The Broken Road | Page 8

for the next moment the blow fell.
"For bad news has come to us. Sahib Linforth met his death two days
ago, fifty miles from here, in the camp of his Excellency Abdulla
Mahommed, the Commander-in-Chief to his Highness. Abdulla
Mahommed is greatly grieved, knowing well that this violent act will
raise up a prejudice against him and his Highness. Moreover, he too
would live in friendship with the British. But his soldiers are justly
provoked by the violation of treaties by the British, and it is impossible
to stay their hands. Therefore, before Abdulla Mahommed joins hands
with my master, Wafadar Nazim, before this fort, it will be well for the
Colonel Sahib and his troops to be safely out of reach."
Luffe was doubtful whether to believe the words or no. The story might
be a lie to frighten him and to discourage the garrison. On the other
hand, it was likely enough to be true. And if true, it was the worst news
which Luffe had heard for many a long day.
"Let me hear how the accident--occurred," he said, smiling grimly at
the euphemism he used.
"Sahib Linforth was in the tent set apart for him by Abdulla
Mahommed. There were guards to protect him, but it seems they did
not watch well. Huzoor, all have been punished, but punishment will
not bring Sahib Linforth to life again. Therefore hear the words of
Wafadar Nazim, spoken now for the last time. He himself will escort
you and your soldiers and officers to the borders of British territory, so
that he may rejoice to know that you are safe. You will leave his
Highness Mir Ali behind, who will resign his throne in favour of his
uncle Wafadar, and so there will be peace."
"And what will happen to Mir Ali, whom we have promised to
protect?"
The Diwan shrugged his shoulders in a gentle, deprecatory fashion and

smiled his melancholy smile. His gesture and his attitude suggested that
it was not in the best of taste to raise so unpleasant a question. But he
did not reply in words.
"You will tell Wafadar Nazim that we will know how to protect his
Highness the Khan, and that we will teach Abdulla Mahommed a
lesson in that respect before many moons have passed," Luffe said
sternly. "As for this story of Sahib Linforth, I do not believe a word of
it."
The Diwan nodded his head.
"It was believed that you would reply in this way.
"Therefore here are proofs." He drew from his dress a silver watch
upon a leather watch-guard, a letter-case, and to these he added a letter
in Linforth's own hand. He handed them to Luffe.
Luffe handed the watch and chain to Dewes, and opened the letter-case.
There was a letter in it, written in a woman's handwriting, and besides
the letter the portrait of a girl. He glanced at the letter and glanced at
the portrait. Then he passed them on to Dewes.
Dewes looked at the portrait with a greater care. The face was winning
rather than pretty. It seemed to him that it was one of those faces which
might become beautiful at many moments through the spirit of the
woman, rather than from any grace of feature. If she loved, for instance,
she would be really beautiful for the man she loved.
"I wonder who she is," he said thoughtfully.
"I know," replied Luffe, almost carelessly. He was immersed in the
second letter which the Diwan had handed to him.
"Who is it?" asked Dewes.
"Linforth's wife."
"His wife!" exclaimed Dewes, and, looking at the photograph again, he

said in a low voice which was gentle with compassion, "Poor woman!"
"Yes, yes. Poor woman!" said Luffe, and he went on reading his letter.
It was characteristic of Luffe that he should feel so little concern in the
domestic side of Linforth's life. He was not very human in his outlook
on the world. Questions of high policy interested and engrossed his
mind; he lived for the Frontier, not so much subduing a man's natural
emotions as unaware of them. Men figured in his thoughts as the
instruments of policy; their womenfolk as so many hindrances or aids
to the fulfilment of their allotted tasks. Thus Linforth's death troubled
him greatly, since Linforth was greatly concerned in one great
undertaking. Moreover, the scheme had been very close to Linforth's
heart, even as it was to Luffe's. But Linforth's wife was in England, and
thus, as it seemed to him, neither aid nor impediment. But in that he
was wrong. She had been the mainspring of Linforth's energy, and so
much was evident in the letter which Luffe read slowly to the end.
"Yes, Linforth's dead," said he, with a momentary discouragement.