He pondered deeply as he walked; he was imbued with the spirit of tales through the telling of them, and he knew that now he could live in one. He seemed to sink into his thoughts, his golden thoughts, until he was aware that he was unalterably decided that he would live in an imagined tale until he had attained Sashiya, for he could shape his world with his riches. He found himself in the street of those who make all manner of harness, and there he saw a howdah that had been made for a Prince who had died without paying for it. It was superbly magnificent, befitting the most noble elephant.
He enquired the price of various other articles, rejecting them all on the ground of expense; as he walked away he glanced casually at the howdah, saying, ‘This, undoubtedly, is very cheap, seeing that there is no market for such things in these times.’
The merchant’s eye lightened, for he knew all the moves of the game, and perceived that it was the howdah that Hussein desired, so he praised it to the heavens, and, in verity, it was of notable craftsmanship. For three hours they bargained; twice Hussein began to walk away, and twice the merchant pursued him, abating the price. In the end the howdah changed hands for a little over half the opening price. Hussein paid for it straightway, and bought magnificent silk elephant cloths of the kind that the elephants of Maharajahs wear. From the merchants he extracted receipts showing greater sums than he had paid, after the custom of those who buy for Princes; this was to allay suspicion. Then he bade the merchants send him any mahouts whom they knew to be of great merit.
The next morning, after he had fed, washed and watered Jehangir in his old clothes, he changed again into a rich merchant, and interviewed the twenty-four mahouts who had sat before his door since the dawn. He questioned them severally, most pertinently, so that they were beyond all words surprised, and many of them were discovered in manifest falsehood. One, however, an ancient man, delighted Hussein; he was a mahout from his birth, and he was of the properest clay; he had not been able to find employment since the death of his master, by reason of his advanced age, and he starved for the company of elephants. Hussein took him to Jehangir, who approved of him, so he was engaged. The ancient fell on his face and wept with joy.
The next day Hussein became intoxicated with his power, and he bought twenty-three different gramophones, but no needles or records, a very large teapot, and a variety of magnificent shoes with curious toes. But it was a brief spell, and he came to his senses when he sat in his room gazing at the packing cases. He had so often had to look at both sides of an anna that he knew the value of money, and his natural level-headedness made him ashamed of waste.
Among the merchants there was talk of a great necklace of rubies that had vanished from the temple of Kali at Secunderabad. It was rumoured that it had come by devious ways to one Ditmars, a half-caste Frenchman from Pondicherry, a goldsmith.
Hussein went to him, and, having bought two thick broad gold rings for Jehangir’s tusks at a fair price, he spoke about the rumours of the necklace. Ditmars replied vaguely, but Hussein felt something behind his reserve, and as he was going, Ditmars said, ‘If the matter interests your excellence, I know of a man who is said to know the truth of the matter. He usually goes to the house of Miriam the Englishwoman, in the evenings. Probably he will be there this evening.’
He said this with a slight emphasis; Hussein followed the meaning. He went to the house of Miriam that evening; it was kept by an incredibly obese blonde woman, whose name had once been Mary Saunders. Ditmars was there with two non-descript, furtive little men. After a while they all went into an inner room: Hussein was not without suspicions of a trap, but he knew that he could deal with those three men. When the opium pipes were brought he took that which was offered to Ditmars by a subterfuge.
‘It is a curious thing that there should be a tale concerning the disappearance of Kali’s necklace,’ reflected the half-caste, ‘for there is a remarkably similar necklace on the market just now. I am told that it comes from an exalted house that is pressed financially — of course, the name of His Highness, of the house, that is to say, could not be revealed.’
The talk went on and on, drifting over a multitude of subjects, but coming nearer and nearer to the advisability of Princes investing in gems as security. It was fairly well established by Hussein’s cunning in the bazaars that he was the agent of one of the minor princes.
At length the necklace came into the dim light. It was a great rope of seventy-three flawless gems, simply strung with no setting; they were graduated from one the size of a pea to one of the bigness of the body of a mouse that sleeps curled up.
No words could encompass their blazing splendour. For a little Hussein left speech to the others, he could not decry the perfection of the rubies. But he recovered himself, and appeared unimpressed.
‘I had conceived them to be of finer colour, and of greater size and number; however, it has been most interesting to have seen them,’ he said.
These words rather damped the men, but Ditmars forced the talk along, and presently Hussein asked what sort of price was put upon them. He knew that he would have the necklace if it took his whole fortune; he could see it blazing on Sashiya’s honey skin, lighting her whole body, but he intended to fight for it with all his power. They mentioned a great sum, five lakhs of rupees. Hussein did not reply to this at all, but looked at them as if he suspected a jest. They continued until very late, pointing out the excellence of every gem, but of course not even the most tentative bargaining was begun that night.
Twenty-One
On the following day Hussein went to see the manager of his bank, and desired to be directed to an honest lawyer — an English one.
‘An honest lawyer? Well, I know of several rich ones, who are therefore less likely than most to embezzle, and there is a very old firm in Bombay whose probity has never been questioned; but an honest lawyer … Nevertheless, here are the addresses of the two who most nearly approximate to the impossible.’
Hussein thanked him and went to one, to whom he confided the business of his land at Laghat, requesting him to regain it and to settle all legal disputes at any cost and with the greatest possible dispatch. This was a very wise move on his part, for Purun Dass, confronted with an English lawyer, was badly frightened; he was not so foolish as to offer a bribe, but he advanced the questions of sacrilege and incitement to riot. The lawyer instantly opposed him with innumerable precedents of the Government’s singular attitude towards these matters.
Eventually the entirety was settled for little more than five times the amount of the original loan, and the suit which had previously been entered against Hussein was cleared by a fairly stiff fine, which was paid into court by an unnamed man on Hussein’s behalf.
While all this was being arranged Ditmars visited Hussein, and, desiring to speak with him in the utmost privacy, he suggested by the most intangible circumlocution that if the necklace were bought at three and a half lakhs, one-third of the price would be given to Hussein. But Hussein would not see the implication: Ditmars advanced the suggestion in the form of an interesting experience at which he had assisted as go between, so he departed, believing Hussein to be unsatisfied with the amount of the bribe that he had offered.
By day and by night Hussein dreamed of the rubies; he meditated various ways of obtaining them by guile, and he wished that Ram Narain were with him.
Negotiations proceeded, however, on only a moderately dishonest basis, and on a day Ditmars and Hussein travelled to Madras, where an expert on gems gave his opinion on the rubies. In this course Hussein exercised the greatest precautions to avoid the bribing of the expert, to Ditmars’ great discontent. After the expert had examined the stones, Hussein bade him seal them up in a packet, to guard against substitution, not, as he explained, that he was in any way suspicious of Ditmars’ good faith, nor had he any fixed intention of buying them, but it was a wise thing to do as a general measure in case of unforeseen circumstance. Ditmars assented rather acidly; he saw fairly plainly that Hussein
would buy, but at the lowest possible price, so he comforted himself somewhat.
Then Hussein took the expert aside to learn his unbiased opinion, in an inner office.
‘The stones are all genuine,’ he said, ‘and as a collection they are very much more valuable than they would be singly, on account of their perfect graduation. If they are Kali’s necklace, and I feel that forty-seven of the stones might be, although I could not swear to it, then they have been re-cut, and three of them not too well re-cut, which detracts from their value; the great pendant stone is certainly not from Kali’s necklace, though; it bears a certain resemblance to a stone that was sold thirty-odd years ago to the Thakur of the Deccan’ — it came to Hussein in a flash of memory that the Rajah of Kappilavatthu had taken a daughter of the Thakur to wife; Mirza Shah, if he had taken the stone, must have sold it quickly. ‘A fair valuation of them in the open market at present would be one hundred and forty-three thousand rupees, roughly one and a half lakhs. Perhaps you intend to purchase them?’
‘If I can name my price.’
‘Then — quite confidentially, you understand — I should advise you to let me re-examine them immediately after their delivery: accidents frequently happen in this trade.’
‘Without doubt I shall do that, although I doubt whether I shall buy them,’ Hussein added in a louder tone, for he heard a slight movement at the door.
The bargaining continued day after day: when a considerable pause was politic, Hussein went to Laghat, whither he brought royal presents for Hurri Singh, who wept upon his neck. Purun Dass welcomed him with incredible unction as he rode in, seated in magnificence upon Jehangir, whose tusks burned with silver and gold.
Upon his land he bade to be built a house with great dispatch; by no means a fantastic house, but a sober and excellent one. He commissioned the Sikh, whose probity he knew, to oversee the construction of it, so that he might not be more cheated than necessary. He likewise caused notable craftsmen to assemble from all about; painters, carvers in wood and stone, and men greatly skilled in the juxtaposition of coloured stones upon the floor, for that his house might be of the greater excellence, although it would be moderate in size.
Now until the time that Hussein had gained his wealth he had written to Sashiya always at intervals of five days or so, frequently more often, through the medium of the old letter-writer, Abd’Arahman, but since he had reached Patalipore he had only sent a brief note, sending his heart in few words, and omitting all mention of the gold. This was part of his plan to live in his own tale.
He returned to Patalipore, and found Ditmars most agitated by his absence. The dealing went on steadily; in a little while Hussein knew that he could name a price, and then they could work up and down between the two figures.
He engaged three servants for his greater glory. Two of them were old soldiers, most proper men, and the third was a pleasant youth, versed in letters, and apt in affairs of money.
In order to press Hussein, Ditmars produced another man, who also negotiated for the rubies. At first this troubled him, but by watching the man closely, and by weighing his words, he perceived the stratagem, and he abruptly named a price, saying that he had to leave Patalipore that day.
He sent this message to Ditmars, who came at once to see him, expostulating about the meagre sum. He said that the other man had already offered a greater sum.
‘Then let him have the necklace,’ replied Hussein with perfect equanimity; ‘there are other rubies in the world.’
As he said this his heart beat most violently, for he could not be certain that the other man was not genuine.
‘Oh well, it is a pity, for I would rather you had it, being a lover of gems after my own heart.’
They dropped the subject, and drank coffee. Neither could tell for certain to what extent the other was sincere: it was most tormenting, but they kept up a perfect show of indifference. It was Ditmars who broke first.
‘Perhaps even now we may come to some arrangement,’ he said. ‘I am not altogether satisfied with the honesty of the other agent. Now suppose two lakhs were to be paid for it, and out of my small share of the profit I were to allocate, let us say, perhaps 10,000 rupees to various charities of such a nature that you would be the most suitable person for the actual distribution of it …’
Hussein knew then that he had gained his will; they both knew it, but of course they could come to no definite agreement until late that night. When at last it had come to the actual naming of the final price, Hussein caused a contract to be drawn up describing all the things to be done and not to be done with the utmost nicety, and he obliged Ditmars to put to it his signature and his seal. He also sent a hasty message, by means of the telegraph, desiring the expert to come instantly. It was arranged that the deal should be completed the following evening.
Waiting for that time to come, he went forth in splendour upon Jehangir. The day seemed very long indeed to him; he wanted so very much to go straight to Sashiya, but his desire to pursue his tale was stronger. He longed to pay the money for the rubies, and have them at once, but his caution was greater. He had lived a very long while in a year or so.
After an extraordinarily long time had passed the evening came, and with it the jeweller from Madras. They met Ditmars at the appointed place, where they consumed an interminable meal. Then at last Hussein had the rubies in his hands; they were warm, because Ditmars had carried them about him for safety. The expert examined them, and passed them; he left, and Hussein paid the agreed sum. Ditmars gave him a receipt, and returned to him the agreed bribe.
They parted with many expressions of good will and respect, Ditmars leaving also a most artificially wrought gold betel-nut box as a present, for they had each conceived an admiration for the other’s ability; it had been a notable and a satisfying bargaining.
Almost the whole night Hussein held them in his hands, savouring their perfection. He awoke to gaze at them in the new sun; they had in their splendour a hypnotic effect.
Then he went away to Laghat, wearing them beneath his clothes, feeling their weight and hardness. The house was taking shape rapidly, but there was great dissension among the craftsmen, who had fallen out upon various points of technique. Hussein pacified them with threats and with presents, and brought a horde of workmen to hasten the building; he also bade thither men to lay out gardens with all manner of flowering trees and plants. He worked himself, and made his attendants do likewise, to their immeasurable distaste; Jehangir lifted great blocks of stone, and hauled vast baulks of timber.
Hussein worked his men as they had never been worked before in their whole lives, but he paid them large wages, and admired their work, so they were content. He had built a notable place for Jehangir, of such a kind that he would have all that an elephant desires; this he did with the collaboration of his old mahout, who had a great store of knowledge.
At length it was done. The gardeners, by devious arts, had the peach trees flowering out of their season, and all their province seemed to have been established for many years.
In the courtyard — the whole house was surrounded by a high thick wall, and it lay about an internal square courtyard — there was a noble fountain. There were fair carpets on the walls, and the windows were closed by shutters of the most involute carving. On the floor of the house one might follow with a dagger’s point the intricate weaving of the mosaics in divers strange stones; these were most excellent.
Then, on a day, Hussein gave all the men a feast, and he sat among them with a wreath about his neck after they could eat no more, telling them tales until the dawn broke green. When they had all gone, calling peace and happiness upon the house, he sat with the youth skilled in figures, and cast his accounts: he found that with the rubies, his land — he had bought a good deal about his house — the house itself, and all his other purchases, he had spent rather less than a third of his wealth, and that with the rest he could live in great ease and comfort for all his days, and then leave a rich fortune.
This contented Hussein so much that he decided to build a mosque.
After sleeping a little space, he dressed himself in his finest clothes, with the rubies about his neck and a considerable amount of money in his belt. He made Jehangir resplendent, and set out for Haiderabad. He travelled in very great haste, being in a state of exaltation, not unmixed with apprehension, for he knew that he was risking a great deal in following his tale so strictly, yet he had made an iron resolution in this matter.
He came to Haiderabad, and rode magnificently through the streets; this was very sweet. He did not fear the Pathans, his enemies, for he knew that they would never dream of looking for him in a Prince’s howdah. He stayed in the finest place that there was in the city, and retired to a private room. There he undid a bundle that he had brought with him, and stripped himself. In the bundle were his old clothes, and some dust and ashes. These he put on, and sullied himself, that he might lose all appearance of wealth. He secured the rubies in his dhoti, and went to Jehangir; the old mahout gaped at him with open mouth for a little, but Hussein did not regard him; he bade him be at a certain place within a certain hour with Jehangir as beautiful as he might be. He also called his servants, and told them that it was his design to walk about in this guise upon certain errands, and that he feared the intentions of evilly disposed men and told them to follow him in a discreet manner to protect him.
‘On my head and heart,’ replied all the men, and Hussein went out into the bazaars. He came to the Vishnavi bazaar, and perceived the ancient letter-writer sitting in his accustomed place. He seemed a little older, but otherwise the whole bazaar was unchanged. Coming to the old man he salaamed, and greeted him. Abd’Arahman exclaimed aloud, and wept an old man’s tears, but when their greetings were done, and Hussein had taken him to drink coffee, he expostulated with him on account of the danger that he incurred in being in Haiderabad.
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