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Updated: June 4, 2025
It must be terribly late. Could they have hanged Ross-Ellison already? Could he have gone to his death thinking his friend had failed him; had passed by, like the Levite, on the other side; had turned up a sanctimonious nose at the letter of the Murderer; had behaved as some "friends" do behave in time of trouble? Could he have died thinking this?
I asked, for the Subedar-Major's rapid utterance of the name conveyed nothing of familiar English or Scottish names to my mind. "Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan," replied Mir Daoud Khan; "that was her father's name, Sahib." "Say it again, slowly." "Jan Rah-bin-Ras el-Isan." "I have it! Yes, but what? John Robin Ross-Ellison? Good God! But I knew a John Robin Ross-Ellison when I was a Captain.
And, as bayonets rose breast-high and fingers curled lovingly round triggers, every knife but that of Ross-Ellison disappeared as by magic, and the Corporal beheld a little crowd of innocent men endeavouring to secure a dangerous lunatic at the risk of their lives terrible risk, as the bodies of five dead and dying men might testify.
"And you believe in haunted houses and ghosts and things, do you? Well!" The salted-almond dish was empty, and Mrs. Dearman accused her other neighbour, Mr. John Robin Ross-Ellison. Having already prepared to meet and rebut the charge of greediness he made passes over the vessel and it was replenished. "Supernatural!" said she. "Most," said he.
He found himself face to face with one John Robin Ross-Ellison newly come to Gungapur, a gentleman of independent means but supposed to be connected with the Political Department or the Secret Service or something, who stared him in the eyes without speaking while he poised a long drink as though wondering whether it were worth while wasting good liquor on the face of such a thing as the Hatter.
Nothing remained but to clear up the mess and begin afresh with more wisdom and sounder policy. It was over, and, among other things now possible, Colonel John Robin Ross-Ellison might ask the woman he loved whether she could some day become his wife. He had saved her life, watched over her, served her with mind and body, lived for her.
Several of the Officers were almost English though Greeks and Goa-Portuguese predominated, and there was undeniably a drop or two of English blood in the ranks, well diffused of course. Some folk said that even Captain John Robin Ross-Ellison was not as Scotch as his name.
On the day after my arrival I went to call on Malet-Marsac to whom I had letters of introduction political business and, as he was out, but certain to return in a minute or two from Parade, I sat me down in a comfortable chair in the verandah " "And went to sleep?" interrupted Mrs. Dearman. "I nevah sleep," quoted Mr. Ross-Ellison, "and I had no time, if any inclination.
As he stood on this spot the noose of the greased rope was placed round his neck by a warder who then looked to Major Ranald for a sign, received it, and pulled over a lever which withdrew the bolts supporting the hinged flaps. These fell apart, Ross-Ellison dropped through the platform, and Christian Society was avenged.
"I give myself up to you as a murderer, Corporal," said he who had been Colonel John Robin Ross-Ellison. "I am a murderer. If you will take me before your officer I will confess and give details." "I'm agoin' to take you bloomin' well all," replied the surprised Corporal. "Chuck down that there beastly carvin' knife. You seem a too 'andy cove wiv' it."
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