The Gate of Ringing Sands

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

THE EVENING breeze was blowing, and It was almost dark when Louis Claverdon stepped out of a gharri at a point not far from the Chandni Chowk; and, after a casual look round, plunged into a dark passage, along which he seemed for the moment to be the only pedestrian. Half-way down he halted sharply to listen, but heard nothing; and, after a moment, resumed his way. The passage turned into another, narrow and dark, which ran between high walls blind as a bat's eye, and which, unreached by the breeze of evening, kept the accumulated heat of the day, so that walking down it was like walking between the sides of some huge oven. This alley also was deserted, and, though Claverdon listened carefully, the only sound other than the hum that came from the Chandni Chowk was the echo of his own footfall; and, when he paused, as he did more than once, no sound whatever.

After the last halt, reassured, he began to walk more quickly, but when the passage made an abrupt turn he halted again, and as he did so caught the pad of naked feet coming on behind him. That he was followed he had little doubt, and, since that was altogether undesirable, he considered swiftly how to make sure. There was one way, he decided, and that was to meet the shadower in the gate.

Instantly reversing, his direction, he began to walk back along the blind-walled passage, moving quietly, and yet making sufficient noise to be heard the whole length of those echoing Walls. He had taken no more than half a dozen steps when he stopped suddenly, and as he did so distinctly heard the pad of running feet receding from him.

That he was being shadowed was now beyond question, and he began to consider how he might deal with the shadower. Listening, his ear against the stone wall, he heard the running man halt, and guessed that the trailer meant to return as soon as it was safe to do so. An idea came to him, and he himself began to run, following his original direction.

The noise of his steps filled that narrow way with echoing sound, and when he reached the turn again, swinging round, he marked time quickly, without progressing, to keep, up the volume of sound. Then, halting abruptly, he listened. As he expected, the shadower was following at a run. Crouching low, he waited, a grim smile on his lean face.

The sound of naked feet came nearer, a white-robed figure, ghastly in the dusk, came round the corner, and when it was within a yard of him Claverdon leaped and struck at the same time. Without cry or groan the shadower collapsed on the stones and lay quite still. Paying no heed to the prostrate man, the Englishman hurried forward again.

Two more turns in the tortuous passage brought him to an alley, into which he swung, and at the far end of it he rapped thrice on a door, making a distinct pause between each knock. At the third knock the door opened, and Chutter Ghose's voice addressed him.

"Sahib "

"Yes! Quick! Is Nima-Tashi there?"

"Here, my jewel," the Tibetan himself answered with a chuckle.

"Then come; we must hurry, lest we be followed."

"Ho-o!" Nima laughed to himself. "A man would, think we go to steal the woman."

"Silence, Nima! Walls have ears in a city—"

"Aye, and women have tongues," replied the hill-man in a laughing whisper, but promptly fell silent, as Claverdon began to lead him out of the alley.

They traversed many narrow ways, mostly deserted, crossed two larger arteries of traffic where there were natives in plenty, and presently plunged into a wider way, where tall pretentious houses lifted rickety balconies towards the sky. They followed this without haste until they came to one, which, on the street, seemed window-less, and which had a tall, narrow doorway, dark and forbidding of aspect. Before this Claverdon halted, and as he did so Nima-Tashi asked a question:—

"This is the house of the woman, Narani, my friend?"

"Yes!" answered Claverdon. "I shall give your name and my own."

"So!" the Tibetan answered. "She will see a hill-man even if she denies a sahib who—"

Claverdon's knock cut short the boast, and a moment later the door swung open revealing a chuprassi in a white uniform, with a scarlet sash. The soft light of a swing lamp in the hall fell directly on their faces, and the chuprassi scrutinised them carefully whilst he waited to hear their request.

"Your mistress, we would see her," said Claverdon crisply.

"There are many who would do , that," answered the man loftily; "but not all have the felicity. This door is not for all to pass."

"But It is open to us," answered Claverdon, thrusting a card forward with a gold mohur underneath it. The chuprassi felt the coin without looking at it, then nodded.

"It is open, but it is for my mistress to say if she receives."

"Good! Take the card. Ask her," answered Claverdon, with a hint of command, and, since a street has eyes, as well as ears, stepped into the lamp-lit hall, followed by the Tibetan.

"Close the door. We will wait Narani's pleasure here."

The chuprassi, a little impressed, salaamed, closed the door, and disappeared through a curtained doorway.

The Tibetan's eyes roamed round the carved woodwork of the hall hung with Rawalia curtains, marked a priceless vase on a pedestal with contempt, and rested on the lamp.

"Silver," he ejaculated in a loud whisper. "The chains also. Five hundred rupees did not purchase it."

Claverdon gave no heed to the remark He was watching the curtained doorway, listening intently. From somewhere, overhead, as it seemed to him, came the sound of flutes, arid the air was heavy with the perfume of burning sandalwood. Behind the curtains there were faint sounds of movement; and once a burst of feminine laughter which drew Nima-Tashi from his brigandly contemplation of the lamp and made him stare towards the curtains with rollicking eyes.

"A nest of doves," he whispered. "Heard you the cooing, my friend?"

Claverdon, sure that there were ears for every word spoken by those who waited in that hall, signalled him to be silent; and himself listened intently to the sound of approaching feet. The chuprassi appeared from behind a curtain other than that which hid the door of his departure, and salaamed.

"My mistress will receive you. This way, sahib."

He held the curtain aside, and Claverdon moved towards the doorway thus revealed, followed by his companion. A flight of dark stairs appeared, and as he began to mount them the sound of flutes which he had previously heard grew clearer. The stairs turned, and at the turn were very dark, but not too dark to hide a recess in which, alert and watchful, stood a big, bearded man whom he guessed was one of Narani's guards. The man gave no sign as they passed, but behind him Claverdon caught the Tibetan's hoarse whisper:

"A bar on the door! That man had a tulwar in his hand."

The stairs turned again, and a second man was revealed, the tulwar in his hand openly displayed, his whole aspect fierce and forbidding. Again Nima-Tashi, irrepressible, offered a comment.

"A fool hurrying down these stairs might stop most suddenly. This jewel is well guarded."

There was a third turn in the stairs, with a third watcher there, upon whom fell the soft light from a lamp on the landing above. Claverdon stared at the man closely. His head was bare, his skin the colour of copper, his eyes fierce and wild, his features were hawk-like, and he was bearded like an Afghan, whilst the light flashed on the naked blade in his hand.

"A hill-man," whispered the Tibetan. "Untamed as an eagle. I begin to breathe the mountain air. But, my friend, how shall we leave if those bar the way?... I have my knife but..."

Claverdon made a sign which silenced him, and stepped on a mirrored landing, partly covered with a priceless rug that was camel-borne from Persia. The lamp again was of silver, studded with turquoise, and drew the Tibetan's eyes.

"A lamp of price, my friend. Narani's cage is well gilded. She—"

He broke off as a pair of heavy silken curtains in front of them parted suddenly, revealing a tall serving man clothed in immaculate white with a silken sash of flaming scarlet. He signalled to them to enter, and held aside the curtain for them to pass through. The doorway opened on a short; wide corridor, from the farther end of which, through another curtained doorway, came the music of flutes which Claverdon had heard during the time of waiting downstairs.

As they advanced the man struck a copper gong, and scarcely had the vibrating sound of it begun when the curtains in front opened; a little cloud of sandalwood smoke drifted towards them, and through it, in the frame the curtains made, the two men saw a vision which made Nima-Tashi ejaculate in a hoarse whisper— "A houri from the Prophet's Paradise. I turn Moslem this very night."

The girl, she was no more, who stood bowing between the curtains, was indeed houri-like. Gauzy silks revealed the. beauty of form and limbs, her face was like a flower, her dark eyes danced with laughter, and the hand which beckoned them forward was the smallest that Claverdon had ever seen. As they strode on, she stepped aside, laughed luringly at Claverdon, and made a little moue at the Tibetan which caused the latter to swear under his breath.

Then the flute music burst on them. In a full tide of sound, and as he halted on the farther side of the curtain, through the haze of the scented smoke, Claverdon became aware of many things at once.

The chamber on which they had entered was a large one, with hangings of marvellous richness. A silken punkah filled the place with moving air. A large window with a balcony from which the music came was almost directly opposite him, and over the heads of the women-flautists, in the dark azure of the sky, he saw a great star gleaming. In the middle of the floor half a dozen dancing women were engaged in some slow sinuous and rhythmic movement, gauzy garments floating in the air, anklets jingling, faces and forms alike expressing all the languorous abandon of the ancient Bast.

Nima-Tashi caught his breath with a grunt. "By all the gods of—"

Claverdon did not hear the rest. Beyond the dancers, through the haze, he had caught sight of two other people— the one a woman seated on a rich divan talking to the other, a dark-skinned man dressed in white silk, who lounged by the side of the divan in an attitude that expressed something warmer than mere admiration for the woman on whom his eyes were fixed in utter disregard of the dancing girls.

There were others near them— a couple of gauze-clad girls who from time to time fanned their mistress with jewelled fans; two or three more behind them who, statuesque and immobile, as plainly waited the woman's pleasure; but all Claverdon's attention was for the woman on the divan whom he guessed to be the Narani whom he had come to see.

"Behold Narani," grunted Nima behind him. "A golden wonder!"

The woman on the divan, as Claverdon was quick to own, justified the Tibetan's description. That she was tall he guessed rather than saw, and her figure was of royal mould. Her hair was a cloud of gold, her features classically regular but afire with an intelligence that none of the dancing women had; and her eyes were, as he thought, black as night, eyes that seemed to be staring straight through him, and which if they saw him gave no sign. Her dress had nothing of the gauziness of the dancers or of the houri who had opened the curtains for the visitors. Her only jewellery was a chain of gold that served for girdle about her waist, a pair of diamonds that twinkled in the lobes of her small ears; and a ring of price that shot fire in the soft lamp-light streaming down upon her.

All this Claverdon noted as he stood there waiting till the dance should end, and as he watched he decided that through the faint mist of smoke these dark eyes were evidently apprising him lazily, leisurely, as if time were not; and as if to keep him waiting there part of a studied purpose. Convinced of that deliberate appraisement, he himself turned his eyes to study the woman's companion.

The man was young, lissom as a sapling, keen-faced, hawk-eyed, with a high imperious look; and plainly of the Hills rather than of the Plains. He considered the man carefully. That white silk dress proclaimed him almost certainly of the followers of the prophet, the imperious air bespoke a regal, masterful spirit; the jewel at his throat Indicated that he was not poor. What he was doing here—

Unexpectedly Narani clapped her hands twice, breaking on his thoughts. The flute-players stopped instantly; the dancers faded away into the recesses. of the chamber, leaving, clear the floor space between the divan, and Claverdon. He saw Narani turn and speak to the man at her side, with an indolent wave of her hand indicating the waiting pair. Apparently becoming aware of them for the first time, the man flashed a sharp, resentful glance in their direction, and appeared to make some protest. Narani, however, made a gesture of dismissal, and the man bowed and began to walk towards the outlet near which the waiting pair stood.

Claverdon considered him carefully. Tall, small-hipped, with head well set on the shoulders and carrying himself with native grace, he was a handsome figure of a man. As he drew nearer he stared insolently at Claverdon, and then, with a flash of curiosity at Nima-Tashi.

The latter, standing behind Claverdon, gave a chuckle.

"An eaglet of the Hills, my friend," he whispered. "And an eater of fire."

The description was justified. The man had indeed a high, bold look. The fierceness of the North was in his sharp-cut features; its untameable spirit flashed in his eyes; its pride proclaimed itself in his carriage and bearing. His eyes leaving Nima-Tashi met Claverdon's in challenging glance, and quite suddenly, the latter had an intuition that some odd thing was in the man's mind. Scarcely had the idea come to him when the thing happened.

Two yards away the man paused in his stride; his eyes flashed hatred, and a second later, quite deliberately, he expressed his contempt by spitting on the floor almost at Claverdon's feet.

"By the Holy―" growled Nima-Tashi, but was instantly checked by Claverdon, whose eyes were fixed, not on the man's face, but on the jewel in his turban; for pale against the darker sheen of the silk, there was a jade ornament that, so far as he could see was the exact replica of the one in his own pocket.

A little touch of excitement quickened, his heart-beat as he made the discovery, then his eyes met the flashing dark ones again, and in the three seconds of time before the man passed him he strove to fix the man's face in his memory, and turned to watch him as the swung aside for his egress, for to know a man's back is sometimes almost as helpful for recognition as knowledge of his face.

The man passed on, the curtains swished back in their place, and then he caught the Tibetan's voice speaking in a stage whisper.

"The woman signals us."

At the word he began to move across the open space in the direction of Narani, conscious that she was watching him closely, and doubly conscious of his own surging curiosity. A couple of yards from the divan he halted, bowed, and then met Narani's eyes. Looking at them across the room ne had thought that they were black, but now he saw that they were blue, the darkest blue he had ever seen and of a clouded brightness like flame veiled in smoke. They were, moreover, no open book in which a man might read her thought. They saw without revealing, and not even curiosity was betrayed by them as they passed from him to Nima-Tashi standing behind him.

For a moment the silence was noticeable, broken only by the light swish of the punkah and the plash of a fountain somewhere in the darkness outside; then the woman looked at the card held in the palm of her shapely hand, and spoke:—

"Well, Mr. Claverdon, you wish to talk with me?"

The question was asked quietly, in a clear, bell-like voice, without the faintest hint of curiosity in the tones.

"Yes," answered Claverdon, with laconic directness. Then he glanced at the attendant houris about her. That Narani understood the glance was proved a moment later, for she gave a signal, and instantly the flautists and her personal attendants followed the dancers into obscurity. Then she looked at Claverdon again, and now she permitted a little wondering light to stray into the fathomless eyes.

The Englishman hesitated, a little uncertain of his ground; and she looked from him to Nima-Tashi; and again the golden voice broke the silence.

"Perhaps you, O man of the Hills, have something—?"

"Aye!" boomed the Tibetan, never at a loss for words. "There is a matter of rifles that I took to Termez for a man of thine... They were without breech-bolts, and I came near to being slain for another's fault. Maybe thou wilt give word for the breech-bolts to be sent?"

The woman laughed, and the laugh transformed her.

"Gold mohurs were paid to thee, yak-driver, were they not? What are the missing breech-bolts to thee? Maybe the lack of them has saved thy yaks and their drivers from the hasty bullet."

Her rippling laughter was infectious, and Nima-Tashi's risibility was quick to respond. His rolling laughter, filled the room, drowning the, sound of hers, as he answered mirthfully:

"Aye, as thou sayest, I had the gold mohurs!"

"And Muhammed Khan had the rifles."

"And thou the price of them— and the breech-bolts," laughed the Tibetan. "It was a good division."

"Maybe the bolts will be sent when the time is ripe for the use of the rifles," answered Narani, with careless laughter, and then her eyes, clouded once more, turned to Claverdon, and her beautiful face grew masklike.

"It was not about rifles without bolts you came, Mr. Claverdon?" she asked politely, her words, as Claverdon marked, without any noticeable accent, though he was sure she was not English.

"No!" he answered laconically, "It was about that!"

As he spoke he thrust forward the piece of carved jade which Cavenagh had given him, and had the satisfaction of seeing Narani momentarily moved out of her pose of incurious calm. A startled look came on her face, the lambent eyes glowed, her whole demeanour expressed an intense interest. A second later, the look was gone, the glow had faded, her demeanour was again impassive, and as she looked at Claverdon she appeared the most unmoved woman in the world.

"A jade trinket!" she remarked, indifferently. Then a little mocking note came in her voice.

"I did not know you were a jewel merchant, Mr. Claverdon.... You wish to sell that little ornament?"

Louis Claverdon laughed. That mocking note had told him that Narani knew very well the nature of his vocation, and the knowledge put him more at his ease.

"No, Narani," he answered carelessly. "It is not for sale; but I should like you to expound its meaning."

Again there was a brief glow in the clouded eyes, then she gave a rippling laugh.

"I am no priest to expound, Mr. Claverdon; nor yet a sybil to divine secrets. You have come to the wrong door, I am afraid."

She stretched a hand, pink like a shell, small, and beautiful as a perfect hand may be.

"I may see the trinket? You will trust me with this precious thing?"

There was a hint of mockery in her last words, a challenge in her eyes that told Claverdon that she knew quite well the meaning of the token; and with a laugh he thrust it towards her.

"Of course."

Narani took it, appeared to be absorbed in it for a moment, then looked up, and said carelessly:— "A pretty thing, and delicately carved. A gateway or an entrance to some temple, I fancy."

"Yes,"' answered Claverdon, apparently as carelessly. "For a guess, The Gate of Ringing Sands."

At the words so carelessly spoken a startled light came in Narani's eyes, a look of something like consternation came on her face. She leaned forward on the divan, and there was an almost harsh note in the bell-like voice as she asked quickly,

"The Gate of Ringing Sands? What is that?"