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The Colonel's still smoking revolver sank, and the supposed native swayed toward him, only to sink a few yards farther on to the ground. Carmichael ran to his side and lifted the fainting head against his shoulder. "Good God, Geoffries! Don't say I've hit you! How on earth was I to know!" "That's all right, Colonel. Only winded don't you know never hurried so much in life.
They had learned to assume an outward conformity which this prince had not needed to learn. And yet he stood alone, even among his own people alone. Wherein lay the link, wherein the barrier? Was it caste, religion? Hugh Geoffries found no answer to these questions.
He was not referring to the Bazaar, as Nehal supposed. "The past is over and done with," Nehal Singh answered, "but the future is ours and the common ideal which we must follow for the common good." Hugh Geoffries stood a long time after the Rajah had left him, absorbed in wondering speculation.
"You are in trouble," he said. "What is the matter?" As though he had been struck by a shock of electricity, Geoffries half sprang to his feet, and then, as he saw the dark face so close to his own, he sank back again, speechless and white to the lips. For a moment the two men looked at each other in unbroken silence.
One day you can repay me." The storm of protest died on Geoffries' lips. Prejudices, the ingrained arrogance of race which scorned to accept friendship at the hands of an inferior, sank to ashes as his eyes met those of this Hindu prince. "What have I done to deserve your kindness, Rajah Sahib?" he began helplessly, but Nehal Singh cut him smilingly short. "You have saved me," he said.
"When do you propose to make the start, Colonel?" Nicholson asked. "Within an hour. The night favors us. The women must be kept in the center as much as possible. I have given Geoffries special charge over them. They will be told at the last moment. There is no use in spoiling what little rest they have had." He drew out a pencil and began to scribble a despatch on the back of an old letter.
Geoffries shook his head. "I never do," he said. "I'm a rotter at bridge." "A hundred rupees!" Nehal went on reflectively. "That was the sum, I think? It is very little not enough to cause you any trouble." "Not by itself," Geoffries agreed, with a fresh collapse into his old depression. "But it is the last straw.
We are strangers to each other, but then the whole world is stranger to me. Yet I would be glad to help and understand the world, as I would be glad to help and understand you if you will let me." Geoffries looked shyly at this strange deus ex machina, troubled by perplexing considerations. How much had the Rajah heard of the previous conversation, how much had he understood?
Nehal Singh leaned forward and caught his companion by the arm. "Heroes?" he said with passionate earnestness. "Heroes?" Geoffries nodded. That look of enthusiastic sympathy won his heart and awoke his soldier's slumbering pride. "I'm no good at explaining," he said, "but I know of things that would stir your blood.
"And that, I think, would have been a pity for us both. If I can help you, perhaps you can help me." He paused and then added slowly: "I have been standing watching you a long time." "A long time!" A curious fear crept over the boyish face. "You saw us playing, then and heard what we said?" "Yes." "And you wish to help me?" "If I can." Geoffries turned his head away, avoiding the direct gaze.
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