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This man might have a feud with Kubar Bux, and peradventure he had merely invented the story of thugs and wholesale murder for the latter's undoing. I know well the wily ways of some men how they will even imperil their own lives to compass the ruin of an enemy. "'If I go with you now, I said, 'to the shop of Kubar Bux, what proof will you give me of his connexion with this story of thuggee?
"As I stood with the informer in front of the tiny shop, which was too small for all of us to enter, the two soldiers closed up behind us. Then unmistakably did Kubar Bux turn grey from trepidation.
"When I saw that Kubar Bux was indeed dead, I drew forth this implement. It was carefully swathed in white cloths, a pickaxe bright from the hammer of the smith who had forged it, unsullied by earthy stain but curiously marked from the head to the point by seven discs of red paint, showing it to be an object of worship at an altar rather than for actual use in the ground.
It had never been worn or washed. It must thus have come straight from some shop in the bazaars. But scores of the same kind are bought and sold every day. We could discover nothing from this, the only clue the murderer had left behind him." "The assassin must have been the mysterious individual you saw in the rear of the shop of Kubar Bux," commented the Afghan general.
So it was that Hasha, with little inspection, was the least reputable and almost the dirtiest town on the Nile; for even in those far-off days the official Englishman had his influence, especially when Kubar Pasha was behind him. Kubar had his good points. There were certain definite reasons, however, why Fielding Bey shrank from visiting Hasha.
"Keeping close to the denouncer, I allowed him to lead me through the narrow crowded streets. Soon we were at the corner where was the shop of Kubar Bux, and there amidst his bales of merchandise the man himself was seated, a venerable and dignified figure. Yet at sight of me and my companion I thought an ashen pallor stole into the nut-brown of his complexion.
"'But that is the shop of Kubar Bux. He dwells here in Delhi. "'Kubar Bux is his name. "'He is a well-known and respected merchant. "'None the less is he a thug, answered the informer, with what I took to be a vindictive little smile. "Then once again did a new thought leap into my mind.
He pressed against the bales, and then all of a sudden sank down upon the floor in a huddled heap. Then I saw the crimson stain of blood upon the merchandise. "I sprang forward. Driven up to the very hilt, in the breast of Kubar Bux was a dagger.
He was an old man of sixty, in a canvas overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat, the greasy borders of which hid his stout, fat, red face. He had a thick white beard, out of which a small red nose turned gaily heavenward. He had thick, crimson lips and watery, cynical eyes. They called him "Kubar", a name which well described his round figure an buzzing speech.
He was an old man of sixty, in a canvas overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat, the greasy borders of which hid his stout fat red face. He had a thick white beard, out of which a small red nose turned gaily heavenwards. He had thick, crimson lips and watery, cynical eyes. They called him "Kubar," a name which well described his round figure and buzzing speech.
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