Chapter III (4)

“You must keep what I am going to read to you a secret”--Kareem’s eyes sparkled. “It is for your own good, and now listen,” lowering his voice to a whisper. “This”--displaying the scrap--“is in ancient Persian characters, and relates to a treasure that has been buried for more than three hundred years.” Kareem endeavoured to speak, but failed to articulate. “Yes--apparently some of the spoils of Mahommed of Guznee, who took and conquered the Punjab, and made twelve raiding expeditions into Hindustan. Doubtless this is some loot that the victors failed to carry off and concealed--possibly they were hotly pursued.

“It says”--now taking off his glasses and applying a microscope to his eye and reading very slowly--“‘Eighty _koss_ north from Hassanpur, on the edge of the Goomptee river, that is within fifty paces, near the great bridge and between milestone and saal tree, I, Fateh Din, bury a rich store of jewels and gold, by reason of one camel being sorely wounded and the enemy pressing on fast. May Allah preserve it for me and mine!’”

The syce’s eyes seemed double their usual size, his face worked with emotion, he could not speak; he could only gasp and sob as the collector went on--

“This is the catalogue, only a partial one apparently,” turning and reading the reverse of the parchment.

“‘Two _khantas_ (necklaces) of rubies and pearls, very large. Four _sirpech_ (forehead ornaments) of diamonds. Twelve _bazabands_ (armlets) of choice emeralds. Five _turals_ (plumes) of great brilliants. One coat embroidered in seed pearls, five gold stirrups.’

“You must keep silent as the grave, Kareem,” said his master, laying down the microscope. “It is possible that there is a quantity of gold coin as well as jewels. The list seems broken off suddenly; it remains entirely with yourself to be a rich man, and if you would be wealthy, be silent. I am going into that part of the district this cold weather. Can you hold your tongue for two months?”

“I can, sahib,” faltered Kareem, who was trembling all over.

“I think I know the place--the bridge was destroyed forty years ago, but its piers are still standing; the old road, too, has fallen into disuse since we have the railway and canal, but I believe I can put my hand on the very spot, between the saal tree and the milestone.”

“And will all this treasure be _mine_?” whispered Kareem.

“Yes, since you claim it by the writing, which has doubtless been in your family for many generations. Possibly your father was in search of this treasure when he died.”

“Yes, most true, your highness.”

“Only for this paper in your possession, it would be claimed and recovered by Government.”

“May I tell my grandfather, Ibrahim Khan?”

“I suppose you may--that is, if he is a cautious man; but mind this, Kareem, to no one else; above all, to no _woman_.”

“No fear, your honour; I know that a slip of the tongue is worse than a slip of the foot.”

“You are young to have learnt that lesson; bear it well in mind. And now you can go.”

Old Ibrahim heard the splendid news that same night, as he and his adopted grandson sat on the rug in the middle of the shop, with the oil-lamp swinging between them; heard it with puckered face, twitching claw-like fingers, and glittering eyes. What was the store he had buried beneath the floor in comparison to _this_? _Two_ camel-loads of gold and jewels! Oh! if he had only taken the worthless-looking amulet when he appropriated the ponies and the money; it was the richest prize of all; but alas! he was ever unfortunate.

“Let us go forth and seek it now,” he panted; “we will arise and take two ekkas with strong ponies, and spades, and sacks, and start. I will aver that we are gone to a marriage at Aligarh.”

“You would not be believed,” returned Kareem scornfully; “and how would you get the ekkas, or buy spades, without raising suspicion? The place is full of robbers and budmashes, and the distance is too long for an old man like you; we would both be murdered. No, I will wait and go with the collector sahib; he will lend carts, and we need have no fear--we shall have the protection of the Sircar.”

“Oh yes, but you are a young man,” whined Ibrahim, twisting his hands convulsively, “and in two months _I_ may be dead! Oh! and I know so well where to sell gold and precious stones; where we shall get a _great_ price quietly, and without question or dispute.”

“You will surely live two months,” rejoined Kareem. “At any rate, I have given my word to the sahib, and it must be as he wills.”

From this time forward, a great change came over Kareem; he no longer laughed and gesticulated and showed his teeth--white as the slit of a cocoanut; he no longer gossiped in the serai, or gambled below the bridge; he found his secret very burdensome, and his veins seemed filled with a burning fever of restlessness; his eyes looked large and his cheeks hollow; his song was no longer on his lips.

As for old Ibrahim, he now cared nought for his trade; and _what_, asked the neighbours, had he and Kareem in common that they were so often together, conferring earnestly in low whispers?

Kareem was much at home, too, and people began to marvel; he seemed preoccupied and strange and proud; he refused to gamble; he took no interest in kite-flying; instead of which, he was constantly muttering into the ear of his grandfather. “Why? What were they talking about? What was their secret?”

Kareem was recounting the list of spoil for the hundredth time, and Ibrahim was bestowing much sage advice on his _protégé_.

“My son, above all keep the secret from a woman--from Pera; do not let her mischievous eyes draw you into her snare. She is bad, she is insolent to you; may her hair take fire!”

“But you know the proverb, a blow in the mouth from the hand of her we love is sweeter than raisins,” argued the youth.

“And you love her?” shrieked the old man.

Kareem nodded his head.

“Oh, ye fathers!” exclaimed Ibrahim; “but she will marry that budmash Mindoo.”

“She cares not for him, and I shall be rich.”

“Yes; and who has money in the scales, has strength in his arms. He who has no money is destitute of friends. Hearken, my son; Pera will spend your riches like flowing water.”

“Time enough to talk of spending when I possess them,” rejoined the lad, prudently.

“Fair son of my old age, give me your promise to keep the news from her; swear it by the beard of the Prophet.”

“I swear by the soul of my father; am I a child or a fool?” he demanded angrily.

“Alas! in her hands you are _both_.”

Kareem’s altered manner was not lost on Pera, and she smilingly promised her immediate circle to probe his secret, and that they should all speedily learn why he gave himself airs like a Nawab.

She drew him on, and encouraged the infatuated boy, and gained her old ascendency over him in less than two days. He entirely forgot Ibrahim’s solemn warnings, and what chance has a wrinkled ugly old man against the charms and the mocking words, and bright glances, of a Circe of sixteen? She asked Kareem many searching questions, and flouted him, ridiculed him, flattered him. One evening, as they leant over the bridge together, she inquired--

“Why had he given away his kite? Why was he not at Buldoo’s wedding feast? Why did he mope like a sick fowl? What secret was in his mind?”

His tardy answers were vague and confused, and all at once the truth broke upon Pera with one lightning flash.

The scroll had been deciphered.

“Kareem, I see you no longer care for me,” she whimpered tearfully.

“I do,” he rejoined; “but to what avail? You are to marry Mindoo, the dacoit.”

“He is no dacoit; neither am I to marry him. If you say so, I will strike you on the mouth with my shoe,” rejoined this fiery lady.

“Nevertheless, both my words are true,” persisted Kareem, doggedly.

“They are _not_; Mindoo is old. Ah bah! thirty years old! he lacks one finger; he has a hideous mark on his cheek, whilst you----” she paused and smiled in his face expressively and said, “Oh, Kareem, what an owl you are! And now shall I tell you what ails you?”

“Yes, if you can,” he answered with an incredulous laugh.

“You have found out what was written in the little scroll.”

Kareem started perceptibly.

“Yes, I see it is true,” and here she made a wild shot. “I’ll wager my gold nose-ring, that it relates to _money_.”

Kareem grew very pale, and cast down his eyes.

“To a treasure: look at me, Kareem.”

He looked, impelled by the influence of her eyes, looked and was lost--his face told everything.

“Pera,” he exclaimed tremulously, “you are a witch.”

“Kareem,” she rejoined, leaning her cool smooth cheek against his (truly she was a bold, forward minx), “you are an owl; you always _were_ an owl. Once you had no secrets from me.--Now begin and tell me all about it.”

“I can tell you nothing,” withdrawing his eyes from those dazzling black orbs, and gazing fixedly into the river.

“Oh, Kareem, alas! my first word was true, you no longer care for me;” and her eyes filled with pure crocodile’s tears.

“I do, I do, beyond any treasure in the world,” he protested eagerly.

“Yes” (so there _was_ a treasure), “but you only pretend to love me; it is all from the mouth, like idle words.”

“No, it is from my heart and soul; but you in your heart care not for me, you care for Mindoo. You laughed the day I came home in my syce’s clothes--you laughed when Hiram’s white Arab nearly killed me.”

“Pooh”--snapping her fingers playfully--“what is a laugh? I always laugh! See, I still wear your blue glass bangles. I love finery; I love laughing--and I love _you_. Oh, foolish Kareem, how shall I prove it to you, since you doubt my word? Speak!”

“Marry me in two moons’ time,” was his prompt answer.

“Yes,” after a long pause, “but I must also prove _you_; I swear by Allah to marry you, but first you must tell me your secret.”

And she looked up into his face and smiled, and he, gazing at her parted red lips and glistening, eager eyes, wavered. She saw her advantage, and instantly pressed it home.

Oh! miserable youth! why did you not attend to that cry of warning in your ears--“Blind man, blind man, blind man”?

The sun hung low in a crimson sky, everything was defined and glorified as in a golden light, from the curves of the shining river, to where the flat horizon touched the glowing heavens. The couple on the bridge, fair as another Paul and Virginia, stood out in black relief against the yellow haze; as they leant upon the stone parapet, talking in whispers, passers-by laughed and said, “Behold, Pera makes a fool of Kareem again.” When at length they raised themselves up, and came slowly homewards, there was a new, ecstatic, and triumphant expression in Pera’s eyes--she KNEW. Nevertheless she had sworn by a most solemn oath, never to reveal the secret of the amulet. It was already arranged that she was to have a palki-gharri and two horses--just like a _mem-sahib_--and a string of large pearls, and gold necklets, such as would make the Bunnia’s wife poison herself from envy; for she and Kareem were to be married by the first moon in December--and to live happy ever after.

A month later, the collector’s camp was pitched within two miles of the banks of the Goomptee. He had arrived there by slow marches, and was within easy reach of the spot indicated in the parchment. Mr. Colebrook set out on foot in the afternoon, with Kareem to carry his fishing-rod, and to disarm suspicion. They walked for some distance along the edge of the river in single file, till round a sharp bend the old broken bridge appeared in view; the setting sun was shining between the massive piers, as the Goomptee came swirling between them. A pair of paddy-birds were having a mortal combat in the rushes, a serious-looking blue kingfisher was perched on a stone, following his avocation. Enormous fish (_rohu_) splashed about like porpoises; no wonder they were so thriving! the Goomptee is a sacred river; on the sand on the far bank lay a bleached white skeleton, and here, among the tangled water-plants, was an old charpoy, legs upward, on which some corpse had once been committed to the holy stream.

But naturally Kareem had no interest in these things; though his master, a man of dreamy moods, paused for a moment, and in his mind’s eye surveyed the great bridge as it once had been, covered with a multitude of horsemen and camel-drivers--a predatory horde--flying northward, with their spoils, and their streaming horse-tail standards.

He was sharply aroused from his reverie by a piercing cry, and turning, he saw that Kareem had already made his way to the great milestone (shaped like a gigantic thimble); there, too, was an ancient saal tree; and his treasure-seeking syce was standing on the verge of an enormous, recently dug, and perfectly empty hole. Miserable Kareem, the world seemed to swim before his eyes; the tree, the milestone, and the sky went round and round, as he turned a ghastly face and pair of wild eyes on his master, and pointed to the cavity at his feet; it was all that he could do.

“Yes,” cried Mr. Colebrook, “it is gone, no doubt of _that_, and gone within a week; see the freshly-turned earth, the wheel-tracks. Oh, you young fool! How many have you taken into your confidence besides old Ibrahim? You see they have robbed you. Whom have you told?”

“But one,” stammered Kareem, in a hoarse voice.

“Look,” continued the collector, “they were in a great hurry”--poking the earth with his stick as he spoke. “See, they left the spade; here are bits of iron clamps; here are two gold coins, the boss of a silver bit, and--yes, a trace of the thieves--and of course there was a _woman_ in it,” as, stooping, he picked up something, and held it towards Kareem. “Here is half of a blue glass bangle.”

Kareem stared, with great distended eyes; as he stood, he became of a dull greyish colour, his lips were livid, and his face twisted out of all recognition, with some spasm of horrible agony.

“_It is Pera’s_,” he shouted, with a wild, despairing scream, and flung himself full-length on the ground, digging his hands into the sandy soil.

“They have a whole week’s start, I am afraid,” said Mr. Colebrook, who was still turning over the earth, “and will make forced marches; but we may catch them. I shall send you off at once, on the young bay horse, with a note to the joint magistrate; he will telegraph, and I believe we will get them yet; they have too heavy a load to travel rapidly. Kareem, don’t be a woman! Get up and listen to me, Kareem! Do you hear me?” and he shook him gently. But Kareem would never hear anything again in this world--Kareem was dead.

At first Mr. Colebrook could not, and would not, realize the truth; he put his hand across the cold mouth; he laid his ear against the still heart; it was no faint. Alas! no.

The shock had proved fatal to Kareem. To lose his fortune and his beloved, in one and the same moment, was too crushing a blow for his frail organization. Pera’s treachery had broken his heart.

When the collector had at last grasped the tragic fact, that the active, bright-faced boy, who had started from the camp hardly an hour ago, full of life and hope, was really dead, he was deeply concerned, and he felt an unusual dimness in his eyes, as he stood gazing at this unhappy heir of long-buried riches.

Then seeing a chuprassi in the distance, who had followed (unbidden) afar off, he shouted to him to approach. The chuprassi came and looked, and was amazed out of his usual impassive demeanour; and in an extraordinarily short time a little crowd had assembled--what mystic force is it that draws people to a tragedy, whether in a London street, or an Indian jungle? Here were lean brown fishermen from the river-banks; here were turtle-spearers, and half a dozen ryots, who had abandoned their herds of gaunt white cattle--all come to look at a dead lad.

The distance made it impossible to carry Kareem back to Hassanpur, and bury him formally in the Mohammedan cemetery. “In the place where the tree falleth there shall it be,” and he must find a resting-place in the forest. Mr. Colebrook left two men to watch the body, whilst he hurried to camp to make arrangements for the interment, and to break the heavy tidings to Harry Sahib. The funeral obsequies were solemnly conducted by Kareem’s fellow Mohammedan servants, and early next day the collector was surprised to hear that Kareem had already been laid to rest. The great hole, which for three centuries had contained his lost family treasure, of gold and rubies, pearls and emeralds, now received instead, their unfortunate and defrauded heir,--and proved his convenient grave. Harry Sahib shed many hot tears upon it, and even brought the “lal Tattoo” to see the place where poor Kareem was buried.

The collector instituted an immediate search for Pera, daughter of Abdool, but she and Mindoo, the dacoit, had suddenly disappeared--“the very day that his honour himself had gone into the district; no one could tell what had become of them.” After a long and wholly useless investigation, the following facts were elicited: Pera and Mindoo had had accomplices in their flight; they had gone south; but few beyond Mr. Colebrook were in possession of the third and most important detail, viz. that with them, they had carried the secret of the amulet.

THE END.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is entered into the public domain.