Part 22

I do not think I ever saw a prettier entertainment. The long-eyed lazy-looking young Rajah must have had the blood of past sybarites in his veins, for he had enhanced Oriental splendour with Western refinement to perfection.

Having seen by a glance that all my detectives were in their places, knowing also the infinite precautions which had been secretly taken on all sides, and feeling fairly secure of the young ruler's personal loyalty, I felt I might enjoy myself, and I did. The champagne was iced to perfection, the illuminations glimmered softly away into the gloom of the lake, a band of native musicians, beautifully trained, discoursed plaintive love songs on native instruments deftly entuned to almost Western modulations, the dinner was super-excellent, a combination of Eastern and Western delicacies, and there was not one single hitch in the arrangements, except for a slight _contretemps_, due, apparently, to short-sightedness on the part of my venerable Scapegoat. He collided with the State servant who was handing a special tray of curried _koftahs_ to the Crowned Head, with the result that the Crowned Head did not even get a taste of it. But the accident only raised a moment's laugh. The debris was cleared away in a twinkling, and I caught sight of the offender's scared protesting face as he was hustled away from further mischief.

After dinner we had a really excellent pantomime in dumb show by native actors, so it was past midnight ere I returned to my tent. I found my Chief Inspector, a man I could really trust, a man whose wide experience was of infinite use to me, standing outside.

"A report, Huzoor!" he said briefly, and I passed into the office. He looked all round, carefully closed the screens, and then began in a low voice:

"Huzoor! When your Honour's servant upset the State servant and his dish, I was close by. There was a look on your Honour's servant's face I did not understand. They scrambled instantly for the _koftahs_--scrambled hastily--to pick them up. But I got _one_, Huzoor. I gave it to a dog; and Huzoor! the dog is dead!"

I could scarcely speak. "Dead! ye Gods!" Then I remembered that the dog would be needful evidence, and said at once, "Where is the body? Bring it here."

But, if there had been a conspiracy to poison, the conspirators had been too quick for us. The _corpus delicti_ was not where it had been left. Neither was the Substitute to be found. The other servants reported that, overcome with shame at his unpardonable offence in depriving an Earth-Cherished-One of his victuals, he had retired into the wilderness. Whence he never returned.

My Inspector-General used to bewail the _Petits Timbales de foie gras à la Belle Eugénie_. But I have never ceased to wonder. And every time I go to Delhi I go to the Wonder House and lay a posy on the tombstone of Mahmud, the old Slave of the Court.

The gratitude was to be for ever and ever; so there is time for more yet.

FOOTNOTES

[Footnote 1: Ganêsh is the Indian God of Wisdom. He is always portrayed with the head of an elephant.]

[Footnote 2: Old woman.]

[Footnote 3: Pleasant smell.]

[Footnote 4: Hanooman.]

* * * * * Jas. Truscott & Son, Ltd., London, E.C.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Mercy of the Lord, by Flora Annie Steel