Read The Broken Road Page 33


  CHAPTER XXXIII

  IN THE RESIDENCY

  Captain Phillips with a sharp gesture ordered the Khan back to theshadowy corner from which he had sprung out. Then he shut the door and,with the shutting of the door, the darkness deepened suddenly in thehall. He shot the bolt and put up the chain. It rattled in his ears witha startling loudness. Then he stood without speech or movement. Outsidehe heard Shere Ali's voice ring clear, and the army of tribesmenclattered past towards the town. The rattle of their weapons, the hum oftheir voices diminished. Captain Phillips took his handkerchief from hispocket and wiped his forehead. He had the sensations of a man reprieved.

  "But it's only a reprieve," he thought. "There will be no commutation."

  He turned again towards the dark corner.

  "How did you come?" he asked in a low voice.

  "By the orchard at the back of the house."

  "Did no one see you?"

  "I hid in the orchard until I saw the red coat of one of your servants. Icalled to him and he let me in secretly. But no one else saw me."

  "No one in the city?"

  "I came barefoot in a rough cloak with the hood drawn over my face," saidthe Khan. "No one paid any heed to me. There was much noise and runningto and fro, and polishing of weapons. I crept out into the hill-side atthe back and so came down into your orchard."

  Captain Phillips shrugged his shoulders. He opened a door and led theKhan into a room which looked out upon the orchard.

  "Well, we will do what we can," he said, "but it's very little. They willguess immediately that you are here of course."

  "Once before--" faltered the Khan, and Phillips broke in upon himimpatiently.

  "Yes, once before. But it's not the same thing. This is a house, not afort, and I have only a handful of men to defend it; and I am not Luffe."Then his voice sharpened. "Why didn't you listen to him? All this is yourfault--yours and Dewes', who didn't understand, and held his tongue."

  The Khan was mystified by the words, but Phillips did not take thetrouble to explain. He knew something of the Chilti character. They wouldhave put up with the taxes, with the selling into slavery, with all theother abominations of the Khan's rule. They would have listened to theexhortations of the mullahs without anything coming of it, so long as noleader appeared. They were great accepters of facts as they were. Let thebrother or son or nephew murder the ruling Khan and sit in his place,they accepted his rule without any struggles of conscience. But let a manrise to lead them, then they would bethink them of the exhortations oftheir priests and of their own particular sufferings and flock to hisstandard. And the man had risen--just because twenty-five years ago theKhan would not listen to Luffe.

  "It's too late, however, for explanations," he said, and he clapped hishands together for a servant. In a few moments the light of a lampgleamed in the hall through the doorway. Phillips went quickly out of theroom, closing the door behind him.

  "Fasten the shutters first," he said to the servant in the hall. "Thenbring the lamp in."

  The servant obeyed, but when he brought the lamp into the room, and sawthe Khan of Chiltistan standing at the table with no more dignity ofdress or, indeed, of bearing than any beggar in the kingdom, he nearlylet the lamp fall.

  "His Highness will stay in this house," said Phillips, "but his presencemust not be spoken of. Will you tell Poulteney Sahib that I would like tospeak to him?" The servant bowed his forehead to the palms of his handand turned away upon his errand. But Poulteney Sahib was already at thedoor. He was the subaltern in command of the half company of Sikhs whichserved Captain Phillips for an escort and a guard.

  "You have heard the news I suppose," said Phillips.

  "Yes," replied Poulteney. He was a wiry dark youth, with a little blackmoustache and a brisk manner of speech. "I was out on the hill afterchikkor when my shikari saw Shere Ali and his crowd coming down thevalley. He knew all about it and gave me a general idea of the situation.It seems the whole country's rising. I should have been here before, butit seemed advisable to wait until it was dark. I crawled in between acouple of guard-posts. There is already a watch kept on the house," andthen he stopped abruptly. He had caught sight of the Khan in thebackground. He had much ado not to whistle in his surprise. But herefrained and merely bowed.

  "It seems to be a complicated situation," he said to Captain Phillips."Does Shere Ali know?" and he glanced towards the Khan.

  "Not yet," replied Phillips grimly. "But I don't think it will be longbefore he does."

  "And then there will be ructions," Poulteney remarked softly. "Yes, therewill be ructions of a highly-coloured and interesting description."

  "We must do what we can," said Phillips with a shrug of his shoulders."It isn't much, of course," and for the next two hours the twenty-fiveSikhs were kept busy. The doors were barricaded, the shutters closed uponthe windows and loopholed, and provisions were brought in from theouthouses.

  "It is lucky we had sense enough to lay in a store of food," saidPhillips.

  The Sikhs were divided into watches and given their appointed places.Cartridges were doled out to them, and the rest of the ammunition wasplaced in a stone cellar.

  "That's all that we can do," said Phillips. "So we may as well dine."

  They dined with the Khan, speaking little and with ears on the alert,in a room at the back of the house. At any moment the summons mightcome to surrender the Khan. They waited for a blow upon the door, thesound of the firing of a rifle or a loud voice calling upon them fromthe darkness. But all they heard was the interminable babble of theKhan, as he sat at the table shivering with fear and unable to eat amorsel of his food.

  "You won't give me up!... I have been a good friend to the English....All my life I have been a good friend to the English."

  "We will do what we can," said Phillips, and he rose from the table andwent up on to the roof. He lay down behind the low parapet and lookedover towards the town. The house was a poor place to defend. At the backbeyond the orchard the hill-side rose and commanded the roof. On theeast of the house a stream ran by to the great river in the centre ofthe valley. But the bank of the stream was a steep slippery bank ofclay, and less than a hundred yards down a small water-mill on theopposite side overlooked it. The Chiltis had only to station a fewriflemen in the water-mill and not a man would be able to climb downthat bank and fetch water for the Residency. On the west stood thestables and the storehouses, and the barracks of the Sikhs, a square ofbuildings which would afford fine cover for an attacking force. Only infront within the walls of the forecourt was there any open space whichthe house commanded. It was certainly a difficult--nay, ahopeless--place to defend.

  But Captain Phillips, as he lay behind the parapet, began to be puzzled.Why did not the attack begin? He looked over to the city. It was a placeof tossing lights and wild clamours. The noise of it was carried on thenight wind to Phillips' ears. But about the Residency there was quietudeand darkness. Here and there a red fire glowed where the guards wereposted; now and then a shower of sparks leaped up into the air as a freshlog was thrown upon the ashes; and a bright flame would glisten on thebarrel of a rifle and make ruddy the dark faces of the watchmen. Butthere were no preparations for an attack.

  Phillips looked across the city. On the hill the Palace was alive withmoving lights--lights that flashed from room to room as though mensearched hurriedly.

  "Surely they must already have guessed," he murmured to himself. Themoving lights in the high windows of the Palace held his eyes--so swiftlythey flitted from room to room, so frenzied seemed the hurry of thesearch--and then to his astonishment one after another they began to dieout. It could not be that the searchers were content with the failure oftheir search, that the Palace was composing itself to sleep. In the citythe clamour had died down; little by little it sank to darkness. Therecame a freshness in the air. Though there were many hours still beforedaylight, the night drew on towards morning. What could it mean, hewondered? Why was the Residency left in peace?

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nbsp; And as he wondered, he heard a scuffling noise upon the roof behind him.He turned his head and Poulteney crawled to his side.

  "Will you come down?" the subaltern asked; "I don't know what to do."

  Phillips at once crept back to the trap-door. The two men descended, andPoulteney led the way into the little room at the back of the house wherethey had dined. There was no longer a light in the room; and they stoodfor awhile in the darkness listening.

  "Where is the Khan?" whispered Phillips.

  "I fixed up one of the cellars for him," Poulteney replied in the sametone, and as he ended there came suddenly a rattle of gravel upon theshutter of the window. It was thrown cautiously, but even so it startledPhillips almost into a cry.

  "That's it," whispered Poulteney. "There is someone in the orchard.That's the third time the gravel has rattled on the shutter. Whatshall I do?"

  "Have you got your revolver?" asked Phillips.

  "Yes."

  "Then stand by."

  Phillips carefully and noiselessly opened the shutter for an inch or two.

  "Who's that?" he asked in a low voice; he asked the question in Pushtu,and in Pushtu a voice no louder than his own replied:

  "I want to speak to Poulteney Sahib."

  A startled exclamation broke from the subaltern. "It's my shikari," hesaid, and thrusting open the shutter he leaned out.

  "Well, what news do you bring?" he asked; and at the answer CaptainPhillips for the first time since he had entered into his twilit hallhad a throb of hope. The expeditionary troops from Nowshera, advancingby forced marches, were already close to the borders of Chiltistan. Newshad been brought to the Palace that evening. Shere Ali had started withevery man he could collect to take up the position where he meant togive battle.

  "I must hurry or I shall be late," said the shikari, and he crawled awaythrough the orchard.

  Phillips closed the shutter again and lit the lamp. The news seemed toogood to be true. But the morning broke over a city of women and old men.Only the watchmen remained at their posts about the Residency grounds.