Читать книгу Caravans By Night - Harry Hervey - Страница 20

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A half hour after Trent took the receiver from the telephone, Colonel Urqhart and Merriton, Head of the Police, rattled into his compound in a dog-cart. Accompanying them were several officers to whom Trent spoke by name.

"... And you found him in the ruined temple!" exclaimed the colonel, in the living-room, when the customary formalities had been observed. "Good God, major, what a pity! The poor, poor boy! His father and I were friends, y' know."

"I'm positive Chatterjee did it," declared Trent. "You see...." And he told of the encounter on the road and the subsequent events.

"What were you saying, major?" asked the Head of the Police, coming out of the bedroom just as he finished. "But first—what's this?"

He held out the oval of silver-overlaid coral, and Trent explained how he had found it.

"Some sort of native charm, I dare say," observed Merriton. "Tell me about this Chatterjee."

When Trent had retold his story, the Head of the Police enquired:

"Where's the telephone? Ah! I see it!"

It was nearly midnight when Colonel Urqhart and Merriton prepared to leave.

"Major," said Trent's commanding officer, "you'd better get some sleep. Eckard and Gerrish will remain to—"

"Sleep?" echoed Trent.

"You'll need it if you're going in the morning—and you are going? Orders, y' know. There's nothing you can do here. I'll personally attend to everything."

"Of course I'll go." This from Trent as he passed his hand wearily over his forehead. "However, I shall sit up to-night. Eckard and Gerrish can remain—but I'd rather be alone."

The colonel cast a glance toward Manlove's room.

"Poor chap!" he sighed. He extended his hand. "Well, good luck, major. I probably won't see you again before you leave."

They shook hands, and the colonel and Merriton departed. Not until the sounds of the dog-cart had dwindled did Trent discover that the Head of Police had left the piece of coral on the table. His first impulse was to call after him, but he decided to give it to him later, and dropped it into his pocket.

Through the seemingly endless night Trent kept vigil beside the curtained bed where Manlove lay. He sat huddled in a chair, his face expressionless; frequently he rose to pace the floor; on several occasions one of the men in the next room heard him murmuring to himself. Shortly after midnight (about the time the veiled Memsahib's train roared out of Gaya toward Mughal Sarai) it began to rain. That was the prelude to a storm that crashed and tore in a fury about the bungalow. In the dead silence following, when the damp heat shut in and stars sparkled in the rain-swept sky, jackals chattered mournfully in the jungle.

The last stars passed and the earth awoke in a bath of gold. Ganeesh, with a frightened, awed expression, crept in hesitatingly with tea, and behind him came one of the officers.

"I'll have to get ready to leave now, Eckard," Trent said laconically to the officer, when he had gulped down the hot liquid.

Twenty minutes later, washed and shaved, he came out of his bedroom and found Colonel Urqhart waiting for him.

"Just came by to tell you Merriton hasn't found Chatterjee yet," announced the colonel. "Cleared out, it seems. But they'll get him."

"Uncommonly nice of you, Colonel," returned Trent. His face was drawn, his eyes veined with red, and a pallor underlay his tanned skin.

The colonel waved his hand toward the door. "My cart's outside. I'll drive you to the station. 'Bout time, isn't it?"

Trent nodded. He strode to the door of Manlove's room and halted on the threshold, looking with dry eyes into the hushed apartment. A diamond-winged dragonfly lay dreaming on the window-sill ... the white face shone through the mosquito-curtain.... Thus Trent stood for a moment, then he turned and joined the colonel.

He talked very little during the ride to the station, and Colonel Urqhart did not press conversation. In the midst of chattering native passengers and a few whites, with an engine puffing heat into the already suffocating air, he parted with the colonel,—a handshake and a few perfunctory words—and settled down in his carriage.

Not until the train jerked out of the station did the strain snap. He relaxed wearily upon the leather-lined seat, a steady hammer of pain at the back of his neck. He felt suddenly alone, intensely alone—a sensation that carried him back to his boyhood, to a night when he awoke in a strange, black-dark room. He shuddered involuntarily. His eyelids burned. Sleep—sleep. The engine seemed to purr that one word, and the swaying and rocking of the carriage lulled him into drowsiness.

He fell asleep, suddenly, with a picture of the hushed room—the diamond-winged dragonfly—painted upon his vision.