Читать книгу Caravans By Night - Harry Hervey - Страница 25

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Before Trent left his room he placed the oval of coral in his handbag; then he went out on the portico to smoke and watch the stars gather about the cleaving silhouette of a church steeple across from the hotel grounds.

At one end of the veranda two shadowy forms were conversing; a woman's voice drifted to him, a soft voice that slurred and caressed the words it spoke. It was vaguely familiar, and in a detached manner he identified it with the girl of the dining-hall.

The phosphorescent hands of his wrist-watch crept to five minutes to eight before Euan Kerth put in his appearance. A heavy footstep announced a turbaned man. He halted in the light cast from a window; executed a salaam. He wore white breeches, an alpaca coat and a white shawl. A huge turban shadowed a brown face and a carefully waxed mustache. Had it not been for that and the slim hands, Trent would not have recognized him.

"Salaam, Huzoor!" was his greeting. "Is the Huzoor ready?"—this in the manner of a native trying to affect an Oxford accent.

Trent nodded and rose, and Kerth fell in behind.

"There's no need to take a gharry," said Kerth. "The Sadar Bazaar isn't far."

Their walk led them past the dusty red brick barracks that Trent had seen that afternoon, and within a short while they reached the Sadar Bazaar, where, after many inquiries, they were directed to the shop of Abdul Kerim—a dingy little hole in a narrow lane. A native was lounging in the doorway, but at their approach he straightened up and salaamed.

"Major Trent Sahib?" he queried respectfully, with a grin that displayed betel-stained teeth. "I am Chandra Lal." Then he looked inquisitively at Kerth. "Who is this, Sahib?"

"My servant."

Chandra Lal shook his head. "I was instructed to bring only Major Trent Sahib."

"But it is my wish that my bearer accompany me."

The native shifted uncomfortably. "The sahib's wish is law; yet if I do other than I have been bidden I will be a disobedient servant." Another glimpse of scarlet teeth; a rather nervous smile. "So what shall I do, Sahib?"

"My man shall go—maloom hai!"—sternly. "I will be responsible to your mistress."

Chandra Lal saluted. "Achcha, Sahib! I have a carriage in the street!"

At the mouth of the lane a landau was waiting, and when Trent and Kerth were seated on cushioned springs, Chandra Lal flicked his whip.

Out of the Cantonment they were whirled, and eastward into the old city, where constricted streets refused passage to any vehicle. They drew up by an oval-shaped, tree-grown expanse, and the landau was left in charge of a man who was waiting for that particular purpose. Then began a journey on foot that was memorable to the two Englishmen because of the muddle of dim, narrow highways into which it took them. Chandra Lal leading, they percolated through streets and passages that stank of every unpleasantness known to Indian cities; mere clefts where the stars swam at distances immeasurable; stairs, tunneled lanes and alleys, and amidst ramshackle, tumbled buildings and temples and shrines.

Trent's sense of direction was completely baffled when they came at length to a quarter where the houses were more pretentious—a long street of several-storied dwellings, of projecting eaves, of white walls and of latticed windows that hinted at the lurking mystery of zenana and harem.

Into one of these houses the native guided them, up a short flight of stairs and into a dark room. The air was fresh and cool, fanned by invisible punkahs. A snap brought on electric lights, and Trent blinked about him; blinked and suppressed a smile, for he realized the entrance into the room while it was yet unlighted was done for purely dramatic effect.

His eyes, roving around the chamber, missed not a detail; a chamber wholly amazing and incredible to the Westerner, who rarely, if ever, sees into the houses of the wealthy, high caste Hindus. Trent, however, (to whom India was an open book, as much as it ever will be to any white man) was only mildly surprised. The chandeliers were crystal, tinted amber by the yellow lights. Brassware and gold brocade (the latter hung to hide all doors except the one by which they had entered) introduced an effect of rich browns and richer golds; and a spire of incense uncoiled from a brazen bowl to be dispelled by punkahs and leave the heavy fragrance of musk swimming in the air.

"My mistress will join you presently," announced Chandra Lal. "Be seated, Sahib, and you will be served with refreshments!"