King--of the Khyber Rifles: A Romance of Adventure by Talbot Mundy (ereader for textbooks .TXT) 📗

“Yes, yes. I remember. I read your report. You didn't find anything, did you? Well. The story is now that the 'Heart of the Hills' has come to life. So the spies say.”

King whistled softly.

“There's no guessing what it means,” said the general. “Go and find out. Go and work with Yasmini. I shall have enough men here to attack instantly and smash any small force as soon as it begins to gather anywhere near the border. But Khinjan is another story. We can't prove anything, but the spies keep bringing in rumors of ten thousand men in Khinjan Caves, and of another large lashkar not far away from Khinjan. There must be no jihad, King! India is all but defenseless! We can tackle sporadic raids. We can even handle an ordinary raid in force. But this story about a 'Heart of the Hills' coming to life may presage unity of action and a holy war such as the world has not seen. Go up there and stop it if you can. At least, let me know the facts.”

King grunted. To stop a holy war single-handed would be rather like stopping the wind--possibly easy enough, if one knew the way. Yet he knew no general would throw away a man like himself on a useless venture. He began to look happy.

The general clucked to the mare and the big beast sank an inch between the shafts. The sais behind set his feet against the drop-board and clung with both hands to the seat. One wheel ceased to touch the gravel as they whirled along a semicircular drive. Suddenly the mare drew up on her haunches, under the porch of a pretentious residence. Sentries saluted. The sais swung down. In less than sixty seconds King was following the general through a wide entrance into a crowded hall. The instant the general's fat figure darkened the doorway twenty men of higher rank than King, native and English, rose from lined-up chairs and pressed forward.

“Sorry--have to keep you all waiting--busy!” He waved them aside with a little apologetic gesture. “Come in here, King.”

King followed him through a door that slammed tight behind them on rubber jambs.

“Sit down!”

The general unlocked a steel drawer and began to rummage among the papers in it. In a minute he produced a package, bound in rubber bands, with a faded photograph face-upward on the top.

“That's the woman! How d'you like the look of her?”

King took the package and for a minute stared hard at the likeness of a woman whose fame has traveled up and down India, until her witchery has become a proverb. She was dressed as a dancing woman, yet very few dancing women could afford to be dressed as she was.

King's service uses whom it may, and he had met and talked with many dancing women in the course of duty; but as he stared at Yasmini's likeness he did not think he had ever met one who so measured up to rumor. The nautch he knew for a delusion. Yet--!

The general watched his face with eyes that missed nothing.

“Remember--I said work with her!”

King looked up and nodded.

“They say she's three parts Russian,” said the general. “To my own knowledge she speaks Russian like a native, and about twenty other tongues as well, including English. She speaks English as well as you or I. She was the girl-widow of a rascally Hill-rajah. There's a story I've heard, to the effect that Russia arranged her marriage in the day when India was Russia's objective--and that's how long ago?--seems like weeks, not years! I've heard she loved her rajah. And I've heard she didn't! There's another story that she poisoned him. I know she got away with his money--and that's proof enough of brains! Some say she's a she-devil. I think that's an exaggeration, but bear in mind she's dangerous!”

King grinned. A man who trusts Eastern women over readily does not rise far in the Secret Service.

“If you've got nous enough to keep on her soft side and use her--not let her use you--you can keep the 'Hills' quiet and the Khyber safe! If you can contrive that--now--in this pinch--there's no limit for you! Commander-in-chief shall be your job before you're sixty!”

King pocketed the photograph and papers. “I'm well enough content, sir, as things are,” he said quietly.

“Well, remember she's ambitious, even if you're not! I'm not preaching ambition, mind--I'm warning you! Ambition's bad! Study those papers on your way down to Delhi and see that I get them back.”

The general paced once across the room and once back again, with hands behind him. Then he stopped in front of King.

“No man in India has a stiffer task than you have now! It may encourage you to know that I realize that! She's the key to the puzzle, and she happens to be in Delhi. Go to Delhi, then. A jihad launched from the 'Hills' would mean anarchy in the plains. That would entail sending back from France an army that can't be spared. There must be no jihad, King!--There must--not--be--one! Keep that in your head!”

“What arrangements have been made with her, sir?”

“Practically none! She's watching the spies in Delhi, but they're likely to break for the 'Hills' any minute. Then they'll be arrested. When that happens the fate of India may be in your hands and hers! Get out of my way now, until tiffin-time!”

In a way that some men never learn, King proceeded to efface himself entirely among the crowd in the hall, contriving to say nothing of any account to anybody until the great gong boomed and the general led them all in to his long dining table. Yet he did not look furtive or secretive. Nobody noticed him, and he noticed everybody. There is nothing whatever secretive about that.

The fare was plain, and the meal a perfunctory affair. The general and his guests were there for other reason than to eat food, and only the man who happened to seat himself next to King--a major by the name of Hyde--spoke to him at all.

“Why aren't you with your regiment?” he asked.

“Because the general asked me to lunch, sir!”

“I suppose you've been pestering him for an appointment!”

King, with his mouth full of curry did not answer, but his eyes smiled.

“It's astonishing to me,” said the major, “that a captain should leave his company when war has begun! When I was captain I'd have been driven out of the service if I'd asked for leave of absence at such a time!”

King made no comment, but his expression denoted belief.

“Are you bound for the front, sir?” he asked presently. But Hyde did not answer. They finished the meal in silence.

After lunch he was closeted with the general again for twenty minutes. Then one of the general's carriages took him to the station; and it did not appear to trouble him at