India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"Come," he said to Hunsa, "together we will go to the iron box and open
it; then there can be no suspicion that the men of Alwar have been
defrauded."
Hunsa turned malignant eyes upon Sookdee, but, keys in hand, strode
toward the tent.
Sookdee, thrusting in the fire a torch made from the feathery bark of
the _kujoor_ tree, followed.
Hunsa kneeling before the iron box was fitting the keys into the double
locks. Then he drew the lids backward, and the two gasped at a glitter
of precious stones that lay beneath a black velvet cloth Hunsa stripped
from the gems.
Sookdee cried out in wonderment; and Hunsa, slobbering gutturals of
avarice, patted the gems with his gorilla paws. He lifted a large
square emerald entwined in a tracery of gold, delicate as the
criss-cross of a spider's web, and held it to his thick lips.
"A bribe for a princess!" he gloated. "Take you this, Sookdee, and
hide it as you would your life, for a gift to the son of the Peshwa,
who, methinks, is behind the Dewan in this, we will be men of honour.
And this"--a gleaming diamond in a circlet of gold--"for Sirdar
Baptiste," and he rolled it in his loin cloth. "And this,"--a string
of pearls, that as he laid it on the black velvet was like the tears of
angels,--"This for the fat pig of a Dewan to set his four wives at each
other's throats. Let not the others know of these, Sookdee, of these
that we have taken for the account."
Suddenly there was a clamour of voices, cries, the clang of swords, the
sharp crash of a shot, and the two jamadars, startled, eyes staring,
stood with ears cocked toward the tumult.
"Soldiers!" Sookdee gasped. His hand brushed Hunsa's bare arm as he
thrust it into the chest and brought it forth clasping jewels, which he
tied in a knot of his waistcloth. "Take you something, Hunsa, and lock
the box till we see," he said darting from the tent.
Hunsa filled a pocket of his brocaded Jacket, but he was looking for
the Akbar Lamp, the ruby. He lifted out a tray and ran his grimy hands
through the maze of gold and silver wrought ornaments below. His
fingers touched, at the very bottom, a bag of leather. He tore it
open, and a blaze of blood-red light glinted at him evilly where a ruby
caught the flame of the torch that Sookdee had thrown to the earth
floor as he fled.
With a snarl of gloating he rolled the ruby in a fold of his turban,
locked the box, and darted after Sookdee.
He all but fell over the seven dead bodies of the merchant and his men
as he raced to where a group was standing beyond. And there three more
bodies lay upon the ground, and beside them, held, were two horses.
"It is Ajeet Singh," Sookdee said pointing to where the Chief lay with
his head in the lap of a decoit. "These two native soldiers of the
English came riding in with swiftness, for behind them raced Ajeet who
must have seen them pass."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account