"I shall always take the same interest in your welfare that I do in that of my son," said Babu Govind Sen, with a sob in his voice.
Madhavan then entered the railway carriage, and Govind Sen, having written down in his note book Madhavan’s address both in Madras and in Malabar, presented him with his photograph. The train then started, and Govind Sen returned sadly home.
Madhavan had taken a ticket for the place where Gopinath Bannerjee lived, because, having given his word, he could not leave the country without going to see him. Buried in his own thoughts, he did not notice anything of what was passing around him until the train drew up at a large station, sixty miles from Gopinath Bannerjee’s residence. After getting some refreshment, Madhavan resumed his journey, and at the next station, a young and good-looking man opened the door of the carriage, and asked if there was any objection to his taking a seat in it. He spoke in English and looked at Madhavan as he put the question, Apparently none of the other passengers knew English, because they made no reply ,and on Madhavan saying that there was no objection, the stranger entered the compartment and sat down beside him. The new comer being well favoured and well dressed, possessed a handsome exterior, and seemed from his appearance to be a Mahomedan. His hair, which was cut straight, fell nearly to his shoulders, and he had luxuriant moustaches and whiskers. In colour his complexion was light golden, and altogether his face was very pleasing to the eye.
A cap, heavily embroidered with gold and silver thread, was on his head and set off his black hair and moustaches and fair skin to great advantage. His coat was a glossy white velvet, reaching below his knees, and laced and ribbed with gold from the neck to the waist, and he wore trousers of rich green silk, and brilliantly polished boots, while a resplendent watch-chain of gold hung across his breast. As soon as he had taken his seat, Madhavan perceived a strong aroma of lavender water or other scent, and immediately afterwards, the elegant young stranger, pulling a gold cigar case out of his pocket, opened it, took out a cigar, and offered the case to Madhavan. On Madhavan politely declining the offer in the English manner and saying that he did not smoke, the stranger asked if he objected to smoking. Madhavan courteously replied that he did not object in the least, and the stranger forthwith lit his cigar. After a while he addressed Madhavan and said, "Where have you come from, sir? and where are you going? It seems to me that you are a stranger in these parts."
"I have just come from Calcutta," answered Madhavan, "and am on my way to visit a friend. I belong to Malabar in the Madras Presidency, and have come to see Northern India. I am very glad, indeed, to have this opportunity of making your acquaintance."
"So am I," responded the handsome man. "Have you no friend or attendant with you, or are you alone?"
"There is no one travelling with me; I am alone," said Madhavan.
"I see; well, I am a Subordinate Judge at Allahabad, and am going to my own part of the country to see my father, who is a great merchant. He doesn’t like my being in the public service, but I am very keen on it myself. I have engaged a first-class compartment, and my wife and two children are in it, but I get tired of sitting there and walk about the platform at every station. I find these long railway journeys a great bore, and when I saw you I felt very much inclined for a chat. I was certain from your face that you knew English, and now I am quite happy. My name is Shere Ali Khan. You’re a B.A. I take it I"
"Yes," said Madhavan.
"I’ll take another shot and say you’re a B. L. too, aren’t you?"
"Yes," replied Madhavan, laughing.
"I’m a graduate, too," said Shere Ali Khan. "How long do you mean to stay with your friends?"
"One day."
"Well, if you are not in any particular hurry, let us both go to my place together. You’re just travelling about, you know, and it doesn’t make much odds which part of the country you see first. Come and stay a week with me, and see all that is to be seen round about us, and then you can go any where else you like."
"Thanks, but I’m engaged to meet a friend, as I told you," said Madhavan, "and must go to his house first:".
"I thought you didn’t know anyone about here. Who is your friend?"
"Gopinath Bannerjee. I happened to meet him in Calcutta, and he gave me an invitation when he left. So I am going to him now."
"Oh, Mr. Gopinath Bannerjee is a great friend of mine and my father’s," said Shere Ali Khan. "But I haven’t seen him for some time. He is a very fine fellow, a great merchant. I’m delighted to find that he is a friend of yours, and I’ll ask you to take a letter to him for me. I’ll ask him to come and stay with us too. It will be charming if you both come together to our place. I’ve got four months’ leave, and. shall be delighted if you come whenever it suits you in that time."
"I accept with pleasure," said Madhavan, and while they were talking, the train reached another important station which was crowded beyond description. By this time it was evening, and the platform was a confused mass of passengers and luggage, all voices being drowned in the general uproar. As soon as the train stopped, the Sub-Judge, Shere Ali Khan, sprang out, taking Madhavan by the hand, and shouted "Peon, peon." A powerful, bearded Pathan, arrayed in a long coat and turban and cross belt, jumped out of a neighbouring carriage and saying, "Sahib," with an air of profound submissiveness, approached his Honour the Sub-Judge.
"Here, get into this carriage and look after this gentleman’s things carefully while we go to the refreshment room," said Shere Ali Khan.
"Yes, Sahib," answered the peon, getting into Madhavan’s carriage and mounting guard over his property.
His Honour the Sub-Judge, leading Madhavan by the hand and cracking jokes as he went, entered the refreshment room.
"Well, what shall we have?" he asked.
"Anything you like," replied Madhavan.
"Have you any scruples about meat and wine?" said Shere Ali Khan.
"No, none," said Madhavan.
"Boy! Boy!" then shouted Shere Ali Khan, and a waiter came running up, bawling "Essar." "Here, bring some mutton chops and bread and cheese and sherry," said Shere Ali Khan.
"Essar," said the waiter, bustling off to execute the order.
The Sub-Judge and Madhavan sat down to table, and the former suddenly jumped up again. "Oh, I forgot," he said, "I’ll go and bring my son. He’s with his mother in the first-class carriage, and was crying his little heart out to come with me when I got out. He won’t eat anything unless he is with me. I’ll back in a minute," and looking at his watch remarked that the train would not start for fourteen minutes. With that he hurried out, leaving Madhavan quite pleased with the idea of having the child brought in. Madhavan sat still, and the refreshment room butler began to bring the dinner which had been ordered. Madhavan waited for the Sub-Judge and five minutes passed, then six, seven, eight, nine, ten minutes, and Madhavan rose, thinking something must have happened to his friend. The butler who was standing beside him said. "Only four minutes left, sir, and everything is getting cold."
"But where’s the other gentleman?" asked Madhavan hastily leaving the room, and going to the part of the train where the first-carriages were attached. He shouted "Mr. Sub-Judge Shere Ali Khan, Sub-Judge Shere Ali Khan", but there was no response. A sudden panic seized him, and he rushed to his own carriage only to find that everything he had left in it had disappeared. The peon, too, as well as the Sub-Judge, had vanished, and some of his fellow-passengers, though they could not speak English, made him understand by signs that the stalwart peon had removed his property. On learning this, Madhavan rushed like a madman wildly up and down the platform, hardly knowing why he did so, or whether he was going, and the train steamed out of the station.
It is impossible for me to give my readers any adequate or accurate idea of Madhavan’s grief and distress. He had lost everything he possessed, except the clothes in which he stood, a small handkerchief, some two rupees and odd in cash, a revolver and a common watch which he always carried, and among the most valuable a
rticles which had been stolen were the gold watch and chain, the ivory desk and the silken suit given to him by Babu Govind Sen. Alas! poor Madhavan! He stood thunderstruck on the platform. The train was gone, and the Sub-Judge of Allahabad had taken his goods. In. reality, the man who had, under the fictitious name of Shere Ali Khan, stripped him of his property was none other than a noted thief. He and his confederates had noticed Madhavan in the afternoon at the station where the latter had stepped out of the train for some refreshment, and perceived that he was a stranger. Thereupon two of the gang had assumed the disguise already mentioned, and, imposing on Madhavan’s ready credulity, had taken his belongings out of the carriage and absconded.
At last Madhavan, praying to heaven for help, hastened to the station master’s room.
"Just look here, station master," he said, "all my things have been stolen. I am a foreigner here, do for pity’s sake help me."
"Go and tell the police," replied the station master.
"There’s not a policeman to be seen," said Madhavan.
"I can’t help that," was the answer.
"But I tell you, I’m a stranger here."
"I can’t help that either."
"I don’t know anyone here."
"Nor can I help that," repeated the station Master.
"If you won’t give me any help, what on earth am I to do?" asked Madhavan.
"Go and tell the police," said the station master. "Here porter, go and find a policeman for this man. If you can’t find one here, show him the police station."
There was no policeman on the platform, and the police station was shut up. Of course the place where the theft was committed was beyond the limits of British India, and the police in question were not our British Indian police.
Meanwhile, the refreshment room butler had followed everywhere close on Madhavan’s heels, dunning him for a rupee and-a-half in payment of the dinner which had been prepared. He might eat it or not as he pleased, but he must pay.
"I never ordered the things," said Madhavan. "It was that robber who ordered them, don’t you see? Why should I have to pay?"
"No, it was you who ordered them, and you must-pay," said the butler, pursuing him.
As no policeman could be found, Madhavan returned to the station master.
"Well, I can’t help it," said that official.
Here the butler struck in with his complaint. "But this man," he said, " came into the refreshment room and ordered a lot of things, and I got them ready and took them to him, now he won’t pay."
"Why won’t you pay?" asked the station master of Madhavan.
"If you tell me to pay, I will," replied Madhavan. "I’ll give him all the money I have. But I must ask you to do me a favour. Just consider the trouble I am in, and telegraph to a friend of mine for me."
"Well, it’s very late, past six; but who’s your friend?"
"Mr. Gopinath Bannerjee," replied Madhavan. "[ was on my way to visit him, and shall be much obliged if you will send him a telegram."
At the mention of the name of Gopinath Bannerjee, a wonderful change had came over the station master’s manner. He was one of the millionaire’s dependants, and daily received at and despatched from his station all manner of goods for his patron, who had bestowed on him considerable sums of money and other gifts. Moreover, on one occasion when he was in peril, it was only through Gopinath Bannerjee’s kindness that his legs were not ornamented with fetters. He looked upon Gopinath Bannerjee as his god, and on hearing his name, jumped up nimbly from seat.
"What?" he exclaimed, "are you a friend of that gentleman? Were you going to him now? Here, porter, bring a chair for this gentleman; pray sit down, sir. I will telegraph at once. I have just replied to a telegram from the gentleman, and he must still be at the railway station near his place. Please write the telegram as soon as you can.
Madhavan at once wrote it and handed it to the station master, who said he would return with the answer in five minutes, caused to tea to be served, sent for the police, and showed Madhavan every possible attention. The importunate butler vanished from the scene, and in less than half an hour the station master brought the following answer to his telegram:
"Received telegram from Madhavan of Malabar. He is a great friend of mine. Show him all civility, and make him as comfortable as you can for the night. When his telegram arrived the last train had left, or I would have come tonight. Tell Madhavan not to be distressed. Please see he has all he wants until I arrive. I will come by the first train tomorrow. Inform the police at once. Don’t trouble Madhavan in the matter. I rely on you to do all you can for him."
If Madhavan had been a rajah or some potentate, he could not have received more attention and civility than he did from the station master. A man was at once despatched for the police; a large room, containing a bed, table, chairs and other furniture was cleaned and made ready for Madhavan’s accommodation, and in less than quarter of an hour an officer of the local police, who was a Mussulman and dressed in a most showy uniform, arrived with constables.
As soon as they came, the officer asked the station master who had been robbed, and what was the amount of property lost.
"It’s a Rajah from Malabar that has come," said the station master; "the property stolen from him is worth a lakh of rupees. He’s a Rajah, and is a great friend of Gopinath Bannerjee. He’s in that room there. He’s a great Rajah, and telegraphed for instructions to Gopinath Bannerjee, and I got the reply. See, here it is," and with these words he handed over the telegram. Madhavan overheard all the station master said, and, notwithstanding his trouble, laughed outright at the story of his being a Rajah, and the stolen property worth a lakh of rupees.
The police officer read the telegram, nodded his head portentously, and said he must see the Rajah and make notes of his complaint. Thereupon the station master entered Madhavan’s room, ushering in the redoubtable guardian of the peace, who, after making an obsequious salaam, stood before Madhavan with his arms hanging straight down his sides as if he were at drill. Madhavan rose from his seat and shook hands with the officer, said he was delighted to see him, and, making him sit on a chair beside him, addressed him most affably. The officer felt much honoured and and pleased with this treatment and said, "I am exceedingly distressed that your highness should have been annoyed in this way. But I shall leave nothing undone to detect the case. "
"I am not a Rajah," said Madhavan, much to the station master’s mortification. "Serve the fool right if his things are stolen," he thought, but Madhavan continued, "I am not a Rajah, but a Nair from Malabar, and in the service of Government. "
"O, I see," replied the police officer. "How much property have you lost?"
"I can’t say exactly," replied Madhavan.
"Oh, a heap of property has been stolen, ever such a lot," said the station master.
"It was worth about two thousand rupees," continued Madhavan. "The most valuable articles were those given by Mr. Govind Sen when I left Calcutta, but I am not certain what the exact value is."
"What! Is Govind Sen a friend of yours?" asked the police officer.
"Yes," answered Madhavan.
"I should like to hear the particulars of the theft," said the police officer, and Madhavan told him in detail all that happened. When he had finished, the police officer remained for ten minutes as mute as a devotee in a fit of profound abstraction. Then he relaxed into an oracular smile, looked at his posse of constables and smiled again, thereby indicating that he had fathomed the mystery to its depth.
"Yes, I have not the slightest doubt about it," he said. "The refreshment room butler must know all about this theft."
"Of course, of course, there can be no doubt of it." cried the station master, and the constables echoed, "Of course, of course, we haven’t a grain of doubt." Having uttered this sentiment, they shifted their position and, turning to each other, expressed in dumb show their admiration of the celerity with which their leader had traced the offence home to the offender. T
hen, as if eager for the word of command, they fixed their eyes on his face.
"But," interposed Madhavan, "I don’t see how the butler can know anything about it."
"Don’t you interfere in the matter," said the station master with great irritation. "Just leave it to the officer to do all that is wanted to track out the case. He’s a very superior kind of man, indeed, and has detected thousands of cases like this. Just let him manage his own business."
"All right," replied Madhavan. "I won’t say anything more. "
The police officer then rose and, going outside the room, ordered the butler to be summoned, and the butler came, trembling with fright.
"What have you done with the property you stole from this gentleman?" demanded the police officer.
"I? Whose property? Oh, Sir, would I have stolen it?"
"Beat the dog, will you ?" said the officer to a constable.
"Oh, oh, aiyo."
"Beat him again," said the officer.
"Oh, aiyo, aiyo," screamed the bultler. "I don’t know anything. "
"Hit him hard, can’t you," said the officer. "What a fool you are, constable, you’ve no strength; here, you beat him. Hit him on the head."
"Oh spare me, spare me, have mercy," yelled the butler. "I’m dying, I’m dying; Oh God, they are killing me."
"Go on," said the officer. "Thrash him again; pound the dog into a jelly."
"Oh, mercy, mercy," cried the victim. "Oh, give me some water, I’m dying, I am dying."
"Tie his hands behind his back and lift them right up; that’s it. Now get hold of his legs and pull them straight out," was the next order, and it was obeyed.
"Oh, Oh, aiyo," screamed the butler, unable to endure the agony. "I’ll give up the property; I will, indeed."
Indulekha Page 24