River of Smoke - Amitav Ghosh [175]
‘Oh no,’ said Slade. ‘I believe his reprieve lasted only an hour or two. He was taken to the execution grounds and quickly dispatched.’
‘Sorry little wretch,’ said Dent, ‘he was nothing but a minion; a tu’penny ha’penny scoundrel like hundreds of others.’
Bahram glanced out of the window again: somewhere on the other side of White Swan Lake a village was celebrating a wedding with a display of fireworks; rockets were arcing upwards, each seeming to travel on two planes simultaneously, through the sky, and over the misted mirror of the lake’s surface. Gazing at the spectacle, he was reminded of that night, many years ago, when he and Chi-mei had lain beside each other in a sampan that seemed to be suspended within a sphere of light; he remembered how he had reached for the silver in his pocket and poured it into her hands and how she had laughed and said: ‘And Allow? Why no cumshaw for Allow?’
Bahram could not bear to look at the lake again. He glanced down at his plate and saw that the fat had begun to congeal on his untouched slices of duck. He pushed his chair back. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Please forgive me. I am not feeling quite pucka tonight. I think I should retire.’
‘What?’ said Slade. ‘No custard? No port?’
Bahram smiled and shook his head: ‘No, not tonight, if you please.’
‘Of course. A good night’s sleep will give you back your appetite.’
‘Yes. Good night, Lancelot. John.’
‘Good night.’
Bahram went quickly down the stairs, pulling his choga tight around his shoulders. On stepping outside the Chamber’s premises he paused, of long habit, to look around for Apu his lantern-bearer. Ordinarily Vico, or someone else, would have made sure that Apu had been sent to fetch him – but today was no ordinary day, so he was not surprised to find the courtyard empty of lantern-bearers.
Setting off at a brisk pace, Bahram emerged from the Danish Hong to find himself alone on the Maidan, with a thick fog rolling in from the river. The waterfront was already obscured as was much of the Maidan, but pinpricks of light could be seen in the windows of all the factories.
In the distance, on the far side of White Swan Lake, fireworks were still shooting into the sky. On exploding the rockets created a peculiar effect in the fog, sparking a diffuse glow that seemed to linger in the tendrils of mist. During one of these bursts of illumination Bahram caught sight of a gowned man, some ten paces ahead. He could only see his back but there was no mistaking his walk.
‘Allow?!’
There was no answer and the fog had gone dark in the meanwhile. But then another rocket exploded overhead and Bahram caught sight of him again. He raised his voice: ‘Allow! Chin-chin! What-for Allow no speakee Mister Barry?’
Again there was no answer.
Bahram was quickening his pace when he heard Vico’s voice, echoing out of the fog: Patrão! Patrão! Where are you?
He turned to see a lamp bobbing in the gloom.
Here, Vico!
Stay there, patrão. Wait.
Bahram came to a stop and a couple of minutes later Vico’s lamplit face loomed out of the fog.
I was coming to fetch you, patrão, said Vico. The lantern-walas weren’t around today and what with the fog and all I thought you might need a light. I was on my way to the Club when I heard your voice. Who was that you were speaking to?
Allow, said Bahram.
Who? Vico’s eyes suddenly grew very large: Who did you say?
Allow. He was right in front of me. Didn’t you see him?
No, patrão.
Vico put a hand on Bahram’s arm and turned him in the direction of the Achha Hong.
It couldn’t have been Allow, patrão. You must have seen someone else.
What do you mean, Vico? said Bahram in surprise. I’m almost sure it was Allow. He was just ahead of me.
Vico shook his head. No, patrão. It must have been someone else.
Why do you keep saying that, Vico? I’m telling you. I saw Allow.
No, patrão, you could not have seen him, said Vico gently. See, patrão, Allow had not run away as we had thought. It turns out that he had been arrested.
Oh? Bahram