Part 35 (1/2)

”Mother Kali preserve me!” shrieked the superst.i.tious Rajah, flinging himself in terror on his face. ”That was no mortal elephant. Was it _Gunesh_ that spoke?” He lifted his head timidly. ”It is a warning. Spare the _Feringhi_. Let him go.”

”Spare him? Knowest thou, O Maharaj, that the girl thou dost desire loves him? But an hour ago I heard her tell him that she wished to speak with him alone,” said Chunerb.u.t.ty.

”Alone with him? The shameless one! Curses on him! Let him die,” cried the jealous Rajah, his fright forgotten.

The _Dewan_ smiled.

”There was no need to fear the cry of that elephant,” he said. ”It was your favourite, s.h.i.+va-_ji_. He is seized with the male-madness. They have penned him in the stone-walled enclosure yonder. He killed his _mahout_ this morning.”

”Killed Ebrahim? Curse him! If he had not cost me twenty thousand rupees I would have him shot,” growled the Rajah savagely. ”Killed Ebrahim, my best _mahout_? Why could he not have slain this accursed _Feringhi_ if he had the blood-l.u.s.t on him?”

”In the name of Siva the Great One!” exclaimed the _Dewan_ piously. ”It is a good thought. Listen to me, Maharaj! Listen, thou renegade” (this to Chunerb.u.t.ty, who dared not resent the old man's insults).

The three heads came together.

After lunch that day Dermot sat smoking in his room. Although it had no punkah and the heat was great, he had escaped to it from the crowded lounge to be able to think quietly. But his thoughts were not of the attempts on his life and the probability that they would be repeated. His mind was filled with Noreen to the temporary exclusion of all other subjects. She puzzled him. He had supposed her engaged, or practically engaged, to Charlesworth. Yet she had come away from Darjeeling at its gayest time and here seemed to be engrossed with Chunerb.u.t.ty. She was always with him or he with her. He never left her side. She sat by him at every meal. She had gone alone with him in his howdah to the _Moti Mahal_, when every other elephant had carried more than two persons. He knew that she had always regarded the Hindu as a friend, but he had not thought that she was so attracted to him. Certainly now she did not appear content away from him.

What would Charlesworth, who hated natives, think of it?

As for himself, their former friends.h.i.+p seemed dead. He had naturally been hurt when she had not waited in the hotel at Darjeeling, though she knew that he was coming to say good-bye to her. But perhaps Charlesworth had kept her out, so he could not blame her. But why had she deliberately avoided him here in the Palace? What was the reason of her unfriendliness?

Yet that morning in the lounge after breakfast he had chanced to pa.s.s her where she stood beside Chunerb.u.t.ty, who was speaking to a servant. She had detained him for a moment to tell him that she wished to see him alone some time, for she wanted his advice. She seemed rather mysterious about it, and he remembered that she had spoken in a low tone, as if she did not desire any one else to hear what she was saying.

What did it all mean? Well, if he could help her with advice or anything else he would. He had not realised how fond he was of her until this estrangement between them had arisen.

As he sat puzzling over the problem the servant who waited on him entered the room and salaamed.

”_Ghurrib Parwar!_ (Protector of the Poor.) I bring a message for Your Honour. The English missie _baba_ sends salaams and wishes to speak with you.”

Dermot sprang up hastily.

”Where is she, Rama? In the lounge?”

”No, _Huzoor_. The missie _baba_ is in the Red Garden.”

”Where is that?”

”It is the Rajah's own private garden, through there.” The servant pointed down to the gateway in the high wall of the courtyard below. He had opened the shutter of the window by which they were standing. ”I will guide Your Honour. We must go through that door over there under His Highness's apartments.”

”_Bahut atcha_, Rama. I will come with you. Give me my _topi_,” cried Dermot, feeling light-hearted all at once. Perhaps the misunderstanding between Noreen and him would be cleared up now. He took his sun-hat from the man and followed him out of the room.

Noreen was greatly perplexed about the insult, as she considered it, of the Rajah's offer of the necklace. She feared to tell her brother, who might be angry with her for suspecting his friend of condoning an impertinence to her. Equally she felt that she could not confide in Ida or any one else, lest she should be misjudged and thought to have encouraged the engineer and his patron. To whom could she turn, sure of not being misunderstood? If only Dermot had remained her friend!

She was torn with longings to know the truth about his relations with Ida.

The uncertainty was unbearable. That morning in her room she had boldly attacked Ida and asked her frankly. The other woman made light of the whole affair, pretended that Noreen had misunderstood her on that night in Darjeeling, and laughed at the idea of any one imagining that she had ever been in love with Dermot.

The girl was more puzzled than ever. Her heart ached for an hour or two alone with her one-time friend of the forest. O to be out with him on Badshah in the silent jungle, no matter what dangers encircled them!

Perhaps there the cloud between them would vanish. But could she not speak to him here in the Palace? He seemed to be no longer fascinated with Ida, if indeed he ever had been. She could tell him of the Rajah's insult. He would advise her what to do, for she was sure that he would not misjudge her. And perhaps--who knew?--her confiding in him might break down the wall that separated them. She forgot that it had been built by her own resentment and anger, and that she had eluded his attempts to approach her.

Even now she felt that she could not speak to him before others.