The Star of India
Copyright© 2026 by Edward S. Ellis
Chapter 9: The Inglese Loge!
A few minutes later, the latter, standing under the mango tree, saw the dark figures fall apart and gradually draw near them. One tall, sinewy native, carrying a scimeter in his hand, as if led by fate itself, came straight toward the large mango, walking slowly with his serpent eyes darting keen glances in every direction.
Nearer and nearer he advanced, until within three paces, when he stopped. He had discovered the fugitives.
As he stood, the moonlight fell upon his bronzed countenance, and Marian recognized him as Ali Khan, their Mohammedan servant, who had left their house two days before to look after his sick wife.
“Ali,” whispered Marian, “it is the Miss sahib, daughter of the missionary. Won’t you save me?”
Dr. Avery believed the appeal useless, for the presence of this servant among the murderers proved that he was in sympathy with them; but, as is often the case, the impulse of the woman was superior to the reason of the man.
The native recognized the speaker and raised his hand.
“Chup!” (Be silent) he whispered, turning away and moving in another direction.
This proceeding brought him face to face with two other searchers, who were groping under the adjoining trees, and Marian overheard the words that passed:
“Have you found them?” asked Ali Khan.
“They are not near the house; they must be in another part of the garden.
“I have looked under every tree,” was the unblushing remark of Ali Khan, “but they are not there.”
“It is strange; let us make another search.”
“I will help you,” said Ali Khan, in an indifferent voice, “but it is useless. You, Buddao, pass close to the house once more, while Ramchundra and I look to the rear.”
This suggestion was adopted. One of the men was sent to join his comrades in another part of the grounds, quite remote from the fugitives, while Ali Khan, the friendly servant, became one of the two who set out to prowl through the very part of the garden where the fugitives were hiding.
Ali Khan having proved his wish to befriend the Europeans, it now became his delicate and difficult duty to prevent his companion from detecting the deception. He had a double motive for such a course, for if Ramchundra should find the fugitives, it would be such proof of the disloyalty of Ali Khan that the others would undoubtedly kill him.
The friendly native stopped a dozen steps away, turned his back upon the tree which sheltered the fugitives, and looked toward Ramchundra, who was searching among the shrubbery, and gradually drawing near the couple. Unless he was diverted, he would discover them within the next three minutes.
“We are losing time,” said Ali. “I believe now what some of our people said.”
“What was that?” asked Ramchundra, looking up in surprise.
“That they ran down the road to the left.”
“I did not hear that said.”
“Several said it, and many have gone that way to look for them; they will find them while we are here.”
“Likely they spoke truth,” said Ramchundra, who, however, did not show any disposition to give up the search; “but this is such an inviting place that the Inglese would be sure to take advantage of it, if they had the chance.”
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