“He said that?” cried the Prince in a startled voice. Then he pointed his finger to the grave. “The man lying there said that?”
“Yes.”
“And no one listened, I suppose?” said Shere Ali bitterly.
“Or listened too late,” said Phillips. “Like Dewes, who only since he met you in Calcutta one day upon the racecourse, seems dimly to have understood the words the dead man spoke.”
Shere Ali was silent. He stood looking at the grave and the obelisk with a gentler face than he had shown before.
“Why did he not wish it?” he asked at length.
“He said that it would mean unhappiness for you; that it might mean ruin for Chiltistan.”
“Did he say that?” said Shere Ali slowly, and there was something of awe in his voice. Then he recovered himself and cried defiantly. “Yet in one point he was wrong. It will not mean ruin for Chiltistan.”
So far he had spoken in English. Now he turned quickly towards his friends and spoke in his own tongue.
“It is time. We will go,” and to Captain Phillips he said, “You shall ride back with me to Kohara. I will leave you at the doorway of the Residency.” And these words, too, he spoke in his own tongue.
There rose a clamour among the seven who waited in the doorway, and loudest of all rose the voice of the mullah, protesting against Shere Ali’s promise.
“My word is given,” said the Prince, and he turned with a smile to Captain Phillips. “In memory of my friend,”—he pointed to the grave—“For it seems I had a friend once amongst the white people. In memory of my friend, I give you your life.”
CHAPTER XXXII
SURPRISES FOR CAPTAIN PHILLIPS
The young nobles ceased from their outcry. They went sullenly out and mounted their horses under the ruined wall of the old fort. But as they mounted they whispered together with quick glances towards Captain Phillips. The Resident intercepted the glance and had little doubt as to the subject of the whispering.
“I am in the deuce of a tight place,” he reflected; “it’s seven to one against my ever reaching Kohara, and the one’s a doubtful quantity.”
He looked at Shere Ali, who seemed quite undisturbed by the prospect of mutiny amongst his followers. His face had hardened a little. That was all.
“And your horse?” Shere Ali asked.
Captain Phillips pointed towards the clump of trees where he had tied it up.
“Will you fetch it?” said Shere Ali, and as Phillips walked off, he turned towards the nobles and the old mullah who stood amongst them. Phillips heard his voice, as he began to speak, and was surprised by a masterful quiet ring in it. “The doubtful quantity seems to have grown into a man,” he thought, and the thought gained strength when he rode his horse back from the clump of trees towards the group. Shere Ali met him gravely.