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Updated: May 31, 2025
In the hut, Rutton lay dead of poison; somewhere amongst the dunes the babu lay in his blood, shot to death foully murdered, the world would say. Should these things become known, he would be detained indefinitely in Nokomis as a witness if, indeed, he escaped a graver charge. It was, then, with a mind burdened with black anxiety that he went to arouse Doggott.
Doggott disappeared to prepare the meal, but within five minutes a second gun-shot sounded startlingly near at hand. The Virginian's appearance at the door was coincident with a clear hail of "Aho-oy, Amber!" unmistakably Quain's voice, raised at a distance of not over two hundred yards. Amber's answering cry quavered with joy.
His assistance to me then was invaluable. After that I lost track of him." "And the valet?" "Oh, I'd forgotten Doggott. He was a Cockney, as silent and self-contained as Rutton.... To get back to Nokomis: I met Doggott at the station, called him by name, and he refused to admit knowing me said I must have mistaken him for his twin brother.
In a mask of immobility, full-colored and closely shaven, his lips were thin and tight, his eyes steady, grey and shallow: a countenance neither dishonest nor repellent, but one inscrutable. Standing solidly, once halted, there remained a suggestion of alertness in the fellow's pose. "Doggott, what the deuce brings you here? And Mr. Rutton?" Amber's cordiality educed no response.
A little awed, it may be, and certainly more than a little depressed, they left the hollow by the beaten way, the Portuguese Antone leading with a pick and spade, Amber and Quain following side by side, Doggott with his valise bringing up the rear. Beyond the hollow the tracks diverged toward the bay shore; and presently they came to the scene of the tragedy.
Presently the sun rose in glory and sent its burning level rays to cast a shadow several rods long of an enraged American beating frantically with clenched fists upon the door of an unresponsive railway station. He hammered until he was a-weary, then deputised his task to Doggott, who resourcefully found him a stone of size and proceeded to make dents in the door.
My father and your man Doggott joined us at Karachi, where this steamer touched the second day." "You understand, now ?" "Everything, dearest." "Labertouche ?" "He told me nothing. I haven't seen him since that morning, when, just after you were wounded, we started for Nok. He posted off to Kuttarpur to find my father.... No; it was you who told me everything in your delirium."
"Gone to the palace to threaten Salig Singh with an army corps." "You know the telegraph wires are cut?" "Yes, but how " "Never mind how I know the story's too long. The thing to do is to get troops here without a day's delay." "But how?" "Take Raikes, Clarkson, and Doggott and ride like hell to Badshah Junction. Telegraph from there. The four of you ought to be able to fight your way through."
Amber remained at the table, his head upon it, his face hidden by his arms, so still that Doggott would have thought him sleeping but for his uneven breathing. On tiptoe the man-servant moved in and out of the room, making ready for the day, mechanically carrying out his dead master's last instructions, to pack up against an early departing.
About him were many footprints, some recently made presumably by his companion. The latter, however, kept himself discreetly invisible. At a word from Quain the Portuguese paused and began to dig. Quain, Amber, and Doggott went on a little distance, then, by mutual consent, halted within sight of Antone. "I wouldn't leave him if I were you," Amber told Quain, nodding back at the Portuguese.
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