India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"Why the deuce doesn't it pull the _karait_ out?" said Dermot, bending down
to look more closely, as the mongoose paused. "By George! Look at this,
Barclay. The snake's fastened to the inside of the slipper by a loop and a
bit of thin wire."
"What a devilish trick!" cried Barclay.
"Well, I hope that concludes the entertainment for tonight," said Dermot.
"Enough is as good as a feast."
When next morning the servant brought in his tray, Dermot was smoking a
cigarette in an easy chair, and he fancied that there was a scared
expression in the man's eyes, as the fellow looked covertly at the slippers
on the Major's feet.
CHAPTER XVII
A TRAP
In the forenoon of the fifth day of the Durgá-Puja Festival the _Dewan_ and
Chunerbutty sat on the thick carpet of the Rajah's apartment, which was in
that part of the Palace facing the wing given up to the visitors. It formed
one of the sides of the square surrounding the paved courtyard below, which
was rarely entered. Only one door led into it from the buildings which
lined it on three sides, a door under the Rajah's suite of apartments.
That potentate was sprawling on a pile of soft cushions, glaring
malevolently at his Chief Minister, whom he hated and feared.
"Curses on thee, _Dewan-ji_!" he muttered, turning uneasily and groaning
with the pain of movement. For he was badly bruised, sore, and shaken, from
his treatment by the crowd on the previous day.
"Why on me, O Maharaj?" asked the _Dewan_, looking at him steadily and with
hardly-veiled contempt.
"Because thine was the idea of this foolish celebration yesterday. Mother
Durgá was angry with me for introducing this foreign way of worship,"
answered the superstitious atheist, conveniently forgetting that the idea
was his own. "It will cost me large sums to these greedy priests, if she is
not to punish me further."
"Not for that reason, but for another, is the Holy Mother enraged, O
Maharaj," replied his Minister. "For the lack of a sweeter sacrifice than
we offered her yesterday."
"What is that?" demanded the Rajah suspiciously. He distrusted his _Dewan_
more than any one else in his service.
"Canst thou ask? Thou who bearest on thy forehead the badge of the Sáktas?"
"Thou meanest a human sacrifice?"
"I do."
"I have given Durgá many," grumbled the Rajah. "But if she be greedy, let
her have more. There are girls in my _zenana_ that I would gladly be rid
of."
"The Holy Mother demands a worthier offering than some wanton that thou
hast wearied of."
Chunerbutty spoke for the first time.
"She wants the blood of one of the accursed race; of a _Feringhi_; of this
soldier and spy."
The Rajah shifted uneasily on his cushions. He hated but he feared the
white men, and he had not implicit faith in the _Dewan's_ talk of their
speedy overthrow.
"Mother Durgá has rejected him," he said. "Have ye not all tried to slay
him and failed?"
The _Dewan_ nodded his head slowly and stared at the carpet.
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.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account