A Secret Society (Spy Thriller). Talbot Mundy

      “My footman returned to the rescue very pluckily,” she went on, “but the Indian threw him under the horses, which frightened them so badly that the coachman had all he could do to keep them from running away. My friend did run away. She has told me since that she ran indoors to get the servants, but by the time she had aroused them I was gone; so she went to bed, and hoped for the best. Philosophic, wasn’t she?”

      Grim was sitting on my right hand. He made no remark, and didn’t change his facial expression; but I did notice a sudden stiffening of his muscles. You’ll see exactly the same thing when an experienced hunter becomes aware of big game creeping out from cover.

      “I don’t know what the Indian intended in the first place.” she continued, “but my scream apparently fired his imagination. He swore terribly in English—said that protecting queens in distress was his only occupation—and jumped into the carriage, shutting the door behind him with a slam that sounded like a big gun going off. That was too much for the horses altogether; they went off at a gallop. Luckily the footman had scrambled out from under their feet, and there is a foot-board behind the carriage; he caught hold of that and climbed on. The carriage went so fast that it was all he could do to hang on, although he tried to climb on the roof and come to my assistance that way; the top of the carriage is smooth and slippery, and the feat proved impossible.

      “Really, it was the worst predicament! it was almost totally dark, but I could see the whites of the Indian’s eyes, and his white teeth gleaming in the middle of his black beard, and I nearly fainted. But he sat down opposite me with his arms folded across his breast, and presently I grew calmer and began to think. You gentlemen, who are used to all sorts of wild adventures, would doubtless have known what to do; but I didn’t.

      “I even began to suspect my coachman and footman of being parties to a plot to carry me off somewhere; and the fact that the Indian did not try to molest me made it seem as if he might be acting on behalf of someone else. I found words at last and asked him in English what he wanted.

      ” ‘Nothing under heaven but your Majesty’s instructions!’ he answered. ‘I am Narayan Singh, your servant. Say but the word, your Majesty, and I will accomplish marvels—I will pull the heads off these Egyptians as a crow pulls worms out of a plowed field! Command me! Set me a task! My honor is involved! I have sworn a vow. Henceforward I serve none but queens!’

      “Can you imagine it? I asked him to stop the horses! I couldn’t think of anything else to tell him to do! I knew by the overpowering smell of whisky that he was intoxicated, but he seemed mad in the bargain. I wanted to get rid of him and I’m afraid the thought occurred to me that he might get killed in making the attempt, although I hardly hoped he would really try.

      “However, he didn’t hesitate for a second. The carriage was swaying all over the street, with the wheels grating against a curbstone one minute and skidding sidewise the next, and it was all I could do to keep my seat, to say nothing of standing up. But he opened the door, climbed out, swung himself up on the box beside the coachman, seized the reins, and tugged at them, discovered that was no use, and jumped on to the back of the near-side horse! Both horses nearly fell, and in the time they had recovered he had their heads together and was tugging them to a standstill! Strength—such strength—he nearly wrenched their heads off! And he brought them to a standstill beside a street lamp at a crossing, trembling and too thoroughly conquered to bolt again whatever happened!

      “The footman jumped down then, and the Indian struck him, calling him names and ordering him to go and stand at the horses’ heads. Then the Indian came to the window and asked what he should do next, and before I could think of anything to tell him to do he was back in the carriage with folded arms, shouting to the coachman to drive on.

      “My servants didn’t obey him at once, and he was going to get out and kill them, I think, so I called to them to drive straight home, thinking I might be able to get rid of the Indian at the gate. But not so. There is a servant who lives in the gate-house. He opened the gate as soon as he heard the carriage coming but before we entered I called out to the coachman to stop, which he did, with the horses’ heads underneath the arch and the carriage outside. Then I thanked the Indian for having protected me and bade him good night. He bowed and got out; but instead of going away he climbed up behind on the foot-board and called to the coachman to drive on in.

      “Nothing would make him get down again. He swore that he was my only protector, and that none should deprive him of the honor. He threatened to pull to pieces anyone who sought to interfere, and used such frightful language, and made such a noise that I was afraid he would wake the whole neighborhood and cause a scandal.

      “It occurred to me that I have an Indian in the house who might be able to manage him—a gentle old philosopher, who used to be my husband’s friend, and whom I have allowed to live here since my husband died, because the house is so big, and he so quiet, and so dependent on charity in his old age, that it would have been hard-hearted not to. He is a wonderful old man. I have seen him calm human passions in a moment by his mere beneficence.

      “So I made the best of an awkward situation by telling the coachman to drive on in. And Narayan Singh entered the house behind me, behaving like a family servitor except that he made more noise than ten ordinary men, and demanded to know which was my apartment, in order that he might lie down across the threshold and protect me. “Narendra Nath—that is the name of my old Indian friend—sleeps very little, spending most of the night on the floor above this one in meditation. I brought Narayan Singh into this room, and sent for Narendra Nath, who seemed to appreciate the situation without my saying anything. He is a very wise old man, and never makes unnecessary fuss. He began talking to Narayan Singh in his own language, and within five minutes the two of them were on their way upstairs together, as friendly as you please.

      “I retired. It was already after dawn, and I needed rest after all that excitement. But déjeuner was brought to me a little after midday, and after my toilet was made I sent for both Indians, hoping to get to the bottom of the affair and perhaps to glean some amusement from it. Believe me, I was more than amused; I was amazed.

      “Narayan Singh, although not yet sober, had begun to return to his senses, and the two men had struck up a strong friendship. The surprising thing was not that Narayan Singh should worship Narendra Nath, for he is a venerable old man, but that Narendra Nath, who has so few friendships, should reciprocate. The two men had sworn to be inseparable, and old Narendra Nath implored me with tears in his eyes to take Narayan Singh into my service.

      “How could I refuse? I would do almost anything to oblige Narendra Nath. But a difficulty arose at once, which seemed to admit of no solution. It seems that Narayan Singh is a deserter from the British Army and liable to arrest for that at any minute. What was to be done? I couldn’t imagine.

      “Narayan Singh spoke constantly of a certain Jimgrim and his two friends Ramsden and Jeremy—he spoke of you tout court—gave you no titles—and he vowed that you could accomplish anything—simply anything—between you. He spent about two hours telling me astonishing stories of your prowess, and it occurred to me at last that possibly you could get him out of the army in some way without his having to pay the penalty for desertion.

      “But the problem then was how to reach you, and how to persuade you to take the necessary action, without letting the Indian’s whereabouts be known. I thought of a hundred methods. I even considered calling on you at Shepheard’s Hotel, where he told me you were staying. But finally I hit on the solution of getting Narayan Singh to write a letter, and sending my carriage for you, hoping that perhaps curiosity would induce you where persuasion might have failed.

      “However, the task of persuading remains, doesn’t it! Can you arrange it, Major Grim, that Narayan Singh shall be discharged from the British Army, so that he may enter my service?”

      Her smile as she asked that favor was the product of experience. She had tried it on a thousand different sorts of men, and used it now confidently. But Grim is a dry old rock, for all his vein of kindness.

      “If I could see Narayan Singh himself, alone—” he suggested. And she found him harder to refuse than he did her, because his request