OCR Text |
Show rp rp nnn cp t? q 'n S II H 1 ol si j -3 LAJ ELJ U L J U Li ill) L1,ZJ LI3 ElJ U BY TALBOT MUNDY TALBOT MUNDY WNU SERVICE THE STORY THUS FAB Captain Carl Norwood has been sent from his native England to the Kadur River district in India, along with his Indispensable msnservant, Moses O'Leary, 6oldier of fortune. Norwood's Job is to survey the district to determine whether a valuable secret diamond mine belongs to the temple priests or to the ruler, the Maharajah of Kadur. Norwood calls on the British Residency to pay his Initial respects. On his way he catches a glimpse of two women in a palace carriage, one of whom Is young and beautiful. The other woman he knows to be the Maharanee of Kadur. O'Leary later tells him that the young woman Is an American girl named Lynn Harding, who with her aunt, Mrs. Deborah Harding, is a guest at the palace. On a sightseeing tour Mrs. Harding sprains an ankle, and sends to the palace for aid. Prince Rundhia, handsome, spoiled nephew of the rulers, comes to her rescue, and takes her back to the palace where he meets Lynn. CHAPTER HI Continued "We love you and we will all do our best to make you happy," said the Maharanee. "But the astrologer astrolo-ger says thi? is a time of great crisis cri-sis for us. I believe you are a sending, send-ing, as we call it There are many sendings just now, and they are badly bad-ly mixed. They are contradictory and in opposition to one another. His Highness my husband is so anxious anx-ious to make a good impression on Captain Norwood. It is so important. impor-tant. Will you help us to make a good impression on him?" "But I might do the wrong thing! I might say the wrong word. I might commit some indiscretion. Am I in on an intrigue?" asked Lynn. "Yes, dear, a very serious intrigue." in-trigue." "Oh, what fun! Is it dangerous?" "The astrologer says that it might become dangerous." "Maharanee dear, this sounds wonderful! Is it a real dark oriental intrigue?" The Maharanee laughed amiably, after a second's hesitation and with noticeable effort: "Yes, dear, it is certainly dark. It is secret, and it has to do with a diamond mine, but I hope you won't mention that to anyone." "I'm glad you warned me. 01 course, I won't mention it" CHAPTER IV Captain Carl Norwood's tent faced the Kadur River. About a mile away, it resembled a moonlit irregular ir-regular ribbon of silver streaming from the enormous temple; and the temple was a citadel of mystery that loomed against Indian night. There was a stillness that seemed like the womb of music, into which the clatter and voices from the camp kitchen fell naturally and the hoof-beats hoof-beats of a cantering horse thudded on dusty earth like calculated drumbeats. drum-beats. A shadow that was a horse was reined in with unnecessary vigor. A palace messenger dismounted. Norwood's servant, careful for his master's dignity, accepted a silver tube with the air of conferring a favor. Norwood opened the tube, after he had made sure that the servant had withdrawn to a sufficient distance. Then he went to the table and wrote, inserted his own letter into the tube and returned it to the messenger, who cantered away. "Tell Moses I want him." Moses O'Leary came and stood in the door of the tent. "I've been invited to the palace for supper." "I haven't had time yet, sir, to find out much about what's doing at the palace." "Has anyone from the palace been enquiring about me?" "Yes, sir. Prince Rundhia's servant serv-ant came asking if you'd need to borrow a horse. He knew you didn't, because we were standing right under un-der our horses' noses when he asked the question. Besides, I weren't the right person to ask. But he slipped me a box o' the Prince's cigars and asked a lot about you." "What did you tell him?" "Me? I told him you're the mildest mild-est man on earth, and how nothing interests you so much as running surveys." "What did you find out?" "Same as I told you not much. He had his orders, and he hadn't had time to forget 'em, and he's scared o' the Prince. I got a line on the Prince all right. His brains are made o' curry powder and red pepper. He's about as safe to tackle as a she-cobra that has just laid her eggs. He's what they call a steamer." "What do you mean?" "Nothing for nothing. Lavish at cent per cent. He'd give you anybody's any-body's money, if he knew what he was getting for it." "If I should hear of your taking his money, you'll find yourself in serious se-rious trouble." "Me?" "Yes. You." "I'm incorruptible." "What else did you find "out?" "Nothing, excep' what I've already al-ready told you. There's a Mrs. Harding and a Miss Harding at the guesthouse. Mrs. Harding has a hurt foot and has been attended by Prince Rundhia's doctor. Miss Harding Hard-ing has already met Rundhia, and they've talked." "What about the doctor?" "He's no good." "No good in what way; "No self-respect. Scared. He lets the Prince brow-beat him takes a tongue lashing without answering back lets himself be treated like a dog no dignity excep' when the Prince isn't looking." "Nothing new about Noor Mah-lam?" Mah-lam?" "No. I reckon they'll call him off. He was just a try-out, that's all he was sort o' skirmisher to feel out the lay of the land." "Find out all you can about Prince Rundhia." "That ought to be easy. I'll go to the bazaar tonight." Nothing was ever quite like it in Kadur's history. Plumbing, electric light, modern furniture, and even the will to do it can't make an Indian In-dian palace, dusty with tradition, lend itself to what the Maharanee kept insisting was a picnic. She wanted to be so modern and unconventional uncon-ventional that even Rundhia would approve. Sullenly defied by the outraged out-raged head-steward, whose turban almost rose from his hair with horror, hor-ror, she dismissed him and took charge. The eventual compromise was something between a bean-feast and a banquet, in the glass-roofed patio, amid a forest of potted palms and canaries in silver cages. There were Chinese lanterns and an utter drunkenness drunk-enness of flowers. The long table was loaded with silver and gold. SIR Norwood found himself between the Maharanee and Aunty. But there were paper napkins (those were Lynn's suggestion). The Maharanee summoned the Keeper of the Jewels, selected a cluster of the most famous diamonds from the Kadur collection, and pinned it artfully on Lynn's black silk. Lynn looked stunning in embroidered em-broidered black silk. It showed off her eyes and her golden hair. Excitement Ex-citement made her parted lips so kissable that the Maharanee had qualms of conscience. "Darling, my nephew Rundhia is a bad boyl Be careful!" Lynn laughed. The prospect of annoying Aunty was delicious. Aunty would be scandalized by high jinks in a palace. Aunty was one of those people who think that palace life should be like one endless coronation corona-tion ceremony in Westminster Abbey. Ab-bey. She could count on Aunty to keep Rundhia within bounds. The first arrival was Rundhia, in dinner jacket and turban of cloth of silver, critical of the cocktails; he introduced ingredients learned in Europe. He watched Lynn. He made apparently random remarks to discover her system, in case she had one. "Miss Harding, you look innocent, gay and very beautiful. But I mistrust mis-trust you. Your emotions seem to me to be too honest You will go home and laugh at us all." "Going home soon," Lynn answered. an-swered. "Aunty didn't laugh when she said that She meant it." "Is mat what amuses you?" "No. I'd rather stay here. I love it" "I wonder what you mean by love it. Do you love us?" "1 love the Maharanee. And I love these pussy-footed eastern nights. I'm wild about it all. I can't bear the thought of going home yet." Rundhia smiled. The sheep-faced Maharajah entered, en-tered, toadied by attendants, who arranged the cushions for him in a chromium-plated armchair at the end of the long room. Too polite to speak any other language than English Eng-lish in Lynn's presence, he frowned sullenly at Rundhia and refused a cocktail: "Your Bengali didn't bring my tonic." "Sorry," said Rundhia. "He was attending to Mrs. Harding. He hasn't forgotten it." Then came Norwood. Hot night though it was, he was in full mess uniform, not whites. Shorter than Rundhia; but five feet eleven inches is, after all, plenty, if it's built right and properly carried. Rundhia's six feet one, and almost perfect features, fea-tures, somehow weren't so noticeable notice-able after Norwood came into the room. Norwood had red hair and one of those bits of moustaches that draw attention to the line of his lips. His red shell jacket gloved a vigorous torso. There was nothing meek about him; nothing arrogant He was a British gentleman' in uniform, uni-form, as unselfconscious as a visitor at the zoo. He recognized Lynn instantly. His expression changed to let her know he recognized her. But he was imperturbable. im-perturbable. Nothing surprised him. The palace chamberlain presented him to the Maharajah and the Maharanee. Ma-haranee. He was gracious to them. The Maharanee introduced him to Lynn. He studied her. He smiled. He said: "How do you do. We have met, I believe. I am very curious. Don't tell me. It might spoil the fun of finding out. Am I to sit next to you at dinner? I was always lucky." Then he walked up and shook hands with Rundhia: "Pleased." "Yes. Nice to meet you." It suggested the well-oiled motion of machine-guns getting ready. They were enemies, at sight, as charmed to meet each other as match and powder barrel. Lynn knew it instantly. in-stantly. Then Aunty arrived. After that, there was nothing to do but to listen to Aunty's distant condescensions. She was wonderful. Even Rundhia admired her spunk. Dressed in a formal evening gown on purpose to make Lynn feel ashamed of herself, her-self, taped and strapped by the doctor doc-tor until she could hardly move, in torture from the twisted ankle, she proposed to dominate that company. compa-ny. She did, until Norwood subdued her. She wasn't used to being snubbed by mere captains. "What do Engineer officers do?" she demanded. "Nothing," he said, "except answer an-swer questions. Why? I might lend you a man who can do things." The Maharajah was interrupted by the arrival of the Bengali doctor, doc-tor, followed by a servant with a big blue goblet on a tray. The Maharajah Mahara-jah swallowed the contents of the goblet in one long draught and Norwood Nor-wood noticed that he became immediately imme-diately more at ease. But Norwood was also watching Rundhia, who left off dancing with Lynn and accompanied ac-companied the Bengali to the door, talking to him low-voiced. Norwood promptly commandeered Lynn. "If I were you," he said, "I'd stick to champagne. The cocktails taste phoney." Lynn wasn't sure she liked him. On the other hand, she wasn't sure she didn't "Why were you rude to Aunty?" "She was rude to me," he answered. an-swered. "She had an accident today, so she isn't herself." "Who is? You, for instance? Princess? Prin-cess? Cinderella on her night out? Or rebel? You know what happens to rebels, don't you, unless their friends are reliable?" A great gong boomed. It was as ancient as the palace. It was the bronze voice of memory. "Picnic!" exclaimed the Maharanee. Mahara-nee. "No formality. Lynn, dear, lead the way. We will all follow." So the Maharajah came last to the servants' horror, and it was Lynn who contrived the seating. Norwood's luck suffered a flat tire. He found himself between the Maharanee Ma-haranee and Aunty. Rundhia and Lynn sat opposite; the Maharajah at one end of the table, the Maharanee Maha-ranee at the other. The Maharajah only pretended to eat. In theory, he had abandoned caste restrictions, but In practice, he lacked the Maharanee's courage. He wilted under Aunty Harding's barrage of remarks. Her vigor depressed de-pressed him. Aunty had no patience with weaklings: "You're a hypochondriac," she told him. The Maharajah sighed. "I am a victim of public duty. Affairs of state impose a sedentary life that has ruined my health. But I have found that Rundhia's physician understands un-derstands my ailment." The physician reappeared in the doorway, nervous, unself-assertive. He came behind Aunty's chair and whispered to her. Norwood couldn't hear what he said, but he saw him lay two pellets on a plate at Aunty's right hand. "Drugs! No thank you!" "What are they?" asked the Maharajah. Ma-harajah. "Exactly the same that your Highness High-ness has been taking for your nerves," said the physician. "I have iron nerves," said Aunty. The physician smiled. He separated sepa-rated the two pellets with a fork and held the plate toward the Maharajah. Ma-harajah. "Set her the example," he suggested. sug-gested. "My monotonous life consists of nothing else than setting good examples," ex-amples," said the Maharajah. "If it won't hurt me, it won't hurt you." He reached for a pellet. Norwood noticed that the doctor moved the plate so that the Maharajah's Maha-rajah's fingers closed on the one that had been nearer Aunty. If it was a trick it was smooth. Rundhia was paying rather witty attention to Lynn; he was making her laugh. "As a compliment, but against my better judgment," said Aunty. She swallowed the other pellet. "Thank you," said the Bengali. "Thank you, madam. That relieves my anxiety. You should not be here. You should be in bed. There is no knowing what people's nerves may do to them when they have suffered suf-fered a bodily shock such as you received re-ceived this afternoon." He bowed himself out Aunty used her napkin suddenly. Norwood watched her. He was just in time to prevent her falling from the chair. Everyone, including the Maharajah, jumped up. Lynn ran to her. The servants formed a scrimmage around Lynn and Aunty. The Maharajah scolded the Maharanee Maha-ranee sotto voce. Rundhia sent a servant running for the doctor. The other servants picked up Aunty and carried her into the next room, where she groaned on a couch and nearly fainted faint-ed from humiliation. Rundhia met the doctor at the door. Norwood, watching them, pretended not to, wasn't certain whether they spoke. The doctor nodded, put on his most judicial professional air, felt Aunty's pulse and shrugged his shoulders. "She has a temperature. It is impossible to say, but I think she is only suffering from nervous exhaustion ex-haustion and perhaps, too, from mental disturbance." He turned again to the Maharanee: "I advise that Miss Lynn Harding should be moved into the palace, so that Mrs. Harding may be quiet." (TO BE CONTINUED) |