The Daughter of Brahma | Page 4

Nonsense!"
He grunted and rolled over, and there was silence save for the soft,
regular movement of the punkah. The native who had taken up his
position at the foot of the judge's improvised couch remained unsmiling
and immovable.
"Three o'clock, Sahib," he repeated solemnly. "Sahib's horse outside."
"Go away!" said the judge. "I didn't expect it in the drawing-room." He

pulled his handkerchief further over his face and feigned sleep. Then,
as though conscious that his impassive Nemesis was about to reiterate
his information for the third time, he kicked away the chair which
supported his nether limbs and sat up. "Now what the devil is the
matter?" he demanded.
"Three o'clock, Sahib. Sahib's horse outside."
"Yes, yes, I've heard all about that. What I ask is, what do I want with a
horse at three o'clock in the afternoon. You don't know? Well, I'm sure
I don't, though you seem to think I ought. Let me see what clothes have
I got on? That might give me a hint."
He got up and inspected himself thoughtfully. "My best breeches, eh?
A silk tie and I perceive that my new and most comfortless toppers
await me. Son of the Night, there is a lady in the case --cherchez la
femme, as our French friends say, though with a different accent. There,
give me my coat. I shall remember in a minute." He seated himself
again and stretched out a stockinged foot for the boot which the native
held in readiness. It was a somewhat tight squeeze, and the judge
groaned softly. "It must be an altogether exceptional lady," he
muttered.
"Who the devil--" He stopped, and a slow smile dawned over his face.
"I have it! Of course! Son of the Night, you should have been more
insistent. I'm going to be late for tea. Now just cast an eye over me and
tell me what I look like."
The native glanced at the massive figure in spotless duck and bowed
his head reverently.
The judge chuckled.
"Well, that's one way of getting out of it, anyhow," he said. "Now for
it!"
He adjusted his sun-helmet carefully, took his riding-crop from the
table, and limped out on to the verandah. A wave of dry, lifeless air

greeted him, and he stood for a moment hi the shadow, evidently more
than half inclined to turn back. But the syce with the big, raw-boned
horse stood at the bottom of the steps, stoical and unrelenting, and the
judge, apparently bowing to the dictates of Fate, crossed the Rubicon
into the blazing sunshine and swung himself heavily into the saddle
with a groan which the pig-skin echoed. The horse took an involuntary
step forward, and the judge repeated his chuckle.
"I'm getting too much for you, Sarah Jane," he said regretfully.
"However, I daresay you'll bear me as long as I want you. Now then,
old lady, make an effort, will you?"
The "old lady " complied with his request and ambled sedately out
through the compound gates and on to the high-road. Without any
apparent indication from the judge, she took the turning to the right and
broke into a trot which lasted until they had left the last human
habitation behind them. No one had witnessed their progress. The
European quarter was wrapped in profound slumber and such natives as
were visible lay about in the shade of their dirty, tumble-down
dwellings and deigned the passerby not so much as a glance.
Nevertheless, as though fearing unseen witnesses, both horse and rider
kept up a certain appearance until the last hut was out of sight, when
the "old lady" immediately relapsed into her amble, and the judge
collapsed in his saddle like a man suddenly deprived of his backbone.
He was tall, heavily built, with a figure and a square-cut, ruddy face
which seemed to combine to represent strength and a robust goodnature.
Irritable, parchment-skinned Anglo-Indians were wont to look upon his
apparently blooming health and unimpaired nervous system very much
in the light of a personal insult. The fewest were clever enough to see
beneath the surface, and those who did were discreet enough to hold
their peace. A man who successfully " keeps up appearances" year after
year in a tropical temperature deserves to have his secrets respected,
and the judge had never been heard to complain. He carried himself
bravely in the eyes of the world, and if at the present moment he hung
in the saddle with bowed shoulders and a white, puffy face which was
not good to look on, there was at least no one to note the passing

weakness not even the " old lady," though, in any case, she would not
have counted. That worthy animal had her own burdens to carry in
every sense