The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [376]
‘It is not a question of “will not”, but “cannot”. And now, if you will excuse me –’
Ash ignored the request and stayed where he was, arguing, pleading and explaining for a further five minutes. But to no avail, for the Commissioner had merely lost his temper, and having informed him tersely that he was meddling in matters that he did not understand (and that were, in any case, no concern of his) had ended by ordering him to leave immediately or be forcibly removed by the guard.
Ash left, realizing that he had wasted the best part of two hours and that if he had had his wits about him he would have sent off a telegram before attempting to talk to anyone.
The Telegraph Office was closed to the public during the time of the mid-day meal and afternoon siesta, but he routed out an indignant clerk and induced him to send off four urgent telegrams: one to Kaka-ji, another to Jhoti, the third to that same Political Officer who had been so unhelpful in the matter of the Rana's chicanery over the marriage contracts, and finally (in case that obstinate official proved to be as useless now as he had been on that occasion) a fourth to the Honourable the Agent to the Governor-General, Rajputana – familiarly known as the A.G.G. – in Ajmer: an afterthought that was to prove disastrous, though it had seemed an excellent idea at the time. But then Ash had no idea who the present incumbent was, and had not taken the trouble to find out.
It had not been at all easy to cajole the Eurasian telegraph clerk into transmitting these telegrams. The contents of all four had alarmed him, and he had protested strongly against ‘such high matters' being sent in clear. Messages of this kind ought, in his opinion, to be sent in code or not at all. ‘I am telling you, sir, that telegrams, they are not secret things. By no means. They are getting sent on from one tar-khana to another, and veree many cheeky fellows are seeing them by the way – peons and such-like too – and they will be chitter-chattering about them to one and all.’
‘Good,’ said Ash shortly, ‘I'm delighted to hear it. The more talk the better.’
‘But sir -!’ wailed the clerk, ‘there will be much unfortunate gossip and scandal. And what if this Rana-Sahib should not after all die, and you are finding yourself in loads of trouble for misrepresentation and libels and such things? And me too, because I am sending out these accusations? I may be blamed for this and get into hot waters, and if I am losing my job -’
It had taken fifteen minutes and fifty rupees to overcome the clerk's scruples, and the telegrams had been sent. After which Ash had gone to the bungalow of Mr Pettigrew, District Superintendent of Police, in the hope (a faint one by now) that the police might prove more helpful than the military or the civil arm.
Mr Pettigrew had certainly been less sceptical than either Colonel Pomfret or the Commissioner, but he too had pointed out that this was a matter for the authorities in Rajputana, adding that they probably knew a good deal more about what went on there than Lieutenant Pelham-Martyn would seem to think. However he had at least promised to send a personal telegram to a colleague in Ajmer – one Carnaby, who was a personal friend of his.
‘Nothing official, you understand,’ said Pettigrew. ‘One doesn't want to stick one's neck out and sound like a meddling nosey-parker. And to be honest, I can't say that I take this pigeon-post message of yours all that seriously. You'll probably find it's all a hum. On the other hand, it's just possible that there might be something in it, so there's no harm in dropping a hint to Tim Carnaby – just to be on the safe side. He's not the type of fellow who prefers to let sleeping dogs lie, and he'll certainly see that it's looked into. I'll get a wire sent off to him at once, and you can be sure that if anything needs to be done he'll do it.’
Ash thanked him with a good deal of fervour and rode away feeling much easier in his mind. After the agonizing frustration of the morning, it was reassuring to find someone