The Broken Road | Page 5

go about his work. And then the
Doctor said in a whisper to Major Dewes:
"That's bad. Look!"
Luffe, a mighty smoker in his days of health, had let his cigarette go
out, had laid it half-consumed upon the edge of his plate. But it seemed
that ill-health was not all to blame. He had the look of one who had
forgotten his company. He was withdrawn amongst his own
speculations, and his eyes looked out beyond that smoke-laden room in
a fort amongst the Himalaya mountains into future years dim with peril
and trouble.
"There is no moon," he said at length. "We can get some exercise
to-night"; and he rose from the table and ascended a little staircase on
to the flat roof of the fort. Major Dewes and the three other officers got
up and went about their business. Dr. Bodley, the surgeon, alone
remained seated. He waited until the tramp of his companions' feet had
died away, and then he drew from his pocket a briarwood pipe, which
he polished lovingly. He walked round the table and, collecting the
ends of the cigarettes, pressed them into the bowl of the pipe.
"Thank Heavens I am not an executive officer," he said, as he lighted
his pipe and settled himself again comfortably in his chair. It should be
mentioned, perhaps, that he not only doctored and operated on the sick
and wounded, but he kept the stores, and when any fighting was to be
done, took a rifle and filled any place which might be vacant in the
firing-line.
"There are now forty-four cigarettes," he reflected. "At six a day they
will last a week. In a week something will have happened. Either the
relieving force will be here, or--yes, decidedly something will have
happened." And as he blew the smoke out from between his lips he
added solemnly: "If not to us, to the Political Officer."

Meanwhile Luffe paced the roof of the fort in the darkness. The fort
was built in the bend of a swift, wide river, and so far as three sides
were concerned was securely placed. For on three the low precipitous
cliffs overhung the tumbling water. On the fourth, however, the fertile
plain of the valley stretched open and flat up to the very gates.
In front of the forts a line of sangars extended, the position of each
being marked even now by a glare of light above it, which struck up
from the fire which the insurgents had lit behind the walls of stone.
And from one and another of the sangars the monotonous beat of a
tom-tom came to Luffe's ears.
Luffe walked up and down for a time upon the roof. There was a new
sangar to-night, close to the North Tower, which had not existed
yesterday. Moreover, the almond trees in the garden just outside the
western wall were in blossom, and the leaves upon the branches were
as a screen, where only the bare trunks showed a fortnight ago.
But with these matters Luffe was not at this moment concerned. They
helped the enemy, they made the defence more arduous, but they were
trivial in his thoughts. Indeed, the siege itself was to him an
unimportant thing. Even if the fortress fell, even if every man within
perished by the sword--why, as Lynes had said, the Sirkar does not
forget its servants. The relieving force might march in too late, but it
would march in. Men would die, a few families in England would wear
mourning, the Government would lose a handful of faithful servants.
England would thrill with pride and anger, and the rebellion would end
as rebellions always ended.
Luffe was troubled for quite another cause. He went down from the
roof, walked by courtyard and winding passage to the quarters of the
Khan. A white-robed servant waited for him at the bottom of a broad
staircase in a room given up to lumber. A broken bicycle caught Luffe's
eye. On the ledge of a window stood a photographic camera. Luffe
mounted the stairs and was ushered into the Khan's presence. He bowed
with deference and congratulated the Khan upon the birth of his heir.
"I have been thinking," said the Khan--"ever since my son was born I

have been thinking. I have been a good friend to the English. I am their
friend and servant. News has come to me of their cities and colleges. I
will send my son to England, that he may learn your wisdom, and so
return to rule over his kingdom. Much good will come of it." Luffe had
expected the words. The young Khan had a passion for things English.
The bicycle and the camera were signs of it. Unwise men had
applauded his enlightenment. Unwise at all