The Adventures of Kathlyn

They had wearied of their tolerant king, who had died mysteriously;

they were now wearied of the council and Umballa; in other words, they

knew not what they wanted, being People.

Who was this fair-skinned woman who stood so straight before Umballa's

eye? Whence had she come? To be ruled by a woman who appeared to be

tongue-tied! Well, there were worse things than a woman who could not

talk. Thus they gabbled in the bazaars, round braziers and dung fires.

And some talked of the murder. The proud Ramabai had been haled to

prison; his banker's gold had not saved him. Oh, this street rat

Umballa generally got what he wanted. Ramabai's wife was one of the

beauties of Hind.

Through the narrow, evil smelling streets of the bazaars a man hurried

that night, glancing behind frequently to see if by any mischance some

one followed. He stopped at the house of Lal Singh, the shoemaker,

whom he found drowsing over his water pipe.

"Is it well?" said the newcomer, intoning.

"It is well," answered Lal Singh, dropping the mouthpiece of his pipe.

He had spoken mechanically. When he saw who his visitor was his eyes

brightened. "Ahmed?"

"Hush!" with a gesture toward the ceiling.

"She is out merrymaking, like the rest of her kind. The old saying: if

a man waits, the woman comes to him. I am alone. There is news?"

"There is a journey. Across Hind to Simla."

"The hour has arrived?"

"At least the excuse. Give these to one in authority with the British

Raj, whose bread we eat." Ahmed slid across the table a very small

scroll. "The Mem-sahib is my master's daughter. She must be spirited

away to safety."

"Ah!" Lal Singh rubbed his fat hands. "So the time nears when we

shall wring the vulture's neck? Ai, it is good! Umballa, the toad,

who swells and swells as the days go by. Siva has guarded him well.

The king picks him out of the gutter for a pretty bit of impudence,

sends him afar to Umballa, where he learns to speak English, where he

learns to wear shoes that button and stiff linen bands round the neck.

He has gone on, gone on! The higher up, the harder the fall."

"The cellar?"

"There are pistols and guns and ammunition and strange little wires by

which I make magic fires."

"Batteries?"

"One never knows what may be needed. You have the key?"

"Yes."

"Hare Sahib's daughter. And Hare Sahib?" with twinkling eyes.

"In some dungeon, mayhap. There all avenues seemed closed up."

"Umballa needs money," said Lal Singh, thoughtfully. "But he will not

find it," in afterthought.

"To-morrow?"

"At dawn."

These two men were spiders in that great web of secret service that the

British Raj weaves up and down and across Hind, to Persia and

Afghanistan, to the borders of the Bear.