediate return to Agpur, where the body of the Rajah might be burnt with due solemnity. Colonel Antony's warning against involving the British Government in responsibility came back to him with a touch of irony.

This responsibility had thrust itself upon him, and the return to Agpur would involve further responsibility, in that he must proceed to secure the allegiance of the troops by the means prescribed by Partab Singh, and they would place themselves at the command of the man who paid them. Whether he was allowed to continue in the position or not, he was undoubtedly acting as Regent of Agpur for the present.

One man after another was dismissed to his duties, and retired with salaams, until practically only the old councillors were left. There was a guilty and subdued air of expectancy about some of them, a tendency to start at any sudden sound and look round suspiciously, which made Gerrard wonder what they were waiting for. But when the last soldier had stridden clanking out of the tent, a distant thudding became audible, like the approach of a body of horse. Significant glances pa.s.sed between the men Gerrard had noticed, to be succeeded by an expression of utter guilelessness when they saw that they were observed, while those who were not in the secret began to show signs of fear. In the general disorder no guards had been posted on the outskirts of the camp, and the approaching cavalcade swept gorgeously up the broad avenue leading to the Rajah's tent, riding down the few who sought to challenge their pa.s.sage. Gerrard turned hastily to the scribe and the Brahmin.

"Take the boy back to the zenana at once, and see that no one pa.s.ses the guards, either going in or coming out, save by orders from me. Who is this that comes?" he demanded, facing round upon the councillors, as Kharrak Singh was hurried away.

"Who should it be but the eldest son of our lord, sahib?" was the answer, and as the old men spoke, Sher Singh flung himself from his reeking horse at the door of the tent and entered.

"Where is my lord and father?" he cried. "Bring me to him, that I may embrace his feet, and receive the forgiveness and the favour he has graciously promised me."

"Alas, Kunwar-ji!" chorused the councillors, all trying to push one another forward to tell the news. Sher Singh glanced at them contemptuously.

"Fools, will you try to keep me from my father now that he has sent for me? Because he has not made his beneficent intentions known to you, will you deny them? Let him be told that I am here, and you will learn what is his will."

"Prince, your venerable father pa.s.sed away in the night," said Gerrard laconically. The exact bearing of this new arrival upon the situation he could not determine, but he was very certain that it behoved him to walk warily. Sher Singh turned upon him a magnificent glance of anger and disdain.

"This is well done--very well done!" he exclaimed, while the councillors cowered before the meaning accents like reeds before a blast. "My lord and father proclaims his gracious willingness to lay the hand of forgiveness upon the brow of penitence, and in the few short hours before the feet of haste can carry me to the spot, he dies, and his intentions are unfulfilled."

"Were his intentions known to any besides yourself, Prince?" asked Gerrard, and noted that the eyes of the councillors sought Sher Singh's face, as though to inquire what he wished them to say. But he disregarded them.

"I understand that Jirad Sahib has enjoyed the honour of the Rajah's confidence of late, to the neglect of his tried and trusted councillors. Is it possible that nothing was said to him of my father's wishes?"

"They were communicated to me in great detail, but you, Prince, bore no part in them whatever." Gerrard weighed his words carefully, feeling that the time had come to throw down the gauntlet.

Sher Singh turned slowly to the councillors, and Gerrard noticed for the first time that the armed men who had accompanied him were crowding at the entrance of the tent. "I call you all to witness," said the Prince deliberately, "that this stranger, this encroaching Feringhee, who has supplanted my father's natural councillors in his confidence, desires now to supplant me also in my rights. Brothers, friends, when he thought he had attained the height of his evil desires, and learned too late that he had only opened the path for me, what did he do? My father made his final decision last night, when he despatched to me with a gracious message of favour the runner who had carried my humble pet.i.tion. Before I can arrive, before he can announce his determination to the world, he dies. Who stands to profit by his death?"

Before the last words were out of Sher Singh's mouth, the tent was filled with the clash of weapons. The armed men in the entrance sprang forward at Gerrard, who believed that his last moment had come. But to his amazement a ring of bucklers encompa.s.sed him. The six Rajputs had remained when Kharrak Singh was taken away, and they stepped before him with ready swords. Baulked of the easy prey they had expected, Sher Singh's men hesitated, and the councillors flung themselves into the breach, weeping, clutching at the Prince's coat, urging in tremulous voices the impolicy of slaying a British envoy and thus bringing destruction upon Agpur. Sher Singh allowed himself to be turned from his immediate purpose.

"Let the Feringhee live for the present," he said, waving his followers back. "Speak, O Jirad Sahib, you who hide behind the servants of a woman, and tell me who stood to profit by my father's death?"

"You!" returned Gerrard promptly. "You, who have trumped up this story of a reconciliation, and come here to a.s.sert it now that he cannot contradict you. You, of whom your father spoke to me with aversion and absolute lack of forgiveness only last night. Tell me," he turned to the councillors, "when did this messenger of Kunwar Sher Singh's arrive--before my visit to his Highness, or after I had left him? You, O Sarfaraz Khan, as keeper of his Highness's head, must know all who entered or left his presence. When was it?"

The old Mohammedan captain of the guard gazed miserably from Gerrard to Sher Singh and back again, and finally faltered out that to the best of his recollection it was before the Sahib's visit.

"Then the pet.i.tion had been rejected before I arrived, and the messenger despatched bearing the Rajah's refusal to see his son's face," said Gerrard.

"The man lies. It was after," burst forth Sher Singh. "Here is Sada Sukhi, the king's friend, who can testify it."

"Then," said Gerrard calmly, "the messenger murdered the Rajah, since both my guards and his own can testify that he bade me farewell in good health at the door of this very tent, and did me the honour to admire my horse."

"Fool! does a man murder the one who has just promised to give him all he desires?" cried Sher Singh.

"No, but he does sometimes murder the one who has refused it. And so Prince Sher Singh was his own messenger?"

"It is a lie--I swear it!" He appealed frantically to the bystanders.

"I was at Adamkot, the fortress of my father-in-law, and rode forth on the very heels of my messenger, so eager was I to receive my father's answer. Then when the gracious response arrived--the messenger meeting me on the way--as I could set no bounds to my joy, even so was it with my speed, and I rode hither at a pace that was like to kill my horse and the horses of those that were with me."

Gerrard dismissed the explanation with a wave of the hand, but old Sada Sukhi, who had succeeded Dwarika Nath as Diwan, and was by common consent the wiliest man in Agpur, cringed humbly forward.

"I will take it upon me to speak, worthless as I am, in the presence of these great ones," he murmured. "Surely there is wrong in speaking of murder, since no sign of any such horror has been found. But if our lord Partab Singh Rajah died in the course of nature, then Kunwar Sher Singh has been unjustly accused by Jirad Sahib, and Jirad Sahib by Sher Singh. Is this a moment to bandy accusations that cannot be maintained, when our lord's body lies unburnt, and all our minds should be devoted to mourning him and paying fitting reverence to his obsequies?"

"Truly do they call thee wise, old man!" said Sher Singh heartily. "My sorrow comes upon me as a flood at thy words, and I desire only to mourn my beloved father."

"But wait," said Gerrard. "The Prince knows as well as I do, and you also, Diwan-ji, how much depends upon the funeral ceremony. It was the will of Partab Singh Rajah that his son Kharrak Singh should set light to the pyre as chief mourner, and as his successor on the _gaddi_."