Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"Certainly, you shall have the men," said the Gomashta: "and now come
along; I shall have to collect the gold, and it may be late before
it can be weighed and delivered to you, and the rupees passed by a
suraff." As we went on, the dullal said to me, "You will pay me at the
kothee, will you not?"
"We will see," said I; "the money is none of mine, and I will ask
advice on the subject."
"Not your money! Whose then?"
"Why his who has employed you, and from whom you are to get one hundred
and fifty rupees," I said; "are you a fool? Why do you ask?"
"Ah nothing, only I was thinking--"
"Thinking of what?" I asked; "some rascality I doubt not."
"Ah," said he, "now you speak as you did at the Char-Minar."
"By Alla!" said I, stopping and looking at him, "if ever you mention
that word again--"
"Never, never!" cried the wretch, trembling; "do not beat me; remember
it is the open street, and there will be a disturbance; the words
escaped me unawares, just as I was thinking--"
"That is twice you have said that, and by Alla! I think you have some
meaning in it; what _would_ you be at?"
"Nothing, nothing," said he; "only I was thinking--"
"Well!"
"I was only thinking that you are an adventurer, who has accompanied
that rich merchant from Hindostan."
"Well, and what of that? you knew that before."
"You are not rich?"
"No indeed," said I, "I am not."
"Then," said the wretch, "why not both of us enrich ourselves."
"How?" I asked.
"Refuse the guard, or take some men I will guide you to; they will do
whatever you like for five rupees a piece; we will fly with the money,
and there is a place in the rocks close to this where I have plunder
hidden--we will go thither and share it."
"Where is the place you allude to--is it far?" I asked.
"No," said he; "will you come? I can show it you from a distance;
we need not get up the rocks--there is danger of being seen in the
daytime."
I followed him for a little distance, and he pointed to a huge pile of
rocks at the back of the Karwan and Begum Bazar. "There, do you see a
white spot about half-way up on a rock?"
"I do," said I.
"That is the spot," he replied; "it is known but to myself and a few
others; whatever I can pick up I put there."
"What do you get?"
"Ah, little enough; sometimes a shawl, a brocade handkerchief, or some
gold, anything in fact. But why do you ask? Will you do what I said and
join us? there are sixteen of us; one is yonder disguised as a Fakeer,
the rest are hard by and will accompany us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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