CHAPTER XXXII.
If we had followed Mr. Rayner to the High Court on the morning of theday when his wife waited for him in vain in the verandah at Clive'sRoad, his failure to return home might have been explained. Yet, when itis told that it was only the sudden sight of a face which had scared himand upset all his plans, and that, the familiar face of Zynool Sahib,some further explanation of the circumstances seems needful.
For this we have to go back to his last meeting with the Mahomedan atWaller's Stables, when Zynool had handed him a cheque for a furtherloan, having taken over the mail-phaeton as part payment of the previoustransaction. In his haste, for he was anxious to catch the train forPuranapore, Zynool had given Mr. Rayner the signed cheque still attachedto the cover of his cheque-book, believing it to be the last in thebook, and being careless as to retaining the counter-foils. Not tillZynool had gone did Alfred Rayner observe that there was still an unusedcheque in the book. Smiling at his client's carelessness, he placed thesigned cheque in his pocket-book, and thrust the pink cover with theremaining one into the pocket of his jacket, meaning to hand it toZynool with some chaffing remark when next they met.
Zynool's loan was much needed and was quickly spent. The absence of thehitherto unfailing allowance from Truelove Brothers was making itselffelt. His financial outlook seemed at his darkest when, one morning, hecame on something in the pocket of his coat which suggested a solutionof his pressing difficulties. It was the crumpled remains of the pinkcover with the blank cheque still affixed to it which he had fully meantto restore to its owner. But a good many hours had struck in AlfredRayner's moral life since then, and each had been dragging him steadilydownward. His determined repudiation of his father, his unbridled furyat the thought of having any connection with Eurasians, the lies andsubterfuges which a false position entails, all had undermined acharacter which had never been sterling. When, therefore, as hisfortunes were at their lowest, he came upon the blank cheque itpresented an overmastering temptation. He quickly formed the plan ofusing it, saying to himself that, of course, he would replace the moneypresently, and encouraging himself with the knowledge that Zynool,though shrewd, had no business habits, and it might be long before hediscovered the little transaction--theft, he would not call it, for hemight be able to replace every pie in a few days. Having decided that hemight with impunity risk the fraud, it was quite easy for him to forgehis client's familiar signature, his sprawling handwriting lendingitself with facility to the deception, nor would there be any difficultyin his cashing the cheque; it being well known at the bank that he wasZynool's man of business and had frequent money transactions with him.In fact, the deed was done with such ease that a more sensitive manmight have been startled at the ready complicity of fate in his crime.He walked jauntily out of the Bank after having counted his notes andexchanged a few pleasant words with the cashier. Then he resolved thatthis new "loan," as he preferred to call it, should be devoted tocarrying his wife from the hot plains to a hill sanatorium, and hadeagerly hurried home to divulge his plans.
Nemesis, however, began to dog his steps with appalling swiftness. Thevery next afternoon at the High Court, when he was engaged in conductinga case on the success of which he was eagerly reckoning, it came withrapid strides. Adorned with his wig and gown, he was holding forth,unusually pungent and successful in his arguments, when who should hesee standing by the door watching him with a sardonic smile but ZynoolSahib! The beady eyes flashed fire, and the amber face had the look of abeast of prey. From the moment that Alfred Rayner's eye lighted on theman whom he had wronged, he had not a shadow of doubt that the Mahomedanwas aware of the fraud so lightly perpetrated on him; and he knew alsothat he could expect no mercy at his hands. There was a malignanttriumph in Zynool's eyes which told that he had trapped his victim."Trapped"--the word echoed in the barrister's head as he made a violenteffort to continue his speech; but he, who had been so glib in hisarguments a moment before, now stammered and looked so faint that eventhe Judge did not fail to notice his threatening collapse, and more thanone pair of eyes were fixed on him with a questioning stare. Nor did thetorture of his spirit lessen when he observed that a Mussulman attendanthad crept up to Zynool and whispered something which caused theMahomedan to leave the court-room quickly.
"There's a warrant waiting for me outside," he groaned inwardly.
When the Court broke up Rayner quite expected to find his declared foewaiting at the door, surrounded by emissaries of the law, but he wasnowhere to be seen. Presently, however, he was approached by a peon fromthe Bank, who politely handed him a letter from the manager.
"Ha, the fat's in the fire, sure enough! I'm as good as hauled off toprison," he muttered. Then an inspiration seized him. Glancing at thephlegmatic peon he told him to wait for his reply. He went in search ofthe Mahomedan official whom he had observed talking to Zynool before heleft the Court. The man being of a lower rank, Rayner decided thatZynool would probably have made no communication to him concerning theforgery.
"Is Zynool still in town?" he asked.
"He is not," was the reply. "He intended to remain in town, for he saidhe had important business, but his son-in-law came with news--vereegrave news from Puranapore."
There was a threatening of a riot in Puranapore, it seemed, and it wasfeared that Zynool's house might be attacked, so he had hastened back bythe earliest train.
"Just as I supposed," said Rayner to himself, having recognised theyouth who brought the news, and thought it must be some urgent message."So the fat's in the fire there too! Well, it's an ill wind that blowsno one good," he muttered, going into the writing-room where he sethimself to write to the manager of the Bank, acknowledging his letterand explaining that he was detained by important legal business tillafter the closing hour of the Bank, but that he would call early nextmorning, and added:
"... If your note refers to the misunderstanding about my friend ZynoolSahib's cheque, I have just seen him and it is completely cleared up. Ineed hardly say it was his own blunder."
Handing his letter to the waiting peon with an easy air, he turned awaywith a very different expression on his face. After standing hesitatingfor a moment what his next move should be, he hurried out at a side-doorwhich opened on a back street. He saw a little country carriage, like abox on wheels, which the natives call a _jatka_, standing near. Hailingit, he jumped in with alacrity, telling the driver to go out the MountRoad. He found no difficulty in concealing himself in the windowlesslittle box, though he cowered in a corner with a throbbing heart as thepony ambled along. He was indifferent as to where he went, but on hemust go till darkness should throw its concealing mantle over him. Atlength he reached the Thousand Lights Bazaar, and calling on thejatka-wallah to stop, he alighted and paid his fare. After wanderingabout among the stalls he explained to a bazaar-vendor in Tamil, whichhe spoke with ease, that he wished to purchase a turban. Buying thenumber of yards of muslin which the merchant assured him wereindispensable, he asked that it should be twisted into shape. Therequest seemed to astonish the dealer not a little, that process beinggenerally accomplished by the customer himself on his head. However,with a good-natured laugh he deftly adjusted the folds and handed it tohim. After paying for his purchase and the additional sum demanded forthe making up of the headpiece, Rayner hurried away, walking rapidly ontill he came to a patch of jungle which skirted the road. Plunging intoit, he caught sight of a small tank in its centre which reflected theyellow moon. He dropped his sun-topee into the water, watching theripples that appeared on the smooth surface as it sank, for he hadattached a stone to it.
"Probably a needless precaution," he muttered, "but one can't be toocareful."
He adjusted the turban on his head, and divesting himself of his coat,he turned it inside out, its lining being of a pale-coloured silk.
"In the dark I'll pass for some nondescript, at least. Nobody willrecognise the smart 'La'yer Rayner' in this guise," he said with a grimsmile, as he caught his reflection in the moon-silvered water. "Bo
therthis bright moonlight, but for it I might have no fear of recognition!"
Prudence seemed to dictate that he should remain for a time concealed inthe jungle plot. At length, after consulting his watch under the clearlight of the moon, he decided that it was safe to emerge and make hisway townwards. Consecutive thought was in abeyance, but his one idea wassomehow to reach his wife and throw himself on her mercy in hisdesperate plight; for he was well aware he had only retarded hispossible capture by some hours. An unpleasant surprise in the shape of awaiting police-official might even be in store for him when he reachedClive's Road, but he thought he could reckon himself safe till nextmorning, only he would take careful observation before he trustedhimself within the precincts of his own compound, and would not venturenear till the night was well advanced.
Steadily he trod townwards, his footfalls echoing on the empty road.There was no need to divest himself of his boots and walk in his silksocks as he had thought of doing, there being not a single soul to takenote of him.
When he reached the streets he congratulated himself there would only beloafers and waifs about, who would take no account of such a hybrid ashe looked in his motley dress.
He did not follow a direct route to Clive's Road, but thinking he hadmade sure that his direction was towards it, he was surprised to findthat he had, all unwittingly, stumbled into Vepery. Never had he setfoot in that quarter since his return to Madras. He glanced at thesilent rows of shabby houses, with feeble lights still flickering fromsome of their windows in spite of the lateness of the hour. As he passeda corner house which was in darkness, he saw a figure leaning againstone of the chunam posts where a gate should have swung. It had so latelyreceived a fresh coat of white that the female figure stood out inrelief. Rayner glanced towards the woman involuntarily and started. Thegirl also gave a start. In spite of his disguise, Leila Baltus had nodifficulty in recognising him. A quick hope seized her, "Alfred'srepented! He's come here in that comic make-up to make it up with hisold love! Alf, I'm here--waiting for you," she said in a loud whisper.
"Here's a pretty mess--of all people to stumble on _her_!" he mutteredto himself, quickening his steps.
But Leila Baltus would not allow him to escape. Running after him, shelaid her hand on his arm.
"Don't be shy, Alf! You know you've come to kiss and be friends! La, butwhatt a guy you do look!" she exclaimed with a giggle, getting in frontof him. "I say, did _she_ turn you out like thatt after hearin' the newsfrom Aunt Tilly and me this veree afternoon thatt your pa was ahalf-caste? I swore I'd be even with her and I've got my wish. Ha, ha!"And she danced in front of him, obstructing his efforts to pass her.
"You fiend! What are you saying?" cried Rayner in a desperate voice."You didn't dare to do that! Get out of my way, I'm in no mind for yourjokes!"
"Ho, ho, thatt's how it is--your fine wife's done with you, and yet youwon't be in with me! Come, Alf," she said in a persuasive tone. "I'llget you a nice prawn curry for the sake of old times, late though it is.What a good thing I was taking a gasp of air past midnight!"
"Out of my way, girl! Do you wish to drive me mad?" cried Rayner, as heforcibly detached the girl's hand from his arm and pushed her againstthe wall, while he took to his heels and ran till at length, hearing nofootsteps behind him, he concluded that he had got rid of his tormentor,and slackened his pace.
"I wonder if the spiteful minx did really go and pour out her venom onHester? Well, I feared it might come, and now that everything istumbling about my ears it doesn't much matter. There's no future for usin Madras, that's clear, but I've sharp wits, I'll make a living athome--and the Bellairs have influence. Hester will never forsake me," hemurmured with an encouraged air. "We'll set sail at once for England."
He was now passing a riotous haunt, which even at this hour echoed withboisterous voices and laughter, and flaring lights streamed from theverandah where loungers drank and smoked, but he turned away his eyesin disgust and sped on his way. As he walked along one of the moresecluded roads of Vepery, his eye lighted on a white gate onwhich was written, in letters that he could trace in the clearmoonlight--Freyville.
"Why, that's the name of _his_ house," he muttered, staring withfascinated eyes on the abode of his father. "Strange that I should havestumbled on it to-night of all nights!"
It had a placid, winning air; two of the wide windows which gave on theverandah stood open and a light burned within. He could see a grey headbending over a big book which lay on a table.
For a brief moment a sudden impulse came to the fugitive in hisdesperate plight. Should he walk in and present himself to the old man?A swift intuition whispered that even after all that had come and gone ahand would be held out at the eleventh hour to save him. The threateninghoofs of the Australians, the insulting words spoken in his verandah,and the repudiation at the beach--all would be blotted out by that oneword "father"; ay, and more, the means to extricate him from the pitwhich he had digged for himself and into which he had fallen, would mostsurely be forthcoming. Even now it was not too late to compromise withZynool and the Bank. The man seated there could doubtless do it for him.Would he say that needful word, he asked himself, as he laid his hand onthe latch of the white gate. Just at that moment, the silent reader inthe silent room raised his head. The searching eyes looked out as ifstirred by some consciousness that something untoward was afoot.
"No, I shan't play the returned prodigal--not in my line," mutteredRayner, suddenly dropping the latch. "I'll rather cut the wholeconcern--work my way to Karrachi, arrange to meet Hester when safer,hurry home to England, and turn over a new leaf there."
Striding rapidly on his way, he never halted till he reached theprecincts of Clive's Road, where he began to tread more cautiously. Heremoved his boots, pulled his turban down over his eyes, and kept closeto the hedge which skirted the compound, starting even at his ownshadow, and listening intently to every sound that broke the silence ofthe Indian night.
A Bottle in the Smoke: A Tale of Anglo-Indian Life Page 32