"I plucked my beard in my distress; I felt so helpless. If only the headman was here, together we might have devised something. But alone I was powerless. Plunged in gloomy forebodings, I did not notice the approach of the barber, until he touched my sleeve to announce his presence.

"'You have heard what they mean to do?' he asked.

"I nodded.

"'We must save them, Chunda Das. But I beg of you not to place any reliance on the patel's coming, for he sides with the rest of the villagers, and will help them to deal out the swift justice which he believes to be well deserved. Besides it was his cows that died this morning.'

"At this statement, then indeed my last hope was gone. For we were far away from any town where I could have invoked the aid of the Emperor's soldiers. I shook my head despairingly.

"'Oh, yes, Chunda Das, you will devise some way,' protested the barber, reading the hopelessness in my mind. 'You have a fleet horse, and can ride after Sheikh Ahmed, find him, and call him back again. Or, if he be really dead, you can bring word of how his end came.'

"'Will there be time for all this?' I asked dubiously.

"'We must make time,' he answered. 'The patel will be back before long.

You can use the interval in getting some food, and in preparing for the road. I think your influence with him will at least secure delay for some days, until you can return with the information in quest of which you go. But mark my words, unless the Sheikh shows himself, or you can prove how he met his death on the road, then a.s.suredly will the doom of our friends be sealed.'

"'Very well,' I said, contented in my mind; for if my search for Sheikh Ahmed failed, I could bring back with me some of our master Akbar's soldiery to rescue the prisoners.

"During the afternoon the headman returned, and I lost no time before interviewing him. I told him how firmly convinced I was that Baji Lal and Devaka were innocent, and that I would prove it if he gave me the chance to do so. At first he shook his head, but on my promising that the unfortunate couple would in the interval make no effort to escape, and that I would surely be back in two weeks' time whether or not success in my mission attended me, he yielded to my entreaties, the less reluctantly because I further undertook to pay him the value of his dead cows.

"So, after a brief good-bye visit to Baji Lal and his wife, I set forth on my journey.

"Six days later I entered the bazaar of Punderpur. I went to a travellers' rest house with which I was familiar, to see whether I could glean any information as to the present whereabouts of Sheikh Ahmed, who, in his travels, I had discovered, had been making for this place.

"Seated around the courtyard of the caravanserai were many visitors and their friends of the town. With some of the latter I was acquainted, but for the present I only returned their greetings with a silent salaam. I was anxious to meet with an old friend, a munshi, learned in many languages, whose profession kept him on the outlook for the numerous travellers from distant parts who pa.s.sed this way.

"I had just espied the man of whom I was in quest, seated at some distance among a group of idlers, when I was accosted by a stranger handsomely accoutred and of line bearing. He said that he had heard I was recently arrived from Sengali. He had friends in that village, and would be glad to hear of them.

"I told him that for the present I was occupied with pressing business, but a little later I would be at his disposal, and pleased to give him any information in my power. He thanked me courteously, and said he would return in the evening, when, perhaps, I would be more at leisure.

I had cut short this interview, paying, indeed, little heed to the stranger, for I had noticed that my friend, the munshi, not knowing of my presence in the inn, was in the act of taking his departure. I hastened after him.

"The venerable munshi was delighted to see me, and insisted on my sharing his evening meal. We moved in the direction of his home, and he gave me the chit-chat of the day. Until our repast was finished I did not mention the object of my visit. Only after we were comfortably seated on the veranda, enjoying the cool night air, did I approach the subject, discreetly, as was fitting, by talking on topics quite at variance from the one in my mind. But after a time I ventured to ask whether many travellers had pa.s.sed recently. He looked at me shrewdly and smiled.

"'At last, my friend, you tell me the reason of your coming here. You are in search of some one.'

"'Truly I am,' I replied, 'and it is a matter of life or death to find the man I am seeking.'

"Thereupon, without further preamble, I related the story of Baji Lal and the missing Sheikh.

"At the end of my narrative Munshi Khyraz--such was my host's name--sat silent for a spell. I knew my friend, and allowed him his own time to make any comment. Presently he broke from his reflections.

"'About the time you mention,' he began, 'just before the first rains, a stranger was brought into this town by some woodcutters. Their story was that the wounded man had been attacked by his servant when travelling, and left for dead in the jungle.'

"I started, and leaned toward him eagerly.

"'A clue!' I cried. 'A clue! Where is he now?'

"The old sage looked at me with disapproval in his eyes.

"'Excitement and impetuosity of speech are for the young, my friend,' he said, gravely. 'They are not becoming in the matured.'

"I lay back again on my cushions, feeling justly censured. The light of displeasure dying from his eyes, the munshi proceeded:

"'I had the victim of this outrage carried to my house, and, his wounds not proving serious, he was soon well, and able to think of resuming his journey. He was very reticent concerning the motive of his servant for attempting his life, and foolishly, to my mind, made no effort to trace the miscreant. When leaving he said that in all probability he would return this way a few weeks later. So, my friend, he may be here any day, for it is a good long while since he left.'

"Repressing my eagerness this time, I sat still for a few minutes, then said:

"'I think it is certain from what you have told me that the wounded man was the one I am now seeking.'

"'Perhaps, perhaps, but only time will decide,' he replied, cautiously.

'You must wait and see.'

"'Wait! wait!' I cried, impatiently. 'There is no time to wait. I must act, and that quickly.'

"The munshi looked at me commiseratingly, but contented himself with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Just then a servant approached, and whispered in his master's ear. The old man sat up from his half-reclining att.i.tude, and methought for a moment that an amused smile crept over his face.

"'Admit him,' he said to the attendant. 'Admit him at once.'

"Then, turning to me with his accustomed gravity, he added in explanation: 'A friend of mine has called. He is an interesting man, and I want you to know him.'

"I was about to protest that I had not come there to make new acquaintances, when the curtain was pushed aside, and none other than the stranger who had addressed me at the caravanserai stepped on to the veranda. He crossed over to the master of the house, and greeted him affectionately. I decided to remain at least a short time, and waited quietly until my host should introduce his visitor. This he straightway proceeded to do, presenting us to each other with a courteous wave of his hand.

"A glow of pleasure suffused the newcomer's face when he recognized me.

"'Fate is indeed kind,' said he. 'I was going to try and find you again at the rest house, when, lo and behold! here you are, the guest of my good friend, the munshi.'

"'What! Are you already acquainted?' exclaimed our host, visibly surprised, despite the philosophy of self-restraint he was so fond of preaching.

"It was my turn now to bestow a reproving look.

"'We have met,' I rejoined, with proper dignity, 'but as yet I have not the honour of acquaintance.'

"To cover this well-deserved rebuke, the munshi clapped his hands and bade the servant who responded to the summons to bring sherbet for our refreshment. After the cooling draught, and when we were all comfortably settled, the stranger, whose name had not yet been spoken, turned to me and said:

"'Now perhaps you will give me the news from Sengali.'

"'It is grievous,' I returned, 'and it is owing to trouble there that I am now here.'

"'Indeed. And what may the trouble be? As I told you this afternoon, I have friends in the village, and am consequently interested.'

"'Aye, aye, tell him the story you have just told me,' called out the munshi.

"Courteously the stranger awaited my response, in his eyes an anxious look of inquiry. As I proceeded with my recital his excitement grew apace, and he leaned forward in his eagerness to miss not a word. At the finish he started to his feet, and, catching hold of my arm, exclaimed:

"'What! You tell me they will burn down their very home?'

"I nodded a.s.sent.