British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
“In the course of a few centuries, I suppose. There seems to be the
usual transport difficulty, to judge by the way the tribesmen are
chortling over the loss of time. Of course Anstruther and Sultan Jān
made good use of their ears, and learned all they could without asking
suspicious questions. In the morning they started off with their
fellow-lodgers in this direction, and I must say I don’t envy their
feelings. If they had happened to meet one of Sultan Jān’s tribe, it
would have been all up. However, the rotten discipline of Bahram
Khan’s lot stood them in good stead. It seems that the permanent
investing force here consists only of his personal hangers-on and a
detachment from the Nalapur army, which the Amir has made as small as
he dares, and would like to recall altogether. All the rest--the
tribesmen and robber bands--start off whenever they like to raid along
the frontier, just leaving representatives in the town to see how
things go, so as to make sure of not missing their share in the loot
when this place falls. There’s one good thing--they’ll have
established such a sweet reputation among the country-people that we
shan’t have much trouble in hunting them down when the rising is
over.”
“Aren’t you counting your chickens a little too soon?” asked Mabel,
with a rather strained smile. “And we are forgetting----”
“Our two fellows? So we are. I’m an awful chap for wandering away from
the point. Well, they found Bahram Khan established in the
court-house, which was in a horrible state of squalor, overlaid with a
little cheap magnificence. He received them with every appearance of
friendliness, though they were certain he suspected them. They had
nothing to go upon, for he treated them royally, and promised them
both posts in his bodyguard, but they felt sure there was something
wrong. They expected to be denounced every minute, but he was too wily
for that. Before letting them go to their quarters at night, he
informed them confidentially that he had just finished constructing a
mine reaching from General Keeling’s house to our east curtain, and
that it was to be exploded the next day. They should form part of the
storming-party, and have the honour of leading. Of course they
pretended to accept with tremendous delight, but he had got them in an
awful fix. There was just the one hope that the mine did not really
exist at all, but when they asked the rest about it, they were shown
the entrance, though they were not allowed to go down into it, because
of the explosives put ready there, the fellows said. I think myself,
and so does Runcorn, that the soil is much too light for them to be
able to dig such a length of tunnel without its falling in, and that
we must have heard them at work if they had got as near as they make
out, but of course Anstruther dared not trust to the chance. He didn’t
venture to speak to Sultan Jān, but they managed to give each other a
look which meant that they must get away and warn us. Of course that
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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