‘Oh, foolish bargainer!’ cried Moti, ’when you know that has been given already!’

CHAPTER VI

Dr. Roberts, who lived, by the Maharajah’s kind permission, in the jail behind the monkey temple, soon found himself in rather an awkward dilemma.  Not in regard to the monkeys.  They were certainly troublesome.  They stole his biscuits, and made holes in his roof, and tore up the reports he wrote for the S.P.C.K. in England.  Dr. Roberts made allowance for the monkeys, however.  He had come to take away their sacred character, and nobody could expect them to like it.  If you had asked Dr. Roberts what his difficulty was he would have shown you Sonny Sahib.  The discovery was so wonderful that he had made.  He had found a yellow-haired, blue-eyed English boy in a walled palace of Rajputana, five hundred miles from any one of his race.  The boy was happy, healthy, and well content.  That much the Maharajah had pointed out to him; that much he could see for himself.  Beyond that the Maharajah had discouraged Dr. Roberts’ interest.  The boy’s name was Sunni, he had no other name, he had come ‘under the protection’ of the Maharajah when he was very young; and that was all His Highness could be induced to say.  Any more pointed inquiries he was entirely unable to understand.  There seemed to be no one else who knew.  Tooni could have told him, but Tooni was under orders that she did not dare to disobey.  In the bazar two or three conflicting stories, equally wonderful, were told of Sunni; but none that Dr. Roberts could believe.  In the end he found out about Sunni from Sunni himself, who had never forgotten one word of what Tooni told the Maharajah.  Sunni mentioned also, with considerable pride, that he had known three English words for a long time—­’wass’ and ‘bruss’ and ‘isstockin’.’

Then Dr. Roberts, with his heart full of the awful grief of the Mutiny, and thinking how gladly this waif and stray would be received by somebody, hurried to the Maharajah, and begged that the boy might be given back to his own people, that he, Dr. Roberts, might take him back to his own people at his personal risk and expense; that inquiries might at least be set on foot to find his relatives.

‘Yes,’ said the Maharajah, ’but not yet, ee-Wobbis.  The boy will be well here for a year, and you shall teach him.  At the end of that time we will speak again of this matter.’

Dr. Roberts was not satisfied.  He asked the Maharajah at all events to allow Sunni to live with him in his empty jail, but His Highness refused absolutely.

‘And look you, ee-Wobbis,’ said he, ’I have promised the Viceroy in Calcutta that you shall be safe in my country, and you shall be safe, though I never asked you to come here.  But if any khaber goes to Calcutta about this boy, and if there is the least confusion regarding him, your mouth shall be stopped, and you shall not talk any more to my people.  For my part, I do not like your medicines, and you have not yet cured Proteb Singh of his short leg; he goes as lame as ever!’