Chapter 3

No Tresspass!
 

There’s comfort in the purple creed

Of rosary and hood;

There’s promise in the temple gong,

And hope (deferred) when evensong

Foretells a morrow’s good;

There’s rapture in the royal right

To lay the daily dole

In cash or kind at temple-door,

Since sacrifice must go before

The saving of a soul.

The priests who plot for power now,

Though future glory preach,

Themselves alike the victims fall

Of law that mesmerizes all -

Each subject unto each -

Though all is well if all obey

And all have humble heart,

Nor dare to hold in cursed doubt

Those gems of truth the church lets out;

But where’s the apple-cart,

And where’s the sacred fiction gone,

And who’s to have the blame

When any upstart takes a hand

And, scorning what the priests have planned,

Plays Harry with the game?

 

"Give a woman the last word always; but be sure it is a question,
which you leave unanswered."

He was a beau ideal commissioner. The native newspaper said so
when he first came, having painfully selected the phrase from a "Dictionary
Of Polite English for Public Purposes" edited by a College graduate
at present in the Andamans. True, later it had called him an "overbearing
and insane procrastinator"—"an apostle of absolutism"—and, plum of
all literary gleanings, since it left so much to the imagination of the native
reader,—"laudator temporis acti." But that the was because he had
withdrawn his private subscription prior to suspending the paper sine die
under paragraph so-and-so of the Act for Dealing with Sedition; it could
not be held to cancel the correct first judgment, any more than the
unmeasured early praise had offset later indiscretion. Beau ideal must stand.

It was not his first call at the Blaines’ house, although somehow or other
he never contrived to find Dick Blaine at home. As a bachelor he had
no domestic difficulties to pin him down when office work was over
for the morning, and, being a man of hardly more than forty, of fine
physique, with an astonishing capacity for swift work, he could usual
finish in an hour before breakfast what would have kept the routine rank
and file of orthodox officials perspiring through the day. That was one
reason why he had been sent to Sialpore—men in the higher ranks,
with a pension due them after certain years of service, dislike being hurried.

He was a handsome man—too handsome, some said—with a profile l
ike a medallion of Mark Antony that lost a little of its strength and poise
when he looked straight at you. A commissionership was an apparent
rise in the world; but Sialpore has the name of being a departmental
cul-de-sac, and they had laughed in the clubs about "Irish promotion"
without exactly naming judge O’Mally. (Mrs. O’Mally came from a cathedral
city, where distaste for the conventions is forced at high pressure from
early infancy.)

But there are no such things as political blind alleys to a man who is
a judge of indiscretion, provided he has certain other unusual gifts as
well. Sir Roland Samson, K. C. S. I., was not at all a disappointed man,
nor even a discouraged one.

Most people were at a disadvantage coming up the path through the
Blaines’ front garden. There was a feeling all the way of being looked
down on from the veranda that took ten minutes to recover from in the
subsequent warmth of Western hospitality. But Samson had learned
long ago that appearance was all in his favor, and he reenforced it with
beautiful buff riding-boots that drew attention to firm feet and manly bearing.
It did him good to be looked at, and he felt, as a painstaking gentleman
should, that the sight did spectators no harm.

"All alone?" he asked, feeling sure that Mrs. Blaine was pleased to see
him, and shifting the chair beside her as he sat down in order to see
her face better. "Husband in the hills as usual? I must choose a Sunday
next time and find him in."

Tess smiled. She was used to the remark. He always made it, but
always kept away on Sundays.

"There was a party at my house last night, and every one agreed what
an acquisition you and your husband are to Sialpore. You’re so refreshing—
quite different to what we’re all used to."

"We’re enjoying the novelty too—at least, Dick doesn’t have much time
for enjoyment, but—"

"I suppose he has had vast experience of mining?"

"Oh, he knows his profession, and works hard. He’ll find gold where
there is any," said Tess.

"You never told me how he came to choose Sialpore as prospecting ground."

Tess recognized the prevarication instantly. Almost the first thing Dick
had done after they arrived was to make a full statement of all the
circumstances in the commissioner’s office. However, she was not her
husband. There was no harm in repetition.

"The maharajah’s secretary wrote to a mining college in the States for
the name of some one qualified to explore the old workings in these hills.
They gave my husband’s name among others, and he got in correspondence.
Finally, being free at the time, we came out here for the trip, and the
maharajah offered terms on the spot that we accepted. That is all."

Samson laughed.

"I’m afraid not all. A contract with the British Government would be kept.

I won’t say a written agreement with Gungadhura is worthless, but—"

 

"Oh, he has to pay week by week in advance to cover expenses."

"Very wise. But how about if you find gold?"

"We get a percentage."

Every word of that, as Tess knew, the commissioner could have
ascertained in a minute from his office files. So she was quite as much
on guard as he—quite as alert to discover hidden drifts.

"I’m afraid there’ll be complications," he went on with an air of friendly
frankness. "Perhaps I’d better wait until I can see your husband?"

"If you like, of course. But he and I speak the same language. What
you tell me will reach him—anything you say, just as you say it."

"I’d better be careful then!" he answered, smiling. "Wise wives don’t
always tell their husbands everything."

"I’ve no secrets from mine."

"Unusual!" he smiled. "I might say obsolete! But you Americans with
your reputation for divorce and originality are very old-fashioned in some
things, aren’t you?"

"What did you want me to tell my husband?" countered Tess.

"I wonder if he understands how complicated conditions are here.

For instance, does your contract stipulate where the gold is to be found?"

 

"On the maharajah’s territory."

"Anywhere within those limits?"

"So I understand."

"Is the kind of gold mentioned?"

"How many kinds are there?"

He gained thirty seconds for reflection by lighting a cigar, and decided
to change his ground.

"I know nothing of geology, I’m afraid. I wonder if your husband knows
about the so-called islands? There are patches of British territory,
administered directly by us, within the maharajah’s boundaries; and
little islands of native territory administered by the maharajah’s government
within the British sphere."

"Something like our Indian reservations, I suppose?"

"Not exactly, but the analogy will do. If your husband were to find gold—
of any kind—on one of our ’islands’ within the maharajah’s territory, his
contract with the maharajah would be useless."

"Are the boundaries of the islands clearly marked?"

"Not very. They’re known, of course, and recorded. There’s an old
fort on one of them, garrisoned by a handful of British troops—a constant
source of heart-burn, I believe, to Gungadhura. He can see the top of
the flag-staff from his palace roof; a predecessor of mine had the pole
lengthened, I’m told. On the other hand, there’s a very pretty little palace
over on our side of the river with about a half square mile surrounding
it that pertains to the native State. Your husband could dig there, of course.
There’s no knowing that it might not pay—if he’s looking for more kinds
of gold than one."

Tess contrived not to seem aware that she was being pumped.

"D’you mean that there might be alluvial gold down by the river?" she asked.

"Now, now, Mrs. Blaine!" he laughed. "You Americans are not so
ingenuous as you like to seem! Do you really expect us to believe
that your husband’s purpose isn’t in fact to discover the Sialpore Treasure?"

"I never heard of it."

"I suspect he hasn’t told you."

"I’ll bet with you, if you like," she answered. "Our contract against your
job that I know every single detail of his terms with Gungadhura!"

"Well, well,—of course I believe you, Mrs. Blaine. We’re not overheard
are we?"

Not forgetful of the Princess Yasmini hidden somewhere in the house
behind her, but unsuspicious yet of that young woman’s gift for garnering
facts, Tess stood up to look through the parlor window. She could see
all of the room except the rear part of the window-seat, a little more than
a foot of which was shut out of her view by the depth of the wall. A cat,
for instance, could have lain there tucked among the cushions perfectly invisible.

"None of the servants is in there," she said, and sat down again, nodding
in the direction of a gardener. "There’s the nearest possible eavesdropper."

Samson had made up his mind. This was not an occasion to be actually
indiscreet, but a good chance to pretend to be. He was a judge of those matters.

"There have been eighteen rajahs of Sialpore in direct succession father
to son," he said, swinging a beautiful buff-leather boot into view by
crossing his knee, and looking at her narrowly with the air of a man who
unfolds confidences. "The first man began accumulating treasure.
Every single rajah since has added to it. Each man has confided the
secret to his successor and to none else—father to son, you understand.
When Bubru Singh, the last man, died he had no son. The secret
died with him."

"How does anybody know that there’s a secret then?" demanded Tess.

"Everybody knows it! The money was raised by taxes. Minister after
minister in turn has had to hand over minted gold to the reigning rajah—"

"And look the other way, I suppose, while the rajah hid the stuff!"
suggested Tess.

Samson screwed up his face like a man who has taken medicine.

"There are dozens of ways in a native state of getting rid of men who
know too much."

"Even under British overrule?"

He nodded. "Poison—snakes—assassination—jail on trumped-up charges,
and disease in jail—apparent accidents of all sorts. It doesn’t pay to know
too much."

"Then we’re suspected of hunting for this treasure? Is that the idea?"

"Not at all, since you’ve denied it. I believe you implicitly. But I hope
your husband doesn’t stumble on it."

"Why?"

"Or if he does, that he’ll see his way clear to notify me first."

"Would that be honest?"

He changed his mind. That was a point on which Samson prided himself.

He was not hidebound to one plan as some men are, but could keep

two or three possibilities in mind and follow up whichever suited him.

This was a case for indiscretion after all.

 

"Seeing we’re alone, and that you’re a most exceptional woman, I think
I’ll let you into a diplomatic secret, Mrs. Blaine. Only you mustn’t repeat it.
The present maharajah, Gungadhura, isn’t the saving kind; he’s a spender.
He’d give his eyes to get hold of that treasure. And if he had it, we’d
need an army to suppress him. We made a mistake when Bubru Singh
died; there were two nephews with about equal claims, and we picked
the wrong one—a born intriguer. I’d call him a rascal if he weren’t a
reigning prince. It’s too late now to unseat him—unless, of course, we
should happen to catch him in flagrante delicto."

"What does that mean? With the goods? With the treasure?"

"No, no. In the act of doing something grossly ultra vires—illegal, that’s
to say. But you’ve put your finger on the point. If the treasure should
be found—as it might be—somewhere hidden on that little plot of ground
with a palace on it on our side of the river, our problem would be fairly easy.
There’d be some way of—ah—making sure the fund would be properly
administered. But if Gungadhura found it in the hills, and kept quiet
about it as he doubtless would, he’d have every sedition-monger in
India in his pay within a year, and the consequences might be very serious."

"Who is the other man—the one the British didn’t choose?" asked Tess.

"A very decent chap named Utirupa—quite a sportsman. He was thought
too young at the time the selection was made; but he knew enough to
get out of the reach of the new maharajah immediately. They have a
phrase here, you know, ’to hate like cousins.’ They’re rather remote
cousins, but they hate all the more for that."

"So you’d rather that the treasure stayed buried?"

"Not exactly. But he tossed ash from the end of his cigar to illustrate
offhandedness. "I think I could promise ten per cent. of it to whoever
brought us exact information of its whereabouts before the maharajah
could lay his hands on it."

"I’ll tell that to my husband."

"Do."

"Of course, being in a way in partnership with Gungadhura, he might—"

"Let me give you one word of caution, if I may without offense. We—
our government—wouldn’t recognize the right of—of any one to take that
treasure out of the country. Ten per cent. would be the maximum, and
that only in case of accurate information brought in time to us."

"Aren’t findings keepings? Isn’t possession nine points of the law?"
laughed Tess.

"In certain cases, yes. But not where government knows of the existence
somewhere of a hoard of public funds—an enormous hoard—it must
run into millions."

"Then, if the maharajah should find it would you take it from him?"

"No. We would put the screws on, and force him to administer the
fund properly if we knew about it. But he’d never tell."

"Then how d’you know he hasn’t found the stuff already?"

"Because many of his personal bills aren’t paid, and the political stormy
petrels are not yet heading his way. He’s handicapped by not being
able to hunt for it openly. Some ill-chosen confidant might betray the
find to us. I doubt if he trusts more than one or two people at a time."

"It must be hell to be a maharajah!" Tess burst out after a minute’s silence.

"It’s sometimes hell to be commissioner, Mrs. Blaine."

"If I were Gungadhura I’d find that money or bust! And when I’d found it—"

"You’d endow an orphan asylum, eh?"

"I’d make such trouble for you English that you’d be glad to leave me
in peace for a generation!"

Samson laughed good-naturedly and twisted up the end of his mustache.

"Pon my soul, you’re a surprising woman! So your sympathies are all
with Gungadhura?"

"Not at all. I think he’s a criminal! He buys women, and tortures animals
in an arena, and keeps a troupe of what he is pleased to call dancing-girls.
I’ve seen his eyes in the morning, and I suspect him of most of the
vices in the calendar. He’s despicable. But if I were in his shoes I’d
find that money and make it hot for you English!"

"Are you of Irish extraction, Mrs. Blaine?"

"No, indeed I’m not. I’m Connecticut Yankee, and my husband’s from
the West. I don’t have to be Irish to think for myself, do I?"

Samson did not know whether or not to take her seriously, but recognized
that his chance had gone that morning for the flirtation he had had in view—
very mild, of course, for a beginning; it was his experience that most
things ought to start quite mildly, if you hoped to keep the other man
from stampeding the game. Nevertheless, as a judge of situations,
be preferred not to take his leave at that moment. Give a woman the
last word always, but be sure it is a question, which you leave unanswered.

"You’ve a beautiful garden," he said; and for a minute or two they talked
of flowers, of which he knew more than a little; then of music, of which
he understood a very great deal.

"Have you a proper lease on this house?" he asked at last.

"I believe so. Why?"

"I’ve been told there’s some question about the title. Some one’s bringing
suit against your landlord for possession on some ground or another."

"What of it? Suppose the other should win—could he put us out?"

"I don’t know. That might depend on your present landlord’s power to
make the lease at the time when he made it."

"But we signed the agreement in good faith. Surely, as long as we
pay the rent—?"

"I don’t know, I’m sure. Well—if there’s any trouble, come to me about
it and we’ll see what can be done."

"But who is this who is bringing suit against the landlord?"

"I haven’t heard his name—don’t even know the details. I hope you’ll
come out of it all right. Certainly I’ll help in any way I can. Sometimes
a little influence, you know, exerted in the right way—well—Please give
my regards to your husband—Good morning, Mrs. Blaine."

It was a pet theory of his that few men pay enough attention to their
backs,—not that he preached it; preaching is tantamount to spilling beans,
supposing that the other fellow listens; and if he doesn’t listen it is
waste of breath. But he bore in mind that people behind him had eyes
as well as those in front. Accordingly he made a very dignified exit
down the long path, tipped Mrs. Blaine’s sais all the man had any right
to expect, and rode away feeling that he had made the right impression.
He looked particularly well on horseback.

Theresa Blaine smiled after him, wondering what impression she herself
had made; but she did not have much time to think about it. From the
open window behind her she was seized suddenly, drawn backward
and embraced.

"You are perfect!" Yasmini purred in her ear between kisses. "You are
surely one of the fairies sent to live among mortals for a sin! I shall
love you forever! Now that burra-wallah Samson sahib will ride into the
town, and perhaps also to the law-court, and to other places, to ask about
your landlord, of whom he knows nothing, having only heard a servant’s
tale. But Tom Tripe will have told already that I am at the burra commissioner’s
house, and Gungadhura will send there to ask questions. And whoever
goes will have to wait long. And when the commissioner returns at last
he will deny that I have been there, and the messenger will return to
Gungadhura, who will not believe a word of it, especially as he will know
that the commissioner has been riding about the town on an unknown
errand. So, after he has learned that I am back in my own palace,
Gungadhura will try to poison me again. All of which is as it should be.
Come closer and let me—"

"Child!" Tess protested. "Do you realize that you’re dressed up like an
extremely handsome man, and are kissing me through a window in the
sight of all Sialpore? How much reputation do you suppose I shall have
left within the hour?

"There is only one kind of reputation worth the having," laughed Yasmini;
"that of knowing how to win!"

"But what’s this about poison?" Tess asked her.

"He always tries to poison me. Now he will try more carefully."

"You must take care! How will you prevent him?"

By quite unconscious stages Tess found herself growing concerned
about this young truant princess. One minute she was interested and
amused. The next she was conscious of affection. Now she was
positively anxious about her, to use no stronger word. Nor had she
time to wonder why, for Yasmini’s methods were breathless.

"I shall eat very often at your house. And then you shall take a journey
with me. And after that the great pig Gungadhura shall be very sorry
he was born, and still more sorry that be tried to poison me!"

"Tell me, child, haven’t you a mother?"

"She died a year ago. If there is such a place as hell she has gone
there, of course, because nobody is good enough for Heaven. But I
am not Christian and not Hindu, so hell is not my business."

"What are you, then?"

"I am Yasmini. There is nobody like me. I am all alone, believing only
what I know and laughing at the priests. I know all the laws of caste,
because that is necessary if you are to understand men. And I have
let the priests teach me their religion because it is by religion that they
govern people. And the priests," she laughed, "are much more foolish
than the fools they entice and frighten. But the priests have power.
Gungadhura is fearfully afraid of them. The high priest of the temple
of Jinendra pretends to him that he can discover where the treasure is
hidden, so Gungadhura makes daily offerings and the priest grows
very fat."

"Who taught you such good English?" Tess asked her; for there was
hardly even a trace of foreign accent, nor the least hesitation for a word.

"Father Bernard, a Jesuit. My mother sent for him, and he came every
day, year after year. He had a little chapel in Sialpore where a few of
the very low-caste people used to go to pray and make confessions
to him. That should have given him great power; but the people of
this land never confess completely, as he told me the Europeans do,
preferring to tell lies about one another rather than the truth about themselves.
I refused to be baptized because I was tired of him, and after my mother
died and she was burned with the Hindu ritual, he received orders to
go elsewhere. Now there is another Jesuit, but he only has a little following
among the English, and can not get to see me because I hide behind
the purdah. The purdah is good—if you know how to make use of it
and not be ruled by it."

They were still in the window, Yasmini kneeling on the cushions with her
face in shadow and Tess with her back to the light.

"Ah! Hasamurti comes!" said Yasmini suddenly. "She is my cheti."

(Hand-maiden.)

 

Tess turned swiftly, but all she saw was one of the three beggars down
by the little gate twisting himself a garland out of stolen flowers.

"Now there will be a carriage waiting, and I must leave my horse in your stable."

The beggar held the twisted flowers up to the sun-light to admire his work.

"I must go at once. I shall go to the temple of Jinendra, where the priest,
who is no man’s friend, imagines I am a friend of his. He will promise
me anything if I will tell him what to say to Gungadhura; and I shall tell
him, without believing the promises. One of these days perhaps he
will plot with Gungadhura to have me poisoned, being in agreement
with the commissioner sahib who said to you just now that it is not good
to know too much! But neither is it good to be too late! Lend me a
covering, my sister—see, this is the very thing. I shall leave by the little gate.
Send the gardener on an errand. Are the other servants at the back
of the house? Of course yes, they will be spying to see me leave by
the way I came."

Tess sent the gardener running for a basket to put flowers in, and when
she turned her head again Yasmini had stepped out through the window
shrouded from head to heels in a camel-hair robe such as the Bikanir
Desert men wear at night. The lower part of her face was hooded in it.

Provided you wear a turban you can wear anything else you like in India
without looking incongruous. It is the turban that turns the trick. Even
the spurs on the heels of riding-boots did not look out of place.

"You’ll sweat," laughed Tess. "That camel-hair is hot stuff."

"Does the panther sweat under his pelt? I am stronger than a panther.

Now swiftly! I must go, but I will come soon. You are my friend."

 

She was gone like a shadow without another word, with long swift strides,
not noticing the beggars and not noticed by them as far as any one could tell.
Tess sat down to smoke a cigarette and think the experience over.

She had not done thinking when Dick Blaine returned unexpectedly for
early lunch and showed her a bag-full of coarsely powdered quartz.

"There’s color there," he said jubilantly. "Rather more than merely color!

It’s not time to talk yet, but I think I’ve found a vein that may lead somewhere.

Then won’t Gungadhura gloat?"

 

She told him at great length about Yasmini’s visit, dwelling on every
detail of it, he listening like a man at a play, for Tess had the gift of
clear description.

"Go a journey with her, if you feel like it, Tess," he advised. "You have
a rotten time here alone all day, and I can’t do much to ’liven it. Take
sensible precautions but have a good time anyway you can."

Because Yasmini had monopolized imagination she told him last of
all, at lunch, about the commissioner’s call, rehearsing that, too, detail
by detail, word for word.

"Wants me to find the treasure, does he, and call the game on Gungadhura?
What does he take me for? One of his stool-pigeons? If it’s a question
of percentage, I’d prefer one from the maharajah than from him. If I
ever stumble on it, Gungadhura shall know first go off the bat, and I’ll
see the British Government in hell before I’ll answer questions!"

"They’d never believe Gungadhura hadn’t rewarded you," said Tess.

"What of it?" he demanded. "What do we care what they believe? And
supposing it were true, what then? Just at present I’m in partnership
with Gungadhura."