The first part of his command was already obeyed, and almost before a
protest could be uttered, Atma's arms were bound behind him and Golab
Singh's servants proceeded zealously to search his person. In silence
and with lips compressed, Bertram and his brother officers looked on
whilst he submitted to this indignity, no syllable escaping him from
the moment when he fixed his accusing gaze on his foe. But when a tiny
onyx-box of curious workmanship was produced from the folds of his
girdle, and laid before the Rajah of Kashmir, he did not repeat the
look, although on its appearance Lal uttered an exulting exclamation.
The onyx-box was all that rewarded the scrutiny of the Rajah's servants.
"Open it!" he commanded, and forthwith the fatal casket was unclosed.
Golab Singh, bending over it, inhaled the strong and subtle odour that
had nearly overcome Atma the morning he received the box from the hands
of Nama at the sacred shrine. The Maharajah turned pale, and with
difficulty recovered his breath. "Miscreant!" cried the courtiers.
Now a paper was unfolded bearing the seal and superscription of the
Maharanee Junda Kowr, the dangerous foe of the British to whom Golab
Singh owed his throne.
"An emissary of the Ranee," cried some.
"A spy," shouted others, while Golab Singh had thoughts which it would
not have been prudent to utter aloud in that mixed assemblage.
"A despatch from the Ranee withheld by this traitor for who knows what
villainous purpose!"
"He shall pay the penalty," he thundered, "before the sun rise
to-morrow. Carry him bound to a dungeon!"
Now an Englishman who stood beside him touched the prisoner on the
shoulder. His face had grown stern, and he narrowly searched Atma's
countenance as he spoke gravely but gently enough. "Have you no word to
say, Atma Singh, when you are accused of playing so base a conspirator's
part against the life of your host and of your friends?"
Then Atma spoke and proudly, "No word, Sahib, which a Sikh may utter."
Excitement prevailed and great consternation. Englishmen exchanged
glances; plots, they believed, of an unguessed extent surrounded them.
Musselmen and Sikhs looked at one another with fierce suspicion.
"Where," their faces asked, "are his accomplices?" And no look of doubt
fell on his denouncer. The Rajah's rage increased every moment, adding
to the commotion which delayed the fulfilment of his commands. To
enhance the confusion, the party of horsemen now returned. They pressed
around, hearing and giving tidings. In the tumult Bertram reached
Atma's side, but before he could speak, Atma whispered in his ear, "Meet
me in the Moslem Burying ground to-morrow night." Then with a sudden and
strong effort, swift as a bird, he freed himself from the excited
uncertain grasp that held him, and springing upon a horse he was off on
the wings of the wind. A score of men scrambled to their saddles, but
they were in confusion, and their horses were tired, whilst Atma had
mounted a fresh horse just brought forward for his own safe escort to
prison. In the disorder, he gained a few priceless moments of time, and
threading well his way between the groves that dotted the plain, he was
soon lost to view.