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THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 i 
 
I T] 
 
 AU' 
 
 Th 
 
THE HOSTS 
 
 OF THE LORD 
 
 HY 
 
 FLORA ANNIE STEEL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ON THE FACE OF THE WATERS," '« MISS STUART's 
 LEGACY," "THE FLOWER OF FORGIVENESS," ETC. 
 
 This edition must not be imported into Great Britain or the 
 
 United States. 
 
 TORONTO 
 THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED 
 
 1900 
 
f^Z 3 
 
 <r 
 
 2/3 fo 
 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of the Parlianient of Canada, in the year one thousand 
 nine hundred, by Thk Coim', Clark Company, Limitkd, Toronto, Ontario, in the 
 Office of the Minister of Agriculture. 
 
 U^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. A Shadow . 
 
 II. "He shall feed his Flock like a Shepherd" 
 
 III. Driftwood 
 
 IV'. Under-currents 
 
 V. The "Dee-Puk-Rag" 
 
 VI. Alpha and Omega . 
 
 VII. The World's Desire 
 
 VIII. Fallin(; Stars . 
 
 IX. Out of the Past 
 
 X. The Pivots of Life . 
 
 XI. Wheels within Wheels 
 
 XII. The Church Militant 
 
 XIII. At the Gates . 
 
 XIV. Miracle Mongers 
 XV. Oh ! DEM Golden Slippers 
 
 XVI. Echoes 
 
 XVII. The Pool of Immortality 
 
 XVI II. Adrift 
 
 XIX. Juliet 
 
 XX. Trapped 
 
 XXI. Margherita 
 
 FACE 
 I 
 
 12 
 27 
 
 37 
 
 SO 
 
 63 
 6y 
 
 80 
 
 92 
 105 
 117 
 129 
 142 
 156 
 166 
 179 
 192 
 
 202 
 
 214 
 
 225 
 
 237 
 
v! 
 
 CONTEA'TS 
 
 CMAJ'TKR 
 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A Monopoly 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 The Search-Light 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Beyond the Shadow 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Dawn . 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Foiled 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 L' Addio del Marito 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The Truth 
 
 PAf.R 
 249 
 
 259 
 
 271 
 284 
 297 
 
 3" 
 
 328 
 
PAf.R 
 249 
 
 259 
 
 271 
 
 284 
 
 297 
 
 3" 
 
 328 
 
 m ^m^^^^m^'^ 
 
 '#«iSt!: 
 
 
 125^ 
 
 -3-#-'- 
 
 h=^^4 
 
thoi 
 
 don' 
 
 who 
 
 hii^n 
 
 this 
 
 faini 
 
 sun-i 
 
 hisf 
 
 that 
 
 — 1( 
 
 '• an 
 
 path 
 
 'Cr 
 
 Adj 
 
 troi] 
 
 eart 
 
 glin 
 
 pau 
 
 yell 
 
 still 
 
 rou 
 
 low 
 
 dre 
 
 in i 
 
 in 
 
THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A SHADOW 
 
 " Understand ! Of course you don't. I don't, 
 though I've been here two years. And what's more, I 
 don't want to," retorted a rather undersized Englishman, 
 whose white drill suit made him look like a stem to the 
 huge mushroom of a pith hat which he wore. Despite 
 this protection his face was brown exceedingly, and 
 faintly wrinkled through sheer exposure to sun-bright, 
 sun-dried air. The fact enhanced the monkey type of 
 his features, and made his clear, light-blue eyes — so set 
 that they were shadowless below and cavernous above 
 — look quite aggressively cool, inquisitive, intelligent. 
 
 " So long as we don't understand them," he went on, 
 " and they don't understand us, we jog along the same 
 path amicably, like — well ! like the pilgrims to the 
 ' Cradle of the Gods,' and the telegraph-posts to the 
 Adjutant General's office up the road yonder — and I'll 
 trouble you to cram more space than that between two 
 earthly poles ! No ! It is when we begin to have 
 glimmerings that the deuce and all comes in — " He 
 paused in the molten gold of sunlight, which made the 
 yellow sand, the corn-coloured tussocks of tiger-grass 
 still yellower and still more corn-coloured, to glance 
 round, as if measuring the distance between the long, 
 low line of mud enclosure they had left but a few hun- 
 dred yards behind — yet which, already, was losing itself 
 in an illimitable sand stretch beyond — and a bigger tuft 
 in the sand stretch ahead; a tuft of spear-points and 
 
 B 1 
 
THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 horses, bayonets and men, waiting beside the first faint 
 semblance of a reed-paved road. Then he took out his 
 watch. Apparently he found leisure at his disposal, for 
 he walked on. " There's a nursery rhyme they taught 
 me," he continued, " when my moral nature was at 
 the mercy of any fool who chose to take an interest in it 
 — 'But if poor Pussy undcj'stood, she'd be, indeed, a 
 7iaugkty ereaturc ! ' It didn't run so consecutively, of 
 course ; in fact ' creature ' rhymed to * teach her ' — 
 but I learnt it that way. Children do that sort of thing 
 a sight deal oftener than their elders think." 
 
 The younger of the two men in uniform with whom 
 he was walking laughed — the honest, elated, conscious 
 laugh of one who has not many good stories about him- 
 self, ana happens on an opportunity for telling one of 
 them. 
 
 " / used to say, * Six days shalt thy neigJibour do all that 
 thou hast to do, and the seve7tth day shalt thou do no 
 manner — ' " 
 
 " Shut up, Lance ! " interrupted his elder companion 
 with a laugh. " It is a ripping excuse for your intoler- 
 able laziness, but I don't believe — " 
 
 ** Fact, I assure you," protested Lance Carlyon ag- 
 grievedly, " and considering I really thought that was the 
 proper version for ten years of my life, I — " 
 
 Dr. George Dillon took off his mushroom hat sud- 
 denly, and wiped his forehead as if to smooth away 
 the wrinkles which his smiles had brought to it. 
 '* Lordy ! It's a queer world," he put in. " There is 
 really no good in understanding most things. As for 
 this place — ! Great Scott ! What would happen if 
 my fifteen hundred scoundrels, whom you saw digging 
 like babes in the open just now, were to unden:tand that 
 I — one Englishman in charge — had virtually no force 
 majeure — " 
 
 '* Don't insult us, Dillon ! " remonstrated Captain 
 Vincent Dering, a certain swagger underlying his jest. 
 ** Eshwara is a garrison town, remember, now ; I'm 
 commandant, and Carlyon's staff — " 
 
A SHADOW 
 
 e first faint 
 took out his 
 disposal, for 
 they taught 
 ure was at 
 nterest in it 
 ', indeed, a 
 cutively, of 
 ich her ' — 
 3rt of thing 
 
 with whom 
 , conscious 
 about him- 
 ing one of 
 
 " do all that 
 thoit do 710 
 
 companion 
 )ur intoler- 
 
 arlyon 
 lat was the 
 
 ag- 
 
 n hat sud- 
 )oth away 
 ht to it. 
 * There is 
 . As for 
 liappen if 
 V digging 
 ctand that 
 y no force 
 
 Captain 
 
 his jest. 
 
 low; I'm 
 
 He had, in fact, ridden that morning as far as Dr. 
 Dillon's house in charge of a troop of native cavalry and 
 some Sikh pioneers who had gone on, under a native 
 officer, to take up their temporary quarters in the half- 
 ruined Fort, just beyond the old town of Eshwara. And 
 now, having thus secured their breakfasts, he and his 
 lieutenant were on their way towards the horses antl 
 escort they had bidden await them at the boat bridge 
 which lay between them and their destination. For 
 George Dillon was in control of a large industrial gaol, 
 whose inmates had for months been digging the head 
 works of a canal, which was to take off just below the 
 town, on the farther side of the river. 
 
 " Are you } " replied the doctor, with a look of pity ; 
 "then I hope you'll both forget the fact. We've got 
 on all right without you, hitherto. So if you'll stick to 
 marking out the Viceroy's camp, and generally prepar- 
 ing the way of the Lord-sahib, I'll be obliged to you. 
 By the way, is he coming to open the canal on the loth, 
 really .? " 
 
 " So they say. That is, if you are ready for the show 
 by then. I believe he could put it off till the nth or 
 I2th. Dashwood said something to that effect." 
 
 "Then Dashwood's an ass. The loth is bad enough. 
 The place will be filling up even then." 
 
 "Filling up! How.?" 
 
 " Pilgrims. But on the i ith and 12th ! By George ! 
 you should see them ! The 'Assyrians came down like 
 a wolf on the fold,' is nothing to it ; only these are the 
 Hosts of the Lord, I suppose. And so Dashwood sug- 
 gested the nth or 12th — the Vaisakh festival, did he .^^ 
 Well, he is an ass ! But that's always the way. We try 
 to understand feelings, instead of trying to know facts. 
 However, we shall be ready for the opening, never fear. 
 Smith expects his C. S. I. over it, he says, and that's 
 enough guarantee. You know vSmith, don't you, 
 Dering } Walsall Smith — I think his wife said she 
 knevv you." 
 
 " Yes," he interrupted, with rather unnecessary de- 
 
THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 cision, " Mrs. Walsall Smith is a great friend of mine, a 
 very great friend." 
 
 "Jolly for you, having friends in Eshwara," assented 
 Lance, in uneasy haste. " I suppose they are about the 
 only people here, eh, doctor .<* " he went on, changing 
 the subject ; but the latter's clear eyes and brain were 
 occupied for a moment in taking stock of Captain Ber- 
 ing's singular, if a trifle voyant personal attractions ; one 
 of the most noticeable of which was the perfect curve of 
 his throat and cheek. 
 
 "I beg your pardon — people, did you say?" asked 
 Dr. Dillon, after the pause. *' Plenty of people, if you 
 count padres — ^the place swarms with missions, you 
 know. But if you mean polo — " He shook his 
 head. 
 
 Lance Carlyon's honest young face clouded, then grew 
 cheerful again. " Well ! there must be a lot of black 
 partridge, and I expect there's fish in the river. Besides, 
 it's an awfully picturesque place — By Jove ! it is, 
 Dering, isn't it.?" 
 
 They had reached the tuft of spear-points and horses, 
 men and bayonets, and before them lay Eshwara, sun- 
 saturate, shadowless, in the April noon. 
 
 So seen, across the still lagoon of water formed by 
 the junction of the two streams, the Hara and the Hari, 
 which edged the low-lying triangular spit from which its 
 fortified, temple-set walls rose, Eshwara seemed at the 
 very foot of the blue barrier of hill behind it, whose 
 serrated edge, paler than the blue sky above it, claimed 
 three-quarters of all things visible for this world. 
 
 That, indeed, was the noticeable point in the picture 
 presented to the eye. As a rule Heaven claims the 
 larger half of all perspectives. Here, the three ele- 
 ments, earth, air, water, lay across the view in three 
 broad bands of blue, curiously similar in tint ; for the 
 sky was pale with excess of light, the hills with excess 
 of heat, and the water paler than either by reason of a 
 white silt which it brought with it from the snows ; a 
 white silt which a recent flood had left in a fine film 
 
 -^^--^ 
 
A SI/ADOIV 
 
 upon the sand stretches that showed here and there in 
 the broad basin. 
 
 " It is a gypsum detritus,** explained the doctor — 
 " from the * Cradle of the Gods ' — the cave, you know, 
 where the rivers rise. The pilgrims go, in fact, for this 
 very stuff. Find it in the ice crannies, call it ' the clay 
 of immortality,' smear themselves with it, and then die 
 happy, in hundreds, of pneumonia ! Those are the facts. 
 I don't profess to understand them ; and as I told you I 
 don't want to. It's dangerous. As that cracked old 
 Jesuit, Father Narayan, admitted, with that unfathom- 
 able smile of his, when all the other parsons were at me 
 for refusing to allow them access to a postulate or a 
 catechumen, or someone of that sort, who was sent to 
 my jail * the Church has always admitted the value of 
 invincible ignorance* " 
 
 " Father Narayan ! " interrupted Lance Carlyon ea- 
 gerly, " I suppose that's the Father Ninian Bruce who 
 has lived here fifty years, and has a sort of Begum in 
 tow, a descendant of General Bonaventura's, who was 
 the Nawabs' favourite. I want to see that old chap ; he 
 must be a character. My grandmother, old Lady Ca- 
 rewe, used to tell me about him ; long yarns, though she 
 hadn't met him since she was in her teens in a convent 
 at Rome, and he was father confessor, I suppose — she's 
 a Holy Roman, you know, and was a desperate flirt 
 too." 
 
 " So am I," said Vincent Bering quickly. " I mean a 
 Catholic — at least my people are. So I can tell you one 
 thing, Dillon ; Father Ninian isn't a Jesuit. I was talk- 
 ing about him at the Club, when I knew I was coming 
 here, and Father Delamere was indignant at the idea — 
 said he was a disgrace to his cloth." 
 
 George Dillon's dry face grew dryer. " Did he, indeed ! 
 I quite agree that he is, but I didn't think Delamere 
 would have admitted the fact himself ! As for Pidar 
 Narayan, as the natives call him, he — he — " here the 
 dry face melted. " Bless the man," he continued, and 
 the dry voice grew soft, "he thirks he knows more 
 
6 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 about doctoring than I do, and the worst of it is — " 
 here a perfectly charming smile took possession of every 
 wrinkle — " he does, in a way ; for the natives believe 
 in him, and the * saffron bag ' is the best of all remedies. 
 You see, when he was younger, he used often to go with 
 the pilgrims and try to pull some of the poor devils out 
 of the fire — or rather out of the snow — for the * Cradle 
 of the Gods ' lies yonder." 
 
 He pointed to where, faint and far, a peak showed 
 paler than the rest. 
 
 " Why don't they smear themselves here .? " asked 
 Lance stolidly. 
 
 " Why } Because they don't. Besides, there isn't 
 much to come and go upon for a robe of righteousness 
 here. Look ! the breeze is blowing it away already ! " 
 
 In truth the sun, which with the other three elements 
 of earth, and air, and water, give us, in all religions, the 
 whole spiritual life of man, — the world of his probation, 
 the heaven of his hopes, the means of his purification, 
 and the fire of his retribution — had scorched the fine 
 film to dust, and the wind, blowing where it listed, was 
 sweeping it away, leaving the sand stretches unregener- 
 ate as ever. 
 
 " An extra touch of pipe-clay ! " laughed Vincent 
 Bering, dusting his knee as he settled himself in his sad- 
 dle. " Well ! good-by, old chap. I shall see you again 
 soon, for I shall be coming over to the Smiths' pretty 
 often, and I suppose your regiment of ruffians leaves you 
 off duty sometimes. Carlyon, make Dillon an honour- 
 ary member of the headquarters mess ! " 
 
 George Dillon, leaning with his hands in his pockets 
 against the rail of the first pontoon, watching the little 
 cavalcade start, nodded. "Thanks. I'm over pretty 
 often at the Palace. Pidar Narayan plays the fiddle, 
 and the Begum, — as you call her, — Miss Laila Bona- 
 veatura, has a voice. Besides, Babylon — I mean Esh- 
 wara — amuses me." 
 
 " Why Babylon } " asked Captain Dering, stooping to 
 straighten his stirrup. 
 
A SHADOW 
 
 The doctor laughed, as his lounge changed to a start 
 homeward. " Means the same thing. Esh-dwarra — or 
 in another tongue, Bab-y-lon, — is 'the Gate of God,' 
 though Babylon stands for something else nowadays, 
 doesn't it } That's why I say it's never any use to find 
 out the meanings of things. They change so. Stick to 
 facts ; they don't. Well, ta-ta. I'll see you to-morrow, 
 most likely, at the Palace. They have a sort of concert- 
 practice-afternoon on Wednesdays — some of the Mis- 
 sion ladies sing joUily in parts — and the old man is sure 
 to ask you. He sets great store on his ward's position ; 
 besides, I told him you were a nailer at the piano." 
 
 Vincent Bering made a wry face. " The deuce you 
 did ! My dear fellow, I couldn't play hymn tunes to 
 save my life. I shall refuse." 
 
 " Pity," replied Dr. Dillon over his shoulder, as he 
 swung off in strides which emphasized the undue short- 
 ness of his trousers, ** for I heard Mrs. Smith say they 
 wanted a good accompanist. She sings alto — rather 
 well." 
 
 " Oh, does she } " said Captain Dering, in a different 
 tone. 
 
 As they set their faces different ways, there was a 
 smile on both, but the docto "'s was scarcely a pleasant 
 one ; it would, in fact, have been wholly sardonic but 
 for the touch of impatient weariness it brought with 
 it. 
 
 So, through the sun-bright, sun-dried air, while George 
 Dillon walked back to his fifteen hundred malefactors, 
 the little trail of spear-points and bayonets, men and 
 horses, drifted at a foot-pace across the frail bridge 
 towards the town ; drifted unsteadily, the yielding boats 
 swaying, the wooden girders giving and groaning over 
 their burden. Seen so, with but a plank between it 
 and the milky water creased by the faint current, there 
 was something unreal in the gay troop of colour and 
 glitter making its way to the quaint, storeyed town, 
 ablaze in the sunlight, which turned each golden temple- 
 spike to a star. A cool breeze fluttered the lance-pen- 
 
8 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ! 
 
 t I 
 
 "ii ; 
 
 !i 
 
 II'' 
 
 1 1 
 
 M 
 
 i 
 
 I i 
 
 nants, and brought that faint film of white to horse and 
 man, warm flesh, and cold steel. 
 
 And far away on that pale peak, a little white cloud 
 had rested, hiding the "Cradle of the Gods." 
 
 "There must be fish here," remarked Lance dog- 
 matically. " I'll get out my rods to-morrow and try for 
 a * mahseer.' " And the earnestness of his face, as he 
 lifted his eyes skyward to watch a couple of cormorants, 
 would have suited a knight-errtnt of old on the quest of 
 the Holy Grail. 
 
 "It won't be half bad, I expect — for a time, at any- 
 rate," assented Vincent Bering, still with that content 
 upon his face. " We will get up some fun while the 
 camp is here, of course ; and after that — " he paused, 
 and the content became greater — "we'll manage for 
 the month or so we have to stop. At least I shall." 
 
 His voice was soft. He might have been another 
 knight-errant of old, riding across to the enchanted 
 castle of his beloved. 
 
 " I beg pardon, sir," said a voice behind him ; a voice 
 with a strong native accent, yet with a curiously Eng- 
 lish phrasing in it, " but by dismounting here you will 
 reach the Fort in a few minutes on foot. The road is 
 longer." 
 
 Captain Bering turned, as if surprised, to the speaker, 
 a native officer who sat his horse at the salute ; then 
 smiled, and with a clatter of accoutrements slipped to 
 the ground. 
 
 " Come along, Carlyon. I was forgetting that Roshan 
 Khcin is up to the ropes here. You belong to Eshwara, 
 don't you, risaldar sahib ? " 
 
 The man to whom he spoke had slipped from his 
 saddle also, and stood, smart as uniform could make 
 him, still as discipline could hold him. He was a good- 
 looking young Mabomedan of about thirty, curiously 
 English in his movements, curiously native in his exag- 
 geration of martial airs. 
 
 "Huzoor!'' he assented. "We are connected with 
 the late Nawab's house." 
 
 (( 
 
 left, 
 dom 
 sort, 
 tell 
 Rosh 
 Th 
 
A SHADOW 
 
 horse and 
 Arhite cloud 
 
 jcted with 
 
 He spoke with absolute indifference, but Captain 
 Bering, as they left the bazaar, which led from the 
 bridge, for a short flight of steps and a narrow alley 
 cleaving it's way through crowded, shouldering houses, 
 remarked aside : — 
 
 " I believe that means he is about the nearest relation 
 left. The Colonel, I know, wasn't sure about the wis- 
 dom of his coming here ; but then the Colonel is that 
 sort. So I insisted. One wants somebody who can 
 tell you things in a new place. What's* that, in there, 
 Roshan } " 
 
 They had come to a long, high wall, with trees show- 
 ing above it, which stretched away on their right hand 
 for two or three hundred yards, until it ended in an 
 arched tunnel through a massive block of buildings at 
 right angles to it. 
 
 "The palace garden, sir; and that is the palace. 
 There is no entrance this side." 
 
 " The women's apartments, I suppose } " 
 
 '' Huzoor,'' assented Roshan Khan once more. "The 
 Miss Sahib lives there now, and the Padr^ has his 
 chapel there too. The river runs along the side, and it 
 is pleasant." 
 
 " Pleasant and cool," echoed Lance, as the shadow of 
 the tunnel closed in on them. " I'd no idea it was so 
 hot outside. By Jove ! what a quaint place." 
 
 They were emerging on a wide, square courtyard of 
 which the palace formed one side, the fort another, a 
 flight of steps leading down to the river a third, while the 
 fourth was apparently, a wing of the palace. All three 
 walls were absolutely blank save for a low door at each 
 of th'^ four corners ; and these were, so to speak, con- 
 nected with each other by pathways raised two steps 
 above the rest of the courtyard. A similar footpath 
 crossed it in the middle and so completed the resem- 
 blance to a union-jack ; for the pathways were of white 
 marble and red Agra stone, the courtyard of purple-blue 
 brick. These paths met in a round platform in the 
 centre, where, on a stone carriage, stood an old cannon. 
 
10 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 "That's a big gun," said Vincent Bering, when, with 
 a quickened clink of his spurred steps he had reached it ; 
 so, laying his hand lightly on the cylinder, he vaulted to 
 it, as on to a horse, and stooped to read an inscription 
 on the riveted band about the breech. 
 
 "Sanskrit," he said — "that stumps me! it's so con- 
 founded straight. Ah ! here it is in Persian too — that's 
 better." 
 
 There was a faint clash of steel on stone, for, as he 
 read the motto aloud, Roshan's hand, stiffening on his 
 sword-hilt, made ground and scabbard meet. 
 
 Captain Bering slipped to his feet again with a laugh. 
 
 " 'Teacher of religion, and instructor of souls;' that's 
 about a correct translation, isn't it, risaldar sahib ? 
 Well ! I'd back a Maxim against old Blunderbore as a 
 missionary agent nowadays. Hullo ! they worship it 
 still, do they } " He pointed to a faded chaplet of mari- 
 golds around the muzzle, and a red hand printed on the 
 marble below. 
 
 The Mahomedan's face took on the expression of his 
 race and creed ; all unconsciously, too, he reverted to his 
 own language. 
 
 " The idolators do that when they come to bathe ; 
 and they give alms to the saint, when he is inside." 
 
 "Inside ! " echoed Captain Bering. "What! Inside 
 the gun } " 
 
 Here Lance, who had promptly peered down the 
 muzzle, came up from it excitedly, asserting that the 
 saint was there now ; he could sec the brute's fuzzy 
 head half way down, so he must have crawled in feet 
 foremost — one of those naked brutes who smeared 
 themselves with ashes, to judge by his chignon. 
 
 " Make a ripping mop," laughed Vincent Bering, 
 after glancing down in his turn; "clean the gun 
 nicely," — then the insouciance of his face disappeared, 
 its curves hardened — "and by God! I'll make him. 
 I'm not going to have my guns worshipped ! eh, 
 Roshan .? " 
 
 '' Huzoovy' assented the Mahomedan once more, this 
 
// sfr.inoiv 
 
 II 
 
 time joyfully, as — a decorous two paces behind — his 
 spurs jingled in harmony with his captain's across the 
 raised union-jack towards the river-en. of the court- 
 yard where, in a projecting bastion right upon the bath- 
 ing steps, the low arched door stood which gave access 
 to the Fort. 
 
 In order to reach it they had to pass the solitary visi- 
 ble occupant of the wide, sunlit courtyard. This was a 
 man — of what rank, education, occupation, none could 
 tell — who hav'.ig raised a square of two-inch-high mud 
 wall between his twice-born purity and the world, was 
 preparing his daily food. Naked, save for his waist- 
 cloth, and the thread of the twice-born over his left 
 shoulder, he was isolated even from his kindred. Alone 
 with himself and his God. 
 
 Before him in the mud-plastered square, as he sat 
 immovable, was the mud fireplace on which his wheaten 
 dough-cake was crooking ; beside him was a leaf-platter 
 of curds, a brass vessel of milk ; a sight to be seen a 
 hundred times a day in India ; one which should never 
 be forgotten. 
 
 The noon was almost shadowless ; yet, even so, as 
 he led the way, Captain Dering, from sheer habit, 
 swerved to step further from the sacred square. Doing 
 so his foot slipped an instant on the lower step. He 
 gave an impatient exclamation and passed on. A minute 
 later the door of the fort clanged behind the little party, 
 cutting short an English laugh. 
 
 Then, not till then, the man in that square of purity 
 showed signs of life. He rose quietly, almost uncon- 
 cernedly, took the half-baked cake from the embers, 
 the leaf-platter of curds, the vessel of milk, and going 
 down to the river's edge, flung his dinner into it, to 
 feed the fishes. 
 
 In that stumble, the plume-like fringe of Vincent 
 Bering's high peaked turban had sent a shadow to 
 overtop the two-inch barrier between one man and his 
 fellows. 
 
12 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 "HE SHALL FEED I' 
 
 .OCK LIKE A SHEPHERD 
 
 »» 
 
 I 
 
 The garden of the old palace at Eshvvara had been 
 rightly described by Roshan Kh^n as a pleasant place. 
 Longer than it was broad, its shady walks and orange 
 groves clung to the river, raised above it by a balconied 
 wall against which the current ran dimpling. On two 
 of the remaining sides, a twenty-feet high barrier of 
 sheer masonry, buttressed and bastioned, blocked out all 
 curious eyes. On the third, separating it from the 
 courtyard where the big gun stood, rose the palace. 
 Seen thus intimately from within, the latter had 
 changed its character. No longer severe, stern, giving 
 a blank stare at the world from the narrow slits of infre- 
 quent windows, it had grown fanciful, almost fantastic, 
 full of canopied turrets and mconsequent little latticed 
 retreats. 
 
 At least in the two upper storeys ; for the lower one 
 was more solid, its chief feature being a wide, aisled 
 passage leading right through it to a door which gave on 
 the courtyard. Being exactly opposite the one in the 
 corner of the Fort bastion on the other side, this door 
 opened, as the latter did, on one of the slantwise limbs 
 of the quaint union-jack of raised paths which centred 
 in the cannon. 
 
 It was not necessary, however, to go round by this in 
 crossing from one door to the other, as by keeping to 
 the river steps, you could do so on the same level. 
 
 In old times the guardians of the frail beauties for 
 whose delectation the garden had been made, had lived 
 in the crypt-like vaulted rooms which opened out from 
 this aisled passage ; so keeping the gate against illegal 
 wanderings. Since the only other exit from the gaiden, 
 save by boat, was through the second storey of the 
 women's apartments, and as this was by a door leading 
 directly into the royal rooms (which were on the other 
 
"///r SHALL FEED HIS FLOCK LJKE A SLIEPF/ERD" 1 3 
 
 side of the tunnel that gave access to the courtyard, 
 and also divided the palace into two portions — male, 
 and female), the butterfly prisoners had had no chance 
 of fluttering to strange honey. In those days, therefore, 
 the door had always been bolted and barred. 
 
 It stood wide open, however, showing a vista of green 
 at the farther end of the passage, when Captain Bering 
 and Lance Carlyon came over to it in reply to the in- 
 timation that Miss Laila Bonaventura was '^ At Home 
 for music on Wednesday afternoons^' which had been 
 brought to the Fort overnight by an old pantaloon. A 
 very old pantaloon with a wizened face, a few sparse 
 hairs — dyed flaming red — standing at right angles 
 to his cheeks, and a marvellous livery, consisting for 
 the most part of yards upon yards of tarnished tinsel 
 cloth, twisted and twined about head and waist like 
 Saturn's rings. The oldest of old pantaloons, with 
 a back curved by a life-time of obeisances, a toothless 
 mouth, still full of sonorous titles, and a wicked old eye, 
 watchful for the least want of the master, be it good or 
 evil. A pantaloon, with Heaven knows what history of 
 unutterable things hidden in his old brain, such as is to 
 be seen, even in these days, lingering round the ruins 
 of a native court ; a figure despicable enough, yet real ; 
 so in a way pathetic, by reason of its absolute lack 
 of real interest in things as they are. 
 
 And now as the two Englishmen paused, — partly 
 because the swift change from the glare without to the 
 gloom within was startling, — this same pantaloon, with 
 a white muslin robe superadded to the livery as a badge 
 of his dignity as door-keeper, precipitated himself upon 
 them from the shadows, with ancient skips of alacrity 
 and loop-like salaams ; then with crab-like sidlings led 
 the way, the young men following. 
 
 " I must have that old chap on paper before I leave," 
 said Vincent Bering ; " he's too good to be lost." 
 
 So, their steps echoing cheerfully with their laughter, 
 they went on until, towards the middle of the passage, 
 the aisle to their left widened, and through a maze of 
 
M 
 
 THE HOSTS OF Till-: LORD 
 
 1 
 
 pillars and arches, a glimpse or two uf air and sunlight 
 showed sharply. 
 
 Lance took a curious step towards them. "Opens on 
 to the river, I expect ; jolly cool it must be in the hot 
 weather ! By Jove ! those old sinners knew how to be 
 comfortable. Hullo!" — he paused in a sort of horror 
 — "I say, Bering ! I believe it's a chapel. Yes ! it 
 is ! " He took off his cap instinctively, and moved 
 another step forward to see better. 
 
 But Captain Bering called impatiently, "Oh, come 
 along, do, Carlyon ! I didn't promise to go to church ! 
 Hymns are bad enough in all conscience." 
 
 Lance, however, stood rooted to the spot, cap in hand. 
 " Hush ! " he said in a low voice, " I believe they are 
 having service." As he spoke a robed figure showed 
 between the arches against the sunlight beyond them ; 
 showed with something in its lifted hands, then passed 
 to some unseen altar. 
 
 " Oh, come along, do ! there's a good chap, and let's 
 get out c. the way," repeated Captain Bering, sharply. 
 " It's Father Narayan, I suppose, — he's as mad as a 
 hatter, and boshes the whole business — at least, so 
 Delamere said. I told you we were a bit early, but you 
 would start ; still it's too bad of the old man to have 
 his chapel in the front hall ! Come along ! and let us 
 wait in the garden — it looks an awfully jolly one — 
 awfully — " 
 
 He paused, perhaps at the change, this time, from 
 gloom to glare, perhaps at the sudden sense of antici- 
 pation, the sudden quickening of the pulse of life, which 
 made him draw a long breath involuntarily. 
 
 It was not unfamiliar to him, that sudden stir of vi- 
 tality, of expectation ; and with a curious smile on his 
 face he crossed to the edge of the marble plinth on 
 which the passage opened, and leaning over the balus- 
 trade, looked down to a terrace below, and so on to 
 the garden itself. 
 
 A perfect wilderness of common flowers, sown broad- 
 cast, lay at his feet, hemming in a shallow marble tank, 
 
«///? SHAL.I FEl-n HIS FI.OCK LIKE A SHEP//EK/r' 
 
 '5 
 
 which was nearly covered with the dewy leaf-cups of 
 the lotus, and set round with mosaic arabesques. From 
 this tank two aqueducts led to the edge of the terrace, 
 and ended in steep slopes of fretted marble, where cas- 
 cades had once wimpled and dimpled down to the water- 
 maze which lay below — a shiny lake, cobwebbed over 
 by narrow marble paths just wide enough for the bare, 
 flying feet of a laughing girl. Beyond was scented 
 shade, with glints of water-courses gleaming here antl 
 there; while here and there came a peep of a latticed 
 balcony overhanging the river ; a balcony just large 
 enough for a laughing girl and her lover. 
 
 Yet there was not even a butterfly to be seen hover- 
 ing over the flowers. All was still, all was silent, until 
 Vincent Bering's careless laugh echoed through the 
 stillness, the silence. 
 
 . "Can't you imagine it — all lit up — they used to put 
 coloured lamps behind the cascades, I'm told, and play 
 * Catch who can ' up and down and all around the place ! 
 On the whole I expect they enjoyed themselves — better 
 than the type-writing girls of to-day do, for instance." 
 
 " Got beastly sick of enjoying themselves before they 
 had done with it, I expect," replied Lance, succinctly, 
 "especially if there was always such a confounded 
 strong smell of orange blossoms. Bah ! I'd prefer a 
 polecat ; but," he gave a distasteful glance at his com- 
 panion, "I believe you like strong scents." 
 
 " Why not } " laughed Vincent Bering, drawing out a 
 handkerchief deluged with white-rose, and sniffing at it, 
 "it's a harmless taste," here his jest passed to earnest, 
 and his eyes took a half soft, half cynical expression, — 
 " so's the other, in a way. It isn't altogether despicable 
 to let yourself loose in Paradise without an arrUre pens^e 
 of flaming swords. Especially if you can give pleasure 
 to someone else thereby. One could act Romeo and 
 Juliet nicely in this garden. And have your choice of 
 balconies, too," he continued, returning to jest, " even if 
 the young woman — " 
 
 He glanced back as if to verify his remark from the 
 
"/;' __ 
 
 i6 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 faqade of the palace, but what he saw behind him 
 brought a sudden straightening of his lounge, and rather 
 an elaborate doffing of his sailor hat ; for he was always 
 a trifle ornate in his courtesy towards women, and the 
 girl who stood within a pace or two of him was distinctly 
 attractive, if — even at the first glance — a little too 
 bread-and-buttery for his taste ; too young, too clumsy as 
 to waist, too massive in the contours of face and figure. 
 For Captain Vincent Dering's taste had remained con- 
 stant for the last three years to a different type of 
 beauty ; a type which, for the first time in his life, had 
 made him sentimental, romantic, more or less unselfish. 
 Still the girl was handsome, even in that babyish frock 
 of starched white muslin, girt about with a yellow silk 
 sash. The dress, he told himself, — for he was a con- 
 noisseur in chiffons, and had a pretty turn for painting 
 in addition — would have been better soft, and creamy ; 
 but thank heaven ! the sash was not blue, like the 
 marker of the missal she carried in her hand. It might 
 have been ; for it was impossible to fathom the lack of 
 all sense of fitness in some women. Yet the result 
 would have been to take all the ivory tints from this 
 girl's complexion, and leave it jaundiced. And the ivory 
 was charming. 
 
 " I am Miss Bonaventura," she began in a set way, 
 which convinced Captain Bering that she had been sent 
 to say those very words, and none other ; " my guardian. 
 Father Ninian Bruce, will be here directly. Won't you 
 come upstairs to the drawing-room .•* I am sorry we did 
 not know it was so late." 
 
 *• It is our fault ; we are disgracefully early," put in 
 Captain Bering. "I told Carlyon — " then he paused, 
 feeling curiously at a loss before the girl's look of stolid 
 gravity. 
 
 *' Perhaps your watch is too fast," she suggested, 
 "and then my guardian likes to go by the sun. He 
 says it never needs winding up. But I think it is in- 
 convenient, when everybody else has a watch. It is 
 always better to do as other people do." 
 
"//£ SHALL FEED II IS FIOCK LIKE A SHEPHERD'' \y 
 
 was a con- 
 
 Her voice was very sweet and full ; but a country- 
 bred accent spoilt its beauty, and brought a grimace to 
 Captain Bering's face, as he and his companion dutifully 
 followed the speaker up one of the curved flights of 
 steps, which led from the pUnth to a wide loggia on the 
 second storey. Like the room seen through its arches, 
 this was lavishly decorated with fragments of looking- 
 glass fashioned into flowing designs with gilt stucco. 
 The afternoon sun, at this height shining full into the 
 loggia, made it a veritable star chamber. 
 
 *' What a charming place," went on Captain Bering in 
 his best manner. " Boesn't it remind you of the 
 Arabian Nights, Carlyon } " 
 
 A sudden vague surprise and interest came to the 
 girl's face, lightening it infinitely. 
 
 " Have you read the Alif Laila ? " she asked. ** My 
 moonshi brought it — I have to learn Urdu, you know, 
 because my guardian thinks I ought to be able to speak 
 to the people, as he does — and I wanted to read it, 
 because it is my name, you see — Laila — it means 
 * night,* I believe — but my guardian did not wish it. 
 He gave me the * Mirror of Virtue ' instead. It is a 
 very, very long — " 
 
 Her almost childish garrulity ceased in a faint flush 
 over the ivory of her face, and she reverted to her lesson, 
 and her indifference — "The other people will be here 
 directly ; but they will come from the city, across the 
 tunnel, and go straight into the drawing-room. Would 
 you like to come in there, or stay here } " 
 
 "Oh ! stay here, please ! " said Vincent, desperately. 
 The young woman was getting on his nerves. 
 
 " Then perhaps you would like to try the piano .■* " 
 persisted Miss Bonaventura. " My guardian has it 
 brought out here on Wednesday afternoons, because it 
 sounds well among the arches. Will you try it .•*" 
 
 Her hand — it was ivory also, Vincent observed, and 
 had long filbert-shaped nails — held the cover of the 
 keyboard open stolidly ; and Lance Carlyon, feeling a 
 bit desperate also, said appealingly : — 
 
I8 
 
 rifE HOSTS 01- THE LORD 
 
 ''HE 
 
 " Do, Dering. He is a nailer at the piano, I assure 
 you, Miss Bonaventura, and he sings too." 
 
 "So my guardian — " she began, when Vincent's pa- 
 tience gave way and, with a perfect devil of exaspera- 
 tion roused in him, he sat down on the music-stool and 
 with a crash burst into a naughty little love song he 
 had picked up at Brindisi on the way out. He did it 
 simply to soothe himself ; so, to do him justice, he 
 nearly fell off the music-stool in horror when, at the 
 refrain of the second verse, a very full round 7nezzo- 
 soprano joined in it with a verve and abandon far exceed- 
 ing his own. 
 
 He scarcely knew whether to apologize, or go on ; 
 but Miss Bonaventura apparently had no doubts. She 
 finished with a gay little staccato note which would have 
 made her fortune at a music hall, and then turned to the 
 accompanist with a smile which showed an absolutely 
 flawless set of teeth. *' What funny words ; but I like 
 them, and the tune too. What is it called } I should 
 like to get it and sing it to my guardian." 
 
 Vincent, who had begun a stammering regret that he 
 had not remembered her nationality, altered his phrase, 
 with a sense of relief, to '* You know Italian very well, 
 I suppose. Miss Bonaventura .'* " 
 
 She returned to her indifference immediately. " My 
 guardian and I speak it. He loves Italy and the Ital- 
 ians. He knew my grandmother there. She was a prin- 
 cess ; but he never speaks of her, so I don't know very 
 much about it. Only Mother at the convent said that 
 my guardian — " 
 
 She was off, gaily, on the childishly confidential tack 
 again, when the sight of someone coming up the stairs 
 made her veer towards dignity once more. " There is 
 my guardian," she said ; " he is very sorry to have kept 
 you waiting." 
 
 Evidently this was the last bit of her lesson, for 
 she closed the piano with great decision. 
 
 The figure which came slowly towards them was that 
 of a very old man, yet one older, by many years, than 
 
"//£' SHALL L-LED HIS L7.0CA' LIKE 1 SIIErilERD" 
 
 I!) 
 
 I assure 
 
 nt's pa- 
 
 xaspera- 
 
 ool and 
 
 ong he 
 
 I did it 
 
 tice, he 
 
 at the 
 
 7neczo- 
 
 exceed- 
 
 go on; 
 She 
 [Id have 
 \ to the 
 solutely 
 t I like 
 should 
 
 that he 
 phrase, 
 ry well, 
 
 "My 
 he Ital- 
 \ a prin- 
 3\v very 
 lid that 
 
 ial tack 
 3 stairs 
 'here is 
 VQ kept 
 
 on, for 
 
 as that 
 ■s, than 
 
 his looks. For he was still straight, save for a slight 
 stoop in the neck ; but this, by the backward poise of 
 the head thus made necessary to enable his brown eyes 
 to meet all things, after their habit, squarely, if softly, 
 gave him an air of alertness. He was dressed in an or- 
 dinary black soutane^ but wore a fine white embroidered 
 muslin skull-cap, such as natives wear, instead of a black 
 one. His grey hair showed, still luxuriant, beneath it ; 
 and the wide sash of faded lilac silk, with tasselled ends, 
 which was tied in a bow about his waist, set off his still 
 slim and still graceful figure. 
 
 ** I hope my little girl has been doing the honours 
 properly," he began, pausing a pace or two from the 
 young men, and not offering to shake hancl:^ ; but his 
 voice was a welcome in itself, and had that nameless 
 cachet of absolute good breeding which makes offence 
 impossible. There was a slight hesitancy in it too, now 
 and again, which was overcome by a look that took the 
 listener into its confidence, and appealed for friendly 
 forbearance — "but she is only just back from school at 
 Calcutta, and the good nuns did not see much company, 
 did they, Laila .-* " Then in an undertone of solicitude 
 he added, in Italian, " Didst tell them, cava mia ? — didst 
 remember it all } " 
 
 Laila Bonaventura looked at him with a faint resent- 
 ment. " I think so, guardian," she replied, in English. 
 " Didn't I ? " 
 
 The last came with such swift, almost savage, challenge 
 of voice and eyes, that Vincent Dering, the recipient, 
 felt glad of the diversion caused by the arrival, through 
 the drawing-room, of some more guests to claim the at- 
 tention of the host and hostess, and so leave him in peace. 
 
 " I say, that girl has got splendid hair, hasn't she .'' " 
 he said in an undertone to Lance, as they stood a little 
 apart, watching the new comers. 
 
 " That tall one, you mean — don't admire it. Puts me 
 in mind of that devil of a chestnut who nearly killed me 
 at polo ; a chestnut with white stockings ; awfully handy, 
 but — " 
 
20 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 He paused as Father Ninian came up to them. " You 
 can scarcely know any of your neighbours as yet, Cap- 
 tain Dering," began the old man with the ceremony of 
 a past age, "so perhaps you will give me the privilege 
 of presenting you to some of our good mission ladies." 
 
 '• Thanks," replied Vincent, hastily. ** But I see my 
 old friend, Mrs. Walsall Smith, coming in. I must just 
 go and shake hands. But I'm sure Carlyon — " 
 
 Lance shot a perfectly pathetic glance after his Cap- 
 tain, who moved off to meet a delicate-looking fair 
 woman who at that moment came in with Dr. Dillon ; 
 the lattei taken possession of and monopolized by an 
 exceedingly pretty child of five, who had evidently in- 
 herited her mother's fragility. 
 
 " Delighted, I'm sure," murmured Lance, following 
 his leader dejectedly. 
 
 " Miss Erda Shepherd, Mr. Lancelot — I am right, am 
 I not — Ciirlyon.'*" 
 
 It was the tall girl with the red-brown hair, of course. 
 She had bronze eyebrows, too, and bronze eyes — nice 
 ones. He saw so much as he made his bow, while 
 Father Ninian stood looking first at the girl, then at 
 the young man ; and as he looked his fine old hands 
 were clasped as if they held something very precious. 
 It was a habit of his. 
 
 " I hope you will like each other," he said in his kind 
 old voice ; and then, ere he moved away, his hands fell 
 apart for an instant as if giving something. " Peace go 
 with you, my children," he said with a smile. 
 
 Lance felt a queer, unaccustomed thrill travel from the 
 nape of his neck to his boots, pausing by the way at 
 his heart. It was an unusual method of introduction, 
 certainly ; yet somehow it relieved the shyness which 
 generally beset him at such functions. He found him- 
 self looking frankly into the bronze eyes, and something 
 in them made him say, almost involuntarily: — 
 
 "That was rather a jolly way of beginning to be 
 friends. I mean — " The shyness came back with a 
 rush ; he blundered horribly. 
 
"//£' SILII.L FEED HIS FLOCK LIKE A SHEPHERD'' 21 
 
 ''Very," put in the girl, interrupting him quite sim- 
 ply. " I hope it will be peace. I always hope that. 
 You know I am a missionary." 
 
 "Oh," he replied, blankly. "Yes, there are a lot 
 of you — I mean — of them, in Eshwara, aren't 
 there.?" 
 
 Her face set suddenly, her mouth grew almost stern. 
 "Not enough, Mr. Carlyon ; not half enough," she re- 
 plied. And the militant ring of her voice, belying the 
 peaceful professions of the previous moment, made him 
 look at her curiously, recognizing that he had touched 
 some quivering nerve of mind. " If you knew Esh- 
 wara as I know it," she went on, passionately, "you 
 would say so too ; I'm sure you would." 
 
 The bronze eyes, meeting his blue ones, though they 
 gave nothing back but kindly, almost boyish, surprise, 
 seemed satisfied. She turned suddenly and stretched 
 her right hand over the river which slipped oilily past 
 the wall below, as they stood beside the balustrade 
 of the loggia. " Look ! " she said, impulsively. " Do 
 you see that straight white thing floating down the 
 curve of the current yonder.? It isn't a log; those 
 others are ; plenty of logs come down the rivers from 
 the forests in the hills, for they don't catch all, you 
 know, at the government wood-station. And so the 
 people here catch the runaways in the backwater, and 
 get paid for them. But that — " She paused anc her 
 other hand gripped the balustrade hard ; then she tuined 
 back to him with a faint apology. " Why should I 
 bother you } Let us talk of something else. There is 
 no reason why I should talk of these things to you so 
 soon, or, indeed, at all." 
 
 " I'd rather you did," he put in quickly. It was the 
 truth. A sudden curiosity had come to him, a sudden de- 
 sire to know more, to think more. He was less of a boy 
 than he had been five minutes before. "I — I hope you 
 will," he added ; " really I do — I — I — " He felt his 
 manhood as he had never felt it before, and yet, in a 
 way, he was more forgetful of it. The girl opposite him 
 
22 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 was womanhood incarnate to him, and yet, in some 
 mysterious way, beyond it, above it. 
 
 "You and I must be about the same age, I expect," 
 he said, with a half-perplexed frown, " but you have seen 
 a lot more than I have. I wish you'd tell me, please ! " 
 
 The straight white glint in the water was just disap- 
 pearing behind one of those balconies overhanging the 
 river, where there was only room for a pair of lovers. 
 
 " It is a dead girl, Mr. Carlyon," she said in a low 
 voice. " She was in my school. Her people were very 
 bigoted — Brahmins in a temple — but they let her be 
 taught to read, because she was betrothed to an educated 
 man. Last year she was married — she was but a child 
 still — and I have only seen her once or twice since. 
 Then" — the voice paused a second. "She was very 
 frightened, poor little Premi, at what was coming. * I 
 shall die, M\?>?,'Sa/iib, I shall surely die,' she said to me 
 the very last time I saw her ; so I promised — I am a 
 medical missionary, Mr. Carlyon. But when the time 
 came, they would not let me in. I — I went to the 
 husband — he is an educated man — you may have 
 heard of him — Rama-nund, a great speaker, — he 
 writes, too, and all that — but he said he was helpless 
 with the women ; and I am not sure either if he wished 
 it himself — they don't know their own minds. So poor 
 little Premi and her baby — Oh ! " she broke off with 
 an infinite pain in her voice — "it is so hard — so hard 
 for both." 
 
 Her face, set rivcrwards, was soft, yet stern ; full of 
 fight, yet full of pity, and Lance thought of a virgin 
 martyr in the illustrated * Lives of the Saints ' with 
 which his grandmother. Lady Carewe, had been wont to 
 still his boyish unrest on Sunday afternoons. Yet 
 there was something beyond that self-concentrated 
 devotion in this face ; something that took him back 
 further still to the days when he had sobbed out his 
 childish hurts in his mother's arms. 
 
 " She was ill all yesterday and the day before — they 
 told me there was no hope of either — they just let 
 
n some 
 
 ;xpect," 
 ve seen 
 lease ! " 
 t disap- 
 ing the 
 vers. 
 1 a low 
 ;re very 
 
 her be 
 ducated 
 
 a child 
 e since, 
 as very 
 ing. • I 
 to me 
 I am a 
 le time 
 
 to the 
 y have 
 r, — he 
 lelpless 
 
 wished 
 So poor 
 )ff with 
 so hard 
 
 ; full of 
 L virgin 
 
 ' with 
 wont to 
 . Yet 
 ntrated 
 m back 
 out his 
 
 — they 
 just let 
 
 m 
 
 "//E SHALL FEED IIIS FLOCK LIKE A SHEPHERD'' 23 
 
 them die. And they always put them in the river — 
 they have iron rings round their wrists and ankles to 
 prevent them coming back to harm the men — " She 
 paused and turned to Lance swiftly. *' Isn't it true that 
 there are not enough of us — that we want more women 
 to teach them what — " 
 
 " But I does ! " came a high childish treble, forcing 
 itself irresistibly even on the attention of these two ; *' I 
 'ikes '00 twenty 'fowsand times better than dad, an' I 
 'ikes Captain Bering ten 'fowsand times better too ; an' 
 so does 'mum — don't '00 mummie .<* " 
 
 It was little Gladys Smith, who, clasping both Dr. 
 Dillon's hands in hers, had swung herself back from 
 him so as to toss her fair curls from her laughing face, 
 as she looked up at him mutinously. 
 
 There was an instant's awkward pause, during which 
 the eyes of a man and woman met for a second. Met 
 and parted hastily ; but not before the girl with the 
 yellow silk sash, who stood between them, had looked 
 from one to the other with a dim surprise unclosing her 
 red lips, and showing the gleam of her white teeth 
 between them. 
 
 Then Dr. Dillon said, carelessly, '* And you like 
 Akbar Khan better than any of us, you young sinner, 
 because he gives you sweeties ! Here ! Akbar Khan, 
 bring the y[\^?>y-baba some cream toffee ! " 
 
 The old pantaloon, who, with his loose coatee removed 
 and a white duster tucked into Saturn's waist-ring was 
 now helping to hand round coffee and cake, capered up 
 with a voluble, but toothless, — 
 
 " Ger-reeb — pun-ivdz ! " (Protector of the Poor.) 
 
 Gladys helped herself discriminately, staring at the 
 old servitor the while. " But I don't 'ike Akbar Khan. 
 Do I, son of an owl } " she continued superbly, in the 
 accurate Urdu which comes so daintily from lisping 
 English babies. " Did I not say I would hate thee 
 because thou wouldst not tell me why thou didst pros- 
 trate thvself before the soldier in the c 
 
 irty, 
 
 the aj'a/i laughed, the base-born ! She knew also, and 
 
^4 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 would not say, and so did the soldier; so I hate you 
 all!" 
 
 She stamped her little foot, and shook her curls de- 
 fiant'/. 
 
 " Gladys ! " cried her mother, reproachfully. 
 
 "Hallo! What's all this about?" laughed Captain 
 Dering, '^atching the child up in his arms " One of my 
 soldiers insulting you ? Who was it ? " He turned, 
 with the absolute command of his race, to the be-ringed 
 one, who stood, full of deprecatory mumblings and 
 salaamings, his hands, holding the tray of sweets, 
 trembling visibly. 
 
 "Who was it, Khan^Vrf " asked Father Ninian, in a 
 curiously even tone ; one which, nevertheless, seemed a 
 compelling one, for a murmured name came rapidly, 
 followed by eager explanations. 
 
 Father Ninian frowned, and deliberately put on the 
 gold pittcc-nes which always hung around his neck. He 
 seldom used it, however, being, he would say playfully, 
 in his native Scotch, too '* well acquaint " with Eshwara 
 and all in it to need such help after fifty years ex- 
 perience. So it had come to be an unfailing sign that 
 he was face to face with something unexpected, some- 
 thing new. Naturally, therefore, it changed the character 
 of his face, bringing back to it a strange look of youth ; 
 of hope and energy — the look of choice which age has 
 not. 
 
 " Roshan Khan," he echoed, " why comes he here } " 
 Then in sudden recollection he turned to Vincent Der- 
 ing. " Of course, he comes with you. I knew he was 
 in your regiment, but I did not think." 
 
 Captain Dering put down the child gently. "Is there 
 any reason, sir," he asked decisively, " why he should 
 not be here ? If so — " 
 
 Father Ninian took off his eye-glasses slowly. He 
 was back on familiar ground. " No ! " he said, with 
 a smile and a shrug of the shoulders ; " none. He is 
 welcome to come if he likes. He is a fine soldier, 
 Captain Dering, and a good fencer." 
 
''HE SHALL FEED HIS FLOCK LIKE A SHEPHERD'' 2$ 
 
 " The best I have ever come across," put in Lance 
 Carlyon. 
 
 Father Ninian laughed, a satisfied, vainglorious little 
 laugh, and bowed, with his hand on his heart, in foreign 
 fashion. It seemed almost as if something had brought 
 back the manners of a different life. 
 
 ** His master thanks you," he said gaily. " I taught 
 him; but as Esmond said of the botte dc Jesuit — not 
 all. We craftsmen keep something up our sleeve for 
 our own use ! " 
 
 Lance Carlyon 's face grew eager. He had heard of 
 Father Ninian's art with the foils, and took his oppor- 
 tunity. " That's what Roshan does to me. I took 
 lessons from him, but he licks my head off with tricks. 
 Perhaps some day, sir — " 
 
 Father Ninian's right hand and wrist, despite their 
 age, flourished themselves with marvellous suppleness. 
 " Of a surety ! Of a surety," he interrupted, still in 
 that gay, almost reckless voice, " and I will teach you 
 ' U Addio del Mar i to.' I never taught that to Roshan — 
 it does not do for savage natures." 
 
 "The husband's good-by! What a funny name," 
 echoed Laila, curiously. "Why is it called that, 
 guardian } " 
 
 The gaiety left the old man's face. 
 
 "Because the thrust is used, cara mia^' he replied in 
 Italian, and his answer came dreamily, half to himself, 
 " when even those who have that greatest tie to life 
 prefer to say good-by to it." He paused, then went on 
 cheerfully: "But come! Music! Music! We lose 
 time horribly. Laila, 'tis your part to begin." 
 
 The girl walked stolidly to the piano. 
 
 "What shall I sing, guardian .'' " she asked. 
 
 " Sing } " he repeated, reverting once more to Italian, 
 and his voice had the dreamy tone in it again ; " sing 
 my favourite, child. Something hath taken me back to 
 the old days — and sing it well." 
 
 Something in the pose of the girl, something in the 
 faint defiance of her face as she stood turning over the 
 
26 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 f: 
 
 leaves of the music, attracted Vincent Daring's fancy. 
 He moved over to her, and asked if he should play her 
 accompaniment. 
 
 "If you can," she said, ungraciously. 
 
 He smiled. "What is it? Oh! — Handel." He 
 shrugged his shoulders. " Yes ! I fancy I can play 
 him — he is not very complex." 
 
 The next instant he had embarked, with a certain 
 sense of pique lending perfection to his phrasing, on 
 the prelude ; but perfect as his tone was, it seemed to 
 fall dull and dead before the voice which rose and echoed 
 into the arches. 
 
 " He shall feed His flock like a Shepherd." 
 
 Pure, peaceful, free from every touch of passion ; 
 absolutely, utterly, beyond this world and its works, it 
 rose and filled the garden ; the orange-scented garden 
 with its fretted marble cascades and water-maze, where 
 the feet of laughing girls had chased each other, the 
 latticed balconies where lovers had sat. 
 
 " And He shall gather the lambs in His arms." 
 
 It floated out over the river where the dead girl had 
 drifted, making a light come to a pair of bronze eyes. 
 
 "Come unto Him all ye that labor." 
 
 Out beyond the garden, into the city, a faint far echo 
 of the call made men and women pause in the struggle 
 for life, and say, "They are singing in the palace." 
 
 " And ye shall find rest unto your souls." 
 
 The promise of all religions, the cry which makes all 
 creeds one, rose and fell, as the afternoon sun, shining 
 into the loggia, put a canopy of stars above the head of 
 the singer. 
 
 Some of the audience said "Thank you," politely when 
 she ended. Vincent Bering did not. He stood on one 
 side, and, being musical to the heart's core, gave himself 
 the luxury of silence. Only when Father Ninian, ever 
 
 ci 
 
DRIFTWOOD 
 
 27 
 
 fancy, 
 ly her 
 
 He 
 
 1 play 
 
 zertain 
 ng, on 
 ned to 
 echoed 
 
 mindful of ceremonies and courtesies, crossed to acknow- 
 ledge the services of the accompanist, he said briefly, — 
 
 "Who taught her that?" 
 
 The old man looked at him almost wistfully : " I heard 
 her grandmother sing it, nearly sixty years ago. I have 
 never forgotten it." 
 
 " I do not wonder," said Vincent Bering, and his eyes, 
 forgetful of others, followed the girl whose dress ought 
 to have been creamy and soft, instead of white and 
 starched. 
 
 CHAPTER in 
 
 assion ; 
 orks, it 
 garden 
 , where 
 ler, the 
 
 irl had 
 eyes. 
 
 :ar echo 
 itruggle 
 
 lakes all 
 shining 
 head of 
 
 ly when 
 1 on one 
 himself 
 an, ever 
 
 DRIFTWOOD 
 
 The river Hara, after skirting the fort, the bathing- 
 steps below the courtyard, the palace, and the palace 
 garden, continued its course, still hemmed in to swift 
 current by a high bank on the opposite side, and on the 
 near one by a wall set with spiked temples sacred to 
 Siva ; for Hara is one of his many names. But, on 
 reaching the apex of the triangle formed by the city, 
 the banks fell away, the river spread itself out to greater 
 rest, until, at the uttermost end of a long spit of sand- 
 bank and tamarisk, it met the waters of its twin river, 
 the Hari, in the broad placid lagoon which lay between 
 Eshwara and the south ; that is the dry stretch of desert, 
 againsc whose barrenness Western ingenuity — aided 
 by Dr. Dillon's horde of fifteen hundred ruffians — had 
 been digging defiance for months. From the spit of 
 sand you could see the result. A broad seam on the 
 face of patient Mother Earth, a first wrinkle telling of 
 millions to come from the ploughshares of men. 
 
 As yet, however, the canal was as dry as the desert 
 around it ; and was to remain so until the great Lord- 
 sahib came in state, on his way to the hills, to open the 
 sluices. There was to be a big camp, a big function on 
 the occasion, and even sleepy Eshwara felt a vague ex- 
 citement regarding it. For the older men remembered 
 
aS 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 If I 
 1., - 
 
 1'' 
 
 the days when the Hosts of the 'L.vtx^X-sahibs had regu 
 larly passed through the city, and had tales to tell about 
 them ; a fact which prevented the coming event from 
 being too strange even to be thought about ! Then the 
 opening of the canal was another disturber of primeval 
 calm. True, the idea of it had been with Eshv/ara ever 
 since the first sod had been turned two years before ; 
 but now the thing stared it in the face. Within a few 
 days the waters of the sacred rivers would have to lie 
 in a new bed. Would they like it } Would the gods 
 like it } Would men like it } 
 
 Those were the questions being asked from one end 
 of Eshwara to another. Even outside it, on the long 
 narrow spit of sand-bank set with sparse tussocks of 
 grass and tamarisk which reached beyond the city's tri- 
 angle into the rivers — and where, after a flood, the 
 white gypsum silt lay like a robe of righteousness — 
 they were being discussed ; for the strange race who 
 lived on it, shifting their wigwams of grass to the low- 
 lying land opposite when the waters rose, lived by the 
 river ; by the fish in it, and the logs of wood which 
 came floating down it. 
 
 So this question of the canal was in the mind of the 
 naked man, attired in the complete suit of blue beads 
 which marks an aboriginal rr^*^, who, in the dawn fol- 
 lowing, squatted on the highest curve of the spit. He 
 was small, swart to positive inkiness, and his thin legs 
 and arms shewed grey lights on their tense muscles, as 
 if these were truly iron. Behind him rose a wigwam of 
 reeds, at the entrance to which a spear was stuck in the 
 sand in order to display the head of a bottle-nosed alli- 
 gator impaled on its point. At his right hand was a 
 reed basket, a rude net of reed twine. In front of him 
 lay one of those small shark-like scaleless fishes which 
 the learned call Silurian, and tell us are relics of a crea- 
 tion older than ours. 
 
 So might the man have been. So might have been 
 the background of sand and reed, spear and wigwam, 
 the foreground of net and fish. Yet the fisher was not 
 
DRIFT WOOD 
 
 29 
 
 ; end 
 long 
 
 all iincivilizerl. This little survival of an aboriginal race, 
 shifting about in the shifting river-bcil, had always had 
 an attraction for the Missionaries, who, as a rule, find 
 the inferior races easiest to deal with. Gu-gu therefore 
 — his name being as primitive as his appearance, since 
 it is the first effort of infant tongues — belied iiis looks. 
 He had at any rate a civilized eye to business, a civilized 
 notion of the relations between supply and demand, for 
 he shook his head at the customer opposite him. 
 
 " Not a cowrie less, Khan-jcc. 'Tis the only one in 
 the market, see you ; besides on this day the * Missen ' 
 miss comes to us folk, and she never haggles. She will 
 pay the five annas gladly to be let read her book to my 
 women." 
 
 The mumble — apparently a pious aspiration that 
 the Most High would smite infidels hip and thigh — 
 was the only recognizable point in the figure on the 
 other side of the fish ; for Akbar Khan, doorkeeper, 
 messenger, assistant waiter, had not only discarded 
 Saturn's rings — the loss of which about his head made 
 his baldness something of a shock — but also every arti- 
 cle of clothing except his waist-cloth. The reason for 
 this was, in a way, like many another thing about the 
 old sinner, pathetic. Briefly he liked to dissociate his 
 inner self from occupations which he considered were 
 beneath the dignity of the Akbar Khan of the past. 
 Therefore being, for the nonce, a bazaar coolie in search 
 of fish for his master's breakfast, he got up for the part ; 
 so finding it, at once, easier to forget, and to remember 
 that past. 
 
 He mumbled of it as he strenuously opposed the price. 
 
 ** Everything grows dearer, every day," yawned the 
 aboriginal Gu-gu. " Even women, as thou shouldst 
 know." 
 
 Akbar Kh^n clucked a pious denial. " We spread 
 no nets for that game in the palace nowadays. Those 
 evil times are gone ; we live sober and virtuous " The 
 piety held a distinct flavour of regret. 
 
 "And as for fish," continued Gu-gu, "they will be 
 
30 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 dearer ere they are cheaper. When the deep water 
 begins to run canalwards, the fish will run too. Then 
 good-by to our trade, since the Huzoors allow us nothing 
 in their waters without payment." 
 
 He whined, however, to the wrong quarter for sym- 
 pathy, the old retainer's views on preserving being 
 absolutely those of a Shropshire squire who is also a 
 
 J. p. 
 
 " Neither did we," he replied, indifferently. " Thy like, 
 Gu-gu, would have had to bring thy fish to the palace 
 and be satisfied with our leavings. Out on thee for an up- 
 start ! Take thy four annas, and be thankful — slave ! " 
 
 Gu-gu's ill-tempered face became aggressive. " Not 
 I ! — the Miss will give it; nay! six, mayhap, since the 
 child is sick, and she will be wanting leave to dose it. 
 So — hands off — eunuch!" 
 
 The title, once dignified, was opprobrious now, and 
 old Akbar rose in a perfect fury, his bald head wob- 
 bling, the flaming fringe of red hairs about his face 
 giving him a ludicrous resemblance to a toothless old 
 man-eating tiger, face to face with his lawful prey, yet 
 unable to injure it. 
 
 " Oh ! for the bastinado ! " he stuttered, impotently. 
 " Oh, for the cutting off of bodily members ! Oh ! 
 even, for the tying up of heels, and roastings and 
 duckings. But the Huzoors have taken them from 
 us, and gifted them to the police, who know not the 
 proper methods. Yah ! Gu-gu, had I but had thee fifty 
 years ago ! " his anger lesse ed with sheer wistful regret. 
 ** Fifty years ago when the Nawab gifted me as body- 
 servant to the new Wazeer Bun-avatar^-j^///^ because he 
 bVough; him a bird that would sing of itself from Italy 
 wilayat.''^ 
 
 "But all birds do that," cavilled Gu-gu, feeling never- 
 theless a reverent curiosity about those legendary days. 
 
 Akbar gave a crackling, contemptuous laugh. " Not 
 palace birds 1 they have to be wound up ; and Bun- 
 ■di^idX^x-saJiib sent for this across the black water. So 
 
 ^ Bonaventura. 
 
DRIFTWOOD 
 
 31 
 
 he kept favour with the Nawab. Birds that sing, and 
 flowers that smell, and boxes that make music, and 
 dolls that dance when you wind them. Lo ! these, 
 Gu-gu, are the pleasures of palaces ; but how canst 
 thou know, who hast not lived in them even, as I — " 
 
 The sense of his own superiority soothed him still 
 more ; he squatted down again, and hubble-bubbled for 
 a space at the hookah which was an integral part of all 
 his impersonations. 
 
 ** Yea ! those were times," he mumbled half to himself. 
 "Even Pidar Narayan — may Heaven protect him — 
 could not say ' please God ' to every mouthful, as he does 
 now — as we all do now, and rightly, seeing that we have 
 grown old." Once more the piety smacked of pity, and 
 the old man, finding a listener, went on with a certain 
 gusto. "■ Look you ! he had to walk like the tongue 
 among thirty-two teeth in those days, with Bun-avatdr- 
 sahib, my master, like two peas in one pod with the Nawah. 
 Except for women. Pidar Nardyan took his way there 
 — mostly!" 
 
 The interrupting gurgle of the hookah gave time for 
 an elaborate wink of a wicked old eye. Possibly this 
 was due to the smoke, for the old voice went on as 
 before almost dolorously. 
 
 " He had the money-bags, you see, and looked after 
 the rents. But my master. Bun-avatar — lo ! thou 
 shouldst have seen him when he came first — the 
 picture of a man ! — they say he was a prince in his 
 own country, but fell into trouble ; so came to make 
 his fortune here with Pidar Narayan — was called 
 Wazcer. And let me tell thee, Gu-gu, it means some- 
 thing to be body-servant lo a Wazeer ! Lo ! to think I 
 might have been it still but for that jade, Andri Begum ! " 
 
 Despite the epithet, he smiled, and his pipe this 
 time gave out quite a chuckling sound. 
 
 " As ill to keep within walls as a butterfly ! " he 
 muttered. " Up and down the garden, in and out 
 the balconies, and the Nawab in two minds to use force, 
 or put her in a sack. For she flouted him. The 
 
 M 
 
32 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 prettiest ones play that game for power always, and she 
 was Walidad, her brother's, last hope of favour. Wali- 
 ddd, Kaujara, who had been king's caterer for years 
 before my master, Bun-avatar-^v?///^, came to make all 
 the court cry sour buttermilk ! Walidad, who had once 
 stood so high, that, in a drunken bout, the Nawab 
 promised him his half-sister to wife. And he got 
 her too ! She wept on her wedding day, but we in the 
 lower storey heeded not tears in the upper. For, see 
 you, mine uncle was chief eunuch — we kept the 
 honour thus in the family from generation to generation 
 
 — so I was in and out, seeing what went on. Until 
 somehow (mine uncle with the bowstring round his neck 
 
 — as was right, honest man — swore he knew not how) 
 Bun-avatdr-j-^/;//^ caught a sight of her ! Some say 
 it was a plot, frorr; beginning to end, of Waliddd's ; 
 others that his enemies feared lest Anari should succeed. 
 There be balls within balls, even in a plaything, if the 
 workmen are cunning ! Anyhow, he saw her. 
 
 "And I, his body-servant, was able to come and go 
 where Pidar Narayan hath made his church nowadays. 
 But there ! what matters it } 'Tis all one. Love and 
 the Faith are in and out of men's minds like a shell- 
 drake in weedy water ; a body cannot tell which 
 way its head may be and which its tail ! Nevertheless 
 I felt a choke at my throat, Gu-gu, many a time, as 
 I waited for him in the boat below the balcony ; yet 
 in the end, it was not my throat, but mine uncle's. He 
 died in the faith, Gu-gu, cursing women. His head was 
 that way at the last ! — 'Tis mostly so — lie — he — " 
 
 The chuckle of his pipe was fiendish, yet his wizened 
 face was wistful. " Still, God knows, one could scarce 
 look on at such a wooing, and not beat the drum in 
 time, as musicians to a dancer. And it runs in our 
 blood, see you, tc watch, and beat the drum. That is 
 our profession ; and, by mine ancestors ! I deemed 
 it enough for mortal man. But Bun-avatdr-W///^, see 
 you, was not of our race. He was of Italy wilayat and 
 a prince. So, one day, my liver dissolved hearing that 
 
DRIFTWOOD 
 
 33 
 
 was 
 
 the butterfly was over the walls ! But, as I said, it was 
 mine uncle's neck, not mine. Yet the game ended for 
 me when Bun-avatar- j*?///^ died." 
 
 ** They poisoned him, folk say ; is't true .'' " asked 
 Gu-gu. It was a point in the oft-told tale which was 
 still discussed by Eshwara gossips. 
 
 "That is other folks' news, not mine," replied 
 Akbar, discreetly. " May be, may be not. The Hn- 
 zoors, anyhow, sent the Nawab to die in Calcutta on 
 a piiison^ for it ; but they have ever an excuse to take 
 land ! Pidar Narayan had a hard fight to keep Bun- 
 2i\?Xkx-sahib'' s grants — the Nawab was ever generous 
 to his favourites, look you — for Anari Begum's baby; 
 ay ! though he showed a writing of marriage, and had 
 made the infant Christian after their habit. Still he 
 got them, land and palace and all. So I stayed on serving 
 my master's child, and when she died, her child, the 
 W\^'s>-baba, even to the haggling for fish. Lo ! slave ! 
 it grows late. Give it to me and have done with it — 
 Thou wilt not. Oh ! for the devil that was in her 
 grandmother Anar to be in this W\^'s,-baba, and for 
 her to come to Bun-avatar-j^/zz/^'j rights as Wazeer — ■ 
 then would there be loppings and — " 
 
 " Or if Roshan Khan should come to his," sneered 
 Gu-gu. " The canal sahib's ayah was telling me thou 
 didst prostrate thyself in the dust as if he were indeed 
 Nawab ! Have a care ! eunuch;/Vr, the police are agog 
 nowadays to find disloyalty even in newspapers." 
 
 ** May her gossiping tongue be slit ! " stuttered the 
 old retainer. **Can a body not do obeisance to his 
 masters } For look you, Roshan is true grand-nephew 
 to the Nawab through his grandmother, Waliddd's wife 
 — ay ! and for that matter, cousin to the Miss, through 
 Anari Begum, Waliddd's sister ! I did but welcome him ; 
 I did but my duty — I did but show my manners — I did 
 but what we have done from generation to generation." 
 He Mioved away muttering, full of virtuous resentment 
 that a suspicion of anything save sheer servility should 
 
 ^ Pension. 
 
 D 
 
 M 
 
34 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 i 
 
 have been imputed to him. After a lifetime of truck- 
 lings and bootblackings, to be credited with higher mo- 
 tives was too bad. To prove his innocence he would 
 that very evening, he told himself, seek out Roshan, not 
 at the Fort, — that might be misunderstood, — but at his 
 grandmother's. His grandmother, who, though she had 
 been upstart Walidad's wife, was still the late Nawab's 
 half-sister ! His sister ! ! What could be nearer than 
 that ! ! ! 
 
 And he would prostrate himself again, and assure the 
 family of his services. That was his birthright. 
 
 Meanwhile Gu-gu looked after him, and laughed. He 
 was a clever fellow, was Gu-gu, and in a previous genera- 
 tion of scholars had been pet pupil in a little school 
 started by another Miss from another Missen. He had 
 got pennies for attending it, which had come in useful 
 before he was big enough to face the river. 
 
 But now he was the best man on either the Hara or 
 the Hari, save one. And he } 
 
 Gu-gu's beady black eyes, watching the curve of the 
 current mechanically, gave a sudden flash. He was on 
 his feet in a second. There was something dipping, 
 diving, sidling, drifting, out yonder which might be 
 secured for his wigwam before anyone else saw it ! But 
 as, silently, like a seal's, his black head came up from 
 his first forge under water which was to give him a fair 
 start from the shore without even a splash to attract 
 notice, another black head showed to the right of him, 
 a yard or two behind. 
 
 But it was Ids head ! Am-ma's head ! Ara-ma, the 
 frog-like, Am-ma, whose wide hands and feet looked as 
 if webbed in the water. Am-ma, the only man who 
 could touch him. He set his teeth, gave up silence, and 
 surged ahead with an overhand stroke, his hand seeming 
 to clutch and hold the water. It was a faster stroke than 
 Am-ma's ; for a time the swifter. Then with a back- 
 ward glance he drew a quick breath, knowing it would 
 be a race indeed, for the black head had gone, and only a 
 faint wale on the smooth water told where his rival, avoid- 
 
DRIFTWOOD 
 
 35 
 
 ing the slight resistance of the air, swam like a fish. 
 Dangerous tactics for most men, ending often in a sudden 
 collapse, bleedings from nose and ears, or, at least, time 
 lost in coming to the surface. But Am-ma was not as 
 other men. Half-witted, except in river lore, uncouth, 
 misshapen, he was practically amphibious. 
 
 Gu-gu ground his teeth impotently as the faint wale 
 crept up and up. The man must have air in his stomach 
 like a fish ! Ah ! if the river had been in flood, if this 
 had been a race with air bladders, indeed, — one black 
 head of inflated skin under each arm, and your own in 
 the middle — the issue would have been certain ; for no 
 one, in the whole tribe, knew the backward rip of a 
 knife from below which would leave a rival helpless, lop- 
 sided, bound to seek safety on shore, so well as Gu-gu ! 
 But it was not flood time, so he must risk all. Like a 
 porpoise at play the curve of his dark back disappeared, 
 and now there were two wales upon the water side by side. 
 
 And ahead, sidling, dipping, diving to the current was 
 a deodar log with the broad arrow of government on it, 
 now visible, now out of sight. 
 
 It was a question of steering ; steering without eyes, 
 steering by instinct, steering by siicer experience of logs 
 and their ways, of the meeting currents of the two 
 rivers and their ways. 
 
 And over against them, to the right across the broad 
 lagoon, were low brick buildings, and a horde of fifteen 
 hundred ruffians with fascines and earth-baskets finish- 
 ing a dam that was to alter the currents, and protect the 
 canal ! They looked like swarming ants in the sunshine. 
 
 The wales were neck and neck now, side by side, 
 straight as a die on the log. Then suddenly, the right- 
 hand one swerved outward. Only a yard or two ; a 
 yard or two nearer to the ants in the sunshine. 
 
 A second after the log swerved also — swerved to the 
 right. The next, two black heads rose silently ; but one 
 of them was two yards to the left of that dancing, dip- 
 ping prize ! 
 
 Gu-gu, breathless as he was, gave an inarticulate cry 
 
 I 
 
36 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 il 
 
 of rage, and shook his fist at the swarming ants. 
 Already their work was altering the currents he had 
 known for so long. Thai" it was possible to allow for 
 this, as Am-ma had done, did not comfort him. He 
 swam back sulkily, his wrath increased by the knowledge 
 one glance had given him, that the log on which his rival 
 was paddling to shore triumphantly bore its broad 
 arrow so lightly, and so near its end, that a little dexter- 
 ous manipulation would have left the runaway un- 
 marked, and so given its captor the right, not merely of 
 ransom, but of sale ! 
 
 Truly, it was an ill world for the poor ! 
 
 But Lance Carlyon laughed, as he lounged over his 
 early tea and watched the river through his field-glass, 
 in a balcony of the fort, dressed in a gorgeous ring- 
 streaked sleeping suit which he could only wear when 
 on outpost duty, as the regiment had tabooed it. In 
 truth it made him not unlike Tom Sawyer's " Royal 
 Nonsuch." 
 
 " The little 'un's got it ! I say ! Bering, I believe I 
 shall like Eshwara. It's — it's — new — don't you 
 know." His eyes rested, as he spoke, on the low, 
 bastioned building, all hemmed in by temple spires, at 
 the very point of the city's triangle, which Erda Shep- 
 herd had told him was the mission house. Truly, he 
 thought, she was in the thick of it ! 
 
 ** New ! " echoed Vincent Bering captiously, " I should 
 have called it old. I thought that sort of thing had died 
 with the pagoda tree." 
 
 " What sort of thing > " 
 
 Vincent nodded tov/ards the palace with an odd, 
 cynical laugh. " That ; it 's ghostly. Boesn't belong 
 to the nineteenth century ! " 
 
 Lance turned curiously. " I said that to — to Pidar 
 Narayan — I can't call him anything else, somehow — 
 when he was showing me over yesterday. And — you 
 know that inscrutable smile of his — he just pointed up 
 to the telegraph wires — they go r:Tht across the garden 
 you know — and said, 'There is half the news of half 
 
UNDER-CURRENTS 
 
 37 
 
 ants, 
 he had 
 ow for 
 He 
 wledge 
 is rival 
 broad 
 dexter- 
 ly un- 
 rely of 
 
 ^er his 
 -glass, 
 ring- 
 ' when 
 t. In 
 Royal 
 
 ieve I 
 you 
 low, 
 es, at 
 Shep- 
 ly, he 
 
 hould 
 I died 
 
 odd, 
 2long 
 
 Pidar 
 
 )W — 
 
 -you 
 
 id up 
 
 rden 
 
 half 
 
 the world over our heads, anyhow.* It knocked me 
 over, I tell you, to think of it ; and by Jove ! Bering, 
 next week when the \^ox^-sahib comes — " 
 
 Vincent Bering laughed boisterously. "There'll be 
 the millennium, of course. Come along, Lance ! It's 
 time we were off to prepare his way. Bashwood wants 
 it done A I. They are going to lay on electric light, 
 and all that. By the way, Mrs. Smith told me to tell 
 you she expected you to breakfast." 
 
 Ten minutes afterwards they were riding over the boat 
 bridge to superintend the laying out of the Vice-regal 
 camp against the coming of the Lord-i-^/z/^^ and his hosts. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 UNDER-CURRENTS 
 
 MuMTAZA Mahal, Roshan Khan's grandmother, lived 
 in a queer little backwater of a house which had eddied 
 itself away from the main stream of the town, and 
 jammed itself against a wall of the palace as if seeking 
 dignity thereby. For all that it belonged irredeemably 
 to the city, and to its evil-smelling lanes. The word 
 house, however, is misleading to western ears, since this 
 was simply a well-like courtyard, with a great wooden 
 bed set in the centre under a miserable attempt at a 
 tree which was used as a clothes-peg, a rack for sauce- 
 pans, and a variety of other domestic purposes. It ful- 
 filled them to the perfect satisfaction of its proprietress, 
 a roundabout old lady, plump as a button-quail, who, 
 when she was not asleep inside the arcaded slip of a 
 room on one side, passed her time on the bed in the 
 scanty shade, keeping company with a sausage-roll of a 
 pillow and a quilt, both covered in faded, greasy silk. 
 As a rule she did nothing save eat pdii ; though some- 
 times, as a favour to Erda Shepherd, who came to read 
 to her once a week, she would give a few more stitches 
 to a knitted comforter which never seemed to get any 
 
 ^ 
 
h 
 
 38 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 longer. It had been begun, indeed, under the auspices 
 of another " Miss," who had returned to England only 
 to die, as so many do, from exposure, and overwork, 
 and homesickness. For the rest, Mumtaza was an arro- 
 gant, yet good-natured old soul, who, despite those tears 
 on her wedding-day, had kept dissolute Walidad under her 
 thumb, and his son also. Therefore, it was one of her 
 pet grievances — and she had many — that Roshan, her 
 grandson, should have defied her authority and entered 
 the army. The great standing grievance, however, was 
 that the ^^ pinson'' she received from Government be- 
 cause her husband had been deported with the Nawab 
 to Calcutta, was not so large as one received by a neigh- 
 bour and gossip whose husband had been hanged in the 
 mutiny! The two old ladies came to loggerheads over 
 their respective claims once a month, regularly, when 
 pay-day came round ; Mumtaza asserting shrilly that to 
 die in a strange country was more painful than hanging, 
 Ashraf-un-nissa contending roundly that if Walidad 
 had had as much respectful affection for his widow 
 as her husband had had for his, he could easily have 
 caused himself to be hanged ; since he had certainly 
 deserved it. 
 
 Whereat there would be war, until some one in the 
 alley, or round the corner did something outrageous, — 
 threw slops over some one, or had twins, or imported a 
 new mother-in-law ! Then, friendly discussion becoming 
 a necessity of life, the big wooden bed would once more 
 hold two old ladies, two roly-poly bolsters, two quilts — 
 also two tongues ! But these confined themselves, for a 
 time, to lesser grievances ; such as the general deca- 
 dence of the age, manifested by the reluctance of young 
 people to obey the old. 
 
 There was, however, no sign of displeasure in the re- 
 ception prepared for Roshan, when one afternoon, im- 
 mediately after his arrival at Eshwara, he appeared to 
 prostrate himself at the feet of age ; at least so he had 
 said in his letter of intimation. Mumtaza Mahal knew 
 her duty towards men-folk better than to show temper at 
 
UNDER- CURRENTS 
 
 39 
 
 once ; knew also the suffocating effect of ceremo'iials. 
 So the tarnished treasures of past state had bee'i dug 
 out of the mounds of Htter heaped up in all four ccirners 
 of the arcaded room, and set about the courtyard. An 
 old elephant-housing covered the wooden bed, and to it 
 Roshan was conducted: his grandmother, despite her 
 best green satin trousers, squatting below, on a mat. 
 
 The young soldier felt and looked thoroughly uncom- 
 fortable. Out of sheer funk of the old lady's remarks if 
 he had appeared m his usual mufti of English tweed 
 and a close-fitting turban, he had reverted to the airy 
 muslins and embroidered smoking-caps of his forbears. 
 He felt chilly, barely decent in them ; and, indeed, the 
 whole environment was absolutely repugnant to him. 
 His grandmother's tramways could scarcely be other- 
 wise to one who had gone ahead by express train like 
 Roshan Khan. Thoroughly well-edMcated, he knew 
 himself to be considered one of the smartest native 
 ofBcers in the army. A first-class polo player, a fair 
 cricketer, able to handle cue and racket, and without 
 equal at the foils, he had for years met Englishmen on 
 equal terms in sporting matters. What wonder, then, 
 that he sat looking inexpressibly bored beside the 
 hookah which was the pride of his grandmamma's heart, 
 in that it had belonged to m^any dead and gone Nawabs } 
 He was simply longing for ^he solace of a smoke, yet he 
 did not dare to use the silvt. ; cigarette case with his ini- 
 tials, *' R.K." on it, which Lance Carlyon had given him 
 at Christmas in return for the fencing lessons. Fortu- 
 nately, however, boredom and yawns are correct during 
 visits of ceremony, so Mumtaza Mahal crossed her little 
 fat hands over her little fat green-trousered legs, and 
 told herself the lad was improved in both manners and 
 looks ; was distinctly more like her brother, the late 
 and sainted Nawab. The fact emphasized her regret 
 that, after a brilliant career in a mission school, a career 
 which must have led to a minor clerkship, her grandson 
 should have taken the unheard-of course of entering the 
 army ! If he could even have gone as the Nawab's 
 
.11 
 
 40 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 grand-nephew, with a dozen troopers or so as following, 
 it might have been bearable; but, as Walidad's extraction 
 barred all claim to noble descent, enlistment meant 
 something very different. The old lady, accustomed 
 to obedience all round, when the dreadful defiance had 
 occurred, ten years before, had called the stars to wit- 
 ness that it was all — that everything was — Pidar 
 Nar^yan's fault ! And then she had fallen a-whimper- 
 ing, knowing right well that but for the latter's inter- 
 cession, she herself would have had no '^ pinson"; since 
 Government bars those who can be proved to be per- 
 sonally implicated in evil doings. And now, as she sat 
 looking at her grandson, the same conflicting estimates 
 made her irritable. Why had Pidar Narayan ever put 
 his finger in the Eshwara pie .^ Yet, without him, 
 where would they all have been .'* Still, he need not 
 have taught the lad to fence, and so turned him into a 
 mean, common soldier. 
 
 Now, whether this was true, whether his skill with 
 the foils had turned Roshan's thoughts towards a fight- 
 ing life, or whether it was simply the result of natural 
 aptitudes that way, the choice of professions had been 
 wise. His Colonel, — of the old school though he was, 
 — had admitted, when pressed, that the young Mahome- 
 ^2iX\y given practice^ might be able to lead the regiment 
 as well as a fresh-joined English subaltern. The newer 
 school, again, playing the Krieg spiel against him at 
 Simla, and finding itself in grips with a genuine gift for 
 tactics, had shaken its head and confessed the hardship 
 of such a talent being barred from finding its proper 
 level. Still it was impossible to legislate for exceptions 
 without upsetting the every-day army apple-cart. 
 
 Roshan himself, being sensible — above all, being of a 
 nation which accepts limitations as a law of God — was, 
 as a rule, satisfied with his future mz7^«r majorship, and, 
 if he was lucky, Aide-de-Camp to the Qiceetiy and a few 
 other titles tacked on to it. Like all natives of India 
 he lived largely on the approbation of his immediate 
 superiors, and this he had without stint ; besides, his 
 
UNDER- CURRENTS 
 
 41 
 
 whole line of thought had become too military for any 
 subversion of rule and discipline to seem desirable. 
 
 Yet the curb made itself felt sometimes ; never more 
 keenly than at his grandmother's scornful look, when, 
 in reply to her catechising, he named his income. 
 
 " Only that ! Bdh ! 'Tis the pay of a coolie ! " 
 
 " *Tis the pay of my rank, anyhow," he replied sulk- 
 ily, "and I cannot expect promotion yet ; the rules — " 
 
 She waggled her be-veiled, be-je welled head cun- 
 ningly. " Rules ! What have rules to do with favour, 
 either for men or women } Lo ! thy grand-uncle, the 
 Nawab, gave twice that to a coachman who had one eye 
 black and the other blue because he fancied him ! So, 
 if thou art in favour, as thou sayest, ask for more. The 
 Huzoors will give it, sooner than lose thee." 
 
 Roshan did not attempt explanation ; he simply evaded 
 the point by asserting that the pay was sufficient for his 
 wants. In a way it was an unfortunate remark, since 
 it precipitated the lecture lurking in the old lady's mind. 
 
 "And for the wife's that is to come } " she asked, not 
 without dignity, — the dignity of age reminding youth 
 that its turn for duty has come. " And for the son's 
 that has yet to be born } Why are these old arms still 
 empty of thy children, Roshan } " 
 
 He had his answer ready ; one that had hitherto 
 baulked even the matrimonial desires of his mother, 
 who, having gone to live with her own people, was 
 backed up by sisters and sisters-in-law. 
 
 "Because the Most High decreed freedom for wife 
 and son." 
 
 It was true. The wife found for hnn as a boy had 
 died in child-birth. 
 
 But Mumt^za had made up her mind to refuse this 
 excuse any longer. Matters were getting desperate. 
 Here was Roshan past thirty, and never a child's voice 
 to soothe the passion which seems to come back, vicari- 
 ously, to Indian women in their old age. She had been 
 brooding over an appeal ever since she had heard that, 
 after ten years* absence, the lad was once more to be 
 
42 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 within reach of her tongue. So she edged closer to 
 him, an almost pathetic authority in her face. 
 
 " That is but the skin of the orange, Roshan ; I take 
 not that as a gift ! There be more wives than one, if 
 the one die, even for the Huzoors whom thou apest. 
 Nay ! Light of the house ! frown not," she continued, 
 in sudden alarm at his look. " I did but mean that thou 
 wert different from thy fathers. How canst help it } 
 Think not the old woman cannot understand. VVas I 
 not young once } Was I not wedded with tears to thy 
 grandfather .-* — on whom be peace ! So I know the 
 heart hath fancies, and thine — listen while I whisper it 
 — is — is for a wife like a mem ! Wherefore not .'* Thou 
 hast seen and talked with them — they have seemed bet- 
 ter to thee than a cow of a black girl ! What then } 
 Have not mems married our people ere now } And with 
 thee," — she looked round quickly, to be certain of pri- 
 vacy, then leant closer still, — " with thee it would be 
 easy — for there is thy cousin." 
 
 " My cousin ? " he echoed stupidly. 
 
 *'Yea! thy cousin, when all is said and done," she 
 repeated, with faint scorn. '* Is not the Miss at the 
 palace Anari Begum's granddaughter } Was not Anari 
 Begum thy grandfather's sister ? If that is not cousin, 
 what is it.?" 
 
 He had known these facts before, of course, but they 
 had never presented themselves to him in this connec- 
 tion. Yet they came instantly, accredited by custom. 
 His cousin ; if so, his wife, if he chose, almost by right. 
 And yet from custom also, he — too sensible not to have 
 gauged the vast difference between his position as re- 
 gards Englishmen, and his position as regarded their 
 wives, sisters, mothers — was conscious of distinct revolt. 
 "Thou shouldst not say such things," he exclaimed 
 almost angrily ; " the WvSi^-sahib — " 
 
 " Miss-i"<3!^/^ indeed ! " interrupted Mumt^za with a 
 forced giggle. " Who knows she is that ? Not even 
 Pidar Nardyan." 
 
 " Wherefore ? " asked Roshan coldly. " Her mother 
 
UNDER- CURRENTS 
 
 43 
 
 closer to 
 
 I ; I take 
 m one, if 
 )u apest. 
 3ntinuecl, 
 that thou 
 help it? 
 Was I 
 ■s to thy 
 :now the 
 whisper it 
 .? Thou 
 med bet- 
 at then ? 
 Vnd with 
 n of pri- 
 /ould be 
 
 le," she 
 J at the 
 )t Andri 
 cousin, 
 
 )ut they 
 connec- 
 custom. 
 )y right. 
 to have 
 1 as re- 
 id their 
 t revolt, 
 claimed 
 
 with a 
 ot even 
 
 mother 
 
 i 
 
 was Bonaventura-jV7///<^'j child and heir. That is cer- 
 tain ; else the Government would not have continued 
 the grants given to him by the Nawab," 
 
 An expression of infinite cunning crossed the old 
 lady's face ; she tucked another budget of pdn into her 
 cheek, preparatory to a lengthy explanation. 
 
 " Not if it was payment for evidence given, by which 
 Government could find excuse for seizing the rest, and 
 sending innocent people to die in Calcutta ? Thou 
 knowest the tale, Roshan.!* How Pidar Narayan said no 
 word when everyone was searching, after Bun-avatdr's 
 death, for Anari Begum, who had disappeared, and how, 
 when the land was being taken, he appeared with a 
 baby, a baptized baby, and swore it was Bun-avatar's 
 lawful heir — that he himself had married them. May- 
 hap he did. But, look you, Anari was in the palace 
 zendtia ere she disappeared. Who is to say she is not 
 thy cousin ♦•.wice over.^ ... I say not that she is, look 
 you, but who can tell. Yet this is certain, Roshan ; she 
 hath Andri Begum's eyes. For I have seen her ; but a 
 month ago the Miss who reads brought her, not know- 
 ing of these tales ; for Pidar Narayan keeps a silent 
 tongue. Her name is Laila,^ and thine Roshan, ^ Is 
 not that a fate } and she hath thy grand-aunt's eyes ; 
 ay ! and thy grandfather's land too ; for would it not 
 have been Waliddd's, if Bun-avatdr had not ousted him 
 from the wazeer-^v^ with singing birds .<* " 
 
 Roshan Khan stood up feeling as if he was being suf- 
 focated. It was ten years since he had had experience 
 of the fine-drawn meshes of vague, almost useless, con- 
 spiracy for which Indian women have such vast capabil- 
 ity ; it was ten years since, with eyes open to his own 
 advantage, he had cast in his lot loyally with the Gov- 
 ernment he served. In that time there had not been 
 wanting — there never is in India — others, less scru- 
 pulous, ready to trade on his connection with a dis- 
 possessed family, and his possible sense of injustice. 
 
 Night, or darkness. 
 
 2 Light, or day. 
 
44 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 w 
 
 He had known how to treat them. But this idea bit 
 shrewdly at a feeling which men of his stamp have 
 inevitably — the desire for a wife more suitable to their 
 own culture than they can hope to find among their 
 own people. He gave an uneasy laugh. " These be 
 dreams, indeed, grandmother. To begin with, Pidar 
 Nar^yan — " 
 
 *' Pidar Nar^yan ! Pidar Narayan ! " echoed the old 
 diplomatist tartly, " Art turned Hindoo, that thou dost 
 count Nardyan ^ the Creator of all } " Then she suddenly 
 clapped her hands together in absolute impatience and 
 anger. " Yet is it true. He is the cause of all ! But for 
 him Bun-a : itar would have been as an over-fried fritter, a 
 burst bladder, a drum on a hen's back ! But for his 
 tea'^hing thee to fence — " 
 
 A quick frown came to her hearer's face. "Teach- 
 ing ! Ay ! but only enough to make me fit for his skill 
 to play with. I know that now. Well ! let him try it 
 again — " Roshan's sudden fierceness died down to 
 sombre discontent — " but that is fool's talk. He is too 
 old. I could not meet him on equal terms." He drew 
 himself up proudly ; yet he felt a vague regret at his 
 own acquired sense of fair play. Below it lay a savagery 
 that could rejoice in revenge at any price, and Mumtaza 
 Mahal, watching him, thought him still more like his 
 ancestors, and nodded approvingly. 
 
 "Think of it, at least, Roshan," she said, "and re- 
 member that it is not as if the girl were a real yncut. 
 Pidar Narayan, for all he is so clever, was put to it to 
 find a husband for the mother, the baptized baby ! He 
 took a poor creature from Martin's school at Lucknow, 
 at last, who could not even speak English like a Hii- 
 zoor — " 
 
 " Because he was Italian and a Catholic," put in Ro- 
 shan, then shrugged his shoulders impatiently. " But 
 thou canst not understand. 'Tis impossible ! Dreams, 
 grandmother, dreams ! " 
 
 ^ NarSyan, in the Hindoo mytholog}', is the creative spirit brooding on 
 the waters. 
 
UA'DER-CURRENTS 
 
 45 
 
 " Dreams come true even when forgotten, and torch- 
 bearers never see their own way," retorted the old 
 lady, ending the discussion with proverbial wisdom as a 
 clincher. *' So think of it, since thoughts cost nothing, 
 and tell no tales." 
 
 Roshan felt as if they did the former at any rate, as 
 he strode back toward the fort, telling himself he would 
 feel better when he had on his uniform once more. 
 This was his metier^ not marriage. The best soldiers, 
 the really great soldiers — he paused, the knowledge 
 that he could never rise to real greatness coming to 
 make him clinch his right hand as if on his sword-hilt. 
 The tempest of revolt which swept through him left 
 him dazed, for he had reasoned the matter out with 
 himself thoroughly, and thought he had accepted the 
 situation, thought that he had realized that his dignity 
 in the regiment under the present system went side by 
 side, and not behind, that of the English officers. Yet 
 hf,re he was at the mercy of something too strong for 
 acquired wisdom. He walked on faster to escape into 
 a more wholesome environment, and by sheer force of 
 will succeeded in driving away all thought of the past 
 interview save a triviality. That was the remembrance 
 that her name was Laila, his Roshan. Light and Dark- 
 ness, Day and Night. A fate indeed. 
 
 As he passed into the courtyard, however, on liis way 
 to the door in the river bastion, a group in its centre, 
 round the old gun, brought his attention back to real- 
 ities, and he went towards it, his slipper-shod feet 
 making no martial clank, this time, on the union-jack of 
 raised paths. The group consisted of half a dozen or 
 so of men listening to something which was being de- 
 claimed, with much gesticulation, by an ash-smeared 
 jogi^ whose wide-pierced ears, distended by conch-shell 
 rings, and transverse bar of white on his forehead, 
 showed him to belong to the sect which claims to have 
 transcendental powers. 
 
 Apparently he had been making the claim, for a young 
 man, whose costume smacked of Western culture, and 
 
46 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LOUD 
 
 whose face was acute, litigious, interrupted him im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " Yea, yea ; possibly thou couldst come over the ob- 
 struction, Gorakh-nath-y>/?; but the question i^ whether 
 the obstruction be legal. Is it not so, Lala Ramanund } " 
 
 Lala Ramanund, whose dress was even more West- 
 ern, and who had a certain air of distinction, due, 
 evidently, to position, assented ; adding, as a rider, and 
 with some contempt, that at present they had only jogi 
 Gorakh-nath's word that any interference was intended. 
 
 Gorakh-nath, a tall, muscular man, naked save for his 
 grass-rope girdle, his wild hair twined and twisted to a 
 tiara, his wild, half-insane eyes telling of drugs, shot a 
 glance of absolute defiance at Ramanund. " Thy name, 
 pimdit-jce, is not likely to give friendly witness to mine," 
 he began, alluding to the fact that they were respect- 
 ively called after the founders of their absolutely an- 
 tagonistic sects, *' and yet methinks thou couldst, 
 seeing — " 
 
 Here Dya Ram, the first speaker, alarmed in his 
 lawyer's soul at the militant tone of the jogi, suggested 
 hastily that they might inquire, say at the gate ; or stay ! 
 there was the risaldar coming ; he must know. 
 
 Once more, as he listened to the question put to him, 
 the expression of his race and creed came to Roshan's 
 face, hiding its culture. 
 
 " Of a certainty ! " he replied haughtily. " The gun 
 belongs to the Fort. It is not to be used as a shelter for 
 — for saints ! " His contempt was palpable, 
 
 " I deny your premise," put in Dya Ram eagerly. 
 *' The gun is the people's by prescriptive right. I can 
 use it if I choose. The Government professes neutrality ; 
 therefore, no one has a right to interfere with my reli- 
 gion." 
 
 Roshan's face was a study. " Lo ! Dya Ram, for thou 
 art my old class-fellow surely, hast gone back to the old 
 beliefs since the days when thou didst sign thyself at 
 the end of thy essays, and in thy books, ' Dya Ram, 
 Agnostic ' ? " 
 
UNDRR-CURRENTS 
 
 47 
 
 Dya Ram gave an uneasy cough. " It is a question 
 of legality — " he began. 
 
 " And of money also," put in a new voice cringingly. 
 **The pilgrims come hither to see the saint, and then 
 bathe. But if there is no saint, many will not come, and 
 I, who have my right on the steps as marker of the caste 
 marks — " 
 
 *' Right ! " echoed the Mahomedan curtly. " Have a 
 care, caste-marker, lest we do not claim the courtyard 
 also." 
 
 Here Ramanund, who had hitherto listened indiffer- 
 ently, took up the cudgels. " That can scarcely be, 
 risaldar-sahib,'' he said; "our pious folk have come 
 hither to perform their offices since time began." 
 
 Gorakh-nath turned on him at once. " Not so, Vaish- 
 nava ! " he said. "Thou and thine know naught of the 
 Beginning of Thngs. Come to us and Holy ^\i\v-jee 
 for that ! Thou art as far from the great wisdom as he " 
 — here he pointed wildly to Roshan — "yea! further, 
 despite thy pretence of purity ! Despite thy hunger 
 yesterday when, returning to thy lost faith, thou didst 
 come here to eat as the twice-born should, and a shadow 
 fell upon thy food ! Despite thy deafness to this world 
 just now," — here he laughed jeeringly, — "which kept 
 thee back from bearing witness to my truth, to the 
 truth of ^\i\\-jees servant ! " 
 
 Dya Ram looked at him, then at Ramanund perplex- 
 edly. " What means he t " he said aside. " Didst thou 
 really come hither } " 
 
 " My wife was dying," replied Ramanund in a low, 
 rapid undertone, "and I — you understand — there — 
 there is nothing certain, you see — and any chance — 
 one goes back at such times — " he broke off almost des- 
 perately in his confession. 
 
 Dya Ram, who had signed himself Agnostic, nodded. 
 He understood what it was to be rudderless in a familiar 
 current, and came to the rescue of his friend's consistency 
 by asserting that any such decision regarding the gun, 
 if one had been made, would certainly be disputed. That 
 
 
4S 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 m 
 
 he and his — though they demurred to its being counted 
 against them for faith in the worshipping of mere matter 
 
 — would, if necessary, carry the case to the High Court. 
 " Carry it to the Court of thy god Indra, if need be, 
 
 Dya Ram," retorted Roshan, and as he strode off he 
 spat deUberately in the dust. That also surprised him 
 faintly, for he had thought he had learnt tolerance of the 
 Hitzoors. So, with a frown and yet with relief, he put 
 his hand on the iatch which would * pen the way back to 
 a less disturbing environment. As he did so, another 
 hand was on it also. The door opened from within, and 
 Father Ninian stood on the threshold barring it ; but 
 barring it with smiles. 
 
 " Ah ! my pupil," he said in English. " I have been 
 listening to your praises from Captain Dering, and from 
 Mr. Carlyon too. He says you are the best fencer in 
 the army. You and I must cross foils again sometime, 
 eh, my pupil.-*" 
 
 Roshan, as he stepped aside elaborately to let the old 
 man pass, drew himself up and saluted. 
 
 " If you please, sir ; but I have learnt new things since 
 
 — since those days." 
 
 His tone made Father Ninian pause to look at him 
 for an instant ; then he replied, "And I have not for- 
 gotten the old ; that makes us equal." 
 
 Roshan gave a little hard laugh as he went in ; if the 
 old man liked to think so, let him. 
 
 But Father Ninian's face as he passed — a black 
 shadow in the sunshine — across the level steps leading 
 down to the river wore a wistful smile. Old and new, 
 he thought. New and old. Senseless, useless words, 
 fit only for humanity to juggle dreams from, since no 
 man knew the unseen beginning, knew the unseen end ; 
 knew even his own birth and death. In the endless 
 band of life, naught came first, naught last, and the 
 things of to-day might be old, the things of yesterday 
 might be new. 
 
 " Margherita I " 
 
 The name came soundless to the priest's lips, and a 
 
 M 
 
VMDER- CURRENTS 
 
 49 
 
 quick flush of youth, and hope, and joy seemed to 
 smooth away the wrinkles of his face. A faint laugh, 
 a happy laugh, went further towards a hearing than the 
 name. It was sixty years ago, nearly, since he had 
 left her. An old story indeed, and yet how new. The 
 new wine of it ran in his old veins, thrilled to his old 
 brain, and took him back absolutely to a palazzo on the 
 outskirts of Rome, with the pale flood of the Tiber flow- 
 ing beneath a marble loggia. He had never looked on 
 running water since without remembrance, and now — 
 his feet having led him unconsciously to the river's 
 edge — he stood smiling at the pale flood of the Hari. 
 For he knew that he had fought a good fig^^, that 
 he had kept the promise he had made in order to still 
 her soul ; that he had kept her bov, Pietro Bonaventura, 
 so far as he could, from harm, and his child, and his 
 child's child, gathering them as lambs into the arms of 
 Holy Church. 
 
 And then something in the last thought drove the 
 tender human smile from his face. He murmured a 
 " Mea culpa, mea maxima ciilpay' bent to the stream, 
 and dipping his fingers in it, crossed himself. 
 
 "May Shiv^^^'.? blessing go with his holy water, 
 Baba-jec,'' said a voice behind him. It was Gorakh-nath 
 the jogi, who, his sympathizers having departed, had 
 come to fill his gourd. 
 
 Father Ninian turned ; so for a space they stood face 
 to face; representatives of the two great supernaturalisms 
 of the world ; the one which has held the West, the one 
 which has held the East. 
 
 The old man's face, at first, returned to kindly human 
 tolerance ; for his fifty years of Eshwara had widened 
 his sympathies. But, as he stood before the jiygi it 
 hardened, and the priestly arrogance of the naked ash- 
 smeared figure, stretching a right hand in claim over 
 the sanctifying power of the river, was reflected in 
 Father Ninian's as he spread his left hand upwards, 
 and turned on his heel with the words, " Vade retro 
 Sat anas ! " 
 
50 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 t _ »' 
 
 THE "DEE-PUK-RAG 
 
 it is — why should you 
 
 " You are tired to death as 
 fuss any more over a pack — " 
 
 **Ssh! sir; don't talk rubbish. I am all right; and 
 Eugene is so anxious everything should be a success 
 that I must. Besides I — I like it." 
 
 Mrs. Walsall Smith sent the hostess' gathering smile 
 round her long luncheon table, and rose. So did Vin- 
 cent Dering, who had sat at her right hand — n position 
 due to his rank as commandant of Eshwara — and, as 
 he did, he drew his chair aside to let the girl on his left 
 pa-s, with his usual somewhat zwyant courtesy, though 
 it was only Laila Bonaventura. He had met her several 
 times during the past few days, and the effect which 
 her singing had made on him had vanished before her 
 general failure to interest him in the least. And to-day 
 she actually wore a blue sash ! In addition she had 
 filled up the time between her monosyllables in method- 
 ically crumbling her bread and ranging the results in a 
 pattern, until the inanity of it had got on his nerves, 
 and he had felt inclined to beg her to desist. 
 
 And yet, as in passing her black eyes looked into his 
 with one curious yet comprehensive flash, a memory of 
 the extreme regularity of the curves and lines which had 
 annoyed him, made him — quite irrelevantly — wonder 
 hastily if he could have said anything to Muriel which — 
 
 He broke off in his own thought impatiently, and 
 gave an apologetic glance after Mrs. Walsall Smith's 
 fragile figure. There never was anything, never ! Never 
 a word said, never a deed done, which all the world — 
 even Eugene Smith himself — might not hear and 
 know. Vincent Dering felt a pulse of sheer virtue as 
 he looked down the long table at his host, with the vague 
 irritation which the possessors of women often arouse in 
 those who are not their possessors. For Muriel Smith's 
 
THE " DEE~PUK-RAG'' 
 
 51 
 
 half-playful, half-wistful rejection of sympathy had held 
 that faint hint of dutiful martyrdom which seems so 
 purely angelic to selfish man — unless he happens to be 
 the wretch who inflicts it ! 
 
 Curious, he thought ; Eugene wasn't much of a gentle- 
 man, but he wasn't a bad sort, and he was fond of his 
 wife, in a way. Yet he was blind to the fact that Muriel 
 was not fit to go trapesing about his blessed old canal 
 works with the pack of padres and people he had got 
 together to do honour to his skill. She would do it, of 
 course, and get through with it, too ! Here he helped 
 himself to a glass of sherry, and felt incoherently that 
 she was the dearest and best woman in the world, — the 
 one woman in the world, so far as he was concerned. 
 
 As he sat between those two empty chairs where 
 those two women, so absolutely unlike, had fenced him 
 in on either side, a faint wonder tinged his virtue in 
 comparing the last three years with the time before it. 
 
 If anyone had told him, then, that he would write 
 every day to a woman and expect her to write to him 
 without a word or a deed — 
 
 " Please, Dering-darlin' " said an imperious small voice, 
 "mum wants '00, 'tos pup'll go off, she says, wis' all a 
 gemplemen, an' she wants '00 to go off wis' a ladies ! " 
 
 "AH right, little 'un," he laughed gladly, finishing his 
 sherry at a gulp, and, ere catching the little mite in his 
 arms, giving himself that smartening pull together which 
 was so characteristic of the man. 
 
 He looked very handsome, very happy, as he came up, 
 with Gladys shaking her curls at him in outrageous flir- 
 tation. 
 
 " How kind ! " said Muriel. " I don't know what I 
 should do without you." 
 
 That was all ; but it sent him off in absolute content 
 to tackle the stoutest lady in the room. 
 
 " If yoii make the move, Mrs. Campbell," he said 
 diplomatically, " everyone will follow, and I know Mrs. 
 Smith is anxious we should start, as it will t J'.e some 
 time to go round." 
 
52 
 
 THE HOSTS OF 771 E LORD 
 
 ':! 
 
 ii 
 
 " Ay ! that it will ! " assented the good lady in a 
 mournful Scotch accent. " 'Deed if it were not for 
 Dr. James — " she glanced fearfully at a tall man in a 
 black frock coat — a man whose patriarchal beard had 
 once been red and was now the colour of a carpet whisk 
 
 — who was buttonholing Father Ninian ; the latter, 
 with his straight slenderness, looking almost youthful 
 beside the other's burly bulk. 
 
 " I wouldn't go if I didn't want to," put in a sharp- 
 featured lady who belonged to another black frock coat 
 
 — a small o*^'^ "You spoil the doctor, Mrs. Campbell. 
 As I tell my husband, I yield to him in spiritual matters 
 
 — the mission, you know, and all that ; but when it 
 comes to realities — the housekeeping, and what we are 
 to eat, and do, and that sort of thing — that is my 
 province." 
 
 Mrs. Campbell turned her fat good-natured face on 
 her neighbour's placidly, " Ay, my dear ; but ye didn't 
 promise to be a wife to Dr. James, an' I did. So, 
 Captain Dering, if you can find my niece — " 
 
 " Miss Shepherd is quite safe, Mrs. Campbell. Carlyon's 
 looking after her," interrupted Vincent, feeling another 
 spasm of sheer virtue. He had seen the two sitting 
 together at lunch, apparently interested in each other, 
 and he had noticed how Lance, on entering the drawing- 
 room, had made his way straight to those coils of red- 
 bronze hair which had a trick of being the most 
 conspicuous point in any group of which they formed 
 part. So Lance would enjoy himself simply ; he would 
 not have to gain pleasure in complex fashion by dragging 
 about 3. posse of uninteresting old ladies, for the sake of 
 a lady who was neither. Vincent's face had a bored 
 look as he began his task by piloting his charge into the 
 verandah, and so on into the open. 
 
 It was hot work crossing the stretch of sand which lay 
 between the bungalow and the red brick abutments of 
 the can?d head ; but once there, with the broad still 
 basin of the united rivers before you, a cool breeze blew 
 pleasantly from that blue barrier of hills with the gold- 
 
 "^^.^^ 
 
THE '' DEE-PUK-RAC' 
 
 53 
 
 spiked temples of Eshwara enamelled against it, and a 
 soft white mist hiding the feet of the far-distant snows ; 
 so hiding the '* Cradle of the Gods " ! The floods had 
 gone, however, and so had the robe of righteousness. 
 The sandbanks lay bare, of the earth, earthy. The logs, 
 too, were no longer dipping and dancing in the currents. 
 Some were piled criss-cross on the spit, awaiting ransom- 
 ers, and a few lay like straight shadows, half in, half out 
 of the receding water. 
 
 "A log ! not a bit of it ! " said someone, stooping for 
 a stone. " Look ! " 
 
 The missile fell far short of the low streak of sand and 
 shadow, but did its work. The shadow disappeared, as 
 a bottle-nosed alligator slipped silently 'into the stre^^m. 
 Most eyes watched it, but Lance Carlyon's turned to 
 Erda Shepherd. He had only met her once, casually, 
 when he was out fishing on the spit, since the day when 
 Father Ninian had introduced them, and they had seen 
 something else in the river that was also not a log. 
 
 "Do you remember," he began impulsively, "the first 
 time we met ? " 
 
 A shadow slipped into her limpid bronze eyes also. 
 " Certainly," she interrupted coldly. " It is not so very 
 long ago — is it .•* " 
 
 She had fenced with his assumption of friendliness 
 more than once already ; feeling vexed with herself, the 
 while, that she should do so. Since what did it matter .!* 
 However much she might regret — and she had re- 
 gretted with foolish unseen blushes as she had lain 
 awake at night wondering what had possessed her — 
 the almost indecent unveiling of realities in that first five 
 minutes, she could not undo it. Besides, she had told 
 herself, he had in all probability forgotten it in polo, and 
 partridge-shooting, fishing, and such things. 
 
 But he had not, apparently ; and he parried her fence 
 with a still more friendly laugh. 
 
 " I didn't mean that, of course ; but we won't talk of 
 it, if you'd rather not. It isn't a very Mark Tapleyish 
 subject, is it, for an afternoon party 1 " 
 
 i 
 
 y 
 
54 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 The blush was to be seen this time. "So I have 
 been thinking myself, Mr. Carlyon, ever since last 
 Wednesday," she began, still more coldly, "and I am 
 sorry — " 
 
 He interrupted her quite cavalierly. " I didn't mean 
 that, either, and you know I didn't. However, we'll 
 leave it alone. So you're not coming to the ball ! Do 
 you know, I think it's an awful pity ; I'm sure you'd 
 dance beautifully. " 
 
 She felt outraged, in a way, and yet she smiled. He 
 seemed so much younger than she was. Younger ; but 
 stronger and more vital. That calm assertion, too, 
 that she knew she was playing feminine tricks with him, 
 had been manly and dignified to quite a crushing degree. 
 She could not hep being at once meek and indulgent. 
 
 "I don't dance, Mr. Carlyon," she said quietly; add- 
 ing, as a rider and salve to her conscience, "I — I 
 think it wrong." 
 
 " I thought you might," he returned, evidently pleased 
 at his own acumen, " but I don't see it that way. Of 
 course if — if you go in for those ideas, you know, you 
 can make it seem — well — awful low; but I — " he 
 paused before even a possible sounding of his own 
 trumpet — "you see I think it's awfully jolly; besides, 
 it's such ripping good exercise, and I have to be careful, 
 I tell you, not to put on flesh. I ride thirteen-four, as 
 it is." His face grew grave over the confession. 
 
 " Is that much } " she said, her eyes caught and held 
 by the splendid figure beaide her. " You are very tall, 
 surely." There was almost a pride in her tone, cer- 
 tainly a tenderness. 
 
 He shook his head. " Not so tall as my people are 
 generally. We Carlyons run to size. My uncle, Sir 
 Lancelot's, six-three, and his son is six-four ; but he's a 
 bit weedy. So when you're only six-one and a half you 
 can't afford to wax fat ; you've got to keep the body in 
 subjection. That's right, isn't it.-*" His pride in his 
 Scriptural knowledge made it impossible for her to be 
 stern, though she felt she ought to be. 
 
THE *' DEE-PUK-RAC' 
 
 55 
 
 " Quite right, Mr. Carlyon," she assented, hurriedly, 
 "but see ! the others have gone on, and I don't want to 
 miss — " She stumbled, in her haste to end the tetc-^- 
 tete, on a loose brick, and for an instant was over-near 
 the edge of the abutment. 
 
 "Take care ! " he said, his hand on hers to give sup- 
 port ; a cool, strong hand, with an insistence in its clasp 
 which seemed to single her out from the world to stand 
 so, hand fast in hand. "You were very nearly over 
 that time," he said, smilingly, as he released her. 
 " Now let's come on, or, as you say, we shall be too 
 late for the fair. Smith's going to show off his elec- 
 tric light in the tents, you know." 
 
 Perhaps it was the slip which had made her dizzy, but 
 she walked beside him feeling as if she were in a dream. 
 And, in truth, the scene which grew upon them as they 
 went on had a strange unearthliness and unreality. She 
 paused, and gave a little gasp of pleasure and surp-ise. 
 " It seems impossible ! " she said. " A week ago, when 
 I was here, it was all sand, sand; and now — " 
 
 Her eyes met the wide, flower-set walks, the stately 
 white palaces of the Vice-regal camp with absolute in- 
 credulity. " Did you do all this t " she asked, doubtfully. 
 " Why, you've made a new world ! " She felt inwardly 
 as if he had, somehow, for her. 
 
 " Oh ! Vincent did a lot of the decorations, you know. 
 He's that sort. We — my fellows, I mean, and Dillon's 
 gaol-birds — dug, and did the dirty work. But it looks 
 all right, doesn't it } " 
 
 It did, indeed, — absolutely and entirely all right. So 
 white, so straight, so disciplined ; even to the very twist 
 on the tent ropes. 
 
 " That peg's out of line," said Lance, pausing sud- 
 denly. " Here, sergeant ! " 
 
 A following had gathered in their rear, bringing up 
 the little procession of Englishmen and women, with a 
 knot of dark faces, and from it a man in dust-coloured 
 drill stepped, and saluted. 
 
 "Two inches, or, say, an inch and a half." Erda 
 
4 
 
 !i 
 
 ! 
 
 56 
 
 r//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 IP 
 
 Ei 
 
 111! 
 
 '? 
 
 ; \l 
 
 1 1 
 
 f ill 
 I' i I 
 
 caught so much in the order given as she walked 
 on. 
 
 Two inches, or, say, an inch and a half ! No more 
 than that wrong in this dream city ; and over yonder ? 
 Her eyes travelled past the snowdrift of the camp, rising 
 against the blue background of wide water, to Eshwara, 
 rising against its background of blue hill. 
 
 " I thought so ; a good inch and a half," said Lance 
 exultantly, coming up with measured strides. " It makes 
 a lot of difference though." 
 
 She looked at him critically. Older by some months 
 than he, full of strong character, almost overfull of 
 strong convictions, she was yet — as women must be 
 until experience of work-a-day life teaches them, as it 
 has taught men, the value of subordination — curiously 
 undisciplined, curiously lawless. And this striving after 
 uniformity impressed her. 
 
 " I suppose you learn that sort of thing in the army," 
 she said, with a new respect. 
 
 He laughed. " I should think so ; buttons and boot- 
 laces all to pattern. It's an awful bore, but it keeps things 
 going. Now, here we are ! Now, you can see properly." 
 
 They stood in the centre of the camp, in front of the 
 huge durbar tent, that wandering throne of an empire 
 fixed and immovable as the stars. In front of them, 
 rising out of a wilderness of roses, blossoming where 
 nothing but sand had shown since the primeval sea 
 receded from the hills, was the flag of that empire, its 
 folds drooping round the mast. And beyond it, past 
 the two brass guns pointing down the long vista, was 
 an avenue of palms, bordered by green grass and beds 
 of flowers, and intersected by broad paths leading back 
 to the solid white squares of the tents. At the farther 
 end, a quarter of a mile or more from the flagstaff, a 
 triumphal arch at the entrance showed, until the palm- 
 leaves cut it short, a legend : — 
 
 (( 
 
 WELCOME TO THE LORD 
 
 and above it, far at the feet of those distant snows, lay 
 
 (IW, 
 
 'ii*.. 
 
THE '' DEE-PUK-RAG'* 
 
 57 
 
 hiding 
 
 the "Cradle of the 
 
 >> 
 
 > 
 
 that wreath of white mist 
 Gods." 
 
 Erda's eyes travelled to it, and from it to the other 
 vistas, similar yet smaller, stretching to the right and 
 left of her. Then to the orderly rows on rows of tents, 
 looking like solid blocks of marble behind her. The 
 whole shut in from the world by a high white wall ; 
 still, silent, empty, waiting for the Hosts of the Lord. 
 A snow-drift facing that mist-drift on the hills. And 
 between them .'' Eshwara, and all that Eshvvara held 
 of evil and of good. 
 
 The dreaminess left her eyes, startled at a band of 
 dark figures which at this moment appeared rounding 
 the corner of a tent — figures in scanty striped cloth- 
 ing with a broad arrow on it ; figures with shaven, close- 
 capped heads and leg irons clanking, as their bare feet 
 threaded through the flowers. And behind them, half- 
 hidden, as ever, under his mushroom of a hat, came 
 George Dillon. He had noticed, as he passed with the 
 others, that the roses were flagging a bit under the hot 
 sun, and had gone back to summon a fatigue party of 
 his criminals to water them. 
 
 '* Bring another go, mate,'* he ordered, as the gang, 
 filing past the flagstaff, emptied their earthen pots ; 
 ** then go back to the road. And be quick. There's no 
 time to lose. The h.OYiX-sahib comes to-morrow." 
 
 They obeyed with grins ; and Dr. Dillon, as he paused 
 beside Lance and Erda, looked after them approvingly. 
 " They like this better than picking oakum, and I've had 
 to set some of 'em to do that, now the digging's done. 
 I shall be glad when this show's over, and we move on." 
 
 " Move ! where } " asked Erda. 
 
 " Where there is work to be done. Miss Shepherd. 
 Satan finds mischief, )'OU know, especially with his own 
 hands." He paused and smiled. " They're a queer lot. 
 Do you know some of them are in a blind funk because 
 they think a percentage of them have to be sacrificed 
 before the water will run." He grew grave again. 
 "Poor devils!" he added, in a softer tone — "as if they 
 
If 
 
 l! I ■ II 
 
 1 IP 
 
 58 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 hadn't paid tribute already. I lost over a hundred last 
 year, what with pneumonia and malaria, but they don't 
 seem to count that — that is the will of the gods. But I 
 say, hadn't you better be going into the tent if you want 
 to see the light-up ? Smith went off to his plant five 
 minutes ago with his gang, so it's about time." 
 
 It was almost pitch dark in the huge tent, and as they 
 slipped in through the closed portieres, Vincent Bering's 
 voice called to them. 
 
 " Be quick, please ; and, Carlyon, tell them to shut 
 down the outer screens. We want to have a real flash- 
 up, and I believe we are all here now." 
 
 Whether that was so or not Erda could not tell. The 
 brief ray of light caused by their entrance had only 
 shown her Captain Bering's figure beside his hostess, 
 and given her a glimpse of Laila Bonaventura's white 
 dress close by. So it was eerie, in a way, to wait in 
 tiKj darkness, knowing it to be full of people she knew ; 
 yet to have consciousness of nothing save their voices, 
 since age, sex, position, even race, were alike awaiting 
 this new light which was to make them manifest. Per- 
 haps the eeriness struck her companions also, for the 
 voices came clearly ; not in a babel, but answering each 
 other in the listening, waiting silence. 
 
 " We are all full of sparks, I assure you, Mrs. Camp- 
 bell." 
 
 " I am weel aware o' it, Boctor Billon ; but it's too 
 much like a brand snatched frae the burning to my taste; 
 for Boctor James will have it — " 
 
 " Undoubtedly, my dear Ann. It appears to me, sir, 
 and I trust it will to you, as a most interesting scien- 
 tific fact, calculated to confound those who scoff at the 
 possibility of eternal punishment in a fire that is not 
 quenched — " 
 
 ** Or to comfort those who believe in a cleansing 
 one — who seek a place in the crown of stars about their 
 Mother's head — who feel the flame of immortality." 
 Its faint hesitancy betrayed this voice, as the dryness 
 did the next. 
 
 t :!l 
 
THE " DEE-PUK-RAG'' 
 
 59 
 
 " If I've got to generate my own heaven or hell, I 
 prefer to pass ; but if one could turn on a fifty-candle- 
 power reflecting lamp during 2^ post mortem or a bacillus 
 hunt, it would be useful." 
 
 " Yes ! Fancy being able to get up at night and see, 
 at once, in all corners of the room if there were snakes ! " 
 
 This brought a laugh till a fragile voice said plain- 
 tively, "That's just the worst of it. When one begins 
 to see things too clearly, they are so apt to be nasty." 
 
 ** That, my dear Madam, has always appeared to me 
 as an additional argument against those who contend 
 that Perfect Wisdom could not wisely have produced so 
 imperfect a being as Man." 
 
 " Surely, Dr. Campbell," interrupted a tart voice, 
 " the necessity for something on which to exercise our 
 faith proves that ; but then I am only a woman. I con- 
 fine myself to realities." 
 
 " Then what a bore it would be if there were no de- 
 lusions ! By Jove ! it would be dull. Who is it says the 
 soul of man lies in his imagination } " Captain Bering's 
 voice could not be mistaken. 
 
 "Just so — and nowhere else." 
 
 This came in an aside, and was followed in the same 
 tone by the eager, hesitating voice. " Scoffer ! When 
 you men of Science spend your lives in listening — to 
 the things which cannot be heard — looking for the 
 things that cannot be seen — Ah! doctor! — you 
 can't impose on me. I know you — I have seen 
 you." 
 
 The very darkness seemed abashed, and there was 
 silence; till a new voice, young, full-throated, broke it. 
 " But how can you tell if things are nasty till you have 
 seen them } — they may be nice. Ah-h-h ! " 
 
 It had come like a creation, flooding all things with 
 irresistible light. 
 
 A sort of sigh made itself heard ; a sigh 0/ vague re- 
 lief. " By Jove ! " said Captain Bering, " it will make a 
 difference to the durbar. As a rule you can't see the 
 diamonds and jewels ; and they arc half the show." 
 
6o 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Palpably there could be no fear of that. To the utter- 
 most corner of the vast tent, the pattern of its lining of 
 shawls was visible ; each boss on the parcel-o^ilt poles 
 glittered and shone ; the very legend round th». arms of 
 England above the Vice-regal chair stood out clear ^^Dieu 
 et mon droits And the expression on the two groups 
 of dark faces, the one which had come by invitation to 
 see, the other which had crept in at the further end, 
 could not be mistaken. In the one, indifference strug- 
 gled with curiosity ; in the other assent was mingled 
 with awe. 
 
 " What are they saying } " asked Lance, who, having 
 come late, stood close to the latter group. " Something 
 about Dce-puk-rdg. What's that 1 " 
 
 Erda shook her head. "Father Ninian will know — 
 he knows all these things — that is why they call him 
 Pidar Narayan, and let him do anything. Sometimes I 
 wonder if it isn't the best way." The last, spoken to 
 herself, was interrupted by Father Ninian's echo. 
 
 "The Dee-piik-rdg ! Why, yes — of course!" He 
 turned to the dark faces in sheer delight. " Yea ! 
 brothers!" he said in Hindustani, "ye are right! It 
 is the Dee-puk-rdg — the sign of kingship. Have I not 
 told ye always that the Lord is with us — and with you } " 
 Then he turned back to his other hearers : " It means 
 the Song of Light — a charm — a spell which the great 
 men of old knew. Is it not so, Ramanund } " 
 
 A half-reluctant voice from the invited replied, " The 
 ignorant say so, sir." 
 
 A faintly sarcastic smile came to the fine old face. 
 "And they believe its possession marks the born ruler 
 of men — the God-sent guide; since, when it is sung, 
 the light comes from the stars to help the world on its 
 way — to dispel the darkness ! Ah-h-h ! " 
 
 It had gone ! and in the black night which settled 
 blankly on speaker and audience, a faint, far cry came 
 from outside. More than one woman's voice echoed it 
 with a little startled gasp of suspense. 
 
 "It is all right!" called Vincent Bering, "the thing 
 
THE ''DEE-PUK-RAG" 
 
 6r 
 
 The 
 
 thing 
 
 is always popping in and out — I've seen it at Euston — 
 it will come back directly." And then, in response to 
 something he alone had heard, he whispered, ** Don't 
 be alarmed; Eugene will set it right in a moment — 
 really — " 
 
 As he bent his head a scent of violets — the scent she 
 always used — assailed him; and that half-heard appeal 
 — " Oh, what is it, Vincent ? " seemed still in his ears. 
 Even in the darkness he knew she must be close to him. 
 He felt the soft ruffle of the lace about her hand upon 
 his wrist. It trembled, surely. Did it } Or was it 
 only his own bounding pulse. A sudden imperious 
 desire to know — to be certain — swept through him. 
 
 Then, with a sort of suffocating rush to heart and 
 brain, came the knowledge that his clasp was answered 
 by that small hand — so small, so clinging, so trustful — 
 so dear — so absolutely dear — so dear! — so very 
 dear ! ! 
 
 As he stood in the darkness, he knew that every 
 mooring was gone, knew that this — this thing — would 
 change — must change — the whole position. It was a 
 light, indeed; a light showing the way — a different 
 way ! A sort of fierce exultation took possession of 
 him. He knew, now, that he had been dreaming till 
 then ; that he had been blind. 
 
 ** Ah ! what a relief ! That dreadful darkness was 
 getting on my nerves," said a calm voice coming to 
 him from out of the flood of white light which seemed 
 to have rent their hands asunder. 
 
 Their hands } — when she stood yonder } He turned, 
 bewildered, to find a pair of grave black eyes fixed criti- 
 cally on him. 
 
 "I_I_-" he began. 
 
 " It doesn't matter," said Laila Bonaventura, with 
 stolid indifference. '* You thought it was her hand, 
 of course. I quite understand." 
 
 Did she.? Did — could — anyone.-* even he himself.' 
 
 God! How content — how happy he had been — how 
 certain — 
 
 t I 
 
62 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 " Dillon ! Dillon ! For God's sake, where's Dillon ? " 
 came an excited voice, as Eugene Smith burst into the 
 tent, bringing the afternoon sunshine to v/ar with that 
 unearthly light. " Come along, man ! There's been 
 an accident in the workshop ! I warned them not to 
 touch — one — a mere boy — did. Got startled, I sup- 
 pose, and fell over — onto the circular saw — it was 
 going. His leg — I've tried a tourniquet, but I can't 
 stop—" 
 
 The remainder was inaudible ; the caller and the called, 
 followed by Vincent, glad of any interruption to the in- 
 tolerableness of his confusion, were already running as 
 for dear life down the palm-set avenue towards the canal 
 workshop outside the walls. 
 
 That it was for death, however, not life, Dr. Dillon 
 saw at a glance ; though, without a pause, he knelt down 
 in the fateful, irresistible tide of life blood which was 
 ebbing and flowing with such awful insistency, and set 
 his teeth in fight. 
 
 Y^t once he gave an upward glance to the long, low 
 roof so full of driving bands and wheels and levers, so 
 full of men's power, so empty of men's passion ; and 
 then a straight one to the circle of ignorant, awe-stricken, 
 dark faces closing in round him. And as he did so, he 
 muttered to himself: — 
 
 " I wouldn't have had this happen for a thousand 
 pounds — and a high-caste man, too!" 
 
 Undoubtedly ; the sacred thread showed on the shoul- 
 der under the broad arrow — for the twice-born are 
 twice-born even in gaol. 
 
 " Lay him on Mother Earth to die, ye of his caste ! " 
 said a voice from behind. It v/as Father Ninian's. 
 His haste had driven the colour from his face ; he stood 
 breathless, yet calm, his right hand raised. In the awe- 
 stricken circle none stirred ; there was no sacred thread 
 upon their shoulders. 
 
 "Give me a hand, please. Dr. Dillon," said the old 
 man quietly ; " he will not die easy there." So, between 
 them, they shifted the slight figure from the wooden 
 
?'» 
 
 ALPHA AND OMEGA 
 
 63 
 
 platform on which it had fallen, to the ground all sodden 
 and stained with that tide of blood. A faint content 
 seemed to come to the half-conscious face ; the head 
 nestled itself into the soft earth as if to rest. 
 
 The circle of dark and white faces fell back alike, 
 leaving the doctor and the priest alone with death, — 
 the doctor with both hands detaining that ebbing tide 
 of life, the priest with the viaticum of another faith on 
 his lips speeding it on its way. 
 
 " Lo ! " whispered some of the circle. " Hark to his 
 * Ram Ram ! ' He knows — Pidar Narayan knows." 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ALPHA AND OMEGA 
 
 Am-ma was fishing. Breast deep in the water, which 
 in the early dawn stretched like a shining shield to meet 
 the pale primrose vestments of the coming day, his bodi- 
 less head and shoulders slid sedately over the surface 
 like some strange kind of wild-fowl ; for his hands, clasped 
 at the back of his curly frizz of hair, held the apex of a 
 conical, reed-distended net, 3haped like a pair of v/ings. 
 His eyes were closed, and, despite all lack of visible 
 movement, the tenseness of every muscle, the strained 
 look of every curve, shovvred that he was on the alert for 
 something; that something, being the first hint of possi- 
 ble prey sent by his hidden feet as they felt, like hands, 
 over the bottom. Felt lightly, buoyantly, with scarce 
 more pressure than the water itself, until, at the first 
 suspicion of a fish lying half-buried in the sand, they 
 would fling themselves air-wards to change places with 
 his head ; and that, with the net twirled dexterously above 
 it, would go down like an extinguisher over the sus- 
 picious ridge or furrow. Sometimes — most often, of 
 course, — they proved to be nothing else ; but some- 
 times, again, there would be a pause, during which the 
 black legs would remain uppermost, and then, once more,. 
 
64 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 the black head would come air-wards with a wriggling 
 fish, held, if it happened to be a small one, in its white 
 teeth. For Am-ma had not been provided by nature 
 with a pouch, like the pelicans who were fishing hard by; 
 and, being absolutely destitute of clothing and pockets, 
 had to sidle sedately to the bank with each prize before 
 seeking another, since both hands and feet were needed 
 for its capture. Otherwise, his method of fishing was 
 little removed from the birds ^ — the net being considered 
 as his beak. If anything, it was the more primitive of 
 the two, since the pelicans fished in companies, drawing 
 a serried line round each likely shallow ; whereas Am-ma 
 had all the distrust of his fellow which marks man in 
 his earliest development. For, even amongst his kind, 
 Am-ma was held to be barbarian ; though. Heaven knows ! 
 the six or seven millions of wild tribes and forest races 
 in India which go to make up its two hundred and 
 eighty, are primitive enough. Those six or seven mil- 
 lions, frankly, absolutely savage, who, as the census puts 
 it, are * not to be specified ' ; remaining, as they do, 
 untouched by either the civilizations or religions with 
 which they have come in contact. Six or seven millions, 
 whose very superstitions are their own monopoly ! 
 
 Some there were among these fisher folk of Eshwara 
 who, like Gu-gu, were faintly leavened with latter-day 
 learning, faintly amenable to latter-dfty standards ; but 
 Am-ma's dull brain was satisfied with what it had in- 
 herited ; which included, amongst oti:er things, sight, 
 hearing, touch, keen almost beyond belief. So he opened 
 his eyes at a sound which, to an ordinary person, would 
 have been as inaudible as the swift coming of sunlight 
 in the sky ; and his sight told him immediately what it 
 was in detail. A canoe was coming down the lagoon 
 with two men in it. Now there was only one canoe in 
 Eshwara, and that belonged to Pundit Ramanund. He 
 had been over the black water, and learnt, amongst a 
 number of other strange new things which were of no 
 use, how to paddle a canoe — his own or another's ! For 
 what good was a canoe when you did not know the sand- 
 
ALPHA AND OMEGA 
 
 65 
 
 banks ? And how could you know the sand-banks unless 
 you swam over them and dived down to them ? Then, 
 if you could do that, what was the good of a canoe ? 
 An air-bag, or even an earthern pot under the pit of 
 your stomach, on which you could lie, was sufficient for 
 all practical purposes. 
 
 Therefore one of the men Am-ma knew must be 
 Ramanund ; the other, by his turban, was a Mahomedan. 
 Did he know the sand-banks ? Am-ma shaded his eyes 
 with one hand, and watched to see. Evidently not ; the 
 canoe stuck here, there, everywhere, yet still came on 
 slowly. But if the occupants wanted — as everybody 
 seemed to want nowadays — to cross over to the other 
 side — that other side where the red brick headworks of 
 the canal showed like a plinth — to those strange, new 
 white tents where the Lord was expected ; then they 
 would find the navigation more intricate. 
 
 Am-ma being conservative inevitably, smiled at the 
 certainty, closed his eyes, and went on fishing ; till he 
 opened them again at a shout. 
 
 " Which way .-* " he echoed, his voice sounding hollo v 
 from its nearness to the water. " By the deep stream, 
 always." 
 
 "And which is that, fool.-*" came Roshan's voice 
 angrily. 
 
 "Where there is most water," returned Am-ma 
 calmly. " Cease from paddling, and the canoe will tell 
 you without fail. Such things know of themselves. 
 They are wise." 
 
 " But we want to get over to the camp as quickly as 
 we can," said Ramanund, interrupting an impatient 
 retort of Roshan Khan's, with an aside to the effect 
 that they had better not alienate their only hope. The 
 river was lower than he had expected, or he would never 
 have suggested crossing in the boat, as quicker than the 
 bridge ; yet there was not time to go back. 
 
 Am-ma smiled cunningly. " None will get quicker 
 than he can, my masters ; that much is certain." Be- 
 ing pleased with his own wit, he laughed, and kicking 
 
 i 
 
 •1'*i 
 
m 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 up his heels, ducked his head, to come up again a few 
 yards nearer in shallower water, where he could stand 
 and salaam. 
 
 "The noble people," he said gravely, "must surely 
 follow the stream if they go in company ; but if they will 
 quit comfort, and wade, carrying their boat here and there, 
 I, Am-ma, will show them. But it is annoyance. With- 
 out going with the stream there is always annoyance." 
 
 "It is ^ "ttcr • lan going back or sticking still, any- 
 how!" rer •'.;:,. Roshan Khan to his companion ; add- 
 ing in Hina- ■ ' — "Then come quick — there is room 
 for thee and i..y ne "nd we will pay thee." 
 
 Am-ma shook his head. " There is weight enough for 
 difficulties without me, my masters ; and here or there 
 is one to a fisher." So saying, he closed his net with 
 one dexterous twist, slipped his arms through it so that 
 it hung behind his back, and struck across the shallows. 
 
 "Yonder is our aim," he said briefly, pointing to a 
 blue thread of smoke rising from the water's Gd.go. a 
 good way down stream. "They burn a dead man there 
 to-day ; it is ever a good guide to the living." 
 
 " 'Twill be the Brahmin lad the Ihizoors killed by 
 mistake with their Dee-puk-rag. Didst hear the tale .•* " 
 asked Ramanund. Why, he would have been puzzled to 
 tell, since he had no definite desire to foster ill-feeling 
 or fear; but it had been the talk of the town till those 
 small hours which end gossip, even in India, and the 
 talk had confirmed the theory, which so many of his 
 kind hold firmly, if vaguely, that the mass of the people 
 feel the English rule to be unjust. 
 
 But Am-ma was not of the people. He was of the 
 six million and odd barbarians. He turned, showing his 
 broad white teeth in a grin. "Ay! 'Twas well done. 
 Now, as in old days, folk will know who is true leader." 
 There was no doubt, no fear in his mind. Had not his 
 tribe always, of old, chosen as its chief and God the 
 man who could hold a torch in each hand at arms' 
 length, one lighted, the other unlit, and bid the flame 
 pass from one to the other seven times } And as for a 
 
ALPHA AND OMECA 
 
 ^7 
 
 man's life, was it not always expedient that one should 
 die for the people upon occasions ? 
 
 Ramanund frowned ; perhaps because Am-ma con- 
 cluded by ordering the crew out of the boat, and the 
 water was cold. It could scarcely have been anything; 
 else which brought annoyance, since he, like most of his 
 kind, prided himself on being truly a British subject. 
 
 So, paddling and pushing, wading, and even carrying, 
 they crossed from shallow to shallow, from sand-bank to 
 sand-bank, led by Am-ma, swimming and diving like a 
 duck, or walking on ahead unconcernedly, his eyes fixed 
 in keen-sighted approval on that group close to the 
 water's edge, towards which he steer J. 
 
 Yet it was a gruesome group, in tiut , which circled 
 round that solitary and still more gi acsorne figure in the 
 centre. A figure squatting like ihe rest (since, when 
 wood is dear, funeral piles must bt restricted) in full 
 view, yet mercifully obscured for the most part by the 
 heavy column of smoke which rose straight to a level 
 with the leaping flames, then, tilting sideways before 
 the intermittent breeze of early dawn, drifted westward, 
 to hide those white tents upon the horizon. 
 
 "Above or below, fool !" called Ramanund, sharply, 
 as they neared the shore. " I am no Dom, like thou, to 
 choose my way among dead men's bones." 
 
 The allusion to the semi-aboriginal tribe who earn 
 their livelihood by streaking the dead, brought a frown 
 this time to Am-ma's face. 
 
 ** I am no Donty either," he retorted, "and were I one, 
 thou wouldst be glad of my guidance to the fire some 
 day, Pundit;;V^ ! " Roshan Khan listened with the whole- 
 hearted contempt of his race and creed. " Be quick, either 
 way," he said, scornfully. *' We have bare time, as it is." 
 
 Yet he, also, swerved from that gruesome group, 
 which, as the two — dressed as Europeans, save for 
 their turbans — stepped ashore and hurried off in the 
 direction of the camp, stood up in a linked semi-circle to 
 salaam; then squatted again with a clank of leg irons. 
 
 Am-ma, his task over, had paused in the deeper water, 
 
 . i, n 
 
 
68 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 m 
 
 and was once more sidling sedately. The sun had risen 
 with the inconceivable swiftness with which it rises from 
 a dead-level, treeless plain, and shone reddish-yellow, 
 like a fire, on his wet skin. The shadow of that dense 
 column of smoke sidled sedately on the water also, shift- 
 ing with the shifting spirals of the reality. 
 
 "Had he spilt blood.-*" asked Am-ma, suddenly, as 
 that something, half-hidden in the smoke, seemed to dis- 
 solve, sending a great fountain of sparks, bright even in 
 the sunlight, up into the air. 
 
 One in the semicircle clucked denial. 
 
 "A jogi — they say of Gorakh-iic th's monastery — 
 had him for disciple. And there was dhatoora in the 
 sweetmeats, for sure. Whether he was strangler, God 
 knows ! Perhaps. Yet such travellers deserved poison ; 
 who but a fool trusts a strange hand ? " 
 
 A big man at the end of the semicircle, who had a 
 sinister face despite his good conduct badge, looked 
 round hastily to where, a little distance off, the two jail- 
 warders in charge were dividing a' smoke on the sly with 
 swift mysterious bubblings ; then lowered his voice. 
 
 •'Ay! none but fools; and he — " (a nod towards 
 that thing in the centre which was now dying down to 
 red embers pointed his meaning) " is the first ; not the 
 last. I, Gopi, gosain} say so. Let fools wait and see. 
 Wise men will not." 
 
 There was a clank of leg irons as if some stirred 
 uneasily. "Thou canst talk," murmured a voice. 
 "When thy 'tucket' (ticket of leave) — God knows 
 how got! — is so nigh." 
 
 Gopi smiled comfortably. " Ay ! To-morrow, and 
 the next day, and the next. Then, once more, purifica- 
 tion in the Pool of Immortality. Once more, sanctifica- 
 tion at the 'Cradle of the Gods.'" He cast his eyes 
 upwards unctuously, like an Eastern Chadband, so 
 rehearsing the part ^f piety he meant to play once more 
 on his release. 
 
 Am-ma nodded his bodiless head cheerfully. " There 
 
 ^ Another kind of religious mendicant. 
 
THE WORLD'S DESIRE 
 
 69 
 
 will be no Pool of Immortality for the pilgrims this year. 
 So Gorakh-nath says. The canal will drain the spring. 
 But then, he is angry at being turned out of his gun. 
 The people will not give so much — that is it ! " 
 
 The gos,ains face lowered at the news. " Turned out } 
 Who hath done it 1 " 
 
 Am-n\a's eyes were closed, for his feet had found likely 
 ground ; he paused a second, tensely alert — 
 
 •'He who comes," he said, suddenly ; "the Master." 
 
 As he spoke, the quick thud, followed by a lini;ering 
 reverberation of the first saluting gun, told that the 
 Viceroy of India v/as entering his camp. 
 
 " The Lord hath come ! " said the circle of prisoners, 
 in awed tones. 
 
 All save Gopi, the gosain. He sneered. ** The Lord- 
 sahib. Ay ! he may be that — but the Master — no ! " 
 
 Am-ma gave a contented little chuckle. 
 
 " He killed tJiaty anyhow," he said nodding again, 
 " and he hath the Dee-puk-rdg. Is not that enough for 
 poor folk } " Then his feet, feeling something far out 
 of sight in the still deep waters, came air-wards, and his 
 head went down. 
 
 When it came up again, the gang of prisoners were 
 being filed back to gaol, leaving the still glowing embers 
 of what had been a man to send a clear blue smoke into 
 the clear blue sky. 
 
 " They have the Dee-puk-rdg — that is enough," 
 murmured the fisher to himself as he slid with the 
 stream. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE world's desire 
 
 The Viceroy's camp was no longer a city of dreams. 
 
 Its silence had gone, lost in that indefinable sense of 
 sound which seems to come from the heart-beats, even, 
 of unseen humanity ; and the whiteness, the | irity 
 of it, was stained and smirched by the scarlet-as-sin 
 
70 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 coatees of the innumerable orderlies, who bustled about 
 from tent to tent, with huge files of references, or 
 lingered at the tent doors extorting shoe-money from 
 the native visitors, who came in shoals to plead for pat- 
 ronage from one or another of the bigwigs belonging 
 to the Hosts of the 'Lovd-sa/iib. Groups of these 
 petitioners, awaiting their turn for an interview, were 
 to be seen at most tents ; but they stood in crowds 
 round one, in which the Commissioner of the Division 
 was making the final arrangements for the coming 
 diirbai% in consultation with the Under Secretary to 
 Supreme Government. It was a difficult task, involving 
 as it did the classification of the aristocracy, plutocracy, 
 and democracy of India, in one generally satisfactory 
 Court-guide. 
 
 **It cann't be done in this wurrld," remarked the 
 Commissioner, in one of those suave, plastic, Cork 
 brogues which might be made of Cork butter from the 
 softness and lack of friction they bring to the English 
 language. "An' what's more the Archangel Gabriel 
 couldn't do it in heaven, though he'd have a better 
 chance ; for the Cherubim wouldn't be wanting seats at 
 all ! We are bound to displease somebody, so let's cast 
 lots before the Lord ; it's Scriptural, annyhow." 
 
 The Under Secretary looked a trifle shocked, being 
 unacquainted with the Commissioner's methods. 
 
 "But we must, — " he began. 
 
 The other's keen face looked up from the lists for 
 a second. ** Of course we must — we govern India 
 practically, by cane-bottomed chairs. Ye remember 
 old Gunning. No ! — before your time, I expect ! 
 Well ! he kept two hundred miles of North-West 
 frontier as quiet as the grave, for five years, by the 
 simple expedient of awarding thirteen seats in his 
 divisional du7'bar\.o each of his districts, and only taking 
 twelve chairs with him into camp. The mdliks, you 
 see, never could tell which would be chosen odd man 
 out, an' the fear of it kept 'em like sucking doves." 
 
 *' Indeed ! " remarked the Under Secretary, fidgeting 
 
THE WORLD'S DESIRE 
 
 71 
 
 with his lists resignedly, for he was under the impres- 
 sion that time was being lost. " I'm afraid that sort of 
 thing wouldn't answer nowadays." The elder man 
 looked at him gravely; just one short glance, as he 
 dipped his pen in the ink and went on writing, revising, 
 referring. 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! They'd send down to Whitoway 
 Laidlaw's and get Austrian bent-wood chairs by value 
 payable parcel post ! The Teuton, sir, is ruinin' British 
 prestige by chcapenin* the scats of the mighty. There ! 
 that's done — block A's beautiful entirely. Now for 
 block B. Who's your favourite, and why are you backing 
 him > " 
 
 Once more the junior appeared a trifle shocked. 
 "With reference to Roshan Khdn," he began. "His 
 Excellency desired me to ask whether it might not be 
 possible to give him a step for being, as it were, in his 
 own division. He belongs to Eshwara, I believe." 
 
 "The very reason why he cann't get an inch more 
 than his due. But you can tell H. E. that I've settled 
 it. I've asked Bering to put him on duty, an' when he 
 is in uniform there's no mistaking his place. And then 
 we'll ask him in to the reception afterwards with the 
 sahib logiie. Who's your next — Dya Ram ! what, the 
 little pleader .^ — Why the blazes should he come to 
 durbar? — attorneys don't go to St, James." 
 
 " Mr. Cox, the member of parliament — perhaps you 
 may remember him — " 
 
 " A little red-haired fellow, was he } who wrote a 
 book about India on the back of his two-monthly return 
 ticket .? " 
 
 " Mr. Cox is a man of great influence with his party, 
 and he supports Dya Ram's — " 
 
 'Pestilential little fool," interrupted the Commis- 
 sioner impartially, impersonally. " It wouldn't be bad, 
 though — stop his scurrilous tongue for a bit. Favour 
 does, you know. But I cann't see my way to i' Old 
 Hodinuggur would be refusing his ^atta and pdn jgain. 
 
 1 The ceremonial hospitality offered at levees. 
 
 I 'I 
 
li! 
 
 ^^:i 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 M 
 
 72 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 He did it once, ye know, when some low-caste fellow was 
 within sight of him. Said he didn't eat with sweepers ; 
 and if Crawford — he was Commissioner at the time — " 
 
 "Yes! " said the Under Secretary, still more resign- 
 edly. He had not yet grasped the fact that his coad- 
 jutor talked while he worked — 
 
 *' Hadn't been six foot four and broad in proportion," 
 went on his tormentor imperturbably, "so that the — 
 let us call them the subsequent negotiations — diplomatic 
 negotiations — it sounds well ! — didn't reach the eye of 
 His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor, the Thakoor — 
 one of our best men let me tell you — would have got 
 into trouble — more'd have been the pity." 
 
 " Yes," assented the man of Secretariats, " but about 
 DyaRam — " 
 
 " Dya Ram, is it now .'' Could we put him in under 
 the head * benevolence ' think you } Did he ever vac- 
 cinate a baby, or breed a horse, or give anything to 
 a female hospital } No ! Then the devil fly off with 
 him for complicating the problem of British rule in 
 India. Why should he want to 'Ome to durbar at all } 
 When people change their dress they should change 
 their desires, but the only effect our civilization has upon 
 some men I know, is to make them want to keep their hat 
 and their boots on at the same time ! Well, that's done ! 
 I've found a place for him where Hodinuggur can't see 
 the tail end of him unless he squints. Now — who's 
 your next ? " 
 
 While this sort of thing was going on inside the tent, 
 Dya Ram and the Thakoor of Hodinuggur were in full 
 view of each other, outside it. The former, having 
 scorned the sinful scarlet coatees even to the point of 
 refusing to have his patent leather shoes dusted, was 
 walking up and down in English fashion. The latter, in 
 a wonderful parcel-gilt coach, was awaiting the effect of 
 his ten-rupee tip with perfect patience and serenity ; 
 whde his retinue, which consisted of a dozen ragged 
 retainers carrying lances festooned with tinsel and yaks' 
 tails, stared contemptuously at the two sentries pacing 
 
 
 
THE WORLD'S DESIRE 
 
 73 
 
 
 up and down below the flagstaff ; who — to tell truth — 
 seemed so monotonously part of the general show as to 
 suggest that they were also under the charge of the two 
 yellow-legged policemen who stood on either side of the 
 rose-bed, 
 
 It was high noon, and the various departmental gongs 
 had begun to give their version of the meridian, with 
 that unbiased disregard for that of their neighbours 
 which makes the time of day an absolute uncertainty in 
 a big cpmp. But it was calling time evidently; for two 
 superb red-coats, blazoned with gold, appeared in 
 company with two big books and a silver inkstand, and 
 disappeared with them into the durbar tent. And shortly 
 afterwards an aide-de-camp sloped over to it, yawning. 
 
 Both Dya Ram and the Thakoor knew that this 
 meant preparation for those, who, having the entree to 
 the Government House, had the right to put down their 
 names in those big books ; but the fact itself affected 
 their two types very differently. The old Rajput's visit 
 of ceremony was of another sort. He, obeying definite 
 orders, would come at a specified time, and get his speci- 
 fied salute with his compeers. But Dya Ram was like 
 the wild tribes in one way ; he was unspecified ! He 
 was neither fish nor fowl, flesh nor good red herring. 
 
 So, as he watched a young Englishman drive up in a 
 bamboo cart, dash into the tent, and dash out again as 
 if the place belonged to him, he felt aggrieved. He 
 even went so far as to formulate his grievance in mental 
 words, and then these appeared to him so apposite to a 
 leading article, that he took out a note-book, and, after 
 some corrections, stored away, for future use, the asser- 
 tion, that * the time will conic luJicn the colour of the hand 
 which holds the pen will be no bar to its writin(![ its name 
 in the Book of } ' He did not feel sure of the qualita- 
 tive noun, and after trying Fate, Fame, Life, and Lord, 
 left a blank instead. 
 
 Meanwhile carriages and dogcarts of all sorts had be- 
 gun to drive up, their occupants disappearing into the tent 
 for a second or two, then coming out with the smile of 
 
74 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 the elect on their faces. Father Ninian was one of the 
 first, resplendent in a new soutane and sash, with Ak- 
 bar Khan in his orderly's get-up, oscillating between a 
 palsy of delighted servility, and a catalepsy of dignity ; 
 the one for his superiors, the other for his equals. 
 
 And, after a while, in one of those mysteriously non- 
 descript four-v/heeled vehicles that defy classification, 
 but may be said to come under the head '' pJiittoti " 
 (phaeton) of which mission people seem to have a 
 monopoly, came good Mrs. Campbell and her niece, 
 Erda Shepherd ; the former full of indignant, yet meek 
 alarm, because Dr. James, having come across an old 
 friend further down the avenue, had bidden her go on 
 and write his name as well as her own. 
 
 " I ken vveel how it will be," she asserted to her niece, 
 "for I havena brought my specs, an' a body cannot but 
 be nervous with a young man in a scarlet coat glower- 
 ing at them ! I shall put the doctor into the wrong 
 book ; for, you see, I canna write the two names ane 
 after the ither like a marriage lines ; for there is one 
 big bookie for the women, and one for the men-folk, like 
 a Puseyite chapel ! Ay ! an' for the matter o' that, 
 like a divorce court — and I sou'd never hear the last 
 o't if I evened the doctor to myself ! " 
 
 " Let me do all three, Auntie," said Erda, with a 
 laugh, as she got out of the carriage. " Really, there's 
 no need for you to come, — I'll be back in a minute." 
 
 The blaze of sunshine blinded her for the darkness of 
 the tent, and she could scarely tell whose hand it was 
 which sti etched itself frankly, eagerly, for hers as she 
 entered. Yet, even through her glove she knew the 
 touch, before Lance Carlyon's voice said joyfully, — 
 
 "Come to write your name .<* I've just written mine. 
 Funny our hitting off the same time, isn't it V 
 
 The tone of his voice, joined to that startling recog- 
 nition of his touch — which she could not conceal from 
 herself — made her shrink, as if from actual intrusion. 
 "I have to write my uncle's and aunt's first," she said 
 coldly. "There was no use in us «// coming in." 
 
THE WORLD'S DESIRE 
 
 75 
 
 She walked on as she spoke to where the two books lay 
 on a sort of lectern, while the aide-de-camp, seeing the 
 visitor was a lady, came forward politely to assist. 
 
 " Not that book, Mansfield," remarked Lance, coolly. 
 "Miss Shepherd wants — Miss Shepherd, will you allow 
 me to introduce Captain Mansfield ? — to write her uncle's 
 name first." 
 
 She looked back at him almost angrily, full of resent- 
 ment at his persistence ; but, even in the scmi-blindncss 
 which was still hers, his face showed too kind for that ; and 
 as, at that moment, another lady came in with a flutter 
 of laces and ribbons to appropriate Captain Mansfield's 
 ready services, Erda had to allow Lance to find her a pen. 
 
 "That's right! Now for the other book," he said. 
 The aide-de-camp had by this time gone to see the laces 
 and ribbons back to their carriage, so the two were alone. 
 
 "Your aunt's first, you know." There was a suspi- 
 cion of friendly chaff in his tone, this time, but it was 
 gone in a minute as he went on quickly — " Erdmuth ! 
 
 — is that your name .-* Why ! — it means earth-mood 
 
 — or — or world's desire, doesn't it.-*" 
 
 She felt herself flush. " I did not know that you were 
 such a German scholar," she replied, sarcastically. 
 " Yes ! my name is Erdmuth Dorothea. I was called so 
 after — after some one you most likely know nothing 
 about, Countess Zinzendorf. She was famous enough, 
 though, — " she paused, feeling savagely desirous of 
 snubbing him — " But I daresay you never even hap- 
 pened to hear of Jean Ziska, Mr. Carlyon } " 
 
 He smiled suddenly, broadly. "Jean Ziska!" he 
 echoed. "Rather! We had a pony called Ziska at home 
 
 — a Hungarian — used to eat thistles like a donkey ! " 
 He stopped to laugh, and she was about to turn and 
 
 rend him, when he continued, half apologetically, " Of 
 course I have ' — only the name, you tje, brought back 
 such jolly old cimes. Ziska was the beggar who had his 
 skin made into a drum when he was dead. I don't ex- 
 pect it's true, but it's a fine tale ; the drum ecclesiastic 
 with a vengeance, and no mistake! " 
 

 76 
 
 THE HOSTS OF 7 ' :T LO.-^D 
 
 t I 
 
 " Oh ! but It is," interrupted the girl, forgei.r.ing tier 
 annoyance in her eagerness. " My grandiather — v. e are 
 really Moravians, you see, and our name should be 
 Schaeffer, — saw it when he was a child. He used to 
 tell me that people said if it was beaten, everybody 
 must—" 
 
 Bui. Lance's attention had wandered. He was •cok- 
 ing at her signature with a curious, almost wistful smile. 
 " Erdmuth ! " he repeated thoughtfully; then turned to 
 her. " I say ! you really ought to come to the ball with 
 that name — do ! " 
 
 He was simply, she told herself, the most distractingly 
 irrelevant, yet at the same time the most appallingly direct, 
 person she had ever come across. "Really, Mr. Carlyon," 
 she began, with such heat that the aide-de-camp, return- 
 ing, stared ; until Lance coolly asked him if he didn't 
 think Miss Shepherd very unkind not to come to the 
 Bachelor's Ball } Whereupor he, having by this time 
 had enough of laces and ribbono, and begun to recognize 
 a distinct charm in the glistening coils of hair, half-hid- 
 den by a wide hat, promptly asked her for the pleasure 
 of a dance. 
 
 Erda looked from one to the other aghast, and to her 
 own intense surprise fell back upon the woman's all-em- 
 bracing excuse, ** I — I really haven't a dress." It seemed 
 the simplest and easiest. 
 
 " Oh ! anything does for a fancy ball," persisted Lance, 
 argumentatively, as he followed her out. " A tailor in 
 the bazaar would run you up a Greek dress in no time, 
 and it would do awfully well. All white, don't you 
 know — " his voice slackened and grew soft, as if he 
 saw what he described, and the sight made him glad — 
 *'all straight folds with a little Q.<\g^ of red-gold like — " 
 he paused, then went on boldly — " like the sunshine on 
 your hair. And red-gold bracelets high up on your 
 arms — and a red-gold apple in your hand — the World's 
 Desire — " He stopped abruptly, with a quick catch 
 in l^is breath, startled at his own words. 
 
 And she, too, he) J her breath before the vision ; for 
 
THE WORLD' ^ DESIRE 
 
 77 
 
 for 
 
 she saw it also. Saw herself, as he had described her, 
 and the glamour of it, the desire of it, assailed her, body 
 and soul. 
 
 Yet she made a desperate, a passionately resentful ef 
 fort to ignore them. " I didn't know you were so well 
 up in chiffojis, Mr. Carlyon," she said, with a forced 
 laugh. " Did you ever think of setting up a milliner's 
 shop.? One is bad)} needed in Eshwara." 
 
 But the glamour of it had come to Lance Carlyon like 
 a revelation, and the blood was leaping in his veins. "I 
 will, if you — " ne began. 
 
 She scarcely recognized his voice in one way. In 
 another she knew it must be his ; for all the vitality and 
 strength, the single-mindedness and simplicity which she 
 had seen in him so often, were crowded into it ; brought 
 into it by fancy, concentrated by a mere suggestion — 
 of herself. 
 
 The magic of this seemed to encompass her ; she 
 sought shelter from it recklessly. 
 
 " I .-* " she interrupted. "I don't go in for tha*^ soi^t 
 of thing, Mr. Carlyon. You seem to forget my work — - 
 work which I value above — milliners ! Try Mrs. Smith 
 — there she is coming in her victoria ; she is cu' cf t'lC 
 best-dressed women I ever saw." 
 
 She could not certainly have looked bette* iiian she 
 did as, seeing Lance Carlyon, she calh.d to him as her 
 carriage drove up. 
 
 "Do you know where Captain Dering is."* He 
 promised — " 
 
 Here Lance, with guilty haste, interrupted her. He 
 was just about to drive over and give her a message. 
 Dering had had a touch of tjver; he had been over 
 at the palace arranging about the Chinese lanterns for 
 the decorations till late the evening before, and — 
 
 " He might have sent a little sooner," put in Mrs. 
 Smith. " I have been waiting ; he said he would drive 
 me in his dogcart." There was no vexation, only an 
 almost pathetic surprise in her \ .. ice ; and Lance looked 
 guiltier still. 
 

 78 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry — it's all my fault — I was late to 
 begin with, and then — " He glanced at Erda involun- 
 tarily, — compromisingly, it seemed to her. 
 
 " I am afraid I kept Mr. Carlyon," she said, haughtily ; 
 •* most unwillingly, I assure you. Thanks so much, but 
 I can get in quite well by myself." 
 
 As she drove off, however, her head was in a whirl ; 
 and as, when pausing to pick up Dr. Campbell, the whole 
 panorama of the camp, the hills behind it, the distant 
 temples of Eshwara, the busy place-seekers in the fore- 
 ground, the scarlet-sin-stains of the chuprassies coats 
 against the dazzling whiteness of the tents, lay before 
 her, one of those rare, incomprehensible moods came 
 upon her when the soul retreats into its spiritual body, 
 so that the sight grows clear, the touch keen, and you 
 can feel the round world spin beneath your feet, see 
 the shadow of earth stretching far among the stars. 
 
 The World's Desire ! What was it } 
 
 Brought up to believe that the heart of man — that 
 mainspring of the spinning ^ orld — was vile, she had 
 never asked herself why this was so. She had read the 
 story of Adam and Eve with unquestioning faith, yet 
 never sought to know what had changed the good to evil. 
 
 But now, as her eyes rested on those far-distant peaks 
 with that fair:t mist about their feet hiding the "Cradle 
 of the Gods," and followed, as far as the eye could fol- 
 low in the nearer hills, the climbing track worn by the 
 weariness of that eternal search after righteousness, 
 she asked herself what it was which kept mankind so 
 long U[)on the road ; asked herself, for the first time, 
 what mat hrot sin had been which had lost Paradise. 
 
 No l:J,ck of oesire after salvation, surely. Generation 
 on generation ol' Eastern pilgrims had worn that path 
 out of the- sheer rock, had agonized after good, and re- 
 mained evil. A little shudder of memory ran through 
 her at the : bought — how evil! And now the West, 
 with its white tents, its white face, its white creed, had 
 come to show a newer, a better way. 
 
 Had it } But what had it done for itself t She had 
 
 
 
THE WORLD'S DESIRE 
 
 79 
 
 worked for two years in London ere coming out to 
 India ; and another shudder of memory swept over her 
 of what she had seen there. 
 
 The World's Desire ! Lance Ca lyon had called her 
 that — a woman with a red-gold apple in her hand. 
 
 The sound of angry dispute brought her back to 
 realities. They were passing out of the camp under 
 the triumphal arch, and one of its scntrie^ was bar- 
 ring the entrance of an ash-smeared figure which was 
 brandishing a stamped petition paper, as if it had been 
 a card of admission, and yelling excitedly for "Justice! 
 justice ! " 
 
 " It is that pernicious fellow, Gorakh-nath," remarked 
 Dr. Campbell, sententiously. " He wishes, no doubt, to 
 appeal against Captain Dering's order, of which I, for 
 one, am heartily glad. A Christian government is 
 bound to refuse sanction to the practice of a faith 
 which, it is impossible not to see, is degrading in the 
 extreme to those who hold it." 
 
 Erda's eyes were still clear ; clear with what those 
 who do not see, call dreams. 
 
 "Yet it seeks what we do — peace — forgiveness — 
 the cradle of the goodness, the innocence it left behind — 
 somehow." 
 
 Dr. James Campbell turned to her in dignified, 
 amazed displeasure. "May I ask what has caused — " 
 
 "That's easy tellin'," interrupted Mrs. Campbell, 
 comfortably. " It's yon hat with feathers, when she is 
 accustomed to a pith one. An' she standin' in the sun 
 talkin' to Pir. Carlyon ! It's just got to the lassie's 
 head. I was the same myself when I was young, Erda ; 
 but Dr. James thought it a duty — " 
 
 " And so I do now, my dear," put in her husband. " It 
 is a distinct duty on the part of mission workers to take 
 every precaution, and if her head is Erda's weak point; 
 I shall warn David — " 
 
 Mrs. Campbell nodded hers and smiled, and almost 
 winked. " Oh ! Davie will take care of her, never fear ; 
 he is not a ninny ! " 
 
8o 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Erda flushed scarlet all over her face and neck. It 
 seemed to her as if she had forgotten her cousin, the 
 Reverend David Campbell, altogether. And yet she 
 was engaged to be married to him as soon as he returned 
 from a well-earned holiday in England. 
 
 A swift rem.orse left her pale again. Davie, who was 
 so much in earnest, who looked to her as — as — 
 
 That vision of a woman with a red-gold edging to her 
 white robe and a red-gold apple in her hand came to 
 send the blood to her face once more. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FALLING STARS 
 
 The long durbar tent was packed from end to end 
 with the cane-bottomed seats of the mighty ; and in each 
 sat its appointed occupant, — patient, grave, silent. 
 
 But in the two rows behind the Viceroy's still empty 
 chair of state the Englishmen in political dress or uni- 
 form who sat in the fion:, and the Englishwomen in 
 the ^atest Paris fashions who sat behind, were talking 
 and laughing ; in a perfectly well-bred way, yet, to the 
 majority of those silent spectators, at the expense of 
 decency, since a durbar is, like a West Indian ball, not 
 for * talkec' There was, however, no disapproval on those 
 indifferent dark faces. Such things were part and par- 
 cel of that general eccentricity of the Hiizoors, before 
 which it behoved calmness to remain calm. Yet those 
 same faces would have been quick to notice and resent 
 the faintest breach of etiquette in regard to their own 
 treatment, or position. Those being correct, the rest 
 was immaterial. 
 
 And now, the sudden strains from without of " God 
 Save the Queen " sent those talking, laughing rows to 
 their feet silently, with the proud alacrity so noticeable 
 in India when the act is a confession of faith, indeed ! 
 
FALLING STARS 
 
 8i 
 
 It 
 
 the 
 
 she 
 
 •necl 
 
 But the mass beyond followed suit obediently, with a 
 starry shiver of diamond-flash, a milky way of pearl- 
 shine ; for Eugene Smith's electric light was working 
 full power. 
 
 Finally, as if wafted on the full chords, came a small 
 man, with that inevitable look of coming into church 
 which Englishmen consider dignity ; possibly because 
 public worship is, really, the only function in which they 
 are not inwardly ashamed of taking part. The great 
 gold chair, the great gold footstool, seemed all too large 
 for everything about their occupant, save the diamond 
 star, the ribbon on his breast. Yet, in a way, the scene 
 gained by his inadequacy w lien, after a decent pause, a 
 decent silence, he rose, small, insignificant, to give voice 
 to Empire — in a strong Scotch accent, it must be 
 admitted, which equalled the Commissioner's Irish one, 
 when, its proper exponent, the Secretary, having a cold, 
 he read a translation of the Viceroy's speech, and his 
 soft brogue ran riot among the clamorous Persian 
 vowels. 
 
 '' Ai Mdhdrdjdhdn, rdjdhdn, nawdbdn wd sdhibdn dli- 
 shdn^ 
 
 The diamonds and pearls sat too still for play, so the 
 electric light contented itself with the white teeth of 
 Englishwomen as they yawned. But even these failed 
 it when, the speech ending, that front row began its 
 file past ; the civilians first, the soldiers next. A quick 
 file, a formal bow as a rule ; but, every now and again, 
 a pause would come in the monotonous string of names, 
 for a few words from the Viceroy, and another bow ere 
 the recipient passed on. Muriel Smith, who sat behind 
 — the best dressed woman there, as Erda Shepherd had 
 judged her — watched her husband's tall gaunt figure 
 approaching, and wondered if that pause would come to 
 him. Her heart beat so when it did that she could 
 hear nothing except "graciously pleased," "eminent 
 services," "distinguished order"; but a whisper from 
 her neighbor, "All right ! C. S. I., not C. I. E.," left her 
 sick and faint with relief. Even so, her eyes mstinct- 
 
 G 
 
 f V 
 
 
% 
 
 82 
 
 r//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ively sought Vincent Bering's sympathy ; but he, to 
 her surprise, was looking at the tall gaunt man whose 
 face was a ^' nimc dimittis'' in itself, as he made his way 
 back to his seat, forgetful even of his wife. 
 
 But he had forgotten her, amid a host of other things, 
 for three whole years : forgotten them in a ceaseless 
 effort, an untiring energy. And now that the necessity 
 for this was over, sleep and rest were his first thoughts. 
 He took both, apparently, in his chc'-, while the Com- 
 missioner, causing this time a fresh flashing of jewels, 
 began on a fresh string of titles. 
 
 " Sri rdja-i-rdjdny fiirziind-i-khds-mimsoor-i-zamd^i- 
 mdhdrdj-dJi irdj-rasdkh. ' ' 
 
 And, as they rolled on, the atom of humanity belong- 
 ing to them — someone in faded brocade, with ropes of 
 ill-shaped pearls and uncut stones wound about him, or 
 a jauntier figure fresh and glittering from a Calcutta 
 jeweller's shop — would be singled out by its political 
 in charge, like a sheep from a flock, and guided dexter- 
 ously to the exactly proper spot in the whole round 
 world wherein obeisance and offering could be made 
 with dignity to itself, and the recipient. Then it 
 would be swept on, regardless of an invariable desire to 
 break back, in an endless circle to its seat, while fresh 
 titles rolled out, and a fresh owner was hemmed in and 
 swept forward. For two whole mortal hours, this, and 
 nothing but this ; with, every now and again, that pause 
 for a few words, translated now into Irish-Urdu, produc- 
 ing an expression as of a cat licking cream, on a face as 
 it was was hustled back, blindly obedient, as sheep are 
 with a collie they know and trust. 
 
 So, at last, long after everyone, even Dya Ram — who 
 looked terribly disjointed between his frock coat, white 
 tie, grey trousers, and the gold mohur which he persisted 
 in holding after native custom in his gloved right hand 
 — had passed, the politicals gathered in a knot, like 
 church-wardens for the offertory plates, and the distri- 
 bution of atta a.nd pdn, thn^ sacrament of servitude and 
 sovereignty, began. It, too, was exactly like an offer- 
 
 (( 
 
FALLING STARS 
 
 «3 
 
 
 tory ; that is, a languid passing round of a plate by an 
 official, and yawns for the rest of the congregation. 
 
 Finally, with a vigour savouring — like a voluntary — 
 of relief, the band attacked ** God Save the Queen " once 
 more, the Viceroy retired, the diirbarees \.xoo\)Q<\ out, still 
 calm and silent, yet satisfied, and the Commissioner, sink- 
 ing into a vacant seat, said : — 
 
 "Thank the Lord! That's over without a hitch. So 
 India's safe for another six months at the cost of a 
 trumpery title or two." 
 
 " I don't see on what ground," began the Under Sec- 
 retary, laboriously. 
 
 " Then ye don't read your Bible. Didn't Adam, when 
 he was given dominion over the lower animals, begin by 
 bestowing names on them } Ah ! my dear Mrs. Smith, 
 I didn't know ye were so close. A thousand congratu- 
 lations, my dear lady." 
 
 *' You don't mean it, sir," she interrupted, laughing. 
 " Do you think I have forgotten the consolatory verses 
 you wrote me last year when Eugene didnt get any- 
 thing } You are a fraud." 
 
 "Not a bit of it; only an Irishman," put in Father 
 Ninian, with an almost tender smile for the keen, 
 whimsical face which had been friend to him, and foe 
 to him, for many a long year. " Let us have the verses, 
 Mrs. Smith." 
 
 " Say ye don't remember them, there's a kind soul," 
 urged the Commissioner, persuasively, 
 
 "Butldo:— ■ 
 
 " I dreamt, and lo, the stars fell from the sky 
 To blaze upon the breasts of naughty men ; 
 And as I wondered, came this swift reply : — 
 'Each star is some soul's inmost aim, and when 
 The angels don't approve, it is returned 
 To feed the base-born flame by which it burned. 
 The nice, they keep until — life\s struggle striven — 
 Th« owners find them at the gates of heaven.' " 
 
 "Striven — heaven !" groaned the Commissioner, amid 
 the clapping of hands. " My dear madam, did I com- 
 

 
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84 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I 
 
 ■ ! 
 
 m it such a crime — I mean rhyme ? But the poet's right. 
 Ye can't go wide of the mark, annyhow, even in a song, 
 but you're sure to find the fact again in the heart of a 
 friend." 
 
 So, with that curiously light-hearted, almost reckless, 
 frivolity of Indian society — a not unnatural recoil, per- 
 haps, from the perpetual presence of the greatest social 
 problem the world has ever seen, or is likely to see, 
 that is, the mutual assimilation of East and West with- 
 out injury to either — the little company of English 
 men and women, empire makers and breakers, drifted 
 out into the sunshine, and so on to the Viceroy's private 
 enclosure, where the band, weary of national anthems, 
 was already at work on a selection of street tunes, be- 
 ginning with "Tommy, make room for your uncle." 
 
 So the pageant of power passed into a garden-party, 
 and nothing remained to show the hand-grip which had 
 made that garden out of a wilderness, to tell of the tire- 
 less effort to solve the problem, the ceaseless striving 
 to be just, which underlay all the quips and cranks, the 
 foibles and follies, of the great camp, save the premature 
 baldness of a few heads, as their owners fought desper- 
 ately at badminton ; fought to prevent a child's shuttle- 
 cock from falling in the wrong court ! 
 
 A fight which was watched with blank courtesy, as a 
 further exhibition of sheer eccentricity, by those of the 
 jewelled and brocaded owners of titles who had the 
 entrde to this Holy of Holies. 
 
 Roshan Khan, however, — who looked splendid in his 
 uniform, — fought with the best; and won, too, though 
 Laila Bonaventura, who played on his side, stood still, 
 taking, it is true, the shots which came within reach 
 dexterously enough, but never stirring an inch for one 
 beyond. And, as he played, the curious chance which 
 had brought him into her company made his blood run 
 fast. 
 
 Captain Bering had bidden him join the set ; bidden 
 him curtly, almost savagely, as the best player available, 
 in answer to a challenge from Muriel Smith to play her, 
 
FALLING STARS 
 
 85 
 
 her husband, and the Commissioner. And this chal- 
 lenge had come curtly, also, because Captain 'Bering 
 was standing beside Laila Bonaventura, to whom he 
 had been giving a cup of coffee. Not because it gave 
 him pleasure, but from sheer determination not to let 
 his mistake in the darkness count for anything. Yet, 
 as the girl's hand took the cup from his, he had re- 
 membered with a thrill the gladness, the content it had 
 brought him. Though he refused to acknowledge the 
 fact, the puzzle of this mistake had been his chief 
 thought ever since it occurred, and a smouldering re- 
 sentment regarding his past relationship with one who 
 was still to him the best and dearest of women was the 
 result. He felt vaguely that she, as well as he, ought 
 to have known that their sentiment, their monopoly, as 
 it were, of friendship, could only mean — what it had 
 meant to him during those few moments of blindness 
 which had, paradoxically, opened his eyes. So he had 
 felt bitter, and she had known it instinctively. If she 
 had ever faced facts, this alone might have opened her 
 eyes also; but she was too good a woman, too help- 
 lessly bound by her woman's cult of love, to disassociate 
 it from friendship. So, without bringing a doubt even, 
 the jealous desire of appropriation which draws a line 
 clear and clean as a sword-cut between the two, had 
 risen up in her from the absence of the sympathetic 
 look she had expected from Vincent Bering. So she 
 had challenged him, and so it came to pass that Roshan 
 Kh4n played badminton with Laila Bonaventura. She 
 took no notice of him beyond a casual inspection of his 
 uniform ; still the mere fact of being her equal within the 
 white lines which separated their badminton court from 
 the realities of life seemed a fate. When the game was 
 over, his eyes followed her closely, and he, him.self, at 
 a respectful distance ; and as he followed her, his desire 
 to speak to her grew as he pondered on his right to 
 do so. After all, as his grandmother had said, she was 
 his cousin. 
 
 And fate was on his side once more. A well-bred 
 
 I 
 
 ! '« 
 
 ll. 
 
86 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 crowding .ound a table where some photographs of the 
 camp were being shown, brought him so near her that 
 she caught sight of his yellow, silver-laced uniform be- 
 hind her, and turned quickly. Turned with a look in 
 her big black eyes which dazzled him. 
 
 It vanished, however, in a second ; yet her words, 
 spoken with a faint resentment, made the memory of 
 the look give rise to a swift pulse of angry suspicion. 
 
 " I thought you were Captain Dering," she said. 
 " Why do you wear the same uniform .-* I thought 
 natives couldn't be officers." 
 
 The assumption, in his present state of mind, made 
 all his fierce temper flash to his face ; but ere he could 
 choose English words to express it, she laughed, and, 
 after her fashion when amused, became confidential. 
 " You are angry at being called a native ; but you are 
 one, aren't you } Then it is so foolish. You are like 
 my guardian. He can't bear the bazaar people to 
 call me ' Bcgum-sahiba ' ; but they do sometimes, you 
 know, because I own a lot of their houses and lands, 
 and my grandmother was a native princess. I know 
 that, though my guardian never speaks about it. He is 
 ashamed, I thmk — like you are. I'm not. I didn't 
 choose my grandmother. Why should one fuss about 
 such things t If they're true, it can't be helped, and if 
 they're not, what does it matter } Besides, it must be 
 rather nice to be a real Begum. You haven't seen any, 
 of course ; they wouldn't let you, would they } That 
 must be horrid. How could you like people if you 
 didn't see them } Besides — " she added, with an access 
 of demure, pious conviction, "it would be wicked to 
 marry them, you know. You should never marry any- 
 one you don't love. Even the Sisters told me that." 
 
 Her voice had deepened, broadened ; her eyes, occu- 
 pied with his uniform, not his face, had grown soft. 
 Hitherto he had been too much at a loss before her 
 sudden garrulity to interrupt ; now, that vague sus- 
 picion recurred, making him feel inclined to say brutally, 
 "I am your cousin; I claim you." The very thought 
 
PALLING STARS 
 
 «7 
 
 of her outraged face attracted him. Rut English words 
 were inadequate for such emotions, so, as he paused, 
 she went on : — 
 
 "As you arc here, I suppose you'll be asked to the 
 ball, also. It is to be in my palace, you know, because 
 Captain Bering thinks it the best place. He says the 
 gardens will be beautiful all lit up — " She smiled as 
 if at some secret mystery, then continued : ** Of course, I 
 don't know yet ; i haven't seen it, but I think it will bo 
 lovely. Only I wish my dress was different. I nm 
 Beatrice — Dante's Beatrice — and I think it stupid. 
 But my guardian chose it because — " she smiled again 
 with the same secret amusement — "I don't know, of 
 course, but I expect it is because my great-grandmother 
 went as Beatrice to some ball long ago. It is generally 
 that. I think he must have been in love with her — 
 isn't it funny } " 
 
 " Laila," came Father Ninian's voice from behind, ** I 
 have been looking for you everywhere. It is time to go." 
 
 His usually kind old face was stern. He gave the 
 curtest of recognitions to Roshan Khdn, and, as he 
 carried his ward off, said sharply, ** Who introduced you 
 to that native } " 
 
 " No one," she replied, indifferently ; " I thought he 
 was Captain Bering ; their uniforms — " she broke off 
 to add, with more animation, " I do like the gold and 
 silver lace. Though of course the jewels, like the 
 rajahs wore, look best." 
 
 He interrupted her in Italian, giving a quick gesture 
 of dissent. *' Say not so, cara mia, they would look ill 
 on — on Englishmen. And listen, child ! You should 
 not speak to strangers ; and I would rather you did not 
 speak to such natives at all. They — cnnnot understand 
 — quite — for they look on women differently from 
 what we do." 
 
 Laila's eyes narrowed sullenly. "Very well, guard- 
 ian," she said resignedly, "only I suppose they must 
 know what their women are really like — and — perhaps 
 the native ladies prefer it." 
 
 ■if 
 
 I, 
 
88 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE FORD 
 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 ,k t'i 
 
 '^he old man looked at her, startled, but said nothing. 
 
 When he had j:^one to find Akbar Khan and the 
 carriage, Vincent Bering, seeing her alone, came up — 
 so, at least, he told himself — out of sheer politeness, to 
 ask if she wanted anything. Yet something in her face 
 sent him beyond mere courtesy at ^iice ; something 
 almost childishly apparent. 
 
 " I'm afraid you haven't been enjoying yourself," he 
 said kindly. •' Why not } I thought it rather pleasant." 
 
 " Very pleasant ! " she assented wearily, " Only my 
 guardian has been telling me not to do things ; and I 
 don't know why, but I always want to do them at once 
 — don't you.?" 
 
 He could not actually deny the fact. " Sometimes. 
 One has to pretend — " 
 
 She raised her eyes to his blindingly ; he caught a 
 glimpse in them of the lawless approval Roshan Kh^n 
 had seen, yet of something else — a lawless disdain. 
 "Why must one.?" she asked. "I never mean to, 
 never ! If I want to do a thing I'll do it. I don't mean 
 wicked things, of course — " she returned here to de- 
 mure, almost plaintive piety — " I don't want to do them, 
 and nothing can be wrong when it seems right to you, 
 and it is real — ever so real, and you give yourself to it, 
 every bit of you, without thinking, and — and — ask 
 nothing — nothing at all — " 
 
 Her vehemence, her passionate assertion, roused a 
 quick response in him, " Would you do that } " he 
 asked, his voice vibrating. " Would you — really } " 
 
 She smiled slowly, "Of course I don't know," she 
 said, " I haven't tried yet ; but I never pretend. I 
 don't even pretend to like my dress for the ball. It is 
 so stupid." 
 
 He felt annoyed at being led into a burst of emotion, 
 and then baulked. "You will look charming, I'm sure," 
 he said in his worst manner. "And if you don't like it, 
 charge to something jolly after supper. Lots of people 
 do." 
 
 *' Will Mrs. Smith 1 " she asked quickly. 
 
FALLING STARS 
 
 89 
 
 he 
 
 He flushed angrily. " I really don't know," he be- 
 gan. Her eyes were on him curiously. 
 
 "That's funny," she said. "I thought people — not 
 that it matters," she went on, "for I can't. I haven't a 
 dress. Do you know I never have anything I really 
 like — never." 
 
 The girl's voice was absolutely touching in its listless, 
 dull confidence, and he could not help consolation. 
 "You'll have the ball, I'm sure; you will enjoy it 
 awfully, and — and you mustn't forget that you've given 
 me the second waltz, and the first extra after supper." 
 
 She did not answer for a moment. " Have I .»*" she 
 asked. " I didn't know it ; but I will. That will be 
 nice. And you are coming to decorate to-morrow, 
 aren't you } That will be nice, too." 
 
 Her tone lingered in his ears long after she had gone. 
 It was with him even when he was driving Mrs. Smith 
 home, and, of course, making up their little misunder- 
 standing by the way ; possibly, because of this making 
 up, since, for the first time, the elaborate Maircisscment 
 irked him. It seemed so unnecessary unless the whole 
 affair meant something, which was quite out of the 
 question. 
 
 For instance, when driving Lance Carlyon back to 
 the Fort afterwards he did not desire an explanation of 
 the latter's moodiness. When a chum was evil-disposi- 
 tioned, you waited calmly for him to come round. That 
 was friendship. 
 
 ** I'm sorry Miss Shepherd couldn't come," said Lance, 
 suddenly, his eyes on that spit of sand, with its hovels 
 and logs, below the town. "I wanted her to, awfully, 
 if only because she's never SQ^n 2i durbar ; but" — he 
 smiled — "I expect someone else wanted her instead. 
 By George ! Dering, you don't know how that girl 
 works. Sometimes I feel it's a shame, and sometimes 
 I think it's splendid — though of course it don't matter 
 a dash what I think." 
 
 And that — Vincent Dering asked himself — was that 
 love .-* 
 
 r* 
 
 It 
 
 
:l;i 
 
 1! 
 
 
 fi 
 
 1 1 
 
 90 
 
 r//^ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Laila Bonaventura's voice came back to make him cer- 
 tain of one thing. That would not be her version of 
 the old, old story ; and the knowledge made him, some- 
 how, more content with his world. 
 
 Meanwhile another man in yellow and silver lace was 
 being haunted by a girl's voice, which had spoken of 
 things which no decent woman of his own race would 
 have mentioned ; yet which had spoken to him with an 
 equality which no Englishwoman would have allowed 
 herself. And as for Englishmen ! The recollection of 
 Fathei Narayan's face as he carried the girl off made 
 Roshan Khan curse under his breath. 
 
 But the girl herself had been different. He literally 
 did not know what to think ; and the desire for someone 
 else's opinion grew so strong that, finally, with a curious 
 mixture of reluctance and triumph, he forsook the 
 straight road to the Fort, and turned his horse's head 
 towards his grandmother's house. She was at least 
 a woman ; she might understand and judge better 
 than he. 
 
 His first sight of her, however, in unprepared toilette, 
 minus the green satin trousers which gave such dignity 
 to her rotund little figure, minus all pretence at pomp, 
 dirty, untidy, unkempt both in her surroundings and her- 
 self, made him feel what a fool he was. The more so 
 when she began by resenting his summary visitation, 
 especially in uniform, which, she asserted, made her 
 feel, even at her age, as if she were committing the in- 
 discretion of seeing a stranger ! 
 
 What could a woman like that know.'' Yet having 
 come, he might as v/ell go through with his errand ; so 
 he cut short her upbraidings by saying without preamble : 
 
 "I have seen my cousin. I spoke to her, and — and 
 she spoke back again." 
 
 Mumtaza Mahal looked at him for a moment incredu- 
 lously, then she cracked all her finger joints over his 
 head, or as nearly over it as her height would allow. 
 
 "Said I not so.?" she asked prophetically. "And 
 when will the wedding be ? " 
 
FAT.Uyr, STAR^ 
 
 9X 
 
 was 
 
 And 
 
 I 
 
 "Wedding!" he echoed petulantly; "there is no talk 
 of wedding. I have but seen her." 
 
 " But seen her ! " echoed the old lady in her turn. 
 " That came after in my time ; but God knows how 
 things go nowadays. Then what didst speak about } " 
 
 He had to give a Bowdlerized version of what had 
 passed ; yet, even so, Mumtaza Mahal looked shocked. 
 "A bold hussy ; but thou wilt bit and bridle her." 
 
 He burst out angrily — for his own recital had shown 
 him the folly of castle-building on so slight a foundation 
 — "I am a fool," he said, "and so art thou for all thy 
 years ! " 
 
 Her little black eyes flashed angrily. " Not I ! Did 
 she not say she would like to be a Bcginti ? and if that 
 means not — " 
 
 " And could I make her one } " he interrupted fiercely. 
 "I — a 7'isalda7' on a bare pittance — with no prospect 
 of rising. Dost dream me Nawab, fool } " 
 
 The old lady's face grew cunning in a second, the in- 
 stinctive love of intrigue roused by the mere suggestion. 
 She leant towards him eagerly. "And wherefore not, 
 Roshan } Are all things fixed } Do rulers never 
 change .-' I live here in a corner, nothing but a poor 
 woman : yet I hear more, it seems, than thou dost. I 
 hear of discontent, of desires, of things that call for 
 change. But to-day, they spoke of men being killed 
 to make light for these infidels, and Go]-akh-nath,y^^/, 
 hath sworn a miracle." 
 
 He turned on her with a bitter, reckless laugh. " Is 
 that new } Is there not always talk } The wise listen 
 not." 
 
 A vast importa\iCe, a real dignity came to her in an 
 instant. " If the Huzoors had listened to such talk in 
 
 •57." 
 
 A thrill ran through him ; the thrill of secret curiosity, 
 almost of expectation regarding the great Rebellion from 
 which so mar\y things date, which young India always 
 feels in the presence of their elders, who passed through 
 it. 
 
 r 
 
 is J, 
 
< ; I 
 
 .:; ! 
 
 f i i 
 
 92 
 
 r///: IIOST^ OF THE T.ORD 
 
 " Thou dost know, of course," he said, catching his 
 breath ; "thou canst remember." 
 
 " Ay ! " she replied sternly, ** and there was no more 
 talk than there is now. 'Tis not a question of words. 
 It is fate. Something happens, and then — then the 
 rtsa/c/armuy be Nawab — as his fathers were." 
 
 She had gone too far, and recalled him to himself. 
 "Then let us await the happening," he said curtly. 
 
 " Wait ! " echoed the old lady, reverting to the main 
 point. "Thou canst not wait. Having gone so far, the 
 negotiations cannot drop. Thou must send the gift, 
 and see what comes of it." 
 
 "A gift!" he repeated. "What gift, and where- 
 fore > " 
 
 Mumtaza Mahal looked round as if for approval, 
 tucked a packet of /fan into her cheek, and chuckled. 
 She was on familiar ground now. 
 
 " Leave that to me. I know what girls like. I have 
 them still. Ay ! a dress that her grandmother wore — 
 good as new, being for a tall woman — and jewels. ' Tis 
 no harm, at least, see you ; since if they like it not, the 
 gift is returned." 
 
 He stood doubtful, half pleased, half shocked at the 
 suggestion. She could certainly send the things back, 
 and he had many a time seen English women wearing 
 native jewelry ; ay ! and decorating their rooms with 
 native dresses. And he could write that they were from 
 her cousin and servant. 
 
 That would be easier than telling. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 OUT OF THE PAST 
 
 " I FEEL as if I had this moment arrived," said Muriel 
 Smith, as she looked down into the garden from a 
 balcony which jutted out upon one side of the wide 
 fiight of marble steps that led upwards to the loggia of 
 
orr OF rirp. past 
 
 93 
 
 the palace. "Yet I know I've been here for hours. I 
 wonder when the sheer beauty will cease to — to take 
 my breath away. You understand, don't you .'' " 
 
 "Yes!" assented Vincent Bering, half grud<;ingly. 
 He would rather not have understood more than others. 
 But he did ; that was the worst of it. 
 
 He was looking his best in the old cavalry uniform of 
 grey, and silver, and cherry colour, all laced, embroid- 
 ered, and glittering with epaulettes, sabretasche, and 
 high stock, — the uniform of a hundred years ago, when 
 adventurers ruled half India, and Englishmen were 
 demi-gods. It seemed to have brought something of 
 their pride and recklessness, something of the dreams 
 they dreamt into his whole bearing, as he stood leaning 
 over the balustrade gazing fixedly at the scene before 
 him. It was lieautiful indeed ! Beautiful with that un- 
 earthly stillness which only comes to illuminations in a 
 windless Indian night. The lines on lines, the curves 
 on curves of tiny lights which outlined each pillar and 
 arch, each buttress and recess of the palace, the battle- 
 mented wall of the garden, and the turreted town rising 
 above it, were steady as the stars. The fine fret of the 
 acacia trees, showing white against the purple of the 
 sky, was still as if carved in stone. There was no 
 flicker in the soft radiance, which made the solid marble 
 seem translucent, illumined mysteriously from within. 
 
 The very shadows slept. Such scented shadows, 
 clinging to the burnished orange trees, hidden in the 
 wilderness of roses, dreaming on the perfumed cushions 
 of the quaint balconies and cupolas which overhung the 
 river. 
 
 But // did not sleep. // moved, sliding on and on 
 ceaselessly. 
 
 So did the water which dimpled and tinkled — after 
 Heaven only knew how many sad years of silence and 
 decorum — over the fretted marble water-slides. 
 
 How it laughed and babbled to the cunning coloured 
 lights placed behind it ! And the fountains below, 
 rising out of the water-maze, — where there was but 
 
 
 % 
 
 
94 
 
 rrff rmsTS or 'rirr. mR/y 
 
 [ 
 
 
 ! 
 
 
 
 • 1 
 
 
 j 
 
 I , i 
 
 I 
 
 !i 
 
 room for the flyinj; feet of a laughing girl on the marble 
 ledges between the lotus-leaves, — laughed and tinkled, 
 also, as they sent showers of diamonds back on the 
 pale blossoms. 
 
 The " jewel in the lotus " indeed ! 
 
 There was no colour to be seen anywhere. Only 
 that soft, steady, white radiance, those soft, sleeping, 
 black shadows. ICxcept in the drifting water-maze, and 
 the drifting men and women around it. 
 
 Restless, both of them ; going on and on. Whither, 
 and wherefore } It was an idle question, Vincent told 
 himself, if the move brought, as it did here, fresh laugh- 
 ter, fresh colour. 
 
 " Ofi such a night did young Lornizo,^^ quoted the 
 Commissioner's brogue from the flight of steps where, 
 in the guise of a French cook, he was fanning Laila 
 Bonaventura, with whom he had been dancing ; the 
 latter sitting still and silent as the shadow in which she 
 was half hidden. A crackling laugh betrayed Dr. 
 Dillon's whereabouts. He was perched on a balustrade 
 above, his legs dangling, his trousers, as usual, display- 
 ing his thin ankles ; for he was dressed in his ordinary 
 evening suit. 
 
 "And old Lorenzo also," he scoffed. "The disease 
 is nonprotective, contagious, and marked by extraordi- 
 nary vitality in the virus, which after long years may 
 spring to fresh life from a dress, a bit of ribbon, a lock 
 of hair." 
 
 " Oh ! have done with such blasphemy ! " interrupted 
 the Commissioner, joyously, "and me racking me brains 
 which of all the beauties of this Jiareem I'd better fall in 
 love with ! Dcring, you're a steward, I believe. Turn 
 that man out for obtruding the exigencies of everyday 
 life — including a swallow-tail coat — into Paradise." 
 
 " I've objected already, sir," said Vincent Dering, 
 laughing; "but he declares he is a malarial bacillus." 
 
 " A what } " remonstrated the brogue. 
 
 "A malarial bacillus, sir,'' explained the doctor ; "as 
 I have failed hitherto — like everybody else — to recog- 
 
OUT OF rnr past 
 
 95 
 
 may 
 lock 
 
 'as 
 -cog- 
 
 nize the gentleman, even through a microscope, \ am 
 naturally at sea as to the proper costume. And you 
 will, of course, admit the universal rule : • When in 
 doubt, play a dress suit.' " 
 
 ••By Jove ! " ejaculated Lance Carlyon, who, mopping 
 his face, had joined the group, ''what a rij)ping idea. 
 Wish I'd thought of it instead of this kit." He looked 
 regretfully at his mailed limbs ; for he was dressed 
 as Lancelot-du-Lac, a costume which had been chosen 
 for him two yitivx^ before, at Simla, by a grass widow 
 who had aspired to the i^art of Guinevere ; but who, 
 retiring before the young fellow's absolute unconscious- 
 ness of her intention, had left him saddled with an ex- 
 pensive fancy dress which he felt bound to wear out ; 
 for all his spare cash was kept for guns and polo ponies. 
 
 ••I'm glad you didn't, Mr. Cariyon," protested iMuriel 
 Smith, consolingly. •'You look very nice in it. Only 
 those things on your legs — I forget the proper name — 
 must be difficult to dance in." 
 
 •' Greaves — the well-greaved Greeks, me dear 
 madam," put in the Commissioner. " Plural of grief. 
 Ah ! ye should have seen him come to it just now with 
 the general's wife. Your chance of promotion's gone, 
 me dear boy — the marble floor resounded." 
 
 •'Well, it isn't half so inconvenient as my husband's 
 dress, anyhow," continued Mrs. Smith, persisting in her 
 mission of sympathy, when the laugh at Lance's 
 expense had subsided. 
 
 "That's all you know, my dear," remonstrated Mr. 
 Smith, sleepily, from a quiet nook in one corner. " I 
 never said Robinson Crusoe was a good dancing dress, 
 but I claim it isn't bad to sleep in, especially out of 
 doors. Soft and furry — and — " 
 
 His voice sank into dreamful ease. 
 
 ••And it can claim solitude, anyhow," added the doc- 
 tor, mournfully. •• Think of the disgust of an old 
 established microbe, like myself, when his swept and 
 garnished home is invaded by a party of seven strange 
 devils." 
 
 
 I 1 l^'fl 
 
96 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I it 
 
 " How rude you are! " exclaimed Mrs. Smith. *' Be- 
 sides, we aren't seven, and I believe Robinson Crusoe 
 discovered this island before you did ! " 
 
 "I think the French cook takes the cake, though," 
 said poor Lance, who had been following up his own 
 grievance. ** Shirt sleeves must be an awful pull when 
 you are dancing with a biirva 7nem." ^ 
 
 "True for you ! " assented the Commissioner, sympa- 
 thetically. " That's the very reason I took to it, me 
 dear boy, when me own merits and me advancing years 
 doomed me to all the stout ladies in India. Besides, me 
 paper cap rids me of two of me reports anyhow. Ye 
 see I always have to wear two caps ; one before, and one 
 after supper. Otherwise I find the contints get mixed, 
 and make me statements unreliable ; and then me ene- 
 mies say it's the champagne. I feel it coming on 
 me now, but — " he sprang to his feet, light as a boy — 
 " by a merciful providence there's the band at the 
 * Roast Beef.' Now, are ye coming in to supper with 
 me, Mrs. Smith, or are you one of those who have to 
 change their identity .!* " 
 
 " Not I," she declared, taking his arm, " I'm quite 
 content with myself, thank you ! " 
 
 She might well be, since her costume of water-nymph 
 could not have been improved upon. It enabled her to 
 show off her long, rippling, pale gold hair, and the filmy 
 green and white, the feathery weeds, the iridescent 
 shells, matched her delicate face, which seemed almost 
 overweighted by her water-lily crown. 
 
 " Besides, Undine can always do quick-change artist, 
 and assume a soul," suggested the Commissioner, as 
 he led her off ; adding, in mock alarm : " Me dear 
 madam ! I apologize profoundly. Miss Bonaventura, 
 Captain Bering's waiting for you, I'm sure." 
 
 Laila, who had risen also, stood silent, looking taller 
 and slimmer than usual in her guise of Beatrice. It 
 seemed to have brought out the fact that she had some 
 of the best blood of Italy in her veins. Vincent Bering 
 
 ^ Big lady. 
 
 ' 
 
 t 
 
 ! 
 
OUT OF THE PAST 
 
 97 
 
 ring 
 
 had recognized this fact — which Father Ninian had 
 taken care to communicate to him as soon as the latter 
 had found out that, nominally at any rate, the former 
 was a Roman Catholic, and therefore a possible lover — 
 when he had gone up to apologize to the girl for having 
 missed that second dance, owing to his duties as steward. 
 The recognition had him vaguely sorry for the girl ; 
 sorry also for the old man who, evidently, dreamt such 
 idle dreams. He did not mean to marry a Begum ! 
 
 He crossed over to her now, offering his arm, but she 
 refused it, saying she did not want supper. 
 
 " But you are enjoying yourself, surely } " he said. 
 
 **Oh, yes! thank you," she answered; *' only it isn't 
 real, of course. It doesn't mean anything." 
 
 Dr. Dillon, who was within hearing, looked down at 
 her sharply. " Perhaps, my dear young lady, it is as well 
 it doesn't. So let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to- 
 morrow we die ! " 
 
 She looked up at him quite shocked. "Oh ! I didn't 
 mean that, of course; that is wrong. I only meant 
 that things don't match — the place and the people, I 
 mean. Except one or two — those for instance." She 
 pointed out Roshan Khan who, dressed as himself, 
 was taking advantage of the emptiness of the garden 
 during supper time, to go round it with old Akbar 
 Khdn as guide, the latter in the wildest antics of alacrity. 
 
 " Did you ever see such a funny figure } " continued 
 the girl, with an odd little laugh. " He is quite crazy with 
 joy. He told me to-day this was the first time for forty years 
 that he had been himself ! That he has been bewitched." 
 
 " I believe I've been bewitched too," said Vincent, 
 suddenly. " Let us all go back forty years." 
 
 Dr. Dillon swung his feet further over, and dropped 
 to the ground almost between them. 
 
 ** That would effectually annihilate two of the company, 
 and reduce me to cutting my teeth ; and I want the use 
 of them at supper. Come along and have something 
 solid. Miss Bonaventura ; there is nothing so indiges- 
 tible as fancy sweets." 
 
 u 
 
 I 
 
 

 «! 
 
 II 
 
 Ml 
 
 r'l 
 
 98 
 
 T/ZE HOSTr> OF THE fORD 
 
 But she was firm, and moved away to where a small 
 staircase led from the balcony to the upper storey. She 
 did not care for supper, she repeated, and she had to 
 mend her dress ; someone had trodden on it, and she 
 would not be able to dance till it was mended. 
 
 "Don't forget ours — the first cxtra^' called Vincent 
 after her. She turned where the narrow stair, after 
 climbing the outside wall, against which it clung like a 
 swallow's nest, ended in the shadow of an archway. " I 
 shall be back in plenty of time," she said. Vincent 
 thought he had never seen her look so nice, so young, 
 so fresh, so smiling. 
 
 "That's a queer girl," remarked the doctor, as he 
 lounged off, "not half bad. That is just it, in fact ; she 
 is a clear case of atavism, arid as her ancestors seem to 
 have been either saints or sinners, there you are ! For 
 it's the same tissue absolutely ; indeed, there's precious 
 little difference between the two when you come to 
 analyze." 
 
 " I never do," interrupted Vincent, shortly. The 
 doctor's cynicism bored him, especially here, where a 
 man might at least be allowed to escape the brutal real- 
 ities. Here, where even the houses in the bazaar be- 
 yond the garden wall — those houses that were by the 
 common light of day so squalid, so unsavoury, so full 
 of mean, miserable detaiK^- showed like star-palaces 
 against the sky ! 
 
 A sudden comprehension came to him. How blind 
 of the girl to say all this meant nothing ! How crassly 
 idiotic of himself to think of going back forty years to 
 enjoy this ! This was the same yesterday, to-day, for 
 ever ! It was the love of physical pleasure, the desire 
 to appropriate, to have and to hold, which had civilized 
 the world, and made man out of a monkey. 
 
 " * The Cradle of the Gods,' did you say, my dear 
 lady } " said a courteous old voice from the stairs, break- 
 ing in on his solitude. "Just so — the pilgrims go 
 there every year. It lies — let me see — I think I can 
 point it out to you. Ah ! Captain Bering ! " continued 
 
 V^ 
 
OUT OF THE PAST 
 
 99 
 
 Father Ninian, finding the balcony into which he had 
 stepped r;/ /^?j"^'^;//, occupied. "We don't disturb you, 
 I hope ; but Mrs. Palmer was speaking about the * Cradle 
 of the Gods.' It must lie — don't you think so } — over 
 there." He pointed beyond the star-palaces. 
 
 "I should fancy so, sir," replied Vincent, **that is 
 about due north." 
 
 " Then I am wrong," smiled the old priest ; "the cave 
 is northwest, and the passage to it is difficult — almost 
 incredibly difficult." 
 
 "Yet you have been there several times, haven't 
 you } " said Mrs. Palmer. 
 
 Father Ninian shook his head. " Never to the cave 
 itself, madam. I am not quite sure whether I ever 
 really meant to go so far, — and bow in the House of 
 Rimmon ! It would have been interesting no doubt — 
 but — " he glanced down almost boyishly at his black 
 soutane — " my cloth, my dear lady, has to be considered. 
 As a matter of fact, something always hindered me. I 
 went as a medicine man, you see ; and so many fall by 
 the wayside. I wonder, indeed, how any reach it." 
 He paused, and a wistful smile made his face look 
 dreamy. " Some say none do. Aj'ogi — Gorakh-nath, 
 Captain Dering, — he whom you turned out of the gun 
 — claims to be the only man who has ever seen the real 
 cave; the rest have seen — illusion!'' He paused 
 again, and his smile changed. " 'Tis a claim, madam, 
 made by more than Gorakh-nath ; who, by the v/ay, 
 promises to defy you, Captain Dering. Padlock or no 
 padlock, he is to get in and out of the gun as he chooses 
 while the pilsfrims are here." 
 
 Vincent laughed contemptuously. " I don't think 
 miracles go down, even in India, nowadays, sir." 
 
 The old priest's face grew grave. " I cannot give 
 my assent to that ; I who have seen the blood of a saint 
 turn crimson and flow. Faith, Captain Dering, — that 
 is, the belief of man in a power beyond his own, — is the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ! " 
 
 Vincent Dering bowed pol'tely, and kept his shrug of 
 
 
 ii. 
 
100 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 the shoulders for the old man's back, as he followed him 
 upstairs to the supper room. 
 
 The same yesterday, to-day, for ever ! True, in a way. 
 There were two stabilities amid the chances and 
 changes of this mortal life. The Garden of the Palace. 
 The Cradle of the Gods. Faith and Love — for it came 
 to that in the end. 
 
 Here the familiar sight of a ball supper in full swing 
 ended his rare reflections, and he slipped into a place 
 beside a lively yivandi^re, who welcomed him with en- 
 treaties to join in a comic opera she was going to get 
 up at Simla. The last new rage in London ; she had 
 written home for the rights. 
 
 He was in a new atmosphere in a moment, and 
 straightway forgot the garden ; forgot everything but 
 that the supper was excellent, his companion gay. 
 Even the Commissioner's high voice, as he talked 
 nonsense, seemed far from the gravity even of con- 
 ferring titles, and it seemed incredible that the small 
 man who sat surrounded by a host of departmental 
 heads was really representing a whole Empire. 
 
 When the band downstairs, by beginning on Strauss's 
 " Lovelong livelong day," warned him of his engage- 
 ment to Laila, he passed to it half reluctantly. She 
 would be sure to dance badly : that make of girl always 
 did. So he was relieved to find the ball room, and the 
 wide loggia into which it opened, almost empty. Only 
 a couple or two were spinning slowly, idly, in and out of 
 the resounding arches. 
 
 He went on, therefore, to the balcony beside the stairs. 
 If the girl was there it would be an excuse for sitting 
 out. If not, he could always say he had waited for her. 
 Either way, he would have time for a cigarette. 
 
 As he went down towards it he met Lance Carlyon 
 coming up, and called to him : "Supper's Ai ; so's the 
 wine. It's going awfully well, isn't it } " 
 
 "Suppose so," replied Lance, "but I'm going to cut. 
 These togs are awful ; but if I go now I'll have time to 
 change and have a shoot down the river. Am-ma says 
 
OUT OF THE PAST 
 
 lOI 
 
 the clucks sit like stones before dawn. They won't miss 
 me, as a bachelor, I suppose ? " 
 
 Vincent looked at him compassionately. "A bache- 
 lor," he echoed. " It's about your last chance, I take 
 it. However, if you want to kill something — it's a 
 common symptom — go! I shall stop till the bitter — 
 or sweet — end! One doesn't get into a streak like 
 this once in a blue moon ! I feel fit for anything." 
 
 As he sat down for a smoke in the corner vacated 
 by Robinson Crusoe, this feeling was strong upon him, 
 and sent the blood tingling to his finger-tips. 
 
 The band had by this time ceased piping to unwilling 
 dancers, so the still, warm, scented air was left to the 
 tinkling ripple of the water, the rippling tinkle of dis- 
 tant voices ; for supper had almost emptied the garden 
 also. The better for its picturesque effect. Now the 
 imagination could people it — as Laila Bonaventura 
 (the girl had sense) had phrased it — with figures that 
 matched ; real figures. 
 
 A chiming silvery clash above him made him turn to 
 look upwards to the archway where Laila Bonaventura 
 had disappeared. It would be a bore if she were return- 
 ing to interrupt his cigarette ; though, in truth, she had 
 been, he re*^ lembered, almost attractive. 
 
 Almost — 
 
 He gave an exclamation, and rose to his feet. She 
 was coming, indeed, but not as she had gone. 
 
 There is no dress in the world which is at once so 
 dainty and so sensuous, as the court dress of a Mahome- 
 dan lady, and Laila Bonaventura was wearing one as 
 she came slowly down the stairs towards him, a radiant 
 white figure against the radiant white marble. 
 
 The folds of her long silver-gauze skirt — so cun- 
 ningly fashioned that it trailed in rolling shimmer- 
 crested billows behind her, yet left no beauty of her 
 round limbs hidden — clipped her about the waist like 
 a serpent's skin. So hiding, yet revealing, was the soft 
 film of fine muslin over the scented, ivory-tinted corse- 
 let, which fitted close to the full curves of her figure. 
 
 if 
 
 I I 
 
 1 - 
 
 i'. 
 
m 
 
 i 
 
 ij 
 
 1 
 
 l|:i 
 
 lit 
 
 102 
 
 T//E frOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 So was it with the silver-streaked veil, through which 
 the jewels in her dusky hair, the bracelets on her fair 
 arms, shone undimmed. So was it even with the chim- 
 ing fringes of her silver anklets, as they slid merrily 
 to cover and uncover the small feet, tucked so care- 
 lessly into the little silver-tipped slippers. 
 
 To hide and to reveal, that was the note of all ! 
 
 As she came nearer, too, he saw that her lips were 
 reddened, her dark eyes darkened artificially. And yet 
 her face did not correspond to all this. It was curiously 
 grave, dignified, almost anxious. 
 
 " Do you like it.? " she asked, suddenly pausing a pace 
 or two from him to stand still, heaped round by those 
 shimmer-crested billows, and so, with one hand, gather 
 the straight folds of her veil to curves over her arm. As 
 she did so, he saw, with a curious throb at his heart, 
 that her wrists were fettered ^o each other by long 
 trailing chains of scented jasmine flowers. 
 
 A dainty prisoning indeed ! The suggestion of it set 
 his head whirling. 
 
 Like it ! — His very admiration kept him silent. 
 
 ** It makes it feel more real," she went on, " don't 
 you think it does .'* " 
 
 Real, or a dream } He did not know which. He felt 
 a fool to stand so silent; yet no words — as she would 
 phrase it — came to match. None, at least, that he 
 dare use to her unconscious dignity. 
 
 " Only I can't dance, you see," she continued, bend- 
 ing to look at the billows about her feet. "Besides," — 
 she looked up suddenly, her whole expression changed, 
 she flung her fettered hands forward almost into his face. 
 The strings on strings of scented flowers looping them- 
 selves in ever widening curves, hung like a screen 
 between him and her laughter. 
 
 " I'm a prisoner — yours, I suppose." He fell back 
 for half a second, then caught the hand in his. 
 
 And then, in an instant, it came back to him — the 
 measureless glad content of that mistake in the dark ! 
 He had told himself ever since that it had come, then, 
 
OUT OF thp: past 
 
 103 
 
 by mistake — incomprehensible, it is true, horrible to a 
 certain extent, but still in error. But this was no 
 mistake ! 
 
 "Yes! — my prisoner," he said. •* Come, and sit 
 down, and let us talk." He wanted time to think. 
 
 She shook her head. " Not here, please ! No one is 
 to see me but you, only you. That is why I waited till 
 I saw you were alone. I only put it on for you to see." 
 
 A sudden remembrance of something she had said to 
 him — ''When it is real, and you give yourself — every- 
 thing, and ask nothing." The certainty that she was 
 doing this now made him say quickly : — 
 
 "Don't be afraid — they shall not see. Come, let us 
 go into the garden — those balconies by the river — " 
 
 She shook her head again. 
 
 " They are not safe, and my guardian would be so 
 angry. Though it isn't really wrong " — she added, 
 with her odd vein of piety ; " but when somebody sent 
 me the dress, I thought it would be fun, and I wanted 
 you to see." 
 
 " Sent you the dress } " he echoed hotly. " Who ? " 
 
 She looked at him vastly amused. "Are you jealous? 
 But I'm not going to tell you. That is just like the 
 novels, isn't it ; but what is the use of making people 
 angry ? " 
 
 "How do you know I should be angry," he asked 
 coldly. 
 
 She smiled like a Sphinx might smile. " I'm certain. 
 Come ! Perhaps I'll tell you when we get to a safe 
 place. There's one close by. My guardian wouldn't 
 have it lit up because — he always has the same reason 
 for everything, you know, and it ts so dull — because 
 something happened there long ago. As if it mattered ! " 
 
 As she spoke, they had been passing down the marble 
 steps, her silver anklets chiming : and now, as they 
 paused an instant on the edge of the water-maze, they 
 chimed still. But to a new, curiously provocative 
 measure, and her face, her figure, her very voice, 
 changed as if to keep time with it. 
 
 • 1 
 
 r 
 
■! t, 
 
 104 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 ill 
 
 m 
 
 ,f ' 
 
 *'I used to run all over it, in and out, when I was 
 little," she chattered mischievously, "and old Akbar 
 used to run after me and tumble in ! I could do it now, 
 and you could chase me, if I hadn't all this — " she gave 
 a little mutinous kick at her sweeping skirt. Then sud- 
 denly she laughed. "Poor old Akbar! I'd like him 
 to see me, but I don't see how it could be managed. 
 And nobody else must — but you. So come — come 
 quick ! " 
 
 She drew him after her by one hand, like a child at 
 play. Across the marble plinth, right to the wide 
 arched passage in the lower storey ; and when, having 
 gained in the race, he would from habit have gone 
 straight on towards the courtyard, she pulled him back 
 with a peal of laughter. 
 
 " Not that way, stupid ! Here — it's a dear little bal- 
 cony all by itself with steps down to the river and a boat." 
 
 " Perfect ! " he exclaimed with an answering laugh, as 
 he disappeared after her. 
 
 But in that instant's pause two figures had passed 
 into the other end of the long passage from the chapel. 
 Two figures, one of which, half-disdainfully, half-regret- 
 fully, had been going round the beauties of the palace ; 
 the other, gambolling sideways by reason of its curbing 
 deference its urging servility, engaged in garrulous 
 tales of past glory. 
 
 " Yea ! Ger-eeb-pim-wdsy' it was saying, " Bun-avat^r 
 used to meet An^ri Begum here. She liked him best 
 in uniform, and she wore — " 
 
 It was then that, framed in the distant archway, seen 
 clear against the radiance of the garden, that vision of a 
 laughing girl, a flashing uniform appeared. 
 
 Old Akbar Kh^n gave a faint mumbl'ng petition to 
 be preserved, and fell back, his teeth chattering. 
 
 " Andr — Anir — herself," he muttered. " And he — 
 God help us all ! Why did they light up the garden } " 
 
 But Rosban Khan knew better. His eyes were 
 younger. And he had the key — the key of that shim- 
 mering silver dress. 
 
THE PIVOTS OF LIFE 
 
 105 
 
 "Fool!" he said sharply. "They are no ghosts. 
 Twas Y)tx\ng-sahib and — and — " he gave a bitter 
 laugh — "one of his mems. They du such things often." 
 
 But as he walked on, his hands clenched themselves 
 to the tune of the words which sang in his brain, " God 
 smite his soul to hell ! God smite his soul to hell ! " 
 
 The two great stabilities, Love of God and Love of 
 woman, had joined hands, as they always do. 
 
 A formidable combination. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE PIVOTS OF LIFE 
 
 ssed 
 pel. 
 ret- 
 ce : 
 
 to 
 
 rere 
 lim- 
 
 
 Lance Carlyon was not, as a rule, given either to 
 loss of spirits or temper, yet both were at vanishing- 
 point as he flung off the garb of his namesake of the 
 lake ; swearing as he did so that he would never wear 
 the blessed thing again. It cramped him all over ; 
 body and soul. And then — for he knew his Tenny- 
 son well, as one of his name could hardly fail to do — 
 his memory raced swiftly over the love-loyal knight's 
 career ; until suddenly he laughed at a phrase which had 
 always tickled him. ^^ So groaned Sir Lancelot — not 
 knowing he should die a holy man.'* 
 
 If he had } — what would have been the result ? Would 
 he simply have refrained from remorseful pain, or from 
 the honour rooted in dishonour which caused it "i 
 
 With a mighty stretch of his sound young muscles at 
 the relief. Lance caught up his Indian clubs, and went 
 elaborately, conscientiously, through his daily series of 
 exercises before putting on his dust-coloured shooting- 
 suit, and swathing himself with the necessary plenti- 
 tude of belts, cartridge-boxes, and gaiters. The latter — 
 being, after Indian fashion, simply a couple of bandages 
 neatly twined — were, as a matter of fact, much tighter 
 than his discarded greaves ; but the clip of them about 
 his calves was familiarly reminiscent of many a day 
 
 ii 
 
 ^1 
 
 I ; 
 
 A 
 
io6 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 spent out in the jungle alone, or at most with some 
 companion of Am-ma's type. A man whose only claim 
 to be called one in these later days was his undoubted 
 dominion over the bircl'' .he air, the fish of the sea, 
 the beasts of the field, riow jolly it had been! And 
 how the deuce could a fellow like Vincent Bering — 
 
 Lance, sorting cartridges systematically wi<:h an eye 
 to a possible snipe, whistled a tune which Vincent was 
 always asked to sing at the Smiths', ** Szvcct is true love 
 — and sivcct is Death'' 
 
 Well, he preferred the Death. So, catching up his 
 gun, he made his way to the crypt-like flight of steps 
 which, half way down the straight river-edged wall of 
 the Fort — between its northern bastion where the 
 stream turned hill wards at a sharp angle, and the 
 southern one beside the bathing-steps — led to a tiny 
 landing-stage. Here the canoe, which he had hired 
 for such excursions from Raman und (whose last experi- 
 ence of boating had rather sickened him of its pleasures), 
 lay moored. 
 
 Keeping the paddle ready for steering, he let the 
 stream, which here clung swift and smooth to the wall, 
 take him with it ; partly because he had no wish to be 
 seen by any revellers in the palace. But the sight of 
 the latter made him slip the paddle-blade into the sliding 
 water, and send the canoe swerving out for a better view. 
 
 It was wondrously beautiful, seen from the river, with 
 every line and curve of light reflected almost as clear as 
 the reality. The sight held his attention, so that he 
 was abreast of the bathing-steps ere he remembered his 
 desire for secrecy, and, in his haste, the canoe — answer- 
 ing to his swift stroke — almost spun round, bringing 
 him, in an instant, within an ace of collision with the 
 hard brick. As it was, he heard a faint grating sound. 
 
 " By Jove ! that was a near shave," he muttered to 
 himself. 
 
 Out of the darkness of the courtyard, for the unillu- 
 minated block of the palace rose between it and the 
 white radiance, came a voice : — 
 
 3 
 
THE PIVOTS OF TJFE 
 
 107 
 
 [swer- 
 
 the 
 lund. 
 led to 
 
 Inill li- 
 the 
 
 / 
 
 
 " Is't thou? Hast brought the tool — we must get 
 the job done ere dawn and — " 
 
 The rest was inaudible as the river slid him on. What 
 were they up to ? he wondered idly ; taking advantage, 
 doubtless, of the al)Solute desertion of the courtyard, 
 the entry to which had been blocked for the night, the 
 main entrance to the palace having been prepared for 
 the reception of the guests. Were they meddling with 
 the padlock Bering had put on the tampion which 
 stopped the muzzle of the old gun ? Time to see to 
 that in the morning. 
 
 He was now steering his way just on the edge of the 
 shadow cast by the wall on the water, and in front of 
 him jutted out a balcony smaller than the rest, and 
 nearer the river. Those upper ones, he knew, were 
 part of the chapel ; but this — 
 
 He looked at it narrowly, wondering if he had ever 
 noticed it before, then let the paddle sink idly across 
 the boat, and sat staring at what he saw. Bering, of 
 course ! But the woman ! Who on earth was she } A 
 native .'' Hardly ; and yet he did not remember seeing 
 anyone at the ball whose dress was in the least like 
 this ; even in the dark it glittered. 
 
 " Bo you call that love } " came a voice echoing softly 
 over the water. " I don't. When I love, I mean to 
 give, not to take; and the more I give, the more I'll 
 have to give ; because, you see, love will come back — it 
 must." 
 
 By all that was incomprehensible, Laila Bonaventura! 
 And, if there was any certainty in these shadows, 
 Bering's arm — 
 
 Phew ! Lance knew his Shakespeare also ; had, in 
 fact, a curiously ingenuous and human acquaintance 
 with even the exact words of the great master. So as 
 he drifted on, leaving those two in the balcony, a line 
 drifted with him : — 
 
 '• Slie whom I love now 
 Doth giace for grace and love for love allow. 
 The other did not so." 
 
 i 
 
.1 
 
 ; ': 
 
 
 V. I 
 
 io8 
 
 T//S HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 He felt a righteous relief at the idea, for he was 
 eminently virtuous. Poor old Vincent ! This was 
 better than the other — he paused doubtfully — Well! 
 different people had different tastes. He, for instance, 
 had never admired Mrs. Smith. And then Bering, good 
 chap as he was, had, everybody knew, a touch of the tar- 
 brush himself. Only a touch, still it made a difference; 
 for one had to consider the children. For instance, 
 when he married — Why a vision of a child's head he 
 had once seen, far away in the noith, covered with soft, 
 waving curls of sun-bright red-gold hair, chestnut — yes, 
 chestnut hair, the very colour of that beast of a pony 
 who boshed him at polo — should have come to him at 
 that moment he did not know ; but he fled from it, bash- 
 ful as any girl over her first fancy, and, bending forward, 
 sent the canoe racing the foam-bubbles on the swifter 
 current with all the strength of his youiig arms. 
 
 That was the mission house, ending the long curve of 
 the cit} The mission house, where she slept — the boat 
 raced harder here — where she lived in the thick of it — 
 God bless her! Here the boat slackened, partly because 
 the spit was reached, and in the darkness, made visible 
 by that soft white radiance behind him, he must not 
 miss Am-ma's hut. Am-ma, who had dominion over 
 wild duck, among other things in that munificent gift 
 of the Creator to His own image. Am-ma, who must 
 come out and show those who had fallen from their 
 high estate through civilization how to lure the birds to 
 their death. 
 
 " Sweet is true Love though given in vain. 
 And sweet is Death which puts an end to pain."^^ 
 
 The refrain came back in this connection, and Lance's 
 voice, as he sang it, if not musical, held a hint of some- 
 thing beyond the mere maudlin expression-stop of the 
 ordinary song-singer. 
 
 He need not, he told himself, have feared to overlook 
 Am-ma's wigwam ; for there, not far from the point of 
 the spit it stood, al! lit up ; circled round closely with a 
 
 -i 
 
 I 
 
THE PIVOTS OF LIFE 
 
 109 
 
 it — 
 
 :causc 
 
 isible 
 
 not 
 
 over 
 
 t gift 
 
 must 
 
 their 
 
 ■ds to 
 
 row of little lights like those at the palace. Were the 
 primitive folk down here aping their masters and having 
 a ball of their own ? Smiling at the thought, he ran 
 the canoe on shore and walked up to the reed hut. 
 Then he saw that the circle of lights was broken by 
 a dark patch. It was Am-ma himself, squatting on his 
 heels. To one side of him, firmly fixed in the sand, was 
 a freshly-killed crocodile's head, its jaws ingeniously dis- 
 tended by a thin cane to which a string was attached. 
 By pulling this the dead mouth seemed to open and 
 shut, as the pliant rattan bent under the strain and 
 sprang back again. In his other hand he held a bloody 
 spear. Despite these fearful preparations, however, the 
 first glimpse of an approaching figure set him visibly 
 trembling with fright ; until, on its coming nearer the 
 lights, he sprang to his feet with a sudden blubbering 
 shout of relief. 
 
 " I thought — this fool, this atom of dust, thought — 
 the Huzoor was the devil ! " he explained, capering and 
 chuckling to make much of the joke, now that the fear 
 of its being a reality was over. 
 
 "The devil!" echoed Lance. "What the dickens 
 should the devil come here for } " 
 
 Am-ma looked half-grave, half-important. Did not 
 the Huzoor know, he explained, that when life was com- 
 ing into the world, all the demons in it wanted to get 
 hold of the new-born thing } Hence the lights, hence 
 the crocodile's head and the spear ; also his own valiance. 
 Hence, also, the impossibility of his accompanying the 
 Presence after duck. If he, the father of the thing to 
 be born, was not there to fight the demons, what hope 
 could there be for the son .-* — and here this quaint, broad, 
 ugly face grew wistful — for it must be a son, surely, 
 this time. No ! he had no children ; the demons had 
 taken them all, every one ; though he had left nothing 
 undone, though he had sought out one medicine-man 
 after another. What did it matter } he asked patheti- 
 cally, if the charm were of one faith or another, if it 
 brought a child. He had tried all. His own and every- 
 
 li 
 
 
 
II n 
 
 no 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 li 
 
 
 body else's. But they all died, the children, girls and 
 boys ; died when they were born. The demon somehow 
 slipped through the lights ; the charm was not strong 
 enough ; that was all. So this time, when he had seen 
 that the Hiizoors had the Dcc-puk-rdg, the sign of kings, 
 that they were, indeed, light-bringers, as his people had 
 been of old, he had sent for the Wiss-sahiba, and she 
 had come. She was there in the hut, even now, fight- 
 ing the demons. 
 
 Lance gave a quick catch of his breath, and stood 
 silent. Right over the miserable reed hut, clear against 
 the violet of the moonless sky, rose those palaces of 
 stars lit up for pleasure. It almost seemed to him that 
 the slight breeze, which was beginning to whisper of the 
 dawn, held in it the faint rhythm of a distant waltz. 
 
 And here, at his feet, was this hut, lit up for pain. 
 He heard that also, in a faint moan, which sent a shiver 
 through him ; the shiver of one who finds himself bare 
 of accustomed covering, out in the open, far from any 
 shelter from the cold sky. 
 
 "Of course you can't come, Am-ma," he said, moving 
 off. "Well! I hope the Wiss-sahiba \\\\\ — will keep 
 the devil away. I — I — expect she will ! " 
 
 As he floated a little further down stream, vaguely 
 obeying the instructions which Am-ma, regretful for all 
 his anxiety, had shouted after him, he told himself that 
 if anybody could, she would. If a fellow married her, 
 for instance — 
 
 He drew the canoe on to the sand-bank, Am-ma had 
 spoken of, somewhat sooner than his directions warranted, 
 in order to stifle thought by action. And it needed 
 every sense on the alert to tell in the darkness if one 
 was keeping a fairly straight path. That scarcely 
 audible " li/^, lip'' on the right meant that the water 
 was close by, running an inch or two below a sheer yet 
 crumbling edge of earth. That yielding softness on the 
 left meant the ridge of dry sand. His way was between 
 the two. Every now and again a watchful quack, a 
 distant flutter, told him that the ducks were not far off. 
 
THE PIVOTS OF LIFE 
 
 III 
 
 had 
 ntecl, 
 ieded 
 one 
 rcely 
 water 
 yet 
 n the 
 ween 
 ck, a 
 roff. 
 
 r 
 
 And in the east the faintest lightening' of the purple 
 warned him he was none too soon, since the dawn in 
 India comes quickly. 
 
 But this must be the place ; a sort of bunker right at 
 the end of the bank. Here, cuddling down almost lux- 
 uriously into loose dry sand, still warm from yesterday's 
 sun, he waited for that hint of light in the far east to 
 grow strong enough for him to see. 
 
 It is always an experience to sit and wait for daylight, 
 ignorant, helpless till it comes, of what lies close at 
 hand. Lance Carlyon, crouching in that still warm 
 sand, felt a sudden forlornness, a sense of having parted 
 with something. 
 
 But, almost on the heels of this, came a sense of hav- 
 ing found something ; of strange, quick, new, yet familiar 
 companionship. It seemed to him as he watched that 
 faint grey lightening in the far east, that he did so, not 
 as Lance Carlyon, but as an atom in the great, round, 
 spinning world whose curved edge grew darker against 
 the coming light. 
 
 He laid his gun beside him, and, kneeling in the soft, 
 still warm sand, rested his arms on the edge of the 
 bunker, ears and eyes alert as any wild creature's. He 
 could hear the soft rustle of feathers in the dark, the 
 soft swish of the water as something stirred in it, the 
 soft sob with which an inch or two of that tiny, unseen 
 sand-cliff gave way to the stream, the softer gurgle, as 
 of laughter, with which the water took its toll of earth. 
 
 So, thinking not at all, simply as a sand grain in the 
 sand around him, the mystery, the certainty of dawn 
 held him, as it held all things. 
 
 The curved line of the world darkened, the shadow of 
 it deepened, as the grey of the sky grew tender as the 
 eye of a mother watching her child asleep. But only 
 for a space. Then the grey hardened, and a trumpet 
 call from a wliistling teal told that the great fight of 
 dawn had come. 
 
 So, for another space, the Dark and the Light faced 
 eacli other, waiting for that second trumpet call. 
 
 ii 
 
 ii. 
 
112 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 m\ 
 
 It came, borne on a faint rustle of wind which crept 
 over the edge of the world from the footsteps of the com- 
 ing day. The shiver of it swept through the shadows ; 
 they broke into battalions to face the foe. So into 
 companies, till, as the red spear-points of the sun 
 showed over the horizon, they rallied darkly, desper- 
 ately, behind each hint of rising ground, in each hint of 
 sheltering hollow. Rallied in vain, for below the spear- 
 points a glittering curve, as of a golden helmet, came 
 resistless. 
 
 Then Lance Carlyon stood up, hastily, gun in hand. 
 But he was too late. The mystery of Dawn had held 
 him helpless, as it had held the birds ; and now they, 
 too, were freemen of the conquering day. 
 
 He fired a couple of shots after them, more as a 
 salute to the victor than in any hope of slaughter ; so, 
 with a laugh, turned homeward. 
 
 The canoe shot against the stream gaily, but, as he 
 neared the spit, a sudden desire to go home by land 
 assailed him. Am-ma could take the boat back ; there 
 might be a chance of a snipe, in that low-lying bit below 
 the mission house, and — 
 
 He blushed, even in solitude, at his own moral 
 turpitude. Why not tell the truth ; to himself, at 
 least > 
 
 He found Am-ma, worn out by his night's anxiety, 
 with his head between his knees, fast asleep ; leaving 
 the crocodile, at the agony point of an unending yawn, 
 in sole charge of the little circle of flickering lights. 
 Some of them had gone out, the rest looked trumpery 
 in the growing blaze of day. But what matter } Since, 
 half an hour before, Erda Shepherd had come out of the 
 wigwam with a living child, wrapped quite daintily in 
 an orthodox square of new flannel. 
 
 " It is a son, Am-ma, and I think it is very like you," 
 she had said, with a laugh at the wrinkled, wizened old 
 face peering out at its new world. 
 
 But Am-ma had grovelled on the ground with tears 
 and cries of blubbering joy. He had been right. The 
 
THE PrVOTS OF LIFE 
 
 "3 
 
 \\ 
 
 >» 
 
 tears 
 The 
 
 Huzoors were kings. They knew the Dee-puk-rdg. They 
 were the Hght-bringers, the life-bringers. 
 
 He had never asked after his wife, but when Erda 
 had gone inside again, he sat, and in his anxiety to 
 keep the devil from those inside, had twitched away at 
 his string so fiercely that the crocodile's head lost its 
 . ferocity in what appeared to be a fit of laughter, until 
 sleep, from sheer relief, overtaking the puller, the laugh 
 had ended in that steady yawn. 
 
 Am-ma was on his feet, alert in a second, however, 
 at Lance's touch, like a wild beast. 
 
 " 'Tis all right, Hiizoor,'' he grinned broadly. " 'Tis 
 a son." Then once again the exuberaM.e of his delight 
 made him grovel in the sand at the feet of the Master. 
 
 " And the W\?>^-sahiba ? Hath she gone } " asked 
 Lance, blushing once more, now that his own self- 
 deception became impossible. 
 
 " Nay, she remains inside," asserted Am-ma, But a 
 look which he gave in the hut proved him wrong. She 
 must have gone out the other way while he slept, he 
 confessed, sheepishly ; but there was nothing wrong. 
 The devil had not won a way in ; both mother and son 
 were dozing peacefully. 
 
 Lance, his hope of walking back with Erda gone, felt 
 inclined to take to the canoe again. Then a savage de- 
 sire to kill something, at least, suggested the possibility 
 of a snipe in the little swampy bit below the city wall, 
 not far from the mission house ; so bidding Am-ma take 
 the canoe up at his leisure, he walked off, feeling, for him, 
 in a very bad temper. 
 
 He forgot his quarrel with fate, however, in a second, 
 when, the bit of swamp reached, something buzzed up 
 to fall slantwise like a stone ; something which, on pick- 
 ing it up, he found to be the rare Sabine snipe, painted, 
 absolutely beautiful, in its delicate harmony of colour. 
 And the luck did not come singly, for from behind a 
 clump of tiger-grass came Erda Shepherd, a trifle 
 alarmed at the possibility of being shot if she did not 
 show herself. 
 
 I 
 
 . i 
 
 
fir: 
 
 pi 
 
 I i! 
 
 Ill 
 
 ^if 
 
 'T:? 
 
 114 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Lance walked up to her, swiftly, the dead bird in his 
 hand. " You must be awfully tired, being up all night," 
 he began — 
 
 He had a way of rushing things, Erda thought, which 
 was disconcerting when one was anxious to keep on the 
 surface. "And you too, Mr. Carlyon," she interrupted ; 
 "did you enjoy the ball .•* " She felt pleased at this able 
 evasion. 
 
 " Who — I — Oh ! dear me, no," he replied, absently ; 
 then he smiled. •* I say, wasn't Am-ma pleased. He 
 slobbered and blubbered with joy all over my boots, and 
 yet — " ne paused reflectively, "I don't think a little 
 Am-ma could be a very pleasing object." 
 
 For the life of her she could not help a smile. " It 
 was not," she confessed frankly ; ** in fact I think it was 
 the ugliesc baby I ever saw. Poor little thing," she 
 added in quick self-reproach. " Anyhow it seemed beau- 
 tiful to them — it is the first — the first that has lived, I 
 mean." She pulled up short, wondering what possessed 
 her to be so confidential with this strange young man. 
 
 " So Am-ma told me," said Lance. "He called you 
 the Life-bringer. It is a nice name." 
 
 She fought against the tenderness in his tone. " And 
 you are the Death-bringer," fhe retorted lightly, point- 
 ing to the painted beauty in his hand. " So you and I 
 are at opposite poles, Mr. Carlyon." 
 
 He stood looking at her for a moment with a smile. 
 "I don't know. Miss Shepherd. 'Death and Birth are 
 the pivots of the Wheel of Lifc^ I remember reading 
 that, in Sanskrit, when I went up for my higher ; for 
 I've passed it, you know. I'm really not bad at languages 
 when I try." 
 
 It was the first time she had ever heard him claim 
 credit for anything, and the fact touched her more than 
 she cared to own. Touched her so closely that she 
 sought instantly for cover. 
 
 " I wish I were," she said, moving on, though, as she 
 had known he would, he moved on also. " I'm afraid 
 I shall find it a great trouble having to learn a new one." 
 
THE PIVOTS OF LIFE 
 
 "5 
 
 ^ou 
 
 are 
 
 ling 
 for 
 
 she 
 
 "A new one," he echoed quickly, in reponse to some- 
 thing in her voice. " Are you going to leave Eshuara 
 — soon ?" 
 
 She paused for a moment ere replying. " Sooner than 
 I expected, Mr. Carlyon ; most likely in a day or two. 
 I don't know whether you have heard," she continued, 
 looking him in the face, "but I am engaged to be mar- 
 ried to my cousin — Dr. Campbell's son — David Camp- 
 bell. He is a missionary — as I am — and — " she 
 hesitated. " He is at home, — or was. We did not ex- 
 pect him back for two months, but he has had a good 
 offer of a splendid place where there is any amount of 
 work to be done. The letter telling us this came yester- 
 day — by the same mail as — as he did. He is travel- 
 ling up country now ; and then — " 
 
 " And then } " said Lance, quietly. With his gun over 
 his shoulder, he looked what he was, a soldier ; and since 
 she began to speak, he had, insensibly, pulled himself 
 together and fallen into a disciplined ordered tread. 
 
 " My aunt wants the wedding to be from the mission 
 station, in the low hills where they go every summer," 
 went on the girl. She was trying not to look at her 
 companion, not out of pity, but from dread of her own 
 admiration. "So as David " — she felt better after the 
 semi-appropriation of the Christian name — "is in a 
 hurry to start, she thought of going there a-^ soon as the 
 camp leaves — in a day or two. So — so — wc shall not see 
 very much more of each other, Mr. Carlyon; shall we.-*" 
 
 He gave her his first look of reproach, being unable, 
 in his absolutely honest humility, to conceive of the 
 vague regret which forced her to the useless appeal. 
 
 "I — I hope you will be very happy," he said, quite 
 simply. " Take care, please ; that bit is boggier than you 
 think." For the second time in their short acquaintance 
 she felt his hand, not as a friend's, but as a helper, a 
 protector. This time the blood left her face pale. 
 
 " I hope so, Mr. Carlyon," she replied, and her hands 
 clasped themselves tightly as if to hold .>ome resolve. 
 " It is what I have always hoped for, thought of." Then 
 
 I .' 
 
M'l >|!| 
 
 iin Hi! 
 
 m 
 
 
 ii6 
 
 77//S HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 suddenly she smiled at him almost appealingly. " I am 
 a bit of a soldier too, you know — I love the fighting." 
 
 "You are in the thick of it here, anyhow," he inter- 
 rupted, pausing. 
 
 They had climbed by a flight of steps through the city 
 wall into the small courtyard on which the mission 
 house, which had once been an outpost of the Fort, 
 opened on its inner side. The outer, with its wide over- 
 hanging verandah, forming part of the actual city wall. 
 But the remainder of the courtyard was set round by a 
 perfect congeries of small temples, each rearing its up- 
 right stone spire — the stone of Baal worship — about 
 the central tank which occupied the middle of the square. 
 It was quite a small tank, and absolutely dry ; so that 
 you could see the four or five worn stone steps which 
 led down to the patch of earth, not six feet square, at 
 the bottom. A dozen or more children, boys and girls 
 of the streets, were playing a sort of hop-scotch on these 
 steps, and as Lance looked, one of them slipped and fell 
 into that patch of earth. In a second the others had 
 quitted their game, and fallen pell-mell, too, struggling, 
 kicking, shouting, screaming with laughter. 
 
 " Is it a game } " he asked, looking at his companion, 
 amused. 
 
 " Yes ! " she said, suddenly, her face stern as he had 
 seen it that first time he met her. " It is the game of 
 Life and Death ! That is the ' Pool of Immortality,* 
 Mr. Carlyon ! The pilgrims come here to bathe — there 
 must be a secret siphon somewhere, for the water only 
 comes when it is wanted. Three years ago the barriers 
 put up to prevent accidents gave way — it was no one's 
 fault. The crowd got in — a man slipped — and — and 
 when the police managed to clear the crush — the — the 
 tank was full up with dead bodies ! The children play 
 at it now ! " 
 
 But they had spied more amusement, and in another 
 second were hanging round Erda's skirts. 
 
 " Sing to us, Wx^^-saJiiba, — sing to us before you 
 go in." 
 
WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS 
 
 117 
 
 am 
 
 . >> 
 
 \ t^ looked apologetically at Lance. "I generally 
 do," she began. 
 
 He raised his cap, almo'i.t obediently, with a brief 
 "Certainly," and passed on ; but as he left the court on 
 his way to the Fort, the first note of her voice made him 
 turn, for a second, to look. 
 
 She was seated on the top step of the tank, the chil- 
 dren grouped inquisitively round her, and she held her 
 head high — almost defiantly. 
 
 " The Son of God goes forth to war^ 
 Who follows in His train ? " 
 
 The words were distinctly audible, following him as 
 he passed on, the gun on his shoulder, the dead bird in 
 his hand, and something between blessing and cursing 
 in his heart. But above and through all, he seemed to 
 hear a never-ceasing voice that said, " The pivots of Life 
 are Birth and Death. Death and Birth,^* 
 
 I 
 
 \ |l 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 you 
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS 
 
 " Half a minute, Dillon ! " said the Commissioner 
 abruptly, as the doctor, ushered in by a scarlet-sin- 
 stain of an orderly, entered the tent where the former 
 was working. " I must attend to these gentlemen first." 
 
 These gentlemen were Dya Ram, Ramanund, and a 
 third very different sort of person, obtrusively Hindoo 
 in face, figure, attire. 
 
 The Commissioner's manner, as he returned to the 
 business in hand, changed from careless familiarity to 
 an elaborate courtesy. 
 
 "I quite understand, /ww^zV-i-^/zz^," he said in English 
 to Ramanund, " that you are, as you say, actuated by no 
 personal motive. A man of your attainments and cul- 
 ture can scarcely feel a keen interest in jogi Gorakh- 
 
 ihi 
 
 f ft 
 
 k 
 
 ».^ 
 
 W 
 
1 1' il 
 
 i ■ 
 
 1. 
 
 ii8 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 n^th's — that is the name, I think — domicile in a gun 
 barrel!" 
 
 The sarcasm was lost on the hearer, who smiled, satis- 
 fied. "Quite so, sir," he replied. "It is merely, as 
 m) friend Dya Ram postulates, a question as to the 
 legality — ■" 
 
 The Commissioner interrupted him suavely. "In 
 that cas^ it is a matter for the courts, surely." 
 
 " Unless your Honour should, as magistrate, act 
 under Section 418 providing for emergencies," began 
 Dya Ram ; whereat the official sat back in his chair 
 resignedly. 
 
 " Of course," he answered, his brogue running riot, 
 as it always did, when he was contemptuous, " I ha/e 
 Vhat power. But do ye really think, sir, that this pres- 
 ent matter is of such paramount importance to the sta- 
 bility of the British Empire, that I should be justified in 
 running counter to the ordinary course of law and 
 justice .•* " Here the futility of his own sarcasm seemed 
 to come home to him. He paused to consult a file, and 
 when he looked up again, he spoke in Hindustani — 
 evidently for the benefit of the third party. "There is 
 no record whatever," he said briefly, "of any previous 
 claim to the gun. It has been worshipped, of course ; 
 but that is a different matter. The military power has 
 no intention of interfering with this habit. I may add 
 that a counter petition, praying me not to allow appeal 
 on the ground that this jogi is a man of ill fame, and a 
 public nuisance, has been filed by the viohiint (guardian 
 of shrines) at the Pool of Immortality." 
 
 The obtrusively Hindoo figure which had remained 
 standing, though his companions were seated, here 
 folded his hands as if in prayer, leant forward, and 
 began garrulously : — 
 
 ^^ Huzoorl it is malice — malice of hereditary nature. 
 They hope to gain money — " 
 
 "Exactly, Mohimt-jec ; your money! if the pilgrims 
 haven't the attraction of a live man in a gun close to 
 your shrine your trade will suffer," interrupted the 
 
WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS 
 
 119 
 
 In 
 
 Ined 
 lere 
 land 
 
 ire. 
 
 tims 
 to 
 the 
 
 Commissioner, with brutal truth. " I am afraid I can do 
 nothing. Of course," he continued, reverting to Eng- 
 Hsh, ''if you bring a suit to claim prescriptive right, you 
 may," here his patience gave way finally, " but God bless 
 my soul, gentlemen ! Surely men like you have some- 
 thing better to do than bolster up your countrymen in a 
 preposterous business like this ! " 
 
 " Pardon me, sir," protested Dya Ram, litigiously, 
 "but if it is prescriptive right, vested in citizens, 
 then — " 
 
 "Then, sir!" interrupted the stern, high voice, "the 
 British Empire will have no choice but to allow jogi 
 Gorakh-nath to be a son-of-a-gun till the day of his 
 death! So good-morning to you; unless — " here the 
 suavity returned in full force — "there is any other sub- 
 ject you wish to bring forward." 
 
 There was not, apparently ; and as the trio were ush- 
 ered out, the Commissioner sat still further back in his 
 chair, tilting it with his feet against the table, and ran 
 his fingers through his hair in an exasperated fashion. 
 
 "Ton my soul, it's inconceivable," he said; then, 
 reaching forward, took up a newspaper that was lying 
 on the table, and began to read. 
 
 "7/" ive arc asked what zve, the edneated natives of 
 India, claim, zve reply boldly, all tJmigs that English- 
 vicn of equal culture possess by right of birth. We 
 refuse fla-ly to be lumped in with the crass ignorance of 
 our fellozv-countrymen zuho have, alas I not yet risen to 
 a pitch of desiring that liberty of zvhich John Stuart 
 Mill speaks in such glowing terms in his valuable 
 pamphlet'' 
 
 " Hark to that, now ! " he commented, flinging the 
 paper back. "That's Mr. Dya Ram's last, and it goes 
 on, as per usual, to abuse. They asked me to put a 
 name to it, and I've just been telling the confidential 
 depaicment that, barring a horrible misuse of synonym, 
 there's no sedition, no harm in it whatever ! And there 
 isn't, Dillon, The son-of-?t-gun business is ten times as 
 dangerous. Dering's within his rights, but 1 wish to 
 
 I 
 
r 
 
 120 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I' 
 
 ( K\ 
 
 blazes he'd left the brute alone ; or he might have put a 
 blank cartridge in and fired a salute by mistake when 
 Gorakh-nAth was inside ! But ye can't keep the military 
 in subjection. The department's aimin' at a fight, and 
 small blame to it ! I'm spoiling for one myself this 
 instant moment ; so come along, doctor, an' let me hear 
 what your criminals have to say. There's a pretty sheaf 
 of complaints for ye, ye hard-hearted murderin' slave 
 driver ! " 
 
 He took up a bulky file of papers as he spoke, and 
 passed them to an orderly in exchange for his hat, which 
 the man held ready. 
 
 " Yes ! it's pretty good," assented the doctor, placidly, 
 as, keeping step, the two passed out of the tent, so 
 down the palm avenue towards the gaol, which the Com- 
 missioner was going to inspect. " It comes of their being 
 idle. Wait till I get them digging again. I'll work the 
 mischief out of them. When are we going on; and where.?" 
 
 His companion shook his head. "Can't get an 
 answer out of the Public Works. Is there anything 
 you would like done, meanwhile.?" 
 
 Dr. Dillon laughed sardonically. "Pretty considerable, 
 rather! Only it would take months to get sanction. 
 But, if you pass it, Smith says he could put a wire on 
 from the Fort easily in a day. It would save sending by 
 road if there was trouble, and the great thing is to hit 
 back as quick as you can. The mutiny taught us that." 
 
 "Ay," said the Commissioner, musingly, "that's the 
 straight tip ; and that's why steam and electricity rule 
 India. One can be ready without letting people know. 
 If that had been the case in the mutiny — " he shrugged 
 his shoulders, then went on — "these things come so 
 easily ; a touch starts them ; but you mustn't show that 
 you know it. Still, if you thought there would be any 
 difficulty — I mean if you mightn't be able to hold your 
 own till they came from the Fort — we might make some 
 excuse for quartering a troop closer." 
 
 Dr. Dillon shook his head. " It isn't worth it. I be- 
 lieve myself they'll settle down when that big brute, 
 
WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS 
 
 121 
 
 ?" 
 
 :now. 
 
 igged 
 
 le so 
 
 that 
 
 any 
 
 your 
 
 I some 
 
 I be- 
 )rute, 
 
 Gopi, I told you about, gets his ticket to-morrow. If I 
 didn't want to get rid of him I'd put him in cells for 
 six weeks. And there's a warder, too, — or perhaps 
 more. But there's no fear. I could hold the whole 
 ' biz ' myself, till the brutes managed to get off their leg 
 irons, and as I keep every tool extra imiral, I don't be- 
 lieve there's a bit of iron within the walls — except the 
 shackles themselves. So I should have an hour or two, 
 anyhow — " 
 
 '* Now, here you are," he continued, with pardonable 
 pride, as they passed under the mud archway which led 
 into the gaol ; a long archway with a massive door at 
 either end, tunnelling a square block of flat-roofed build- 
 ing. "You'll find everything spick and span, I can tell 
 you, for I've been making the beggars polish their own 
 leg irons, so as to keep 'em a bit busy." 
 
 It was, indeed, spick and span, as only an Indian gaol 
 can be, where everything, including the prisoners' beds, 
 is freshly mud-plastered every week. Spick and span 
 in a mere monotony of mud and lack of colour. The 
 prisoners, fifteen hundred of them or more, stood in four 
 long, straight rows, naked save for their waistcloths and 
 the eared caps on their shaven heads ; their blankets, 
 folded to a small square under their feet, giving them a 
 strangely wooden appearance, as if they stood on stands, 
 like the figures in Noah's ark. 
 
 A couple of policemen fell out and drew their trun- 
 cheons to walk close behind the Commissioner ; but Dr. 
 Dillon waved his pair back. 
 
 " Never show you expect anything," he said laconi- 
 cally, "and as I've always refused a guard, I can't take 
 one now." 
 
 Nor was there any apparent need for one. Some faces 
 scowled at him, but most were occupied with the Com- 
 missioner, who, when a prisoner raised his hand, paused 
 to take the written petition which, nine times out of ten, 
 was ready for presentation. 
 
 "There must be a good many warders in it," remarked 
 the Commissioner, dryly. And the doctor nodded. 
 
 ' I- 
 < I i 
 
 i 'J 
 
 n. 
 
122 
 
 THE HOSTS OF TIIF. LORD 
 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 **Now there's only the hospital," said the latter, when 
 the solitary cells had been inspected, the cook room in- 
 terviewed, and the dinner to come tasted. " It won't 
 take you long. There was only one case in this 
 morning." 
 
 But as they entered the long open ward, like a cloister, 
 mud-plastered as all else, but with iron beds lookinp- 
 strangely at variance with their surroundings, two of 
 these were occupied, and at one, a hospital dresser was 
 standing, looi 'ng somewhat scared. 
 
 Dr. Dillon gave a hasty exclamation as he stepped up 
 to the bed and looked at the sick man. 
 
 " When did he come in } " he asked briefly. 
 
 "Ten minutes ago, Husoor ; the baboo hath given 
 him—" 
 
 "Never mind what he hath given him," interrupted 
 the doctor, holding up his hand in warning, " go on with 
 it, and tell the baboo-sahib to come to me for orders — at 
 once. Now then, sir, that's all — and a bit too much 
 too — " he added in a lower voice, as they passed out 
 together, "for it's a case of cholera." 
 
 The Commissioner looked grave. "That will compli- 
 cate matters, won't it ?" 
 
 "Can't say. You ne"er can tell. They may take it as a 
 dispensation, or there may never be another case. That 
 fellow's done for, anyhow — he'll be dead in an hour." 
 
 " That's quick, isn't it } " asked his companion, calmly. 
 
 " Rather. I've seen a man go out in ten minutes, 
 though. The worst of it is," he added, with a frown, " if 
 there really is some conspiracy at the bottom of the dis- 
 content, it is as likely as not the devils who are work- 
 ing it, may take advantage of this — I don't mean of 
 this death — that goes without saying. But when 
 cholera is about, poison is hard to detect, and even 
 if I stamp out the disease, which I mean to do, they 
 may simulate it." He bit at his thumbnail viciously as 
 he strode on, thinking and muttering. " By God ! " he 
 murmured, " if I could catch 'em at it ! However," he 
 added aloud, " it's no good fussing. If the thing comes, 
 
WHEELS WITiriN WHEELS 
 
 123 
 
 when 
 5m in- 
 won't 
 1 this 
 
 oister, 
 
 Dokinp- 
 :wo of 
 er was 
 
 ped up 
 
 given 
 
 Tiiptcd 
 )n with 
 rs — at 
 ) much 
 ,ed out 
 
 :ompli- 
 
 it as a 
 
 That 
 
 h)> 
 our. 
 
 :almly. 
 
 Minutes, 
 
 m, 
 
 "if 
 
 the dis- 
 
 work- 
 
 lean of 
 
 when 
 
 even 
 
 lo, they 
 
 ]usly as 
 
 1!" he 
 
 |er," he 
 
 1 comes, 
 
 it comes, and I've kept you here too long as it is, sir. 
 Do you know it's close on half-past ten ?" 
 
 "Be jabers ! " exclaimed the Commissioner, "only 
 twenty minutes to bathe, shave, breakfast, and put on 
 me gold lace continuations. Well, ta, ta ! I'll see you 
 at the show, of course." 
 
 Dr. Dillon looked puzzled for an instant ; the puzzlc- 
 dom of a man whose thoughts arc recalled from afar. 
 "The show } Oh, yes ! I was forgetting. Rather, sir. 
 Why! it is as much my canal as Smith's, for we've 
 done every inch of it together ; besides, I have got to 
 drive his wife down." 
 
 "Where the deuce is Dering.^*" asked the Commis- 
 sioner, quite ingenuously ; but George Dillon flushed 
 up. It was visible even under his leather-like tan. 
 
 " I really can't say, sir ; otherwise engaged, I pre- 
 sume." 
 
 His elder turned to him, surprised, yet with instant 
 apology. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said it; but I 
 really meant nothing." 
 
 Dr. Dillon gave a dry, sardonic laugh. " Oh ! it is 
 all right, sir. I quite believe you didn't. Nobody does 
 mean anything in that sort of connection. It's left for 
 the doctors to face facts as they are really ; and then 
 you call us brutal." He turned back, as he spoke, to 
 the hospital. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, however, having in the interim 
 provided for every contingency he could foresee, includ- 
 ing the bare possibility of his carrying infection, he 
 appeared in Mrs. Smith's drawing-room, looking — for 
 him — quite smart and spruce; since, as he had said, 
 this end to three years' work was an event in his life 
 also. 
 
 He found her, dressed in her daintiest, in a rocking- 
 chair ; and as he entered, his quick trained ear took in 
 the petulance of the recurring push of one daintily hhod 
 foot. The room was darkened, and full of the scent of 
 flowers. It was a familiar room to him, vet he never 
 entered it without a glad recognition of the extreme 
 
 I 
 
 ry 
 
124 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 f 
 
 \i 
 
 V riii'! 
 
 ^ m 
 
 m ^ 1 
 
 feminine refinement shown in its every detail; for its 
 mistress was one of those women whose fragility comes 
 less from physical delicacy than from sensitiveness of 
 mind. 
 
 She was leaning back in her chair listlessly ; yet the 
 white ringed hands which clasped the fair curls on her 
 forehead showed an almost passionate strain of muscle. 
 
 " I believe you'll have to go without me," she said, as 
 he approached, " I've such a racking headache. I don't 
 believe I can face it — I'm sure I can't." 
 
 He passed on to her side, and laid his hand on one of 
 hers for an instant, while his quick eye took in the de- 
 tails around him. A note had slipped from her lap to 
 the floor. It lay face up, and the words " Dear Mrs. 
 Smith, so sorry — " showed in Vincent Bering's writ- 
 ing. So, not content with the message of excuse sent 
 her by the offender through him, she must have written ! 
 That was a dangerous development of the situation. He 
 stood looking down at her indulgently, as he might on a 
 fractious child who did not understand. And she did 
 not — poor soul ! 
 
 " You're nervous," he said. " Let me give you half a 
 whiskey-and-soda before we start. It'll make you all 
 right." 
 
 " Nervous ! " she echoed irritably, her foot setting her 
 chair a-swing to match her tone. " I'm never nervous — 
 you know that is no^ one of my failings — is it }'' 
 
 " No," he replied ' but you are a bundle of nerves for 
 all that. You wouldn't be the woman you are if you 
 weren't. And you are nervous at this moment. Ner- 
 vous, despondent, out of heart. Come ! make an ef- 
 fort ! " 
 
 She gave a petulant little giggle of impatience. "You 
 speak as if I were a Mrs. Dombey ; but I'm not that 
 sort. Besides, it killed her. I am not coming. It doesn't 
 really matter, you know; nobody will miss me — it will 
 be all ri^ht." 
 
 George Dillon, watching her, felt sorry, for once, at 
 the correctness of his own diagnosis. He knew her so 
 
 h 
 k 
 
WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS 
 
 125 
 
 es for 
 you 
 
 Ner- 
 1 ef- 
 
 well that it seemed imperative to give her a hint of the 
 reality. The danger of a final ^claircisscment with Cap- 
 tain Dering seemed imminent, and the shock of it might 
 lead to anything, if the knowledge of her own weakness 
 came to her in the presence of the man she had cheated 
 herself into calling a friend. 
 
 " Your husband would. It is a great day for him," he 
 said, laying his dexterous surgeon's hand full on the 
 raw. As he expected, the answer came passionately, 
 and gave him an opening. 
 
 " He ! O, he is quite happy as it is ! He wouldn't 
 miss me a bit. Why should he } I am not complaining, 
 mind you — but why should he.-* He has interests 
 enough without me." 
 
 Dr. Dillon deliberately sought for the nearest chair, 
 drew it close, and sat down beside his patient in profes- 
 sional fashion, his eyes on her face, his hands on his 
 knees. 
 
 "My dear lady," he said, "don't talk — -excuse me — 
 rubbish. Try and remember what women are always 
 forgetting — that they are women, and that, while Eve 
 swallowed her portion of the fatal apple, his stuck — 
 thank God for it ! — in Adam's throat." 
 
 She ceased her rocking, to sit and stare at him with 
 a grovving reserxtment, which belied the words that came 
 at last, almost sullenly. 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean in the very least. 
 What has Eve's apple to do with — my headache } " 
 
 " A very great deal," he answered coolly, " and with 
 more than your headache, which, by the way, is only a 
 symptom, not a cause. The real evil is — is something 
 different. If you do not understand — though I think 
 you do a little — " she shook her head — "I can only 
 repeat my advice about the whiskey-and-soda ; for I can- 
 not explain to you crudely what I mean." 
 
 She interrupted him angrily. " You have no right to 
 hint at things you dare not say." 
 
 Her very indignation betrayed her, and he smiled 
 kindly. *' Perhaps not," he said. Then he paused, has- 
 
 f 
 
 i''^ 
 
uv 
 
 126 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 M 
 
 itated, finally leant nearer, with a look of resolve in his 
 queer, intelligent face. " But I will tell you what I can 
 do. I can sacrifice my self-respect and tell you a bit of 
 rny personal history which I never meant yoi to know, 
 but which may help to cure — your headache." His voice, 
 usually so dry, had a softness in it, though he went on 
 vv^ithout the faintest emotion. " Mrs. Smith, I have 
 done myself the honour for nearly three years, of consid- 
 ering you as near perfection as a woman can be. Allow 
 me to finish, please ! I have done more. I have been, 
 as the phrase runs, in love with my ideal of perfection ; 
 but I think you will admit that I have never allowed my 
 feelings to give you, myself, or anyone else a — shall we 
 say, a nervous headache .'' Now, after that, don't you 
 think we had better start } " 
 
 He rose in quite a matter-of-fact way, took up his 
 hat, and waited ioi her answer. 
 
 He had to wait some time, while the petulance of her 
 renewed rocking ceased gradually in a determined 
 rhythm, and he felt his courage going down to his boots. 
 It was heroic treatment, but she was a healthy subject, 
 and her anger would pass. Anything was better than 
 letting her perfection suffer. 
 
 The even creak of the rocker ended at last, and she 
 rose, as he had risen, calmly, and faced him. 
 
 " I quite understand now what you meant. Dr. Dil- 
 lon," she said freezingly, "and why you did not care to 
 explain. I shall, of course, never be able to forgive you 
 for daring to dream such a thing possible, but — " 
 
 " But," he interrupted, without a quiver, " you will 
 take that half whiskey-and-soda. Here! qiii-hi ! Whis- 
 key sJiardb beldtee pani la'o jtddi; ni cm-sahib a jata hai. 
 (Bring whiskey-and-soda ; the mem is going.)" 
 
 Perhaps the command of that assertion helped her to 
 a decision, ^.t any rate she did not countermand it, but 
 spent the rather awkward pause which inevitably ensued 
 in a perfect field-day of her hat-pins among her curls and 
 veil. Whereat George Dillon, despite a certain bruised 
 feeling, smiled, telling himself she was a true woman. 
 
to 
 
 to 
 mt 
 led 
 tnd 
 jed 
 
 WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS 
 
 127 
 
 Nevertheless when, as she was stepping into the dog- 
 cart, his friendly help came necessarily to the fore again, 
 she reverted to her dignified resentment. " I ought," 
 she said stiffly, "to have thanked you for — for your 
 good opinion of me, and your evident desire to be kind. 
 I do so now. But I fear it will be quite impossible for 
 me to forget or forgive the delusion." 
 
 "That is quite a minor matter," he put in, gleefully. 
 " Now, cheer up, Bacilla, you brute, or we shall be late," 
 Bacilla being his term of abuse for a pony which required 
 a little stick. 
 
 They were only just in time, no more. Five minutes 
 after they had joined the company gathered on the red- 
 brick masonry of the canal head, under a canopy of 
 waving garlands and gay bunting, with that inevitable 
 British flag as the centre of all, the small man with the 
 big star on his breast took a step forward, raised a 
 handle, and, as the first drops of water trickled through 
 a sluice, declared, in a violent Scotch accent, " that the 
 Victoria-Kaiser-i-Hind " canal was open. So, keeping 
 time as it were, slowly, majestically, to those (also inevi- 
 table) strains of " God save the Queen," the outer flood- 
 gates swung back, allowing the river to have permanent 
 possession during good behaviour, of the walled basin 
 between them and the inner ones. Thus, slowly, with a 
 gurgling of water seeking its level, the surface rose till 
 the half-open sluices in the second gates were reached, 
 and a thin curve tipped over to fall with a splash, and 
 send a tiny scout of a stieam to find out what this new 
 straight road might mean. Only a tiny scout, since the 
 earthworks beyond had to be accustomed by degrees to 
 their new tenant. 
 
 Still the new way was open, and the current of the 
 river hesitated in the old one. 
 
 " Bravo, Smith ! " cried George Dillon, com'ng round, 
 when the cheering and general congratulations were 
 over, to slap his colleague on the back, metaphorically 
 and actually. " We've done that ; and now perhaps, old 
 man, you'll have time for other things." 
 
 !i. 
 
 ,'! 
 
 |: il 
 
hi- 
 
 128 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 tt 
 
 M 
 
 Yes, assented the tall, gaunt man, dreamily; "now 
 I shall have time to settle that point about the search- 
 light." 
 
 " The what ? " 
 
 " Search-light. There's been a correspondence in the 
 Engineer about it ; and as I've all the electric plant 
 here, lying useless, now the show's over, — until it's 
 wanted for something else, of course, — I am going to 
 see if I can't overcome their difficulty in concentrating 
 all the power on a sufficiently narrow area. I believe 
 I know how to do it." 
 
 George Dillon looked at him with fierce, humorous 
 exasperation. " Believe ! " he echoed. " I know you 
 can ! You are the most intolerably circumscribed, self- 
 concentrated, narrow-minded machine of a man I ever 
 came across. Heaven help you ! " 
 
 As he drove Mrs. Smith home again, it was his turn 
 to sit mumchance until, womanlike, she relented faintly, 
 and, exaggerating her own powers, trusted she had not 
 been, etc., though of course, etc, — 
 
 •'• Not in the least, thank you," he replied. " I was 
 only meditating if I should tell you that I think Eugene 
 has softening of the brain." 
 
 " Softening of the brain ! " she echoed, horrified. 
 "Oh, doctor, do you think it's that?" 
 
 "Well, it isn't softening of the heart, anyhow," he 
 said grimly. " But I'm not joking. If someone doesn't 
 get a hold on some portion of that man — I don't care 
 what it is — heart, brain, stomach, anything — and pre- 
 vent him from killing himself with work, India will lose 
 her best engineer. What he wants is someone to — to 
 give him a nervous headache ! " 
 
 "We will leave that subject alone, please," she said 
 loftily ; but when her husband joined them in the 
 verandah, she went over ostentatiously to him and 
 pinned a carnation in his buttonhole, hoping he would 
 like it better than the rose she gave him the day be- 
 fore, which — this was in a louder tone for the doctor's 
 benefit — he had forgotten to put in ! 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 129 
 
 " Did I, my dear ? " replied her spouse. " Oh, yes ! 
 I remember you put it in my minim glass because I 
 was working in my shirt-sleeves. Then I wanted the 
 glass. So it got withered and the head snapped off." 
 
 Dr. Dillon laughed — his usual dry laugh. "That 
 is one of the many tragedies which come from the de- 
 lusion all women have that flowers can't be out of 
 place." 
 
 CHAPTER XII ' 
 
 you 
 self- 
 
 -ified. 
 
 he 
 
 lesn't 
 
 care 
 
 pre- 
 
 11 lose 
 
 — to 
 
 said 
 I the 
 and 
 rould 
 ly be- 
 Ictor's 
 
 THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 When Roshan Khan had joined those two great sta- 
 bilities, Faith and Love, into one passionate desire for 
 Vincent Dering's damnation, he had meant to follow 
 the English etiquette on such occasions, and keep his 
 aspiration to himself. 
 
 But it had been impossible for him instantly to rejoin 
 the society in which he found himself ; that is, a society 
 which shared that fundamental crime — which more 
 even than any definite jealousy had roused his anger 
 against Captain Dering — of being alien to his creed, 
 his customs, his code of conduct towards women. So 
 he had wandered off into the garden again, shadowed 
 by old Akbar's incredulity, curiosity, and sympathy ; 
 until, partly from sheer impatience, but mostly from 
 sheer inherited habit of employing such as Akbar Khan 
 in anything approaching an intrigue, he had made a 
 clean breast of the situation. 
 
 Even the latter, however, had, as it were, shied at the 
 extreme novelty of the idea when it was first mooted ; 
 bul, by degrees, its vast possibilities of advantage to 
 faithful old retainers overpowered his abject terror 
 at the bare idea of Father Nardyan suspecting such a 
 thing. The old master, he told himself, was old, in- 
 deed ! God only knew if he would last a year or a day ; 
 therefore it would be well to ensure the favour of the 
 new mistress. And there could be no harm in sound- 
 
 I i 
 
 i 
 
 -> 
 
130 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 t ;/ ' 
 
 1 IJI ! 
 
 ing her as to what course that favour would follow. 
 One could never tell with a woman ; and his wicked, 
 experienced old eyes had caught many a hint of Anari 
 Begum in Laila's childhood. Perhaps she had changed 
 since she went to Calcutta. He could but try. 
 
 So when, on the morning after the ball, Laila, in 
 obedience to her pious resolve to do nothing really 
 wrong, had bidden him — with threats of vengeance if 
 he betrayed the fact of their having come at all — 
 remove and return certain trays of clothes and jewels 
 which had been smuggled by someone into her room, 
 he had fallen at her feet, confessed falsely that he 
 was the offender, and besought her not to impose so 
 unmerited a disgrace on his employer, who had been 
 actuated by the ordinary rules of native etiquette which 
 prescribed some recognition of his cousin, the head 
 of his family. 
 
 Naturally enough, this brought the girl's curiosity, 
 long restless, to his aid ; anr" she sat listening to the 
 many things he had to tell her, with that faintly myste- 
 rious smile of hers. And as she listened, she watched 
 a pigeon, all jewelled about its bosom in rainbow hues, 
 and with a dainty little pair of silver jingles about its 
 jasper feet, which was coquetting and pirouetting to 
 attract the attention of its neighbours on the wide mar- 
 ble sill of her latticed window. For Laila had a room 
 in the upper storey all painted, carved, and set with 
 little balconies, which was worthy of any king's 
 favourite. And Father Ninian, mindful lingeringly 
 of the fine ladies' boudoirs of his youth in Rome, had 
 filled it, against her return from school, with all the 
 prettiest spoils of the palace. Sevres vases, rare old 
 cabinets, quaint carved tables which had been brought 
 thither for the dead Nawabs ; treasures that were also, 
 inevitably, of the king's-favourite type, — therefore 
 unlike the owner of the room, as she sat in her white 
 muslin frock, heavy-eyed, almost sallow, from the last 
 night's dissipation. 
 
 "So she — my grandmo "ler, you ?ay — was a dancing- 
 
 lUii, :! 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 131 
 
 girl — a real dancing-girl?" Even her surprise and 
 curiosity were listless. Yet the next moment, while 
 Akbar was protesting the superiority of Anari Begum 
 over all the dancing-girls of his vast experience, she had 
 burst into a sudden laugh, uncovered one of the trays 
 with kicks which sent first one, then the other of her 
 bronze slippers flying, seized on a pair of silver anklets, 
 and there she was centring a Persian rug spread on the 
 marble floor as if she had been born to it. Coquetting, 
 pirouetting, with a challenging clash, a half-impudent 
 jerk of the jingles, for all the world like the pigeon on 
 the window-sill. 
 
 Like something else also ; so that old Akbar felt a 
 shiver run through him, lest, after all, his first impres- 
 sion should prove right, and this be no more than a 
 simulacrum, — a ghost, a changeling, come to possess the 
 usually indifferent lazy Miss-^^^^. Yet when, all of a 
 sudden, she raised her white muslin skirt high in both 
 hands and began to sing, at the top of her voice, the 
 wicked little love song which Vincent Bering had sung 
 the first day she met him, old Akbar's dread turned to 
 sheer wonder. This was not a ghost, but a devil ; reck- 
 less, unrestrained, with a fling of white arms, a kick of 
 white feet, all held to rhythm by the outrageous frivolity 
 of the song, until, with that last staccato note, she threw 
 herself in a chair, breathless, gurgling with laughter and 
 sheer mischief. 
 
 "Lo! Akbar," she gasped, "my grandmother never 
 danced like that, did she } I don't believe she was my 
 grandmother ! I believe you are telling stories ! " 
 
 Al-bar looked wise, and thrust out his folded hands 
 in cringing protest. "The most noble says true, Anari 
 Begum never danced thus. But there is the grandfather, 
 Bun-avdtar-i"rf^z^ bahadiir, to be accounted for also." 
 
 Laila frowned. The reminder brought back the other 
 side of the story, to which she had listened so often from 
 her guardian's lips, while her pretended indifference 
 masked a real pride. Of her grandfather's gallantry, his 
 good looks, his love of adventure. And of someone else, 
 
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 132 
 
 7W£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 also, who had always had a secret attraction for the girl. 
 That most beautiful woman in Rome, the companion of 
 princes, the divine singer, the best, the dearest — 
 
 Laila's laughter failed her ; she rose, and going over 
 to the window looked out absently, startling the pigeon 
 into flight. The sun turned its breast purple, and green, 
 and gold, as it fluttered down to renew its pirouetting on 
 a cupola below, just above the river. And below that 
 again was the roof of the balcony where she had sat 
 with Vincent. The girl's eyes grew soft. She under- 
 stood now. That best, that dearest, that most beautiful, 
 must have loved her guardian. That was the secret of 
 his remembrance. How could one ever forget that one 
 had sat in a balcony hand in hand } So content, yet 
 saying so little — only feeling. But he had said some 
 things. He had said she was beautiful, that she ought 
 always to wear that dress, and she had told him she could 
 not, — that she nmst send it back — that he must learn 
 to like her as much in her ordinary clothes — that he 
 would never see her in that dress again. But, after all, 
 why not — if — .'' 
 
 She turned suddenly to the go-bet veen. "There is 
 no need to take them back to-day," s^^e said, sharply ; 
 " but thou canst tell the person who sent chem — he who 
 claims cousinship — that I will not keep them, that 1 
 know nothing of them ; that he must send and /^^^ them 
 away." 
 
 Akbar, with an inward determination to do nothing 
 so palpably foolish, salaamed down to the ground. The 
 Presence, he said, in doing this showed her dignity ; it 
 was undoubtedly the right course to pursue. But, in 
 the mean time, would the Begum-W//^^ — she must 
 excuse a tongue which could not always bear with the 
 paltry present, which remembered the facts of the past, 
 the possibilities of the future — not temper her noble 
 severity with the usual courtly favour } Her cousin's 
 grandmother, a most virtuous princess, sister to the late 
 Nawab, was still alive. Her memory of Bun-avatdr-j^^z^ 
 was still so green that doubtless she would be able to 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 133 
 
 tell the Begum-j^^/^^ many things of which a mere 
 mean slave could not be cognizant. And this most vir- 
 tuous, most interesting one, had long been ?,nxious to 
 return a visit which the Vi^gMva-sahiba had graciously 
 paid her, in company with a missen-m\'i>^ — 
 
 "What! That funny old fat woman!" interrupted 
 Laila, with a laugh, " That dirty old thing ? I remem- 
 ber, she ^/^ claim to be a relation of the Nawab's. And 
 when I asked her why she wore such dirty clothes she 
 was angry, and said she had beautiful ones all tied up 
 in bundles ! I don't believe she had, though — " 
 
 "The dress the '^^^w.va-sahiba wore last night is one 
 of them," interrupted Akbar, quietly ; " it belonged to 
 Andri Begum, Husoor, and there are plenty more like it. 
 And all are really the Huzoof's ; no one else's." Laila 
 looked down on the trays with a new interest. " Did it 
 really belong to — to kerf she asked ; "and the jewels 
 also } " 
 
 "The jewels also. There are plenty of them. And 
 if Andri Begum was really the "Bcgwrn-sahiba s grand- 
 mother, then the jewels are hers by right." 
 
 "She can come if she wishes," interrupted Laila, 
 impatiently. " I see thy craft, Akbar, but I care not 
 for that. Yet it will be fun to receive her as — - as a 
 Begum. And no harr' either, since the ^nissen ladies 
 receive her, I know, c..id her like — when they will 
 come ! It will be at night, of course, to ensure her 
 privacy, so Pidar Narayan need know nothing. Only " 
 — she paused, a change swept over her face, leaving it 
 dimpled, cunning, full of mischief and cajolery. " I do 
 naught for naught ! If I please thee, thou must please 
 me I If thou art their messenger, thou must be mine 
 also ; or I tell Pidar Narayan ! " 
 
 Akbar-Khdn's wicked old eyes positively leered ap- 
 proval ; he waggled his head and chuckled. Wherefore 
 not } Was there a better, more careful messenger in 
 the world than he, or one more capable of deft arrang- 
 ings .-* 
 
 " I want none," she put in with a quick distaste, a 
 
 • 4 
 
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 1! 
 
 K. 
 
 I 
 
f 
 
 134 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 i: 
 
 shrinking from his manner. "Tis but to take a note 
 to Dering-Jrt/'/^ ; he must know somewhat before he 
 comes with the other sahib logue this afternoon. There 
 is no arrangement needed, no fuss." 
 
 How could there be, «he asked herself, as, after the 
 old sinner had gone off, charmed at this renewal of a 
 once familiar occupation, she sat on the window-sill 
 looking down on the roof of the balcony where she had 
 been so content. For what could be simpler than to 
 make it quite clear that you were real, that you did not 
 pretend, that you were not even afraid } That, briefly, 
 you were not like Mrs. Smith, who took so much — one 
 could not help seeing that! — and gave so little — one 
 could not help seeing that, also ! For what was a 
 "Thanks! many. Captain Bering," in return for all 
 the trouble he lavished on her 1 
 
 So it came to pass that when Vincent Bering went to 
 the palace that afternoon, some words were haunting 
 heart and brain, as Juliet's words must have haunted 
 Romeo's. No more ; no less. But they slid into and 
 filled up the blanks between some words of his own 
 which he had spoken carelessly, not five minutes before 
 he had first seen Laila, and which came back to his 
 memory unbidden. " It isn't altogether despicable to 
 let yourself loose in Paradise without an arri^re pejtsie 
 of flaming swords, especially if you can give pleasure to 
 someone else thereby ! One could play Romeo and 
 Juliet in this garden nicely." 
 
 Well, he had played it for an hour or two, swept off 
 his feet by chance. Whether he would continue to 
 play it was unsettled till her note came. That ended 
 his vague reluctance, and he went over to the palace, 
 eager as any lover could be for the interview she sug- 
 gested in " the old place ivhen it grows dtisk^ and the 
 people IV ill mostly have gone.'' 
 
 For those of the camp who were bound to follow the 
 Viceroy's whim of riding by the old road — the pilgrims' 
 road — while the big camp went round by the longer, 
 easier route, had promised to look in on the palace on 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 135 
 
 on 
 
 their way past it, for a cup of tea, a good-by. Since 
 already, the functions over, the dream-city had begun 
 to melt away ; the Hosts of the \^ox^-sahib were pass- 
 ing on. 
 
 "Glory be!" said the Commissioner with heart -felt 
 gratitude, " we've done our worst and leave you to take 
 the consequences. That's sound policy. Anyhow, we 
 are ahead of everybody on the road to heaven, and the 
 pilgrims will have to swallow the dust of our feet ! I 
 wonder how they'll like it." He was in wild spirits, 
 like a schoolboy escaped from school ; yet as he paused 
 to shake hands with Dr. Dillon, he said aside, "Any 
 more cases ? " 
 
 "Two," said the doctor, laconically, "both dead. It 
 is a bad type." 
 
 His hearer's face was unmovable as he turned to 
 Mrs. Smith, who stood close by. " Good-by, my dear 
 lady," he said cheerfully, " remember me house is yours 
 if you, or the child, want it. Doctor, couldn't you con- 
 scientiously recommend change of air to the hills } 
 Couldn't ye swear the close proximity to an open canal 
 and a gaol is unwholesome.^ If ye could, you'd oblige a 
 grass-widcwer, whose wife is at Baden-Baden — or is it 
 Marienbad t — living prodigally, while he has to fill him- 
 self with husks which no self-respecting swine would 
 eat. Faith, me dear madam, I'd bless you if you'd come 
 and kill the cook. It's a woman's work ; not a man's." 
 
 Dr. Dillon, with a quick look, backed him up 
 instantly. " Certainly. I told Mrs. Smith a long time 
 ago that she and Gladys had haa enough of Eshwara. 
 Indeed, as her doctor, she would be doing me a personal 
 favour if — " 
 
 Muriel Smith swept round on him "harply. She was 
 looking her very best, in her very best gown ; white, 
 mystic, wonderful, with a faint gleam of silver embroid- 
 ery about waist and hem. And she had been obtru- 
 sively, unnecessarily friendly with Vincent Dering all 
 the afternoon ; even now she was standing with him 
 attached to her apron-strings. 
 
 Mil 
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136 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 iP 
 
 itii 
 
 tifli 
 
 ii i 
 
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 II ■!;! 
 
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 13 
 
 " I don't think nervous headaches are dangerous," 
 she said, eying Dr. Dillon coolly, " But thanks all 
 the same. I should love to kill somebody ; even a cook. 
 Perhaps I may, by and by, when all the nice people leave. 
 I'm so sorry you're going, but we are still to be quite 
 gay, aren't we, Captain Dering ? And that reminds me 
 we have to settle when that riding party is to come 
 off. Good-by ! — good-by ! " She waved her hand to 
 the departing Commissioner, and carried Vincent De- 
 ring off, with a defiant look at the doctor. 
 
 He, knowing her, smiled indulgently ; but Father 
 Ninian, who had come down to see his guest off, looked 
 after her with a wistful pain in his kind old face. 
 
 " That is a mistake," he said briefly ; then the wist- 
 fulness grew into a puzzled look, and he added, half to 
 himself, "It need not be, surely; there is something 
 wrong. I can't understand — " 
 
 Dr. Dillon, catching the end of the remark, gave a 
 cynical laugh and turned on his heel. "No one does," 
 he said as he went off. He would not discuss her even 
 with dear old Pidar Narayan. For the rest, though he 
 was keen to get back to his jail, he would wait till she 
 tired of her game, and then drive her home himself to 
 her idiot of a husband, who was too busy over his blessed 
 search-light to see things that were going on under his 
 very eyes. 
 
 Captain Dering, however, was already impatient. It 
 was growing dusk ; the shadows were claiming the garden 
 bit by bit, and as the glint left the varnished leaves of 
 the orange trees, the white flowers stood out like little 
 stars against the gloom and sent a bewildering perfume 
 into the darkening air. He could see no hint of Laila 
 anywhere; Laila in that detestable white muslin gar- 
 ment which made him long vainly to get rid of the 
 surroundings which suited her so ill, drive all that civil- 
 ized crew from the garden, and claim it as his own — 
 and hers ! She must have gone to the balcony already. 
 She must be waiting for him. /.nd yet a soft-hearted- 
 ness for this other woman with whom he had been 
 
THE CHURCH MT LIT ANT 
 
 m 
 
 t> 
 
 een 
 
 friends, whom for a few days he had imagined he loved 
 (it had come to this now) forbade him from leaving her 
 cavalierly. So it was long past dusk, and the short 
 Indian twilight was hovering on the edge of night, ere 
 he made his escape ; and, full of anxiety lest Laila should 
 have lost patience or hope, hurried down to the wide 
 archway, and so, by the turn riverwards, to the right, 
 into the balcony. Most girls, he told himself, would by 
 this time have taken offence ; but she was there. 
 
 As he entered, her figure showed dimly against the 
 light beyond. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am awfully late," he began, then paused ; 
 for, as she turned, there was a faint clash of silver, a 
 faint gleam of it too. His heart gave a great tiirob of 
 glad recognition. It was Laila ! Laila indeed ! the Laila 
 of that dream last night. And she had risked tJiis to 
 please him ! 
 
 " Are )')u .-* " she said. "I thought / was la^e ; for this 
 took time; but I wanted to be the same — always the 
 same to you, always — always ! " 
 
 She stretched her hands to him, but he set them 
 aside, took her in his arms, and kissed her passionately. 
 
 " Yes ! Laila ! always Laila — my Laila ! " 
 
 She gave him back his kisses joyfully. " I knew you 
 would come," she said. " Love comes to love, you 
 know." 
 
 He called her Juliet then, and many another lover's 
 name. She took them all, and gave them back again 
 without reserve, until, as they stood there, someone 
 passing outward from the arched passage to the garden, 
 paused to listen at the half-heard sound of voices. For 
 Father Ninian — who had come down to his own rooms 
 for a pair of foils wherewith to give Lance Carlyon a 
 lesson in the " Addio del Marito,'' until Captain Bering 
 should choose to come out of the recesses of the garden 
 and allow of their going back to the Fort together — 
 knew of none likely to use, or even to be aware of, the 
 balcony. So he turned thither curiously, then stood 
 arrested, so that the clash of the foils on the stone, as 
 
 ii 
 
 m 
 
138 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 \ .* 
 
 '!f 
 
 he purposely lowered their points, came as a warning to 
 those two that they were observed. Laila, with a cat- 
 like noiselessness, withdrew in a second. She, a yard 
 or two away, in deepest shadow, stood leaning in a care- 
 less, easy attitude over the balustrade. Her only possi- 
 bility oi escape lay, she felt instinctively, in showing no 
 desire to do so. Vincent, for his part, turned to face 
 the old priest, prepared to brazen it out ; for his blood 
 was running like wild-fire in his veins. Yet scarcely so 
 fast as the heart's blood had once leapt, and was even 
 now leaping, in the old man who came forward, facing 
 him also. Came forward slowly, shortsightedly, a foil in 
 each hand. If he had held out one, bade him take the 
 button off and fight for his life, Vincent Bering would 
 scarcely have been surprised, would almost have been 
 pleased. It would have raised him in his own self- 
 esteem. For he knew perfectly well he had no right to 
 be there ; that, as yet, he was not sure of his own 
 footing. 
 
 But Pidar Nardyan did not. He paused, as he gener- 
 ally did, a few paces away, a slender, straight shadow in 
 black, girt about with that pale sash, on which, and on 
 his pale face, such light as there was fell softly. For 
 there was no anger in the latter ; only an almost pas- 
 sionate regret and pity. Even so, his word: startled 
 the young man, who stood prepared for defiance. 
 
 "Oh! Captain Bering!" he said courteously, "it is 
 you, is it } You have found a pleasant place, indeed ! 
 But scarcely a very safe one for your companion " — he 
 turned to that faint gleam of white and silver in the 
 arched shadow. — "The air grows chill, madam, so close 
 to the river," he continued, his voice taking a tone 
 almost of command, "and you are lighcly clad. Will 
 you not be wise, and leave us } " 
 
 Vincent's surprise had passed by this time into a rush 
 of vexation, almost indignation, for he had grasped the 
 old man's mistake. For an instant he felt bound to un- 
 deceive him, then the impossibility of doing so held him 
 silent, feeling a coward indeed; so, desperately, he could 
 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 139 
 
 only join his voice to Father Ninian's. It seemed the 
 only way out of the impasse. 
 
 " Perhaps you had better go — " 
 
 Laila did not need more. Already, under cover of 
 the shadow, she had dexterously slipped off her silver 
 jingles, lest they should betray what really seemed to 
 her her worst, nay ! her only offence ; — the taking and 
 wearing of Roshan Khan's present. And now, wrap- 
 ping her veil about her like a cloak, gathering her trail- 
 ing skirts to orthodox length with an appalling presence 
 of mind, she was off with just the little uneasy laugh 
 which might well befit the situation. 
 
 She left her companion bewildered, yet still facing the 
 old man recklessly. Since he could not explain, he did 
 not mean to be hectored. Yet, once again, the old 
 voice took him unawares. 
 
 " Memory plays strange tricks with us at times," it 
 5aid slowly, but with a suggestion of the fateful, hopeless 
 rhythm of a Greek chorus in it. "She has taken me back, 
 this evening, nearly sixty long years. The river before 
 us is the yellow flood of the Tiber, the woman who has 
 just left us is the woman I loved" — sixty long years ago 
 
 — I had kissed her, as you have kissed her. I had told 
 her I loved her, as you have just told her — and then, 
 like an echo from the river below where a boat was 
 moored, came to our ears, the same words, * I love you.' 
 
 — They were spoken, Captain Bering, by a boy, barely 
 in his teens, to a waiting-maid. The boy was her son. 
 She had been married, as they marry them in Italy, 
 almost before her girlhood, and I, the boy's tutor, was 
 nearer her age than his father — a better man, too, Cap- 
 tain Bering! But those words — 'I love you' — parted 
 us once, and for all. They mirrored the truth for us — 
 the truth of the love which hides in balconies — in 
 pleasure boats — " he took a step forward, and his whole 
 presence changed. He raised his hand, priest to its 
 finger tips. " Let it mirror the truth to you also, my 
 son — leave this poor lady to her duty, as I — " 
 
 Vincent Bering broke in on him haughtily, his pride 
 
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 140 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
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 W 
 
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 1. 
 
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 in arms, impatience at the falseness of his position 
 making him discourteous. 
 
 "You don't understand ; you are absolutely mistaken 
 — I refuse to explain, but I really must ask you not to 
 interfere." 
 
 The old man's whole bearing changed again. He drew 
 himself up, and, foils in hand, bowed, as fencers do at 
 the salute. 
 
 "Were I the lady's husband, sir, I would make you 
 answer. As a priest of God, I must warn you that I 
 will speak, if — " 
 
 Vincent Bering interrupted him again. " I can't pre- 
 vent that — but you will wrong us — her at any rate — 
 tiie best, the kindest woman — " 
 
 He paused, for Father Ninian had come close, laid a 
 hand on his, and the touch seemed to bimg silence. 
 
 "It is sixty long years. Captain Dering," he said, and 
 his eyes seemed to pierce through the darkness, " since 
 I have laid my hand on my fellow-men save in the hope 
 of healing. It was a fancy of mine after — after we 
 kissed, and parted. But I touch you as a second self, a 
 fellow-sinner ; for she too was the best — the kindest — " 
 His old voice failed. 
 
 Despite his anger at the whole miserable mistake, 
 Vincent was touched ; but despite his emotion, his 
 annoyance strengthened. 
 
 "Possibly," he broke in, "but I must really refuse to 
 discuss the matter further. Shall we end this, sir, — 
 unless — " he gave a reckless laugh and pointed to the 
 foils — "you would like to fight it out } " 
 
 Once more Father Ninian bowed, as fencers bow in 
 the salute, the priest, the wise counsellor, lost in an 
 older entity than these ; in the high-born Scotch student, 
 who, for a while, had forgotten his vocation to ruffle 
 with the best blood in Italy. " I have not the privilege 
 of being the lady's protector," he answered hotly. " If 
 I were," — He paused, then said courteously, " Shall we 
 come upstairs ? I came down for these foils in order to 
 teach Mr. Carlyon the thrust we spoke of once, 
 
THE CHURCH MILITANT 
 
 141 
 
 *VAddio del Mart to,' they called it in my youth — I 
 doubt if the name has changed now. He will be won- 
 dering what has become of me, and — and it ! " 
 
 As Vincent followed him, he felt a thrill at the 
 savageness of the old man's tone, ai.d told himself that 
 here was the Church Militant indeed. 
 
 He might have said so with still more reason ten 
 minutes after, when Father Ninian was left alone. For 
 the hour proved too late for lessons, and Lance Carlyon 
 — who had been out of sorts ever since his walk at dawn 
 with Erda Shepherd — was obliged to give in to dinner, 
 grumbling the while, that Vincent was the worst chum 
 he ever came across. Never to be found when he was 
 wanted, then turning up when dear old Pidar Nardyan 
 looked as if he could have licked creation. 
 
 Possibly Lance might have repeated this assertion, 
 also, with greater fervour, could he have been witness to 
 Father Ninian's actions, when, his last guest gone, he 
 went to put the foils back in the armoury next the 
 chapel. 
 
 For he would have seen him, with head bowed over 
 the crossed foils he held, repeating a '^ mea culpa'' as he 
 passed the altar ; but ere the second foil matched its 
 fellow on the armoury wall, he would have seen as 
 pretty a bit of sword-play as could well be seen. 
 Many a dexterous turn of wrist, many a quick imaginary 
 parry, many a sharp riposte, following each other ac- 
 curately, as if memory held each attack, each defence of 
 an unseen foe ; until finally, swift as a flash, would come 
 a falter back, as if from a blow, then a thrust forward. 
 
 There was a little silver bell — such as men put to a 
 falcon's hood — no bigger than a sixpence, shaped like a 
 man's heart, upon the tassel of a resting lance beneath 
 the solitary foil. A. .a the tassel swayed gently in the 
 cool river breeze. 
 
 Yet at each thrust the heart-shaped bell chimed a 
 feeble protest under the button of the foil, making the 
 Church Militant smile cheerfully. 
 
142 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 atis 
 
 AT THE GATES 
 
 m 
 
 \k ■ 
 
 W ' : 
 
 The darkness which holds the dawn was, as a rule, si- 
 lent as the grave in the sand-stretches beyond the river, 
 where the wide cut of the canal, the huge mud-heap 
 of the gaol, with its scattered workshops and houses, 
 showed as mere spots and lines on the illimitable plain. 
 But on the night after the band had played " God save 
 the Queen," while the first drops of sacred water trickled 
 over the chink of the sluice into the dry bed of the canal 
 below, its silence was broken by unfamiliar sounds. 
 
 First of all, by the now ceaseless splash of the thin, 
 glassy curve of water on its way to find out this new 
 road to the sea. It had a sort of dreamy whisper in 
 it, as if it were telling its first impressions, its hopes, 
 its fears, to the river it was leaving behind. 
 
 And on this background of ceaseless sound came two 
 others intermittently. 
 
 The first — a muffled hammering from the darkness 
 which hid the Viceroy's camp — told of departure, let- 
 ting the night know that another white-winged tent was 
 flitting, and that the dawn must be prepared to find its 
 place empty, the dream-city in ruins, the Hosts of the 
 Lord-sa/iid gone. 
 
 The second told of arrival. It was a strange cry, 
 soft, almost musical: — 
 
 " Hdrd — Hdrt^Hdrd — Hdri ! " 
 
 Then every now and again in a sort of chant : ** Rdm 
 — Rdm — S it a — Rdm .' " 
 
 It was the pilgrims' cry, their call on the Creator, 
 the Destroyer, their appeal to the godhead in man and 
 woman; for the forerunners of the great host to come 
 were already nearing Eshwara on their road to the 
 "Cradle of the Gods." 
 
 But there was a fourth sound, inaudible — by reason 
 of that ceaseless noise of water through the chink of 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 143 
 
 ]* 
 
 the sluice — except to those close by it, like George 
 Dillon, as he stood on the hand-bridge above the 
 closed gates looking down idly into the darkness which 
 prevented him from seeing the cause of the sound. He 
 had been up all night. On his return, — later than he 
 had intended, owing to his determination not to be de- 
 fied by any woman, — he had found that in his absence 
 cholera had been hard at its work. So he had buckled 
 to his, expecting one of those awful nights which live, 
 even in a doctor's memory, as a horror, as a warning to 
 those best fitted to stem the stream of death, that they 
 are but straws on its surface. 
 
 But he had been mistaken. True, for an hour or so, 
 cases had come in quicker than they could be attended 
 to ; then, suddenly, they ceased to come in at all. That 
 had been eight hours ago. Too short a respite for 
 certainty, but Dr. Dillon, being no novice in such work, 
 had his hopes; the more so because the disease, from 
 the very outset, had become steadily less and less viru- 
 lent. Even so, seven dead bodies lay awaiting the first 
 glint of dawn ; therefore, as ill-luck would have it, there 
 would be seven columns of smoke on the river's edge 
 for all to see ! 
 
 It was inevitable, however, nor could he do more to 
 prevent others coming. So he had been on his way 
 back to his own house for a few hours' rest when the 
 dreamy splash of the water made him pause to lean 
 over the hand-rail and listen to it, as he finished his 
 cigar in the open. 
 
 Then it was that he heard a faint tap, tapping, as of 
 a ghostly hand on a door. What was it } It was quite 
 distinct, though almost as low as the ^' lip, lipping'' of 
 the water, made restless by that glassy curve against 
 the gates. 
 
 A curiosity to know seized on him. There was al- 
 ready a glimmer of dawn in the east ; he might as well 
 wait and see. 
 
 It was not long before a streak of something faintly 
 white made him call himself a fool. The cause was a 
 
m 
 
 li 
 
 11 h' 
 
 w 
 
 t ! 
 
 it 
 
 1' 1' ■ ■ 
 
 
 
 144 
 
 r//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 log of wood. He might have thought of that. Even 
 that faint setting of a stream towards a new way must 
 have drifted it here. The thought made him frown, for 
 this fulfilment of the river-people's prophecy was annoy- 
 ing ; the more so from its absolute unlikelihood. Years 
 might pass without such a chance coming again ; yet 
 it had come the very first day! It was too bad. The 
 stars in their courses were fighting against him. In a 
 pet he threw the remains of his cigar from him, and was 
 striding off, when a faint glimmer, as of a candle, made 
 him turn sharply and look down whence it came. 
 
 The lighted end of his cigar had fallen on something 
 dry, inflammable, which had blazed up. But it was only 
 for a second ; the next found darkness, save for that 
 still, faint, glimmer of white. But the brief gleam had 
 told him it was not a log which had drifted astray — 
 
 It was a corpse. 
 
 That iapy tapping he had heard had been from the 
 dead feet seeking vainly to pass through the chink of 
 thr sluice, swerving with the side current, coming back, 
 again and again. He stood, grasping the rail, staring 
 down at the dim outline almost incredulously, and feel- 
 ing, despite himself, a trifle shivery. 
 
 Then the remembrance that this was a thing which 
 must be seen by none, which somehow, and as quickly 
 as possible, must be set on its right road again, made 
 him hurry back to where he knew some coils of rope, 
 which had been used for bunting at the ceremony, were 
 lying. Seizing one — still gaily decorated — he tied a 
 brick to one end, and hurried back to the bridge. By 
 dropping this weighted rope over the dim white streak 
 he was able to edge it gradually to one side, until it lay 
 moored against the wall of the basin. Kneeling down 
 for a closer look, he could see, in the fast-growing light, 
 that it was the corpse of a woman. He could even 
 guess the death she died, and if proof was needed, it 
 could be found in the hands folded at full stretch down 
 the body ; the thumbs, pointing upward, linked by an 
 iron ring. To this iron ring had been looped a little 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 t4$ 
 
 an 
 
 Ittle 
 
 tuft of the tri-coloured hank of cotton which plays so 
 large a part in marriage ceremonial. Dr. Dillon stood 
 up and swore under his breath. 
 
 The fates were, indeed, inexorable in their spite. Of 
 all things unlucky for the changing stream to claim, a 
 corpse seeking union with Mother Ganges was the 
 worst ; and of all corpses, this — the cursed one, which 
 had held two lives and could send one back to haunt 
 men — was the worst. 
 
 He must get rid of it somehow, if he could. 
 
 Fastening the rope, so strangely out of keeping, all 
 hung as it was with gay colours, to the iron ring which 
 showed about the ankles, he proceeded .to tow the body 
 back along the basin, past the first gates, and so to the 
 river itself. Thus far was simple. But how was he to 
 get it afloat on a current strong enough to sweep it 
 beyond danger of its returning to tap at the gates once 
 more } 
 
 The dawn was hastening with great leaps of light 
 that shot in broad bars from the darkest spot in all the 
 dark horizon ; the spot which would soon be the bright- 
 est, ablaze with the sun himself. Already the broad 
 shield of the river was changing its heraldry — the 
 sable was turning to steel, sign that the world would 
 side with the light. 
 
 What was to be done } 
 
 He looked over the wide waste of sand and water, 
 with a perplexity which vanished suddenly in a smile, 
 as he caught sight of a round shadow like a man's head 
 dipping and dancing on the surface. He walked on to 
 the last dry spot of land and shouted — 
 
 " Ai ! fisherman ! Ai ! Gu-gu ! Am-ma ! anybody ! 
 Come and earn a gold mohurf' 
 
 It was Am-ma. Luckily, perhaps, since the idea of 
 even towing a dead body such as this might have been 
 too much for semi-civilized Gu-gu. Am-ma, however, 
 had not ever borrowed his neighbours' superstitions. In 
 fact, ever since he, the Wiss-sahiba, and the Dee-puk- 
 rdg had bested the devil between them, he had felt him- 
 
 , i 
 
 
l: 
 
 " 
 
 If ;'■. 
 
 i Ar 
 
 I' ■ f ' • 
 
 !!!;: 
 
 ^11 ; 
 
 1^ 
 
 .•,!i 
 
 146 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 self to be invulnerable. So, he assured Dr. Dillon 
 affably, were the Hnzoors ; therefore he obeyed them. 
 Consequently, less than five minutes after the call, with 
 a vague wonder as to what sixteen rupees would feel 
 like, all at once, in a man's palm, he was heading hard 
 to the nearest stream capable of carrying the thing he 
 had in tow back to the path of purification. This hap- 
 pened to be towards Eshwara, and beyond a sandy point 
 set with tamarisks which jutted out above the canal 
 head. There was, of course, a certain stream against 
 him, and to Lave himself exertion and fii;ish the job — 
 as he had agreed to do — before dawn, he swam for the 
 most part under water, only coming up, after his habit, 
 for air. 
 
 Now it so happened, also, that Gu-gu had thought fit 
 to set nets for wild-fowl, and was even now dozing, 
 while he waited for the result, in the same tamarisk 
 jungle. But the sound of something swishing through 
 the water against: the stream roused him in a second, 
 and even without the glimpse, which the coming dawn 
 gave him, of a long streak parting the river with a 
 curved ripple like the prow of a boat, his experience 
 told him what it was sure to be. Briefly, someone of 
 the river people, — An->-ma for choice, since who but 
 Am-ma had the luck of such things — had happened on 
 the chance of stealing a log from the piles about the 
 canal workshops. He was now, after time-honoured 
 precedent, towing it to the stream where, having set it 
 adrift, he would recapture it, and, of course, claim his 
 reward for so doing ! 
 
 But two could play that game. When secrecy made 
 it necessary for a thief to swim for the most part under 
 water, it was easy to swim under water too, across the 
 track of the robber, cut his prize adrift, and put your 
 weight on the rope instead. 
 
 Then you could either choose revenge, and let an 
 enemy tow you home — which was a side-splitting trick, 
 — or you might wait till your adversary came up breath- 
 less, and dash after the prize yourself. Even if you 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 U7 
 
 fit 
 
 on 
 
 the 
 
 ired 
 
 kt it 
 
 his 
 
 lade 
 
 ider 
 
 the 
 
 ^our 
 
 an 
 jick, 
 jath- 
 lyou 
 
 could not secure the whole, half profits were generally 
 possible. 
 
 Therefore, slipping noiselessly into the stream like an 
 alligator, he was off across the track in a second ; swim- 
 ming, of course, under water. He came up once for 
 air, and smiled to see how far he had come ; so, fearing 
 lest the holder of the unseen tow-rope might chance to 
 come up at the same time, his black head went under 
 once more. 
 
 When it came up again, it was within a few yards of 
 the long white streak. He gave one look at it, let loose 
 a yell of abject terror, and almost turning a somersault 
 in his haste to escape, his head went down again, his 
 feet went skywards, and though his lungs neti ly burst 
 in the effort, he came up no more till he felt certain he 
 must have put a screen of tamarisk betv;een him and 
 the horror. He had ; but his teeth chattered, his eyes 
 were half out of his head when he scrambled, hands and 
 knees, on to the bank, and lying face down on the dry 
 sand, moaned and shuddered. What else could a man 
 do who had seen a cursed corpse breasting the stream 
 on its way back to Eshwara } To whose house } That, 
 however, was quite a secondary consideration to a man 
 who was already as good as dead ; since what man had 
 ever survived the sight of a churail? 
 
 The certainty of his own fate, after a while, made him 
 absolutely, recklessly, calm. He gathered up his nets, 
 wrung the necks of the few birds he had caught piti- 
 lessly, and went with them, as usual to the bazaars. 
 Not only for profit, however. Other men should taste 
 of his fear. Other men should know that they too 
 might have to die ! 
 
 Am-ma, meanwhile, having seen nothing when he 
 came up wondering what the sound was which had fil- 
 tered to his ears through the water, had gone on his 
 way unwitting, found the stream, cut the corpse adrift 
 himself, and gone back to his fishing. 
 
 It was not until he also went into the bazaar with his 
 basket, that he found it ringing with the direful portent ; 
 
If:; 
 
 ft '..' 
 
 lit: 
 
 i 
 
 ■ Hi' 
 
 \l J. 
 
 ii 
 
 l: 
 
 148 
 
 r//£ UOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 yet for all that going its way buying and selling, squab- 
 bling over the uttermost part of a farthing ; since por- 
 tents are ever with an Indian bazaar. At first, when 
 called upon to verify Gu-gu's story, Am-ma, remember- 
 ing his promise of secrecy, gave it stout denial ; but 
 when the real truth- of what had occurred dawned on his 
 slow brain, the opportunity for piling agony on to his 
 rival was too strong for him, and he burst into details, 
 all of which made Gu-gu's chance of escape still more 
 remote. The corpse had shot after him with a speed 
 only equal to the fire-boats in which the Huzoors came 
 across the black water ; it had sat up, and beckoned, 
 and called " Gugu! Gii-gu ! " 
 
 ** But if thou hast seen all this, thou, too, must die ! " 
 remarked the syrup-seller round whose shop the talk was 
 loudest. 
 
 Am-ma laughed vaingloriously. " Not I ! The devils 
 J. re afraid of me. See you, I have taken the Huzoors 
 for my God ; I am on the strong side." 
 
 " Hark to him ! " jeered another of his own tribe who 
 was also selling fish. " He cannot balance his basket on 
 his head, he holds it so high since the -woo^-sahib up 
 the river hath bidden him guide their big laft, — as if he 
 was a whit better than the rest of us ! " 
 
 Am-ma smiled peacefully. " That is true, brother. I 
 go for the raft this very day. But I leave a son in my 
 house, if the luck goes against me. That is the Hu- 
 zoors' doing. They have the Dee-puk-rdg. They are the 
 Light-bringers, the Birt h-bringers ! " 
 
 A tall man, in curiously crumpled clothing, who had 
 just joined the group, gave a hollow laugh. " Birth- 
 bringers !" he echoed. "Ay! and Death-bringers, too. 
 They took seven in the gaol last night. I have it from a 
 sure hand." That might well be, seeing that he was 
 none other than the gosain Gopi, who, scarcely an hour 
 agone, had been given his ticket-of-leave and the clothes 
 in which he had been convicted two years before. They 
 had since then been rolled up, and ticketed with his 
 name and number ; hence the creases. 
 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 149 
 
 »" 
 
 "The doctor cuts a hole in their heads," he went on 
 calmly, "takes out their brains, and puts the bit back. 
 Then 'tis cholera. That is why they burn them in their 
 clothing and their caps, so that none may see. But they 
 say, 'tis for the safety of the living ; as if that did not 
 lie with the Gods ! " 
 
 " Hark to him ! " said approving voices. " Yea ! hark 
 to him, the pious one ! " 
 
 The long bazaar lay flooded with sunshine and life. 
 The quails were calling from their hooded cages, the 
 sacred monkeys were chattering about the sweetmeat- 
 sellers' shops, men and women were going about eager 
 on their own affairs, and a group c{ schoolboys on their 
 way to a mission school came along, their books under 
 their arms, — a quaint collection, for the most part. A 
 copy of the Gospels, Sa'adi's Gulistan, and the Hito- 
 padesa, certainly ; a treatise, in English, on t^^e latest 
 theories of mind and matter, equally so ; selections from 
 general literature, probably ; with Burke's speeches and 
 Addison's Spectator, possibly. 
 
 One or two of these boys paused in their school talk 
 to listen, as a voice said fearfully : — 
 
 "'Twill be for ^momaV they want them. Folks say 
 they are running short of power." 
 
 Gopi shook his head. "That may be; but these are 
 to grease the slots of the canal sluice ; without it, water 
 will not run. One brain — his, that they killed with 
 the light — opened it but one inch; as all can see if 
 they choose. And these seven will not go far. What 
 matter.^ There be plenty more where they came 
 from." 
 
 The gossipers looked at each other. " Yea ! that is 
 so. It opens but an inch, and there are many pris- 
 oners," they said, with that curious faculty for giving 
 heart-whole assent to the truthful foundations of a lie 
 which makes the latter go so far in India. 
 
 The boys went on. There was nothing about the 
 dynamic and hydraulic power of a man's brain in their 
 treatises ; but, after all, the statement was scarcely so 
 
 .!i 
 
 
150 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 stranpje to ignorance as many another held in the books 
 under their arms. 
 
 "The times are bad," remarked someone, chiefly to 
 give a fresh fillip to the flagging horrors. "They say 
 the ' Pool of Immortality,' will be dry to-morrow." 
 
 A trail of saffron-robed pilgrims who were passing, 
 under the charge of a priest, looked at their guide doubt- 
 fully. If this was to be so, what was the use of having 
 given him a rupee each to be admitted thereto at the 
 most auspicious moment } 
 
 " Lo ! 'tis easy to father that falsehood ! " cried the 
 priest in charge, venomously eyeing a similar figure to 
 his own, which was also followed patiently, trustfully, 
 by a band of men and women and children, all in their 
 saffron robes. " When folks have had their own miracle 
 stopped, they would fain stop other folks' also. Have no 
 fear, my children ! The sacred water will rise as ever, and 
 send your souls blameless to the 'Cradle of the Gods.*" 
 
 It would have been easy enough for his rival to throw 
 doubts on the genuineness of the pool miracle, had it 
 been sound policy to do so ; but before those patient, 
 trustful faces, desirous only to save their souls alive at 
 any cost, it was unwise to sap at the foundations of 
 faith. So the reply contented itself with assertions that 
 there was no fear either, for them. Tampion or no tam- 
 pion, /(^^/Gorakh-nath had promised to be inside the gun 
 as ever. And that would be a newer, a better, miracle, 
 than any other in Eshwara ! 
 
 Here a fresh voice put in its word ; for the syrup- 
 seller's shop, being at one corner of the central square 
 or chowk of four bazaars, no one who had any errand of 
 any sort in Eshwara could fail to pass it sooner or later. 
 Therefore, Dya Ram and some other pleaders, on their 
 way thus early in the morning to the tahsil court, were 
 bound to overhear the priest's boast. 
 
 " But most undesirable, nevertheless," expostulated 
 Dya Ram, quickly. " We have duly appealed against 
 the order to the higher court, and our legal course is to 
 await the result." 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 151 
 
 * M 
 
 The priest looked at him, sullenly scornful ; for such 
 as he are no favourites with the hereditary Levites of 
 India. 
 
 "Thcy^^/ hath appealed to the Gods," he retorted, 
 "and they will give judgment without the help of such 
 as thou, pleaderyVr / " 
 
 " 1 lark to the pious one ! " murmured the crowd again, 
 admiringly responsive, as ever, to a hint of religious 
 sentiment. 
 
 "But it will confuse issues — it is irregular — and I 
 who drew up the petition object in totOy' began Dya 
 Ram in angry protest, when a friend interrupted him 
 consolingly in English. 
 
 " True. As it has been said, it is impossible to serve 
 God and Mammon ; yet seeing that miracles are, as Her- 
 bert Spencer proves, ipsi facto — " 
 
 The ludicrous inadequacy of logic to the mental cali- 
 ber of those around him, struck one of the little party 
 of progress keenly, and he broke in, as he passed on, 
 "What is the use of combatting such ignorance.-' It is 
 for us — who represent the intellect of India — to pio- 
 neer the way — " 
 
 The rest was lost as the little party wenl on discus- 
 sing their own position. 
 
 " Mayhap 'twas to Ramanund's house the churail was 
 coming ; there was such a corpse went from it a week 
 or two since ; and they return from far," said an old man, 
 looking after the last speaker. 
 
 Gopi, the gosaifiy laughed. "This one, I'll wager, was 
 sent back because of the canal. Mark my words, Mai 
 Gunga will return them all now. 'Tis the Huzoors' 
 doing." 
 
 A curious shiver ran through the crowd of men. To 
 have your women against you, to feel in your heart that 
 they cannot help being revengeful, that their blood is 
 on your head, is ever the greatest of dreads. And so 
 many lives held the possibility of this revenge. 
 
 Am-ma, philosophically seated on the outskirts of the 
 group, trying to sell his fish, laughed vaingloriously again. 
 
152 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ■ i ■ ! ' i. 
 
 *' Only for fools ! The miss-sahiba and the lights, and 
 I, can defy devils.'* 
 
 Here he stood up, and, with frightful grimaces of joy 
 and uncouth salaams, greeted the appearance of Erda 
 Shepherd, who, in the mission-lady's uniform of blouse 
 and skirt, white pith hat, green veil, and bag of books, 
 came out of a neighbouring alley. 
 
 It was not a becoming dress. Lance Carlyon told him- 
 self, as, on his way back from escort duty to some lin- 
 gering bigwig of the camp, he, at the same moment, 
 came cantering up the bazaar towards the Fort. 
 
 She could not say the same of his. It was the first 
 time she had seen him in uniform, and the sight of the 
 scarlet and gold, the buttons, the fal-lals generally, took 
 her breath away. There are, in fact, few women whom 
 they do not impress. 
 
 Yet, curiously enough, her impulse was to pass on 
 without speaking ; his, to do what he did, namely, pull 
 up, dismount, and shake hands. And still more curi- 
 ously, the reason for both these impulses was the same ; 
 the presence beside Erda of a tall, rather weedy-looking 
 man, with a long, black coat and a long, red beard. 
 
 " Let me introduce my cousin, the Reverend David 
 Campbell," said Erda, with great dignity, somewhat 
 marred by a fine blush. 
 
 " I thought it must be," rejoined Lance, coolly. He 
 might have said he was certain of it ; that a fellow could 
 scarcely feel a desire to murder another fellow at an 
 instant's notice, unless that fellow was your rival. 
 
 Yet, still more curiously again, this notion of rivalry 
 had come to Lance in an instant also. Before he caught 
 sight of Erda ?nd her Jiancif he would have sworn that 
 though he had been a bit cut up at hearing the nicest 
 girl he had ever m^t was already engaged, he had never 
 had the remotest idea of fighting against the fact. But 
 the first glance at the two walking together had changed 
 all this. Here by God's grace was the one maid for 
 him. And another man had — 
 
 Not a bad looking chap, certainly. Better dressed, 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 153 
 
 too, than most missionaries. That was because he was 
 fresh out from England. Any fool, though, could be 
 that with an English tailor. Yes, not a bad sort ; but 
 not the sort for her. 
 
 "You've been out on your rounds, I suppose," he 
 said, pointing to Erda's books. 
 
 " Yes," answered the Reverend David, with eager 
 assent, and the benevolent smile which includes the 
 smiler's own virtue in smiling; "and I have been privi- 
 leged for the first time to see somewhat of the noble 
 work Englishwomen are doing for their Indian sisters. 
 It is no easy task, Mr. Carlyon, for delicate — " 
 
 " I like it," put in Erda, with a faint frov/n at the 
 missionary-report style of her cousin's enthusiasm. " So 
 there is no use wasting your pity on me, David." 
 
 " Pity ! " he echoed, m appropriating approval. " I 
 did not even pity you when they called you evil names." 
 Being of the new school of Free church ministers, he 
 put all possible ill into ev-il like any ritualistic curate. 
 
 "Do they call you names.?" asked Lance, sharply. 
 
 Erda gave a vexed look at her cousin. For the first 
 time in her life the militant joy at persecution of the 
 true proselytizer failed her. 
 
 "Sometimes, not often," she said, quite apologeti- 
 cally. "They happened to do so to-day, and David 
 heard it ; there are so many strangers about, you see, 
 who don't know me." 
 
 " And what did you do } " Lance's eyes were on the 
 Reverend David this time. 
 
 " Do.?" repeated the latter, in faint surprise. "Nothing, 
 of course. We missionaries hear such things joyfully — 
 for — for the Work's sake." There was dignity in his 
 tone and manner. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Lance, softly, under his breath, " if 
 I'd been there, there would have been a row. Besides," 
 he added, quite argumentatively, " if I believed in my 
 work as you do I'd be hanged if I let anybody ^krab'^ 
 
 \\ 
 
 ^ Abuse it. 
 
 It, 
 
 I « 
 
ili 
 
 
 154 
 
 TNE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 it — or me — for it's the same thing. Not at least, with- 
 out trying to make 'em answer for it all I know." 
 
 The Reverend David Campbell shook his head. " That 
 is not our view. Erda, the meeting is at nine, and it is 
 already the half-hour. To-morrow, you see, Mr. Carlyon, 
 is our field-day, and we have to arrange our forces." 
 
 Once more the flavour of the missionary report made 
 Erda shrink, but Lance nodded. 
 
 " A field-day for most of us. I expect to be in the 
 saddle all day. Good-by, Miss Shepherd." 
 
 But something in the girl rose up in revolt at parting 
 with him thus. When he had been out of sight, she 
 had faced the probability of never seeing him any more 
 with equanimity. Now she felt that she must tell him 
 she was leaving Eshwara the very next day, or the day 
 after ; that she must make this a real good-by. 
 
 " I have to see another old woman in an alley close 
 by first, David," she said. " You had better go on and 
 let me follow." 
 
 Yet when he had gone, after another joyously mili- 
 tant paean over the work, she stood silent. It seemed 
 somehow too sunshiny for words. Then she looked up 
 at Lance, and her heart sank. For something in his 
 face told her, in an instant, that she had been too long 
 in letting him know of her engagement to her cousin. 
 The fact, by rousing her indignation, — since it was im- 
 possible to go about proclaiming that you were not 
 available for idle people to fall in love with, — helped 
 her to be hard. 
 
 " You need not have been so fierce just now," she 
 said, with an unreal little laugh. ** People won't have 
 many more chances of calling me names in Eshwara. 
 didn't I, that I was going ; but it will be 
 I expected — to-morrow, or next day." 
 shan't see you again } " He grasped the 
 meaning to him in an instant, and the wondering pain 
 in his voice awoke an echo in her heart. 
 
 " I suppose so ; for Mr. Campbell's appointment will 
 be at the other end of India; unless, indeed — " she 
 
 I told you, 
 
 sooner than 
 
 "Then I 
 
 \^ 
 
AT THE GATES 
 
 155 
 
 ' She 
 
 have 
 
 wara, 
 
 11 be 
 
 t will 
 she 
 
 could not withstand his look — " my Aunt has asked a 
 few friends in to tea this afternoon to say good-by. If 
 you, or Captain Bering, cared — " 
 
 " Of course I'll come," he interrupted quietly. " Now 
 which way are you going, for I am going too ? " 
 
 She looked at him helplessly. " But you can't," she 
 began, 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can ! I'll finish the smoke you inter- 
 rupted, while you polish off the old lady. They're not 
 going to have a chance of — of abusing the w^r/t again." 
 
 He had a most ingenious way of appealing to her 
 sense of humour, and though it was partly at her cousin's 
 expense, she laughed as they set off together — a most 
 incongruous couple. He had little time for his smoke, 
 however, for he had barely left off watching the point 
 where she had disappeared, for any hint of felonious 
 calling of names, when she reappeared in company with 
 Father Ninian, the latter looking almost pope-like, 
 yet also curiously native, in the white washing soutane 
 and skull-cap which he invariably wore in his visitations. 
 His face was rather stern, and he had his spectacles 
 on. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Carlyon," he said, surprised in his turn, 
 " I am glad. Will you take Miss Shepherd home t I 
 want to go over to Dr. Dillon at once : and I have 
 advised her not to visit in this quarter to-day. There 
 are many lodging houses for the pilgrims, and — " 
 
 "Did they call names .^" asked Lance, belligerent a 
 once. 
 
 The old man looked at him sharply, almost angrily. 
 " No one ever called me names, sir ; still less a lady who 
 was with me. But excuse me — I am pressed for time." 
 
 ** Now, that's a man ! " said Lance, enthusiastically, as 
 he looked after the hurrying white figure. The com- 
 parison was too obvious. 
 
 " Father Ninian is not a missionary,' she said coldly. 
 "It is easy for him — " she paused, turned to her com- 
 panion, and held out her hand. " Good-by, and thanks ; 
 but I really can go home by myself, Mr. Carlyon." 
 
 K^ 
 

 156 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 t- 
 
 'if * 
 
 " Good-by," he echoed ; then, holding her hand still, 
 a sudden resolve seemed to come to him. "But — I 
 should like to tell you something first, please." — 
 
 She felt her heart beating everywhere but in its 
 proper place. 
 
 — " Not that it matters, bat I'd like you to know it. 
 I had some news by the mail this morning — bad news." 
 
 She felt her blood everywhere but in its normal course, 
 now, in sheer shame at her own imaginations. *' I'm 
 sorry," she murmured. 
 
 " So am I," he went on thoughtfully ; " though it isn't 
 bad in a way for me. Do you remember my telling you 
 about my cousin } a weedy chap, six-four. Well, they 
 sent him round the world for his health, and he died 
 two months ago, it seems, in Australia. And the shock 
 was too much for my uncle ; he was an old man, and 
 this was his only son. So — so I am Sir Lancelot now. 
 It doesn't make any odds, of course, but I thought I 
 should like you to know, first." 
 
 She looked up at him as he stood beside her, so tall, 
 so strong, so young, so kind ; and though she only said, 
 " Thanks, Sir Lancelot, it won't make any difference to 
 — to our friendship, I'm sure," she knew in her heart 
 of hearts that it did. Though how, she had not yet had 
 time to discover. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 MIRACLE MONGERS 
 
 RosHAN Khan flung his cigarette away, and walked 
 up and down his quarters in the Fort like an English- 
 man ; he felt rather like one, also, in his vague distaste 
 for something which refused to fit in with his previous 
 experiences. 
 
 " So she will see my grandmother," he said, at last. 
 "That is a step, certainly, but — " he turned quickly to 
 Akbar Khdn, "it seems impossible ! " 
 
MIRACLE MONGERS 
 
 157 
 
 The quondam chief-eunuch giggled like a girl. " Noth- 
 ing is impossible with women, oh, Protector of the 
 Poor ! " he said ; then, with a jaunty air of self-satisfac- 
 tion, went on, "and this dust-like one has experience. 
 She will see the female relation to-night after approved 
 custom, and, since this is after the habits of the sahib- 
 logue, she would perhaps see the — the Nawab-j*^?/^/^ to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Roshan wheeled again in his walk at both the title 
 and the suggestion, half indignantly, yet with a reluctant 
 eagerness. " See — see me ! Did she say aught of it } " 
 
 " A woman's wishes for a lover go not near her 
 tongue, Hiizoor ; they keep to her heart," replied 
 Akbar, still with his jaunty craft ; " but if this visit of 
 the female relation be auspicious, as God send it, then 
 there would be no hindrance to the asking ; and even if 
 she said nay — " 
 
 Something in his hearer's face warned the old sinner 
 he had to do with some novel code of conduct, and he 
 paused, while Roshan continued his pacing. 
 
 He was disturbed beyond bounds. The foolish dream 
 of a foolish old woman had come to be so far a reality, 
 that the jealousy which had blazed up instinctively at 
 the sight of Laila in *:hat dress — so like a woman of his 
 race — alone with a strange man, had come to be deliber- 
 ate. More than once he had felt inclined to tell Pidar 
 Nardyan what he had seen, even to write an anonymous 
 letter of warning. He would have done so had he seen 
 any subsequent hint of intimacy between these two. 
 But he saw none ; on the contrary, they seemed to avoid 
 each other in public ; and though this might be a blind, 
 on thp other hand Roshan had seen too much of some 
 English women's ways not to know how trivial an 
 offence against the proprieties it was to sit out dances 
 in a balcony ! Undoubtedly, however, this girl, who had 
 taken his presents on t*^e sly, who would receive his 
 ambassadress on the sly, was not one whom it was 
 necessary to treat with great ceremony. She was what 
 the English language called a flirt ; his own a stronger 
 
158 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 term. Not that it mattered, since no wife of his would 
 have a chance of amusing herself. 
 
 So, after a while, he paused to say — with a scowl for 
 the toothless grinning survival of a past society — "I 
 would I knew if it were wise to trust thee } Why 
 shouldst thou take the trouble thou dost } What is the 
 affair to thee .? " 
 
 Akbar's face was a study in sheer dignity. " 'Tis 
 but my duty, Cherisher of the Poor ! " he said, almost 
 pathetically. ** For what other service were such as I 
 am created .-* " 
 
 The hateful tragedy of this confession of degradation 
 passed Roshan by ; he saw nothing in it but an appeal 
 to facts which gave him confidence. 
 
 "Yea!" he said, "I was forgetting. Such arrang- 
 ings are meat and drink to thy sort. So take thy price. 
 It shall be trebled if she bids me see her to-morrow, 
 but — " here he laughed, half at himself, — " thou must 
 n'^eds work miracles for such favour to come so soon ! " 
 
 Akbar, as he capered off, the rupees jingiing in his 
 pocket, to more legitimate and less lucrative pursuits, 
 winked and leered to himself over his own surpassing 
 wickedness and wisdom. Miracles ! Ay ; but it was 
 nature worked them, not he. Given youth, proximity, 
 a touch of surprise, a flavour of the forbidden, and the 
 result, in his evil experience, was sure. In the mean- 
 time his part was to keep the bail from falling until the 
 players took to playing the game for themselves ; then 
 the fun was over for the true go-between. He had to 
 take a back seat and watch — he! he! he! — the mira- 
 cle ! A pretty miracle, indeed ! The idea tickled him 
 so that he could not keep it to himself, and as he passed 
 through the bazaar, doing his daily marketing, he used 
 his new avocation of miracle-monger as a reason for 
 good bargains. The shop-keepers, however, shook their 
 heads. Miracles paid the priests, and might suit such 
 as he, but for their part they considered that there v/ere 
 too many miracles in Eshwara. What was the good of 
 the pilgrims coming at all if all their money went to the 
 
 
MIRACLE MONGERS 
 
 159 
 
 temples, and they had not a pice left for a relic, or even 
 a toy to take home to the toddlers whose feet were not 
 yet strong enough for pilgrimage ? Whereupon they 
 would look discontentedly round the baskets of Brum- 
 magen brass gods, the Belgian-made rosaries, the patent 
 Swedish self-lighting joss sticks, the machine-cut obla- 
 tion cups, with which almost every other shop sought 
 to attract custom. Baskets where a pious pilgrim could 
 purchase a whole pantheon, and secure a modicum of 
 divine favour — all duly trade-marked by Christians — 
 for a few farthings. 
 
 "'Tis not our fault, brother," suggested a decrepit old 
 Brahmin, with a wrinkled forehead all seamed with white 
 markings, who — squatted in the gutter — was extolling 
 the virtue of the sacred sdlig rdmas, made unblushingly 
 out of the ball stoppers of soda-water bottles, which lay 
 exposed for sale on a handkerchief in front of him ; a 
 Manchester-made handkerchief, printed in the best style 
 with the loves of Krishna. ** We get no more than in 
 the old days ; nay, less. For, see you, the third-class 
 ticket takes so much. And that is the Hiuoors' fee. 
 They send it all over the black water to make a moun- 
 tain of bilver in the streets of their big city, London. 
 Oh, pious ones ! Buy ! Buy a sacred sin-expeller ! " 
 
 The monotonous cry was caused by the appearance 
 of a priest-led band of pilgrims ; for, as yet, the great 
 throng was not, when the whole narrow street would be 
 a sea of heads, when even the saffron robes would be 
 lost to sight, and the only thing visible would be the 
 patient, anxious faces seeking redemption. That would 
 come on the morrow, — the great day. 
 
 Meanwhile, reverent eyes turned to the bottle-stop- 
 pers, and one or two hands wandered to the little hoard 
 set aside for regeneration, which was diminishing so 
 rapidly under the claims of chaplets, lights, caste-mark- 
 ings, sprinkling, and miracles. 
 
 "There be too many, I say," reiterated a radical seller 
 of drugs. " If the Sirkar puts a tax on my medicine 
 for the body, why not on thine for the soul } " 
 
i6o 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 " Nay, pinsari-jee ! " chuckled the privileged wit and 
 gossip of the bazaar, a cobbler who sat — by reason of 
 his low caste — at a decent distance even from the 
 crowd of customers which was awaiting a patch on 
 the coverings of feet already vorn and weary with their 
 search after righteousness; * 'tis a miracle when folk 
 buy of you ; and that comes not too often." 
 
 Even the pilgrims laughed ; for laughter at a ready 
 gibe omc ^asily in India. Yet they, too, felt inclined 
 to ag : ^ • th the drug-seller. One can get blas^ even 
 in min 
 
 Thercjre, ^ nrally enough, when there was a choice, 
 they chose the newest ones. And the newest of all was 
 jogi Gorakh-nath's promise of defying tampions, and 
 locks, and chains, and, as in other years, blessing the 
 crowd of worshippers from his self-inflicted penitentiary, 
 inside the " Teacher of Religion^ 
 
 And what was more, he had kept his promise. That 
 very dawn, as a kind of walk over the course, he had per- 
 formed the miracle before a select band of pilgrims, 
 n\Q^\\y jogics of his own sect who were now engaged in 
 telling the tale to all and sundry in the city. What 
 had occurred was briefly this. He had received his 
 followers squatted on the stone steps in front of the gun, 
 and had treated them to a dissertation on the mysteries 
 of Yoga. Other less eminent practitioners in the art of 
 miracles, he said, might have found it necessary to with- 
 hold the sight of the sacred person from devoted eyes. 
 He, however, meant to show them his absolute indepen- 
 dence of the body. He would leave it lying there, dead, 
 while his soul went inside the gun, and blessed the pious 
 ones. Accordingly his jaw had dropped ; he had be- 
 come rigid, callous apparently to the prickings of pins 
 with which his assistants strove to make him wince, 
 and, just as one of them withdrew a dagger, covered, of 
 course, with gore from his very heart, a muffled voice 
 of blessing had come from the very bowels of the gun. 
 
 If that was not a miracle, what was } 
 
 Anyhow, it caught on, so that as the day grew, the 
 
 : 
 t 
 
 a 
 I 
 
 t 
 r 
 
 2 
 
 r 
 I 
 c 
 
MIRACLE MONGERS 
 
 l6l 
 
 ce, 
 
 of 
 
 ice 
 
 he 
 
 growing tide of pilgrims passed by the side-shows run 
 in connection with the Pool of Immortality by its priests, 
 and drifted off to the opposition show, lea ' ig the 
 impresarios behind them in a state of rage and lespair. 
 Rage, for if this sort of thing continued on the morrow 
 they would lose their year's harvest, since the Host of 
 God-seekers were ever the natural prey of priests ; 
 despair, because exposure of what experience told them 
 must be a fraud, would only result in counter exposure. 
 There must be honour among thieves to make the pro- 
 fession a lucrative one. 
 
 So they met in conclave each with his miserable 
 earnings in his hand, to poin* tb dire urgency of action, 
 and agreed on the wisdom ^f fii'oing a cat's-paw to filch 
 their chestnuts from the fire. 
 
 Thus it happened that Vircent Dering came over to 
 Lance Carlyon's quarter*^ half an hour before the time 
 they had settled to stai for the mission house, and 
 asked him to look sharp, and send round to Roshan 
 Khan to come along also, as he had private information 
 
 — here, with a laugh, he threw a letter on the table — 
 that miracles were being illegally performed in canton- 
 ments, and he expected some fun. Lance laughed also 
 as he read the following : — 
 
 "To the Major General commanding. This is to give 
 notice to all concerned that illegible miracles is now 
 being performed by bare men in belly of great gun, 
 contrary to astringent orders issued by my lord god. 
 Therefore your petitioners pray foi correct diagnosis of 
 same, and removal from Cantonment boundaries with 
 exhibitions not to miracle any more." 
 
 " By Jove ! " he said, "our petitioner is a medical man 
 
 — hospital dresser, I expect. Not to miracle any more ! 
 
 — h'm." His tone changed, his honest blue eyes 
 clouded, for, ever since Erda Shepherd had told him 
 what her future life was to be, the young fellow 
 had been painfully aware that Eshwara had wrought a 
 miracle on him ; that he was no longer content to take 
 life as he found it ; that already he had begun to look 
 
 M 
 
 k 
 
I 
 
 162 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I. ; i 
 
 lit 
 
 m 
 
 ■ ;■'! 
 
 \iH\ 
 
 Hi 
 
 forward and think of what life would be by and by. " I 
 expect that would be a difficulty in Eshwara," he went 
 on ; " it's an awful place for upsetting the proper odds. 
 Seems to me impossible to — to make a safe book on 
 anything." 
 
 Vincent Bering shrugged his shoulders. He had 
 been in the highest spirits for the last few days. " A 
 safe book ! The dullest thing in creation. That's why 
 I like Eshwara. As I remembcir telling you, one can't 
 count upon anything in the topsy-turvy place — not 
 even one's self. They talk of the mystery of the East ! 
 By George ! one is in grips with it here ; so come along, 
 Lance ! and remove miracles from Cantonment bounda- 
 ries at any rate ! " 
 
 They found the union-jack of paths obliterated by an 
 orderly crowd ; for every hour, almost every minute, 
 of the day had brought fresh units to that weary-footed, 
 eager-eyed host of pilgrims. Here and there amongst 
 them v/as to be seen the high-twined, badge-set turban 
 of a policeman, ready, truncheon in hand, to assert the 
 rights of law, but not many ; since the rush of bathers 
 had not yet come, and there was small danger to be 
 feared from anything save that keen desire to be 
 cleansed, which showed on almost every face. As the 
 two Englishmen entered, however, followed by Roshan 
 Khan, on whose features that fierce intolerance of his 
 race for idolaters was written clearly, a murmur of 
 tense anticipation ran through the packed courtyard. 
 The miracle turn was evidently on. 
 
 It was. Jogi Gorakh-nath lay as if dead on the raised 
 stone platform in front of the gun, and two assistants 
 were prodding him with pins. 
 
 "I've seen that in London," said Vincent, forcing his 
 way rapidly through the yielding crowd, " so I can 
 hardly object to it here ; but if there is hanky-panky 
 with my gun — " 
 
 At that instant, a bloody dagger, fresh apparently 
 from the jogis heart, was held up, and a curious hush 
 fell on the courtyard. It was broken by a muffled 
 
MIRACLE MONGERS 
 
 163 
 
 his 
 
 voice, unmistakably from within the gun, and that was 
 lost in a great roar of applause. 
 
 " A miracle ! a miracle of the gods ! " 
 
 Captain Dering, who with the others had now reached 
 the centre, waited for the roar to subside a little, and 
 then his voice rose and seemed to crush it. 
 
 '^ Risaldar-sahib ! You have the key of the padlock. 
 Take out the tampion, and see who is inside." 
 
 As he spoke, his eyes were on the assistants, and 
 something in their defiant assurance warned him that 
 he was on the wrong tack, and made him cover possible 
 discomfiture with the words, — " If there is no one, 
 then someone here has the art of throwing his voice 
 where he will." 
 
 As if in assent, the muffled blessing came, louder, 
 this time, from the now un-tampioned gun, so that 
 Roshan's face showed somewhat scared, as, with a 
 salute, he announced as the result of his inspection, 
 " There is no one, sir, I can see clear down the metal, 
 but — but the voice is there." 
 
 A sound of such fierce approval ran through the 
 crowd who were within hearing, that Captain Dering 
 saw instantly that it would not be wise to court another 
 failure. 
 
 " Close up the gun again," he said loudly. ** So long 
 as my orders are not disobeyed, and people keep their 
 bodies out of my gun, their voices are welcome to it ! 
 Come along, Carlyon," he added, in English, " it's ven- 
 triloquism, of course, and I'd dearly Hke to catch the 
 beast who does it, but we had better leave it alone for 
 the present." 
 
 Lance, who, in sudden remembrance of the sound he 
 had heard as he drifted past the bathing-steps in his 
 canoe on the night of the dance, had been vainly over- 
 hauling the padlock and chain for signs of their having 
 been tampered with, nodded his head, and let the chain 
 swing back on its staple. The sudden jerk threw a 
 new light on the matter. Fur the staple cam^ out, dis- 
 closing the fact that it had been neatly filed through at 
 
 
lift- 
 
 164 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 the shank, and then replaced by means of a drilled hole 
 and a pin. 
 
 The proof of tampering was clear, but nothing else. 
 
 " I have it," said Lance suddenly coming up with a 
 red but triumphant face from a prolonged inspection 
 down the huge muzzle, " they've shoved in a false end, 
 and there's someone behind. Roshan ! go back and 
 fetch me my long gaff, and Roshan ! — my cleaning rod." 
 
 " And tell the guard to come out at once," added Cap- 
 tain Bering, heedful of the rising note of movement 
 amongst the crowd, sign that it was growing restless. 
 
 " Stay ! I've got a ripping idea ! " cried Lance again, 
 his face all abeam with delight — delight so catching 
 that the crowd stilled as he turned to it. " Look here," 
 he said confidentially, in Hindustani, "there's a boy in 
 this gun. It must be a boy, and rather a small one, for 
 there isn't room for anything big. Now isn't there a 
 boy anywhere about the same size who'd like to come 
 and draw him } He will be heads this way, and you will 
 be able to get a good grip of his hair, and he will get a 
 grip of your's, and — and it will be — be jolly!" The 
 untranslatable word needed no translation. That some- 
 thing in the perfection of careless youth which touches 
 the hearts of all mankind, put Lance and his audience 
 in touch instantly. 
 
 A group of tall, grave-eyed Sikhs laughed uproariously, 
 and nudged a lad beside them. " Go on, brotherling," 
 they said, "thou art the best wrestler of the school. 
 Go ! show the Huzoor how thou canst hold thine own." 
 
 It needed no more. " Yea ! try thy luck, brotherling," 
 said a dozen voices, "and if thou canst not we will find 
 a champion ! " 
 
 That settled it. Five minutes afterwards Lance Carl- 
 yoM found himself arranging the conditions of the draw, 
 surrounded by half a dozen lads, each backed by eager 
 supporters. By this time Roshan had returned, and 
 with the aid of the gaff and one of the smallest of the 
 guard, Lance's guess had been proved to be true. A 
 neatly fitting disc of metal, cup-shaped to increase the 
 
MlRACrE AtO.VGERS 
 
 165 
 
 >l 
 
 resemblance to the end of the barrel had been withdrawn, 
 leaving a head visible. 
 
 " It is beautifully tousled, and you'll get a good grip," 
 said Lance, regretfully, as he helped the Sikh champion 
 into the gun, "but it is bigger than I thought for, and 
 you'll have your work cut out for you." 
 
 Then ensued the quaintest scene imaginable. The 
 whole crowd, but five minutes before ready, almost, to 
 fight for the truth of their miracle, were swaying breath- 
 less, excited, in sheer childish delight over the tussle to 
 expose it. 
 
 " Lo ! he comes — I see his toes — bravo, Gurdit ! 
 Nay, the other hath strength left ! Sho ! sonling, let not 
 go for thy life ! That is well done — Bravo ! Bravo ! " 
 
 So backwards and forwards, like a terrier and a badger, 
 the draw wavered, Lance, watch in hand, calling time. 
 
 " Half a minute more ! Go it, Gurdit ! " he shouted. 
 The encouragement had its effect. Gurdit's toes, his 
 ankles, his calves showed beyond the gun ; only his 
 knees remained, giving him grip still. 
 
 " Wait for his knees. Wait till he loses grip ! " 
 shouted Lance — " twenty seconds more — fifteen, ten — 
 f — there you are ! that's it, fair ! ! " 
 
 Fair it was ; the knees, pressing outwards steadily, 
 every bronze muscle of them showing the strength of 
 the drag, lost grip, and with a great yell of delight, half- 
 a-dozen bearded Sikhs had hold of Gurdit's feet with 
 such a vigorous pull, that Lance had to shove his knee 
 forward, in a hurry, to prevent the boy from falling on 
 his face ; since both his hands were locked desperately 
 in the tangled hair of a disciple so big that he came out 
 of the gun with a cloop like a cork ! 
 
 " It was the most sporting draw I've seen for years," 
 said Lance enthusiastically, when, after much laughter 
 and congratulation, the crowd parted with smiles to let 
 the Englishmen pass, "and I'm glad you \)t the beggar 
 off, Bering. It wasn't his fault, and he 1 st have been 
 beastly uncomfortable. Now, if you could have quodded 
 
 i' :l. 
 
■1^ 
 
 1 66 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 " I hope to do that by and by," replied Vincent signifi- 
 cantly, "but it was just as well the crowd should laugh 
 to-day. These religious gatherings are always a bit 
 risky — and, as you know, Dillon is having trouble over 
 at the gaol. 'Pon my soul, I don't know which is worst 
 to manage — fifteen hundred scoundrels, or a hundred 
 and fifty thousand saints." 
 
 "A hundred and fifty!" echoed Lance, ** will there 
 be as many as that .<• " 
 
 " Quite. So it is as well they should laugh ; for even 
 with the extra contingent of police we should find it a 
 bit hard to manage them if they didn't." 
 
 True ; but unfortunately the laughter of the many in- 
 volves the discomfiture of the few ; an in this case, 
 these were the most unscrupulous men i* Eshwara. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 oh! DEM GOLDEN SLIPPERS ! 
 
 « 
 
 iH: 
 
 If I were a man — I would fight." 
 
 The words were spoken by Erda Shepherd as the two 
 young men entered the drawing-room of the mission 
 house. 
 
 " Let me fight for you ! " said Captain Dering, in his 
 most ornate style, as, in the pause following on the in- 
 terruption of their arrival, he went forward to shake 
 hands. "My sword is always at the service of the 
 ladies." 
 
 Then a certain feeling, as of electricity in the air, a 
 certain look on the faces round him — for most of the 
 mission workers had already arrived — warned him that 
 this was no jesting matter, and he continued in better 
 taste, " I trust there is nothing wrong ? " 
 
 "Wrong!" echoed Erda, who in a mechanical, abso- 
 lutely indifferent manner was shaking hands with Lnnce ; 
 "Yes! grievously wrong!" — her voice was almost strid* 
 ent in its decision — " hideously wrong 1 " 
 
 ^IrJ 
 
OH! DEM GOLDEN SLIPPERS! 
 
 167 
 
 Here Dr. James Campbell, who had been laying clown 
 the law to a group of other black coats, came up and put 
 the telegram he was holding into Captain Bering's hand. 
 
 " Perhaps you can explain this," he said severely, 
 " we generally have to thank the military authorities 
 for such interference." 
 
 "Not in this case, so far as I am concerned," replied 
 Vincent, after a glance at the first sentence. Then he 
 read on, everyone else in the room silent, expectant. 
 
 It was from the Commissioner, saying, that from pri- 
 vate information given him, he regretted that, in the 
 interests of peace, he must, as magistrate, forbid any 
 street preaching or public profession of faith during the 
 next two days. Feeling was running high in many ways, 
 and it was necessary to be extremely cautious. 
 
 '* I can assure you, sir," said Vincent, handing back the 
 telegram, " I am not the informant. At the same time " 
 — here he faced about to the room generally — "I think 
 the Commissioner is right. Our government is neu- 
 tral — " ^ • 
 
 '* Neutral ! " interrupted the Reverend David Camp- 
 bell, whose blonde face was flushed with excitement. 
 " If it were neutral we would not complain. But does 
 this prohibition extend to the priests of other religions.^ 
 No ! a thousand times, no ! It is only another instance 
 of the fact, that we, who have the strongest claim on a 
 Christian government — " 
 
 "Possibly," put in Captain Dering, "but I am only 
 a soldier. I do not ask questions. I obey." 
 
 "And we are soldiers too," said Dr. Campbell, weight- 
 ily, "and our orders are to be instant in season and 
 out cf season." 
 
 A little murmur of approval ran through the com- 
 pany. There was a militant look on every face, a mili- 
 tant ring in every voice, as they discussed what ought 
 to be done. The women workers, with Erda at their head, 
 went solid for defiance, — only Mrs. Campbell making 
 the reservation "if James approved." So did some of 
 the men, notably David Campbell, who passed from one 
 
 
 \\ 
 
1 68 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 m 
 
 group to another, his pale blue eyes a-glisten with en- 
 thusiasm. 
 
 Erda's followed him with such approval, that Lance 
 crossed over pugnaciously to where she stood, with a 
 pretty flush on her cheeks, listening. 
 
 ** It is a pity you haven't got Jean Ziska's drum, 
 Miss Shepherd," he said. " By Jove ! how you would 
 bang it! Then, right or wrong, there would be a high 
 old row, and that would just suit me ! " 
 
 "There can scarcely. Sir Lancelot," — she paused on 
 the title with a strain after contempt which did not 
 somehow come off, — "be a question as to right or 
 wrong in this case." 
 
 He gave a kindly, almost indulgent laugh. "There 
 never can be, really, of course. One is bound to be 
 right, the other wrong. The mischief is to know t'other 
 from which ! Now I expect the sixty thousand nobles, 
 and the grand-master who were left dead on the field, 
 and the two thousand poor devils who got drowned in 
 the river besides, and all the others — you know about 
 'em, of course, and you must admit he was a blood- 
 thirsty chap at any rate! — had got a musical instru- 
 ment of some sort, too. You can't fight without a band, 
 Miss Shepnerd, specially drums and fifes. But Jean 
 Ziska was blind ; so he could only hear his own music." 
 
 " And I hear it, too," she said superbly, with all the 
 more defiance, because his words touched her innate 
 sense of justice, as they did so often. 
 
 As she spoke, the not unusual sound — considering 
 that one side of the mission house gave on the city — 
 of a native tom-tom drifted in through the open window, 
 causing Lancelot's eyes to brim over with smiles. 
 
 "That isn't it, anyhow, is it. Miss Shepherd.?" he 
 said. " I saw that drum-banger as I came past just now 
 — the funniest old dried stick of a Brahmin you ever 
 set eyes on. And you know those * round the mulberry 
 bush,' fairy-ring, endless circles of men and women 
 hand in hand we used to cut out of newspaper when we 
 were kids .'' Well, he was using gilt paper, and trying 
 
OH! DEM GOLDEN SUPPERS! 
 
 169 
 
 he 
 t now 
 ever 
 Iberry 
 omen 
 ■sn we 
 rying 
 
 to make a miracle out of the * biz ' / One god, he said, 
 in many ; *:he outline being the same, and tlie eye of 
 faith sufficient to fill in the details of divinity! The 
 people were buying them by dozens for the half of noth- 
 ing. I asked 'em why, and they said as toys for their 
 children. So I expect it will be the endless circle of 
 boys and girls again — don't you } For, you know," he 
 went on in the confidential voice which, dimly, she rec- 
 ognized was for her alone, " I've never been able to 
 find out the least difference in kids. I talk to the little 
 beggars when I'm out shootitjg, you know, and — well! 
 the boys are just as much boys as I used to be — " 
 
 Used to be ! Yet once again, for the hundredth time 
 at least since they had first met, barely a month ago, his 
 youth, his boyish, whole-hearted, healthy zest in life 
 made her eyes soft ; made her feel, with all the true 
 womanhood in her that, if she ever had a son, she 
 prayed he might be like this. And something else she 
 recognized — not for the first time, either; namely, that 
 boyish, almost thoughtless as he was, puzzling himself 
 not at all with the problems of life, you could neve»* dip 
 below the surface without finding him, as it were, there 
 before you ; finding him clear-eyed, ready to treat the 
 shady side of things as he treated the light side; that 
 is, with an absolutely limpid honesty. 
 
 So, as she stood silent, checked in her desire to check. 
 Father Ninian, who had just entered with Laila, came 
 up to greet her, and having done so, turned to Lance 
 with kind eyes and voice. 
 
 "Captain Bering has just told me ♦'hat we have to 
 call you Sir Lancelot Carlyon. I am sorry for the 
 cause, since your uncle was a man who made the world 
 better by being in it; — as — as you will. It is a fine 
 old name, Sir Lancelot! It carries with it a fine inherit- 
 ance of h nour ; therefore I can wish no better wish 
 for the world, as well as for yourself, than that you may 
 hand it on to your son. So, peace be with you ! " His 
 clasped hands unfolded themselves for a space as he 
 passed on, leaving those two once more standing to- 
 
M 
 
 170 
 
 THE HO. S OF f;. 
 
 ,0u\ D 
 
 \i \i^ 
 
 gether with that sense of being sin.jled out for friend- 
 ship which had come to them in the begiiming. 
 
 And this was to be the end of it ? Even to her it 
 seemed impossible. To him it made the impossibility 
 certain. 
 
 "Miss Shepherd," he said suddenly, "I have some- 
 thing I must say to ycu this i?fLernoon. Crme into the 
 verandah, after you have done pouring out the tea, and 
 let me say it." 
 
 There was so much of command in his voice that she 
 might have resented it, had not Father Ninian's voice 
 risen at that moment ; firmly, yet with its usual faint 
 hesitancy, in words which made everyone in the room 
 pause to listen. 
 
 " I, and I only, am responsible, Dr. Campbell. I 
 gave the Commissioner the information on which he has 
 acted," here he raised his hand against interruption. 
 " I have been fifty ye.\rs at Eshwrira ; fifty times have I 
 seen the pilgrims pass lo the * Cradle of the Gods ' lis- 
 tening peacefully to your preaching. But this year there 
 is something new." He paused to put on his spectacles, 
 yet the keenness they brought to his face was dimmed 
 by wistfulness. "I cannot quite tell what it is. There 
 is something beyord the things I know, though these 
 are many — small, :;: i^ true, but cumulative. Still, this is 
 certain ; the pulse ot the people beats irregularly to-day, 
 and that means danger to the body corporate. It may 
 pass ; yet the faintest stimulus may upset the whole 
 balance of the organism. So, my friends, as our cause 
 is eternal, as we have time — " 
 
 "Time!" interrupted David Campbell, passionately, 
 " but now is the appointed time. Think, sir, how many 
 of these poor deluded souls, striving after salvation, 
 may die upon the road to their false gods — none can 
 know how many better than you, who — " 
 
 The old priest looked at the young one with a whole 
 lifetime cf sad wisdom in his face. " Yes ! " he said, 
 .softly, "for I am very old. I have seen half a world 
 die upon il^ road to the 'Cradle of the Gods.' Die — 
 
OHi DE.V GOLDEW SUPPERS! 
 
 vn 
 
 friend- 
 
 D her it 
 
 ssibility 
 
 e some- 
 into the 
 tea, and 
 
 hat she 
 ;s voice 
 lal faint 
 le room 
 
 .bell. I 
 \ he has 
 ruption. 
 > have I 
 pds ' lis- 
 ar there 
 ctacles, 
 dimmed 
 
 There 
 
 h these 
 
 , this is 
 
 to-day, 
 
 It may 
 
 whole 
 r cause 
 
 )nately, 
 V many 
 Ivation, 
 no can 
 
 I whole 
 e said, 
 world 
 Die — 
 
 though we have not the courage to say so, — v/ith theii* 
 faces set to the eternal goal of humanity ; to the n jding 
 of something we have lost. And something k ,;p.s iii 
 all back. What is it.? Have we the secret moi ; ti.an 
 they, who say, as we do, that it is sin .'' " 
 
 His voice had fallen into a strangely musical rhythm, 
 so that Dr. Campbell's, following it, seemed harsh 
 indeed. 
 
 " We know we have. We have the certainty — we 
 are missionaries of that certainty — " 
 
 "And I — to my shame be it said," interrupted 
 Father Ninian, with a curious return to worldly courtesy 
 as he removed his spectacles, "have never tried to make 
 a convert ; therefore I can scarcely hope to persuade 
 you ; but if, gentlemen, I might be allowed to talk the 
 matter over with you — " 
 
 "A most sensible suggestion," assented Dr. Camp- 
 bell, looking round on his younger, less experienced col- 
 leagues ; " I should be loth to act hastily, and give 
 occasion to the scoffer. Mamma, will you send, our 
 tea into the dining room .'' " 
 
 The pure practicality of the last wordj seemed to 
 relieve the general tension, and Vincent ^)«. .iii^ — who 
 had been looking horribly bored — see i:g the piano 
 open, sat down to it, as the dissentients moved off into 
 their cave of AduUam, and began to play, " La Donna ^ 
 mobile ; " saying, with a laug' : — 
 
 ^^ CJierchez la fcmnie ! Depend upon it, Mrs Camp- 
 bell, there is a woman at the bottom of it. I know from 
 personal experience that she is always fatal to my peace 
 and pulse on any road." 
 
 Erda Shepherd, holding her head very high, crossed 
 over to pour out the tea ; whereupon Vincent, being 
 mischievously inclined, suddenly changed the tune to 
 " Where'er you walk," which he played daintily, purely, 
 altogether charmingly, so causing Muriel Smith, who 
 had lately joined the party, o relax her faint frown at 
 his remark. 
 
 "Miss Shepherd objects," he went on provokingly. 
 
 ■' •«! 
 
i'l 
 
 J 72 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 " She doesn't believe in men fighting for women. She 
 scorned the offer of my svv^ord in favour — excuse me 
 for having overheard — of some drum or another. What 
 was it, Miss Shepherd } I really only heard Lance say 
 you would like to bang it." 
 
 P>da flushed all over her face. " I was only alluding 
 to Jean Ziska's drum, which was sounded to call the 
 Hosts of the Lord to arms." 
 
 Mrs. Campbell gave a fine, hearty shudder. "My 
 dear," she said, " why can ye not leave that gruesome 
 tale alone .'* For it's just an awful tale, Mrs. Smith. 
 As if he could not be content with doing his duty in 
 this life, but must leave his skin behind for the next 
 generation." 
 
 " We have biblical warranty for that sort of thing, 
 Mrs, Campbell," said the sharp-voiced lady who owned 
 the small black coat. ** Elijah left his mantle." 
 
 " Hoots ! " interrupted Mrs. Campbell, scornfully. 
 " We all have to leave our body-wear, but a skin's dif- 
 ferent altogether, ^c sou'd just have gone to the grave 
 with him, honest man, dust to dust, ashes to ashes. 
 I've often heard Dr. James say there was nothing in 
 the world for tying the hands o' the leevin' like dead 
 men's dispositions. They're just a mortification indeed 
 to a' concerned." 
 
 There was always something about the good lady's 
 comfortable common-sense which made further discus- 
 sion difficult, and the talk wandered into less rugged 
 paths until, the time for leisure from Erda's duties as 
 te>^ -maker being close at hand. Lance went out deliber- 
 pttCiV into the verandah which overhung the river, or 
 rathe; the spit of sand-bank which jutted out from this, 
 the tvirning-point of the city's triangle. On the right, 
 the wail, set with its temple spires, trended away to meet 
 the bridge, on the left to join the line of the palace, the 
 baihing-steps, the Fort. In front of him, as he stood 
 leaning over the balustrade at the western end of the 
 verandah, lay dull streaks of sand, bright gleams of 
 water, and beyond them — dim, mysterious — was the 
 
OH! DEM GOLDEN SUPPERS! 
 
 173 
 
 She 
 ase me 
 What 
 ice say 
 
 lluding 
 all the 
 
 "My 
 Hesome 
 Smith, 
 duty in 
 e next 
 
 thing, 
 owned 
 
 nfully. 
 n's dif- 
 \ grave 
 
 ashes, 
 ling in 
 e dead 
 indeed 
 
 lady's 
 discus- 
 rugged 
 ties as 
 ieliber- 
 ver, or 
 m this, 
 
 right, 
 o meet 
 ce, the 
 ; stood 
 of the 
 ims of 
 as the 
 
 great level plain of India, ow whose scarce distinguishable 
 edge the sun was setting behind a bank of deep purple 
 cloud. It was a long, low, aLnost level bank, outlined 
 sharply against the sea of j.;oMen-green light above it. 
 There was scarcely a hint ot sunset fire save in a trail- 
 ing chain of little fleecy golden flocks, which stretched 
 away from the purple of the clouds into the deepening 
 purple of clear sky overhead. 
 
 Lance, waiting, watched that clear, almost level, out- 
 line, until, as clouds do when gazed at fixedly, it took 
 shape for him as the body of a dead warrior half-covered 
 by a pall. The straight sweep yonder was the shield, 
 still held upon the arm, the peak of shadow below it was 
 the mailed feet. There was the curve of the throat ; 
 the head thrown back ; the feathery plumes of the hel- 
 met. The whole world seemed his bier; the stars, just 
 trembling into sight, the watch-lights round it. 
 
 " Do you see .'' " he asked, as Erda joined him. " Fro7n 
 the great deep to the great deep he goes.'' 
 
 She recognized the quotation ; and though she had 
 come out full of determination to deny the glamour of 
 their mutual comprehension, it claimed her in a second. 
 
 " Yes ! " she answered quickly, and pointing to the 
 trailing drift of cloudlets, added, ^^ bound by gold chaitis 
 abojit the feet of God.'' 
 
 He turned to look at her then, forgetting fancy in a 
 sudden certainty. 
 
 ** I thought I had something to tell you," he said, "but 
 \ think you know it already, don't you } " 
 
 " Yes ! " she answered, held captive still by that inev- 
 itable understanding. "I think I do." 
 
 He paused a moment ; then going back to the now 
 fading likeness of that dead "King of the Dead," contin- 
 ued : " Then that ends it so — so far as I am concerned. 
 But it remains as an excuse for my asking a question. 
 Miss Shepherd, why are you going to marry your cousin .'' " 
 
 She had known this was coming. " For a great many 
 reasons," she began boldly ; then paused, wishing for 
 the first time that these reasons had been fewer, feeling 
 
174 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 that the possession of but one would have made speech 
 easier. " To begin with, it has been the dream of my 
 life." 
 
 He turned on her with an amaze which was almost 
 ludicrous. *' What ! to marry him .'' " 
 
 She frowned angrily. " No ! To work — to help — to 
 give my sympathy — to stand hand in hand with someone 
 who, as he does, gives himself, as I do, to the great work. 
 To someone whose life will be mine — whom I can respect 
 and admire and — and love — in the best sense of ihe 
 wcrd — " Her voice, gaining confidence from its own 
 stat'iments, rose almost passionately. 
 
 Lance looked at her with his clear eyes, and nodded. 
 " Yes ! I quite understand. But what has that to do 
 with marrying him } How will the — the great Work be 
 furthered by your having to look after the house and all 
 that } And it isn't as if you couldn't give the help and 
 sympathy without marrying a fellow. Even the love — 
 at least I think so. Now, I want to marry you, be- 
 cause — " 
 
 "Yes, — " she said severely, as he paused — she felt 
 glad to change places with him in the witness box — 
 
 "Because, to begin with, it doesn't seem possible for 
 me to live my life — I mean my everyday life, trying to 
 rub along, you know, without doing any harm ; keep- 
 ing things going as — as my people have always kept 
 them, unless you help me. And then — " he paused 
 again — "from the first moment I sav,/' you, you reminded 
 me — " he paused so long this time that a faint wonder 
 as to what he was going to say next made her heart 
 beat, as she watched him leaning over the balcony, looking 
 dreamily at that fading likeness of a dead * King of the 
 Dead.' 
 
 " I don't suppose anyone had a happier, jollier child- 
 hood than I had," he said suddenly, " though I was au 
 orphan. I lived at Tregarthen, you know." He turned 
 to her as he spoke, and smiled. " You should have seen 
 my grandfather and grandmother. Miss Shepherd. They 
 were like the double Christmas number of an illustrated 
 
 P 
 c 
 
 It 
 
OH! DEM GOLDEN SUPPERS! 
 
 175 
 
 
 paper! She used to boast that she never saw a naughty 
 child ; and she never did, for the dear old lady always 
 walked out of the room promptly when we tried it on. I 
 remember it used to take the starch out awfully, having 
 no audience. But it was the same in everything. It 
 beat even a boy to be really bad in that house, some- 
 how. Yes! we had jolly times ! You would have liked 
 it — you would like it now" — he turned swiftly and 
 held out both hands — "Come to it! — Come, and be 
 Lady Carlyon as she was ! People may say all that 
 means nothing, but it means everything to a woman to 
 be able to count on an inheritance like that for her — " 
 he broke off as some of the others came out into the 
 balcony, and bending closer to her, went on in a low 
 voice, "I've said nothing of my love — you know all 
 that — and I think — Yes ! — " his voice took a note of 
 certainty — ** I think you — you like me well enough — 
 don't you } " 
 
 There was something so truth-compelling in his face, 
 his voice, that she felt thankful for the tepid word like — 
 
 ** I like you very much, Sir Lancelot," she said, trying 
 not to let her voice betray the absolute tenderness she 
 felt, "but, as you told me just now, that is no reason why 
 I should marry you." 
 
 ** It is at least as good as yours for marrying him'' he 
 broke in quickly. "At least it has to do with you — 
 with me — with our happiness — with mine at any rate! 
 Do you remember when you first told me your name — 
 The World's Desire I called it — the woman with the 
 red-gold hair, the red-gold hem to her garment, the red- 
 gold apple in her hand — you are that to me — Erda! 
 give me my heart's desire — " 
 
 His voice — low, quick, passionate — thrilled through 
 her. She saw herself as she had seen herself then. 
 
 "Yes! it has to do with you, with me! " she echoed 
 desperately, "but only we two." 
 
 "No! — " he interrupted — "with more than that, 
 surely ! " 
 
 In the pause which followed, one vision faded in an- 
 
 It 
 
 i:r 
 
1^6 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Other, and her own wish, that if she ever had a son he 
 might be as this man, came to make her remember 
 Father Ninian's words, •' I can wish no better wish for 
 the world ! " 
 
 But Father Ninian could not have said so to her. 
 She could do better for the world in the other life, the 
 other work. The very self-sacrifice of it attracted her, 
 vague though the sense of that was, as yet. 
 
 " Sir Lancelot," she said at last, ** I am very sensible 
 of the honour — " 
 
 ** Don't — for heaven's sake," he interrupted. **That 
 is — excuse me — bunkum." 
 
 She felt glad of the faint resentment which came to 
 her aid. " I am, all the same," she continued ; " but it 
 is impossible. Perhaps if I did not look forward as I 
 do; perhaps if I only sought happiness; but — " she 
 clasped her hands tightly and the militant look came 
 back to her face — **I am sworn to another work — the 
 noblest work of all — to bring light to those that sit in 
 darkness." 
 
 Lance gave an odd little laugh, full of bitterness. 
 "You leave me out in the black night, anyhow," he 
 said. 
 
 True enough, in one way, for the quick dusk had 
 closed in around them ; but as he spoke, a great white 
 shaft of light like a moon-ray shot, almost as if in denial — 
 widening on its way, from the shadowy stretches beyond 
 the river ; shot waveringly, as if uncertain, until, focus- 
 sing itself full on the verandah, it turned the dusk to day. 
 
 "The search-light!" cried Mrs. Smith, clapping her 
 daintily gloved little hands. " Eugene will be so 
 pleased. He couldn't positively swallow a mouthful at 
 lunch because, when he thought all was right, some- 
 thing went wrong. That's why he didn't come. Miss 
 Shepherd," she added, for the iight had effectually 
 joined the scattered groups into one. " I positively 
 couldn't tear him away, but I made him promise to turn 
 the thing on here if he succeeded. And he has. Isn't 
 it splendid ? " 
 
son he 
 member 
 vish for 
 
 to her. 
 life, the 
 ed her, 
 
 sensible 
 
 <( 
 
 That 
 
 ame to 
 •* but it 
 rd as I 
 -" she 
 k came 
 c — the 
 : sit in 
 
 erness. 
 w," he 
 
 >k had 
 : white 
 nial — 
 Deyond 
 
 focus- 
 to day. 
 ig her 
 be so 
 iful at 
 
 some- 
 , Miss 
 :tua]ly 
 itively 
 turn 
 
 Isn't 
 
 OH! DEM a OLD EM SUPPERS! 
 
 ^77 
 
 Mrs. Campbell looked doubtful. " It's just too much 
 like the last day, comin' unawares, and makin* a' things 
 manifest, for my taste. An' I wonder what Dr. James 
 will say to it .^ " 
 
 " I wonder what the natives will say to it .'' " said Vin- 
 cent Dering, looking across at Lance. 
 
 ** Say ! " echoed the tart lady. " I know what they 
 should say — that, of course, we know a great deal more 
 than they do." 
 
 "And, besides," added a new and gushing voice, *Mt 
 is so beautifully, suggestively true. We have the light, 
 we can light them." 
 
 " Oh ! but tliat is such a bother," came Laila Bona- 
 ventura's full-throated tones. " I hate having to see 
 things I don't care to see. I much prefer to have my 
 own candle, don't you } " 
 
 She had been finding it dull work waiting for her 
 guardian's return from the dining room, even though 
 Vincent had, now and again, found opportunity for a 
 word or look. He took advantage of one now to say, 
 " It will be pleasanter by and by, won't it ? We must 
 settle the time before you leave." 
 
 "What time.?" asked Muriel Smith, who happened 
 to overhear his undertone. She had been vaguely curi- 
 ous at their apparent avoidance of each other, their 
 occasional lapses into familiarity, ever since she had 
 challenged them at the Viceroy's party. 
 
 "Time!" echoed Vincent, coolly. "Of that new 
 song, of course. Come in, Miss Bonaventura, let us 
 decide about it." 
 
 The girl swept up her long lashes solemnly. " I 
 should think a twelve beat would be best, really. It is 
 safer when there are so many accidental notes." 
 
 His face, as he led the way to the piano, was a study. 
 If she had lived her life in a vaudeville at the Folics 
 Berghes she could scarcely have been more at home in 
 intrigue, yet her absolute sincerity and unconsciousness 
 of wrongdoing was as palpable. On the whole, he felt 
 vexed ; the more so because the vaudeville dialogue proved 
 
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 TI/E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 unnecessary, since a sudden concentration of the party 
 to hear the verdict of the AduUamites, who at that 
 moment came out of the dining room, would have given 
 them ample time for more dignified conversation. 
 
 Erda was in the front rank of the eager little crowd, 
 her hopes, her enthusiasms, heightened by the deliberate 
 choice she had just made, when Dr. Campbell, as the 
 recognized head, began to speak. They had come 
 unanimously to the conclusion, he said, that absolute 
 revolt at this late hour would be unwise. Whether 
 Father Ninian Bruce was justified, by the circum- 
 stances, in his adverse report was another matter. Per- 
 sonally he denied it ; nor did he propose that they should 
 sit down quietly under the interference. They were 
 only forbidden to preach in Eshwara. Therefore they 
 had come, again unanimously, to the resolution of leav- 
 ing Eshwara for the time in a body. It would be a 
 solemn protest ; and they could thus render both to 
 Caesar and to God, since they could preach at other 
 pilgrim stations on the road. It would be a noble 
 protest which was certain of proving blessed. 
 
 The words roused no little enthusiasm, mingled with 
 undoubted relief in most cases; but Erda, standing be- 
 side her cousin, said in an undertone, "Did you assent 
 to that, David 1 " 
 
 " I suggested it," he answered, in a louder voice, not 
 without some self-satisfaction. " It appeared to me to 
 meet the exigencies of the case admirably, and it will 
 be very useful, let me tell you, at home. It will empha- 
 size the difficulties and dangers we have to contend 
 against. It will show our meek reasonableness, and 
 then — " he looked round with a jubilant smile — "it 
 seems to me such a beautiful idea that the only result 
 of this attempt to gag us will be that the thousands of 
 poor benighted souls will have a chance of hearing the 
 Truth in many places instead of one." 
 
 But Erda's voice broke in on the hum of applause 
 almost harshly, filling the room with its defiance. "I 
 think it cowardly ; I would fight — if I were a man." 
 
ECHOES 
 
 179 
 
 le party 
 
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 applause 
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 <( 
 
 nan. 
 
 M 
 
 " You would beat Jean Ziska's drum ! " laughed Vin- 
 cent Bering, rising from the music stool where he had 
 been holding Laila's hand under cover of the new song, 
 — an occupation which always made him feel as if all 
 the wine of life had gone to his head. " You refused 
 my sword just now. Miss Shepherd, so I place my drum- 
 stick at your disposal." 
 
 So, with a reckless gaiety, he seized on a painted 
 tambourine which good Mrs. Campbell had hung as an 
 ornament on the wall, — it was bedaubed with two white 
 lilies and a butterfly rampant, — and catching up a tea- 
 spoon from the table, he began to sing in his pretty, 
 light-comedy voice, " Oh ! dem golden slippers ! " while 
 the tambourine, under his skilful drumming, throbbed 
 to the words : — 
 
 " Golden slippers on a golden stair, 
 Golden slippers on my tired feet, 
 Golden slippers dat we all mus' wear 
 Becos' dey are so sweet." 
 
 He sang well, he played better ; and both voice and 
 drumming echoed out through the open windows. 
 
 "They are singing in the viissen,'' said the people 
 in the courtyard to the pilgrims, who were still gather- 
 ing to the miracles, like moths round a candle. "It is 
 not wise to listen ; folk become as they are, if they do." 
 
 Some of the pilgrims laughed and some stopped their 
 ears ; but even so, the throbbing of the tambourine was 
 
 in the air. 
 
 " Golden slippers on a golden stair, 
 Golden slippers on my tired feet, 
 Golden slippers dat we all mus' wear." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ECHOES 
 
 If the twopenny-halfpenny tambourine — which had 
 been bedaubed with its white lilies and rampant butter- 
 fly by a suburban maiden lady for a mission sale, and, 
 
 . 'I 
 
 
i8o 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 remaining over from that, had been bought in at half 
 price by Mrs. Campbell for the adornment of her draw- 
 ing-room, — had been indeed Jean Ziska's famous drum, 
 Eshwara could hardly have been more restless than it 
 was on the night after Vincent Dering had sung, " Oh ! 
 dem golden slippers ! " to its accompaniment. The tune 
 had occurred to him in an instant, without thought, simply 
 as one he had sung more than once when doing bones 
 and tambourine in a nigger troupe at a soldiers' sing- 
 song. He had meant nothing by ; it and yet the words, 
 
 " Golden slippers on a golden stair, 
 Golden slippers dat vve'se got to wear," 
 
 fitted their environment ; that atmosphere of effort after 
 something beyond, above the real, the actual ; the inev- 
 itable climbing of a golden stair, the inevitable wearing 
 of the golden shoes, the inevitable search after the 
 golden gates which, found, will open upon Paradise. 
 True, the Paradise differed to each pair of yearning 
 eyes and weary feet ; but the longing for it as a per- 
 sonal gain, spiritual or bodily, was identical. 
 
 For Paradise is the Desire of the World still ; whether 
 men find it in the good they lost, or the Love which lost 
 it for them. 
 
 And in Eshwara that night the desire rose strenuously, 
 militantly. 
 
 Erda, packing her boxes in haste, since she and her 
 aunt had arranged to start with the others at dawn, felt 
 as if she had, at last, closed her hand firmly on the 
 plough. There could be no looking back now. The 
 golden slippers were on her feet, the golden stairs before 
 her, the golden gates within sight. She had said good-by 
 to Lance without a quiver. She even smiled softly, ten- 
 derly, as she set an unopened deal box to go with her 
 others. It was one which the Reverend David had 
 brought with him from England, and which had been 
 made over to her, not without nods and winks, smiles 
 and suspicions of tears, from her aunt. For it con- 
 tained the wedding dress. It was a Moravian wedding 
 
ECHOES 
 
 i8i 
 
 dress of ths old style, to suit Erda's fancy ; and she had 
 been quite anxious to see the delicate white muslin robe 
 and the quaint little cap, with its bunch of orange blos- 
 soms, which was to mark her as both bride and matron. 
 But it had seemed a pity, in careful Mrs. Campbell's 
 opinion, to unpack it only to repack it, and run the need- 
 less risk of crushing its daintiness. So there in its box 
 it lay still, untouched, unseen. 
 
 There would be real orange blossoms and to spare, the 
 girl told herself with a smile, in the garden at Hcrrnhut ; 
 for so the summer resting-place of the mission had been 
 called in deference to the Moravian extraction of those 
 who had built it and started the Christian settlement in 
 the tiny valley in which it stood. This lay some thirty 
 miles up the Hara, beyond the first range of hills ; and 
 the river, fresh from its mad rush from the snows 
 beyond, ran through it slackly, peacefully, before begin- 
 ning its long, swift, yet smooth, slide down the dark 
 ravine which cleft the outer range, until it ended in the 
 plains at Eshwara. 
 
 It was at Herrnhut that, every year, in turns of two 
 months during the hot weather, the missionaries ex- 
 changed work in the bazaars for the lighter labor of the 
 agricultural settlement. Naturally, therefore, it was 
 looked on as a sort of holiday house ; but this year it 
 would be something more. It would be the headquarters 
 of fight, the centre of the resistance which was to use 
 the Commissioner's order to cease firing as an excuse 
 for a more determined skirmishing. For it stood right 
 on the pilgrims' road. Indeed, Erda and the other rebels 
 would have to travel a good eight-and-twcnty miles along 
 that very road itself before coming to the slack water 
 where they could cross the river by a ferry, and finish 
 their journey through the level fields on its further side 
 to Herrnhut, with its homelike, peaceful surroundings. 
 The memory of them came to Erda, making her sense 
 of that inevitable climbing of the golden stair after 
 righteousness more acute ; since she had to face a 
 good-by to them also. And sooner than she had ex- 
 
l82 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ii 
 
 
 ! 
 
 pected, for the breaking 
 earlier than usual, owing 
 had made David, 
 speedier wedding, 
 days left, at mo^t. 
 The knowled,L;e, 
 helped her, rather. 
 
 up of winter work a week 
 
 to this secular interference, 
 
 eager to begin anew, plead for a 
 
 So there were only two or three 
 
 however, brought her no doubt ; it 
 to a greater certainty. 
 
 She had done right. Her feet were indeed upon the 
 golden stair ! 
 
 And in the other houses of the mission, where every- 
 one was disregarding sleep in the striving after some- 
 thing that was more to them than sleep, the atmosphere 
 was electric also, the thoughts militant. 
 
 So they were in the streets, the alleys of the town ; 
 for on the bridge of boats — that bridge which spanned 
 the broad expanse of water between the city and the 
 great plain of India — the pilgrims were passing, now, in 
 an unending stream — to take up their places as near as 
 might be to the Pool of Immortality, where, with the dawn, 
 the water would rise miraculously for the cleansing of sin. 
 
 ''Hdri! Hdrd! Hdrd! Hart!'' 
 
 The cry was almost incessant, but the eye could see 
 little, for the moon was young, the night dark. 
 
 '^Hdrd! Hdrt! Hdrt ! Hdrd!'' 
 
 Hour after hour it came, that cry on the dread Cre- 
 ator, the dread Destroyer. Monotonous, patient, almost 
 indifferent, yet absolutely insistent. 
 
 The golden-shod feet of the pilgrims, after whose 
 souls the missionaries yearned, were on the golden stair 
 also, and their golden gates would open at the 'Cradle of 
 the Gods ' ; must open, hidden though the goal was by 
 mist when it was day, by darkness when it was night. 
 
 What matter if it was hidden } For the gold-shod 
 feet might falter and fall ere that goal was reached ; but 
 the hidden spring of cleansing at the Pool of Immortal- 
 ity was theirs. It would rise at dawn ; rise as it did 
 always, every year. 
 
 ''Hdrd! Hdrt! Hdrt! Hdrd!'' 
 
 What matter Birth or Death, if the finding of that 
 lost paradise of purity was certain, 
 
ECHOES 
 
 183 
 
 a week 
 ference, 
 1 for a 
 •r three 
 
 ►ubt ; it 
 
 Don the 
 
 I every- 
 r some- 
 Dsphere 
 
 town ; 
 panned 
 ind the 
 now, in 
 near as 
 sdawn, 
 f of sin. 
 
 uld see 
 
 ,d Cre- 
 almost 
 
 whose 
 n stair 
 adle of 
 vas by 
 ight. 
 d-shod 
 d ; but 
 nortal- 
 
 it did 
 
 Out on the bridge, whence the cry came oftenest, 
 there was no doubt regarding this certainty ; but as each 
 weary pair of feet stumbled on the first stones of the 
 town, it stumbled into an atmosphere in which nothing 
 seemed sure, save that there was change ; that Eshwara 
 was not what it had been. 
 
 To begin with, it held soldiers. Wherefore } And 
 why had dead women been sent back to it by Mother 
 Ganges to curse the men whose love had killed them } 
 
 But what wonder, when the very logs, the fishes, were 
 stolen from the river nowadays ; and from the people 
 also. Then what of this strange new light.'* The light 
 which fed on men's brains! — that came and went at 
 pleasure — that was quite small at first, when but seven 
 or eight men had been sacrificed, but which, only an 
 hour or so agone, had showed in a huge ray, reeling 
 here and there through the darkness for God knows 
 what, then settling on it, making it impossible to hide 
 aught, prying into the very Holiest of Holies ! Had it 
 not shot into Mother Kali's very temple, and shown the 
 worshippers that two of her mighty arms were stuck on 
 with sealing wax ! What God would stand that ! And 
 how could the very Gods themselves work miracles 
 if everybody could see how they were done } 
 
 They had already refused to work them for pious y^^i 
 Gorakh-nath. What wonder } The Gods dirl not like 
 laughter, especially the laughter of M'lUcJias} 
 
 Therefore, who was to tell if the spring would even 
 rise in the Pool } So those who were wise would make 
 certain of at least a modicum of salvation, and go 
 straight to the bathing-steps ; since the river, anyhow, 
 must be there. 
 
 This suggestion of a cautious hedge was diligently 
 spread by the bathing-^/?^/ priests among the new 
 arrivals; who listened patiently. But so they did also 
 to the other priests whose business it was to scorn the 
 possibility of failure, and to deny the displeasure of the 
 
 ir 
 
 )f that 
 
 * Lit. : outcasts, used as a term of abuse for Europeans. 
 
 
1 84 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 • ■ I 
 
 
 i'f 
 
 Gods. To say that jogi Gorakh-n^th had been found 
 out by the Hnzoors in one of his usual tricks ; that was 
 all. So that people who wanted the genuine article, and 
 a real, good, old crusted miracle, had better come as 
 usual to the Pool. 
 
 The weary-footed, anxious-eyed climbers of the golden 
 stairs istened patiently, silently, even when the antago- 
 nists began, in vehement quarrel, to bandy threats, and 
 hint at worse portents to come. To their experience, 
 their hope, it seemed impossible even to dream their pil- 
 grimage in vain. The dawn would show, anyhow. So 
 hour l3y hour, minute by minute, the tide of pilgrims set 
 citywards till it brimmed over with faith and hope. And 
 these are dangerous things when charity depends on 
 them, and there are antagonistic claims to every alms. 
 So Eshwara was restless. 
 
 Over in the gaol, also, by which the golden-shod feet 
 passed so closely with their heart-stirring cry, it seemed 
 as if Vincent Bering's thrumming, following as it did 
 on the heels of Eugene Smith's success with the search 
 light, had set what Dr. Dillon called his Hosts of the 
 Devil in commotion. Indeed, that thrumming was 
 still going on when George Dillon had gone raging over 
 to conjure the experimenter, with oaths, to turn off his 
 confounded bull's-eye at once, or the prisoners would go 
 out of their judgment with thinking of the number who 
 would have to die that night in order to keep up 
 the supply of brain power ! — just too, as he had been 
 congratulating himself that the cholera scare was over. 
 Seventy-two hours, and not a case ! It was too bad ! 
 
 Eugene, whom he found on the roof of his house play- 
 ing with coils, batteries, accumulators, had suggested 
 eagerly that if there was real trouble, he might end it 
 by turning his light bang on to the gaol, and so reducing 
 it to a paralysis of sheer terror. Dr. Dillon, however, 
 had sworn violently that he would not have the poor 
 wretches frightened unnecessarily, especially when that 
 triumphant cry of those who were free to defy the devil 
 by seeking sanctification before death reminded them 
 
 h 
 
FXtlOFS 
 
 185 
 
 1 found 
 hat was 
 icle, and 
 :ome as 
 
 2 golden 
 antago- 
 ats, and 
 erience, 
 heir pil- 
 Dw. So 
 rims set 
 )e. And 
 ;nds on 
 ry alms. 
 
 liod feet 
 seemed 
 s it did 
 I search 
 5 of the 
 ng was 
 ng over 
 
 off his 
 ould go 
 3er who 
 eep up 
 ad been 
 as over, 
 bad! 
 se play- 
 ggested 
 
 end it 
 educing 
 owever, 
 le poor 
 len that 
 he devil 
 d them 
 
 that ///r>' could not — that they must die defiled, helpless, 
 hopeless ! That fear was, he said, in a way dignified, 
 worthy of consideration. And he did not anticipate 
 trouble unless there was treachery inside or out, though 
 perhaps he might, as a precaution, ask Der'ng for an 
 extra guard. But when the latter happened to come in, 
 as Mrs. Smith's escort home, while the doctor was still 
 there. Dr. Dillon apparently changed his mind. Any- 
 how, he pooh-poohed Captain Dering's offer to send one, 
 saying, the more you could keep a gaol to yourself the 
 better — or for the matter of that anything else! So, 
 with a curt good-night to Mrs. Smith, he went back to 
 his work, having Vincent to remark, carelessly, that 
 Dillon seemed in a bad temper. At wnich Muriel 
 smiled. There was something in the air, she said, con- 
 ducive to bad temper. She, herself, felt she must soon 
 have quarrelled with the doctor's assumption of knowing 
 better than anyone else ; so it was as well he had not 
 stopped to dinner. Her quarrelsomeness did not, how- 
 ever, extend to Vincent, who did ; indeed, she made her- 
 self so tenderly charming and unconsciously friendly 
 towards him that he began to accuse himself of having 
 been too irresponsive of late. The fact of being in love 
 did not preclude friendship for someone else, if, indeed, 
 he was really in love with Laila Bonaventura .■* In one 
 way he knew himself to be so ; but the idea of treating 
 this love of his on conventional lines was still repugnant 
 to him ; the thought of her, as his wife, barely attractive. 
 
 So, after a time spent pleasantly enough for those 
 two, Eugene Smith went off to his coils, and accumu- 
 lators, and batteries, half-sulky, half-bored, and wholly 
 ill-used at having to switch off, when he had at least 
 half an hour's electricity all ready stored for use. 
 
 He was grumbling over this fact when Vincent called 
 good-night to him before starting to drive back ; and he 
 answered that but for fools, who were afraid of going to 
 their proper place, he might have given Dering electric 
 light on the road. 
 
 •' No, thanks ! " cried Vincent, gaily, "there's enough 
 
 ( 
 
 • : 
 
 
 n 
 
1 86 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 , » 
 
 f . 
 
 H! 
 
 if 
 
 A 1 
 
 A 
 
 electricity in the air to-night without that. I believe 
 your machine has leaked, Smith ! I feel as if I should 
 give out sparks if anyone touched mc ! " 
 
 As he drove across the bridge Eshwara looked as if 
 it were doing that, too. There were lights everywhere, 
 twinkling, little, restless lights. The very spit, usually 
 dark with the darkness of primitive life after sundown, 
 was alive with them ; for the pilgrims were camping 
 there, as elsewhere. Nor were all the fisher folk abed 
 as usual, for that, surely, was one of them paddling up 
 stream on a dug-out, — just under the last si)an of the 
 bridge. He saw the man distinctly, not five yards from 
 him in the flash of the lamps as he drove past overhead, 
 and wondered what the mischief the fellow was doing at 
 that time of night, going up stream. 
 
 Something to be ashamed of, no doubt, else why 
 should he have sent the dug-out beyond the circle of 
 light v/ith a swift stroke } 
 
 Truly Father Ninian was right ; Eshwara was not 
 normal. Its pulse beat irregularly, and things were 
 going on which should not be going on — 
 
 A sudtlen shame made him glance at the shadowed 
 pile of the palace looming above the shadowed town. 
 It was all dark, save for one row of restless, twinkling 
 lights. Those were the little latticed windows of Laila's 
 sitting-room, that was fit for any king's favourite. He 
 had seen it already, might see it again at twelve, if she 
 was in one of her reckless moods when she would risk 
 anything for his sake. 
 
 Truly ! there were things goirg on ! — 
 
 But this was between themselves ; this could hurt no 
 one. By and by, of course, he would insist on a com- 
 monplace engagement, and a wedding. Yes ! a common- 
 place wedding. He had, despite his vague repugnance 
 to her origin, made up his mind to that. No one but 
 an utter cad could take what he was taking, and then 
 shake his bridle rein and ride away. But for the pres- 
 ent, it was the most absolutely perfect bit of romance 
 in his whole life. He could not, would not give it up. 
 
ECHOES 
 
 1S7 
 
 Laila was right ! This was the essence. As a rule, 
 people mixed love, diluted it, were vaguely ashamed of 
 its absorbing influence. But when you came to an ilyze 
 even the diluted feeling, its virtue lay in this irrn^ )nal 
 content, this desire for nothing better than this best of 
 pleasures — this paradise of a woman's or a man's love. 
 
 He laughed, suddenly, at the memory of Laila's quick 
 grasp of his meaning when Muriel had overheard his 
 remark about the time. Such quickness, in the latter, 
 would have made him revolt from it ; but with Laila it 
 was different. A passionate gratitude to the girl to 
 whom fear, remorse, the very possibility of change 
 seemed unknown, rose up and claimed him. Dear little 
 girl ! She was so absolutely single-minded in her love 
 for him. How could anyone expect him to forego the 
 luxury of such love yet awhile } 
 
 In thinking Laila single-minded, Vincent thought the 
 truth, so far as he was concerned. If love, passionate 
 as Juliet's, and far more innocent in one way, far more 
 rus^ in another, ever existed, hers was that love. Never- 
 theless, its very integrity made her curiously cunning 
 in regard to anything which threatened to disturb that 
 idyll in the garden. So, at that very moment, when 
 Vincent looked up at her windows asserting her absolute 
 lack of pretence and single-mindedness, she was pitting 
 her wits against old Akbar Khan in a manner worthy 
 of her grandmother, Anari Begum ; since Akbar, far 
 more than her guardian, was to be feared. The latter, 
 honest man, went to his bed, beyond the chapel, at ten 
 of the clock precisely ; but Akbar, who from ancient 
 habit was given to prowling about at night, and napping 
 in odd corners, had many chances of discovery. During 
 the last few days, however, when she, for her own pur- 
 poses, had let him talk, he had become so garrulous 
 regarding his past that she had recognized in him an 
 unscrupulous confidant, with whom, in face of the pos- 
 sibility of requiring one, it was wise to remain on terms. 
 
 So, as she lounged on the sofa, she listened to his 
 endless talk with tolerance. 
 
 J K 
 
 
 III., 
 
 
1 88 
 
 rirr. irnsrs or rm-: roRn 
 
 i' J' ' 
 
 " Nay ! " she interrupted at last. " If, as thou .saycst 
 she will, she brings me more dresses and jewels, she 
 may call me Begum, and hint at my being one, really, a 
 thousand times over! Why not? liegum and Princess 
 are the same, and my great-grandmother in Italy was 
 that. Pidar Narayan told me so to-day." 
 
 The memory of the old man's voice, when, with new- 
 found courage, she had (juestioned him concerning those 
 old days, made her eyes soft. Yes ! he would, he iiiitst 
 understand. So, by and by, when Vincent and she 
 were tired of playing Romeo anc,! Juliet (the story of 
 the star-crossed lovers had been her only reading since 
 Vincent had taken to quoting so much from it) they 
 would make Pidar Narayan play Friar Laurence, and 
 marry them on the sly. That would be so much more 
 amusing than a regular wedding. He could not refuse, 
 since he had once loved as she loved. You could hear 
 that in his voice; after how many years.? — fifty or 
 sixty ! And the Princess had, of course, loved also in 
 exactly the same way. Laila felt sure of it. That 
 curious, inexpressible feeling had come to her also. 
 Laila, trying to formulate that feeling, slipping her heel 
 idly in and out of her dainty little bronze shoe as she 
 lounged, suddenly remembered Vincent's song to the 
 tambourine, and laughed. That was it ! 
 
 " Golden feet upon a goklen stair." 
 
 That expressed it exactly. Two pair of feet going 
 side by side up a golden stair, to golden gates. So con- 
 tented. Ah, God ! how content ! Seeking something, 
 claiming something, yet still content. That feeling 
 came, sometimes, when you were saying your prayers. 
 A sort of yearning for, a sort of satisfaction /;/, some- 
 thing that was not you ; so, surely if it came then, there 
 could be no harm in it. 
 
 Harm ! The very sisters allowed that you must love 
 the man you were going to marry. And she and Vin- 
 cent would be married by and by and live happily, for 
 that was better than having a ''statue of pure gold'' 
 
 i\h .\ 
 
 1. >. 
 
ECHOES 
 
 1 80 
 
 , 
 
 erected to you! In the nioaiitiiiic, secrecy, so lon;^ as 
 Vincent wished to play Romeo ■Ar\i\ Juliet, was her cue ; 
 therefore, the more she coukl blind old Akhar, the more 
 he could be turned on a wron^ track, the better. Ms|)e- 
 cially when the turning; was so deli;^htliilly ridiculous! 
 
 She mana^^ed, however, not to laui;h her childish love 
 of mischief into Mumtaza Mahal's very face when, 
 after much shrinkinj^ into white sheets held up as 
 screens, and quick cutldlinij;s into corners at the faintest 
 suspicion of a possible peep, that good lady, in her very, 
 very best pink satin continuations, was ushered in 
 through the dark deserted passages of the palace, to 
 Laila's boudoir. For, despite the amusement, the girl's 
 heart was beating fast with determination to climb her 
 golden stairs without interruption. So she allowed her- 
 self to be kow-towed to, and called Begum -.sv?'//'/7;^« ; and 
 she accepted the new dress and jewels without protest. 
 Eagerly, in fact, since they were far more gorgeous than 
 the first, and caught her taste better. The former, 
 indeed, had been Roshan Khan's own choice, dictated 
 by his acquired knowledge of the sort of things 7ni')fi- 
 saJiibs admired ; these latter were her grandmother's, 
 purely, entirely oriental. The difference was great. 
 Put briefly, this was the costume in which Anari Begum 
 had flouted the Nawab, the otJier that in which she had 
 caught Bun-avatar's fancy. 
 
 Laila took up one of the heavy, gorgeous, glittering 
 garments. It smelt strongly of musk, attar of roses, 
 and jasmin, and she snuffed at it with a smile. That 
 was ever so much better than the dull lavender water, 
 which was the only scent her guardian said a lady could 
 use. Vincent would like that ; he, like she did, loved 
 strong scents. If only the stupid old ix'\\\y\j\:?:. thing 
 would go away in time, she would pat on t.'.at dress at 
 once, and so give him pleasure. That was all her thought. 
 
 As she sat, with a happy smile, her face half-buried 
 in a tiny, three-cornered corselet of scarlet net em- 
 broidered in seed pearls, Mumtaza and Akbar Khdn 
 winked at each other ; and Laila's sharp eyes, catching 
 
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 i !. 
 
1: 
 
 ■1 
 
 
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 If 
 
 
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 P I, 
 
 I ill 
 
 J'ii 
 
 III i 
 
 190 
 
 T/rE r/O.'^TS OF TITK LORD 
 
 this, brimmed over with laughter. She Telt glad the 
 rest of her face was hidden, until she was grave enough 
 to reply graciously to the hints, the suggestions ; for 
 Mumtaza had been bound over by oaths not to go too 
 fast, and she obeyed her instructions. 
 
 Even so, Akbar Khan, listening with folded hands in 
 a mantis-like attitude, his angles all crushed together 
 into humility, wondered if he was standing on his head 
 or his heels, as he heard Laila admit, gravely, that she 
 was certainly, in a way, the head of the family, in that 
 she possessed its land; but that, of course, Roshan was 
 really the heir. That it had given her great gratifica- 
 tion to see how thoroughly he had adopted English 
 ways. That, of course, it would be impossible for him 
 to marry an uneducated cow of a girl. Here, for a 
 moment, she had relapsed to sincerity in order to re- 
 mark that it must be impossible to love a person you 
 had not seen, and that for her pai c, she knew in an in- 
 stant if she was going to like or dislike people. If the 
 latter, she tried never to see them, really, again. Then, 
 remembering her part, she had resumed it hastily by 
 saying that no doubt she would see more of her cousin, 
 — who, by the way, was very nice-looking, — in the 
 future, as he was quite in society. 
 
 Old Mumtaza had hard work at this juncture to pre- 
 vent herself from cracking all her finger-joints over the 
 girl's head for luck, and wishing her a numerous off- 
 spring ; while Akbar gave a gasp that was not all 
 pleasure. He felt that he was being rushed, that the 
 crisis might come before he was ready for it. At this 
 rate, Pidar Narayan would have no chance of dying. 
 At this rate, Roshan Khan's castle in the air must 
 topple over from sheer lack of foundation to such a 
 lofty structure. 
 
 As he trotted back beside Mumtaza's curtained dJiooli 
 to that little parasite of a house against the palace wall, 
 where he knew Roshan was waiting for the upshot of 
 the interview, his one consolation was that bow-strings 
 were out of fashion 1 
 
 r.; 
 
ECHOES 
 
 191 
 
 In truth, there was no more restless man in Eshwara 
 that night than Roshan Khan. The desire for this 
 paradise had grown overwhelming, and as he listened to 
 his grandmother, while Akbar pointed each triumphant 
 appeal of the old lady's with a helpless ^'Gorcb-pun-wdc,'' 
 his face grew pale with emotion ; until, at the mention 
 of his good looks and Laila's desire to see him, he turned 
 fiercely to the go-between, and bade him fix a time ; the 
 sooner the better ! 
 
 Akbar felt inclined to tell the truth then. To admit 
 that he had never breathed a word of Roshan's preten- 
 sions to the Miss-sa/nba, and that, so far, the negotia- 
 tions only existed in his own imaginings. But the look 
 on Roshan's face — he had seen it often in his youth in 
 connection with women, and sacks, and bow-strings — 
 reduced him to protestations. He would do his best, 
 he said, but with Pidar Narayan it would be dif^cult to 
 
 manage. 
 
 Roshan strode about the little courtyard like a wild 
 beast in a cage, biting his mustache, and thinking. 
 Then he turned to the old phrase-monger. 
 
 " I have settled it. Before dawn to-morrow — not 
 this dawn, that is too nigh on us now — but the next, 
 thou shalt let me into the garden. Thou knowest the 
 little balcony which was not lit up } I will stay there, 
 waiting, till she come for an early walk among the 
 flowers. That can h<i managed. Then, if the coast is 
 clear, we can meet and talk. If not, there is no harm 
 done, for I can slip into the stream and swim back. 
 That will be best, since it is not possible by day, and at 
 night the menis do not receive visitors, as we do, with- 
 out reproach." 
 
 Roshan's knowledge of etiquette was sound, yet at 
 that very moment Laila, ablaze with gold and jewels, 
 was meeting her lover's eyes with a happy laugh. 
 
 •* What's in a dress } " she paraphrased, " it is no part 
 of me ! " 
 
 Was it not } Never had Vincent seen her look like 
 this ; so absolutely desirable, so perfectly adorable. 
 
 W 
 
 !il 
 
 t: 
 
 
li *■ 
 
 
 f 
 
 
 
 i 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 1! 
 
 i i 
 
 
 192 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LOKD 
 
 He caught her in his arms piid kissed her. The 
 heavy scent upon her dress assailed him. She looked up 
 into his eyes and laughed. 
 
 ^^ Biit trust 7ne, getitleman, V II prove more true,'' she 
 whispered, " than tJiose who have more cimnmg to be 
 
 strange, 
 
 "Juliet!" he whispered back, lost in his own mad 
 passion. "Juliet!" 
 
 Their gold-shod feet were upon the golden stairs ; the 
 gates of Paradise were before them. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE POOL OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 ''Hdrd! Hdri! Hart! Hdrd!'' 
 
 The cry was incessant now, for there was a glint of 
 light in the east ; and the hosts of pilgrims to the 
 * Cradle of the Gods ' were cramming, almost to solidity, 
 each street and alley in Eshwara which could be said, by 
 however long and tortuous a detour, to give access to 
 that small tank where, at dawn, the miraculous waters 
 of cleansing would rise, as they always did on this, the 
 great Day of Atonement. In the sea of slightly up- 
 turned faces, upturned in the vain hope of seeing over 
 the heads of those in front, the most noticeable thing was 
 the expression of mingled eagerness and patience. And 
 this was most noticeable in those who stood nearest to 
 the bamboo railing which had been erected (in a square 
 some four feet from the first step downwards) as a pre- 
 caution against a dangerous rush on all sides ; and in 
 consequence, a dangerous crush on those steep ^teps. 
 The only entrance to them, therefore, was by a sort of 
 double sheep-pen at the end nearest the town, by means 
 of which, when the time came, some fifty bathers would 
 be admitted to the railed square from the inner pen, 
 their places in which would be taken by the fifty in the 
 
 V-^ 
 
THE POOL OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 193 
 
 outer one ; their places, in turn, being filled by fifty 
 from the general crowd. By which double check no 
 more than fifty could stand at one time with no barrier 
 between their mortality and immortality ! The railing 
 itself was guarded every two yards by a yellow-legged 
 constable, and at the sheep-pens stood the two Euro- 
 pean police-officers in whose hands the peace and order 
 of the vast crowd lay. Their assistant stood at the 
 exit gate at the other end, and their three white helmets 
 showed strangely conspicuous amongst the bare or 
 saffron-turbaned heads. 
 
 The two at the sheep-pens were talking and laughing 
 to each other as Englishmen will before business begins ; 
 talking and laughing London talk, for one of them was 
 fresh from home furlough, and had only been detailed 
 for this special duty, on his way up country. 
 
 "Yes! I had a jolly day," he was saying. "The 
 dear old Heath was looking just as it always did. It 
 was like being born again to come back to the whole 
 caboodle — Aunt Sallies, Tommy Dods, Welshers, and 
 the lot — and then the enclosure — " A sudden sway 
 in the crowd made him look round hastily at his own. It 
 was all correct ; so many yards this way, so many that, 
 with yellow legs marking the yards, and those three 
 white helmets marking the limits v.uthin which regener- 
 ation was legal. 
 
 The sway ceased. The moment had not yet come, 
 though slowly, surely, the light grew, to give the great 
 mass of bronze faces a greyish, corpse-like tint, while, 
 half way up the sky behind them, the serrated edge of 
 the sacred snows grew pale, and cold, and stern, like the 
 very face of Death itself. 
 
 ''Hdri! Hard! Hard! Hdrt !'' 
 
 There was a note of anxiety in the cry now; for the 
 shadow thrown by the tall houses which hemmed in the 
 wide courtyard was growing paler, and in another 
 minute, at most, the twelve-foot square of cleansing 
 water, which was all the Gods vouchsafed, must surely 
 begin to rise and show at the bottom of those worn 
 
 
 1 II 
 
>'H;, 
 
 11: 
 
 1 ; 1 
 
 194 
 
 THE HOSTS Of TUr: LORD 
 
 generations of 
 
 stone steps — worn by generations on 
 golden-sliocl feet seeking immortality. 
 
 " Stand back, please ! Not yet ! " came an English 
 voice, inaudible for the rhythmic roar of the multitude ; 
 but the raised riding whip was sufficient. The eager- 
 ness died out for a moment from those nearest faces, 
 lost in a cheerful obedience, a respectful salaam or two, 
 a general acquiescence. 
 
 " I wish those devils of priests would turn on the tap," 
 remarked the other Englishman with a yawn. 
 
 "Yes!" answered the first speaker; "if you are on 
 duty, next year, I'd insist on the curtain being rung up 
 at the bill time. It is rough on the audience ; especially 
 when they don't cat-call ! " 
 
 He gave an imitation of a London gallery'? sign of 
 impatience, which made some of the golden-shod ones 
 stare ; for the rhythmic roar had died down in one of 
 those sudden silences which seize upon humanity even 
 when in masses. So that a faint " nimpa-tiim-tum-rinnpa- 
 tum-tiim " was distinctly audible from far. It was the 
 tom-tom of the old Brahmin, whom Lance Carlyon had 
 seen selling the endless circles of cut papers as a whole 
 pantheon of Gods. 
 
 It is an eminently disturbing sound, that ceaseless, 
 insistent throb of a tom-tom^ which has no end, no begin- 
 ning ; which holds ever in its beat the necessity for 
 something more ; for another repetition, and yet another. 
 
 So, on its ceaselessness, broke in again that swaying, 
 pulsing roar of many voices. 
 
 ''Hdri! Hdrdll^iiQ — Death— Creator— Destroyer!" 
 
 "Something must have gone wrong with the ball- 
 cock, and as usual, the plumber will be 'in directly fro7n 
 anotJier little job,' " said the man who had just come out 
 from England, reminiscently. He had gone there to 
 settle his wife and bairns in a jerry-built villa near 
 London ; so the memory of something beyond the iniqui- 
 ties of the plumber — those Borgias of modern life, deal- 
 ing death unchecked, undiscovered — made his eyes pass 
 beyond the crowd, pass the spires of the clustered 
 
THE poor. OF TMMORTATJTY 
 
 195 
 
 god-selling Brah- 
 
 grovving 
 
 temples, and settle on the still dark, western sky, over 
 whose curved edge lay the goal of his solitary feet, the 
 end of his pilgrimage, the cradle of Jiis divinities. 
 
 ** Stand back, please ! not yet ! " came his order again ; 
 and once more eagerness died down to obedience. Once 
 more that cry on the Creator, the Destroyer, ended in 
 that insistent, restless beat of the old 
 min's drum. 
 
 It was a strange scene. Above, was the 
 light of day ; below, the square stone font of immor- 
 tality, and between them a clamouring crowd, a careless 
 few. 
 
 And between tJiem what .'* 
 
 A light railing of bamboo, the dignity that doth hedge 
 an empire. That was all. 
 
 And now, with a sudden access of light, came the 
 quick indrawing breath of thousands to voice a sort of 
 sharp, short sob, followed by an instant's silence. 
 
 Then, long, soft, with the hush in it of some huge 
 wave far out at sea which swallows up a lesser one, the 
 out-going breath of those thousands voiced a sigh. 
 
 For the pool was still empty, though the dawn had 
 come. 
 
 Something was wrong. 
 
 Seriously wrong, to judge by one English face, as ic 
 turned to give a look roiund, then settled on another 
 English face. "There's something up — God knows 
 what — the Commissioner fearea a row, you know. 
 You'd better go to the Fort and ask Bering to send us 
 down every man he can ; men, you understand, not 
 sabres — as yet. And tell Pidar Narayan, he's a host in 
 himself with these pilgrims, — Ramanund too, you might 
 get him, — we want anyone who can help the crowd 
 to keep its temper, though I don't expect he'd be much 
 good — and there's no one else. Inspector!" here the 
 police officer turned to a silver-laced turban beside the 
 outer pen, "leave that in charge of Govinda and Suchet — 
 Stay ! Shiv-deo will be better ; he is a high-caste Brahmin. 
 And you go and send every twice-born constable you've 
 
 I; \ 
 
 w 
 
 * , \ 'I 
 
 % 
 
 1' t 
 
 iiit 
 
Ill 
 
 f;.i; 
 
 196 
 
 THE /rOSTS OF THE T ORD 
 
 
 Hi 
 
 got, and can trust, to every alley and street that leads 
 here ; for there wfll be an awful crush when those in 
 front don't move on. And — " he wrinkled his fore- 
 head in hasty thought — "have we anyone connected 
 with the temple priests, someone they can trust ? Ah ! 
 Annant, of course, — the very man! Send him to find 
 out if there is anything really wron^" ; and — " he low- 
 ered his voice, '* if it is anything to do with the siphon, 
 or whatever it is, get workmen and set it straight — pour 
 water down — anything ! Only there must be a miracle. 
 And be quick. If this crowd gets impatient — God 
 help it ! " 
 
 The last was to himself as he looked round the solid 
 packed mass of humanity. There was no sigh of im- 
 patience in it as yet ; only eagerness. 
 
 " And mind," he added, " no truncheons drawn till I 
 myself give the order." 
 
 The word passed in a low tone round the square of 
 authority, and that done, the head of it pulled out his 
 cigar case. He might as well smoke while he could. 
 
 The crowd watched him, vaguely interested at his 
 lack of interest in what was coming, until a faint for- 
 ward sweep, a half-hearted shout came from behind ; 
 from those upturned faces which could not even see an 
 Englishman lighting his cigar. 
 
 " Not yet ! Stand back ! " said the latter again, as the 
 pressure on the sheep pen grew. And they stood back, 
 all save a miserable-looking, dirt-clad, wild-eyed mendi- 
 cant, who had wormed his way to the front, and now 
 feared to lose it. 
 
 " Lo ! brother," said big Govinda, a Sikh from 
 Patiala, as he thrust him back gently, " have patience 
 awhile. Give the Gods time. There is not water to 
 wash a babe yet." 
 
 Shiv-deo, taller even than Govinda, a Saraswati 
 Br3hmin, if ever there was one, at \\^f^ other side of the 
 pen, twirled his mustache airily, and laughed. " Nay, 
 Govinda," he called, " let the beggar in. He seeks but 
 to drown vermin." 
 
THE POOL OF rMMORTALTTY 
 
 at leads 
 those in 
 his fore- 
 )nnectecl 
 :? Ah! 
 n to find 
 he low- 
 siphon, 
 
 — pour 
 viiracle. 
 
 — God 
 
 he solid 
 of im- 
 
 vn till I 
 
 uare of 
 out his 
 ould. 
 1 at his 
 lint for- 
 behind ; 
 1 see an 
 
 , as the 
 
 >d back, 
 
 mendi- 
 
 nd now 
 
 h from 
 latience 
 ater to 
 
 raswati 
 of the 
 
 *• Nay, 
 ;ks but 
 
 T97 
 
 The rude jest served its turn, after the manner of 
 policemen's jokes all over the world. The crowd close 
 at hand tittered, caught up the cue, amused itself with 
 additions ; and those behind forgot the great question 
 in curiosity. But not for long. 
 
 ''Hard! Hart! Hart! Ham!'' 
 
 The roar of relief rose up tumultuously, the mass of 
 people swayed with that curious sidelong motion of a 
 forward crowd, as, in the clear light, a trickle of water 
 showed through the crevices of the paving stones at the 
 bottom of the tank. 
 
 ** Look out ! " shouted the Englishman ; but remon- 
 strance in words was useless in that storm of sound. 
 So big Govinda promptly snatched two intruders out of 
 his pen, like puppies, by the scruff of their necks, one in 
 each hand ; and Shiv-dco, choosing out the nearest low- 
 caste man unerringly, caught him in his arms like a 
 baby, and literally tossed him on to the heads of the 
 crowd, with a shout which, even in that uproar, could be 
 heard of some in that nearest crush. 
 
 " Brahmins first, washerman ! Thy sort can bathe in 
 the suds of our clothes ! " 
 
 And those who heard, ducked, and when the victim 
 — who was not a washerman — fell amongst them, 
 hustled and silenced him, and nodded to the big man 
 whose claim to dignity was writ so plain upon his 
 face. 
 
 But despite ready wit and sheer strength, one deter- 
 mined fellow would have made good his entrance, and 
 so served as a bell-wether to that overwhelming flock, if 
 a white hand and arm with silver buttons on the cuff — 
 holding a silver-mounted hunting-crop, clubbed savagely 
 short — had not come down — glinting in the first sun- 
 ray like a sword — clear on the bare head as it ducked 
 under the barrier. 
 
 The intruder, a big burly devotee, dropped on his face 
 like a stone; then, to the striker's relief, sat up, and 
 apparently howled ; apparently, because that rhythmic 
 roar smothered all individual sound. 
 
 •V 
 
 (I 
 
 \k 
 
198 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I: J;: 
 
 ''HdrA.f Hdri! Hdrd ! Hdrt!'' 
 
 Suddenly, as it had begun, it stopped ; for that faint 
 inrush of water had stopped also ; stopped, hesitated, 
 then sunk out of sight again with a sort of drowni'^.g 
 gurgle that came as an accompaniment to the only other 
 sound ; the insistent throbbing of the old God-maker's 
 drum in the distance. 
 
 " Not enough pressure ! " murmured the police officer 
 to himself, judging that an attempt had been made to 
 fill the tank in some new way. Then he frowned. There 
 would be pressure enough and to spare among the 
 crowd soon, most likely. What could be done to 
 prevent it } 
 
 " Halt ! by your right — single file ! '* 
 
 The order came, far back, from the widest street, and 
 it was full ten minutus ere Lance Carlyon, with a follow- 
 ing of Sikh pioneers, armed with spades and picks, could 
 edge through the crowd, though it still yielded room to 
 authority without a murmur. He had been on his way 
 with a fatigue party to finish clearing the camp, when 
 the assistant superintendent of police had met him, in 
 the bazaar, and told him he was wanted. 
 
 " Send four of your men to clear the mud from 
 the crevices of the stones," said the police officer, 
 seizing on a possible diversion gladly, '* it will serve 
 to keep the crowd amused till Bering brings his men 
 down." 
 
 As the four stalwart pioneers stepped to their work 
 of making miracles, a stir of expectation ran through 
 those first rows who could see. " Surely," they said to 
 each other, ** if the Masters took the job in hand, the 
 Gods must needs send the water." 
 
 " Of a surety ! " said Shiv-deo, catching the comment. 
 " Do not the Gods always befriend the bold } Do not 
 we, of Harriana, find the sacred river which the devils 
 hid, though we have to dig three-hundred-feet wells to 
 find it .? " 
 
 This allusion to the extrordinarily deep wells dug by 
 the peasantry in the almost rainless tract beneath which, 
 
THE poor. OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 199 
 
 SO the legend goes, the river Saraswati still runs, passed 
 from mouth t" nouth consolingly. 
 
 Yea, if devxi^ hid water, men found it. 
 
 Why not these men ? since nothing was impossible 
 to a miracle. 
 
 The sun was shining broadly now, as if it had been 
 up for hours, and showed, far as the eye could reach 
 down every lane and street and alley, nothing but that 
 sea of upturned faces converging to one centre ; won- 
 derfully still, wonderfully patient. 
 
 " I wish someone would stop that cursed drum," said 
 Lance, suddenly, " it's enough to give anyone the fidgets. 
 I feel myself — " he broke off, and his memory going 
 back to his jesting remark to Erda, his young face 
 clouded. Was it possible he should never see her 
 again ^ Was it possible that the Reverend David was 
 to claim his paradise } He felt savage at the very 
 thought, impatient, full of an almost righteous anger at 
 everything, especially the drum-banger for making such 
 an infernal noise. 
 
 And now, far back as before, an English voice could 
 be heard giving an order. It was to loosen scabbards 
 this time, and the police officer looked up hastily. It 
 meant that, for the first time, the crowd must be hesi- 
 tating in its quick obedience to command ; perhaps 
 because most of the troopers were Mahomedans. 
 
 " I hope they'll get through without using them," said 
 the man responsible for peace and order, " but, steady ! 
 please, in case of a rush. Remember that if we yield 
 more foot-room, someone must fall ; then there will be 
 the devil to pay. At present they are so tight packed 
 they can't." 
 
 That, indeed, was the position. So long as authority 
 could prevent those few yards of clear space about the 
 pool being encroached upon, there was safety. So the 
 barrier of men waited anxiously. 
 
 But no rush came ; the reason of this being made 
 clear when the file of troopers appeared, led by old 
 Pidar Narayan, who had joined the party at the crucial 
 
 'hi 
 
 ' tV\\\\\ 
 
200 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ty 
 
 .ft' „;; : 
 
 moment, and piloted them through the crowd, which 
 gave way to his well-known figure with absolute alac- 
 ritv He turned at the entrance, to hold up his hand 
 lestly fashion. 
 
 •* Patience, my children ! " he said sternly. " Tarry 
 ye the Lord's leisure ! Let Him do what seemeth Him 
 good ! •' 
 
 The idea, familiar to the least of them, brought in- 
 stant assent and a sort of relieved sigh from those 
 who heard it. Here was something they could under- 
 stand. A man, set apart from others by his dress, his 
 life, his invariable assumption of authority, his unques- 
 tioned claim to be mediator between the dim, inaccessi- 
 ble Creator and his creatures, to be interpreter of the 
 hidden Mind. 
 
 But the police officer heaved Jiis sigh of relief over 
 the appearance of more matter. His barrier could now 
 be one of men, standing shoulder to shoulder. 
 
 And such a barrier would soon be needed, since this 
 latest contingent brought discouraging news. The 
 priests were helpless. The secret supply had some- 
 how been tampered with, but where, not even they 
 could tell without help. And though they had sent, 
 long before dawn, to both Am-ma and Gu-gu — the 
 only two men likely to know anything or be able to do 
 anything — neither could be found. 
 
 "And won't be," interrupted Vincent, suddenly re- 
 membering, as he listened, what he had seen the night 
 before. " They are most likely in the plot ; one of 
 them, at any rate, was going up the Hari in a dug-out 
 late last night." 
 
 •* Not Am-ma," put in Lance. " He started before 
 that to go up the Hara and pilot down a raft for the 
 forest officer. I met him as I came back to dinner." 
 
 " Well, he is not get-at-able anyhow, and that's all we 
 have to consider," said the police officer. "Briefly, the 
 miracle is off the bill. Now, how the deuce are we to 
 get the audience to go awny peacefully .'* " 
 
 " Perhaps if I, as a fellow-countryman, and a Brah- 
 
 m 
 cc 
 
 m- 
 
THE POOL OF IMMORTALITY 
 
 201 
 
 J, which 
 Lite alac- 
 lis hand 
 
 ** Tarry 
 L^th Him 
 
 light in- 
 m those 
 I undcr- 
 ress, his 
 unqucs- 
 laccessi- 
 r of the 
 
 icf over 
 uld now 
 
 rice this 
 The 
 some- 
 ;n they 
 id sent, 
 u — the 
 e to do 
 
 2nly re- 
 e night 
 one of 
 dug-out 
 
 before 
 for the 
 inner." 
 s all we 
 fly, the 
 J we to 
 
 L Brah- 
 
 min, were to address them — " began Ramanund, who had 
 come down with Pidar Nardyan, feeling important at 
 being summoned. 
 
 The latter turned to the man, whom he knew had long 
 since rejected the faith of his fathers, and, so to speak, 
 thrown the Almighty overboard to lighten his ship. 
 
 " You cannot argue with that, my son ! " hp said 
 gently, pointing to the sea of patient, yet eager, faces. 
 •* No one of your sort ever has, in all the history of the 
 world. TJiat does not reason. It feels. Show it an- 
 other miracle, and it will worship. Give it a cause, and 
 it will espouse it. Give it a lead, and it will follow ; but 
 words — never!" 
 
 "Well, I hope to God no one will supply it with the 
 wrong lead ! " put in the police officer. " For the rest, 
 we must hold the fort, I suppose. Inspector ! when is 
 the show — the miracle, I mean, — supposed to end.**" 
 
 "Not till sunset, sir," said the man, salaaming. 
 
 "And it's now about six, I suppose. Eleven hours ! " 
 He took out his cigar-case and counted. " Yes ! I'll last 
 through. Inspector ! Close your men in, and let them 
 stand at ease. Captain Dering, if you can spare yours 
 till then, I shall be obliged." 
 
 " Certainly. I left a troop with Roshan Khan, and 
 orders to send word of any disturbance ; and I wired to 
 Dillon in case — " 
 
 Father Ninian shook his head. "There is no fear 
 till this is settled." He pointed to the Pool. 
 
 And he was right. All through the long hot hours 
 the crowd waited. Sometimes the cry, " Hard ! Hdri ! " 
 burst out, to be followed by a faint rush. Sometimes 
 the great mass stood silent, listening to the insistent 
 throbbing of the old God-maker's drum in the distance, 
 but through it all the note was patience. And it was 
 patience, also, in the square enclosure of authority. 
 Sometimes a would-be intruder would be lifted like a 
 puppy, and chucked back to his fellows. Once or 
 twice an English arm would go up, and come down 
 on some more wilful head ; but that was all. 
 
 • il 
 
 t 
 
 I ; 
 
 1 ( 
 
 » I 
 
 M 
 
202 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 .:■ w 
 
 And far away at the Fort the gong chimed the hours 
 regularly up to twelve, and begun at one again. 
 
 liut there was no fuss, no noise. The crowd stood 
 their ground, giving no inch, and authority stood its 
 ground and yielded none, since in that lay safety for all. 
 
 So, with a horrible slowness, the day dragged on, until 
 at last the red sun sank behind the levels beyond the 
 gaol; and the strain was over! 
 
 "I'll take a biscuit in my pocket next time," said the 
 police officer, cheerfully, as, bit by bit, the stones of the 
 courtyard began to show between the golden-shod feet. 
 " Inspector ! send your men to quarters, and let them 
 eat their food." Then he walked over and looked 
 down into the deep empty tank. 
 
 ** It might have been full up," he said. " Wc couldn't 
 have stopped them for a moment if they had had any 
 sort of a lead over. And from what you told the Com- 
 missioner, sir," — he turned to Father Ninian — "I was 
 afraid of one." 
 
 The old priest stood watching the crowd disperse for 
 a moment in silence. 
 
 " So was I," he said, " but I was mistaken, so far. 
 Still, there is danger in the air, I feel it. I hear it." 
 
 And as he spoke, above the hum of the crowd, silent 
 no longer, rose that insistent throbbing of the old God- 
 maker's drum. 
 
 ,!!=';.., 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ■'! ! 
 
 ADRIFT 
 
 r 
 
 i; 
 
 Erda Shepherd stood in her bedroom, under the 
 wood-shingled house at Herrnhut, looking at a heap of 
 white muslin and delicate embroideries which lay upon 
 her bed. 
 
 It was the wedding dress. She had just unpacked 
 it ; partly because she felt de'sceuvn', partly in the hope 
 that the sight of it, ready to be worn so soon, would 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 203 
 
 the hours 
 
 vvd stood 
 stood its 
 ty for all. 
 on, until 
 ;yond the 
 
 ' said the 
 les of the 
 shod feet, 
 let them 
 d looked 
 
 : couldn't 
 
 had any 
 
 the Com- 
 
 — " I was 
 
 perse for 
 
 1, so far. 
 ear it." 
 vd, silent 
 old God- 
 
 ider the 
 I heap of 
 lay upon 
 
 mpacked 
 the hope 
 n, would 
 
 still the vague disquiet of which she was conscious. 
 Yet if anyone had ventured to suggest, when she had 
 said good-by to Lance Carlyon the evening before, — 
 said good-by almost carelessly, by reason of the fervid 
 enthusiasm which absorbed her, — that within twenty- 
 four hours the wisdom of the farewell should .-.cem logi- 
 cally doubtful, she would have been desperately angry. 
 
 But she was too honest to deny that the doubt had 
 come. Come in a moment, wildly, passionately, when 
 they had thwarted her desire of joining in the crusade 
 over the other side of the river along the pilgrims' road. 
 She had meant to go with David, who was to take up 
 his position at a camping-ground some six miles off, 
 and she had fought hard for the privilege, l^ut they 
 had quoted Scripture at her to prove that a wife, or a 
 wife to be, must needs hamper a man more than any 
 other woman, even his sister. David had been kind 
 about it, almost too kind. She flushed a little at the 
 recollection of his words, his look ; for that sort of 
 thing had scarcely come into her calculations. Rut 
 Dr. Campbell had pompously reminded her that her 
 future profession would be wife, caretaker, sympathizer, 
 and general bolsterer-up to a worker. Nor need she 
 think the task small ; it was the noblest one a woman 
 could have. He had gone on to comfort her with 
 instances of such general support from his own life 
 and those of his friends, until, with a flash, that unex- 
 pected questioning had come to the girl's mind. She 
 had asked herself what difference there was in the 
 nobility of being one man's wife or another's — provided 
 the man was worthy and his work in the world good } 
 
 Father Ninian's words, " / can wish no better zvisk for 
 you and for tJie worldy'" had come back to her then, as 
 if in answer to her questioning. 
 
 And, even now, they echoed in her heart. The house 
 was very quiet, very shadowy, for the sun lefc the little 
 oasis of valley set in its circling wilderness of hill, long 
 before a fraction of light faded from the sky above it. 
 She could hear Mrs. Campbell's voice down the little 
 
 Ji' 
 
 »i 
 
 ,1; 
 
 !k 
 
■ I 
 
 
 
 r- Hi" 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 i: !; 
 
 t'lll 
 
 204 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ladder-like stairs, conferring with the cook over the 
 wedding cake, and, in a side-issue, exhorting him to be 
 sure and have the soup hot in case the workers might 
 return exhausted, and require something to eat the 
 moment they arrived. 
 
 Erda sat down on the bed beside the white muslin, 
 and fingered the quaint little cap idly, as she told her- 
 self that such things would be a part of her duties in 
 the future. 
 
 But only a part. Life was no unknown country to 
 this girl, who had spent years in a medical mission. 
 She was no ignorant baby, standing, in a fashion hap- 
 pily past, on the verge of she knew not what. She 
 looked ahead calmly, taking the world as the Creator 
 made it. She thought, without a flush, as good women 
 do, of the children she hoped might come ; and as she 
 thought, she frowned, not from any revolt of her spirit- 
 ual or physical nature, but because, once more, the ques- 
 tion arose : " Was not Lance right } Was not this the 
 essence } Was it not everything to be sure of the in- 
 heritance } " 
 
 She started up at the sound of her aunt calling her, 
 glad of the interruption. 
 
 Had she not better, the good lady suggested, try on 
 the dress, now she was about it, since if there was any- 
 thing amiss, the sooner the tailor set to work to rectify 
 it the better. 
 
 Undoubtedly. Besides, she told herself, the mere 
 putting on of this, the sign of her new profession, 
 would be healthful. It would give her the feeling of 
 being set apart for the life which she had chosen de- 
 liberately, chosen with her eyes open, though, maybe, 
 focusscd too much on'tliat mental companionship. Too 
 much.'' Impossible! Lance was wrong. That was the 
 crowning glory of marriage ; and even if it seemed hard 
 lo have to stand aside from actually fighting the good 
 fight, the victory would be hers — hers almost more than 
 her husbantl's, since the effort would be greater, the 
 work more against the grain. 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 205 
 
 over the 
 
 im to be 
 
 rs might 
 
 eat the 
 
 1 muslin, 
 told her- 
 duties in 
 
 untry to 
 
 mission. 
 
 lion hap- 
 
 at. She 
 
 Creator 
 
 d women 
 
 d as she 
 
 er spirit- 
 
 the ques- 
 
 this the 
 
 f the in- 
 
 ling her, 
 
 :1, try on 
 was any- 
 rectify 
 
 he mere 
 ofession, 
 deling of 
 osen de- 
 , maybe, 
 ip. Too 
 u was the 
 led hard 
 the good 
 ore than 
 iter, the 
 
 Yes, she would try on the dress ; and if it did not 
 fit perfectly, what matter ? 
 
 Was anything in the world perfect ? Yet it should 
 be as perfect as she could compass ; even the little 
 cap should not lack its bunch of orange blossoms ! As 
 she told herself this she was for the time womanhood 
 incarnate; womanhood playing, with dainty little tender- 
 nesses and conceits, about the abyss for which it is 
 responsible. So, with the smile of an angel, she passed 
 into the garden, the old militant feeling at her heart. 
 Her feet were on the golden stairs. She was going to 
 regain the lost Paradise hand in hand with one of those 
 whom she had driven from it. They were going to for- 
 get all the consequences of that mistake. They were 
 going to be — what .-*... 
 
 The vague confusion did not prevent her feeling 
 that she was absolutely certain she was on the right 
 path. Indeed, the only regret of which she was con- 
 scious was one that she was not on the other side of 
 the river, on the pilgrims' road, with the rest of the 
 mission. 
 
 She stood looking over to the frowning cliffs from the 
 little wooden landing-stage, built out at the bottom of 
 the garden into the wide shallows of the river, which 
 here showed scarcely a streak or dimple of current. She 
 could see the mission boat lying moored on the other 
 side, against the fighters' return. 
 
 Yet the very idea of fight seemed impossible, she 
 thought, in that utter peacefulness and stillness. The 
 rim of dark hills circled the jewel of the sun-bright sky 
 tenderly, as if it sought to keep in the heavy, sweet 
 perfume of the orange blossoms which starred every 
 tree in the wide, fruitful garden. They were famous 
 opanges, those in the Herrnhut garden ; grafts brought 
 by a missionary from Malta. Mrs. Campbell, notable 
 woman as she was, made a steady income for good 
 works out of the sale of the great red-skinned, red- 
 hearted fruit, and^rided herself in keeping them later 
 on her trees than anyone in India. Indeed, in the 
 
 1'- 
 
 f ' 
 
 l.'i:'' 
 
<h\'\ 
 
 % 
 
 
 |! 
 
 206 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 shadier, colder alleys some were still hanging side by 
 side with the new blossoms. A sort of example to these 
 novices, showing them what their real work in the world 
 ought to be ! Erda, smiling at her own conceit, stroked 
 one of the warm yet stainless petals in the bunch she 
 held as if it were a sentient thing. Perhaps it was. 
 Who knows ! 
 
 As she turned to go back, warned by a softening of 
 the sky that the time was later than she thought, some- 
 thing showed rounding the smooth, silver bend of the 
 river above ; and she paused, shading her eyes with her 
 hand, to see what it was. 
 
 A raft. The first of the rafts of wood which at cer- 
 tain seasons were floated down the river to Eshwara. 
 Am-ma's raft, most likely, which he had told her he had 
 to pilot. 
 
 Yes ! There he was on the quaint contrivance which 
 the river folk used for journeys down stream. A com- 
 mon string bed, no more, no less, supported between 
 inflated bladders of skin. The sight of it gave her a 
 pang to think that she would never more go bobbing, 
 sidling, dipping, racing on one of them, as the mission 
 folk always did when they wanted to stay the last possi- 
 ble minute of holiday at Herrnhut, and get back to Esh- 
 wara as quickly as they could. For it took half the time 
 of the winding road, when the river, as now, was quiet 
 and manageable. And Am-ma was the most dexterous 
 manager of the singular craft. There he was, paddling 
 for dear life ; now leaping to his great pile of timber, 
 steering it with his paddle round a bend, then back to 
 his string bed with the tow rope, to haul the rudderless 
 mass to a straight line again. 
 
 If she had time, she thought, she would have asked 
 him to take her, just once more, as far as the ferry, two 
 miles below. Then she might have walked back through 
 the fields. She had often taken the pleasant little trip 
 with Am-ma. There was no danger so far ; but after 
 that, when the river began to slip and slide, even he had 
 sometimes to cut a raft adrift and trust to catching it 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 207 
 
 again in smoother water ; since it was not pleasant to 
 have such a crushing neighbour in the eddies and swirls 
 of a lasher. 
 
 As she stood watching him, she saw him pause, look- 
 ing towards her, then leap from the raft and come pad- 
 dling down stream. He had evidently seen her waiting 
 on the landing-stage, and thought she wanted him ; so 
 she shook her head and began to walk back to the 
 house. As she did so an orange caught her eye under 
 a tree, whence it had fallen from sheer red-gold ripeness, 
 and, knowing how Mrs. Campbell mourned a single loss, 
 she gathered it up and took it with her. 
 
 Back in her ow room, she began to pin her buiich 
 of blossoms in her cap hurriedly, for she had lingered 
 longer in the garden than she had intended, and there 
 was a chance, only a chance, that those much to be en- 
 vied Church-militants might return and claim her atten- 
 tion. 
 
 Still, hurried as she was, vshe knelt down beside the 
 bed for a moment or two, and, with her clasped hands 
 laid almost caressingly among the soft muslin, prayed 
 that she might wear this symbol of her entry into a new 
 profession worthily. 
 
 So, scarcely looking at herself in the glass which, 
 indeed, was too small to show her more than a rather 
 pale face smiling under a quaint little cap, she dressed 
 hastily. Her aunt would be able to tell her if there was 
 anything wrong in the lighter rooms below ; here, under 
 the roof, it was already a little dark. Then catching up 
 the orange, she ran downstairs, wondering if the bridal 
 blossoms always smelt so overpoweringly strong, and 
 thinking that, if it was so, they must make the trying 
 ceremony still more trying to one who disliked to have 
 strong scents about them, as she did. 
 
 Her aunt was not to be seen in the dining room, so 
 Erda parted the heavy curtains which, in Indian fashion, 
 divided it from the drawing-room, and looked in to see 
 if she were there. 
 
 It was at all times a dark room, especially in late 
 
 r i 
 
 I'' 
 
 ,.! 
 
 M 
 
 ,' f'l 
 
m 
 
 liihi 
 
 :i;:|l! 
 
 i I 
 
 
 208 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 afternoon, as now; but the light from behind her sent a 
 shaft straight to the pier glass which stood — the joy of 
 Mrs. Campbell's heart — just opposite the curtains; so 
 making — as the good lady used fondly to say — the 
 room look much larger than it really was to those 
 entering it. 
 
 But what the girl saw in it to-day was no illusory en- 
 largement of actualities, no idealization of fact. It was 
 something real, something not to be explained away, 
 exaggerated, or minimized. It was a woman, tall, 
 slender, robed in white ; a woman with red-gold hair, 
 edged by the light behind her; a woman with a red-gold 
 apple in her hand. 
 
 She stood arrested before herself ; helpless before the 
 memory of a voice — 
 
 " All straight folds — the sunshine on your hair, and 
 a red-gold apple in your hand — the World's Desire!" 
 
 And she had refused him hL. She stood for a second, 
 not thinking at all ; simply, with a rush, feeling the 
 truth, feeling herself. 
 
 Then with a queer little cry which might have been 
 his name had it been articulate, she broke adrift. Broke, 
 for the time, from all moorings, and possessed with but the 
 one idea that she could not do one thing, that she vtust 
 do another, she turned to the garden, and, — the red-gold 
 fruit still in her hand, — hurried breathlessly through 
 the waning light, through the dead-sweet perfume of 
 the blossoms, till she found herself, she knew not why 
 — save that she must have air, have space — upon the 
 edge of the river. 
 
 There was something now swaying idly against the 
 landing-stage ; a rude craft buoyed up by air ! And 
 there was a rude sort of man in it, — comprehending, 
 yet uncomprehending, — primitive, simple, expectant. 
 '' Huzoor I '' he said, with broad smiles and outstretched 
 hand. " I have been waiting the Htisoor'i> pleasure. 
 The Presence will go whither ? " 
 
 Whither > 
 
 Even in her excitement the quaint coincidence struck 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 209 
 
 her as absurd, and yet it seemed to sweep her further 
 still from her moorings. 
 
 Whither ? 
 
 She gave that queer little cry again, and this time it 
 was ** Lance ! Lance ! " 
 
 "Whither did the W\%^-sahiba say?" asked Am-ma 
 gravely. 
 
 The cry turned to a strange laugh. "To Eshwara — 
 where else does the river go } — where else } " 
 
 The strange, frail boat was sidling against the landing- 
 stage in the pulse of the river ; her stranger, frailer self 
 was adrift on the greater river of life. And a hand, 
 heedless, seeing nothing strange in either, careless of 
 all the fine-drawn niceties of culture, had hold of 
 hers. 
 
 "So, straight to the centre, Huzoor ! I have placed 
 the seat correctly. That is right ! The ^\'s>^-saJiiba 
 recollects the old rules ; we shall be in Eshwara before 
 dawn ! " 
 
 She sat down mechanically, feeling only that she was 
 adrift — adrift on the river that went to Eshwara — 
 where else.-* — and that she was glad ; glad because she 
 could not stay, because she could not face — 
 
 And then the thought came of facing something else 
 — his glad delight when she came floating down the 
 river — not dead, like the Lily Maid to Lancelot — but 
 alive — a woman witl a red-gold apple in her hand — 
 
 She sat staring at what she held, as if hypnotized by 
 its colour, absolutely unconscious of anything else till 
 Am-ma's voice came stolidly. 
 
 "We must pick up the raft first, Huzoor. This slave 
 let it drift while he waited for the Miss ; but we shall 
 find it at the ferry." 
 
 At the ferry ! The familiar idea startled her from 
 dreams to the reality. 
 
 How came she there } What had she done .•* What 
 did this mean } A flush of intolerable shame swept to 
 her face ; she rose to escape. But Am-ma's warning 
 hand was on hers in an instant ; that hand, so heedless 
 
 ■i*'i 
 
 rl 
 
 ' 1 
 
 ^1 
 
 i \v 
 
I« 
 
 210 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 Hi 
 
 !i 
 
 of so many limitations, so certain here that there was 
 no escape from these limitations. 
 
 "The M.\?>s-sahiba forgets," he said deferentially. 
 ** When one is in the stream there is no change possi- 
 ble ; but if the place is not right we can alter it at the 
 ferry." 
 
 She sat down again, telling herself this was true. She 
 could alter it at the ferry. She could walk home through 
 the fields. No one need know (the quaint craft, rocking 
 itself back to balance, made her feel giddy), her dress 
 was only muslin, she could remove the cap ; if necessary, 
 borrow a shawl from the bible-woman near the ferry, 
 saying she had not thought it would be so chilly. 
 
 She buried her face in both her hands in a sort of 
 despairing revolt at the duplicity, so, with the red-gold 
 fruit in her lap, sat trying to think. But she could not. 
 The scent of the orange blossoms seemed to cloud her 
 senses. So she raised her face again, and stared at the 
 river. Why had she done this } Why had she put this 
 thing, that she must always conceal, into her life } 
 There would always, now, be something she could not 
 say straight out ; and yet if she lived to be a hundred 
 the memory of it would never fade ; it would be as fresh 
 as it was now when she died, with David's hand in hers ! 
 
 The intolerable humiliation of it stung deep ; the 
 instinct to escape rose fiercely. 
 
 " Be quick ! " she cried, seeing Am-ma idle, letting 
 the current do the work. " I want to get there as 
 soon as possible. I must, or something worse may 
 happen. There isn't a moment to spare ! " 
 
 Am-ma bent towards her from his seat astride a skin 
 air-bag. ** Did they kill anyone .-* " he asked, in sudden 
 interest. " Did the prisoners escape as it was arranged .'* 
 And was it Carlone-.yrt'///^ they killed.-' — they swore it 
 should be he, because he laughed at the miracle." 
 
 "The prisoners ! — C7ix\o\\c-sahib — killed ! " she 
 echoed stupidly. Then with a great throb of the heart 
 she realized that here might be something of more im- 
 portance than her self-humiliation. Had Father Ninian 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 21 I 
 
 lere was 
 
 been right ? Had there really been some conspiracy 
 afoot, and had Am-ma heard ? 
 
 "I have had no news from Eshwara, Am-ma," she 
 said boldly, ** what is this about prisoners escaping, and 
 the sahib-logite being killed ? Who was going to do 
 that ? " 
 
 Am-ma looked crestfallen. " I thought the Huzoor 
 had heard — that tliat was why she was going. It is 
 nothing. Idle talk. It is always talk. And the 
 Huzoors have the Dce-puk-rdg. They must still be 
 kings." 
 
 "Am-ma," she interrupted sternly, "you must tell 
 me about this. If you do not, I will take my hand off 
 your son's head — I will never — " 
 
 He almost dropped his paddle in absolute terror. 
 ''Huzoor !'' he said helplessly, "it is talk, idle talk. 
 It is always so. All day long, and all night long in 
 the bazaars, and the Masters have the Dcv-puk-rag. 
 There is no fear ; but this slave will tell." 
 
 They were almost opposite the ferry before he had 
 finished his tale, and she had grasped the whole tissue 
 of trivialities which yet went to make up so formidable 
 a possibility. 
 
 The discontent and dread regarding the canal, the 
 strange lights, the deaths in gaol, the return of the 
 cursed corpse, Gopi — the ticket-of-leave man's — talk of 
 revenge if the cleansing water should fail. 
 
 Much of this was new to her, but it hung together 
 with what she already knew ; and yet it seemed incredi- 
 ble ! What could be the object } What could they 
 expect to do } Here Am-ma had smiled inscrutably, 
 and said the Miss did not know bazaar talk. Every- 
 thing was possible to it. Had they not even spoken of 
 making a new Nawab out of Roshan Khan, the risaldarf 
 indeed, had not the jetncdardX the palace already treated 
 him as one .-* 
 
 And the Pool of Immortality } Had it risen or not } 
 Am-ma could not say. They had asked him with bribes 
 and threats to do the job — that was only the priest's 
 
 
 k 
 
m 
 
 'Hi 
 
 f.'l 
 
 H 
 ill 
 
 
 212 
 
 77/F HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 revenge, but it would serve other purposes too — but he 
 had refused, partly because he had to come away, and 
 partly because he was the servant of the Light-bring- 
 ers. As to when the prisoners were to escape he could 
 not say. To-day, perhaps to-morrow, most likely never ; 
 unless something really happened. It was talk. 
 The Miss need have no fear. The Huzoors, having the 
 Dee-puk-rdg, must needs be safe, and CdiX\oi\Q-sahib was 
 a real hero ; none braver, none stronger. 
 
 That decided her. She had been counting costs as 
 she listened. An hour, say, back to Herrnhut. Even 
 if anyone were there, which was uncertain, half an hour 
 at least to start a messenger. Then the boat might be 
 at the other side of the river Then all those miles, on 
 a rough road at night ! 
 
 •*\Vhen shall we get to Eshwara } " she asked, 
 
 " At the turn of the night and day if the river is kind," 
 said Am-ma, but he looked doubtfully into a copper tint 
 that remained in the sky, though the sun must have set 
 behind the mountains. It had a curious effect, that cop- 
 per-coloured dome above the rim of almost black hills, 
 with the river, dark, mysterious, already beginning to 
 slide towards the narrowing ravine. It did not strike 
 her that she herself, adrift on that river in what was to 
 be her wedding dress, with prehistoric, aboriginal Am-ma 
 as pilot to her and a lumber raft, would have had a siili 
 more curious effect to a spectator's eyes. But there 
 were none, and it was already almost dark. 
 
 " Am-ma," she said, " I will give you fifty rupees, and 
 keep my hand on the son's head, if you will leave the 
 raft here, and take me as quick as you can to Eshwara — 
 to the little steps below the fort — fifty whole rupees ! ** 
 
 He shook his head and grinned, partly at his own 
 superlative honesty. " We should not go so fast, Husoor, 
 now the slide is near," he said; "for, see you, the raft 
 is the wood-sa/iid's new shape. It is a good shape ; it 
 came down the rapids above the valley like a boat, faster 
 than t/ns, when the paddle cannot be used. It will take 
 us with it. I will fasten t/iis behind, and steer. Then 
 
 M'r. I 
 
ADRIFT 
 
 213 
 
 lo — but he 
 away, and 
 ight-brin<^- 
 e he could 
 ely never ; 
 was talk, 
 laving the 
 -sahib was 
 
 g costs as 
 
 ut. iLven 
 
 If an hour 
 
 might be 
 
 miles, on 
 
 ed. 
 
 r is kind," 
 3pper tint 
 : have set 
 , that cop- 
 ack hills, 
 inning to 
 lot strike 
 at was to 
 il Am-ma 
 ad a siiii 
 Jut there 
 
 pees, and 
 eave the 
 hwara — 
 'upees ! "* 
 his own 
 , Hiizoor^ 
 the raft 
 hape ; it 
 It, faster 
 will take 
 . Then 
 
 in the slacker water when the paddle is possible, we will 
 leave it ; if the Wx^'^-sahiba is in a hurry. But there 
 is none. The Hiiaooj's are Light-bringers." He had 
 already paddled alongside the raft, — a boat-shaped mass 
 of huge logs rising towards the back — and, leaping to it, 
 came back, after a moment, with the tow-rope. 
 
 " It shall do the work," he said, with another grin, as 
 he fastened the air-buoyed bed to a ring placed 'for the 
 purpose in one of the logs. Then he clucked emphati- 
 cally. "Lo! who would grudge men's brains to the 
 Masters when they are clever as the Gods themselves } 
 The Miss will see how fast this goes. We shall be at 
 Eshwara before the night turns to day." 
 
 Something in his tone warned her that the recurrence 
 of the phrase was not pure chance. 
 
 " That is when the prisoners were to escape } " she 
 said quickly. 
 
 He did not affirm or deny it. " So many things hap- 
 pen in the fight of Dawn," he said affably. That was 
 all; but she thought rapidly. The rising, or whatever the 
 conspiracy aimed at, could scarcely have happened just 
 after they left Eshwara the night before. In that case 
 the news must have followed them on the road. There- 
 fore, if it was to happen at all, if this were not all talk — 
 and Father Ninian's words came to make her doubt its 
 being so — it would happen in a few hours. So she 
 must be there in time to give warning. 
 
 As she thought this, a sudden strain at the tow-rope, 
 a quick dip of the boat-shaped prow of the raft, a louder 
 swish of the water as it curved out from its rising stern, 
 told her she was adrift, indeed, on the way to Eshwara ! 
 It seemed almost more incredible than what had gone 
 before. But there was nothing to be ashamed of here. 
 It was the only possible thing to do under the circum- 
 stances. Her journey might prove unnecessary, but it 
 might not ; and supposing anything should really happen 
 — to — to anybody — she would never be able to forgive 
 herself if, knowing this chance of danger, she had not 
 done her best to avert it. 
 
 < 1 .'I 
 
 It 
 
 il 
 
 i:!,!!k, 
 
\\ n 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 214 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 JULIET 
 
 The copper-coloured glow, into which weather-wise 
 Am-ma had looked, distrustfully, as it domed the little 
 valley set in its rim of hills, had replaced that of sunset 
 in Eshwara also, and Pidar Narayan's eyes, weather-wise 
 as the fisherman's, looked at it as doubtfully, as he 
 walked home with Lance and Vincent Bering when the 
 long strain at the Pool of Immortality was over. 
 
 " If it were not so early in the year, I should predict 
 a dust-storm — a real electrical dust-storm," he said. 
 
 Lance, whose hands were full of cut-paper Gods — for 
 in obedience to a sudden impulse, he had stopped on his 
 way through the crowd to buy up the old Brahmin's 
 whole stock in trade, and give him an extra eight annas 
 to go away and not drum any more — looked up also, 
 and filled his broad chest with a great breath. '* Per- 
 haps that is it. I've felt choking all day — horrid ! " 
 
 Vincent Bering laughed. " I don't choke — I tingle ; 
 and it is rather jolly. Yes, sir ; there is a lot of elec- 
 tricity in the air, and I shouldn't wonder if we had a 
 regular black snorter. Glad it didn't come in the middle 
 of the miracle * biz ', for, as a general smasher-up of 
 ordinary experiences, commend me to a real electrical 
 dust-storm ! It seems to attract the earth, earthy, in 
 everything. In fact, if there is such a thing as the 
 Bevil, and he ever gets the upper hand, it is then — " 
 
 Father Ninian turned to him quickly, and then to the 
 crowd, — through which they were still cleaving that 
 curiously acquiescent way which white faces still cleave 
 through dark ones — **Then I trust, my son," he said 
 gently, "that for your sake and theirs the storm may 
 not come." 
 
 "Or that there isn't a Satanic majesty!" retorted 
 Captain Bering, cynically. "That, sir, is the easiest way 
 out of the difficulty." 
 
JULIET 
 
 215 
 
 Lance had looked round on the crowd also. 
 
 Well! 
 
 ather-wise 
 
 the little 
 
 of sunset 
 
 ather-wise 
 
 [ly, as he 
 
 when the 
 
 ;r. 
 
 Id predict 
 J said, 
 rods — for 
 3ed on his 
 Brahmin's 
 2jht annas 
 1 up also, 
 1. " Per- 
 rid ! " 
 - 1 tingle; 
 t of elec- 
 we had a 
 be middle 
 ler-up of 
 electrical 
 :arthy, in 
 g as the 
 len — " 
 en to the 
 'ing that 
 ill cleave 
 he said 
 ^rm may 
 
 retorted 
 siest way 
 
 if there is," he said, "and I had to paint him, I'd take 
 
 that 
 
 man s lace as my model for Lucifer." He pointed 
 to a gosain who was forming the centre of a group of 
 gossipers round a syrup-seller's shop, and added — for he 
 knew his Milton as well as his Shakespeare — " The 
 superior fiend who gives not Heav n for lost ! " 
 
 "Looks a bad lot, I admit," remarked Vincent, care- 
 lessly. " Have an idea I've seen him before ; in gaol, 
 I believe. Yes ! I'm sure of it. He is the fellow Dillon 
 told me was going to get his ticket-of-loave for good 
 conduct. He looks scoundrel enough for that ! But 
 really, sir — " he turned to Father Ninian again — "I 
 think we may count on their behaviour now." He in- 
 dicated the crowd. " If there was going to be a row 
 it would have come off before this ; now they will settle 
 down, you'll see, and go on to the next camping-ground 
 to-morrow morning as if nothing had gone wrong. They 
 are such creatures of habit ; you could see that from 
 their sticking on in expectation of that footling old 
 miracle all day ! " 
 
 Father Ninian, in that curiously irrelevant way he had, 
 put on the ^o\A pince-nez which always dangled over his 
 black soutane, and looked round him again. "They 
 will settle down," he said quietly, " if nothing new 
 crops up to give them a lead into new ways. That is 
 always the danger ; and a very small thing does it, 
 sometimes, in India." 
 
 They had reached the courtyard which lay between 
 the palace and the Fort, and with a wave of his hand in 
 farewell, he passed along the wall to the former, while 
 the others, striking across the raised union-jack of paths, 
 made for the latter. The yard was crammed with 
 pilgrims on their way to bathe on the river steps. 
 
 "Who the deuce are those fellows.-^" said Vincent, 
 angrily, as half a dozen figures slipped out through the 
 door in the bastion, as they approached, and mixing 
 with the crowd, got lost in it, while the door was closed 
 behind them by some unseen hand. " I'll talk to Roshan 
 
 f. if 
 
 '. 'f 
 
 iillHj' 
 
2l6 
 
 rirE HOSTS of the lord 
 
 m 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
 k 
 
 t 
 
 ;f 
 
 1 
 
 
 i 
 
 < ■ , 
 
 
 iP 
 
 
 1 
 
 f ■ 
 
 about that. He was complaining only this morning 
 that the men were breaking: out of barracks. What 
 else can he expect if he doesn't look out. By Jove ! I'll 
 teach 'cm ! " 
 
 His first words, indeed, as he entered the outer 
 courtyard of the Fort, was to order a sentry down to 
 close the doors against all comers without a written 
 pass from him, and as he went by the guard-house he 
 gav* rather a sharp reprimand to Roshan Khan, who 
 happened to be outside, for not having kept his eyes 
 open while in charge of the T'ort during his absence. 
 No one was in future to use the small door ; the key 
 was to be brought to him, and all passes were to be 
 stopped for that night. 
 
 " Roshan looks in a demon bad temper. I wonder 
 what's up } " remarked Lance, casually, as he passed on 
 through a wicket in the massive closed gates to the 
 inner courtyard, where the officers* quarters lay, hugging 
 the river wall. It was quite a citadel, a distinct fortifi- 
 cation of itself, with no entrance or exit except through 
 the outer yard, or by the little flight of steps leading 
 down to the river, at the foot of which Lance moored his 
 canoe. 
 
 " He has been sulky as a bear with me these last few 
 dt, '"/' replied Captain Bering, with a contemptuous 
 Synile. " I believe the old Colonel was right after all, and 
 coming here has put wind in his head. I shall have 
 to teach Mr. Roshan that, good man as he is, he is only 
 a risaldavy before long." 
 
 " Poor devil," said Lance under his breath. " I'm 
 always a bit sorry for Roshan. He would be a fine 
 fellow — if — if he wasn't so — so civilized." 
 
 ** Civilized," echoed Vincent, with a laugh. "You 
 haven't seen him fight. I have. Talk of devils ; he has 
 got one in him, if you like ! " 
 
 He certainly had at that moment, when, having gone 
 straight to his quarters after Vincent's reprimand, he 
 found himself alone, and free to show his feelings. 
 
 And yet, had he been calm, he could scarcely have 
 
'> morning 
 
 s. What 
 
 Jove! I'll 
 
 the outer 
 / down to 
 a written 
 1-house he 
 ^han, who 
 his eyes 
 absence, 
 the key 
 ere to be 
 
 I wonder 
 passed on 
 ;s to the 
 hugging 
 ict fortifi- 
 t through 
 IS leading 
 loored his 
 
 e last few 
 emptuous 
 ^r all, and 
 hall have 
 le is only 
 
 h. "I'm 
 be a fine 
 
 " You 
 ; ; he has 
 
 ing gone 
 nand, he 
 
 ely have 
 
 JULIET 
 
 217 
 
 told wherein the grievance lay which for the moment 
 clamoured for — no — not redress — revenge. 
 
 It was not the first time that he had had to igr ^ 
 hints, innuendoes, suggestions of Heaven knows \. 
 impossible intrigues, as he had had that very afternco . 
 It was not the first time that, in his position as inter- 
 mediary between the ignorance of the native soldier 
 and the ignorance of the English officer, he had had to 
 * ca cann}\ so as not to alienate the confidence of either. 
 Indeed, the consciousness of the necessity for this, by 
 enhancing the value of his services, had always been a 
 pride to him hitherto. And these particular intrigues 
 were so childish ; especially if — he paused in his angry 
 pacing of the room, and smiled complacently. Why 
 should he give a thought to an impossible plan, when a 
 possible one lay ready to his hand ? If he married 
 Laila, the land, almost the title, would be his of right. 
 It would be easy anyhow to regain. Then with a fresh 
 frown, he remembered Vincent's order. That would 
 upset his plans. He had meant to slip out by the 
 bastion gate just before — say an hour before — dawn, 
 and cross over to the palace. Akbar Khan had ar- 
 ranged to be there to let him into the garden. Now 
 he must make other arrangements. He must find the 
 old eunuch, change the hour and the place ; since 
 nothing — no! not all the tyranny in the world — 
 should prevent his carrying out his intention of seeing 
 his cousin, and claiming her as his — his by right. So 
 he must settle this at once ; settle it before there was 
 any chance, he told himself bitterly, of his superior 
 officer coming out of the mess — where no doubt he was 
 guzzling swine's flesh and bibbing wine — (that faint 
 amaze at the presence in his own mind of such anti- 
 quated half-forgotten ideas assailed him again at this 
 point) to encroach further on his liberty, his privileges. 
 
 He had to pass the troopers' lines on his way to the 
 main gate, and the quick salaams, the ready smiles 
 given him by the men, as they lounged and smoked 
 after their long day on duty, soothed his pride. 
 
 t I 
 
 J 
 
 ' I 
 
 li 
 
 !, 'n 
 
il 
 
 2l8 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ■i; s 
 
 The Captain had certainly said they had behaved well 
 — kindly, and discreetly ; but whose merit was that ? 
 The Englishman's who gave the word of command, or 
 his, who had drilled them to obedience, who lived with 
 them day and night ? Without such as he, a native 
 regiment could not be managed, if he chose to give 
 the word. He would not, of course, but if he 
 chose — 
 
 He set his teeth as he walked out of the Fort, and 
 met at its very gate that surging tide of patient, eager 
 faces drifting on, and back again, aimlessly. 
 
 He need not, as a matter of fact, have feared any 
 further interference from Vincent During, for the latter, 
 being very tired after the long day in tiie sun, and hav- 
 ing reason to know that part of the night time, at any 
 rate, which is usually given to sleep would be employed 
 in something better, had, after staving off hunger with 
 what the cook would produce at a moment's notice, and 
 postponing the dinner hor.r, gone to sleep deliberately, 
 advising Lance to do the same. 
 
 But the latter had, rather to his own surprise, found 
 this impossible ; not even over a cigar in the balcony 
 above the sliding, rushing river, the sound of which was 
 as a rule sleep-compelling, would sleep come ; not even 
 in the cool darkness which was settling on Eshwara, 
 despite the curious hint of glow lingering in the sky. 
 
 The air was too electrical, he decided. And then — 
 Erda ! He had slept the night before, after she had 
 said good-by so carelessly, without realizing that the 
 good-by was for ever. And he had not had time to 
 think all day. But now, at rest in the cool darkness, 
 looking from his lounge chair down the river to that 
 other balcony, he did realize it. For ever ! Yes ! that 
 regret was in his life for ever. And he was so young. 
 Only twenty-five. 
 
 Why had this come to him } 
 
 Erda ! Erda, — his heart's desire. 
 
 He sat there voiceless, sucking mechanically at a 
 cigar, long since gone out ; but that was as much the 
 
JULIET 
 
 219 
 
 haved well 
 was that ? 
 Timand, or 
 lived with 
 , a native 
 se to give 
 DUt if he 
 
 Fort, and 
 ient, eager 
 
 Feared any 
 the latter, 
 1, and hav- 
 me, at any 
 ! employed 
 Linger with 
 lotice, and 
 ^liberately, 
 
 rise, found 
 le balcony 
 which was 
 ; not even 
 1 Eshwara, 
 :he sky. 
 nd then — 
 sr she had 
 I that the 
 ad time to 
 1 darkness, 
 ^er to that 
 Yes! that 
 so young. 
 
 ically at a 
 \ much the 
 
 
 cry at his heart as if he had allowed himself a fine 
 frenzy of despair in older fashion. 
 
 And he imagined her as he had seen her — this way, 
 that way, every way, in an unending torture of visions — 
 until he exhausted reality, and fancy showed her to him 
 in her wedding dress. And then he felt as if he could 
 kill the Reverend David Campbell without shame or 
 fear. He was vaguely ashamed of the lack of shame, 
 however, especially when his fancy led him into endless 
 mishaps which might befall a man, especially a mission- 
 ary, before his wedding day. 
 
 " There they ate a viissionary — " 
 
 Yes, sometimes ; but there was not much time left 
 for that sort of end — 
 
 What a brute he was, when the only thing that mat- 
 tered was that she should be happy and content. 
 
 But would she be so } 
 
 It went on and on and on, the controversy between 
 himself and that other self, so that he felt worn, and 
 harassed, and dirty, and altogether undesirable, when 
 Vincent, about nine o'clock, reappeared, dapper and 
 scented as usual, in his mess kit, and expressed surprise 
 at finding his companion still undressed. He was hun- 
 gry as a hunter, he said ; besides he wanted to have a 
 decent interval between dinner and turning in. And 
 that must be early, for he had just heard from the police 
 authorities that though everything was quiet for the 
 night, absolutely quiet, they thought it would be safer 
 to have the Pool guarded again at dawn, in case of acci- 
 dents ; since none of the pilgrims, though apparently 
 quite resigned, had as yet gone on. 
 
 " They never do till the next day ; Pidar Nardyan told 
 me so," commented Lance, crossly. ** Why should they 
 rake us up at such an unearthly hour.^ Why can't they 
 let the people have a row if they want one .^ I'd like 
 it ; give a fellow something to do in this beastly hole." 
 
 He went off to dress moodily, wishing savage wishes, 
 so adding, perhaps, to that electricity in the air. And 
 Vincent gave it his quota of desire also, in his reckless 
 
 '1 
 
 
f^i 
 
 • is 
 
 liljl' 
 
 Ml. 
 
 iif .: 
 
 1 11 
 
 220 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 determination to regain Paradise, as it was lost, through 
 a woman. And that play of Romeo and Juliet in the 
 scented garden — Juliet, whose bounty was "as bound- 
 less as the sea " — was a bit of pure paradise to him. He 
 had never, he thought, been in love before. He had 
 never known what love was. Those other loves of his 
 had been mean, ungenerous, calculating. 
 
 So he was at his best, his brightest, during dinner. 
 Lance, on the contrary, was at his worst, his dullest ; 
 and Vincent made this his excuse for going to his room 
 betimes. He was not due at the palace till twelve, but 
 he was anxious to ensure the coast being clear, and 
 Lance seemed just in the mood when a fellow sits up 
 sulkily, out of pure cussedness, and drinks whiskey-and- 
 water if he can find a companion on whom to vent his 
 cavillings. 
 
 In truth Lance would have liked to do so. He wanted 
 to feel miserable ; but after Vincent had gone, and he 
 was left alone in the balcony, sle^ began to assert 
 itself. He found even his despair becoming dreamy, 
 and being obstinate, tried to fight against the fact. The 
 result being that he finally fell asleep in his lounge 
 chair with a soundness and unconsciousness usually re- 
 served for bed. Fell asleep, and promptly relaxed into 
 content with happy dreams of Erda's return to him ; 
 for his, left to itself, was a healthy soul. 
 
 And so were the vast majority of those which, through 
 patient yet eager eyes, were looking into the scarce-lit 
 darkness of the streets, as the pilgrims, crowded into an 
 almost solid mass, seemed to slide with a slow, almost 
 unseen movement, through them. They were v/aiting 
 for the dawn. If nothing new came before then, they 
 would pass on towards the ' Cradle of the Gods.' So, 
 scarcely seen, restless yet restful, their feet on the next 
 rung of the golden stains, they waited. 
 
 And overhead the young moon had risen with a 
 copper-coloured edge to its crescent of light. For the 
 glow was still in the sky, and the troopers in the Fort, 
 resting, after their long day, in Indian fashion by sprawl- 
 
JULIET 
 
 221 
 
 ing on their beds and gossiping, had dragged these 
 beds into the open and discarded most of their clothing, 
 since the night was strangely still and warm. So even 
 the wonder what had become of the risahiar-saJiib was 
 languid. 
 
 For Roshan Khan had not returned. And yet, as he 
 sat in a quiet courtyard of the city, with closed doors, 
 realizing how late it was growing, he had no fear of 
 further reprimand On the contrary, his pulses were 
 bounding with the certainty that he would gain praise. 
 And there was something beyond this mere desire for 
 personal advantage in the keen-witted diplomacy with 
 which he listened, with which he suo^::Cocec!, with which 
 he led the talkers on to tell what it was of the utmost 
 importance that he should know, not so much to himself, 
 as to the Government he served. For his vague dis- 
 content had vanished, his well-reasoned, well-founded 
 loyalty returned at this, the first hint at anything be- 
 yond the wild, aimless intrigue with which every Indian 
 bazaar teems. But here, in this definite plan, by the 
 collaboration of his troopers, of liberating fifteen hun- 
 dred scoundrels, — or, at least, desperadoes, — of aping 
 the stroke of action which made the great mutiny of 
 '57 possible, was something tangible. Something which, 
 when known to the uttermost, must be told without 
 delay to his superior officer. A vast pride swept 
 through him, as, when the gongs were striking one, — 
 short, yet with lingering vibration in the dull, still air, 
 — he made his way, fast as he could, back to the Fort. 
 Without him, and such as he, faithful despite limita- 
 tions, what would the Masters know } 
 
 Hours before, as he went out, he had arranged with 
 Akbar Kh^n that the palace door giving on the great 
 square between it and the Fort should be on the latch 
 only, so that he might slip in at any time and take his 
 chance of hiding in the garden, his chance of seeing 
 Laila before the dawn came and he had to go back to 
 the Fort. The old sinner, indeed, had jumped at this 
 indefinite arrangement, which bound him to nothing ; 
 
 * >i 
 
 I : 
 
 i.l 
 
 I'i. 
 
!f: 
 
 iM, :- 
 
 r'l 
 
 Vi) 
 
 i .:fi 
 
 P 
 
 ir^'i ill 
 
 
 222 
 
 77/£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 which made it unnecessary for him even to broach 
 the subject of an interview to his mistress. Since what 
 was easier to say than that it had been impossible ; 
 as, indeed, it was ! Perhaps Roshan Khan had himself 
 grasped this fact ; perhaps in insisting on this entry to 
 the garden he had been backing more than his own 
 luck, and had been meditating a coup d'etat of his own. 
 However that may have been, all was forgotten in his 
 newly recovered loyalty, his keen ambition, as he hur- 
 ried back to the Fort intent on but one thing — the 
 forewarning and forearming of those whom he had 
 long ago deliberately chosen as his masters. 
 
 Some of his men were still lounging about on their 
 beds, and he spoke a word to them as he passed, warn- 
 ing them to be ready if wanted. So, leaving them in 
 sudden vague excitement, he passed on to the inner 
 court. Here, where Lance Carlyon's small band of Sikh 
 pioneers were quartered in the long, low building in 
 which the fortified gateway stood, no one was astir. 
 And no lights were visible in the opposite building 
 where Lance and Vincent lived. Doubtless everyone 
 was in bed. 
 
 He passed on, therefore, swiftly to the room he knew 
 to be his Captain's, and knocked. There was no answer. 
 He opened the door and looked in. It was empty. A 
 vague wonder assailed him, and he passed on to Lance 
 Carlyon's room. It was empty also, and the vague un- 
 easiness died down. They must be sitting up still in 
 the balcony overlooking the river, where they sat every 
 day after dinner. Stupid of him not to have gone there 
 first ; and yet, surely, it was late. Perhaps they were 
 uneasy ; perhaps they had already heard ! An open 
 letter ''On Her Majesty s Service'' lying or the dinner 
 table as he passed through the mess room (which was 
 still lit up — sign that the servants had gone to sleep 
 awaiting their masters' call) attracted his attention. He 
 glanced at it, half fearing to find himself forestalled by 
 the police authorities. No ! It was from them, as he 
 had seen at once ; but it was only that notice for dawn. 
 
!- Mi 
 
 JULIET 
 
 223 
 
 Ah ! what was this ? this tiny scrap of paper, which 
 had been twisted to a cocked-hat note, lying caught 
 in the fold of the foolscap, with the two words — 
 " twelve d clock " — written on it ? 
 
 In a woman's writing. Roshan knew enough of in- 
 vitations from Englishwomen to be sure of that. 
 
 The vague uneasiness returned, as he went on to the 
 balcony beyond the dining-room. There too, the swing- 
 ing lamp still burnt, and showed him Lance Carlyon 
 fast asleep in a lounge chair ; but no one else. 
 
 Where was Captain Bering } Captain Bering, who 
 had the key of the little door in the bastion ; Captain 
 Bering, who had had a note with " twelve d clock " in 
 it.? 
 
 A sudden thought struck him. If — if there was 
 anything in his vague fear — then, by taking the canoe, 
 which lay at the bottom of the stairs, he could slip 
 down stream, and see — 
 
 Forgetting everything else, Roshan stole softly past 
 the sleeping Lance, and went down the stairs. 
 
 The canoe was not there. 
 
 Then Captain Bering must have taken it and gone — 
 whithei .' 
 
 There was but one place whither he was likely to go 
 alone at that hour of the night ; one place, a stair like 
 this leading up to a balcony over the river where he had 
 gone once before with a woman, a woman in a dress 
 which marked her for what she was, really — a dress 
 that marked her secluded — which made ///?>, shame 
 unutterable ! 
 
 Roshan's impotent fury rose hot at the inexpressible 
 humiliation. The thought of Captain Bering and Laila 
 alone in that balcony meant but one thing to his in- 
 herited ideas. No glaze of romance was possible. It 
 was shame unutterable, irredeemable. Shame that 
 must be revenged without delay. So, forgetting every- 
 thing else in the world except this, he passed the sleep- 
 ing Lance once more, hurried back to his quarters for 
 his revolver, and only stopping to see that one chamber 
 
 v.:f 
 
 itij 
 
224 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 % 
 
 m 
 
 \¥\ 
 
 It 
 
 
 at least was loaded, made his way to that door which he 
 knew would be on the latch. 
 
 That patient, eager crowd was still thronging the 
 courtyard as he crossed it, pausing a moment beside 
 the great gun which centred the union-jack of raised 
 paths. 
 
 ThQ ^^ Teacher of Religiofi ! '' 
 
 Ay ! they needed a teacher, needed a lesson ; these 
 aliens, these usurpers, these depravers of women. 
 
 Yet, in sober truth, Vincent Bering, at that moment 
 sitting in the little balcony alone with Laila Bonaven- 
 tura, felt quite virtuous. They had just come in from 
 the garden, where they had been strolling and whisper- 
 ing, and now, as they sat together, without a word, 
 scarcely a thought, in the taint light of the young moon 
 and a red jewelled hand-lamp — which Laila, with that 
 unfailing instinct of hers for all that matched the pas- 
 sionate mystery of the place, had set in a carved niche, 
 where it looked like a votive offering to the unseen im- 
 age of a saint — Vincent could feel the warm ivory of her 
 cheek against his own, hear the soft chink of her jewels 
 as they slid towards him, following the soft warm curves 
 on which they lay. The red light of the lamp glittered 
 faintly in red stars on the myriad facets of looking-glass 
 with which the vaulted roof above them was adorned. 
 It fell, reddening the red lights on the gold-stiffened 
 crimson waves of her dress, that sent such a bewildering 
 perfume to cloud his senses with passionate content. 
 
 A vast tenderness, a vast triumph, surged through 
 him at the thought of her. Who dared to judge her by 
 the narrow standards of to-day — she, who had gone 
 back boldly to realities ! 
 
 This was what poets had sung since time began ; this 
 was what the world had exchanged for Paradise ! 
 
 Juliet! Juliet! 
 
 And if he was the *^ god of her idolatryl' she was to 
 him the ^^ dearest morsel of earth'' 
 
 He Hent and whispered the name to her with a kiss. 
 \nd as he did so, a step, swift, bold, masterful, 
 
TRAPPED 
 
 225 
 
 which he 
 
 iging the 
 nt beside 
 of raised 
 
 >n ; these 
 in. 
 
 ; moment 
 Bonaven- 
 2 in from 
 whisper- 
 a word, 
 ng moon 
 kvith that 
 . the pas- 
 ed niche, 
 iseen im- 
 ry of her 
 er jewels 
 n curves 
 glittered 
 mg-glass 
 adorned, 
 stiffened 
 vildering 
 itent. 
 through 
 her by 
 ad gone 
 
 an ; this 
 
 e was to 
 
 a kiss, 
 asterful, 
 
 sounded in the passage above ; the step of one with a 
 right to be there. 
 
 Vincent, startled, sat listening ; but Laila was on her 
 feet in a second, with a reckless laugh. 
 
 "Father Laurence!" she cried. "Well! let him 
 come. I'm not afraid ! For he loved her. He must 
 remember ! " 
 
 So, as a dim figure showed, half seen, in the archway, 
 she stood like a queen, her hand raised, her head thrown 
 back ; a sight never to be forgotten. 
 
 " There is no use in being angry, guardian," she called, 
 in her full-throated voice. ** It is too late for that. 
 Remember — " She paused, gave a slight scream, and 
 flung herself before Vincent. 
 
 There was a flash, a second scream, and then the 
 arches rang with the echoes of a pistol-shot. 
 
 "Laila! Laila!" 
 
 " You damned scoundrel ! You've killed her ! " 
 
 " Laila ! Laila ! " 
 
 There were two voices echoing the woman's name, 
 but only that one pistol-shot. Then two useless clicks 
 of a trigger, before, with an oath, Roshan Khdn flung 
 the revolver from him and fled. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 TRAPPED 
 
 But that pistol-shot, as it pierced the hot, sultry air 
 in the vaulted archways, was caught by a sudden blast 
 of warm wind, sweeping God knows whence, to God 
 knows where ! and was blown out riverwards, citywards. 
 Blown by that sudden blast, like the hot breath of some- 
 one's anger, which always heralds an electrical dust-storm. 
 One moment there is the stillness of the uttermost void 
 brooding over the deep ; the next, causelessly, God knows 
 why ! the spirit moving palpably. 
 
 And so it is always when the ever-recurring struggle 
 
 .J',' 
 
 Jif 
 
 I < 
 
 \ \ 
 
 \\ 
 
 ' '! 
 
 'Si 
 
f- !l 
 
 it 
 
 226 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 for the right road to that lost Paradise, ^or the right 
 method of regaining that bartered birthright, begins 
 afresh among the sons of Adam. When the Hosts of 
 the Lord, — fighting, as men always fight, under the 
 banner of Right, for what they think good and true, 
 for what seems to them to bring them nearer to the 
 golden gates — change armed peace for war. 
 
 It was so now ; and Lance Carlyon, waking to the 
 familiar, yet unfamiliar sound of that pistol-shot, woke 
 also to the knov/ledge that someone had already resorted 
 to that last argument between man and his fellow. 
 
 Who was it } And why } 
 
 As he stood, still half dazed by sleep, listening, as one 
 does instinctively, for another shot to follow the first, a 
 Hew sound distracted his attention. 
 
 Was he still asleep and dreaming } or was that really 
 Erda Shepherd's voice, rising towards him from the 
 sliding, unseen river } 
 
 "I will come back to you directly," it said in Urdu. 
 The half-heard promise of the words took him by storm, 
 making him foi^-^et the strangeness of the language. 
 Yet even that made his bewilderment more utter. And 
 all around him, abc^t ^im, a mist — or was it a cloud, or 
 what was it .-* — had sprung into bjing. A wreath as of 
 smoke drifted past the wide arches of the balcony, blot- 
 ting out the pale shimmer of the young moon. 
 
 The swinging lamp above his head darkened, reddened, 
 as the dust-atoms leapt from the earth into the air, obedi- 
 ent to the call of that mightiest force in nature which 
 holds the world together, and guides it on its way among 
 the stars. 
 
 Pidar Nar^yan had been right ! The electrical storm 
 had come ! 
 
 But Erda had come with it. He could see her now, 
 standing at the top of the river steps, dimmed by the 
 dust-atoms that glittered faintly in the clouded ray of 
 the lamp ; could see her — tall, slim, white — with a red- 
 gold ball in her hand. 
 
 So it was only a dream ; he was asleep still ! 
 
 
TRAPPED 
 
 227 
 
 The certainty of this, the knowledge that he would 
 wake soon, made him yielci to impulse, to emotion, as he 
 would never have done otherwise. He held out his arms 
 to the gracious vision, his voice rang with passion. 
 
 " Erda ! Erda ! You have come hack to me! — the 
 world's desire — my heart's desire:" 
 
 And then, suddenly, his heart a-tremble for the first 
 time, he drew back from his own fervour almost apolo- 
 getically ; for the scared look of the face seen through 
 those earth-atoms had brought it home to him that this 
 was no dream. This was Erda Shepherd herself, the 
 woman who was the ^^ dearest atom of God's earth'' to 
 him. And she had come back, for what ? Not to listen 
 to his passion, anyhow. 
 
 *' What is the matter ? " he asked briefly, sternly ; for 
 it came home lu him also that the cpuse must be grave. 
 
 She gave a little shiver ; the hearing of that first 
 greeting had upset her calm, her courage, at last. Yet 
 they had been firm till then ; and. Heaven knows ! the 
 long hours of slipping through the rapids in the wake 
 of that heaving, plunging mass of logs had been trying 
 enough to anyone. Then for the last half hour, since 
 Am-ma had cut the raft adrift to follow them at its 
 leisure through the slacker currents, and, in obedience 
 to ,ier order, had forged ahead with his paddle, her 
 anxiety had risen to fever-pitch ; since the night, so far 
 as she could judge, must be waning fast, and her errand 
 would be useless if she were not in Eshwara before the 
 dawn. For, as she had listened to Am-ma's garrulous 
 talk Vi^hile he steered, the conviction had grown that the 
 danger to peace and safety — if there was any — lay in 
 the future, not in the past ; that this dawn, and not 
 yesterday's, was to be the signal for the insensate, al- 
 most incredible attempt to wreck authority. An attempt 
 which yet — incredible, insensate though it be — might 
 bring death to — to one she held very dear. 
 
 She admitted so much now to herself, and, pulling 
 that self together, looked that dear one in the face. 
 "There is a good deal the matter," she said. "You 
 
 \\ 
 
 HI 
 
 ::}! 
 
 k 
 
 }Jl 
 
228 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 \A 
 
 i ': 
 
 !l; i\i 
 
 had better call Captain Dcring to hear it, too ; it will 
 save time." 
 
 He nodded acquiescence, but ere he left her, the in- 
 stinct in him to guard his *^ dearest atom'' to the utter- 
 most from others, made him set a chair for her, and, 
 glancing round for a wrap, take the mess jacket he had 
 laid aside for a smoking coat, and fold it round her. 
 For the air had grown suddenly chill, as it always does 
 in a sand-storm. 
 
 "You must be cold in that dress," he said. Ashe 
 did so the daintiness of it struck him, the scent of the 
 orange blossoms made him turn pale. Despite his 
 hurry, his certainty that something serious was ahead, 
 he paused to ask sharply : " That is your wedding dress, 
 isn't it.?" — 
 
 " I am not married, if you mean that ! " she answered 
 as sharply. Then she flushed up angrily, more at the 
 comprehension shown in her own answer than the 
 meaning in his question, and burst out : " What does it 
 matter if I am — or if it is.? Go! I tell you, and call 
 Captain Bering!" 
 
 Yet, when he was gone, she lay back in the chair and 
 shivered again ; all the more because of the unaccus- 
 tomed touch about her throat of the gold lace on a mess 
 jacket. How red it looked against her white dress I 
 And what a lot of little gold buttons there were at its 
 edge : foolish, useless, little ornamental gilt buttons, 
 round and red-gold, like — 
 
 The comparison brought back Lance's cry of welcome, 
 and made her realize that, quite mechanically, she still 
 held in her hand that useless, foolish, unnecessary 
 orange ! 
 
 That, of course, was what had made him remember ; 
 had made him say those words which had come like the 
 writing on the wall to remind her of her own guilt. 
 
 She flung the fruit from her, hastily, into the unseen 
 river beyond the arches. Only just in time, ere Lance 
 reentered, with a puzzled face. 
 
 " I can't find Bering anywhere," he said vexedly. 
 
TRAPPED 
 
 229 
 
 )o; it will 
 
 er, the in- 
 
 the utter- 
 
 her, and, 
 
 cet he had 
 
 ound her. 
 
 ways does 
 
 d. As he 
 snt of the 
 ispite his 
 ^as ahead, 
 ing dress, 
 
 answered 
 )re at the 
 
 than the 
 at does it 
 a, and call 
 
 chair and 
 
 unaccus- 
 
 on a mess 
 
 ite dress ! 
 
 ere at its 
 
 buttons, 
 
 welcome, 
 , she still 
 necessary 
 
 jmember ; 
 e like the 
 ;uilt. 
 
 le unseen 
 ;re Lance 
 
 vexedly. 
 
 
 "He is not in his room. Hasn't been to bed, either; 
 though he turned in early saying he was half asleep. I 
 wonder what is up } Can he have heard already, do you 
 think } Scarcely ; and he would not have gone without 
 waking me." His surprise seemed to absorb him. 
 
 "Then I must \.€i\ yon, for there is no time to be lost," 
 interrupted Erda, impatiently. Yet, even in her stren- 
 uous desire to make him understand quickly, she did not 
 fail to explain, breathlessly, how she came to be dressed 
 as she was. She had been trying on her wedding dress 
 to see if it fitted, and had gone into the garden for — for 
 
 — flowers, when Am-ma and his raft had come floating 
 down the river. 
 
 And was not that all true } she asked herself passion- 
 ately, as she told the tale. It was all of the truth, any- 
 how, that he or anyone else was ever to know. 
 
 So she had come to warn them, as she was. 
 
 A great joy at her courage filled Lance as he listened, 
 for to most men the possibility of a woman acting as a 
 man might act comes as a wonder. 
 
 " It was awfully plucky of you," he began ; but she cut 
 him short with a question as to what was to be done now. 
 
 "Warn Dillon, first of all," he said readily. "We 
 have a wire laid on, you know. I only hope this infernal 
 
 — I beg your pardon — dust-storm won't interfere with 
 the connection. You had better come over with me to 
 the office ; it is just across the yard, and I don't like 
 leaving you alone. Do you mind } " 
 
 "I'll come, of course, — but I must make sure of 
 Am-ma waiting first," she added, with a ring in her 
 voice ; the ring of a vigorous vitality which finds itself 
 face to face with action. " He said the raft couldn't 
 overtake us for ^alf an hour. But he must not go, any- 
 how, and he will want to. I had difficulty in getting 
 him to leave it, as it was. But I had to make him. I 
 had to be in time ! " 
 
 "And you are — loads of time ! " he called, as he ran 
 down the river steps before her, to give the order. " It 
 isn't two o'clock yet, and — " he paused abruptly, on 
 
 ; I 
 
 • I 
 
 i i 
 
 .»! 
 
 4 I 
 
1^ ;is 
 
 I li 
 
 230 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 seeing, to his surprise, that only Am-ma*s strange craft 
 lay sidling against the bottom step, over which little 
 waves were curving hurriedly, to reach up the wall, as 
 if the water-atoms were as restless as those of earth, as 
 eager to seek a new element. For the air was growing 
 darker, thicker every instant with the intruders. He 
 looked round hastily, but there was no sign of the canoe 
 anywhere. Yet he had seen it moored to its ring before 
 dinner ! 
 
 Vincent must have taken it. Whither ? An answer 
 leapt to Lance's mind, and he flushed up, even in the 
 dark, redly. If this was so — what the deuce was to 
 be done } 
 
 There was an added confusion, an added responsibility 
 in his face as he ran back to where Erda stood waiting 
 him, and, catching up a lamp from the mess table, started 
 with her close at his heels for the ofifice. "That is the 
 first thing, anyhow ! " he muttered, half to himself. 
 "Dillon must be warned — " 
 
 " And perhaps Captain Bering will be back by then," 
 she suggested cheerfully, as, witii the mess jacket worn 
 as it should be for greater convenience of action and 
 greater protection (she had slipped her arms into it, 
 deliberately, while waiting for Lance), she followed in 
 the little halo of dull, red light cast by the lamp through 
 the dust-mist. 
 
 The courtyard was still without sign of life ; for there 
 was nothing to guard here. The massive gates of the 
 citadel once closed, and a sentry outside the wicket, 
 there could be no fear of secret comings and goings. 
 
 " I hope to God he may," said Lance, ahead, and his 
 tone made the girl wonder. 
 
 His face, too, surprised her, as, sitting down to the 
 instrument, he signalled for attention. No doubt when 
 time is an object, there must always be a sense of strain 
 in that pause before the answering tinkle comes to tell 
 that a human hand and brain is at the other end of the 
 thin wini which means so much, but there was more 
 than that in Lance Carlyon's frown. 
 
TRAPPED 
 
 231 
 
 ange craft 
 hich little 
 le wall, as 
 f earth, as 
 growing 
 ders. He 
 the canoe 
 ing before 
 
 ^n answer 
 en in the 
 ce was to 
 
 Donsibility 
 )d waiting 
 le, started 
 liat is the 
 ) himself. 
 
 by then," 
 cket worn 
 ction and 
 is into it, 
 >llowed in 
 p through 
 
 for there 
 es of the 
 e wicket, 
 oings. 
 I, and his 
 
 m to the 
 ubt when 
 of strain 
 2s to tell 
 id of the 
 vas more 
 
 In truth, as he waited, he was not thinking so much 
 of what would happen if the communication was inter- 
 rupted, but what was to be done if it was not. Think- 
 ing that he must, somehow, warn Vincent. Thinking 
 how awkward it would be for ///';;/ if there was a row, 
 and he absent, as it were, without leave ! 
 
 So it was Erda who recalled him to the wider issue. 
 "What are you going to do, if Dr. Dillon doesn't hear.?" 
 
 She had to raise her voice a little, for something — 
 either coming wind or tar-distant thunder — had brought 
 a curious, faint reverberation to the air. 
 
 It seemed to come from all quarters, scarcely distin- 
 guishable, yet unmistakable, like the roll of a half- 
 muffled drum, or a deep organ note quivering into 
 silence. 
 
 The darkness all about them grew thicker and thicker. 
 Lance, close beside her in that red lamp circle, showed 
 as if seen through gauze. How unreal it all was ! Her- 
 self, most of all, in a mess jacket, and, of course — but 
 this thought came second — her wedding dress! And 
 then it struck her that she, herself, was more unrea' than 
 anything else. To be there at dead of night, feeling 
 no fear, only a sort of savage interest — 
 
 "But if he doesn't hear," she persisted, "you vvill 
 have to go down the river and warn him." 
 
 He nodded. And yet his thought went first to the 
 fact that, if he had to do this, if Roshan Khan had to be 
 left in charge of the relief, it would be still more awk- 
 ward for Vincent Dering. 
 
 Tri7ig-a-tring-tri7i<^ ! 
 
 The answering tinkle brought a little breath of joy to 
 them both ; but Erda felt inclined to stamp her feet at 
 the slow precision with which Lance — who had to 
 remember each equivalent sign — spelt out his message. 
 He could not be quicker, of course, and yet surely he 
 might ! She longed to snatch at the handles herself, 
 thou2:h she could not signal at all. 
 
 "There, that's done!" she cried, as a continuous 
 short rattle followed from the other end, which Lance 
 
 I: a 
 
 i 
 
 ' *j 
 
 
pi '!-^ 
 
 iiji 
 
 JLiaii 
 
 [ 
 
 232 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 translated into — " All right, await you y " Now ! what 
 is to be done next ? " 
 
 " Roshan Khin ! — he'll get the men together," an- 
 swered Lance, already on his way to the wicket in the 
 gate. To his surprise, it was closed. He knocked, no 
 answer came. Erda, holding the lamp, looked at him 
 .startled. 
 
 " Sentry ! '* he called. " Sentry ! Open the door ! 
 'Miracle!''' 
 
 It was the password for the night, given by Captain 
 Bering in contemptuous memory of the day ; but it pro- 
 duced no result. The wicket remained obstinately 
 closed. 
 
 " They've locked us in ! " whispered Erda ; the lower- 
 ing of her voice beiny due to a swift instinct that the 
 less fuss made the better ; the less chance of interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 Lance bent his ear to the keyhole to listen. Those 
 dull, muffled reverberations — either distant thunder, or 
 faint, ineffective explosions of electricity close at hand 
 — were louder now ; but he could hear no sound above 
 them. He shook his head. 
 
 Erda had the lamp on the ground in a second, and 
 was beside it, her red-gold hair in the dust, as she peered 
 through a three-inch in a grating between the iron- 
 rimmed door and the iron lintel. 
 
 When she rose up her face was like the iron also. 
 
 " They've trapped us ! " she whispered. " There is a 
 sentry outside — I saw his feet. Come away, and let us 
 settle what to do. And say something, something 
 angry — you know what I mean." 
 
 " Damn that brute ! " said Lance, cordially, in a loud 
 voice, "where t^>f" deuce has the sentry gone to} I'll 
 have it out with him to-morrow, the infernal — " 
 
 Erda, ahead with the lamp, turned to look back, and 
 put her finger on her lips reproachfully. *' That's quite 
 enough," she said ; but she said it with a smile. That 
 vigorous delight in action which some women feel was 
 making her blood race through her veins. 
 
TRAPPED 
 
 2.33 
 
 "Now what's to be done?" she said swiftly, as she 
 put the lamp down on the mess table again. " Let's 
 think hard." 
 
 The gate was closed against interference with — with 
 
 Proof positive, therefore, that 
 
 — something ! 
 
 That was evident. 
 Am-ma's tale was true. 
 
 So it followed that the most urgent need for help was 
 at the gaol. 
 
 But how to reach it, and with whom } 
 
 Lance's thoughts turned instantly to Roshan Khdn. 
 Was he — could he be in the plot } Surely not. Yet 
 with or without his knowledge, the outer court was in 
 the hands of rebels who thought their English officers 
 were caught like rats in a trap ; for, of course, they did 
 not know Dering was absent. 
 
 And so it was. He and his pioneers — twenty or 
 thereabouts — were in a trap. What couid they do to get 
 out of it } Their arms, scaling ladders, everything, were 
 in the outside courtyard. What would be the use, 
 either, of trying to force the door } Mere waste of time. 
 The thing- required was to prevent those fifteen hun- 
 dred men with a criminal past being let loose on Esh- 
 wara, let loose — as men like them had been in the 
 Mutiny — to give a lead over. 
 
 And that — how was that to be done.? 
 
 He looked across to Erda, and took sudden comfort 
 in the quick intelligence of her face. 
 
 "You had better take my place with Am-ma," she 
 said sharply. " Go down stream to the spit, cut across 
 by the mission house, and chance getting over to the 
 police camp." 
 
 He had thought of this before. The extra police, 
 with their two officers, who had come over to see the 
 festival through peacefully, were encamped above the 
 boat-bridge and though, of course, most of the men 
 would be scattered on duty through the town, even 
 some help would be better than none. Yet how to 
 leave Erda, not alone even, but with twenty men whose 
 
 ' i 
 
 ill 
 
i;f 
 
 li- 
 
 234 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 loyalty would depend largely — as it always did — on 
 action, on their having someone to fight ? 
 
 " But you," he began — 
 
 "I'll stay here. They won't try to come in — yet a 
 while. I am not afraid of being alone." 
 
 "I wouldn't mind your being alone," he put in, "but 
 my Sikhs — " 
 
 " Your Sikhs," she echoed. " Are they here } Then 
 why — ?" 
 
 " They have no arms — I could find some, perhaps — " 
 
 — His words — both their words — jostled each other 
 in sheer haste. — 
 
 " Yes ! then why don't you call them .^ " — 
 " How can I use them } — trapped like a rat . 
 They — they might be v/orse than useless, without 
 something to 'lo — without a lead over — don't you 
 see .^ — and there is nothing — " 
 
 — " Nothing ! " she echoed, almost savagely, as she 
 clasped and unclasped her hands, dragging the fingers 
 through each other, in sheer straining after some 
 thought on which to clutch, in cruel whipping and 
 spurring of her wits against that inaction. 
 
 Nothing ! Nothing ! The word seemed to fill the 
 world. 
 
 Nothing in earth or air or fire or — 
 
 "Stay!" she cried, with a gasp. "The raft! The 
 raft I Am-ma shall fetch it — it must be close by, now. 
 There will be room. It can float down to opposite the 
 gaol." 
 
 He stared at her as she stood in her white, and scar- 
 let, and gold. 
 
 "By Jove!" he said softly "by Jove, you've got 
 it!" 
 
 The next instant he was off to rouse his men, and 
 she was on the bottom step giving Am-ma his orders, 
 short, sharp, clear. 
 
 But when Lance came back again to look out what 
 arms and ammunition he could lay hands on, he found 
 her, in his room, sorting cartridges as if she had done 
 
^M 
 
 TRAPPED 
 
 235 
 
 , did 
 
 on 
 
 n — yet a 
 
 t in, "but 
 
 e ? Then 
 
 jrhaps — " 
 iach other 
 
 2 a rat . 
 1, without 
 don't you 
 
 ly, as she 
 he fingers 
 Fter some 
 )ping and 
 
 :o fill the 
 
 aft ! The 
 't by, now. 
 posite the 
 
 and scar- 
 
 ou've got 
 
 men, and 
 lis orders, 
 
 out what 
 he found 
 had done 
 
 it all her life ; and her face turned to him all aglow and 
 splendid. 
 
 " We shall manage it ! Am-ma's gone. He didn't 
 want to, but I told him I'd kill the baby if he didn't. 
 I suppose it wa^ wrong," — though her woman's tongue 
 sought speech, her woman's hands stuck to their work 
 — " but I couldn't help it. I felt so savage." 
 
 *' You are very brave," he said simply. 
 
 "Brave!" she ecb-^ed. "Why not.? People talk as 
 if women always had to try and not be afraid ; but we 
 are not all like that. Some of us want to fight. I do, 
 always." 
 
 She looked it, as, when all was ready, she leant, 
 straining her eyes into the darkness for a hint of 
 Am-ma's return. " He must come," she muttered to 
 herself, "he shall come!" 
 
 And he did. A bigger wave came sweeping up to 
 the wall as a herald, and then a voice calling for a rope. 
 Half a dozen were ready posted in the men's hands 
 from various points of vantage. They flew outwards ; 
 one, from Am-ma's hands inwards to a group holding 
 a lantern on the steps. So, with a silent haul, the 
 pioneers had the raft stopped, and sidling slowly back 
 to mooring against the wall. 
 
 Then Lance turned to Erda hesitating, divided be- 
 tween his loyalty to Vincent, and to her. 
 
 "The palace ought to be warned," he said briefly — 
 " if I go there ahead on Am-ma's craft, I could pick you 
 up on your way down. Could you manage } " 
 
 She gavea look round on the men, eagerwith the sudden 
 excitement, with the rush, with the very novelty of it 
 all, and laughed — positively laughed. " Manage ? Yes ! 
 of course I can manage — havildar! sec those cartridges 
 .vfc put well back out of the wet — stay! bring down 
 that table, someone, and give it a lash — " 
 
 Yet, despite this absolute lack of fear, despite the fact 
 that she evidently wanted and desired no more considera- 
 tion than a man, Lance felt a wild dislike to leaving her 
 there alone, as he stepped on to Am-ma's skin craft, and, 
 
 M 
 
 i ■ ) 
 
 
1 ,1 
 
 1! I 
 
 236 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 edging his way along by the wall, prepared to drift down 
 to the palace balcony. It was mirk dark now, and he 
 had no fear of being seen by the crowd on the bathing 
 steps and the courtyard, though he punted his way with 
 the paddle shaft within a yard or two of the shore ; for 
 he wanted to judge how far excitement had spread, how 
 far the crowd was aware of what was coming at dawn. 
 
 To judg by appearances, not at all. There was no 
 more restlessness, no more movement than was inevitable 
 in such a concourse of men, women, and children. Here 
 and there files of shadowy forms drifted about, but the 
 most of them, seen by the little lights set on the ground 
 beside each group, were in heaps, like the heaps of dead 
 on a battle-field, huddled up on each other, sleeping, rest- 
 ing, indistinguishable, shrouded in their shawls, waiting 
 for the dawn to come. 
 
 And, above the soft, yet increasing murmur of the 
 still windless storm, came a softer murmuring of prayers, 
 a weird low chanting. 
 
 The Hosts of the Lord had not yet risen to battle. 
 The Spirit had not moved ; the Word had not been made 
 manifest. 
 
 The palace, also, lay as yet undisturbed, unseen, in 
 the darkness. Except for a glimmer of red light just 
 above the river, a paler glimmer closer at hand. 
 
 The red light must be by the stairs for which he was 
 steering. 
 
 The other } — 
 
 He did not know, but as he slipped past it another 
 murmuring as of prayer seemed to come from within. It 
 must come from the chapel ; if so, then Pidar Narayan 
 must be awake also. He felt a certain relief at the 
 thought when he caught sight of the canoe at the bot- 
 tom of the steps. Then Vincent, as he had feared, was 
 there ; but not on the errand he had feared, if Pidar 
 Narayan knew of it. So, mooring his strange craft to 
 the canoe, he ran up the stairs eagerly. 
 
' ) 
 
 ift down 
 
 and he 
 bathing 
 
 i^ay with 
 
 ore ; for 
 
 iad, how 
 
 dawn, 
 was no 
 
 levitable 
 
 Here 
 
 but the 
 
 i ground 
 of dead 
 
 ng, rest- 
 waiting 
 
 r of the 
 prayers, 
 
 battle. 
 ;en made 
 
 seen, in 
 ght just 
 
 1 he was 
 
 another 
 thin. It 
 Narayan 
 [ at the 
 the bot- 
 red, was 
 if Pidar 
 craft to 
 
 MARGHERITA 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 MARGHERITA 
 
 237 
 
 Father Ninian had been awake all night. He had 
 been vaguely uneasy all day, conscious, with that fine 
 perception of his, that something was amiss. But it 
 was no fear of what might happen which had kept him 
 watching when others slept. It was the memory of 
 something which Jiad happened , for, by a coincidence 
 that for more than fifty years had never lost its mystical 
 significance for Ninian Bruce — sentimentalist as he was 
 to his finger tips — t'' ^ night of the Vaisakh festival, 
 when the pilgrims watched for the dawn to guide them 
 on their way to the 'Cradle of the Gods,' was to him, 
 personally, the saddest and gladdest of the whole year. 
 Since it was the night on which he had sinned the great 
 sin of his life, and repented of it, even in the sinning. 
 
 And that sinning, that repenting, was no slight thing 
 to him. It was the man himself ; for the passion that 
 was in him in his youth was in him in his old age. It 
 had only changed its dwelling-place. It had fled from 
 the senses, and found refuge in the emotions. In a way, 
 indeed, by thus seeking freedom from it, he had fallen 
 into a greater thraldom, so that his whole life had been 
 as much swayed by this renunciation of a woman as it 
 would have been by her possession. 
 
 Old as he was, this very night had brought him — 
 with the thought that Death could not delay much 
 longer, and that next Vaisakh festival might find him 
 no lonely watcher — that thrill of self-absorption in 
 another self, that claim for all, which is the essence of 
 passion. For this woman, waiting for him in the land 
 where there is no marrying or giving in marriage, was 
 still a woman ; still the one of all God's creatures whom 
 he claimed, and who claimed him, even as the first 
 woman claimed the first man in Paradise. 
 
 So he had passed the night watches of the Festival of 
 Spring as he had always passed them. Partly in his 
 
 ii 
 
 «.f 
 
 
I! r 
 
 li: I 
 
 III 
 
 '. i 
 
 ■ -I 
 
 r ! 
 
 !38 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 room, that room made holy by her presence in his heart, 
 partly in the chapel, made holy by the Bodily Presence 
 of Him for Whose sake he had renounced her. The two 
 holinesses were inextricably mixed in Pidar Narayan's 
 mind. 
 
 He had finished one of the masses for the repose of a 
 sinning yet sainted soul, and, before repeating the next, 
 was confessing his own repentance in his room, when 
 that hasty footstep along the passage, which alarmed 
 those two lovers in the balcony nearer the garden, had 
 resounded through the arches. It had disturbed, but 
 not startled him, its very boldness reassuring him of its 
 right to be there. Probably it was some messenger from 
 the police camp or the Fort. So he had risen from his 
 knees calmly and passed into the chapei, which lay be- 
 tween his room and the balcony, in order to see who it 
 could be. For the candles were lit on the Altar and sent 
 a faint light into the vaulted passage beyond. 
 
 It was as he paused, in passing, io do homage to that 
 Bodily Presence upon the Altar, which was ready — as 
 he was in his robes — for the service of love which was 
 to him, as a priest, his duty, as a man a joy unspeakable, 
 that the pistol-shot came clamouring through the arches, 
 followed by those despairing cries. 
 
 What they were he could not distinguish, but that 
 they were urgent was unmistakable, and had he been 
 young as he had been on that night long years ago in 
 the balcony above the pale flood of the Tiber, he could 
 not have been quicker to reach the armoury, seize the 
 long rapier, which he had not used, save in play, since 
 those ruffling days in Rome, and run out into the wide, 
 dim passage whence the sound had reached him. 
 
 None too soon ! Someone was already flying down it. 
 He pulled himself up for attack, but the figure ere he could 
 lunge at it was past him, desperate, indifferent, fling- 
 ing him against the wall as it continued its reckless way 
 to the outer door, where, with swift opening and closing, 
 it disappeared into the crowded courtyard, out of sight 
 — beyond recall ! 
 
!'! 
 
 MA RG HE RITA 
 
 239 
 
 He stood for a moment, stupefied. What was Roshan 
 Kh^n doing there ? For that faint light from the Altar 
 had given him a glimpse of a familiar, dark face, Roshan 
 Khan's without a doubt ! 
 
 "Laila! Laila!" 
 
 The cry was clearer this time and the blood left his 
 fine old face in sudden doubt as he turned swiftly to his 
 left. Turned, and saw a faint red glow through an arch 
 far down the passage. 
 
 That was the arch leading down into the balcony that 
 was never lit up — that was never to be lit up because 
 of something that had happened there long ago — because 
 of the something which had begun a tragedy. 
 
 Why was it lit up .'' A stronger fear caught at his 
 heart. Could Laila 1 — No ! — impossible ! 
 
 He ran on, and the next moment was realizing that 
 some tragedy had ended in that balcony. 
 
 But what } 
 
 Who was the woman in native dress who stood with a 
 man's arm around her — a man in a carlet and gold 
 mess jacket.-* Ah! — that was Captain Dering, un- 
 doubtedly. But the woman } The woman in scarlet 
 and gold also — God in Heaven! — had the dead — 
 
 As he stared, the long, supple limbs, so clearly out- 
 lined under their cunningly contrived draperies, seemed 
 to lose themselves in the colour, the glitter of rich stuff ; 
 one white arm, losing its hold on a cuff of scarlet and 
 gold, swung back helplessly, and Vincent Dering, with 
 a passionate entreaty to his darling not to be afraid, to 
 look up, and tell him where she was hurt, sank to one 
 knee the better to support what he held. 
 
 And so the face, tilted backwards over his shoulder, 
 came in view. 
 
 Laila ! 
 
 For an instant Ninian Bruce stood bewildered. Then 
 all his youth, the pride of birth, the dash, and the fire 
 which had made that youth what it had been, rose up 
 in him. The blooa surged back to his face in wild 
 anger, in savage sense of insult, and desire for revenge. 
 
 
 'I 
 
'>H M 
 
 V' ' 
 
 (j 
 
 
 r;,i 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 $ 
 
 ;. 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 240 
 
 T//E HOST'^ OF THE LORD 
 
 ill 
 
 " How dare you ! " he cried, clenching his hand on 
 his sword. " You shall answer for this, sir ! How 
 do you come to be here, at this time of night, and 
 why?" 
 
 Vincent, who at the first word had given a hurried 
 glance to see who the speaker was, then returned to his 
 task with the indifference of one absolutely preoccupied, 
 held up his hand passionately against more. 
 
 " Don't — and don't preach, for God's sake, old man ! " 
 he cried recklessly. " Come and help, if you like. Some 
 brute — Oh, curse him ! curse him ! " 
 
 His one trembling hand, for the other was round her, 
 supporting her, was busy with the quaint, jewelled clasps 
 of the scented corselet, which was crimsoning deeper 
 with another dye. " It's too late for preaching," he 
 muttered, half to himself, — "too late ! too late ! " 
 
 The words seemed to stun his hearer into silence. 
 He stood bewildered. Too late for what } 
 
 And now, roused by that pistol-shot also, another old 
 man, who had carefully hidden himself away from the pos- 
 sibility of being found by Roshan Khan, on the rage for 
 an impossible interview ; who had counted, with malicious 
 cunning, on the cooling effect of a useless waiting in the 
 garden till dawn should make it necessary for hot-blooded 
 lovers to return to the Fort, stole like a thief to the bal- 
 cony. What could have happened } The only likely 
 trouble which had occurred to his vast experience had 
 been the possibility of Roshan Khdn seeking the inter- 
 view upstairs. And for that very reason had not he, 
 Akbar Khan, felt it his duty to sleep outside his mis- 
 tress's door .^ What more could faithful servitude be 
 expected to do } 
 
 But this ! What was this } Hi's charge had stolen a 
 march upon him. Old as he wa& "'^. the care of frail 
 womanhood, he had been imposed upon ! Then, as he 
 crept round a pillar craftily, the sight of Pidar Nardyan, 
 in his priestly robes, made the old sinner throw up his 
 hands and grovel in the dust. 
 
 " This slave knew nothing ! " he mumbled, gasping. 
 
MARGHERITA 
 
 241 
 
 5 hand on 
 r ! How 
 light, and 
 
 a hurried 
 ned to his 
 ^occupied, 
 
 >ld man ! " 
 :e. Some 
 
 ound her, 
 led clasps 
 \g deeper 
 iiing," he 
 e ! " 
 ) silence. 
 
 other old 
 m the pos- 
 e rage for 
 malicious 
 ng in the 
 it-blooded 
 
 the bal- 
 ily likely- 
 en ce had 
 :he inter- 
 \ not he, 
 
 his mis- 
 ^itude be 
 
 1 stolen a 
 e of frail 
 en, as he 
 Nar^yan, 
 IV up his 
 
 gasping. 
 
 
 "This was unknown. And for the other, I told him it 
 was too soon, too soon, — far too soon." 
 
 Too soon, and too late ! What did it all mean .■* 
 Father Ninian stood helpless, paralyzed ; but Vincent 
 caught at the words. 
 
 " The other ! " he echoed. " You black devil ! who 
 was the other.' Who was that man.' Curse him!" 
 He paused, for Laila opened her eyes. 
 
 " It was Roshan Khan," she said, with a smile, that 
 half-amused, half-mysterious smile. " He gave me the 
 dress, you know, and I think he wanted me — to marry 
 him. Hush! what's the use of being angry — now.'" 
 She checked his incredulous outcry, and her hand hesi- 
 tated up to his trembli' ; fingers, and held them back 
 from their task. "Don't," she went on ; "I'd rather — 
 you didn't waste time. I want you to look at me — 
 only me — me, myself. Ah! that's nice!" 
 
 There was an instant's silence ; then her eyes wan- 
 dered to his cuff as it rested on her corselet, and she 
 smiled again. "We match, don't we.' I'm glad. Be- 
 sides, it won't stain much, I expect — that's why sol- 
 diers wear red, isn't it.'" 
 
 The deadly realism roused Vincent to a sort of fury 
 at his own helplessness But what could a man do, 
 caught in a second by Fate to be chief actor in a scene 
 like this, where he was lost, — lost utterly.' And those 
 two fools looking on — doing nothing! 
 
 "At least, in common charity, you might help. 
 You're something of a doctor ! " he cried passionately. 
 " We can settle scores afterwards, you and I, can't we .' 
 But now you might help her^ 
 
 " What did she say .' " asked Father Ninian, toneiessly. 
 He had caught a word or two, and their triviality, in the 
 face of what had happened — a triviality common in 
 those who have been struck down as she had been, al- 
 most painlessly — had but increased his bev/ilderment. 
 " What does it mean .' How do you come here .' I 
 must know, first." 
 
 The girl had turned her face quickly to the new voice ; 
 
 f i 
 
 li 
 
 W 
 
 \ 
 
 \ ; 
 
 • 'I- 
 
I 
 
 242 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 i 
 
 
 and, after vainly trying to rise, lay back breathlessly. 
 "Tell him, Vincent ; he's Father Laurence. Remember 
 
 — he must know — and — and I — can't — " 
 
 "Then here it is, sir!" broke in Vincent, brutally. 
 " If you will wait to know, when every moment is pre- 
 cious. We love each other — you've done it in your 
 time, I'm told ! I've been coming here, night after 
 night, to see her ; she wears that dress to please me — 
 there ! Now you've got it ! And to-night, some devil 
 
 — she says Roshan Khan, but she's dreaming; what 
 can he have to do with it.-* — stood there and fired — 
 at me, I think; but she flung herself — Ah! Laila, my 
 darling, why did you.-* Now, will that satisfy you — 
 you — you — " 
 
 "Hush!" came Laila's voice — "there is no use in 
 being angry. Besides, he understands ; he knows what 
 it is to be in love quite well. Don't you, guardian ? 
 You loved her, didn't you .'* Margherita, I mean — " 
 
 She wandered off into Italian — the language they 
 always spoke, and her rich voice dulled, died away, as 
 the faintncss returned. 
 
 " For God's sake, s;r, bring the light, if you won't do 
 anything else!" cried Vincent, wildly. **She has 
 fainted, I think — I can't see — it is so dark. For God's 
 sake, sir, the light at least ! " 
 
 The light at least ! As Father Ninian mechanically 
 took the red lamp from its niche he felt that he needed 
 no more light than those words, "he understands," had 
 sent into his very soul. Yes, he knew what love was. 
 But he knew also — it came home to him in a second — 
 that his love, even after all these years, differed not 
 at all from this girl's. He heard it in her voice — that 
 voice so strangely like that other voice — which he re- 
 membered — oh ! so well ! 
 
 "Take off the shade," said Vincent, "it makes every- 
 thing so — so red — you — you can't see the truth." He 
 shivered as he spoke. 
 
 But that first look at the girl had been enough for 
 Pidar Naiciyan. It had roused him, his apathy was gone. 
 
!! 
 
 MARGHERITA 
 
 243 
 
 ithlessly. 
 emember 
 
 brutally. 
 
 nt is pre- 
 in your 
 bt after 
 
 se me — 
 
 me devil 
 ; what 
 
 tl fired — 
 aila, my 
 
 y you — 
 
 o use in 
 ows what 
 guardian ? 
 in — " 
 age they 
 away, as 
 
 won't do 
 She has 
 •'or God's 
 
 hanically 
 ic needed 
 ids," had 
 love was. 
 second — 
 fered not 
 :e — that 
 ch he re- 
 
 :es every- 
 Lith." He 
 
 ough for 
 vas gone. 
 
 He thrust the lamp into Vincent's trembling hands 
 without a word, and his own steady ones — the hands 
 which had not touched their kind, except to heal body or 
 soul, since they had said farewell to a woman — took 
 up the task. 
 
 So for a few minutes there was silence, but for the old 
 pantaloon's ceaseless mumblings as he rocked himself 
 backwards and forwards. He had meant no harm, he 
 protested — he had conducted more affairs of the kind 
 to a decent ending than he could well remember — no 
 one could be more discreet — accidents would happen — 
 
 "She is shot through the lungs," said Father Ninian, 
 breaking the silence. "There is very little to be done 
 — I — I — " He would have said ''fear'' but for Vin- 
 cent's face of anguish. What right had he to feel sor- 
 row } — he, the man who had brought this about. ** Still, 
 I will try. Akbar ! bring the candles from the altar. 
 Stay ! she had better go tiiere. It will save time. You 
 two can carry her." 
 
 But Vincent had her in his arms, with a brief 
 "Where.?" 
 
 "The chapel — the lights are lit. Lay her on the 
 cushions before the altar. I will be with you again 
 directly." 
 
 When he returned from his room with lint and band- 
 ages she was lying there as he had directed, her long 
 red skirt trailing down the white steps. 
 
 "The candles, please, — the smaller ones, Akbar, — 
 and place them at her head. They will give me a better 
 light." 
 
 Vincent shivered again at the sight ; she looked already 
 dead, with those tall tapers about her. Ah ! v,^hat did it 
 all mean } Was he dreaming } How was it possible .•* 
 The wild improbability of it stunned him ; when not 
 three hours ago he had had a sherry-and-bitters before 
 dinner ! The curious irrelevance of his thoughts made 
 him feel as if he must wake soon. Yet there she lay. 
 Laila, wnom he loved ! 
 
 " Is she — is she — " he began. 
 
 • 1 
 
 ' ! 
 
 M. 
 
m 
 
 ;(i 
 
 244 
 
 r//F. f/OSTS OF T//E LORD 
 
 I '! 
 
 ': ■-•5 
 
 :i 
 
 
 
 1! 
 
 r 
 
 l^liij 
 
 M 
 
 Mki. . .. 
 
 " Not dead, if you mean that," replied Father Ninian 
 quietly. "But she will not live an hour." 
 
 There was no mincing matters between these two 
 men — nothing but the brutal truth ; yet this time it 
 was the old priest who held up his hand again it a pas- 
 sionate outcry. " Don't make a fuss. Be brave, at 
 least, and don't disturb her. She is coming to herself 
 
 again. 
 
 To herself certainly. To the old half-amused, half- 
 mysterious smile, us her eyes caught the tapers, the 
 lighted altar beyond, her lover kneeling at her side. 
 " It is the wedding, I suppose," she said — there was a 
 catch in her breath now — *• but why have they put the 
 candles like a bier } To save time, I suppose. But it 
 mixes things up ; and — " she gave a little impatient 
 sigh — •* Oh ! tell him to be quick, Romeo, for — for we 
 always meant to be married in the end — didn't we ? " 
 
 The words cut Vincent like a knife. Yes ! He had 
 meant it. Not always. Not till, even to one with his 
 past, the perfection of this idyll in the garden would 
 have suffered without that promise to himself. And 
 now, death should not cheat him, should not leave a 
 stain, a regret, on the one perfect romance of his life. 
 He stooped suddenly and kissed her ; kissed her with 
 more passion than he had ever kissed her before. 
 
 " It won't be long, Juliet ; he is just going to begin," 
 he whispered, then rose to his feet unsteadily. 
 
 This at least he could do for himself. And for her 1 
 A sob, almost of gratitude, of admiration, came to his 
 eyes as he realized that it would never, never — even if 
 she had lived — have mattered to her really. But it had 
 been a part of the play ; part of her as Juliet. So it 
 should be. His wild revolt at the sequence of improba- 
 bilities — for after all that idyll in the garden had been, 
 bar its environments, commonplace enough — which had 
 landed him in — in an Adelphi drama ! — (he could not 
 help the thought, though he despised it) — should give 
 way to this. The play should end with a wedding. 
 Juliet should have the * statue of pure gold' in the eyes of 
 
MARGHERITA 
 
 245 
 
 ,er Ninian 
 
 these two 
 is time it 
 in jt a pas- 
 brave, at 
 to herself 
 
 ised, half- 
 ipcrs, the 
 her side, 
 ere was a 
 iy put the 
 . But it 
 impatient 
 
 — for we 
 't we ? " 
 
 He had 
 with his 
 len would 
 elf. And 
 t leave a 
 f his life, 
 her with 
 re. 
 to begin," 
 
 1 for her } 
 me to his 
 
 — even if 
 But it had 
 et. So it 
 : improba- 
 had been, 
 which had 
 could not 
 lould give 
 
 wedding, 
 he eyes of 
 
 the world. He could ensure this by a word ; and the 
 word should be spoken. 
 
 He touched Father Ninian peremptorily on the 
 shoulder, as he bent, busy with his instruments. 
 
 " I want to speak to you. Hush ! she must not hear. 
 Father, you say she is dying. Well, I claim my right. 
 I am a Catholic — I have sinned — we will say nothing 
 about her — that lies between us. I wish to marry her 
 while I can. I ask it as my right, of you, a priest. Do 
 you understand } I ask you to marry us." 
 
 Ninian Bruce looked for an instant as if he could 
 have killed the man who stood before him ; then he 
 drew himself up, priest utterly. 
 
 " Have you the right to claim it } " 
 
 *• I claim it as a right," replied Vincent, fiercely. 
 "That is enough, surely." 
 
 " It is not enough. I will ask her." And Pidar 
 Nardyan knelt down beside the girl. *' My daughter," 
 he began, "Captain Bering tells me — " Then he gave 
 way — '^ Cara mia,'' he whispered, laying his hand on 
 hers, " tell me — I have never been unkind, surely — 
 tell me — your old guardian, who has loved, who loves 
 — must I marry you to — to Jiini ^ " 
 
 Laila looked into his face with a faintly-wondering 
 reply. " Must ! " she echoed dreamily. " It's just as he 
 likes, of course. I don't mind. I only want him — 
 where is he .-* " 
 
 " Fm here, sweetheart." Vincent knelt down again 
 and took her in his arms. 
 
 The faint querulousness left her voice. "That's 
 nice," she murmured. "Tell him to begin quickly, Vin- 
 cent, for I don't want to waste time. I want you — 
 you, yourself, and me — mc, myself — nothing else." 
 
 Father Ninian gave a sort of cry, and turned blindly 
 to the altar. If this was not Love, what was "i 
 
 Then, monotonously, his voice began the marriage 
 service. 
 
 "Have you a ring.^" he asked, when he came to 
 stand by those two, the girl supported in Vincent's arms. 
 
 I.. 
 
 • 
 
li} 
 
 iU- 
 
 246 
 
 r/fE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 The latter shook his head. " Go on without it," he said 
 sternly ; " she is failing fast." 
 
 But there was one on the old man's finger ; one that 
 had never left it since it had been put there by a saint 
 in Paradise. He took it off now, and gave it to the man 
 whom at that moment he hated and despised more than 
 any man on earth. 
 
 So, swiftly, the prayers went on, and old Akbar 
 paused in his rockings to say '^ Amen " with the others. 
 Ke had learnt thus much in these latter days of grace. 
 
 The last one came as a step resounded (lown the pas- 
 sage ; Lance Carlyon's step as he sought the light he 
 had seen — sought his Captain. He seemed to bring a 
 breath of fresh air into the passion-laden atmosphere, 
 a solid reality into the shadows. 
 
 "Vincent ! " he cried, as he caught sight of the scarlet 
 and gold. ** Thank God ! you're here. The troopers 
 have seized the Fort — " He paused suddenly, horror- 
 struck at what had caught his eye. " I beg your pardon 
 
 — I didn't know — is she — is she — hurt } — " 
 Vincent stood up suddenly. " Hush ! that has noth- 
 ing to do with it. Leave that to me. The troopers 
 have risen ? When } " 
 
 Lance, with his eyes still on that pitiful sight, shook 
 his head. 
 
 "There was a pistol-shot — you must have heard it ! " 
 
 " Heard it ! " echoed Vincent, wildly. " Yes ! I heard 
 it. Go on ! What then } " 
 
 " I don't know — I know nothing in this infernal 
 nightmare that's got hold of us all ! " cried Lance. " I 
 only know that if we don't get to the gaol before they do 
 
 — they've gone to set the prisoners free — there will be 
 the devil of a row. So you must come at once, Vincent 
 
 — you must come at once ! " 
 
 Captain Bering gave an irresolute look at the dying 
 girl. She had saved his life — he loved her — could he 
 leave her .■* Was anything worth that sacrifice } 
 
 " You must go ! " said a stern voice. It was Father 
 Ninian's, who had taken Vincent's place and was now 
 
 |L 
 
" he said 
 
 one that 
 3y a saint 
 
 the man 
 nore than 
 
 Id Akbar 
 le others, 
 of grace. 
 1 the pas- 
 light he 
 to bring a 
 nosphere, 
 
 he scarlet 
 
 troopers 
 
 y, horror- 
 
 ur pardon 
 
 has noth- 
 troopers 
 
 jht, shook 
 
 leard it ! " 
 ; ! I heard 
 
 ? infernal 
 ince. ** I 
 •e they do 
 re will be 
 ;, Vincent 
 
 the d}'ing 
 •could he 
 
 IS Father 
 was now 
 
 MARGHERITA 
 
 247 
 
 holding Laila in his arms. "You must go, Captain 
 Daring, and prevent worse from befalling ; if you can — 
 if you can ! " There was almost a triumph in his voice. 
 
 Lance looked from one to the other in sheer despair. 
 "Well! if you won't come, I'm off — oh! come along, 
 Vincent, and don't be a fool ! It — it isn't worth it ; it 
 never is ! " 
 
 Vincent Bering stood still irresolute. "You'll stay, 
 sir/' he said, "and — and look after — " 
 
 Father Ninian drew the unconscious girl closer to 
 him. "I will look after — Marghcrita!' 
 
 The last word came in a half whisper to himself and 
 his eyes met Vincent's with a curious dazed defiance. 
 The latter gave the defiance back, as their owner 
 .stooped for a second over Laila's indifferent face, and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " Good-by, Juliet^' he said ; and the last word came 
 also in a half whisper to himself. 
 
 The next moment he was following Lance down the 
 dim passage, full of a vague relief, and realizing for the 
 first time that the mist, which for the last half hour had 
 dimmed the reality of all things, was due, not to any 
 aberration of his brain, but to the simple fact that an 
 electrical dust-storm was in full blast. 
 
 He realized it with relief. That was at least real, 
 tangible. 
 
 Almost too much so ; and as the hot wind, charged 
 with those aspiring atoms of earth, met him fiercely, he 
 realized also that the storm would fight against him in 
 his efforts to prevent worse from happening. If, in- 
 deed, anything could be worse than what had happened ; 
 worse than Laila's — 
 
 He broke off in his thought, incredulous. It could 
 not be true. He would come back to find her better — 
 well! — 
 
 But that other dream was true. His men had risen. 
 The one thing necessary, therefore, was to get to the 
 gaol before any decided action took place ; and this he 
 realised still more clearly from Lance's curt explanation 
 
 «■ I 
 
 'I; 
 
m 
 
 
 I 
 
 s ^ 
 
 '■■■ t * 
 
 248 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 as they ran down the river steps. Once there, the sight 
 of the canoe he had left suggested the feasibility of 
 getting to the gaol in it. His personal influence might 
 avail. If that fai^:id, he would at least be able to save 
 time by choosing a suitable place for the raft to come 
 ashore. The great thing was to be on the spot, to be 
 within reach of action at once ; to wait for the raft 
 meant needless delay. 
 
 So, a minute after, the faint splash of his paddle was 
 lost in the rising hum of the storm, and Lance was left 
 looking anxiously for sound or sight of the raft, which, 
 if all had gone well, should by now have started. 
 
 But neither came, so, seeing from the light he had 
 snatched up as he passed through the balcony that the 
 air was growing darker, more impenetrable than ever, 
 he shoved off his strange craft, to wait further out in 
 the stream where there was less chance of the raft pass- 
 ing him unseen, unheard. 
 
 For this reason also, he paddled up along the wall a 
 bit into the faint glow of light which showed still from 
 the arches of the chapel. And as he lay in it, his ears 
 and eyes strained for the least sound, he could hear as a 
 kind of background to that muffled drumming of the 
 storm, the sound of the pilgrims chanting as they waited 
 for the dawn. The dawn which would bring — what.-* 
 Who could tell } 
 
 The sound of other prayers, echoing from the chapel^ 
 made him shake his head, feeling that it was hopeless to 
 look forward — or backward for that matter ! Why had 
 Roshan shot the girl } — if he had ! And why had Pidar 
 Narayan called her Margherita, and Vincent called her 
 Juliet } 
 
 The whole thing was exactly as he had said — an in- 
 fernal nightmare! 
 
 Then a faint sound in front of him made his strong 
 arms sweep the paddle through the stream as he shot 
 into the darkness in search of the raft ; in search of 
 Erda. 
 
 Not that she needed him, really. The memory of 
 
 
.■1 MOXOrOLY 
 
 249 
 
 the sight 
 ibility of 
 ice might 
 I to save 
 
 to come 
 )ot, to be 
 
 the raft 
 
 iddle was 
 i was left 
 ft, which, 
 d. 
 
 t he had 
 that the 
 tian ever, 
 er out in 
 raft pass- 
 he wall a 
 still from 
 :, his ears 
 hear as a 
 ig of the 
 ey waited 
 
 — what ? 
 
 le chapelj 
 )peless to 
 Why had 
 had Pidar 
 :alled her 
 
 — an in- 
 
 ,is strong 
 ) he shot 
 search of 
 
 emory of 
 
 her in that red-and-gold mess jacket above her wedding 
 dress, giving orders to the men squarely, came back to 
 make him smile. 
 
 God bless her ! She could do well enough without 
 him. That was one comfort. And Dillon could hold 
 his own too, without much help, for a time — that was 
 another ; for what with this and that, help was bound to 
 be over-long in comin< 
 
 ^g- 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A MONOPOLY 
 
 Lance Carlvon was right in trusting Dr. Dillon's 
 power of doing without help until Providence chose to 
 send some. This was the easier task, in that he had 
 made up his mind deliberately beforehand as to what 
 his best course of action would be should an alarm of 
 this sort occur. Therefore that imperative kling-kling 
 of the telegraph bell which roused him in a second from 
 his bed, where, ready dressed for any such emergency, 
 he was sleeping the sleep of the just, found him alert, 
 prepared for anything and everything. 
 
 So it has come, he thought, as he hastily wired back 
 the com.prchcnsive reply, ^^ All rig/it^ await yon'' He 
 felt as a doctor does when a dangerous symptom which 
 he has foreseen as a possibility, shov s itself. He had 
 been on the lookout for this for days, but as the dawn 
 would end the period during which it might be expected, 
 he had, as in the outbreak of the cholera, had hopes that 
 danger was over. His last thought, as he slept, had been 
 this ; he woke to find that the complication must bo 
 faced. Woke with a strong regret, but a stronger in- 
 stinct of fight. So he slipped his feet into his shoe:', 
 jammed his big mushroom hat on his head out of pure 
 habit, and so, armed cap-a-pie, with a brain quick to 
 work, and a body ready to follow and obey, he ran 
 
 I 'I. 
 
'B 
 
 h- ''■ 
 
 250 
 
 r//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 across the sardy road to the Smiths' bungalow, reaHzing 
 as he did so that a dust-storm was just beginning. That 
 would delay both attack and relief. On the whole, ihis 
 would be an advantage, since, once things were secure, 
 half an hour or so would make no difference in the latter; 
 whereas, he wanted every minute he could get now for 
 preparation. 
 
 He had not warned Eugene Smith of his fears. There 
 was never any use alarming people by mere probabilities, 
 unless by so doing you could forearm them. And this 
 was not the case here; since the safest — in fact the 
 only — place of refuge for Mrs. Smith and the child, 
 should trouble arise, was the semi-fortified roof above 
 the gate of the gaol ; and that he knew to be ready for 
 use. He had, therefore, only to wake them, as quietly 
 as might be, so as not to give the alarm to the servants. 
 Fortune favoured him in this ; for, just outside the 
 verandah, he ran full tilt upon Eugene himself, tall, 
 gaunt, in his sleeping-suit, carrying a roll of bedding on 
 his back like a snail's shell. The heat of the evening had 
 enticed him to sleep outside, as he preferred, a la Robin- 
 son Crusoe, and the dust-storm was sending him in. 
 
 "Hello, Dillon!" he cried, "what's up.'' — nothing 
 wrong with my wife or the child — I hope — No! — " 
 he gave a sigh of relief, " then it's the beastly dust-storm 
 disturbed you, I suppose. Isn't it sickening to think 
 how many times in the next six months we shall have 
 to take up our beds and walk." 
 
 "H'm! Hope I shall have the chance," replied the 
 doctor, dryly, recovering his breath. " No, it isn't the 
 storm. They're going to try a row, Smith. Just had 
 a wire from the Fort. There's a plot on, to come here 
 and set the prisoners free, and that's dangerous, ^o, 
 till the troops come, I think you'd better bring 
 Mrs. Smith and Gladys to the gate — it's the safest 
 place, and I've got everything ready. It mayn't be 
 much ; but the devils, whoever they are, might turn 
 and rend you — especially if they fail with me." 
 
 Eugene Smith had dropped his snail-shell and sat 
 
, realizing 
 ig. That 
 ^hole, ihis 
 re secure, 
 the latter; 
 ;t now for 
 
 rs. There 
 )babilities, 
 
 And this 
 n fact the 
 the child, 
 roof above 
 I ready for 
 as quietly 
 e servants, 
 utside the 
 mself, tall, 
 )edding on 
 vening had 
 I la Robin- 
 lim in. 
 — nothing 
 -No! — " 
 dust-storm 
 jr to think 
 
 shall have 
 
 replied the 
 
 it isn't the 
 
 Just had 
 
 come here 
 
 A MONOPOLY 
 
 251 
 
 srous. 
 
 oO, 
 
 tter bring 
 the safest 
 
 mayn't be 
 
 might turn 
 me." 
 
 ell and sat 
 
 down on it, aghast, in surprise ; but he was up again 
 before the doctor finished. 
 
 *• By Jove ! " he said rapidly, calmly as the doctor 
 himself. ** That's a taking up one's bed with a ven- 
 geance. I'll have 'em both ready in a jiffy — anything 
 else .? " 
 
 "No. I'll rummage round till you return — one for- 
 gets things to the last, sometimes. And I shall want 
 your Remington and such like — I know where to 
 find 'em." 
 
 A moment after he was striking a match to light the 
 tall floor-lamp in Mrs. Smith's drawing-room. She had 
 turned it out herself a few hours before, thinking, as she 
 looked round the room, full of soft rose-shaded light, 
 how pretty, how cosey it was. It had the same air 
 of refined security now. Everything, down to a copy of 
 the last * Qiiccii ' lying on an inlaid table by her favour- 
 ite chair, was so exactly what one would have expected 
 to find in her room* ; the room of a delicate, cultivated, 
 civilized, society woman. 
 
 And now } 
 
 Now the delicacy, the culture, the civilization, the 
 society, and the security belonging to them, had been 
 invc.ded in an instant. By what.-* 
 
 The dust— you could almost see it springing into 
 the air in these sandy stretches — had already settled 
 thick over the dainty furniture, and as Dr. Dillon, stand- 
 ing by the table in the pink glow of the lamp, asked him- 
 self the question, he yielded to the imperious fascination 
 which a smooth sand-surface has for humanity. But he 
 did not write his name upon it ; only the idle answer to 
 the question. 
 
 " God knows." 
 
 The writing lay upon the table beside the latest fash- 
 ions, staring up into the pink paper shade, after George 
 Dillon had passed rapidly to Eugene's office to choose 
 this, that, and the other, and make th< m into a bundle 
 with a table-cloth. 
 
 When he returned to the drawing-room, Muriel Smith 
 
 > , 11 
 
252 
 
 THE irorrs of the lord 
 
 ill 
 
 ■I 
 
 was standing by that writing in the sand : a fragile figure 
 in a blue dressing-gown, all frilled and embroidered like 
 the pictures in the paper. She looked more forlorn than 
 frightened ; forlorn and pathetic. 
 
 " Is it warm enough } " said the doctor, as he entered. 
 ** Your dress, 1 mean. There's a storm on, and it gen- 
 erally brings rain." 
 
 " It is flannel," she answered, and he nodded. 
 
 There was no excitement, no heroics. Only that. 
 That, and the writing on the sand, and her forlornness — 
 the forlornness of a delicate Dresden shepherdess set to 
 drive a flock of real sheep to the shambles. But the 
 Heedlessness, the pity of it, made Dr. Dilion set his 
 teeth. 
 
 " Eugene will be here directly with Gladys," she said. 
 *' We thought it best not to wake her, and he said we 
 had better start at once ; for you see I can't walk nearly 
 so fast as he does." 
 
 There was no tr^.ce of fear in her voice, but there was 
 none of resistance either, and she turned at the door to 
 look back with an almost reproachful acquiescence. 
 
 "Poor room," she said softly, "it seems so strange — 
 such a pity; but I suppose it can't be helped." She 
 turned to the darkness again with a little shiver, and 
 went on, "Vincent sent the wire, I suppose." 
 
 "I didn't ask," replied Dr. Dillon curtly; then, 
 repenting him, added, " I suppose so. He will be here 
 directly I expect. And — and we will all take care of you 
 and Gladys, as long as we can. You know that ; and 
 we can't do more — can we "i " 
 
 She smiled quite tenderly. " Of course you will. 
 And I am really not a bit afraid — except of being in 
 the way." 
 
 She seemed to accept the necessity of this ; perhaps 
 rightly. For the storm itself was no joke in these 
 desert stretches, where the sand rose in choking clouds, 
 yet left enough to make each step a toil. Muriel 
 stumbled along breathlessly, but so slowly that, when 
 her husband joined them, striding along with Gladys, 
 
A MOXOPOLY 
 
 253 
 
 r> 
 
 shiver, and 
 
 still sleeping, wrapped in a blanket in his arms, the 
 doctor bade them come at their leisure and wait until 
 he gave the si.i;nal before entering, then ran on swiftly 
 to the gaol. For there was no time to lose ; though, on 
 the other hand, there was very little to be done. The 
 less the better, if his plan was to be successful ; since 
 that involved the utmost quiet, and the keeping of the 
 prisoners from all knowledge of what was going on as 
 long as possible. 
 
 As he faced the choking darkness, the hot blasts of 
 causeless wind, blowing all ways at once, George Dillon 
 reckoned up his chances fairly. The storm would cer- 
 tainly make it easier to keep such knowledge from those 
 within, and make it more difficult for those without to 
 establish communication with the former. So far, good. 
 On the other hand, no amount of the light at his com- 
 mand would enable him to see, even from his coign of 
 vantage on the gateway roof, what was going on, either 
 outside or inside. And darkness was the . 'ggers' best 
 friend ; while digging was tl"^ recognized enemy of mud 
 walls. Especially of those aiside walls wliich divided 
 the gaol into sections. Y': t the best, the only chance 
 of keeping the prisoners quiet, lay in preserving their 
 segregation into companies. 
 
 For the gaol was of the cart-wheel pattern. That is, 
 a huge circle of outside wall, thick as an earthwork, 
 the felloes of the wheel, as it were. Then a small 
 central cylinder of brick, like a lime kiln, the nave of 
 the wheel, as it were. Between these two the spokes. 
 Spokes of twelve feet high mud wall, dividing the whole 
 into seven wedges of prison, absolutely distinct, blank, 
 aperture-less, save for one heavily stanchioned door in 
 the apex of each wedge, leading into the central tower. 
 Exit or entry was therefore impossible to six of these 
 wedges, except through the tower; that is the citadel, 
 the key, as it were, of the gaol proper. 
 
 The seventh wedge, however, gave, at its wider end, 
 on the entrance-gate, which was a square, semi-fortified 
 building, pierced by a tunnel, gated at each end, and 
 
 ' il 
 
254 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 :i il ' 
 
 !^ t: 
 
 :(:i 
 
 il? 
 
 further protected by an outside yard, or roofless porch, 
 also gated. The inmost of these three gates opened on 
 to a small courtyard, and this narrowed again into an 
 alley which gave access to the central tower. Briefly 
 theji the whole gaol consisted of six wedges opening, by 
 a ''.oor in their narrow end, into the central cylinder ; 
 and a seventh wedge split in two by an alley leading 
 between high mud walls from the gateway to that 
 central tower ; the key to the position. 
 
 In the two halves of the split wedge lay the warders' 
 barracks, the solitary cells, the cook rooms, the hospi- 
 tal ; and the entry to these was by a door on either side 
 of the little courtyard, just beyond the inner gate. 
 From the corner of this, also, rose the outside stair 
 leading to the roof of the stpiare, brick gateway. 
 
 Thus the fifteen hundred prisoners were broken up 
 into companies of about two hundred each, and were abso- 
 lutely without possibility of communication so long as 
 the central tower was in the hands of authority. Unless 
 there was time to undermine the mud walls, and tools, 
 also, wherewith to work. Of these, however, there 
 were none in the gaol. Nothing, even, that could be 
 used to take their place, except in that seventh section 
 which held the executive of the gaol ; and there Dr. 
 Dillon meant to leave no hands to use them, if he could 
 compass it. 
 
 As he pulled up to regain his breath before walking 
 up to the gate and giving the countersign, the whole 
 place lay quiet and dark. So far, good. There was the 
 risk, however, of the plot being known, and of the sentry 
 refusing him entrance. It was not, however, and the 
 next moment, calmly as if he was merely on one of his 
 not infrequent rounds of unexpected night inspections. 
 Dr. Dillon passed from the outer porch to the tunnel, 
 and told the sentry at the inner gate to light the lamp 
 in the little office room to one side. 
 
 " Call the superintendent," he said to the first man, 
 "and you can tell him I am going to inspect the solitary 
 cells." 
 
less porch, 
 opened on 
 lin into an 
 :r. Briefly 
 pening, by 
 1 cylinder ; 
 ey leading 
 ly to that 
 
 le warders' 
 the hospi- 
 either side 
 
 nner gate. 
 
 tside stair 
 
 ay. 
 
 broken up 
 were abso- 
 
 so long as 
 
 ty. Unless 
 and tools, 
 
 :ver, there 
 
 t could be 
 
 iith section 
 there Dr. 
 
 if he could 
 
 )re walking 
 
 the whole 
 
 ire was the 
 
 the sentry 
 
 IV, and the 
 
 one of his 
 
 nspections, 
 
 the tunnel, 
 
 it the lamp 
 
 first man, 
 :he solitary 
 
 /I MONOPOLY 
 
 255 
 
 He added this because he knew it would give time, 
 since the superintendent would be sure to give a private 
 look round, first, to see all was in order, and remove 
 possible traces of tobacco opium, — those luxuries 
 out of which so much moi ey can be made by gaol 
 officials. 
 
 No sooner, however, had the first sentry gone through 
 the door to the left section, than he sent the second one 
 on a similar message to the right, where the hospital lay. 
 Then, the coast being clear, he rapidly unlocked the 
 private safe in the office which held his set of keys in 
 case of Occidents, and locked both the right and 'eft 
 doors. I jc:re for a moment, therefore, from interrup- 
 tion, he mn .utside, saw that the tool rooms, etc., were 
 closed, gave the signal to Eugene Smith, hurried the 
 refugees up the stairs ; and then, after unlocking the two 
 doors again on his way back to the office, sat down in 
 his ul al chair and beG:an to look over a reirister. 
 
 He was engaged in this calm occupation when, a 
 minute or two after, the native superintendent — a big, 
 dignified person, in a blatant undress due largely to his 
 bulk — arrived breathless. 
 
 ^^ Darogah-jce !'' began Dr. Dillon, instantly, and the 
 mere tone of the title made the man quiver, " I've had 
 constantly to complain of the tobacco and opium smug- 
 gling that is going on among the warders, and I mean to 
 stop it. I've had information to-night which will clinch 
 the business. So take the night guard, rouse every 
 warder, bring everyone here, even those on guard in 
 the sections — the hospital orderlies — everyone, in fact, 
 who is free to go out of the gaol. They are to come at 
 once. No time allowed for arrangements. If they are 
 not all here in five minutes I shall think you are in 
 league with the smugglers." 
 
 The darogah' s fat flesh shook, yet he winked as he 
 went off. If the ^ozlox-saliib expected to find any- 
 thing in this fashion except, maybe, a smell of the for- 
 bidden drugs, he was mistaken. On such a night, too, 
 when the dust was in everyone's eyes. Well ! it might 
 
256 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 illi! 
 
 have been worse ; for, th()u<;h be knew nothing defi- 
 nitely of any plot, he could not fail to know that there 
 was more to excite men in the gaol, that night, than 
 tobacco or opium ! So he went about his summons with 
 a sigh of relief, and before the five minutes were over 
 had his posse of minor officials together, including ;i file 
 of unfettered prisoners, with good conduct badges, who 
 were used as gang leaders. He himself finally coming 
 down the alley, with a stupendous bunch of keys, followed 
 by the little group of night warders he had collected 
 from .he other sections. 
 
 " All here } " asked Dr. Dillon, lighting a cigar. " The 
 register, please, darogah. They will answer to their 
 names, pass out through the wicket into the porch, and 
 stay there until I've tallied the lot. I'm going to have 
 iX. pakka^ this time." 
 
 Some of the men grinned, some looked uneasy, and 
 some few frowned ; but all obeyed, though they cuddled 
 themselves into their blankets as they slipped through 
 the wicket, and faced the whirling, swirling storm in 
 the open porch, the doors of which were barred, not 
 solid. 
 
 " Kishen Rao.?" came Dr. Dillon's voice, after a long 
 series of names, followed by brief ^^ presents .'" and swift 
 exits. There was no answer. He turned to the darogah 
 for explanation. 
 
 "Absent ! " explained the latter, timorously. 
 
 A little more decision might have saved him the quick 
 question, " With or without leave } " 
 
 ^^ Hiizoor !'' palpitated the fat man, "he went out 
 to bathe in the Holy Pool by permission this morning. 
 He is of the utmost sobriety. A Brahmin, promoted 
 by your Honour to, as your Honour knows, general head 
 ward-keeper. He is not to be suspected." 
 
 "Leave till 5 p.m.," commented the doctor, looking 
 over the register. " Mark him down absent without 
 leave. Go on." 
 
 So, rapidly, the last man ducked under the wicket. 
 
 ^ Certain. 
 
A MONOPOLY 
 
 257 
 
 lions with 
 
 " Is that the lot ? " 
 
 " Everyone, Protector of the Poor," protested the 
 burly official, with smiles. ** The prison is empty of 
 the unfettered." 
 
 " Then let it remain so for the present," said Dr. Dil- 
 lon, coolly, as he stepped forward, closed the wicket, slid 
 the bolt to its place, and turned on the daroga/i, all in 
 one swift sequence. 
 
 " Now, then ! " he went on sharply, " you and I have 
 to settle a bit of business. Vour keys — " he took out 
 a revolver, and laid it on the table beside him — "every 
 key you have; duplicates, triplicates, everything! I'm 
 going to keep this gaol myself for a bit. Do you under- 
 stand .? " 
 
 '^ Hiizoor !'' bleated the man, helplessly, putting his 
 big bunch on the table. 
 
 Dr. Dillon smiled sarcastically. ** Won't do, my friend. 
 I vv'ant the lot by the list. Where's the register } " 
 
 When it came he ticked them off rapidly by it, 
 " Sections B and C, warder's duplicate ; where's that } " 
 he asked. 
 
 The official grew green. ** Kishen Rao — " he began 
 — ** but he is of the utmost — " 
 
 Dr. Dillon turned on him like lightning. ** You're a 
 damned scoundrel, sir ! What else is missing.-*" He 
 ran over the rest swiftly, then looked up suddenly with 
 a scowl that made the man literally collapse. " So 
 that's it, is it } Duplicate of B and C sections missing, 
 and duplicate of the alley doors. A pretty little game !" 
 he laughed sardonically. 
 
 "Kishen Rao — " gurgled the darogaJi — "by your 
 Honour's promotion — of the utmost — " 
 
 " But it won't play, my friend ; it won't play ! " went 
 on the doctor, with a curious elation. " I hold the thir- 
 teenth trump, now. You go in there," — he pointed 
 to an inner store-room behind the slip of an office ; a 
 windowless place, pitch dark, where the clothes in which 
 the prisoners arrived a^- aited their release in piles — • 
 '* and thank your stars you're in such good quarters." 
 
 ' i 
 
258 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 il 
 
 H 
 
 All hut that brief order, " You go in there," was spoken 
 in English, as a sort of outlet for the intense satisfac- 
 tion which was filling him at his own success, — so far. 
 
 The next minute he had turned the key on the daivgah, 
 and was up the stairs calling Eugene Smith in a low 
 voice to come down and help to bolt and bar ; but to 
 come as quietly as he could. 
 
 " I've got rid of the lot," he said joyously, after he 
 had explained the position in a few rapid words ; •• there 
 isn't a soul in this section except the solitary cellers — 
 who, of course, are ironed — a few sick people, and the 
 assistant surgeon ; but baboo-jce is an agnostic, and is so 
 confoundedly afraid of the possibility of a future life that 
 he may be trusted to go into green collapse if he hears 
 a shot fired." 
 
 So, rapidly, the two men set to work, undisturbed by 
 more than a protesting '^ Htizoor, what shall we do}'' 
 from the posse outside the first gate, and a low knocking 
 at the wicket. 
 
 There were double doors here, however, and of the 
 sort which it would need time to negotiate, without 
 powder. 
 
 " They will hold out for an hour, at least," said the 
 doctor ; *' then there will be the inner one, and after 
 that the alley door — unless — " he remembered Kishen 
 Rao, and frowned. That was the only weak spot in his 
 armour. *' We can count on an hour and a half, at least," 
 he continued, carefully allowing for the worst ; ** longer, 
 perhaps. Now then. Smith, for the toughest job ! I've 
 got a couple of crowbars here. Those first six steps — 
 eight if we can — of the stairs must come f^own. There 
 aren't enough of us to hold them." 
 
 So, for fully a quarter of an hour, no sound was heard 
 above the curious vibration of the storm except the 
 grinding and crushing of the bricks as they were rapidly 
 eased out, one by one, from the mud mortar. The light 
 of one of the office lamps, set on the ground, showed by 
 that time a sheer drop of eight or ten feet, and Eugene 
 Smith, working above, jammed his crowbar into a crevice 
 
THE SEARcii-r.i(;//T 
 
 250 
 
 of the wall against which the steps cliini; like a swallow's 
 nest, and gave Dr. Dillon, who had been working below, 
 a rope and a hand up. 
 
 The latter set down the keys and the lamp he had 
 brought up with him, and deliberately dustetl the knees 
 of his trousers. 
 
 "There, that's done," he said. "Couldn't be better." 
 
 "Yes, it seems pretty safe," assented Eugene Smith, 
 a trifle dubiously. 
 
 " Safe ! " echoed the doctor, enthusiastically, " I haven't 
 felt so safe for the last fortnight. Hullo! what's that.'*" 
 
 That was a sudden bugle-call. The doctor's face fell. 
 "What, already ! I didn't expect relief so soon. How- 
 ever, it can't be helped. I'll just go up and tell Dcring 
 what I've done, so that he may be prepared for the 
 locked out ones ! " 
 
 He took the light in his hand and crossed to the 
 outer parapet. 
 
 " Hello, Dering ! " he began, peering down. Then a 
 couple of shots whizzed past his head and he ducked. 
 At the same moment, as if roused by the concussion, 
 the first crackling thunderclap of the dust-storm, sound- 
 ing muffled through the thick air, followed like a roll-call, 
 and reverberated dully, sluggishly, through the black 
 darkness. 
 
 When it passed. Dr. Dillon's voice rose quietly. 
 
 " There will be no relief. Smith ; those are the troopers, 
 and they're against us. So now — we've got it to our- 
 selves. Smith, for some time." 
 
 There was a certain satisfaction at the monopoly in 
 his voice. . 
 
 ;u 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE SEARCH-LIGHT 
 
 The sound of thos< wo shots greeted Vincent Dering 
 as, after infinite difificiuty, owing to the darkness, the fit- 
 ful gusts of wind, and the sand-banks, he drew up the 
 
 !m 
 
v--^ 
 
 260 
 
 TTrr. HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 % 
 
 III 
 
 i '\ 
 
 ii» 
 
 canoe against what he knew must be the high bank 
 below the off-tal'c of the canal. 
 
 It had only been by trusting the stream to guide him, 
 and refraining at times from the use of his paddle, that 
 he had managed to steer his way at all. 
 
 So he knew he was kite ; felt, indeed, that he must be 
 too late to use his influence with the men, and yet, 
 despite this knowledge, a keen disappointment filled 
 him when those shots proved him to be so ; since by 
 long experience he knew that once open resistance 
 began, there could be no more question of v/ords. 
 
 What then, was there for him to do.'* 
 
 If he, in his light canoe, helped, wherever possible, 
 by every atom of strength his arms possessed, had taken 
 so long to come down that mile or two of stream, 
 the raft could not possibly arrive for another half 
 hour. 
 
 He could not sit still for half an hour; he felt, indeed, 
 as if he could not sit still for half a minute. A passion 
 to act, to sweep away the past, to forget, was u{)on him. 
 He had had time during his strange journey — so often 
 idle perforce — to realize his position ; time to piece the 
 still stranger events preceding his journey into a reason- 
 able sequence ; so that he had, by now, arrived at a 
 fairly accurate guess as to the cause of much, that, 
 when it happened, had seemed causeless. 
 
 For instance, Laila's dress, '^ given Jicr by soineoiiey 
 That, joined to the knowledge that she was connected 
 with the late Nawab's family, of which Roshan Khan 
 might with justice claim the headship, had brought the 
 latter's action within the bounds of credibility. Jealousy ! 
 revenge ! these were potent causes. Laila, then, must 
 have been playing with Roshan's pretensions. Playing 
 like a child with a toy ; playing, rather, like a woman who 
 hesitates at nothing for the sake of the man she loves. 
 And she had hesitated at nothing ; not even at this, to 
 give him pleasure, to make things match with his pas- 
 sion ! The thought, the remembrance, made him for a 
 moment feel inclined to liing up his hands, and let 
 
THE SEARCH-LIGHT 
 
 261 
 
 the canoe take him where it chose ; take him down 
 stream utterly. Then a half choking, yet wholly 
 strenuous desire to escape from the whole story, a 
 wild instinctive effort for a more wholesome atmosphere, 
 like that of a drowning man for a breath of fresh air, 
 had sent the canoe bounding on Jiis way ; his way and none 
 other's, in swift obedience. With a rush, he had grasped 
 that there was more in life — that he had allowed himself 
 to be a slave ! But that was past, — he would shake him- 
 self together — he would forget the thraldom of sex — and 
 he would forget the past. 
 
 Yet, as he cast about in his mind for the best method 
 of applying the half hour's leisure, the remembrance of 
 a woman came to him, as if to mock at his resolution. 
 Muriel, and dear little Gladys who called him " Derin' 
 darling " ; where were they } His eyes grew soft in the 
 remembrance, stern at the probability of their being in 
 danger. Why had he not thought of it before .'* How 
 could he ever have paused, wondering what to do ? 
 
 He set the red light, which he had taken from the 
 fateful balcony, carefully in the canoe — though, even 
 should some gust of the rising wind not blow the light 
 out, it could scarcely be of any use in that outer dark- 
 ness — as a signal to the raft should it, by an off chance, 
 drift past in his absence, then struck across the sand in 
 the direction in which he knew the Smiths' bungalow 
 must lie ; that was, a little to the rear of the gaol. 
 
 The storm, as he faced it, was so fierce that the doubt 
 rose inevitably if an unwieldy raft could make way 
 against it. If so, then there would be no help. The 
 only thing would be to defend himself and others un.il 
 the end came ; the end which would at least end the 
 past. 
 
 He had almost to feel his way, the darkness was so 
 intense. It was a relief to stumble against something 
 which he knew must be the low mud fence of Muriel's 
 garden ; that garden in which she tried to defy Provi- 
 dence, and rear English flowers. He knew his feet 
 must be crushing her treasures as he passed on towards 
 

 262 
 
 77/£ HOSTS OF TriE LORD 
 
 Hi 
 
 a faint glow, a red glow. But everything that was not 
 the blackness of outer darkness to-night seemed red — 
 blood red. 
 
 A minute after, with a vast relief at the silence, the 
 solitude, he was in Muriel's pretty drawing-room. The 
 pink-shaded lamp was still alight, showing red through 
 the fog of dust. He passed to it instinctively, and as 
 he did so, noticed the writing on the table. Rut many 
 an earth-atom had fallen on that confession of ignorance 
 since George Dillon had made it idly, and so, as Vin- 
 cent Bering bent quickly to see if by chance it was 
 some message left for those who might come after, he 
 also had to frown and say, *' God knows ! " 
 
 Was it possible that Eugene and his wife were still 
 asleep } The doors stood open, but that was to be 
 expected at that season of the year, unless someone had 
 been awake to close them against the storm. He must 
 make sure, however. 
 
 But there was no one to be found in any of the rooms. 
 It occurred to him, then, that they must have taken 
 refuge in the gaol, and he told himself he was a fool not 
 to have thought of that before. Dillon would, of course, 
 have seen to that. He, Vincent, might have remem- 
 bered so much, at least ; might have remembered that 
 he himself was not the only slave. Then he gave 
 an odd, bitter little laugh. Was it never possible to 
 get beyond a woman's apron-strings } 
 
 And here he was wasting time over the question, 
 when he ought to be doing something better. 
 
 But what? 
 
 Go back and wait for the raft, or on to the gaol } 
 There was a big tamarisk tree at the end of the garden. 
 Only two days before he had poiuicd it out to Muriel 
 and said that an active man accustomed to trapeze work 
 might swing himself from it astride the high mud wall 
 of the gaol, and so gain the roof of the gate. Dillon had 
 denied it ; and she had said, laughingly, that no one 
 ever tried to break into a gaol, only out ol one. 
 
 Curious ; still, if it had only been light, it would have 
 
THE SEARCII-UGIIT 
 
 263 
 
 been worth the risking. But it was impossible now in 
 the dark. 
 
 So, suddenly, a remembrance came to him. The 
 search-light ! 
 
 Was it only last night he had been dining here, in 
 this house, after bringing Muriel home from the Mission, 
 where they had seen that huge ray piercing the shadows } 
 Was it only yesterday that he had listened to luigene's 
 lamentations over his unused electricity, which was 
 sure, he said, to vanish into space from his rude con- 
 trivances. Was it only yesterday that, in obedience to 
 that pathetic look of martyrdom on Muriel's face, which 
 still seemed — to one part of Vincent's nature — to call 
 for instant sympathy, he had, to appease the honest 
 inventor, shown an interest in search-lights which was 
 purely fictitious, and learned a variety of facts about 
 buttons and stop-cocks } And had all this happened 
 yesterday on purpose that to-day, when he was in need 
 of light — 
 
 He was up on the roof with the thought. If only 
 the blessed thing had go enough for that ! As he picked 
 his way rapidly through the li'-ter, three or four cig; r- 
 ends, a half-finished whiskey-and-soda, seen by the flash 
 of the hurricane lantern he had sought out and lit, told 
 him that Eugene must have been at work over his new 
 toy till late. So much the better for his chance — for 
 everybody's chance ; since a signal like that might make 
 all the difference to the raft ; all the difference to Dillon 
 in the gaol — 
 
 George Dillon was, indeed, beginning to realize this 
 himself. His almost triumphant mood had passed ; it 
 had come home to him that the unexpected revelation 
 of the troopers' complicity in the plot, whatever it was, 
 had changed 'he whole aspect of affairs. Now, there 
 was no question of keeping the gaol quiet until help 
 should arrive. He was face to face, now, with the fact 
 that he must not rely on any aid at all. What had 
 really happened, he could not guess. For all he knew, 
 
i 
 
 iid^' 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 ■ ■ /. 
 
 
 
 
 
 >.,/ 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^*^^' ^C-^ 
 
 26v. 
 
 r//,^" rosTs OF y-'- zct?/) 
 
 the troopers and pioticcrs might have risen and killed 
 their officers, killed ^ ver3'body who would be likely to 
 help. His aim, now, was to sell his life, and — and hers 
 — as dearly as he could ; but in the dead darkness, like 
 a rat in a hole, what could be done ? Except \vait — 
 wait for the walls to be dug through, the gates to be 
 mined, that poor eight or ten feet drop at the foot of the 
 stairs scaled. Then a rush, still in the dark, and — the 
 greatest Darkness of all ! 
 
 Not even the chance of a shot ; and he had plenty of 
 ammunition. It would at least have passed the time 
 to take pot-shots at the devils ; and though these would 
 have brought retaliation, there would have been no need 
 for exposure. The parapet walls were high enough, and 
 properly loopholcd. 
 
 So, for a few minutes, he sat almost sullenly beside 
 those, for whom aioiiC he now felt responsible, in the little 
 turret, which, as h always the case in India, /ose at one 
 corner of the flat roof giving fair shelter for the time. 
 In his first hurried recognition, which had come with the 
 shots, that not help but attack lay outside, he had blown 
 out his light, fearing lest Eugene Smith might also be 
 exposed to similar attentions ; so it was pitch dark. 
 And the now almost constant reverberations, which 
 •eemed to send the sand-laden air in pulse-beats on your 
 lace, deadened all other sounds into vague confusion. 
 But he knew that the warders within the porch, the 
 troopers without, were trying to force the barred gate. 
 That would not take long ; though the two doors block- 
 ing the ends of the tunnel would be a tougher job. 
 
 And he heard, closer at hand, a sleepy whimper from 
 the child, a low comforting from a mother's voice. 
 
 The sound made him set his teeth. 
 
 God ! if there was only light to kill withal. 
 
 And then, in a second, as if by a miracle, it came. A 
 great flood of shining light, contemptuous, at that short 
 distance, even of that outer darkness. For it was 
 electricity against electricity ; a house divided against 
 itself. 
 
Si 
 
 THE SEARCH-LIGHT 
 
 j65 
 
 i I 
 
 m and killed 
 1 be likely to 
 d — and hers 
 larkness, like 
 'fcept \vait — 
 I gates to be 
 le foot of the 
 "k, and — the 
 
 lad plenty of 
 sed the time 
 L these would 
 been no need 
 I enough, and 
 
 llenly beside 
 e, in the little 
 I, ."ose at one 
 for the time, 
 ome with the 
 le had blown 
 night also be 
 pitch dark. 
 Ltions, which 
 )eats on your 
 je confusion. 
 e porch, the 
 : barred gate. 
 1 doors block- 
 tier job. 
 /him per from 
 i voice. 
 
 , it came. A 
 at that short 
 For it was 
 ided against 
 
 The first thing he saw by it Wc.s ihiit fragile figure in 
 its dainty blue frills, a child's i^okien head ; and so, 
 naturally, the next instant fouiia bis hand on a rifle. 
 
 "The search-light ' by all that's iu :ky ! Weli ! every- 
 one lias not been killed, anyho' ," cried Eugene Smith. 
 
 "Killed," echoed Dr. Dillon, savagely. "No one has 
 been killed yet, but it won't be long before they are." 
 
 It was not ; for a trooper engaged in staring stupidly 
 at the velvety black circle out of which the intruding 
 light seemed to spring, suddenly threw up his hands, 
 swirled round, and fell face upwards in a crumpled 
 heap. 
 
 There was an instant's scare in the crowd, in that 
 hundred and fifty or more of troopers and conspirators, 
 thrown into black and white relief, like a shadow panto- 
 mime, about the outer gate. Then the startled nmrmurs 
 of "the light — the Dcc-puk-rdg''' which were passing 
 from lip to lip, changed into a yell. 
 
 The fiofht had bej^un in earnest. 
 
 " Shoot straight," remarked Dr. Dillon, a few minuiL'S 
 after, "we shan't have such a ■.':ood chance long. The 
 gate is almost gone. Then most of the game will be 
 out of range — too clo --e to t^;e wall. And once they 
 get into the tunnel ve ;^''ia]l have to sound cease firing 
 until they come out r thi; other side; but then we 
 ought to do decent damage, 'f the prisoners don't get at 
 us first." He paused, and shot on steadily till, with a 
 hoarse sh^mt, the attacker- surged inwards. Then he 
 laid his rifle aside, remarking that it would be as well 
 to keep an eye gaol wards, in case of complications. 
 
 So far as could be seen in that curious chequering of 
 dense darkness and sharp glittering light ; light which 
 was palpably an intruder, which seemed absolutely 
 apart from the things it showed — even from the 
 dust-atoms — there was none as yet. At least the 
 uppermost portion of that vast wheel of wall stood 
 out, perfect, unbroken. The roof of the Smiths' 
 buntralo. where the liiiht stood, bei 
 
 i; 
 
 n,' 
 
 luwe^'pr 
 
 little higgler than these walls, much dI kvhal kiy below 
 
266 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 'M. 
 
 in the sections themselves was necessarily hidden in 
 shadow • especially on the side nearest the light. But 
 the narrow alley leading up to the central tower, 
 being in straight line with the ray, showed clear as day- 
 light, save just under the citadel itself. So did most of 
 the little courtyard, with its doors opening to the right 
 and left. George Dillon gave a sigh of satisfaction at the 
 sight, since, whether the foe elected — when once inside 
 the gates — to rush the roof, or press on to liberate the 
 prisoners by those six doors in the round tower, there 
 would be fair chance of a good bag, for a straight shot ! 
 
 Or, even if the convalescents in hospital were to set 
 free the solitary-cell convicts — a contingency which 
 had occurred to him too late for any plan of minimizing 
 the danger — and were to swarm into the courtyard to 
 help against the last gate (which, of course, was partly 
 barred from the inside), he could settle their hash also. 
 And that, now, was his one idea. The idea of all brave 
 men when they find themselves in a tight place — to 
 kill before being killed. 
 
 As yet, however, there was no sign of life even within 
 the vast wheel, with its rims and spokes of light, its 
 centre of shadow. It lay dim, curiously still behind the 
 dust-atoms that danced in the ray, like motes in a sun- 
 beam. 
 
 There was not a sound, not a sign within. Only the 
 tumult of voices, the intermittent shots without, rising 
 above the dull, mufHed hum in the air. 
 
 Stay ! that was something. Half way round the 
 circle, where the shadow of the tall tamarisk tree in the 
 Smiths' garden cut a jagged gap in the vvhite rim of 
 wall, there was some change, something that had not 
 been there a moment airo. 
 
 The gap had moved ; hatl changed place and form, 
 though for a time the air was still with one of those 
 breathless, suffocating pauses, when the dust above 
 seems to sink on the dust below, and fill one's very 
 lungs. And now the gap was back again, as it had 
 been before. But it hail left .something clinging for a 
 
THE SEA R CH- T. IGH T 
 
 267 
 
 dden in 
 It. But 
 tower, 
 ■ as day- 
 most of 
 ic ripjht 
 )n at the 
 :e inside 
 rate the 
 2r, there 
 ht shot ! 
 'e to set 
 J which 
 :iimizing 
 tyard to 
 s partly 
 .sh also, 
 ill brave 
 ace — to 
 
 :n within 
 light, its 
 hind the 
 in a sun- 
 
 ^nly the 
 It, rising 
 
 und the 
 
 ZQ. in the 
 
 e rim of 
 
 had not 
 
 id form, 
 of those 
 ;t above 
 c's very 
 s it had 
 iiig for a 
 
 second to the wall like a limpet : the next astride it 
 safely. 
 
 " Reach me over my rifle, Smith," said the doctor, 
 briefly; " t ere's a Drute trying to sniggle along the wall ; 
 must have v:0ine up that tree in your garden. Wish I'd 
 taken Bering's advice and cut it down. Thanks ! I 
 don't want to take my eye off him, for fear he means to 
 drop into a section. I'll shoot, if that seems his game ; 
 if not, I'll wait till he comes closer." 
 
 He leant over the parapet, waiting. Just below him, the 
 inner wall of the gate against which the stair clung, and 
 which was prolonged into the turret where Muriel and 
 the child were sheltering, joined the circular outside 
 wall of the gaol. The man, thought Dr. Dillon, trusting 
 to their being occupied in front, must be trying to itcd^ 
 a march on them, slip down the stair, and take them in 
 the rear. There was plenty of time to prevent that, 
 however. 
 
 Muriel Smith, roused by the sound of Vincent's name 
 from the sort of lethargy into which she had fallen, — 
 since she was not wanted either by her husband or the 
 doctor, — rose to her knees and peered over the parapet 
 cautiously. 
 
 *' From the tree in the garden," she said, dreamily. 
 '* Yes ! I remember. You said it couldn't be done, and 
 I said no one would ever want to do it, and he said he 
 could — " she paused, and gave a little cry — "It is 
 Vincent himself!" she gasped; "don't shoot, doctor! 
 It's Vincent! I know it ! I feel it! I knew he would 
 come, if he could ! Vincent ! Vincent ! " 
 
 " What's up t " asked Eugene, still firing steadily at 
 all that was to be seen. 
 
 "Only your wife says the man is Captain Dering ; 
 and — and, by Jove ! I believe she is right." 
 
 " Of course I'm right," she sobbed, half hysterically 
 — "I knew he would come — 1 knew he wouldn't leave 
 me to die alone ! " 
 
 Eugene Smith laid down his rifle, ami crawled over in 
 cover deliberately, with an odd look on his face. 
 
268 
 
 Tllf': HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 "Yes! that's Bering ; plucky fellow. He's swung 
 himself up. I always knew he was a nailing gymnast." 
 
 There was no grudge in his voice, only a curious chal- 
 lenge as he looked at his wife, then laid his big hand on 
 her shoulder. "Keep more down, please — your head's 
 showing. He'll get here, all right, nev^er fear ; we'll 
 lower a rope to him when he comes alongside." 
 
 "But I would rather look — I'd rather see anything 
 happen — " she moaned; "it seems so unkind not to 
 watch — not to be there — with him — " She was 
 shivering all over, the patient self-control, the steady ac- 
 quiescence even in her own danger which had been hers 
 till then, gone utterly. 
 
 George Dillon felt a great pity, a vast impatience. 
 
 " So you were right, Smith," he broke in hastily, to 
 cover her sudden break down. " They aren't killed ; 
 now we siiall have a chance of knowing v/hat's at the 
 bottom of all this foolery ! " 
 
 But when, five minutes later, Vincent Bering reached 
 the roof in safety, the doctor felt vaguely that the expla- 
 nations only added to the general incomprehensibility; 
 and that something was being kept back. What, he 
 asked in^ patiently, had started the show .^ 
 
 Of course there were plots. Pidar Narayan knew of 
 them, but, as such things generally did, they had seemed 
 abortive. What, then, had upset the apple-cart } 
 
 Vincent gave a gesture of despair. " What does it 
 matter } " he cried. " We can think of that — if we can 
 think — when it's over! And if we can't — what does 
 it matter .-*" 
 
 " You can bet your bottom dollar on one thing," said 
 Eugene, who, in this pause for a council of war, was 
 methodically loading various weapons for future use. 
 " It is either the sex, or sin. This world would be a 
 ]:)aradise of peace if people didn't want virtue or vice, — 
 I don't say which is which, mind you." He spoke sud 
 denly, harshly; and once more George Billon came tj 
 the rescue 
 
 "As Deling says, it doesn't matter. But the fact that 
 
^ 
 
 THE SEARCTI-T.TCHT 
 
 269 
 
 I s swung 
 ymnast." 
 rious chal- 
 <j hand on 
 our head's 
 iar ; we'll 
 
 I anytJiiu(]^ 
 
 nd not to 
 
 She was 
 
 steady ac- 
 
 been hers 
 
 tience. 
 hastily, to 
 n't killed ; 
 It's at the 
 
 ic: reached 
 the expla- 
 
 lensibility; 
 What, he 
 
 m knew of 
 
 lad seemed 
 
 irt? 
 
 lat does it 
 
 - if we can 
 
 what does 
 
 hing, 
 
 [ 
 
 " said 
 war, was 
 'uture use. 
 /ould be a 
 or vice, — 
 spoke sud 
 n came tj 
 
 ic fact that 
 
 the pioneers arc staunch, aufl may be expected before 
 long, alters our tactics a bit, Smith. We must husband 
 our ammunition, and stick on as long as possible — 
 don't you think so, Bering?" 
 
 Vincent, kindly always, had stooped to take little 
 Gladys, who had crept over to him, in his arms; and now 
 the child, her arms round his neck, was cuddling close 
 to him. •'* I'm so glad oo's come, Derin' darlin'," she 
 whispered. " And so's mum — aren't '00, dearest ? " 
 
 Vincent unclasped the soft, little, clinging hands 
 almost resentfully, and pulled himself together. 
 
 •* Yes ! " he said briefly, " we've got to hold out. So 
 it will be better to reserve ourselves, and try to keep 
 the gaol itself quiet. It will take the brutes some time 
 to force those gates unless they get help from within, 
 and then there is the alley, and the doors. Still, we 
 shall want every minute ; for, unless the storm lessens, 
 Carlyon will scarcely get the raft here before dawn. It 
 was awful on the river." 
 
 It was, indeed. 
 
 Even Am-ma had lost himself utterly, while Lance, 
 after paddling, and drifting, and shouting after a dozen 
 false hopes, was still as far from finding the raft as ever. 
 
 What could have become of it } Had it started 
 sooner than he had expected, and passed down before 
 he had found Vincent } Or had it never started at all } 
 Had the men, after he left, turned round on Jicrf 
 
 This fear had come to him early in his search, and he 
 had felt inclined then and there to paddle back to the 
 Fort, and satisfy himself it was not so. But the 
 thought of her face, if he allowed care for her to ciaise 
 delay, had kept him to his task steadily, tiil he could no 
 longer doubt that something had gone wrong. 
 
 But what } And what was he to do } 
 
 Then, in a flash, had come back her words after 
 she had bidden him think hard. " You must go down 
 to the spit, cut across it by the mission house, get round, 
 if you can, to the police camp." 
 
 !i 
 
 ii 
 
Ill 
 
 270 
 
 THE rrOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ill 
 
 m. 
 
 That had been her verdict, involving her being left to 
 take her chance. 
 
 And now either the raft, the relief for the gaol, had 
 started, or it had not. If the former, he might, of 
 course, by a stern chasvj overtake it ; but Erda was 
 there and Vincent would meet her ; they could do with- 
 out him. But if it had not started, what then } Then 
 matters were exactly as they had been, when she had 
 bidden him leave hci. 
 
 So, with a feeling that, if this were so, he cared little 
 what happened, he steered, so far as he could judge, for 
 the sand-banks of the spit to the right. 
 
 Am-ma, on the contrary, steered mstinctlvely to the 
 left, towards the high bank, the deepest stream. It 
 would at least float his logs to their destination, and 
 that was something. Kings had come and gone, and 
 battles had been won and lost, but the logs had always 
 had to go down the riv.;r, whatever happened. 
 
 And among the men, also, an apathy seemed to have 
 settled, as they drifted on and on in the dark. Erda, 
 crouching in a dry spot beside the ammunition, alert to 
 the uttermost for the least hint of Lance, realized this 
 from the very tone of their voices as they talked under 
 their breath to each other. She felt instinctively that 
 the inaction, the darkness, the lack of a leader, were 
 lessening the value of tliose twenty men each minute. 
 
 If Lance would only turn up ! What could have be- 
 come of him } The time seemed interminable ; she felt 
 sure that they must already have drifted past the gaol ; 
 she becfan to wonder if Am-ma was not playing false. 
 
 For the darkness, the uncertainty, had its grip on 
 her also. It was like some horrid nightmare, to drift 
 on and on, hearing the muffled drumming of the storm, 
 feeling the strange vibration in the air, the sharp sand 
 tingling on your face, and to know nothing — nothing at 
 all, save that you were there. 
 
 " Am-ma ! " she cried sharply, at last, certain of but 
 one thing, that she must act, — "I believe we have 
 passed the gaol ; steer to the right, do you hear ? " 
 
BEYOND THE S//AD01V 
 
 271 
 
 1 she had 
 
 A laugh, not exactly insolent, but toLrant, came from 
 the group of men. " 'Tis easy to give orders, Missy- 
 baba^' said a voice ; " but not so easy to obey them, when 
 the Lord is against your side, and sends darkness ! " 
 
 Erda's heart gave a great throb, not of fear, but com- 
 prehension. That was the beginning ; a minute or two 
 more and these men would be out of hand. 
 
 •'Am-ma!" she called again, "do what T tell you. 
 Remember the child ! Remember we have the Dec-puk- 
 rdgr 
 
 Another laugh came from the men. 
 
 *' If you have the Dce-puk-rdg^ send it now. We need 
 light, for sure, and — " 
 
 The voice ended in a gasp — 
 
 For it was there ! A long ray of light, showing them 
 that they were, indeed, just opposite the gaol. 
 
 ** Am-ma ! " came Erda's voice again, and there was a 
 hush and yet a triumph in it, "to the right — steer to 
 the right." 
 
 The raft edged slowly towards the ray, but the soldiers 
 still crouched inactive ; awed, yet not certain. 
 
 Then suddenly that quick crack of George Dillon's 
 first shot echoed over the river, then the yell, then the 
 answering shots. 
 
 And following on their heels rapidly came a stir among 
 those crouching figures, and one of them stood up excit- 
 edly — " It has begun ! — see you, Prag ! Lehna, give the 
 boatman a hand ! Lo ! do as the W\^'^-baba bade thee, 
 quickly, son of a pig ! Steer for the light — they have 
 begun ! " 
 
 Erda gave a sigh of relief. TJiat danger was over. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW 
 
 The fact that the quarrel had begun did not, however, 
 have the same effect upcm Rosha'i Khan. 
 
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 272 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 [lip 
 
 iM 
 
 u 
 
 In the first tempest of rage and hate which the sight 
 of Laila and Vincent in the balcony had roused in him 
 he had simply let himself go. He had not thought at 
 all. Had his revolver held other cartridges, he would 
 have gone on shooting at Vincent, Pidar Nardyan, at 
 everybody, till he could shoot no more. He had run 
 d-7nak ; that curious phase of the Oriental mind when 
 once it oversi:eps the hard and fast lines of custom in 
 which it moves and breathes and has its being. 
 
 The very fact that his revolver did not contain more 
 possibilities for death, that he had no other weapon, em- 
 phasized his wild revolt. 
 
 He was helpless — impotent — before these strangers, 
 who had stolen everything ! Everything, save bare ex- 
 istence. This thought, as he burst into the open, into 
 the lurid darkness of the new-come storm, had made him 
 laugh bitterly ; for it was only that bare existence which 
 he wished to steal ! They might keep the rest ; but that 
 he would claim from them somehow, in fair exchange. 
 
 The time was ripe for such exchange too, — for fair 
 exchange. (The epithet ** fair " haunted him, trying to 
 still the keen remorse for that shot in the dark ; for one 
 part of him knew it to have been cowardly.) Yes ! this 
 useless plot, with foolish mischief hidden in its heart, to 
 which he had just been listening with loyal intent to frus- 
 trate it, could be made to serve his purpose without delay. 
 His men would follow him anywhere. He had but to 
 say the word — the word so many of them wanted. Then, 
 those thieves of all that made life worth living would 
 learn a lesson. They would fight and win, of course ; but 
 the lesson that without such men as he — men whom 
 they thwarted and repressed at every turn — they could 
 not rely upon their regiments, would have to be learnt. 
 And in the learning, one thief would learn something else. 
 
 So, without more thought than this desperate clash- 
 ing of jealousy and despair, he had dashed through the 
 crowd of pilgrims who were waiting for the dawn, gone 
 back to the Fort, and given the word. 
 
 In the excitement which followed, spreading swiftly 
 
HF.VOND THE SHADOW 
 
 273 
 
 I ' 
 
 the sight 
 cd in him 
 hought at 
 he would 
 rayan, at 
 had run 
 ind when 
 :ustom in 
 
 tain more 
 apon, em- 
 strangers, 
 i bare ex- 
 )pen, into 
 made him 
 ice which 
 ; but tJiat 
 change. 
 — for fair 
 trying to 
 : ; for one 
 V^es ! this 
 . heart, to 
 nt to frus- 
 out delay, 
 id but to 
 d. Then, 
 ng would 
 lurse ; but 
 en whom 
 hey could 
 be learnt, 
 hingelse. 
 ite clash- 
 ough the 
 wn, gone 
 
 g swiftly 
 
 from his own, he hatl not — and it was typical of the 
 man that he did not — forget Lance Carlyon's friend- 
 liness ; a more equal friendliness than that of most. 
 There was no need to drag him into the quarrel, the 
 more so because the disloyalty of the Sikh pioneers was 
 doubtful. They might complicate matters at the begin- 
 ning. So he had locked and barred them into the inner 
 courtyard, out of the way. 
 
 But Captain Bering, he knew, was outside ! Let him 
 be alone with his troopers, as he, Roshan would be alone 
 with them ! Let them both try their influence ; let 
 them try conclusions on these terms. That was but fair. 
 
 This first step, however, necessitated others. The 
 original plot, with its waiting for the dawn, its cum- 
 brous mechanism of keys, and pilgrims, and God knows 
 what, was not to his liking. He meant to fight. And 
 if, as the conspirators had asserted, some of the warders 
 were iViends hand and foot, his men could crack the nut 
 of the gaol in half an hour. The sooner the better. 
 
 Pidar Narayan, he knew, had recognized him, and he 
 was a fox for wiliness. Then, Captain Bering must be 
 after him even now. And Billon-.sv7/r/y; might be on the 
 alert any time. So the coup de main must come at once. 
 As to what might follow, that might be after the fashion 
 of Meerut in '57, or not. Who could tell the end of 
 anything } The beginning would be an opportunity for 
 fair fight between him and a thief. Once more the epi- 
 thet "fair" scorched and shrivelled him with vague re- 
 morse, not for Laila — she was but a woman, a woman 
 who had played him false and who deserved the worst — 
 but for that shot in the dark. 
 
 For there were two Roshans, warring fiercely in heart 
 and brain. 
 
 Then, after his mad, reckless ride to the gaol, the 
 first realities had come to him in the sight of Br. Billon, 
 standing with the light in his hand to welcome friends ; 
 and in the sound of those two snap-shots proclaiming 
 foes. 
 
 Why '^. The question had come swiftly. What quar- 
 
 ;,t 
 
274 
 
 T!IF. HOSTS OF Trrf. LORD 
 
 rel had he with Dr. Dillon ? Or with Eugene Smith, 
 whose tall, gaunt figure showed behind the other? Eu- 
 gene Smith, who must have brought his wife, his child, 
 with him! 
 
 The horror, the terror of what might come, swept 
 through the quondam prize pupil of a mission school ; 
 the horror, the terror, in the remembrance of the Gr(,'at 
 Mutiny, which is, alas ! a legacy of wrong to young In- 
 dia. Which ties her hand and foot ; which makes those 
 who are worthy of the name shrink instinctively from 
 anything which may rouse the underlying savagery — 
 the unavoidable savagery — of their countrymcr . 
 
 Could he hold his troopers ? Could he be sure ? 1 le 
 had come to curse. Was it too late to bless ? 
 
 Then the memory of Laila — the whole hateful tale 
 which was irrevocable — struck him hopeless. He was 
 damned utterly ; he could not escape. 
 
 He sat rigid as a statue on his horse for a second ; 
 then with a wild fury gave the orders for his troopers 
 to dismount and force the gates. 
 
 *' Your slaves, Naivab-saliib ! " had come the answer, 
 making him smile proudly. That, at any rate, could 
 not be stolen from him noiv. Noiv he could fight and 
 die in what should have been his real position. 
 
 Yet, once more, when the search-light had come to 
 throw that group of excited men hacking and hewing 
 at doors closed by authority into significant black-and- 
 white relief, that doubt had returned ; that desire to be 
 on the side, once more, of men like Dr. Dillon, whose 
 bold resolve to be alone responsible for his gaol, which 
 the warder's tale revealed, filled him with admiration. 
 
 But that sudden throwing up of a trooper's hands, 
 that sidelong stumble into death, had left Roshan cruel 
 as death itself ; for the man thus killed had been to him 
 as a brother. 
 
 So he had gone on with a fresh impulse towards re- 
 venge, and for a time found forgetfulness in the excite- 
 ment, the action. Eor though the first gate, that one 
 giving on the open sort of porch, had yielded, almost at 
 
BEYOND THE SHADOW 
 
 75 
 
 once, to the troopers outside and the warders within, 
 the second, barring the arched tunnel, was a tougher 
 job. It was not until this had giv jn way, and the at- 
 tacking party were completely sheltered from the fire of 
 the little garrison on the roof, that there was leisure for 
 that thought to return : ** What am I doing ? Why am 
 I doing it?" 
 
 No man, it may be said broadly, ever fights without 
 feeling that the battle is an appeal to a tribunal beyond 
 himself, and Roshan did not feel this. Then the re- 
 membrance of the woman, the child, upstairs came per- 
 sistently, burdened by the weight of that past tragedy 
 which, in India, it is impossible to forget. And this 
 was a woman who had always been courteous to him> a 
 child to whom he had given toys. 
 
 What was he doing .-* 
 
 The men were at work on the last, the strongest gate, 
 with every tool they could find. Not many, for Dr. 
 Dillon's forethought had left them before barred doors 
 everywhere. The delay had already been great ; would 
 be greater. They must be close now on the lines of 
 the original plot, at which Roshan had laughed, for the 
 dawn was showing faintly — a mere promise of light to 
 come — in the east. And the storm was passing. The 
 dull reverberations of faint thunder were lost now in 
 the cries, the blows of those at work trying to batter 
 down the iron bars. 
 
 A sudden distaste — more than regret or repentance 
 — came to Roshan as he stood silent, watching blow 
 after blow ; a sudden doubt. 
 
 Which was the right .-* No man worth calling a man 
 ever fights for anything else ; every man worth calling 
 one fights for that. But which was right } Those men, 
 hacking and hewing, or the little garrison upstairs } 
 
 There were no such searchings of heart there, at any 
 rate ; no question as to what they were doing, though 
 at that exact moment they were engaged in the trivial 
 occupation of drinking tea. 
 
 Muriel Smith had made it, at Dr. Dillon's suggestion, 
 
 1 I 
 
 {•. 
 
 
I 
 
 mi 
 
 
 
 276 
 
 r//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 against this very pause; this '' cease fir in ij^'' which he 
 had foreseen. And in the making ot it she had used 
 a continental tea-basket which more than once had been 
 her companion on the Brindisi route. Dr. Dillon had 
 laid hands on i in his foraging, and as she had feoiled 
 the kettle, the rush and roar of a train racing through 
 the peaceful French champaignes had seemed to be 
 in her ears, instead of that rush and roar of blows and 
 shouting which was now rising from every part of the 
 gaol ; though the prisoners were still helpless for evil in 
 their sections. 
 
 So the three men, haggard, anxious, drank their tea 
 in silence, hastily ; yet with a curious insistence, as if 
 the triviality gave them a hold on things familiar, things 
 beyond this midsummer-night's dream of madness. But 
 the child chattered as she munched a biscuit ; chattered 
 of the charms of this strange picnic on the " ivoof, in 
 the dark zuith 00 s nighty an shippers only.'' 
 
 The unconscious little voice struck a chill to the men's 
 hearts, but the woman smiled, as mothers can do when 
 they wish to guard that blessed unconsciousness to the 
 last ; the unconsciousness of which they are guardians 
 by right. 
 
 "We are doing as well as could be expected," re- 
 marked Dr. Dillon, suddenly, with a quaint professional 
 reminiscence ; then added, " I wish to God, though, I 
 knew what my prisoners were up to — those solitary 
 cellers are on my mind — I believe the convalescents 
 could dig them out with the cook-room platters and 
 ladles. I ought to have thought of that. But, as I say, 
 we are doing very fairly well — your light, Dering, was 
 a godsend." 
 
 Eugene Smith looked up sharply, almost as if he 
 meant a disclaimer ; then he gave a brief assent. " Yes ! 
 but that will be more of a godsend still — it is the dawn ! " 
 
 He pointed to that faint promise of light in the east, 
 and Vincent Dering's eyes followed his hand with the 
 doubtful look of one sick to death, as he watches the 
 long weary night merge once more into another long 
 
BEYOXD T^'f-: SHADOW 
 
 277 
 
 which he 
 had used 
 had been 
 )illon had 
 ad feoiled 
 through 
 ed to be 
 )lovvs and 
 irt of the 
 or evil in 
 
 their tea 
 nee, as if 
 ar, things 
 ess. But 
 chattered 
 * woof, in 
 
 :he men's 
 
 do when 
 
 2ss to the 
 
 guardians 
 
 ted," re- 
 )fessional 
 hough, I 
 ; solitary 
 alescents 
 ters and 
 as I say, 
 ring, was 
 
 as if he 
 . "Yes! 
 dawn ! " 
 the east, 
 with the 
 :hes the 
 lier long 
 
 weary day of certain pain. There was an utter hope- 
 lessness in it. 
 
 "Yes," he echoed slowly, "that is the dawn." 
 
 " Carlyon said the attack was planned for dawn, didn't 
 he } " asked the doctor, deliberately helping himself to 
 another lump of sugar, deliberately trying to keep the 
 pulse beats of those around him as near normal as might 
 be — and there had been something beyond it in Vin- 
 cent's voice. " They must have meant to use the keys 
 that brute Kishcn Rao made off with. I wonder what 
 it was that started the show prematurely } " 
 
 " Do you think it was premature .-* Why } " put in 
 Eugene Smith. 
 
 " We should have had some of the townspeople, some 
 of the pilgrims otherwise." 
 
 " Perhaps the storm " — began Vincent. 
 
 The doctor shook his head. " If they had meant to 
 come they would have come. Of course now, with the 
 wind blowing straight off us, they can't possibly hear." 
 
 He paused and listened, for a sudden silence had fallen 
 on the turmoil beneath, and out of it came an all too 
 familiar sound, the clank of leg irons. Some of the 
 prisoners, therefore, had managed to break out of their 
 dormitories ; or were these the solitary cellers } 
 
 " I wish Carlyon would turn up," he muttered, almost 
 petulantly, "it's our only chance — " 
 
 But there was to be another ; for, from below, a voice 
 rose loud and clear. 
 
 " Dr. Dillon ! I have no desire to hurt you or yours, 
 but I warn you that, if you persist, I am not responsible. 
 Open the gates, and you shall have a safe conduct — for 
 — for everybody." 
 
 George Dillon was on his feet at once, but Captain 
 Dering stopped him ; his eyes ablaze. 
 
 "What shall I tell him, Dillon } " he said sharply. "I'll 
 take my orders from you — you're in charge ; but that 
 man is under mine. What shall I say } " 
 
 Dr. Dillon gave one glance at the woman and the 
 child. "Tell him to be universally damned," he an- 
 
 lit 
 
 J' 
 
 I 
 
 
'I 
 
 i' h 
 
 ll ! 
 
 8^*: 
 
 278 
 
 r//E f/OSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 swered ; and Eugene Smith, husband and father, nodded 
 acquiescence 
 
 Roshan Khan was standing in full view as Vincent 
 Dering stepped up to the parapet. His face was raised; 
 there was almost an appeal in it. But every atom of 
 that, every atom almost of humanity, vanished as he 
 recognized his captain. His hand went instinctively to 
 his revolver. 
 
 Then a thought seemed to come to him. He drew 
 himself up proudly, and waited for the answer. 
 
 It came, keen as a knife. 
 
 *' Risaldar! draw off your men and return to barracks, 
 or I'll shoot you as a mutineer." 
 
 There was half a second's silence ; then a wild laugh : 
 "Close up, men, rush that gate — forward ! " 
 
 The words and the crack of Vincent's revolver — the 
 bullet of which, aimed too high, passed through Roshan's 
 turban — were almost lost in the answering yell. But 
 the 7'isaldar stood his ground for a second, then coolly 
 sought shelter. 
 
 That was over ! They were quits now tor the fair fight. 
 And fate had been kind. He had unwittingly offered 
 this man — his greatest enemy — a safe conduct; and it 
 had been refused, luckily. Well ! let Vincent Dering 
 take the whole consequences. The blood of one woman 
 was already on his head ; so would be the blood spilt 
 here. He, Roshan, would need have no further 
 scruples. 
 
 So, as if it had gained strength from the brief respite, 
 the turmoil recommenced; and now Roshan Khan's voice 
 could be heard urging the men on. And there were 
 answering shouts from different parts of the gaol. 
 
 George Dillon frowned. " They mean business now. 
 And I fancy I hear pounding at the left section door. 
 If so we shall have the solitary cell men — my worst lot, 
 of course — out in the courtyard before long. Dering 
 — can you hear anything.-* — there's such a confounded 
 noise — " 
 
 Vincent, who was standing at the top of the stairs 
 
 of 
 
I! 
 
 BF.VOXn THE SUA DO n' 
 
 279 
 
 which led to the ten-feet drop, ran down a few steps and 
 listened. Then he looked up quickly and nodded. 
 
 ** They are there. The door's shaking. How many 
 of them are there } " 
 
 "Two dozen or thereabouts; and the convalescents, 
 of course. That's nothing — if they haven't j^ot their 
 leg irons off ! We ought to settle most of them before 
 they can help with the door. Still, I wish Carlyon would 
 turn up." 
 
 A sudden hurry and urgency had come to the strug- 
 gle, and Dr. Dillon passed restlessly to the other side of 
 the roof. The sky was lightening faintly. More because 
 the dust had sought dust again, the earth earth, than 
 from any increase of light ; and so the broad .ay of the 
 search-light, widening as it went, lost itself in the distant 
 darkness, and there was nothing to be seen riverwards. 
 But close at hand two men — one in a warder's uniform 
 — were running towards the gaol, shouting. 
 
 The doctor was back to the inner parapet in a second. 
 '* Look out ! they've got the keys now — not of this door, 
 but some of the sections — and the alley. The game's 
 up unless Carlyon — Mrs. Smith, please ! — you had 
 better go into the turret — we shall be shooting 
 free—" 
 
 Eugene, who had been standing beside her, laid his 
 hand on her shoulder. " Yes, dear ! " he said gently ; 
 "go inside --it will be better for Gladys — and for 
 me — 
 
 Muriel turned white, but stood quite firm, quite calm. 
 "Come, little girlie," she said, holding out her hand to 
 the child. "You've had your tea — it's bedtime — I 
 can't have you sitting up all — " she broke flown a little, 
 partly because she was passing Vincent, and he, busy 
 loading various rifles and revolvers, kept his eyes studi- 
 ously from her. But Gladys did not choose to pass 
 her friend in this fashion. She paused, a dainty little 
 figure in a blue dressing-gown, like her mother, and with 
 the same fluffy golden curls about her coaxing, delicate 
 little child's face. 
 
 !*.. 
 
 !i. 
 
ltl.J ' 1 
 
 280 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 ^i 
 
 \' 
 
 1 ! 
 
 "Dood-night, Derin* darlin'," she said. "I'm so 
 glad 'oo's here, an' so's — " 
 
 Something that was not all desire to check that 
 formula made the man pause, too, to lift her gently, 
 and kiss her. 
 
 "Good-night, Gladys. You mustn't be frightened at 
 anything, you know. You've got to be a brave girl — 
 haven't you.^" The coaxing face was close to the hag- 
 gard, haunted-looking one. 
 
 " If 'oo's goin' to be brave, Dcrin' darlin', I'll be 
 brave too. Is '00, dearest.^" 
 
 The haggardness vanished. 
 
 "I think so, little one. Good-night." He put the 
 child down hastily, at a crash. The moment for cour- 
 age had come. 
 
 " Shoot as straight as you can ! " shouted the doctor. 
 *' The section door's gone. Let 'em have it ! " 
 
 The door had gone, indeed ; and in a second the 
 courtyard beneath them was half full of naked, desper- 
 ate men ; the worst characters in the gaol. 
 
 "Pick off the ones nearest the gate — don't let 'em 
 touch the bolts — it's good for another ten minutes if 
 we can keep them from it," came the doctor's voice in 
 jerks, as he leant over the parapet just above the cen- 
 tre of the door below, and carried out his own orders 
 with deadly effect ; though his heart sank when he saw 
 that some of the prisoners were unironed — or rather 
 unironeJ on one leg, and that they were armed with 
 the ether iron ; a deadly enough weapon at close quar- 
 ters. Besides, it meant more treachery. It meant a 
 previous filing of the ankle-fetters ; and if others in the 
 remaining sections were as free — 
 
 He shot quicker, steadier, while Eugene Smith and 
 Vincent, one above the other on the top of the stair, 
 did the same, taking the intruders on the flank. It 
 was growing lighter every instant, the air was clearer, 
 the breeze of dawn was sweeping the smoke of the 
 rifles riverwards, the great white wheel of the gaol 
 was growing broader in its outlines, the shadows were 
 
M 
 
 BEYOND THE SHADOW 
 
 281 
 
 W 
 
 itrhtencd at 
 
 the doctor. 
 
 shrinking. But the storm seemed still there, in the 
 ceaseless reverbeiations. 
 
 "They're up to something in the far corner! *' called 
 Eugene. "What is it, Dillon } You can see better. ' 
 
 The doctor ceased firing for a second, and ran farther 
 down the parapet. 
 
 "The keys! the keys!" he shouted back. "They 
 are trying to pass in the keys ! Shoot the devils — 
 those in the corner ! Don't let *em — or the gaol is 
 gone ! " 
 
 So, for the next minute, it was deadly work down in 
 that corner by the crevice through which some unseen 
 hand was thrusting something. Three times a man, 
 clutching at the prize, fell in a heap ere he touched it. 
 Then a fourth pitched forward against the doors with 
 the keys in his hand, and a fifth, groping for them, 
 rolled over on his side with them hidden under his dead 
 body. And from outside the gate came rendings, and 
 crashings, and yells ; from above, that call, " Shoot 
 straight, or the gaol's gone ! " 
 
 Muriel crept out from shelter, possessed once more 
 by that frantic desire to see to the very end, and stood 
 looking down on those two on the stairs. She gave a 
 faint cry when Vincent flung his rifle away, and ran 
 down to that ten-foot drop for revolver practice. At 
 the sound, her husband gave one quick look up, and 
 followed suit. 
 
 But their own success was against them. The grow- 
 ing pile ot the wounded formed a barricade, behind 
 which a man, squirming with covetous hands among the 
 dead and dying, found what he sought. 
 
 " He's got them ! Stop him ! stop him ! " 
 
 There was a fusillade, the man dropped ; but the keys 
 were in another hand — another — another — passing 
 outwards from the crush — outwards towards that low 
 door at the end of the narrow alley. 
 
 Without a word, Vincent, revolver in hand, let him- 
 self drop on the heads below. 
 
 "Oh, don't, Vincent, don't I " came a woman's voice; 
 
 ii 
 
 i 
 
 t 
 
282 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 H.;' 
 
 VA 
 
 B;.; I|. 
 
 and at the sound, another man gave that swift look up 
 once more, and followed suit. 
 
 "Let them be!" said Dr. Dillon, sharply. "Let 
 them do what they can ; it is about the only chance." 
 And still, as he spoke, he kept singling out a foe and 
 firing. 
 
 The chance, even with his help, was a poor one in 
 that crowd, where there was always another dark hand 
 to snatch at the prize, and pass it nearer to the door — 
 that door which was the key to so much ! 
 
 Yet, the crush through which they fought lessening, 
 those two Englishmen found themselves with the 
 straight alley before them for a race. A race against 
 three men, without arms, but without irons ; and with a 
 fair start. While close behind was the crush — the 
 crowd ! 
 
 It was nothing but a race, now, since the revolvers 
 had done their worst, had fired their last shot ; a race 
 with the hope — if Vincent could come up with those 
 three — of using a Goorkha kiikri^ which he had thrust 
 into the yellow silk sash he wore instead of a waistcoat 
 beneath his red jacket — thrust it therewith an ugly 
 frown as a last argument for his foes, when he had seen 
 it lying among the pile of miscellaneous weapons Dr. 
 Dillon had foraged from the Smiths' house. It had a 
 dainty ivory handle — Vincent had given it to Mrs. 
 Smith himself, and its last use had been to cut the 
 pages of a fashion paper — 
 
 It had a sterner job now. 
 
 But Vincent was behind ; a yard or two — no more. 
 He had fired one more shot before beginning the race, 
 and Eugene's legs were longer. Yet the yard meant all 
 things, and he knew it ; so as he ran, his hand sought 
 the knife. 
 
 "Look out, Smith! look out!" he called. "I'll 
 chuck you my kukri ; get on and job them ; I'll keep 
 the others back — a bit." 
 
 As he spoke, a glittering curve sped from his hand to 
 the other man's feet. 
 
BEYOND Ti:. SHADOW 
 
 283 
 
 lis hand to 
 
 Then he pulled up and faced the crowd behind with 
 his clubbed revolver. 
 
 The lane was very narrow. Three men could barely 
 breast it shoulder to shoulder. Surely one could bar it 
 by swift blows and slow retreat ! For a time, at any 
 rate — time for the opening and shutting of a door! 
 He could but try. 
 
 " Oh ! what is he going to do } " gasped the woman 
 who was watching. 
 
 " I appose he's going to be brave, mum," said the 
 child, who clutched at her hand, watching, too, with 
 great, wide, uncomprehending eyes. 
 
 But the man beside them held his breath. 
 
 So retreating, step by step, Vincent Dering kept the 
 crowd back, lured the crowd on, safe — so far! For 
 these, the first, the swiftest, were naturally the un- 
 ironed, therefore, the unarmed. But there were others, 
 forcing their way to the front, who would be harder 
 to deal with. 
 
 Vincent threw his head back and wondered how 
 Eugene was faring ; for he dared not turn his face from 
 his task even for a second. 
 
 Had those three been caught up.^ Had the kukri 
 helped } 
 
 It had. And one of those three had fallen before a 
 flash, as of light. 
 
 And another ! 
 
 But the third had the key in the door ; had turned it, 
 when Eugene struck him from behind. With a wild 
 yell he flung his full weight on the door ; it burst open, 
 and the two fell headlong into the tower beyond. 
 
 But only for a second. Eugene Smith vv?- up again, 
 had the key out, and in on the further side. 
 
 " All right ! " he shouted ; '* make a rush for it I I'm 
 ready ! " 
 
 Vincent Dering gave one sharp look round. 
 
 The door was not four yards from him, but the crowd 
 was not one. There was no time. 
 
 "Shut it," he called, "I'm all right." 
 
 I 
 
w 
 
 I ; 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 H 
 
 h 
 
 1 
 
 ■'■ ■ 
 
 1 
 
 [ ■: 
 
 n 
 
 
 n 
 
 ')■ 
 
 H 
 
 . 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 il!i 
 
 284 
 
 r^^ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Eugene Smith stood uncertain ; the door ajar. 
 
 The keys ! ah ! what could he do with the keys if he 
 went back to help ? — and if not — 
 
 " Oh ! please shut it, Smith ! there's a good fellow ; 
 please." 
 
 The four yards were two now, were one. 
 
 Then slowly the door closed, and Vincent had his back 
 against it. 
 
 " Oh, Vincent ! Vincent ! " 
 
 The agonized cry echoed above all other cries, but 
 only for an instant ; the next, George Dillon's hand 
 was gagging the lips which uttered it. 
 
 " Hush ! " he said fiercely. ** Can't you let him for- 
 get for these last few minutes that there is such a thing 
 as a woman in the world. Hush ! I say." 
 
 And a great hush came. The so"nd of blows, of iron 
 clashing on iron, and falling with a dull thud on some- 
 thing softer, seemed to fill the world and leave room for 
 nothing else. 
 
 Nothing except a softer sound still. A shuddering 
 moan, as a woman slipped to her knees, and covered 
 her face with her hands ; then slipped lower still to the 
 ground, in a heap. 
 
 But the child looked at her mother, surprised. 
 
 " Doesn't '00 like Derin' darlin' to be brave, dearest ?" 
 she asked, in a concerned little voice. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 DAWN 
 
 Had an hour passed, or twain } Ninian Bruce could 
 not tell. It seemed to him that he had been kneeling 
 for a lifetime, there on the altar steps beside the dying 
 girl, with the glittering red-and-gold drapery trailing to 
 the white marble, and opening to a white breast stained 
 red, — a brighter red ! 
 
DAIVN 
 
 285 
 
 A long lifetime ; long as his own ; that long life in 
 which he had seen, had felt, so much. 
 
 For as he waited for her inevitable death, his mind 
 had followed that long life of his own, year after year, 
 day after day, hour after hour. And everywhere it had 
 seen a woman's eyes, a woman's soul, looking back from 
 a soul, from eyes, that should have been a man's. 
 
 Yes ! the keynote of that long life had been the love 
 of a woman. Passionate love, absorbing mind as well 
 as body, claiming its reward in kind ; as such love 
 always does. 
 
 In kind ! 
 
 There lay the whole difference between anathema 
 and beata. They were both karmay or desire ! 
 
 One of the girl's white feet slid with a silvery jingle 
 of its anklet to the next step, and, as he replaced it to a 
 more comfortable position, a chill struck to his heart as 
 he remembered what such chiming had meant in the 
 past history of the world. The measure which that 
 provoked was — anathema. That — disguised, palliated, 
 refined in a thousand ways — was one kind. 
 
 And the other } 
 
 The memory of his own past surged to his brain as 
 he bent over the girl's whitening face and scanned it 
 narrowly. How like the face was to that other one, 
 now that coming death had sharpened the full, youthful 
 curves. He had noticed the likeness often — it had 
 been clear when Laila had worn the old Italian — Bea- 
 trice's — dress. But net so clear, not half so clear, as 
 when in this — this almost shameless one — she had 
 said — "I only want — him." 
 
 It might have been Margherita speaking, — Mar- 
 gherita, who had wanted a man's soul. 
 
 And she had had one. 
 
 That was the other kind. But both were desire ; the 
 desire which drove humanity from Paradise, and keeps 
 it vainly seeking for one still. 
 
 Saturated as he was with the mysticism of the East 
 and West, these thoughts came to him, dreamily, making 
 
286 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 vh 
 
 
 him feel curiously aloof from him* elf. The pity of it 
 filled him, and brought a pity for the dying girl also ; 
 the girl who had failed to find a paradise in this 
 world, and was seeking a new road to it ; seeking it 
 alone. The only thing she craved in all God's earth 
 to make that paradise — gone! Priest as he was, the 
 humanity in him rose in passionate hope that she should 
 not wake to the consciousness of this. What good would 
 it do } Let her enter the shadows in peace. 
 
 But as he wished the wish, her head, which had been 
 resting on his arm, turned to the touch of it, and her 
 smooth cheek nestled closer to what it found. 
 
 " Kiss me, Vincent," she said, and her voice came 
 back full, rich, round, to make the claim. " Kiss me 
 before you go, dear!" 
 
 The old man gave a slight shiver, and was silent. 
 
 "Vincent!" came the voice again; "you are there, 
 aren't you } You wouldn't leave me — now — surely } " 
 
 There was another silent pause, and then, silent still, 
 Father Ninian stooped, and the old lips and the young 
 ones met in a lover's kiss. And as they met, he knew 
 that in that kiss lay the great renunciation of his life ; 
 that henceforward there would be no woman waiting in 
 Paradise for him ; that the spiritual presence had gone 
 from his life like the bodily presence. That Margherita 
 was Juliet, and Juliet, Margherita ! 
 
 " That's nice," murmured Laila, softly ; " that's nice." 
 
 Her head settled to his arm again, and the silence 
 went on. On and on, till he stooped lower to listen for 
 an unheard breath ; then lower still to shift that head 
 from his arm to the ground. For the need of a human 
 touch, a human sympathy, had gone forever. 
 
 He made the sign of the cross over the dead body, 
 rose to his feet unsteadily, and looked about him, dazed, 
 uncertain. In truth, he felt all his years for the first 
 time ; felt that his last hold on life had somehow gone 
 from him in that kiss ; that something more than one 
 woman lay dead before him. 
 
 Then the sight of Akbar Khin, still rocking himself 
 
 'v^-s 
 
DAWN 
 
 287 
 
 backwards and forwards, a perfect pendulum of protest- 
 ing innocence and helpless remorse, roused the old 
 priest to the present. He took up the rapier he had 
 laid aside in crossing the chapel, and passed over to 
 where the old eunuch was bemoaning the high-handed- 
 ness of fate. It was a tyranny, indeed ! Who could 
 have foreseen such an ending to a very ordinary in- 
 trigue } Who could even have dreamt of it ? Had not 
 men and women loved and met, thus, since the begin- 
 ning of time } 
 
 So, to the sinner's outraged experience of life and love 
 came the saint with his, and with the face and sword of 
 St. Michael and All Angels. 
 
 "Tell me the truth," he said sternly; "and tell it 
 quickly, for there is no time to lose." 
 
 In truth there was not much to tell. It was all so 
 simple, viewed as a whole ; so complex in detail. And, 
 as he listened, the anger left Pidar Nardyan's face wist- 
 ful, wondering. More so than ever at the last mumbling 
 excuse. 
 
 " It all comes, Ge-reeb-pvu-wdZy from the Almighty 
 having made the Missy-^«^« so like her sainted ances- 
 tress — Andri Begum — on whom be peace." 
 
 Anari Begum ! On whom be peace ! Her sainted 
 ancestress, on whom be peace ! 
 
 He stood for an instant looking towards the Altar, 
 towards the dead girl ; then he echoed under his breath, 
 " On whom be peace ! " 
 
 That was the end. 
 
 Peace on those women who had loved and died ; and 
 on the men who had loved them — lived for them — 
 perhaps died for them. 
 
 But for the rest who lived and loved still } A quick 
 life seemed to come back to him at the thought of these, 
 a desire to save them from death, 
 
 " Follow me," he said briefly to the old retainer ; " it 
 must be close on dawn — I must see what I can do," 
 
 So, still in his robes, with the blubbering old pantaloon 
 — aposUe of another cult — at his heels, he passed down 
 
 H 
 

 288 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 s 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 SH 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 1 
 
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 the arched passage to the door at its end which opened 
 on to the courtyard between the palace and the Fort. 
 And as he went, his brain, confused as to the past, clear 
 as to the present, was busy making plans for peace. So 
 far as helping those at the gaol went, he knew himself 
 to be powerless. Physically, a couple of old men — 
 mere shadows of men — could give no help, and he could 
 not hope for influence there, among the Hosts of the 
 Devil. But here in the city, among those Hosts of the 
 Lord — the pilgrims for whom he had always had a se- 
 cret sympathy, who knew him, at least, by reputation — 
 with whom, at least, he stood on common ground — he 
 might have some. He could but try ; try to persuade 
 some, at least, of the great mass of seekers after the 
 "Cradle of the Gods" to go on their way in peace when 
 the dawn came ; try to save some of them from follow- 
 ing a wrong road. 
 
 The door was slightly ajar ; he widened the chink and 
 looked out with a sinking heart over the courtyard with 
 its raised union-jack of paths. Much larger than the 
 yard about the Pool of Immortality, it was crammed 
 from end to end now with a crowd, the first look at 
 which told him that his chance of a hearing was small 
 indeed, for the dawn was closer than he had thought for 
 amid the shadows of the chapel, and the grey glimmer 
 of coming light showed him once more a sea of upturned 
 eager faces. But the patience of the previous dawn was 
 gone. They were restless now, restless with the vague, 
 uncertain restlessness which is so dangerous in a crowd, 
 which tells that the fuel for the flame is only awaiting a 
 match, any match, to fire it. And there were many only 
 waiting to be struck. The next instant might bring one. 
 Father Ninian felt this instinctively, felt that here in this 
 courtyard lay the mine which the returning troopers, the 
 desperadoes from the gaol, were to fire first. All Esh- 
 wara might rise afterwards, but the great danger lay 
 here, must be grappled with here. But how } 
 
 Not by words. The ear of a crowd is always difficult 
 to gain, unless the eye is taken first, and a man had 
 
DAWN 
 
 289 
 
 both already. For aloft, on the barrel of the bigj old 
 gun which centred the square, jogi Gorakh-n^th was 
 expounding their wrongs to the pilgrims, their inevita- 
 ble damnation if the wrath of the Gods was not instantly 
 appeased. His wild, weird figure, in all its nakedness, 
 its austerity, could be seen above the little circle of 
 lamps which his immediate supporters held upwards at 
 arm's-length. And above his head, like a canopy, 
 drifted the wisps of tired earth-atoms which were being 
 driven sideways by the breeze of dawn as they fell in 
 their search for rest. For the storm was over, their 
 brief ambition for something beyond mere earth was 
 past. Wisps, which, as they swept over the circling 
 lights, took a lurid glow, then faded into the dim 
 shadows again. 
 
 And something else caught the light redly. The 
 chaplet of human skulls, the dread Mother's necklace, 
 which the jogi swung from one hand to the other as 
 he called for blood — for blood to appease Her — the 
 Mother of all — the Eternal Womanhood! 
 
 Since without the shedding of blood there is no 
 remission of sins. 
 
 The tenet of all religions echoed into the ear of the 
 c.owd, the strange demoniacal figure, in its lurid setting, 
 held its eye. What chance was there for a single voice } 
 None. 
 
 Yet something must be done For the dawn was 
 nigh. Every instant the light grew. Any moment 
 might bring that inrush of evil from the gaol which 
 would breed violence among these still peaceful folk ; 
 the ignorant, helpless folk who were being held captive 
 by words against the coming of that inrush. 
 
 Suddenly, for a second, the attention of the crowd 
 wavered. A tall man in the white dress of a European- 
 ized native had been hoisted to the shoulders of some 
 others, not far from the jogi, and so, from this coign of 
 vantage, prepared to harangue the people. 
 
 " 'Tis Ramanund," said someone close to where Father 
 Ninian stood in the shadow of the door. •' He is 
 
 
 u 
 
 1., II 
 
290 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 Brahmin, and a scholar above scholars. Mayhap he will 
 tell us what to do these times, when all seems wrong. 
 There is no harm in listening." 
 
 Nor good either. For the first words of that appeal of 
 culture to ignorance were drowned in a fiendish laugh, 
 a frenzied rattling of the dread chaplet, a loud defiance. 
 
 " Hold thy peace, Baboo-jee ! What is blood to thee, 
 who hath no God to whom thou canst give it } But we 
 have, brethren. These be Her drinking-cups, the skulls 
 of men like ourselves. Let us give Her pleasure, 
 brothers, and have blessing from Her hands ; not curs- 
 ing, as thou hast had, Ramanund, whose head should 
 still be shaven, whose touch unclean from the loss of a 
 woman." 
 
 The allusion to the death of Ramanund's wife roused 
 an instant murmur of assent from those who were of the 
 city, ana they passing the tale on to others, the murmur 
 swelled t ) a roar which effectively drowned the rest of 
 Ramanund's advice. 
 
 But Father Ninian, still at the door, still uncertain, 
 could hear a man who had been buckling on his pilgrim's 
 sandals as if for a start, say, as he stood up and thrust 
 them back to his waistcloth : — 
 
 " Well ! I, for one, go no further without remission, 
 or the blood which brings it. Asjogi-jee saith, no man 
 should risk the woman's cursing. No man can hold his 
 own against that." 
 
 " He hath a young wife in his house, see you, and all 
 know what that means," sniggered a neighbour. 
 
 But a third voice broke in gravely, "Young or old, 
 what matter } Women sit ever on the kneco of the 
 Gods, as we men have sat on theirs, seeing they are the 
 mothers of us all. So, mother or wife, we cannot escape 
 them." 
 
 " Baba-jee speaks truth," assented another bystander, 
 " 2ini\ jogi-jee also. If She needs blood. She must have 
 it, seeing She is Woman. As for him ? Let him be 
 silent. He hath no God. No blood sacrifice, no remis- 
 sion of sins. Let him speak who hath them." 
 
 rr . ' 
 
 ■ 1 
 
DAWN 
 
 291 
 
 p he will 
 > wrong. 
 
 appeal of 
 laugh, 
 defiance, 
 to thee, 
 But we 
 he skulls 
 pleasure, 
 not curs- 
 d should 
 loss of a 
 
 "e roused 
 
 re of the 
 
 murmur 
 
 e rest of 
 
 ncertain, 
 pilgrim's 
 id thrust 
 
 amission, 
 
 , no man 
 
 hold his 
 
 I, and all 
 
 ir. 
 
 I or old, 
 
 3 of the 
 
 { are the 
 
 3t escape 
 
 ^stander, 
 
 ust have 
 
 him be 
 
 10 remis- 
 
 There was a faint sound as of the closing of a door, 
 and beyond it, in the darkness of the arched passage, an 
 old voice said, with a curious note of gladness in it, 
 " Follow me, quick, Akbar ; there is not a moment to 
 be lost. The dawn has come ! " 
 
 It seemed to have come to Pidar Nar^yan's face as he 
 knelt hurriedly once more beside the body of the dead 
 girl, to fold her dead hands decently as if in prayer, to 
 cover the dead feet with the crimson draperies, the dead 
 face with the flimsy, glittering veil — the veil which hid 
 nothing of its beauty — which struck the keynote of the 
 whole. 
 
 " On whom be peace ! " he whispered as he rose, 
 stretching out his thin old hand in benediction ; and as 
 he said the words, the vision came to him of a whole 
 world which had loved, and sinned, and gone on its 
 mysterious quest for something beyond love. A world 
 to which he had said farewell with a kiss. 
 
 He passed on to the Altar, and with swift, steady 
 hands opened the sanctuary, and took out the treasure 
 it contained ; a star-shaped, star-rayed pyx, set with 
 jewels, relic of the days when singing-birds that sang of 
 themselves, and such like things, with many another, 
 had come to Eshwara from Italy. 
 
 "Take the candles from the altar, Akbar," he said, 
 "and walk in front — just in front; you know — as you 
 used to walk." 
 
 The old courtier mumbled " Ge-reeb-pun-wdz^' with 
 a caper of alacrity. In his confusion, his resentful 
 remorse, it was a relief to return to pomp — to ser- 
 vility. 
 
 So, with that Bodily Presence which, till then, had 
 always brought the thought of the lost paradise of a 
 woman's love with it, in his hands. Father Ninian and 
 his strange acolyte, priest of another cult, passed swiftly 
 out of the chapel, leaving the Altar dark, bereft of its 
 treasure ; leaving the dead woman, bereft of her treasure 
 also, lying in a glitter of gold „nd crimson on the Altar 
 steps. Passed on a mission of peace to the living ; on 
 
 M 
 
292 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 n 1' 
 
 
 If'.. 
 
 HI J ft 
 
 i >r 
 
 
 the chance of gaining the ear, the eye, of that waiting 
 crowd outside in the courtyard. 
 
 As he went rapidly, yet with the faltering step every 
 now and again of one wearied by long journeying, down 
 the arched passage, Ninian Bruce scarcely thought of 
 success or failure. There was a wistful triumph in his 
 face — he looked as a slave might look who dies in mak- 
 ing himself free. He did not think even of the strange- 
 ness of the little procession. The night had been so full 
 of strange things ; but the dawn had come, and he had 
 a message to give those waiting souls outside — the 
 souls who were being kept back from the ** Cradle of the 
 Gods " by that fear of the Eternal Womanhood. 
 
 "Set the door wide, Akbar," he said, and then his 
 voice merged into the " Sa/utaris." 
 
 So, as the crowd turned at the sound of the opening 
 door, the sound of the chanting voice, it saw, raised 
 above it, dim against an arched shadow, seen by the 
 grey light of daybreak and the flicker of two tall tapers, 
 a strange star-rayed cup shining in the clasped hands of 
 a man. An old man in a strange dress, chanting a 
 strange song. And the sight, by its very strangeness, 
 its claim to something beyond familiarity, was not 
 strange to that restless crowd, waiting for a sign, wait- 
 ing for something not in themselves. 
 
 " What is it ? What means it ? " 
 
 The whisper came like the soft hush of a wave ; and 
 above it the chant rose clearly, 
 
 " 'Tis Pidar Nariyan and his God ! " said those of tne 
 city who knew, as they fell back instinctively from the 
 raised path. And those who did not know followed suit 
 in awed bewilderment, till the way was clear, and the little 
 procession passed on slowly above the jammed mass of 
 humanity, above the sea of upturned expectant faces. 
 
 " 'Tis Pidar Nar^yan, who went with my father," said 
 one here and there. "Mayhap he goes now — let us 
 see." 
 
 " Yea ! let us see ! " answered others. 
 
 That slantwise limb of the union-jack of raised paths 
 
DAWN 
 
 293 
 
 which crossed from one corner to the other of the 
 courtyard — fro the door in the palace to the wide 
 archway through which the pilgrims always passed on 
 their way to the "Cradle of the Gods" — cleared itself 
 by common consent, edged itself with a thicker throng of 
 curious faces. Only in the middle it was barred by the 
 big old gun, by the " Teacher of Religion " as its legend 
 boasted, and by the man who claimed to be its mouth- 
 piece. 
 
 ¥ or jogi Gorakh-ndth, recognizing his adversary, rec- 
 ognizing the danger of his influence, had slipped from 
 his post above, and now stood before the gun, full in the 
 path, defending it with frenzied wavings of his chaplet 
 of skulls. 
 
 "Listen not, brothers! " he yelled. ''Jai Kali Ma! 
 Blood ! Blood ! Without blood is no remission of sins." 
 
 And now a new curiosity, a new interest, came to that 
 crowd of mere men. What would happen } What would 
 these two, mere men like themselves, do } Which was 
 backed by divine authority .'' That both claimed that 
 authority was clear. It held its breath, partly from the 
 desire for a sign from God, partly because of the desire 
 which humanity always has for a sign of the best man. 
 Let the two try which was the better. 
 
 So it waited, ready to approve either, till those two, 
 the Eastern and the Western sacerdotalisms, met face to 
 face, within two yards of each other, in the centre of 
 the courtyard, on the platform before the " Teacher of 
 Religion.'' 
 
 Then, not till then, Pidar Nar^yan ceased his chant, 
 shifted the pyx to his left hand, and with his right drew 
 the rapier hidden till then by his long robes. 
 
 " Ahaj A-ha-a,'' sighed the crowd approvingly. There 
 would be a bodily as well as a spiritual fight, iovjogi-jee's 
 chaplet of skulls swirled dangerously for both attack and 
 defence ; since a swinging blow from it would kill a 
 man, and its circling sweep keep him beyond sword- 
 point reach. 
 
 Which would be the better man — the better weapon ? 
 
 ''4 
 
 < 
 1 
 

 ri|. 
 
 1 , 
 
 H 11^ 
 
 r 5, . ' 
 
 i",^';' 
 
 294 
 
 r^^ /fosrs OF the lord 
 
 But Pidar Nar^yan did not attack. He only stood, 
 the pyx in one hand, the sword in the other — alterna- 
 ' 3 as it were — and called in a loud voice — 
 
 " Let me pass,y^^/ Goiakh-nith ! 
 
 *' Let me pass I say ! 
 
 " For I carry my GOD ! " 
 
 Over the whole courtyard, waking now from shadow 
 to light under the coming day, the claim echoed sharply ; 
 and the arrogance of it, the strength, the certainty of it, 
 sank deep into the souls of those who heard it. 
 
 There was not a sound, not a movement ; only a vast, 
 breathless expectancy, and Pidar Nardyan's fine old 
 face set like the nether mill-stone. Everything that 
 had ever been in him — love, passion, faith, worldly wis- 
 dom, sympathy — the grit of the whole man — rose up 
 and claimed the crowd. 
 
 " Let me pass ! " he cried again, in absolute command, 
 and this time the rapier, twisting like a snake, caught 
 the chaplet of skulls in its upward swirl, a dexterous 
 unexpected turn of the old fencer's wrist followed, send- 
 ing it flying from \^QJogi's hand. 
 
 The next instant (the rope on which they were strung 
 severed by the strain, by the rapier's edge), the skulls 
 were clattering, bounding like balls, like useless toys, on 
 the stone platform. 
 
 '* A-ha ! A-ha!'* came from the crowd; but the sigh 
 was but half content, and men looked at each other 
 wonderingly. Since, no matter which priest was the 
 better man, these were Mai Kali's drinking-cups. 
 
 The jogiy however, had fallen back a step, and Pidar 
 Narayan was in his place by the old gun. Pidar Nard- 
 yan and his strange God were now the ** Teachers of 
 Religion.'' What had they to say .? 
 
 The crowd had not to wait long, for Father Ninian's 
 voice, with that nameless ring in it which makes the 
 orator and makes the audience, was already in its ears. 
 
 " Listen ! Listen to me, for I carry in this cup the 
 Blood of Sacrifice. The Victim required by your God 
 and mine, by all the Gods, is here ! 
 
DAWN 
 
 295 
 
 Dnly stood, 
 ■ — alterna- 
 
 )m shadow 
 ed sharply ; 
 tainty of it, 
 t. 
 
 3nly a vast, 
 
 s fine old 
 
 thing that 
 
 i^orldly wis- 
 
 -rose up 
 
 : command, 
 ike, caught 
 dexterous 
 )wed, send- 
 
 /ere strung 
 
 the skulls 
 
 :ss toys, on 
 
 It the sigh 
 each other 
 »t was the 
 :-cups, 
 and Pidar 
 idar Nard- 
 '^eachers of 
 
 T Ninian's 
 makes the 
 1 its ears, 
 is cup the 
 your God 
 
 "We are free, brothers! you and I. The Eternal 
 Womanhood hath had Her toll, in full. The Great 
 Mother is appeased. There is no fear. 
 
 " Lift up your eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh 
 your help, and follow me and my God, to find yours." 
 
 He pointed with the sword — as he paused a second 
 for breath, for strength — to the mountains ; to those far 
 peaks which, now that the storm had ended, the earth- 
 atoms returned to earth, had begun to show spectral in 
 the dawn. To show shadowy, yet clear, with never a 
 wreath of mist or a wandering cloud to hide the hollow 
 whither the feet of millions had journeyed seeking 
 righteousness, and journeyed in vain. 
 
 Faint and far they showed against the faint, far sky, 
 but as Father Ninian pointed to them, a ray of light 
 from the still unseen sun below the visible horizon of 
 this world, a ray of light seeking perhaps another world 
 among the stars, found the heights of the holy hills in 
 its path, and dyed their snowdrifts red — blood red ! 
 
 At the sight a roar rose from the crowd. 
 
 '^Jai Kali Ma I She gives a sign ! The sacrifice is 
 there ! She is appeased ! He speaks the truth. Let 
 us follow him and his God ! " 
 
 " Ay ! as my father did," cried one. 
 
 "And mine!" 
 
 " And mine ! " assented some, while others forgot all 
 save pilgrimage in the shout — 
 
 " Rdm, Rdm, Sita Rdm ! " 
 
 ''Hdrd! Hdri! Hdri ! Hdrdf' 
 
 So, on that babel of sounds, Pidar Nar^yan's voice 
 rose steadily as, preceded by that ambling figure — 
 strangest of all acolytes — he walked on, chanting the 
 I2ist Psalm : — 
 
 *^Levavi oculos meos in monies ; unde veniet auxilium mihV* 
 
 The words were in an unknown tongue, the rhythm 
 strange, but the spirit, the idea, were familiar. It was 
 the song of someone seeking the " Cradle of the Gods," 
 as they were. 
 
296 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 u 
 
 " He carries his God, and that means all," said an 
 old man, pushing his way to follow. " The other had 
 none : how could he lead the way ? " 
 
 " That is true," assented many, following suit. 
 
 And some, shrugging their shoulders, said, "He is 
 mad. God has touched his brain. Then he goes the 
 way our fathers went. They lingered not beyond the 
 second dawn. Why should we.^" 
 
 " Rdm ! Rdm ! Sita Rdm / " 
 
 Thus, swiftly, the footfalls gathered in strength behind 
 the little procession, and no one dared to stop it ; not 
 even the Mahomedan sentry at the Fort gate, to whom 
 some of the agitators ran in their disappointment. He 
 only laughed contemptuously ; though his gravity re- 
 turned somewhat at his recognition of old Akbar Khdn. 
 
 " Lo ! that is a new walking for him ! " he muttered, 
 in an awed voice. " Truly, folk are right when they 
 say there is magic in these idolaters. Who would have 
 deemed him pilgrim .•* Well ! let him go, he and his 
 mummery. We soldiers can do without priests and 
 Hindoos!" 
 
 He twirled his mustache fiercely, and wondered when 
 his comrades would return victorious from the gaol, and 
 give the word for plunder. That was all he cared for. 
 
 "Ay!" assented an angry voice, joining the group, 
 " we can do without the fools. There be plenty of wise 
 men left." 
 
 " Plenty," put in another ; " but their mood is differ- 
 ent. See how they wander ! " 
 
 It was true. The crowd had broken into groups, and 
 from these, pilgrims, singly, or in smaller groups, were 
 drifting after the lessening sound of that chanting 
 voice. Not so much from any belief in Pidar Nar^yan, 
 not even because of his lead over, but because it was 
 the old way ; the way worn by the feet of their fathers, 
 and their fathers' fathers. 
 
 So jogi Gorakh-ndth, who, now the coast was clear, had 
 sprung aloft on the old gun, once more attempting to 
 regain his empire, failed egregiously. The crowd 
 
FOILED 
 
 297 
 
 ' said an 
 other had 
 
 lit. 
 
 1, "He is 
 ; goes the 
 jyond the 
 
 th behind 
 op it ; not 
 , to whom 
 lent. He 
 gravity re- 
 bar KhAn. 
 
 muttered, 
 vhen they 
 ^ould have 
 e and his 
 riests and 
 
 iered when 
 J gaol, and 
 ared for. 
 :he group, 
 ity of wise 
 
 d is differ- 
 
 passed him by till a big countryman, with a lumbering 
 jest, asked him if he was sure he had picked up the right 
 skull to put on his own shoulders. Then it laughed 
 uproariously. 
 
 " Best come on to the Pool of Immortality," sug- 
 gested a conspirator, consolingly, as he hurried past. 
 "Tis no use here. The foqls have followed after 
 strange gods and men. But at the Pool there are tens 
 of thousands to one here ; and they are weary waiting. 
 Besides, 'tis nearer the gaol. Between the two success 
 will lie." 
 
 "Yea," added another, "that was the first plan — 
 the soldiers and the Fort spoilt it. But the Pool and the 
 gaol remain." 
 
 Jogi Gorakh-n^th, with a scowl, gathered up his skulls 
 to a bundle and followed hastily. He would at least be 
 out of hearing of that chanting voice. 
 
 It had reached the last verse of its Psalm now, and 
 faltered a little over the words : — 
 
 ^^Dominus cttstodiat tntroitum tiium et exitum tuiim: 
 ex hoc et usque in saeculum^ 
 
 But the echo of the footsteps behind filled up the 
 blanks. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 FOILED 
 
 ' t 
 
 roups, and 
 oups, were 
 chanting 
 r Nar^yan, 
 use it was 
 iir fathers, 
 
 ; clear, had 
 mpting to 
 he crowd 
 
 On the gaol or the Pool of Immortality lay the hopes 
 of those whom Pidar Nardyan had so far discomfited by 
 his arrogant claim to stand between heaven and earth ; 
 in other words, to be in personal relations with the Great 
 Awarder of gaols and immortalities, forgivenesses, and 
 punishments. 
 
 But the stars in their courses, hidden though they 
 had been by the storm-darkness, had used that very 
 darkness to the due maintenance of law and order as 
 they wheeled serenely to meet the coming dawn. 
 
 'I 
 
 \ 
 
i;; 
 
 'fi, 
 
 298 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 When Lance, for instance — his heart torn in twain 
 by his desire to follow Erda's fate at all costs and his 
 knowledge that, if he was to do the best for others he 
 must leave her to face it alone — had struck down stream 
 on Am-ma's strange craft, his sole intention had been to 
 rouse the police camp, and secure what help he could 
 for the gaol. 
 
 But the darkness set him another task. For, after 
 drifting past the spit, whence he had meant to cut across 
 by land to the bridge of boats, and so, creeping past the 
 city, find the cam.p beyond it, he had lost himself abso- 
 lutely in the maze of sand-banks and shallow channels 
 which, when the river was low, as it was now, lay like a 
 network between the deep stream of the Hara, and the 
 deep stream of the Hari. Lost himself so utterly that, 
 realizing his own bewilderment, he had called himself a 
 fool for having lost himself! 
 
 A curious discouragement came to him. Yet it made 
 him more dogged and persistent, even while the hope- 
 lessness of finding his way grew every second. Surely, 
 thought he, he could not be such a fool as to fail ! 
 
 Sometimes a sudden belief that he really had had some 
 faint indication of his bearings would make him put all 
 his young strength into the paddle, until once more a 
 soft, yielding, yet irresistible, impact came to tell him 
 that he had failed again, that he was on another sand- 
 bank, and another, and another! The dull concussion 
 of them seemed to pass into his brain; he found himself 
 fumbling on almost aimlessly, despite his doggedness, 
 his mind busy with imagining the things which might 
 be happening in the dark around him. 
 
 For all he knew close by — 
 
 There lay the sting ! It was suffocating to be set, as it 
 were, in the solid darkness like — he thought of a fly in 
 amber, the birds he had limed in his boyhood, finally of 
 a death mask. That was more like it — he felt as the 
 corpse must feel — clogged, hampered, helpless! 
 
 In such conditions minutes seem hours ; and Lance, in 
 reality, had not been drifting about for half of one before 
 
FOILED 
 
 299 
 
 ■n in twain 
 sts and his 
 r others he 
 own stream 
 had been to 
 Ip he could 
 
 For, after 
 o cut across 
 ing past the 
 imself abso- 
 3W channels 
 V, lay like a 
 ira, and the 
 utterly that, 
 id himself a 
 
 Yet it made 
 e the hope- 
 tid. Surely, 
 
 fail ! 
 
 ad had some 
 him put all 
 )nce more a 
 to tell him 
 lother sand- 
 
 1 concussion 
 )und himself 
 doggedness, 
 vhich might 
 
 be set, as it 
 it of a fly in 
 od, finally of 
 ; felt as the 
 iless ! 
 
 nd Lance, in 
 3f one before 
 
 the certainty that his mission must inevitably be useless 
 unless he could fulfil it more expeditiously, made him 
 resolve on trying conclusions with the river at first hand. 
 He was a good swimmer. As he told himself this, the 
 first pulse of gratitude he had ever felt for the big bully 
 who had chucked him, a small boy in his first term at 
 Harrow, into " Ducker " to take his chance, came to him ; 
 for those few minutes of despairing effort had taught 
 him more than mere swimming ; they had taught him 
 to trust himself in water. 
 
 More, at any rate, than in a beastly contrivance made 
 of beds and footballs, with no stem, no stern, and a 
 devilish habit of spinning in every eddy like a teetotum ! 
 
 The mere condemnation of Am-ma's craft, being a 
 prelude to better things, raised his spirits. He flung 
 off his clothes, and, knowing he could not hope to keep 
 his revolver dry, improvised a waistcloth out of the 
 silk sash he wore instead of a waistcoat, in which to 
 stick the hunting-knife that was his only other weapon. 
 As he did so, he thought of the deer the knife had killed ; 
 as men think idly, irrelevantly, of such trivialities when 
 their attention is really concentrated on something that 
 is, as yet, outside experience. And Lance, as he slipped 
 into the water, knew himself prepared to swim or wade, 
 but knew nothing else. 
 
 So, doggedly as before, and infinitely quicker, he went 
 on through the darkness ; sometimes feeling himself in 
 the cool water, sometimes finding his feet on warm 
 sand, sometimes parting a way, he knew not where, 
 through the low tamarisk and high grass marking an 
 island. If he could have guessed which island, or even 
 known which way his face was set, these light swishing 
 touches might have been guides ; but he knew nothing. 
 
 Until, after a time, a faint far glow, a mere suspicion 
 of something not outer darkness, showed on his left. 
 Even so, he could not guess whether that meant the 
 gaol side, or the city side of the rivers. If the former, 
 could the gaol have been fired by those devils } 
 
 The thought made him set his teeth, and, dry sand 
 

 m¥^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i ; 
 1 ■' 
 
 ^^ 
 
 i 
 
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 \v 
 
 
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 1 
 
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 i 
 
 I N 
 
 4 
 
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 11 
 
 
 
 300 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 being beneath his feet, run on recklessly towards the 
 glow. 
 
 Only for a yard or two, however ; then he pulled up 
 short, amazed to find that it was not far, but near ; that 
 it came from the ground, from a leaping fire of tamarisk 
 branches within a stone's throw of him. A step or two 
 more, in fact, showed him a cooking-pot, the remains of 
 some food, a familiar fishing-net, and a chrysalis-looking 
 figure wrapped in a blanket and half-buried in the sand. 
 One of the fisher folk, by all that was lucky ! If anyone 
 could tell, they could. 
 
 It was only a slender stem of tiger-grass which 
 snapped under his feet, but the noise was sufficient. 
 The sleeper sprang to his like a wild animal, the 
 blanket falling from him, one lithe arm making for the 
 long spear stuck in the sand beside him. 
 
 Gu-gu ! The missing Gu-gu ! 
 
 Lance had him back in his sand-bed before hand and 
 spear met. There was no struggle. Gu-gu, knowing 
 himself helpless, lay limp, slack, every muscle proclaim- 
 ing capitulation ; in so far showing himself something 
 less than a wild animal, which struggles till it dies, reck- 
 less of odds. But, in truth, Gu-gu, with the certainty of 
 speedy extinction before him, due to that cursed ghost, 
 had given in to fate utterly, all round. Death would 
 come when it came. All that remained, theiefore, was 
 to make others suffer if he could. Especially those 
 who were responsible for altering the currents of the 
 river. With one of these on top of you, this was im- 
 possible ; but time might bring opportunity. 
 
 "You devil ! " cried Lance, throttling the abject jelly 
 by way of emphasis, "you know all about this business, 
 of course ; but now I've found you, you'll have to do 
 mine, — or I'll kill you. Do you understand.^ Now, 
 which way is the town }'' 
 
 Gu-gu pointed in the direction whence Lance had 
 come. The latter frowned, realizing that it was im- 
 possible to know if the brute spoke truth, but that, 
 unfortunately, he must be trusted. 
 
FOILED 
 
 301 
 
 irards the 
 
 ulled up 
 ear ; that 
 
 tamarisk 
 ?p or two 
 emains of 
 s-looking 
 the sand. 
 
 f anyone 
 
 ss which 
 sufficient, 
 imal, the 
 ig for the 
 
 hand and 
 knowing 
 proclaim- 
 jomething 
 Jies, reck- 
 Ttainty of 
 sed ghost, 
 ith would 
 sfore, was 
 ally those 
 Its of the 
 3 was im- 
 
 bject jelly 
 
 business, 
 
 ive to do 
 
 It Now, 
 
 ance had 
 
 was im- 
 
 but that, 
 
 "Then get up," he said curtly, taking care to keep 
 the jelly within reach of his knife, " and show me the 
 way there. I'll give you a hundred rupees if you do ; 
 and if you don't — " He gave the yielding flesh an 
 explanatory prick. 
 
 " Does the Hiizoor mean the Pool of Immortality } " 
 asked Gu-gu, affably ; and the words made Lance re- 
 member that fruitless waiting for the water. 
 
 •* Ah ! you did manage that swindle, did you .'* " he re- 
 plied savagely, "and of course you were camping out 
 of the way. I see ! No ! I don't want to go there yet. 
 To the bridge ! So quick, march ! or swim ; you can tell 
 me about the otb r as we go along. It may be useful." 
 
 Another prick, with the knife he held in one hand, 
 while his other clutched firmly on Gu-gu's hemp-strung 
 waist-belt of blue beads, started them. So they went 
 on till the sand grew colder, less resistant, changed to 
 water beneath their feet ; then Lance's two hands — and 
 the knife — came down on Gu-gu's bareback. "Strike 
 out," he said briefly ; " I'll help." 
 
 The two pair of legs and the one pair of hands forged 
 ahead into the darkness none the less rapidly because 
 the second pair of hands were resting, — with some- 
 thing in them — on yielding flesh. The fact indeed, or 
 something else, seemed to make Gu-gu confidential. If 
 the Hiiaoory he said, with a shameless comprehension 
 which made Lance inclined to use the knife then and 
 there, wanted to give the alarm at the police camp, he 
 was taking a long roatl to it. He, Gu-gu, could show 
 him a shorter, if the Huzoor would trust him. 
 
 For a second Lance hesitated. He could not see the 
 man's face ; but there was a sort of cunning anxiety in 
 the tone which was doubtful. Then, remembering that, 
 short or long, he was equally at the man's mercy if he 
 chose to brave results — though there seemed to be no 
 reason why he should — he said quietly, — 
 
 " I told you to take the shortest." 
 
 " The Hu2oor can dive } " asked Gu-gu. " He should,, 
 since he swims so strong." 
 
 i.r 
 
 t ! 
 
t >;| 
 
 ! > 
 
 I ' t 
 
 ! U 
 
 »,,'. ». 
 
 
 
 i;1 K: 
 
 :| 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 \ 
 
 302 
 
 r^£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 " Dive ! " echoed Lance. " Yes, why ? " 
 
 Because the short way, Gu-gu explained, was by 
 an underground passage which could be only reached 
 from the river. Undoubtedly the Husoor was right, 
 the passage had to do with the miracle ; but there must 
 have been more than one miracle in the old days, since 
 there was quite a network of canals and caves, which 
 could be more or less flooded at will. All the river 
 people knew of them, but few ventured in ; there was 
 nothing to be gained by doing so, as a rule! And the 
 dive to reach the passage was long and awkward. But 
 if the Htisoor would trust — 
 
 "Go ahead!" broke in Lance, sharply. He had to 
 trust ; and time meant everything. Besides, even in 
 diving, he could have his revenge on that sleek, yielding 
 back! 
 
 For answer, Gu-gu altered his course with almost 
 suspicious alacrity ; though, once more. Lance could 
 see no reason for treachery. A hundred rupees was a 
 big bribe to a man who evidently had no personal in- 
 terest in the matter ; else, why should he have been on 
 the island instead of in the row. But then Lance did 
 not know of that call to death. 
 
 So, through the dark, the one pair of hands and two 
 pairs of legs forged ahead till a sudden arrest of the 
 former gave Lance a dull shock once more. But this 
 time Gu-gu's voice came quite cheerfully : " The city wall, 
 Huzoorl This slave must feel if he goes up or down." 
 
 Apparently it was up, and after a few minutes of crab- 
 like edging Gu-gu's voice came again : — 
 
 "The tunnel is below. Protector of the Poor. Let 
 the most noble take the longest breath he ever breathed, 
 then strike down till this mean one's legs cease moving. 
 The most noble one's must cease also. The rest will 
 this dust-like one accomplish. Save the breath. TJiat 
 is in the Hiisoor's own keeping. Therefore let him take 
 time for filling ; and when he is ready let him signal this 
 slave with — with a knife-prick if he chooses ! " 
 
 The cool grasp of the position made Lance smile, 
 
FOILED 
 
 303 
 
 was by 
 reached 
 LS right, 
 ire must 
 ^s, since 
 s, which 
 he river 
 ere was 
 And the 
 •d. But 
 
 had to 
 even in 
 yielding 
 
 almost 
 e could 
 bs was a 
 jonal in- 
 been on 
 ince did 
 
 ind two 
 t of the 
 3ut this 
 ity wall, 
 down." 
 of crab- 
 
 r. Let 
 reathed, 
 moving, 
 ■est will 
 . That 
 im take 
 nal this 
 
 ! smile, 
 
 though the situation, he knew, was grave enough. That 
 breath to be drawn might be his last ; all the more reason 
 why he could have wished it less full of sand ! 
 
 For the storm was now at its fiercest. Even here 
 out on the river, over the water, the air seemed solid. 
 And it had a vibration that could be felt on the bare 
 skin. As he drew in that long breath before trusting 
 himself to the unseen man whom he held within reach 
 of the grim signal — and something sharper should there 
 be sign of treachery — Lance told himself that tne water 
 could scarcely be more suffocating than the air. Then 
 — the sleek skin under his hand shrinking from the 
 knife-prick — the two pairs of legs and the one pair of 
 arms struck down. 
 
 It was almost a relief at fir:' to get rid of the stinging 
 dust in one's face ; almost a relief not to breathe. But 
 when, after a few seconds, the legs in front of him grew 
 rigid, and nothing was left to to be done save to hold on 
 desperately to a waist-belt of bl'je beads and one's own 
 breath at the same time, the sense of suffocation re- 
 turned, and the question, " How much longer ? " seemed 
 to throb in his brain. 
 
 He gripped everything he had to grip tighter. But 
 his own body seemed to grip his mind tighter still. He 
 could feel the clutch of his veins — a whole corded net- 
 work of them — could see them ! A corded, pulsing 
 network edged with p ismatic light, sending stars into 
 the darkness, beating time to the singing in his ears, to 
 the fierce duel between the desire to gasp and the deter- 
 mination to hold on, — beating time to the confused rush 
 of thoughts which ended in one — " This is drowning ! " 
 
 It made his clutch tighter. Gu-gu, at least, should 
 drown too. That was the last conscious thought. It 
 merged into a frantic, insistent clamour for air ! air ! air ! 
 till something cold hit him full on the face and forced 
 him into a quick, gasping cry, that left him senseless. 
 
 When he came to himself, as he did a moment or two 
 afterwards, he was still clutching the waist-belt of blue 
 beads, and the touch of it lulled him to an instant's 
 
 /; 
 
304 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 fir' ' ' 
 
 m 
 
 i|#i!| 
 
 
 sheer relief. The dive was over ; they must be in the 
 cave ; the cold that had hit him in the face must have 
 been the air. 
 
 But what was he lying upon ? Surely rock ! And 
 the hand he moved to feel it brought the blue beads 
 with it unresistingly. 
 
 Gu-gu ! where was Gu-gu } 
 
 Gone ! And the knife too. It had been used to sever 
 the hempen string of the belt. 
 
 Curious. It might have been used for a different and 
 more deadly purpose; but you could never count on 
 what fellows would do — even when they were treach- 
 erous. 
 
 Lance thought this dreamily, before he realized more 
 than the fact that he was alive ; not drowned. 
 
 Then he sat up hastily and faced the truth that he 
 was alone once more ; alone in that network of under- 
 ground passages and caves of which Gu-gu had spoken. 
 
 Was there any chance of his getting out of it } Not by 
 the dive, certainly. Without help that was impossible. 
 He set himself to remember what his guide had said in 
 reply to the questions with which he had been purposely 
 plied. 
 
 First, as to light. If Gu-gu was to be trusted the 
 materials for this must be close at hand. Lance rose 
 cautiously and felt about the ledge on which he lay and 
 the walls of rock about him, and ere long came on what 
 he sought. Flint and steel, a box of tinder, a bottle of 
 oil, and a rag torch hung in an old bit of fishing-net to a 
 peg that was driven into a crevice. 
 
 So far, good ; and after a minute these enabled him to 
 see that he was in a sort of vaulted well, half hewn out 
 of rock, half built in with brick. It was filled to some 
 three feet or so with water, except in one corner, where 
 the flooring shelved down to an archway. There it was 
 deeper. This must be the opening of the tunnel through 
 which they had dived, and through which, doubtless, 
 Gu-gu had escaped ; for he was not likely to have 
 braved the intricate passages without a light. This 
 
FOILED 
 
 305 
 
 ed to sever 
 
 ilized more 
 
 thought made Lance look to see how much oil the 
 bottle contained. 
 
 There nas only a mere driblet at the bottom. Plainly, 
 therefore, he could pause no longer ; so, instantly, with- 
 out further thought, he waded across the pool and ran 
 along the only passage which led from it. He had to 
 stoop as he ran, and from the feel to his feet he guessed 
 that the passage led upwards first, then downwards ; 
 apparently, too, in a perfectly straight line. The river, 
 therefore, must be behind him, and he tried to make this 
 point a fixed one, so as to give him some notion of his 
 bearings. 
 
 After a hundred yards or so he emerged into a second 
 cave or chamber, also nearly waist-deep in water. From 
 this several passages opened, some too small to admit of 
 a man passing through them. These, then, must be the 
 canals of which Gu-gu had spoken ; one of them, pos- 
 sibly, that which should have supplied the Pool with 
 Immortality. The memory of that crowd of eager, 
 patient faces, disappointed by such a miserable trick, 
 made Lance feel pitiful ; then his pity brought a sudden 
 practical suggestion. Why not open the sluice, or what- 
 ever it was, now, and give the miracle } It would at 
 least keep some of the crew quiet when it came, at 
 dawn ; the dawn which might be so fatal to quiet — the 
 dawn which must, surely, be close at hand. 
 
 He raised the torch and saw, close beside him, a foot 
 or two above the present level of the water, a clumsy 
 closed stone conduit with an iron handle. It was a rude 
 primitive tap, no doubt, by which the levels could be 
 raised. Without further thought, he turned it, and 
 smiled to find himself right, as water poured out, filling 
 the vaulted chamber with sound. Then, without 
 further pause, he passed on down the biggest of the 
 passages leading from the chamber ; since that seemed 
 the most likely one. After a while, however, the pas- 
 sage narrowed, seemed in danger of ending altogether ; 
 so he harked back. 
 
 There was no longer any sound in the chamber when 
 
 ! { 
 
3o6 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I ! 
 
 "''S 
 
 
 
 he returned to it, and the level of the water had risen 
 almost to ihe floor of the passage in which he stood, 
 wondering which of the other outlets he had best try. 
 The choice was a case of sheer chance, of course, he 
 told himself ; a mere backing of one's luck. But, as he 
 paused to make it, something cold struck on his feet, 
 causing him to look down in sudden surprise. 
 
 The water was still rising. That must be stopped, 
 anyhow, unless he was to be drowned out like a sewer 
 rat. 
 
 He stuck the torch into a cleft in the rock beside him, 
 hung the net to it, and swam over to the conduit, which 
 was already submerged. But the handle which had 
 turned so easily was stiff now ; possibly because of the 
 pressure of the water, possibly because there was some 
 other rude mechanism of which he was unaware. Any- 
 how, after a few trials he realized that he was helpless 
 until the water had found its own level. 
 
 But what was that ? Who could tell .-* Would it rise, 
 and rise, and rise, till it filled the whole place ? 
 
 Who could tell } 
 
 It was not fear which clutched at his heart — only a 
 vague self-pity ; almost an amused wonder that this 
 Immortality for others might bring Death to him. 
 
 He looked up into the vaulted arch above him, 
 then to the, as yet, dry passages which he could just 
 see, as darker arches of shadow. 
 
 Unless one of them rose abruptly to a higher level — 
 and the chance that one did, or that he should find it, 
 was remote — he would be wiser to stay here, and see 
 what happened. The roof was at least higher. 
 
 He swam back to the torch and, holding on to the 
 crevices of the wall, waited. 
 
 Still rising. He shifted the torch to a higher crevice 
 and waited again, a dull curiosity taking possession of 
 him. 
 
 Still rising. He wondered, suddenly, whether it 
 would not have been better for him to have gone back 
 the way he had come. The passage had certainly 
 
lad risen 
 le stood, 
 best try. 
 )urse, he 
 Jut, as he 
 his feet, 
 
 stopped, 
 e a sewer 
 
 side him, 
 lit, which 
 hich had 
 se of the 
 was some 
 'e. Any- 
 helpless 
 
 Id it rise, 
 
 — only a 
 that this 
 im. 
 
 ove him, 
 :ould just 
 
 ir level — 
 Id find it, 
 2, and see 
 
 an to the 
 
 er crevice 
 Sv*^ssion of 
 
 hether it. 
 
 ;one back 
 
 certainly 
 
 FOILED 
 
 307 
 That 
 
 seemed to ascend, and it was a question of levels, 
 was all. A mere question of levels. 
 
 He shifted the torch again. It was dying down now, 
 the rags showing charred, cindery. But as he fed it 
 with oil and it flared up and smoked, the thought came 
 to him that it was using air needlessly, making suffoca- 
 tion more imminent. 
 
 He blew it out deliberately. If a man had to die, he 
 might as well die in the dark. He was glad, a moment 
 later, of the darkness. It shut out reality and left him 
 to dreams ; to vague hopes, to kindly forgetfulness, to 
 Erda's face. How plucky she had been ! Well ! even 
 if he had to be drowned like a rat in a sewer, he must 
 not be behind her. The pathetic comfort of kindly 
 memory, which with strange unreason — since it en- 
 hances the value of the life that is being left — makes 
 the face of death seem less stern to poor humanity, 
 came to him and absorbed him. If he died and she lived, 
 she would not forget him ; he knew that. 
 
 And still the water rose. 
 
 It must be rising now, he thought, in the Pool of Im- 
 mortality, and the eager, patient faces that had been 
 waiting for it so long must be showing glad in the grey 
 light of the dawn. 
 
 For the dawn was coming to the world, though he 
 would not see it. Strange, incomprehensible thought, 
 even though the reality of it was so certain, so close. 
 Incomprehensible } Say rather, impossible ; frankly im- 
 possible ! He could not be going to die ! 
 
 He shifted the unlit torch to a still higher crevice — 
 almost a ledge in the rock — and waited incredulously 
 for the water to rise. 
 
 And as he waited in the dark, someone else in the 
 grey dawn, to whom death was more familiar, to whom, 
 in a way, it was the one great certainty of Life, was feel- 
 ing the same frank incredulity at the thought of the 
 immediate future. 
 
 For Dr. Dillon, when he found himself alone on the 
 
 ' H 
 n 
 
v-rp 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 B^1 
 
 il 
 
 308 
 
 TWZi HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 roof of the gaol gate with an unconscious woman and a 
 child, knew that the end could not be far off. With 
 Vincent dead, and Eugene cut off by the stern necessity 
 for keeping that door shut, he could not hope for more 
 than a brief, savage resistance — and then? Failure, in- 
 evitable failure, unless help came ; and that seemed far 
 as ever. 
 
 As yet, dazed by that closing of the door, that desper- 
 ate, triumphant death of the man with his back to it — 
 a death which had gained them nothing — the prisoners 
 were still huddled together, crushed out of further action, 
 at the far end of the alley. So the courtyard was clear, 
 free from assailants. But that could only be for a min- 
 ute or two. There was an ominous rending and hewing 
 at the gate below ; ere long those outside would be inside, 
 and with a leader who would know what to do. So life 
 could only be an affair of moments ; yet it seemed incredi- 
 ble, more than incredible, that all his strong will and 
 determinati )n would not avail even to save those help- 
 less creatures in his charge. He stooped hurriedly and 
 lifted the still unconscious woman in his arms, carried 
 her into the turret, closed the door on her and the child 
 — frightened now for the first time at her mother's 
 silence — and returned to wait and watch. It was all 
 he could do for them, unless fate gave him a chance of 
 appealing for them to Roshan Khan. But even then 
 there could be no bargaining, no compromise, no sur- 
 render ! 
 
 A sharp crash, a sudden rise in the babel of voices 
 below, warned him that the gate had given, partially at 
 least. The next instant a soldier or two, ignorant of 
 that dead man with his back against the closed gate, ran 
 lightly down the alley calling on the prisoners to make 
 way. One of them was Roshan Kh^n ; but George Dil- 
 lon did not waste a cartridge even on him. He was re- 
 serving his fire for that storming of the broken stairs 
 which must come when the assailants found themselves 
 still foiled. 
 
 In truth Roshan Kh^n had this same storming in his 
 
FOILED 
 
 309 
 
 man and a 
 off. With 
 necessity 
 e for more 
 "ailure, in- 
 seemed far 
 
 lat desper- 
 Lck to it — 
 2 prisoners 
 her action, 
 
 was clear, 
 : for a min- 
 ,nd hewing 
 1 be inside, 
 3. So life 
 red incredi- 
 ig will and 
 :hose help- 
 rriedly and 
 ms, carried 
 d the child 
 r mother's 
 
 It was all 
 
 I chance of 
 
 even then 
 
 se, no sur- 
 
 l of voices 
 partially at 
 gnorant of 
 d gate, ran 
 rs to make 
 jeorge Dil- 
 He was re- 
 )ken stairs 
 themselves 
 
 ning in his 
 
 mind as all he cared for, since it would pit him against 
 his rival, against Vincent Dering, who he knew was on 
 the roof. And so, with that odd acquired sense of 
 honour, fair play, God knows what, he had been plan- 
 ning, as his men battered down the gate, how best to 
 compass those fair odds which were necessary alike to 
 his sense of justice and injustice — for the injustice 
 of his own position cried aloud for proof that he was 
 worth a better one. So he had settled to complete that 
 liberating of the prisoners which, with the help of the 
 keys, ought already to be in hand. This done, the gen- 
 eral rabble would be eager for freedom, eager for plun- 
 der, eager to get to the town and raise it, eager for all 
 things for which he cared no jot. Then would be his 
 time. Then — he did not even try to formulate how — he 
 could find himself face to face, at fair odds, with Vincent 
 Dering. Wild memories of duels he had read about in 
 western books, duels with others, who had nothing to do 
 with the quarrel, looking on, occurred to him. 
 
 Yes ! that would satisfy him. To have it out, till death ! 
 
 He set his teeth as he forced a peremptory way 
 through the crowd at the end of the alley, which hid 
 the closed door until one actually stood beside it. 
 
 Then he stood transfixed, for he saw Vincent Bering's 
 dead body still backed by that closed door, still guard- 
 ing it, unarmed. There was a curious look of content 
 in the dead face, and Roshan, grasping its meaning by 
 intuition, turned from it with a curse, knowing himself 
 forestalled, cheated. 
 
 "'Twas not our fault, Khdn-jee,'' protested a voice, 
 quickly ; "the swine fought till the other one had locked 
 the door in our faces, and so — " 
 
 Roshan struck at the voice fiercely. Not forestalled, 
 not cheated, only ; but outdone, conquered ! His rival 
 had died a hero's death, and he — he might live to be 
 hanged ! 
 
 A rage of despair, of despite, seized on him. His one 
 real object gone, the whole hideous folly of the rest made 
 him fling up his hands passionately as he dashed back 
 
 /■■ 
 
Ifi! 
 
 III 
 
 t 
 
 i'r? 
 
 :!!f 
 
 I-- 
 
 jf 
 
 310 
 
 T//£ HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 to the gate, neither knowing nor caring what he v»as go- 
 ing to do next. 
 
 Storm that feeble garrison on the roof ? those broken 
 stairs, every crevice, every foothold in which stood out 
 clear, easy, in the light of the search-ray ? Was that a 
 man's task ? 
 
 Confused, dazed, he ran on, followed instinctively by 
 the crowd, wondering what he would be at. 
 
 George Dillon, seeing the rush, covered the first foot- 
 hold of the broken stairs with his rifle, and waited for 
 a man to show on it. 
 
 But none came. 
 
 Just as the rush reached the courtyard, Eugene Smith's 
 search-ray, having exhausted itself, went out, leaving, 
 not darkness, but the grey mystery of dawn, in which 
 for an instant all sound, all movement, seemed arrested. 
 There was one utterly peaceful second, and then, from 
 behind the splintered gateway, from the shadows of the 
 tunnel, came a breathless voice : — 
 
 " Close the outer gate, sergeant ; if you can, you have 
 them in a trap ! a regular trap ! " 
 
 A trap! 
 
 The word reached those who had followed Roshan 
 ir his causeless retreat. Had he foreseen this "i Was 
 be escaping from the trap } Their eyes flew to the 
 tunnel, but the light which, till then, had lit up its dark- 
 ness, the swinging lamp by which the batterers of the 
 gate had worked, was dashed down by someone's hand 
 — a small, white hand — and there was nothing to be 
 seen. Only that voice to be heard repeating, " They're 
 in a trap ; keep them there ! " 
 
 Keep them ! Not if they could fight their way into 
 the open ! The cry rose in a second : — 
 
 " A trap. Yea ! a trap ! Out of it ! Outside, brothers, 
 outside, where we can fight free ! " 
 
 Roshan, who would have paused at this chance of 
 fair resistance, was caught in the rush from behind, and 
 found himself through the gap in the gate fighting des- 
 perately in the crowd, calling on his men to rally. But 
 
V ADDIO DEL MARITO 
 
 311 
 
 he vtas go- 
 ose broken 
 stood out 
 V'as that a 
 
 ictively by 
 
 first foot- 
 waited for 
 
 ne Smith's 
 t, leaving, 
 , in which 
 i arrested, 
 then, from 
 ows of the 
 
 I, you have 
 
 ;d Roshan 
 [lis ? Was 
 ew to the 
 p its dark- 
 •ers of the 
 ►ne's hand 
 ling to be 
 " They're 
 
 r way into 
 
 , brothers, 
 
 chance of 
 ihind, and 
 hting des- 
 ally. But 
 
 they had construed his half-frenzied flight from that look 
 on Vincent Bering's face into a lead, and they were 
 mixed up inextricably with the horde of undisciplined 
 conspirators who, having been till now safe under 'cr 
 of the tunnelled archway, yelled for the open, n so 
 much in which to fight, but in which to run away. 
 
 The mere handful of men, whose number was fortu- 
 nately hidden by the darkness, could never have pre- 
 vented the rush, but a quick wit amongst them seized 
 on a possibility, and the breathless voice called, " Let 
 them pass — let them pass ! " 
 
 So, in a second or two, amid confused yells, and mad 
 slashings at friends and foes alike, the positions were 
 reversed. The inside was out, the outside in, like 
 Brian O'Lynn's breeches ; and Dr. Dillon's first hint at 
 what the amazing turn of affairs below him meant came 
 with the words : — 
 
 " Barricade that gate. Sharp as you know how. 
 They won't give us long." 
 
 " Is that you, Carlyon } " he called doubtfully, leaning 
 over the parapet and peering into that grey mystery of 
 dawn. 
 
 The figure he saw, a woman in a white dress and a 
 scarlet mess jacket, made him doubt the evidence of his 
 own eyes. But the answer in a woman's voice, with a 
 quick breath in it, sent his back in something between 
 a laugh and a sob. 
 
 " Then he isn't here ! Oh ! what can have become 
 of him.?" 
 
 There was no doubt that this was a woman ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 L* ADDIO DEL MARITO 
 
 Once outside, where they could discern friend from 
 foe, the troopers instantly realized their mistake, and 
 rallied round Roshan, 
 
_-.i.ajg.^.^..,t-. 
 
 ' 'f 
 
 ! I 
 
 !i 
 
 312 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 But it was too late for that now. As he stood, cen- 
 tring them, there was a wild contempt, a vague relief, 
 in his face. He knew now where his sympathies lay. 
 Not with these men, treacherous to their salt, but with 
 those who could hold — who had held — their own 
 against all odds. Yes ! even with that dead figure, still 
 with its back to the door that must not be opened. 
 
 The thought stung and seared like hot iron. 
 
 No ! Not with that ! not with that ! That was — 
 What .? — 
 
 He could have killed himself for the unwavering testi- 
 mony which every scrap of him gave to the heroism, 
 the defiance of such a death. He knew he would give 
 everything to die one like it ; and he knew he could 
 not — not now. He knew he must die a useless death, 
 to save himself from a worse one. 
 
 " There is no real harm done, Khdn-jee'' broke in his 
 \2ociQ.t.-dtiffadar in hurried excuse, seeing the expression 
 on his face. " We can get ir easily again. Those hold- 
 ing the horses say there were but a score of them all 
 told — the cursed Sikhs — God knows how they got out 
 of the Fort ! I thought we had them safe. And there 
 was a woman with them — a Miss-^^^^" — he laughed 
 savagely. "Well! if they be brave as men, these infidel 
 women, let them die like men — the hell-cats! " 
 
 Roshan Khan looked at the man, whom he had known 
 for years, as if he had never seen him before. And the 
 thought of another woman — with his own blood in her 
 veins — who had been brave also, and who had died — 
 died by his hand — returned to sweep him from every 
 bearing, from every landmark, eastern or western, and 
 leave him rudderless, drifting, in a storm of sheer de- 
 spair. He laughed suddenly — an insane laugh — at the 
 hideousness, the hopelessness of it all. Laughed like the 
 madman he was for the time, at the horror which drove 
 him mad. 
 
 " Kill her, if thou wilt, fool ! I have done my share 
 of that," he cried brutally, striking out at the voice as 
 he had struck at the other which had told him of Vin- 
 
Z' ADDIO DEL MARITO 
 
 313 
 
 tood, cen- 
 ue relief, 
 thies lay. 
 , but with 
 heir own 
 igure, still 
 ned. 
 
 at was — 
 
 ring testi- 
 heroism, 
 
 ould give 
 he could 
 
 ess death, 
 
 oke in his 
 ;xpression 
 hose hold- 
 t them all 
 ly got out 
 Vnd there 
 e laughed 
 3se infidel 
 
 ad known 
 And the 
 3d in her 
 ,d died — 
 om every 
 item, and 
 sheer de- 
 — at the 
 d like the 
 ich drove 
 
 my share 
 
 voice as 
 
 I of Vin- 
 
 cent's victory. Striking as he felt inclined to strike at 
 anything and everything ; most of all at the hateful con- 
 fusion in himself, and in his world. So, without another 
 word, he broke through the circle of troopers, dashed to 
 where his horse awaited him, and was off like a whirl- 
 wind ; that strange possession of the Oriental races, 
 which, in a way, claims kindred with the Berserk rage 
 of the north, thrilling to his finger-tips ; yet held in 
 check, diverted from sheer, mad, uncalculating desire to 
 kill, by that acquired sense of fair play. 
 
 " He goes to rouse the city," said some of his men, 
 following him hurriedly. 
 
 "And time, too ! " assented some of the conspirators. 
 ''The dawn is upon us, and if the pilgrims drift away, 
 our hope is gone ! " 
 
 But most of the crowd, troopers and conspirators alike, 
 felt vaguely that the dawn had indeed come, that the 
 midsummer night's dream of madness was over ; that 
 those who were wise would try, while they had the 
 chance, to escape from its consequences. 
 
 And that ijch a chance existed, even now, was 
 patent. The very madness of the night, its lack of 
 reasonable explanation, were in their favour. And its 
 darkness, the outer darkness of the storm, which had 
 sprung up in a minute, must have hidden much. Who, 
 for instance, was to say — except those impenitent ones 
 whose evidence, if given at all, must be doubted as the 
 evidence of condemned men seeking to drag others down 
 to their fate — whether such and such a one had been a 
 rebel at first } Provided, always, that there was no 
 doubt about his staunchness at the last ; that is, now 
 that the dawn had come — the dawn which showed 
 doubt, almost a surprise, in so many faces. 
 
 What had come to them } Why were they there.? 
 
 "■ KucJich saiya pur gya! '' (some shadow fell on me) 
 muttered one man below his breath, as he sheathed hi.i 
 sword. 
 
 And another, with an oath, said boldly, "This one 
 is for the winning side," then gave the cry, " To the 
 
314 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 (I 
 
 . t' 
 
 ( 
 
 rescue, brothers, to the rescue ! Cut down the muti- 
 neers " — so, promptly, began operations on the nearest 
 defenceless prisoner. 
 
 Thus, almost before those who had galloped in hot 
 haste after Roshan's lead were out of sight, the pris- 
 oners, even the resisting warders, had been driven into 
 the portico, and penned like a flock of sheep between 
 the troopers outside and the pioneers within. 
 
 ** The Lord is King," said the \d,x\Q.^-duffadar, piously, 
 to a neighbour, — he had started back from Roshan's 
 blow with a scowl, and watched his retreat resentfully, — 
 " the Handle-end of His Sword is safest ! Lo ! Have 
 at them, brothers!" — he added aloud — "have at the 
 evil-born ones who would have killed the mcnis and the 
 baba-loguc as such scum did in the Great Breathing, 
 making the faces of the soldiery black for all time ! 
 Show them our mettle. Forward! *Gord — save — the 
 — Xa-veen!'" 
 
 "Cord — save — the — Ka-veen ! " 
 
 The cry grew to a shout, and Dr. Dillon, who, with 
 a great incredulity lessening the values of all he saw 
 and heard, had promptly swung himself down into the 
 courtyard, looked through a crevice in the barricade — 
 which was fast taking form under the willing hands of 
 the pioneers — to see what the noise meant. 
 
 " It is all over," he said slowly, his face pathetic in 
 its bewilderment; "the troopers are siding with us!" 
 
 He stood for a moment as if unable to grasp the reality, 
 and his keen, inquisitive eyes seemed to search almost 
 reproachfully for some cause, some hint of reason, in his 
 surroundings. In the splintered door, in every cranny 
 and foothold of the broken stair, and so, past the para- 
 pet, they continued their question to the lightening sky, 
 against which, faint and far, those distant peaks where 
 lay the " Cradle of the Gods " had begun to show dimly. 
 
 " All for nothing ! " he muttered to himself almost 
 petulantly. " Poor Dering ! " So, swiftly he passed 
 down the alley, — swiftly, but hopelessly ; for he knew 
 what those iron shackles meant on a man's bare head. 
 
 Mft.t • I 
 
/; ADD TO DFJ. MAR I TO 
 
 3TS 
 
 He drew the body to one side with tender care, then 
 knocked at the closed door and called to the man within. 
 '* Smith, open the door ! You'd better come out — I 
 think it's all over now ; be quick, please." 
 
 There was a pause, then a fumbling at the bolts and 
 bars. So, in that grey, cold light, a figure stood at the 
 open door, tall, gaunt, with a hunted look in its eyes, 
 almost a terror, as they looked down — down to the 
 threshold — down for what they knew should be there. 
 
 " Bering .-* " asked Eugene Smith, rather hoarsely; 
 then, seeing what lay to one side, covered his eyes 
 from the sight with a cry like a woman's, and trembled 
 all over. That strain of patient, idle ir.aciion nad been 
 awful. 
 
 " Oh, God damn them ! " burst out the doctor, fiercely. 
 " And all for nothing — for nothing. At least I think so. 
 Come on. Smith, and make sure." 
 
 For nothing ! For nothing ! 
 
 The words were echoing in Roshan's brain also, as 
 with loose rein, recklessly, he galloped over the frail 
 bridge of boats, making it quiver and thunder beneath 
 his horse's hoofs, and send curved waves of light and 
 shadow over the clear, steely surface of the water, seen 
 like a polished shield in the dawn. The air was clear 
 also ; the distant hills steel grey as the water, the sky 
 steel grey as the hills. And there was the bright keen- 
 ness as of a glittering sword in the chill breeze that 
 swept from west to east. But Roshan did not feel 
 it ; he was absorbed in himself, in the useless battle 
 of his life. 
 
 For nothing ! For nothing ! 
 
 He did not even hear the soft yet sonorous roar, be- 
 ginning like the rush of a big breaker on a beach, end- 
 ing with a wild, musical note, like the wail of new-weaned 
 lambs and their mothers on a lone hillside, which sud- 
 denly echoed out over the water, making those who 
 galloped behind look at each other and whisper joy- 
 fully : - 
 
 " 'Tis all right, Khan-sahib^'' said one, urging his 
 
3i6 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 > ,i 
 
 m^i 
 
 %} 
 
 horse alongside ; "the pilgrims are waiting still — hear 
 you not their cry ? They grow impatient ! " 
 
 Roshan looked at him with lack-lustre eyes. What 
 were the pilgrims to him, or their impatience ? What 
 was salvation, immortality, to one whose only desire 
 was death — death and forgetfulncss ? He dug his spurs 
 into his horse, savagely glad to give pain, and rode on. 
 
 ''Hard! Hart! Hdrt ! Hard!'' 
 
 The roar was articulate now, and those behind looked 
 doubtfully at each other. 
 
 "If it shojld be the miracle.'*" suggested one con- 
 spirator ; but another shook his head, " How can that 
 be } None know the trick save those two, Gu-gu and 
 Am-ma, and they are safe." 
 
 " Unless it be a miracle," put in a third, almost timidly. 
 " God's club makes no noise, and the night has been full 
 of marvels." 
 
 So an uneasy silence fell upon the rest. 
 
 ''Hdrd! Hart! Hdrt! Hdrd!'' 
 
 There was no mistaking the cry now. It rose exult- 
 ant, yet with that wailing note in it still, ^^ hich lingers 
 always in humanity's claim to have found ii.s lost Para- 
 dise, its lost purity. 
 
 Yet there was no trace of doubt in the almost frantic 
 joy on every face in the dense multitude which stopped 
 the little cavalcade, as it entered the square around the 
 Pool of Immortality ; stopped it hopelessly, as if the 
 moving, breathing, living mass had been a dead wall. 
 
 ''Hard! Hdrt! Hdrt! Hdrd ! " 
 
 It was almost a yell. The patience was gone utterly, 
 and far as the eye could reach, in all the wide square, 
 in every street and alley converging to it, there was 
 the restless ineffectual movement of the sea, when, on 
 a summer's day, it beats itself calmly yet persistently — 
 rising and falling — upon a sheer cliff, against the impos- 
 sible. There was no one to check the crowd now, to 
 prevent it from finding Death and Immortality at the 
 same time. What matter } What wore a few hundreds 
 of crushed bodies, when the soul found what it sought } 
 
V AD mo DEL MARTTO 
 
 317 
 
 still — hear 
 
 :;hind looked 
 
 The riders behind Roshan threw up their hands at 
 the sight. No hope here for the littlenesses of life ; 
 for principalities and powers, even for political liberty. 
 
 This was the bed-rock ; this, in its unalterable aspira- 
 tion — not for something better, but for the best — ■ 
 neither culture nor conspiracy could touch ; this was 
 as much beyond the control of kith and kin as of 
 strangers and aliens. 
 
 "Come, Khdn-saJnb /" they called to the figure with 
 the lack-lustre eyes which sat its horse like a statue, 
 staring at itself, at its world, conscious only of the hid- 
 eous discords which were, perforce, the music of its 
 sphere. " Come ! Nawab-jce ! There is still a chance 
 with the * TeacJicr of Religion.' The jogi will have 
 held his folk, for sure. They will be ready for blood, 
 since Mai Kali" — the speaker spat his Mahomedan 
 contempt for the idolatry ere he went on — " lets none 
 go. She's a true woman for that ! " 
 
 So, by back alleys and crooked ways, Roshan — why 
 he did not know, since he meant nothing by it — led the 
 cavalcade past the palace, through the archway into the 
 courtyard with its union-jack of raised paths. 
 
 And found it empty. 
 
 Empty of all save the jogi, Gorakh-ndth, who was 
 busy, resignedly, in rethreading his chaplet of skulls, ere 
 starting to seek safety over the British border in some 
 far recess of the holy hills, whence, when this affair had 
 blown over, he could swoop down with added sanctity 
 on some other religious fair. 
 
 " He and his God stole them from me not the saying 
 of a rosary past," he said cheerfully, after he had ex- 
 plained the position. " They went by yonder door to 
 the old road. So what matter ! They are in it. They 
 will come back to Her by and by. It is so always. Men 
 follow other leads, other loves. But they do not find 
 what they seek ; so they come back to Her, to the many 
 named Woman. Jai ! Kali Ma ! " 
 
 Those behind Roshan looked at each other. 
 
 "It is the end," they said briefly. "Come, risaldar- 
 
3i8 
 
 TirE HOSTS OF Tf/R LORD 
 
 
 ^■1 
 
 
 (I 
 
 li'ii" 
 
 jcc — " the change of title was significant — "we shall 
 have to ride far and fast if we are to live." 
 
 Once more, every atom of the man, soul and body, 
 seemed to strike out furiously at the voice, at the truth 
 and the untruth in it ; at the assertion of failure, the link- 
 ing of his need with theirs. 
 
 ** Ride for your lives if you want them," he cried 
 fiercely ; " I seek death." 
 
 They left him, after unavailing protests, and rode hel- 
 ter-skelter on to the Fort, warning their comrades that 
 the game was up, so, on towards safety. And the jogi, 
 naked but not ashamed, still swinging his chaplet of 
 skulls, followed them leisurely ; for he knew himself safe 
 in the superstition and the devotion of every woman in 
 India. Since he. Her servant, could not fail of shelter in 
 every Hindoo homestead, far or near, in which a woman's 
 hand closed on a man's, holding him tight for herself 
 alme, as the Great Mother holds all men. 
 
 Roshan, thus left alone, rode his horse on slowly to 
 the central plinth, dismounted, and, hitching the bridle 
 over the muzzle of the " Teacher of Religion^' stood star- 
 ing out dully at what lay before him ; so quiet, so com- 
 monplace ! 
 
 Nothing changed from the day, barely a month ago, 
 when he had stood beside the old gun with Vincent Ber- 
 ing and Lance Carlyon, contemptuous of the ignorance 
 of others, satisfied with himself. 
 
 And now } — what had come to him } 
 
 The madness, which his wild gallop from the gaol had 
 calmed somewhat, returned in a fierce rush, and .'ith it 
 that one desire for revenge ; for something by which to 
 show the contempt, which was not now merely for the 
 ignorant ; but for those others, self-righteous, tyrannical, 
 who had dared to touch him — dared to make him what 
 he was — a prey both to ignorance and wisdom, savagery 
 and culture — a laughing-stock even to himself! 
 
 And who had begun the fooling } Who had taught 
 him as a boy ? 
 
 ridar Nar^yan ! Who else } Who else had begun 
 
Z' ADDTO DF.r. MARITO 
 
 3^0 
 
 1," he cried 
 
 liet, so com- 
 
 the game giving some things, withholding others ? And 
 who else was within reach ? Who else could be followed 
 up and forced to fair fight ? Forced to admit that the 
 pupil was ahead now of the master. 
 
 He laughed a laugh of absolute exultation ; and a 
 wave of purely childish satisfaction swept through the 
 mind in which there were still so many depths of child- 
 ish ignorance and misconception ; unavoidable depths in 
 the culture of a bare score of years. Leaving his horse 
 tethered to the old gun, he ran hastily across to the pal- 
 ace, so, finding the door open, the whole place quiet, 
 went on down the arched passage. It was still dark 
 there, but a glimmer of light showed the entrance to the 
 chapel, and to the armoury beside it, which was his 
 goal. 
 
 He had no other thought except for that armoury, un- 
 til, with the tall tapers burning at the head and feet, he 
 saw the dead body of the woman who had deceived him 
 lying on the Altar steps. Then the pitifullest clashing 
 of satisfaction and despair, of desire and disgust, came 
 to him that ever rent a man in twain. For a moment 
 he fought for bare reason between them, then with a 
 savage cry, he flung himself beside the dead girl, caught 
 her to him, covered her with frantic, cruel kisses, and, 
 almost flinging her from him again, ran on into the ar- 
 moury, the red of her dress, her bosom, in his eyes — 
 the red of blood ! 
 
 The armoury ! Where he had had his first lesson in the 
 foils ! There they were, harmless in their buttons, 
 crossed on the wall, and above them something more 
 murderous ; the dangerous delicate rapiers to which 
 those others were but the prelude. No ! one was gone ! 
 One Father Ninian had used against \\\q. jogi ! One 
 he must have with him. So much the better ! 
 
 He tore down its fellow, and passing the dead girl 
 without a look, dashed out into the courtyard again, his 
 last trace of sanity gone. 
 
 The next instant his horse's feet were echoing madly 
 along the pilgrims' road. His enemy must have a 
 
 mmmm 
 
320 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 nM 1 
 
 put 
 
 quarter of an hour's lead, but that was nothing ; he could 
 overtake him, anyhow, at the first station in the pilgrim- 
 age, — a temple under a vast banyan tree at the foot of 
 the first rise, where the pious must pause to make 
 offerings. 
 
 The road was almost empty at first ; for the news that 
 the miracle had only been deferred had spread instantly 
 through the unrestful town, so to a space beyond it, 
 making those who heard the tale turn back to see for 
 themselves. But after a few minutes' wild gallop, he 
 came up with those who had been beyond recall, who 
 had gone on content with that strange lead of a strange 
 God ; of a saint, a sinner. Yet, after a time, forgetful 
 of that leadership utterly. For they needed it no more. 
 The danger of novelty had passed with their first step 
 along the beaten track which their fathers had followed. 
 Father Ninian, wise with the wisdom of long years, of 
 secret sympathy, had known this ; had counted on it in 
 his forlorn hope of leading them into familiar bondage. 
 He had told himself that he need only go as far as that 
 first station ; tiiat then, during the pause for offerings, 
 he might return, as it were, to realities, to something 
 more consistent with the ninetc^^nth century ! But to 
 him, also, as he led the way, chanting his offices for the 
 day, had come a strange peace, a strange desire to 
 go on to the end of the pilgrimage ; a strange desire 
 to leave those realities behind him in a world from 
 which he was taking nothing, not even his love. 
 
 Surely it was time. Surely he was old enough to claim 
 rest. No ! not rest. It was something more than that. 
 Surely, now that he had left every atom of earth behind 
 him lying with a dead woman on the Altar steps, he also 
 was free to find the "Cradle of the Gods " ! 
 
 ^^ My soul jlcctJi unto the Lord! before the morning 
 wateh I say, before the morning watch,'" he chanted; he 
 had gone on blindly from psalm to psalm intent on the 
 desire to lead those voices behind. 
 
 '' Have a care, baba-jee ! thou and thy God ! " said a 
 half-tender, half jesting one as he stumbled among the 
 
// ADD 10 DEL MARITO 
 
 321 
 
 stones, and a dark hand stretched itself out to steady 
 the old priest, and a dark face turned to nod approval 
 at other saffron robes ; since here was a true pilgrim, a 
 true madman, forgetful of this world, to judge by the face 
 lifted towards those distant hills. 
 
 Yet the desire in him to reach them seemed to the 
 wise old heart something that must be set aside. He 
 must return. Yes ! he must return. To do what } 
 What could an old man do who had left life, a useless 
 life, behind him.^ He crushed down that thought also, 
 and stumbled on. 
 
 ^^ Man is like a thijig of no ugh t, his time passeth away 
 like a sJiadoiv ! " 
 
 His voice spent itself tremulously on that one cer- 
 tainty, and those behind him joined their testimony to 
 his all unwittingly, as they called on Hard or Hdri ; on 
 the Creator, the Destroyer, as One and Indivisible. 
 
 And in the rear again, Roshan in his search for Death, 
 for annihilation, bore witness also, as he came, cursing 
 those who stood in his way, his horse slithering among 
 the stones in its effort to obey whip and spur, and send- 
 ing a dry clangour of hoof-beats through the little stony 
 valley to startle the sleepy snakes coiled on the distant 
 rocks, and drive them back to their crannies with a 
 hi. . 
 
 So, every instant, the distance lessened between the 
 old man and the young one, both weary of life. It was 
 broad daylight now, though the sun was still low on the 
 horizon. The mystery of dawn had left the world, the 
 very pilgrims, between their recurring cries, were chat- 
 tering, laughing, over the every-day details of life which 
 would make to-day as trivial as yesterday, to-morrow as 
 trivial as to-day. 
 
 There had been a " Breathing " in the night, they told 
 each other. Some shadow had fallen. Some God or 
 Devil had had power. But the shackles of custom, of 
 familiarity, were back again, the despotism of detail. 
 
 Only in those two strangely different minds in the 
 van, in the rear, the mystery still clouded the reality. 
 
 Y 
 
f^.-^. 
 
 ; i 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 II 'i 
 
 
 t:m 
 
 V 
 
 322 
 
 77/ f, nOS7'S OF THE LORD 
 
 And the distance between tliem lessened as Roshan 
 drove his way through the saffron robes recklessly. 
 
 Yet, fast as he went, when he reached the end of the 
 dry watercourse up which the last part of the rough 
 track had wound, and stood in the hollow, backed by 
 a further rise of the hill, where the quaint, dumpy, 
 black temple hid itself under the huge blotch of the 
 banyan tree — the only green thing visible, far or near 
 — the figure he sought was not to be seen among the 
 crowd. 
 
 Akbar Khan, indeed, he saw, utilizing one of the 
 tall tapers as a pipe-light before casting himself on the 
 ground to suck contentedly at the screwed banyaii leaf 
 full of tobacco which he had gathered by claiming a 
 pinch in return for the loan of that same light to 
 others. But with a curious shame Roshan avoided 
 him, and passed on in his search among the jostling 
 crowd, the continuous babel of trivial talk ; for this was 
 resting-time, when men and women could be men and 
 women, and forget that they were on a pilgrimage ; 
 when they could even dream themselves back in the 
 village under the familiar shelter of some village tree, 
 asking no more than the familiar round of life. 
 
 But above the babel came every now and again the 
 insistent clang of a bell, telling that some new peti- 
 tioner was seeking a favour of the Gods, and making 
 a golden oriole, which sat in the green leafage, flit to 
 another bower with a sudden fluting note, full, joyful, 
 mellow. 
 
 ''What dost seek, Mnsulmdnf' cavilled a saint, 
 drawing back from Roshan's shadow, as he gabbled 
 invocations, all he knew, on a rosary, ere solacing 
 himself with the pipe which his disciple had prepared. 
 "If 'tis the madman and his God — he hath gone 
 yonder." 
 
 He pointed to a side track, which was a short cut to 
 the road above. 
 
 Roshan flung himself from his horse without a word, 
 and followed. 
 
 
/.' ADD 10 DEI. MARITO 
 
 323 
 
 bort cut to 
 
 The distance lessened at every step now, for the old 
 priest's breath failed him at the steepness of the rise. 
 
 Still, it would not delay him long, he told himself, to 
 take that one look at the soft, white cloud which gen- 
 erally hid the goal of pilgrimage, before he turned back 
 over the hill, as best he could, to find what task 
 remained for him in the world. 
 
 He might have that one look, surely ! 
 
 So, reaching the summit of this first bulwark of the 
 unattainable, he sat down, breathlessly, beside an 
 upright black stone which showed strangely distinct 
 amid the redness of the surrounding rock ; a plain 
 black stone, not three feet high, chipped rudely to a 
 blunt point. Father Ninian did not need the scattering 
 of dead marigolds and dry basil leaves about its base 
 to tell him that it was a fragment of an older faith than 
 that of the temple below ; a faith sterner, purer, founded 
 on a clearer perception of what humanity needed in that 
 search for the lost Paradise ; on a closer memory of the 
 cause which lost it. 
 
 He laid one hand on the stone almost caressingly, as, 
 holding the pyx in the other, he sat down facing the 
 distant peaks. But there was no cloud upon them. 
 The day had dawned clear and still, and as he sat looking 
 wistfully over the valleys on valleys, the hills on hills, 
 which lay bathed in light between him and the " Cradle 
 of the Gods," a sunbeam — still slanting from the curved 
 edge of the eastern plains — caught the jewelled star of 
 what he held, and stayed there. 
 
 It was peaceful beyond words. The hurry, the strain, 
 not only of that long eventful night, but of the whole long 
 eventful life, seemed over. All things seemed behind 
 him. The passion, the pride, the courage, the manhood 
 — all things that had made Ninian Bruce what Ninian 
 Bruce had been — where were they .-* 
 
 Only wisdom, only a tender knowledge, seemed to 
 remain. 
 
 The clank of steel upon stone roused him, the clank 
 of Roshan's spurs upon the rocks ; and Father Ninian 
 
rfFiiii 
 
 :)! 
 
 if-'!-::* 
 
 324 
 
 '/7/E /fOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 turned to see him, a yard or two on the path below, 
 outlined clearly against the distant view of F.shwara, 
 against the world in which Ninian Bruce had lived and 
 loved — the Ninian Bruce whom he had left behind. 
 
 Behind! 
 
 No ! It was Ninian Bruce and none other who was 
 on his feet in a second, a flush on his face — the face that 
 was like the nether mill-stone in its stern passion, and 
 pride, and power. For, in a second, the old man's soul 
 was back in a world where a dead woman belonging to 
 him lay waiting for revenge. His hand was on his 
 hidden rapier, as he flung his first word of defiance at 
 the man who had killed her. 
 
 "Murderer!" 
 
 " Your pupil at that, even ! " gasped Roshan, " you 
 began it! — your pupil whom you taught — curse 
 you — " 
 
 The words failed him — he paused inarticulate — but 
 the keen eyes and ears opposite him took in his meaning 
 with the swift comprehension which had been Pidar 
 Narayan's always. A sort of contemptuous pity fought 
 with the passion of Ninian Bruce's face. 
 
 " My pupil, certainly," he assented. " Have you come 
 to ask me for a final lesson } " 
 
 Roshan glared at him. " You understand — you 
 always did — that is the worst. Yes ! I have come " — 
 here he laughed wildly — " for what you taught me — 
 fair play and no favour — and I mean to have it." In 
 his fierce excitement he pressed closer, flourishing his 
 rapier. 
 
 " Pardon me," came a cold, courteous voice ; " I did 
 not teach you that method of assassination, surely .'* I 
 thought you desired fair play. If so, you might allow 
 me to meet you on equal terms." 
 
 Roshan drew back with a flush from the figure which 
 had stood its ground, which looked at him with bitter 
 disdain. He scarcely seemed to recognize it. No 
 wonder ! For this was Ninian Bruce himself. Ninian 
 Bruce as he might have spoken to an over-hasty antago- 
 
/• ADDIO DET MARITO 
 
 325 
 
 nist in the clays when he was the most reckless swords- 
 man in Rome, when the world held him body and soul. 
 
 The years, his very priesthood, had slipped from him. 
 
 '• I beg your pardon, sir ! " muttered Roshan, standing 
 aside. There was a savage satisfaction in his heart. 
 This man was not old, the odds were equal ; there was 
 enough fire and passion here to please any opponent. 
 
 So, after a pause to lay aside the pyx — it found a 
 strange resting-place on the blunt summit of that up- 
 right black stone — a slim, still elegant figure, divested 
 of its priestly robings, took its stand, its back to the 
 hills, its face to the world. 
 
 Still upright, still active, with its black soutane caught 
 up and tucked into the sash to give free play to its limbs. 
 
 " Now, sir," came the courteous voice, " I am ready." 
 
 Something in the proud grace of bearing, the reckless 
 contempt, made Roshan follow suit. 
 
 "The sun will be in your eyes," he said, "let us fight 
 lengthwise to the ridge." 
 
 " We will — by and by ! " came that icy voice, as 
 the speaker, without moving, stood on guard. " We can 
 omit the salute. If you are ready, I am." 
 
 For an instant Roshan hesitated, realizing what the 
 life that he meant to take had been, what the man him- 
 self whom he meant to kill had been and was. The man 
 whose figure stood out like a black shadow against the 
 distant blue of the hills ; and as he realized the fine fibre 
 of his enemy, a sense of powerlessness to touch, to harm 
 him, kept Roshan motionless. 
 
 "Shall I count five, and give you a start .'^" The 
 question came with a shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 The taunt told. Roshan pulled himself together, and 
 stood on guard also. But the sense of powerlessness 
 was intolerable ; he lowered his rapier for a word more 
 — a word to raise his own self-esteem. 
 
 "I warn you," he said haughtily, "that the sun is in 
 your eyes. That I have learnt more than you ever 
 taught me — that this is to the death." 
 
 " It could scarcely be anything else, could it } " came 
 
326 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 H;' 
 
 ft !-^ r 
 
 the instant reply, in a voice that vibrated harshly, like a 
 harpstring struck to its fullest, ** with a dead woman be- 
 tween us ! Engage, you devil, or I will kill you as you 
 stand!" 
 
 Roshan gave a short, sharp cry, like a wild beast. 
 The next instant the curious hiss of two meeting blades - 
 sliding along each other was the only sound. It is a 
 strange sound, which, to the listeners, the onlookers, 
 seems to say " hush " to the whole world. 
 
 "//us/i — hush— s/i — s/i:* 
 
 Then, short and sharp as that cry of Roshan's, came 
 another sound ; the beaten^ baffled clash when steel 
 meets steel instead of flesh. 
 
 Roshan, with an '-nvard curse, gripped his rapier 
 closer. He had almost been disarmed, — disarmed in 
 that first encounter. Strange that he should have for- 
 gotten his foe, — forgotten the deadly insistence of the 
 master's blade, slack as a snake in curves, firm as a vice 
 in grip. Then that almost invisible turn of the wrist 
 which had so nearly done for him. He haa forgotten 
 these, in years of meaner adversaries. He remembered 
 them now, and would not forget again. And he had 
 such things ; ay! and more, in reserve for himself. 
 
 So had his master; i. reserve for both of them, if 
 needful. And the knowledge that it ivonld be needful 
 came to Ninian Bruce at the first touch of his adver- 
 sary's sword ; for there was that in it which told the old 
 hand that the young one was a master's also. 
 
 *' My pupil has improved," he said quietly, as, aban- 
 doning the attack, he parried Roshan's furious onslaught 
 with scarcely a motion of the hand, held level to his heart. 
 
 That he couk' ('o. But the other must surely come 
 in the end, since he was old, and Roshan young. If in 
 the end, therefore, why not now } The sooner the better. 
 
 A minute after the sun was no longer in Pidar Nara- 
 yan's eyes. As he had said, they were fighting length- 
 wise to the ridge ; and he drew back, choosing his 
 ground, until under liis fec^t he felt the dead marigolds, 
 the withered basil leaves that lay about the upright 
 
i: ADDIO DEI. MAR [TO 
 
 327 
 
 stone, — that strange pedestal on which the star-shaped 
 pyx stood as on an altar, glittering in the sun-rays. 
 
 He seemed to see it, to feel it, standing there iDctween 
 the world below and those faint, far peaks. And the 
 eyes whicli had seen so much felt they need sec no more. 
 
 ^^ Sta alerta^ Signer !'' he cried jibingly, flinging him- 
 self savagely forward. " And may the Lord have mercy 
 on your soul," he added in a lower tone ; as, in an attack 
 which held in it all the wildness, the fire, the passion of 
 his youth, he drove Roshan back a step, — one step 
 down the faint slope on which he had counted. 
 
 A fierce lunge or two, a swift parry, and then, — then 
 an inch beyond safety — given purposely — yielded room 
 for the riposte he sought from that other rapier. 
 
 It came with a quick cry of triumph, as Roshan felt 
 that thin, cold steel slide silently on through a dull, 
 faint resistance. A cry that ended in a gasp, as the 
 hand which held the rapier dropped for a second, then 
 flung itself upwards. 
 
 For Pidar Narayan had given the reprise ; and * Z' Addio 
 del Marito ' had done its work. 
 
 So, for an instant — held upright by the lingering force 
 of the old man's hand — the two stood within a sword's 
 length, their faces glaring at each other, — stern, im- 
 placable, the one in death, the other still in life. 
 
 Then the strength, the life, ebbed ; the balance be- 
 tween it and death wavered, and Ninian Bruce, over- 
 borne by his enemy's dead weight, sank to his knee, 
 then backwards. 
 
 But his hand still gripped the rapier. So Roshan 
 Khan's body, as it fell forward, slithered down the 
 sharp blade, sending a little jet of crimson blood back- 
 wards, till it stopped with a dull thud upon the hilt. 
 
 So he lay, face downwards, beside the old man, whose 
 face looked skyward ; whose head rested among the 
 withered marigolds and the sweet, dead leaves of the 
 basil, which generations and generations of pilgrims had 
 offered to an unknown wisdom on their way to the 
 " Cradle of the Gods." 
 
M 
 
 328 
 
 n/F. HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 V ^ SI' 
 
 
 THE TRUTH 
 
 "And to look at it now," came the Commissioner's 
 rich, round brogue, "you would think butter wouldn't 
 melt in its mouth ! " 
 
 He waved the cigar he was smoking towards Eshwara. 
 It looked sleepier, more sun-saturate than ever, as it lay 
 reflected in the still lagoon between it and the tent in 
 which he was sitting ; a double-poled, Commissioner's 
 tent, which two days before had swooped down like an 
 avenging angel with broad white wings to take posses- 
 sion of the jusc and the unjust in the name of Victoria 
 Kaiser-i-Hind. 
 
 It was pitched on the site of the Viceroy's camp, for 
 the convenience of being close to the gaol where the late 
 disturbers of the public peace had taken up their resi- 
 dence. In fact, the mast from which the royal standard 
 had floated, still reared itself, bare, undraped, from its 
 roundel of roses. But the flowers were withered, dead. 
 Even the palms, their work of welcome over, were wilt- 
 ing fast ; but they still gave a doubtful shade to some 
 groups of manacled men, who, guarded by yellow-legged 
 constables, were placidly awaiting the Commissioner's 
 leisure and pleasure ; both being, at the time, occupied 
 with lunch and Dr. Dillon. So, the wide white wings 
 of the tent being set open and supported with bamboos 
 to let in the breeze, the representative of law and order 
 could be seen — his feet on the table among his law 
 books — drinking an iced whiskey-and-soda. 
 
 Dr. Dillon — he looked careworn chiefly because in 
 his care for others he had, as yet, been able to take no 
 rest — nodded. 
 
 " Yes ; and it doesn't, as a rule. A more peaceable 
 spot never was. You can't account for these sudden 
 idiotic outbreaks. One reason is as good as another. 
 And so old Mother Campbell, with her assertion that it 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 329 
 
 nmissioner s 
 :er wouldn't 
 
 ds Eshwara. 
 ver, as it lay 
 i the tent in 
 nmissioner's 
 iown like an 
 take posses- 
 e of Victoria 
 
 y^'s camp, for 
 here the late 
 ip their resi- 
 >yal standard 
 Dcd, from its 
 thered, dead. 
 IX, were wilt- 
 lade to some 
 mellow-legged 
 mmissioner's 
 me, occupied 
 white wings 
 ^ith bamboos 
 aw and order 
 long his law 
 
 • 
 
 y because in 
 le to take no 
 
 )re peaceable 
 these sudden 
 1 as another. 
 ,ertion that it 
 
 all came because Miss Shepherd would talk about Jean 
 Ziska's drum — " 
 
 The Commissioner smiled. " Yes, the good lady has 
 an endless circle of unfounded beliefs, all dependent on 
 each other for support. It's the most comfortable way 
 of getting through life. An' miracles are like drams — 
 ye can't stop them, once you begin. Besides, on me 
 soul, it was queer — even Carlyon said — " 
 
 "And if it ivevc true," interrupted the doctor, '* we 
 shouldn't be any 'forrader' ! We shouldn't understand. 
 And that's our position now. You can't, in fact. It's 
 better you shouldn't ; in India, at any rate. Just accept 
 them, ignore them, smash them, hush thcm up" — here 
 his face clouded — " and in this case there is a good 
 deal that had better be kept dark — you'll do your best, 
 I hope } " 
 
 The keen whimsical face hardened. "I shall follow 
 the usual official routine, sir," he said cynically ; " for, 
 look you, there never was a row like this in India but 
 there is something in it about a woman, which we've 
 got to hush up. An' that's God's truth. Yes, we pay 
 a heavy toll — " He broke off, took up a pen as if to 
 write, threw it down impatiently, and stared out into 
 the hot, yellow sunshine. 
 
 Dr. Dillon sat twiddling his mushroom hat round and 
 round in his nervous fingers, and staring out into it also. 
 A sense of being face to face with an unpleasant truth 
 was on them both. Suddenly he laughed harshly. 
 
 "We ought to have got accustomed to the fact by 
 this time, anyhow," he said, "for it began early enough 
 in the history of man. Well, I'm off; you won't want 
 me, will you, this afternoon, now those men have turned 
 Qiif^^n's evidence } " 
 
 Don't think so. Let's see." The Commissioner 
 drew a list towards him, and ran his eye over it. " I've 
 condemned three warders and seven prisoners to death 
 for poor Dering's murder ; so I daresay penal servitude 
 will see throu^rh the rest. Then there's jogi Gorakh- 
 
 nath and his 
 
 gosaiu. 
 
 They ought to be hung, but we 
 

 
 330 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 m: . 
 
 t ' 
 
 
 
 
 U! ', i 
 
 
 haven't caught them, and we never shall ; the wild ass 
 that snuffeth up the east wind isn't in it with a Hindoo 
 ascetic in eluding captors ! So the lot out there are 
 really small fry ; for the other ringleaders are either 
 dead or departed — even that amphibious brute, Gu-gu." 
 
 Dr. Dillon looked up cheerfully. " By George ! I'd 
 have givn something to see that water-fight between 
 him and Am-ma ! By the way, what are you going to 
 do for that queer fish .-* But for him, we would never 
 have seen Lance Carlyon's face again." 
 
 The Commissioner's expression was curious. " It's 
 a bit hard to do anything for a man who wants nothing 
 but earth, air, and water, and has got all three ; be- 
 sides — " he drew a paper out of a file, looked at it, 
 then looked at the doctor — "besides it wasn't alto- 
 gether Am-ma ! " He paused, smiled an infinitely kind 
 smile, then went on : "I was a brute, entirely, to talk 
 about a heavy toll just now. We get its worth back, 
 me dear fellow, over and over again. See ! here is 
 Am-ma's affidavit. I took it this morning, and upon 
 me soul, Dillon, I should be obliged if you would tell 
 me whether to hush it up, or inform the party con- 
 cerned." So saying, his brogue took possession of the 
 sun-bright, sun-dry air — 
 
 " I, Am-ma, of the river folk, solemnly affirm that, 
 knowing the Dec-puk-rdg to be in the power of the 
 Ilnj^oors, I several times warned Gu-gu not to follow 
 other masters. But he had learned books, and be- 
 come ignorant. He could not even feel when a current 
 changed its course ; and then he thought he must die, 
 because of the ghost, and that made him wild. So 
 when I refused, and set off, as ordained, for the raft, 
 he took the Brahmin's money and stopped the miracle. 
 Of a surety, the Awarder of Justice is right. This 
 slave knew what was to come. He did not tell of it 
 because, where the Dee-puk-vdg is, there is victory ; so 
 there was no fear. Yet when the Wx^^-sahiba bade me 
 help her, I obeyed, because she has power over devils, 
 and my son, Huzoor^ is still in the first week of life. 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 331 
 
 le wild ass 
 L a Hindoo 
 there are 
 are either 
 ;e, Gu-gu." 
 eorge ! I'd 
 it between 
 n going to 
 Duld never 
 
 »us. 
 
 (( 
 
 It's 
 
 its nothing 
 three ; be- 
 cked at it, 
 'asn't alto- 
 nitely kind 
 sly, to talk 
 rorth back, 
 ; ! here is 
 and upon 
 would tell 
 party con- 
 sion of the 
 
 iffirm that, 
 ver of the 
 : to follow 
 s, and be- 
 n a current 
 I must die, 
 
 wild. So 
 )r the raft, 
 he miracle. 
 
 ht. This 
 it tell of it 
 victory ; so 
 ba bade me 
 Dver devils, 
 eek of life. 
 
 Therefore, for that reason, I guided the raft. But 
 when I saw that the Light-bringers had smitten the 
 darkness of evil-doers, and that the raft would be 
 needed no more, I went on with it to the place ap- 
 pointed by the \\loo(i-waliak-sahib, whence it could 
 float of itself. 
 
 " So I returned to my home and ate my bread. And 
 the day was quiet, as the Hiizoor knows ; only the folk 
 reviled, because I had no fish to sell. 
 
 " But, at night, at the waning of the sunset stars, 
 about the third jackal cry, came the '^i^^-sahiba to 
 my hut." 
 
 Dr. Dillon ceased twiddling his hat, and looked up 
 in sudden interest. 
 
 " To my hut," reiterated the reading voice. *' I 
 deemed it because of devils first; but it was not. It 
 was because of Q-AxXoViO-saliib, who could not be found, 
 — only his clothes and pistol on my craft, stranded on 
 a sand-bank by the mid-channel. 
 
 " ' He has not been killed,' said the W\'s>^-saJiiba. * He 
 would not have fought with his clothes off. Nor did he 
 go to fight. He would not have left the pistol if he 
 had. He has gone swimming, to get quicker and find 
 help. So he is drowned. He is in the river still, and 
 I cannot think of it. Am-ma ! you know every inch 
 of the river. Find him! Find him!' 
 
 "Then I said: 'Yea, Miss-sa/ii'ba ; I will find him 
 when his body rises. No man can find a dead one in 
 the river till then.' But, as I spoke, the son at his 
 mother's breast left sucking, and cried aloud. The 
 Miss-sa/nba said it was but the gripes, but we — my 
 house and I — knew more than that. We knew it was 
 the devils, winning a way l)ecause the Miss was not con- 
 tent. So I said : * I will find him while his beauty is 
 still on him, for you to see again,' — since that is in 
 the heart of all women, O Awarder of Justice. Thus 
 at the dawn — the dawn after the dawn of darkness — ■ 
 I, Am-ma, set out with my nets, seeing that fish, any- 
 how, could be found, and the market would be dear. 
 
332 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 
 because none had come to the bazaar during the com- 
 motion. So, remembering where my craft had stranded, 
 I went first to mid-channe! ; thus, working up, came to 
 where it had stranded once before. Then, seeing foot- 
 marks, I followed them, till in an island, eating his bread, 
 I found the evil-begotten Gu-gu. 
 
 " He had a knife in his bead belt, at the sight whereof 
 I gave glory to gods and devils alike, for I knew the 
 handle of it. It was CMloxiQ-sahib's shikar knife, and 
 I had been his shikari many a time. 
 
 " So I said, * Where gottest thou C^ixXonQ-sahib' s knife, 
 Gu-gu } ' thinking to startle him. And it did. He said 
 no word, but came at me with it. 
 
 " So we fought. His right hand an^^ mine on the knife, 
 and our left arms round each other's throat, choking us ; 
 and our legs wrestling. Till the wate * grew too deep. 
 Then we swam with them. But he said nothing, nor 
 did I. There was no need. We understood, as dogs do, 
 that it was foe and foe. So it came to the deep stream ; 
 his right hand and mine, with the knife between them, 
 and our teeth fixed in each other's shoulders, — till I 
 bethought me of his ear. 
 
 " Then he yelled, and let go ; but I was after him as he 
 dived. It was a long race. Wherefore not ? since we 
 are the best swimmers in the river. But I felt the cleave 
 of the water from his foot at last, and spent myself in 
 one stroke. So I laid hold of his leg and ran my hand 
 up till I found his back. Then I used Cavlone-sahid's 
 knife on him, and he sank ; and I sank too, with the 
 blow. 
 
 " And when I came up, leaving him there, I found how 
 long the race had been, for my right hand struck the city 
 wall. Then it came to me what the Miss-sahida had 
 said, of Carlone-sahib wishing to go quick ; and I be- 
 thought me of the secret passages, and the knife, and 
 Gu-gu's fear. And I said to myself someone must 
 have restoretl the miracle. Not Gu-gu ; else why was 
 ho hiding"; ? What if it be Carlone-.w/^/7; / But most of 
 all I thought of my little son, and the devils longing for 
 
 
 V 
 
 a 
 c 
 ii 
 
 L'it 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 333 
 
 ig the com- 
 ,d stranded, 
 ip, came to 
 seeing foot- 
 g his bread, 
 
 ght whereof 
 I knew the 
 V knife, and 
 
 ahWs knife, 
 d. He said 
 
 3n the knife, 
 choking us ; 
 ;w too deep, 
 nothing, nor 
 , as dogs do, 
 leep stream ; 
 ween them, 
 ers,-till I 
 
 er him as he 
 )t ? since we 
 It the cleave 
 It myself in 
 an my hand 
 x\<dx\^-saJiib' s 
 00, with the 
 
 I found how 
 ruck the city 
 s-sahiha had 
 and I be- 
 knife, and 
 meone must 
 Ise why was 
 l^ut most of 
 s longing for 
 
 him, and for a woman longing for the sight of a man's 
 beauty, and I knew I must go and see if it lay there. 
 So I dived, and found him, as the Awarder of Justice 
 knows, sitting high up, with the water about his feet, 
 waiting for death, and brought him back as I promised. 
 And Gu-gu is dead, for his body was drifting by the 
 tunnel with Q^xXonc-sahih' s knife in the back as we 
 came out. So the Miss is pleased, and the devils do not 
 come near my son." 
 
 The brogue ceased, and there was a pause. *' Well ! 
 what do ye say, Dillon }'' asked the Commissioner, fret- 
 fully. 
 
 George Dillon rose and put on his hat deliberately. 
 "Nothing. Except that 1 must really be off. I've to 
 see Smith first, and Carlyon — that sprained ankle of 
 his, which he got trying to climb up beyond the rise 
 of the water, will be the deuce and all if he uses it too 
 soon. And then, if I can, I want to get round and say 
 good-by to — to the W\?>s-sa/nba. She off to Herrn- 
 hut again this evening. In fact, Campbell didn't half 
 like her waiting for the funeral, he is in such a blessed 
 hurry to get to his new field, as he calls it ; thinks of 
 nothing else. They are to be married on Monday, I 
 believe." 
 
 The Commissioner laid aside Am-ma's affidavit with 
 a soft "damn," and Dr. Dillon paused on his way out at 
 the sound. 
 
 "Quite so, — I entirely agree with you," he said sym- 
 pathetically ; " but, unfortunately, there is only one per- 
 son who has a right to tell that story, sir — and she 
 won't!" 
 
 " Why not ? " interrupted the Commissioner, militantly 
 — "why the blazes shouldn't a woman tell the trui-h .-^ " 
 
 " Because women don't know it," broke in the doctor, 
 "or men either, for that matter. Because we men and 
 women have got ourselves on such false lines, into such 
 an absolutely false position towards each other, that the 
 only course consistent with propriety and Ics convenances 
 is to — to hush the thing up ! So hush-a-bye baby, sir, 
 

 "I 
 
 I ■■ 
 
 ;ii 
 
 *m;|| 
 
 l| 
 
 334 
 
 r//i^ //OS IS O/' T//E LORD 
 
 to your heart's content. So long as the mother can tell 
 her blessed infant that she is a lady, what does the real 
 fact matter? " 
 
 He spoke with a concentrated bitterness, an almost 
 fierce resentment, and the Commissioner nodded, fin- 
 ished his vvhiskey-and-soda at a gulp, and returned to 
 work, tossing his papers about recklessly. 
 
 "It's a quare world, certainly," he murmured, with 
 a lack of orig'nality which sat ill on him. Then, catch- 
 ing sight of something in a file, his humorous, kindly 
 self returned. " Listen to this now, for quareness," he 
 laughed, beginning to read : — 
 
 "'The petition of Mussumat Mumtaza Mahal' — 
 that's Roshan Khan's grandmother, you know — 
 * sister,' etc., etc., * humbly sheweth that she has en- 
 dured grievous wrong and hurt, by loss of her grand- 
 son in the late deplorable mutiny (of which she was 
 utterly incognizant, being helpless, veiled, old woman 
 perpetually confined in house). Therefore prayeth that 
 whereas one Mussumat Ashraf-un-nissa, her neighbour, 
 is in receipt of pension rupees twenty-five per vicnsem 
 for similar bereavement of male protector and head of 
 family lost in '57 mutiny, therefore her pension of 
 rupees twenty per mensein, only, for exile of husband 
 to Calcutta, be commuted to similar sum of twenty- 
 five, seeing that your poor petitioner is in floods of 
 tears and wholly heartbroken through this most non- 
 regulation, premature death of promising young scion 
 of her noble house, on whom, as on blessed Victoria, 
 Queen, her hopes were fixed. Said petitioner being able 
 to prove alibi, absolute incomplicity, and continuous 
 remaining at home during late devilish disturbances.' " 
 
 " Poor old soul ! " laughed tL. ^octor, " give it to her 
 if you can, sir. And as for rema, ling at home, every- 
 body except the actual conspirators did that. Even 
 Dya-Ram, the disaffected — though he has preached 
 armed resistance to tyranny in his paper for years. He 
 barricaded himself in with his printing-press. Fact ; 
 jammed his fingers in so doing, and came to me in a 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 n -y t 
 
 -r can tell 
 ;s the real 
 
 an almost 
 )dded, fin- 
 -turned to 
 
 ured, with 
 hen, catch- 
 Dus, kindly 
 reness," he 
 
 Mahal ' — 
 \ know — 
 he has en- 
 her grand- 
 ch she was 
 old woman 
 )rayeth that 
 neighbour, 
 i)cr mensem 
 ,nd head of 
 pension of 
 of husband 
 of twenty- 
 n floods of 
 J most non- 
 ^oung scion 
 ed Victoria, 
 IX being able 
 
 continuous 
 urbances.' " 
 ive it to her 
 ■ome, every- 
 that. Even 
 as preached 
 
 years. He 
 ress. Fact ; 
 
 to me in a 
 
 blind funk for a professional certificate that the wound 
 could not have been caused by any lethal weapon. As 
 if anyone could ever have suspected him of taking part 
 in raising a row, or even in settling one ! His sort arc 
 simply negligible quantities." 
 
 " But Ramanund seems to have attempted a lead," 
 put in the Commissioner, judicially. 
 
 " Exactly. Attempted, and failed. His sort are 
 negligible quantities also, sir, I'm sorry to say, and 
 will remain so until they learn, amongst other know- 
 ledge, to believe in something besides them.selves — " 
 here the hard eyes softened, the hard voice paused. 
 " That is another thing I should like to have seen — 
 dear old Pidar Narayan-" 
 
 The hard voice found even softness too loud ; and in 
 the silence which fell between the two men, only the 
 Commissioner's pen could be heard. 
 
 " You'll look in at the palace, perhaps, and see all is 
 right," came the brogue, after a bit, "and give my love 
 to old Smith. I'm not sure but that I'd rather have 
 seen him behind the door than anything else, for it 
 must have been the hardest job — " 
 
 " Considering the circumstances, yes ! " put in the 
 doctor ; so, with the pith hat turning him into an ani- 
 mated mushroom, he passed out into the blaze of dry 
 yellow sunshine, on that dry yellow sand. 
 
 The sky above was molten with light and heat, the 
 gaol positively shimmered in the glare. Not a sound, not 
 a sight, told of that midsummer night's dream of wild, 
 useless revolt, save when one of the shackled prisoners 
 awaiting trial sought a better bit of shade under the 
 wilted palms, which, not a week before, had welcomed 
 the Hosts of the Y^onA-saJiib on their way to the hills. 
 
 The whole thing seemed incredible ; yet, as he crossed 
 the road to enter the Smiths' compound, the footsteps 
 of those other Hosts who had passed on to the hills 
 also remained to dimple the dry yellow sand. 
 
 The Smiths' bungalow lay calm, peaceful ; the drawing- 
 room, as he entered it, struck him with the old, familiar 
 
T-T^ 
 
 -■!• . 
 
 ■'i 
 
 1. 
 
 
 si. 
 
 *«i 
 
 33<5 
 
 r///: HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 sense of refinement, indexing the refinement of its mis- 
 tress. Only one change caught his observant eyes. 
 Vincent Bering's photograph was no longer on the 
 mantle-piece, whence it had always looked out with a 
 certain challenge in its very prominence. Where had it 
 gone r What matter 1 There was no need for such 
 defiance now, thought George Dillon, with that curious 
 half-cynical, half-resentful smile he kept for one subject 
 only. She might keep the photograph where she chose, 
 now, and none would blame her. 
 
 So thinking, he set aside the curtain which hung at 
 his patient's door, and as he did so, resentment, cynicism, 
 vanished in quick sympathy. 
 
 "Ah! fever again, I see, — that's a bore," he said, 
 going over swiftly to the bed where Eugene Smith's 
 long length lay visibly shivering; for something, — the 
 exposure, the excitement, the strain, perhaps, of that 
 awful inaction behind the door against which Vincent 
 Bering was making that heroic stand, — had knocked 
 the big man over, a prey to an old enemy — malarial 
 fever. " When did it come on .''" 
 
 Muriel Smith, who sat on the bed, her hand in one 
 of her husband's shaking, trembling ones, looked up. 
 She was very pale, but very calm. 
 
 " Half an hour ago. It is a pity. We hoped it was 
 broken, didn*t we.-* But he will fret himself so, Boc- 
 tor — " Her eyes, on Br. Dillon's, were telling their 
 tale, so that it scarcely needed the rambling, quivering 
 voice to show that the fresh onset of fever had once 
 more clouded the sick man's brain. 
 
 " How can a fellow help fretting," murmured Eugene, 
 his teeth chattering, " when he waits like a coward be- 
 hind a door, where his best friend — " 
 
 The woman beside him winced, but interrupted him 
 bravely. "But I tell him, Boctor — and it's true, isn't 
 it.-* — that it was hardest for ///;;/ — and that — that 
 Vincent would rather have had it so — because he 
 had to leave no one, and Eugene had Gladys — and 
 me." 
 
)f its mis- 
 ant eyes. 
 ;r on the 
 ut with a 
 lere had it 
 for such 
 at curious 
 ne subject 
 she chose, 
 
 h hung at 
 cynicism, 
 
 " he said, 
 e Smith's 
 ing, — the 
 s, of that 
 h Vincent 
 :l knocked 
 — malarial 
 
 md in one 
 looked up. 
 
 >ped it was 
 if so, Doc- 
 illing their 
 , quivering 
 • had once 
 
 sd Eugene, 
 coward be- 
 
 rupted him 
 J true, isn't 
 :hat — that 
 )ecause he 
 adys — and 
 
 TIIF. TRUTH 
 
 337 
 
 Her voice seemed to bring comfort, and the glisten- 
 ing, feverish eyes closed. 
 
 "Go on with the mixture," said the doctor, vexedly 
 conscious of a lump in his throat. " This will wear 
 itself out in a day or two; and — you can't do more 
 than you're doing." 
 
 " I suppose not," she replied listlessly. 
 
 But the tragedy of her face remained in his memory 
 as he drove over the creaking, groaning bridge to Esh- 
 wara. The bazaar was full as ever with drifting hu- 
 manity, busy in the details of e very-day life. There 
 was no hint anywhere of the past storm ; not even in 
 the palace. It lay, as ever, silent ; its blank walls seem- 
 ing to hold the sunlight back from some secret within, 
 — from some veiled, hidden beauty.' The door was 
 closed, but old Akbar Khan came capering at his call, 
 his back roached, in bowing, like a caterpillar's. 
 
 "The tomb is finished, Ge-reeb-pim-waz^'' he mumbled, 
 in blubbering importance. ^'Ala! the sad day! But 
 this slave, knowing all customary things, hath remained 
 insistent on the workmen ; therefore all is befitting the 
 noble people, as the Hiizoor will see." 
 
 So, down the shadowy passage he led the way, crab- 
 like, to the chapel ; for hither, long years before. Father 
 Ninian had brought the body of Pietro Bonaventura, 
 and here, just in front of the Altar steps, he and Pietro's 
 granddaughter — the last of the old priest's charges, — 
 had been buried the day before. The masons had been 
 busy, building up the vault again ; but, as Akbar Khan 
 had said, the work was finished, the chapel restored to 
 its original state, swept, and garnished. Even the can- 
 dles were lit on the Altar, and four of the tallest tapers 
 had been placed, one at each corner of the stone slab 
 on which two more names would have to be cut ; while 
 from these tapers long strings of jasmine flowers, such 
 as native women wear, had been hung in drooping chains 
 to form an enclosure. On the slab itself great bossed 
 yellow marigolds were laid to simulate a cross. 
 
 Dr. Dillon turned to the cringing; figure beside him 
 
'w 
 
 ir: 
 
 =rf 
 
 33«^ 
 
 r///? I/OSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 \ 
 
 \\ 
 
 I) :■.■ 
 
 I 
 
 sharply ; but there was something ahnost pathetic in its 
 simper of conscious merit, its certainty of satisfaction. 
 
 •• Did you do that ?" he asked. 
 
 " Ge-recb-pun-waz ! " 
 
 There was a world of pride and of servitude In the 
 voice, and in the folded, prayerful hands which shot out 
 under the bowings. 
 
 "This slave made it! The Huzoor will notice it is 
 fitting. Even the ^ crass' — " he pointed his prayerful 
 hands to the marigolds — "is not forgotten. Has not 
 this dust-like one spent his life in preparing amusements 
 and spectacles for the noble people .'* He knows that 
 tombs require flowers, as women do." 
 
 Through the arches behind the old pantaloon Dr. 
 Dillon could catch a glimpse of the garden, ablaze with 
 colour, could smell the perfume of the now fading orange- 
 blossoms, could see the water-maze, with its marble ledges, 
 among the lotus, just wide enough for the flying feet of 
 a laughing girl. 
 
 The words, the contrast, held him, as the old man 
 went on with an orthodox whine of petition in his 
 voice: — 
 
 " So, since the Sirhar will doubtless appoint a guar- 
 dian of tombs, seeing there is none to inherit the pal- 
 ace, if the Protector of the Poor would intercede for 
 this slave with the Commissioner.? — if the Huzoor 
 would say that the dust-like one has provided the pleas- 
 ures of palaces all his life long for the noble people ; 
 yea ! from the cradle to the grave. If he will say 
 that — " he flourished his hands towards the slab — 
 " both in the making of garlands and the making of 
 ' crasses,' there is none equal — " 
 
 " For tombs require flowers^ as womeu do ! " The 
 phrase asserted itself again, and Dr. Dillon looked at 
 the wicked old face, so comic, so pathetic, with the 
 hopeless recognition of the humour of tragedy which 
 comes to all save the invincibly dull. 
 
 "You would do as well as anyone," he said gravely. 
 " I'll mention your name." 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 330 
 
 ''Gc - rceb — pun — waz ! " The title prolotif^ed itself 
 abnormally, and Akbar Kiian, a mask of toothless 
 smiles, darted, in instant assumption of his anticipated 
 office, to remove a fallen jasmine flower from Dr. Dil- 
 lon's path as if it had been a deatlly reptile. Indeed, 
 he paused in the midst of his parting salaams to ask 
 if it was in order that the populace be admitted to the 
 sanctuary, since the viisscti-miss (his accent of disdain, 
 tempered by reverence, was delicious) had announced 
 her desire to enter it that afternoon for farewell ; had, 
 indeed, asked him to be there at four to open the 
 door. 
 
 Dr. Dillon turned so sharply that the old courtier 
 began instantly on asseverations that, without orders — 
 
 ** Have everything ready, of course," interrupted the 
 doctor, impatiently ; so strode off across the courtyard, 
 his head down, his hands in his pockets, with a jerk, 
 as of irritation, in his walk. 
 
 He found Lance Carlyon in the balcony over the 
 river, very apologetic at being caught there against 
 orders. But it was so dreary keeping to one's room, 
 he said ; especially when there were a lot of dismal 
 things to think aboul ; and he really had been most 
 careful — had made two of his pioneers almost carry 
 him. 
 
 "Doesn't seem to have done much harm ! " admitted 
 the doctor, gruffly, as he sat feeling the ankle and look- 
 ing at Lance with the oddest air of impatience, irrita- 
 tion, and kindliness. Yet there was nothing strange in 
 Lance's wholesome young face, save that it showed a 
 little older, a little graver. 
 
 "It 7nust be beastly dull, too," went on the doctor, 
 loudly, suddenly. "You — you might get them to help 
 you over to the palace garden this afternoon ; about 
 four, you know, when it gets cool. That would be a 
 change." 
 
 Lance positively gasped. " Rath-er ! Why ! you told 
 me yesterday I wasn't to move a muscle for ten days ! " 
 
 Dr. Dillon positively blushed, under the brown. He 
 
340 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 I ' 
 
 ' \ 
 
 mm 
 
 got up vexedly, walked to the parapet, looked down the 
 river towards the mission house, and came back again. 
 
 '* No more you are ! " he said fiercely. " Not what 
 yoii call moving. But gentle exercise and — and con- 
 genial society — and all that! You know the treat- 
 ment ! Besides the Hutton-Wharton-Hood school don't 
 believe in rest. And — and — look here! — I'll put 
 you on the stiffest starch bandage ever made. — and — 
 Oh ! confound it, man, one must risk something some- 
 times, you know ! Here, orderly ; go over to the saJiib 's 
 washerman and tell him to make me double-extra-white- 
 shirt-front-starch, and if that doesn't counteract the — 
 the indiscretion — why — why — I wash r:y hands of the 
 whole business ! " 
 
 He was at work undoing the bandages already, and 
 the last part of his remarks came, argumentatively, to 
 himself. 
 
 " If you really think it might injure me permanently," 
 began Lance, soberly, in some surprise. 
 
 Dr. Dillon paused, and looked up with a vast resent- 
 ment. ** If you mean your foot, I don't think it will, 
 and that's all I'm responsible for — thank God ! " 
 
 But as, half an hour after this, he came out from say- 
 ing good-by to Erda Shepherd, he paused as he passed 
 the Pool of Immortality, and looked down into it as if 
 he felt some need of salvation. 
 
 "•yy / be not damned for this !'** he quoted softly, 
 shook his head, and went back to his prisoners. 
 
 So it came to pass that when Erda Shepherd — after 
 laying the wreath she had brought as a sort of crown to 
 Akbar Khan's * crass' — went into tbe garden for a last 
 look at the familiar places, she found Lance Carlyon 
 comfortably settled in one of the balconies o\crhanging 
 the river. 
 
 "This is luck!" he cried, forgetting the starched 
 bandage until reminded of it by a sudden twinge of pain. 
 " I thought I was never to see you again, and it seemed 
 a bit rough — on — on us both ; considering what a lot 
 we did together, you know. I've been writing you a 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 341 
 
 letter, to say how disappointed I was at not being able 
 to get over and see you all this morning." 
 
 "That was very kind of you," she s^id feebly, con- 
 scious that the surprise had made her feel a little limp. 
 Though, of course, she regretted nothing ; nothing at 
 all! 
 
 "I've been wanting to know such a lot," he went on. 
 " Of course I heard about the others, but iiot about you 
 — you needn't go away immediat>jly, need you.-*" he 
 asked, as he watched her face, — "if — if you could stop 
 a bit, it would be so jolly." 
 
 The frank wistfulness of his tone was too much for 
 her. " Yes ! I can stop," she said quietly ; " what is it 
 you want to know } " 
 
 " Lots of things ; but about yourself first of all! " 
 
 Herself ! That would be the hardest task, she felt ; 
 and the memory of that senseless flight from her own 
 reflection in the mirror came back to bring a quick flush 
 to her cheek. 
 
 "Of course, if you'd rather not — " began observant 
 Lance. 
 
 " I was only thinking there was very little to tell," 
 she put in quickly. She was not even going to allow 
 that, in keeping this incident to herself, she was giving 
 it any importance. She had told herself during the last 
 few days that it had been unfortunate, that was all. 
 Otherwise it was trivial ; since it did not, could not, alter 
 her decision. On the contrary, it strengthened it ; just 
 as a temptation resisted always strengthened that 
 resistance. 
 
 So, in the balcony where lovers had sat and talked of 
 love, those two sat talking of that midsummer night's 
 dream, of everything but love. Of Vincent Bering's 
 song, of the raft, of Lance's experience as he clung to 
 the highest crevice, and felt the water stop steady be- 
 tween his knee and his ankle. Of his incredulity when 
 Am-ma appeared, and his immediate lapse into uncon- 
 sciousness ; chiefly, he supposed, because there was no 
 need for further endurance. Of how he had no notion 
 
342 
 
 THE HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 mm 
 
 of anything till he found himself lying on a string bed 
 in the sun, right away on the other side of the town, 
 whither Am-ma hrd brought him, by Heaven knows 
 what secret passage. 
 
 So, as the shadows grew long, they seemed to invade 
 Lance's face, and bring a doubt to it. 
 
 " I haven't seen Am-ma since," he said, "so I haven't 
 found out yet why on earth he came to look for me .'* " 
 
 Erda rose and held out her hand. "We were all 
 looking for you, Mr. Carlyon," she said quietly, "and 
 we were all very glad to find you. And — -and I am 
 very sorry to — to lose you." 
 
 He rose too, stiffly, and, taking her hand, held it while 
 he looked into her face steadily. 
 
 "Good-by, Miss Shepherd — I'm — I'm sorry it has 
 to be that — but you know best. And thank you for 
 telling mc — so much." He paused, and his hand 
 tightened on hers a little. "Thanks all round, for 
 tJiat ! It has been the truth between us, hasn't it, 
 always.^ And so — though it has been a bit rough — 
 Good-by ! " 
 
 There was a pause, a curious pause. 
 
 "Good-by," she echoed dully, her face grown very 
 pale. His hand left hers gently. She turned and faced 
 the garden, where the shadows were invading the blaze 
 of colour, and the coming cool was sending the scent of 
 the orange-blossoms into the air. The water-maze, with 
 its marble ledges, where there was but room for the feet 
 of a laughing girl, lay still and glistening before her. 
 The palace, with its fanciful nooks, its illogical recesses, 
 its suggestion of elusive pleasures beyond the pale of 
 solid reality, rose up into the sky. 
 
 And something in the scene came home to her with 
 the sense that all this, in its way, was real also. That 
 this was part of the truth. The truth which she had 
 not told. 
 
 " // has been the truth hetweeu us\ hasnt it, always ? " 
 
 She turned suddenly to where Lance stood ; turned to 
 find him leaning ovi. the balcony, looking down into 
 
THE TRUTH 
 
 343 
 
 tring bed 
 :he town, 
 n knows 
 
 to invade 
 
 I haven't 
 r me r 
 were all 
 ;tly, ''and 
 ind I am 
 
 d it while 
 
 rry it has 
 k you for 
 
 his hand 
 ■ound, for 
 
 hasn't it, 
 ; rough — 
 
 -own very 
 and faced 
 the blaze 
 
 le scent of 
 laze, with 
 
 lor the feet 
 
 lefore her. 
 
 [l recesses, 
 le pale of 
 
 |o her with 
 [so. That 
 h she had 
 
 \akvays f 
 
 turned to 
 
 |(U)\vn into 
 
 the water with a listlessness he had held in check till 
 then ; and a great wave of remorse swept through her. 
 
 ** It has not been the truth between us!" she cried 
 impulsively, recklessly — " not quite — but, I will tell it 
 now — if you like." 
 
 He looked up, startled. " If you think I — I ought to 
 know." » 
 
 She gave a queer, half-impatient laugh. " Ought ! 
 How do I know.!* Yes! I suppose so — as it's true — 
 absolutely true. I can't help that, can I } " 
 
 There was a forlornness in the confession ; almost a 
 despair. 
 
 "Then tell me, please," said Lance, deliberately mak- 
 ing room tor her to lean over the balustrade beside him. 
 His heart was beating fast at something in her face, and 
 yet his uppermost thought was for her ; for that forlorn- 
 ness, that despair. " I can forget it afterwards — if you 
 want me to," he added consolingly. 
 
 She came to the place beside him, and looked down, 
 hiding her face from all but the sliding river; and he, 
 seeing her desire, looked into it also. 
 
 ** It was about my starting on the raft," she began 
 with a little sob. "I didn't tell you the truth about 
 that. I — I didn't come to give the warning at first — 
 I — I was coming to you." 
 
 ** Yes ! " he said quietly ; but his hand found hers and 
 held it. " You were coming to me, dear, — why } " 
 
 That touch seemed at once to help her, and to make 
 her desperate. 
 
 "Because — oh. Lance! it was so foolish! I saw 
 myself in the glass — all in white witli the orange in my 
 hand — and I thought of you — of what you said — of — • 
 of the World's Desire, and — and I felt I couldn't — so 
 — so I was coming to you — first — when Am-ma — 
 don't you see — " 
 
 There was a long pause. His hand, firm, strong, did 
 not tighten, it simply held hers as they both looked 
 down on the sliding river. 
 
 " Thanks ! " he said after a time ; and then there was 
 
IT 
 
 ''■■■,:i :■: 
 
 M 
 
 344 
 
 T//E HOSTS OF THE LORD 
 
 another pause until he added, " It will be a bit rough, 
 I'm afraid, on the Reverend David, but I don't see how 
 we can help that — do you ? " 
 
 And this time his clasp tightened. Erda said noth- 
 ing ; she felt there was nothing more to say, now that 
 the truth had been told between them. So while the 
 sinking sun flared red on the " Cradle of the Gods " 
 another man and woman consoled themselves for the 
 lost Paradise. 
 
 :'r1i 
 
a bit rough, 
 don't see how 
 
 ■da said noth- 
 
 say, now that 
 
 So while the 
 
 )f the Gods " 
 
 selves for the