Then you must serve the English Queen. She has sent me here to punish the Maharajah for killing the padre-sahib. You must help me.'

'The Maharajah DID NOT kill ee-Wobbis,' cried Sunni excitedly. 'I have already once said that. The Maharajah he LIKE ee-Wobbis. I am English, but the Maharajah is my father and my mother. I cannot speak against the Maharajah, burra sahib.'

There came a light into the Colonel's eyes which was not kindled by anger. He found himself liking this slip of a ragged urchin with fair hair, who defied him--liking him tremendously. But the crisis was grave; he could not sacrifice his men to a child's scruple; he could not let himself be defied. He took out his watch, and made his face hard.

'Then,' said he coldly, 'you are either the Maharajah's deserter or his spy. If you have deserted, I am disposed to send you back to him, since you are of no use to us. If you are his spy, it is my duty to have you shot. I will give you five minutes to save your skin in.'

'But--but you are my COUNTRYMAN, burra sahib!' There was a sob in his voice.

The only possible answer to that was a hug, so it went unanswered.

Colonel Starr set himself to think of his Midlanders.

Sunni lifted his blue eyes entreatingly to the Colonel's face, but he had turned it away. He was watching a little brown lizard sunning itself outside the tent door, and wondering how long he could keep his disciplinary expression. You could hear nothing in the tent but the ticking of the watch. Sunni looked down at the lizard too, and so the minutes pa.s.sed.

Three of them pa.s.sed. Colonel Starr found himself hoping even more that the boy should stand firm than that he should speak. Colonel Starr began to say softly within himself, 'I am a brute.' The fifth minute was up. 'Will you speak?' asked the Colonel.

'Burra sahib, no,' said Sunni.

At that instant Lieutenant Pink galloped up to the door of the tent.

'They've come to their senses at last, sir. Six mounted men have just left the north gate, signalling for a parley.'

The Colonel jumped to his feet and gave half a dozen orders without stopping. The last one was to Sunni. 'Stay here,' he said; 'you shall soon go back to your own country.'

The Chitan hors.e.m.e.n had ridden out to announce the coming of the Maharajah, so that the English officer might meet him half-way.

They gave the message gravely, and rode slowly back. Half an hour later there arose a great shouting and blowing of trumpets inside the walls, the royal gate was flung open, and the Maharajah appeared, swaying in a blaze of silk and jewels upon an enormous elephant with a painted trunk and trappings fringed in gold and silver. Trumpeters and the crimson flag of Chita went before him; Maun Rao and the other generals rode behind him; at his side sat his bard, his poet laureate, with glowing eyes, speaking constantly into his royal ear the glorious annals of his house. Colonel Starr and his little suite met this wonderful cavalcade a quarter of a mile from the city, and the Maharajah and the Colonel dismounted.

Whereupon the magnificent Rajput, in his diamond aigrettes and his silken swathings, and the broad shouldered British officer, in his Queen's red coat, solemnly kissed each other. They exchanged other politenesses, spoke of the health of the Viceroy and of his 'good friend' the Maharajah, and His Highness arranged a durbar to be held in his hall of audience at two that afternoon, when he would hear the desires of the British Raj.

Strangely enough, it occurred to n.o.body to wonder why the Maharajah had so suddenly changed his mind. To n.o.body, that is, except Sonny Sahib. He guessed the reason, and sitting all morning in a corner of the Colonel's tent, as he had been told, he thought about it very seriously. Once or twice he had to swallow a lump in his throat to help him to think. The Maharajah's reason was that he supposed that Sonny Sahib had told the English about Lalpore's ammunition; and that, under the circ.u.mstances, was enough to bring lumps into anybody's throat.

The Colonel was very busy, and took no notice of him, except to say that he should have some dinner. He heard talk of the Maharajah's visit and of the durbar, and he revolved that too. When the time came, Sunni had concluded that he also must go to the durbar. He said so to Colonel Starr.

'Nonsense!' said the Colonel. 'And yet,' he added reflectively, 'it might be useful to have you there. I daresay you will be safe enough. You are not afraid?'

Sunni said he was not afraid. So they all went, and the Maharajah, rising from his ivory chair, received them with much state and ceremony. He frowned when he saw Sunni, but said nothing. His Highness felt that he was not in a position to resent anything, and thought bitterly of Petroff Gortschakin.

The durbar proceeded. Formally, and according to strict precedence, each man spoke. With great amiability Colonel Starr presented the demands of the English Government; with greater amiability the Maharajah and his officers repelled them. But Colonel Starr was firm, and he had the unanswerable argument of three hundred well-armed men and two nine-pounders, which Maun Rao would have to meet with Petroff Gortschakin's cartridges. After duly and sadly reflecting upon this, the Maharajah concluded that he would give up ee-Wobbis's murderers--one of them at any rate--and let himself be arranged, at all events for the present. Afterwards he would say to Maun Rao that it was only for the present. He summoned all his politeness to his aid, and said in the end that such was his admiration for the English Lord Sahib in Calcutta, such his friendship and respect, that he would welcome any one who came to Lalpore in his name.

'Accompanied by a small force,' added Colonel Starr in the vernacular, and the Maharajah also added, while Maun Rao behind him ground his teeth, 'Accompanied by a small force.'

'One word more,' said the Maharajah, 'and the durbar is ended. The opium pledge will appear, and we will drink it with you. From the palm of your hand I will drink, and from the palm of my hand you shall drink; but the lips of the boy who comes with you shall not taste it. The Rajputs do not drink opium with their betrayers.'

Sunni heard, and his face grew crimson.

'Maharajah!' he shouted, 'I did not tell; I did not tell.'

The Maharajah shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

'He is not of our blood; why should he have kept silence?' said the old man.

'But he did keep silence,' said the Colonel, looking straight into the Chitan's sunken eyes. 'I asked him about your men and your ammunition. I commanded him, I threatened him. I give you my word of honour as a soldier that he would say nothing.'

The English in India are always believed. A cry went up from the other Chitans. Moti clapped his hands together, Maun Rao caught the boy up and kissed him.

'Then,' said the Maharajah slowly, 'I love you still, Sunni, and you shall drink the opium with the rest. Your son,' he added to Colonel Starr, 'will bring praise to his father.'

The Colonel smiled. 'I have no children,' said he. 'I wish he were indeed my son.'

'If he is not your son,' asked the Maharajah cunningly, 'why did you bring him to the durbar?'

'Because he wished to come--'

'To say that I did not tell,' said Sunni.

'Call the woman,' ordered His Highness.

She was in the crowd in the courtyard, waiting to see her old master pa.s.s again. She came in bent and shaking, with her head-covering over her face. She threw herself at Colonel Starr's feet, and kissed them.

'Captan Sahib!' she quavered, 'Captan Sahib! Mirbani do!'[11]

[11] 'Give mercy.'

There was absolute silence in the audience hall. A parrakeet flashed through it screaming. The shadows were creeping east over the marble floor; a little sun flamed out on the hilt of Maun Rao's sword. The Colonel stooped over the old woman and raised her up.

His face whitened as he looked at her.

'It's Tooni!' he said, hoa.r.s.ely. And then, in a changed voice, unconscious of the time and place, 'Tooni, what happened to the memsahib?' he asked.

The ayah burst into an incoherent torrent of words and tears. The memsahib was very, very ill, she said. There were not five breaths left in her body. The memsahib had gone in the cart--and the chota baba[12]--the Sonny Sahib--had always had good milk--and she had taken none of the memsahib's ornaments, only her little black book with the charm in it.

[12] 'The little baby.'

'That is true talk,' interposed Sunni, 'Tooni's words are all true.

Here is the little black book.'

Colonel Starr had the face of a man in a dream, half conscious and trying to wake up. His lips worked as he took the oilskin bag from Sunni, and he looked at it helplessly. Little Lieutenant Pink took it gently from him, slit it down the side with a pocket-knife, and put back into the Colonel's hand the small leather-bound book. On the back of it was printed, in tarnished gold letters, 'Common Prayer.'

It was a very little book, but the Colonel was obliged to hold it with both hands. Even then they trembled so that he could hardly turn to the fly-leaf. His eyes filled as he read there, 'Evelyn Starr from John Starr, December 5th, 1855,' and remembered when he had written that. Still the shadows crept eastward, the mynas chattered in the garden, the scent of the roses came across warm in the sun. The Rajputs looked at him curiously, but no one spoke.

The Colonel's eyes were fixed upon Sunni's face. He made one or two efforts to speak that did not succeed. Then 'And this is the baby,' he said.