‘Lily, I don’t want to have to bed down outside your room every night but if it comes to that you know I will! If I have the slightest suspicion that your, er, peace of mind is being threatened by anyone . . . anyone . . . I shall take steps.’
‘Joe, thanks for the offer but my, er, peace of mind is quite robust enough to take care of itself,’ she said and darted ahead in the direction of the guest wing.
Joe was overtaken by James and they walked along together, discussing the evening. As they went through the front door, Joe paused. Something had changed. Looking about he noticed that Minto’s kennel had disappeared.
‘What have you done with Minto?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry to say I’ve had to remove him lock, stock and kennel up to our room. I had two complaints this morning, complaints on the grounds of hygiene and noise. The first was from Burroughs. He’s convinced the dog is suffering from some sort of Indian dog disease – rabies or some such – and is afraid he’ll pass it on to him. He’s of the opinion that this is what killed Zeman and can’t understand why Grace is not taking his opinion seriously.’
‘And the second?’
‘Lord Rathmore. Claims the dog rushes out and makes a noise every time he walks by his kennel and this is a serious restriction on Rathmore’s freedom of movement. Freedom of movement! Why he wants to creep around unobserved I’ve no idea. Not the sort of chap who would make off with the regimental silver in the night, is he?’
‘Just the sort of chap! Minto’s a good judge of character.’
‘Well, I’m not happy with the new arrangements I can tell you! What we’ve got up there now is a ménage à trois – in which I come a bad troisième.’
A light tap on his door woke Joe at dawn the next day. The orderly who stood there was obviously in the grip of a barely contained excitement. His message was that Joe should go down to the main gates at once where he would find James. ‘There is trouble, sahib,’ he added. ‘Much, much trouble!’
Chapter Nine
James, in the light of flares, was calling out orders to a group of men. ‘Trackers! Limited reconnaissance. Out for five minutes then return and report initial findings. Eddy – have them picketed, will you? This could be a trap and none of my men are walking into it unprotected. And, Eddy, prepare to take out a full gasht. Muster here in thirty minutes. Now where are the second watch sentries? Line them up. Picket gate sentries? Well, look harder and further! Joe!’ He walked over to Joe, grim, alert, every inch the commanding officer.
‘What the hell’s going on, James?’
‘The Afghanis have disappeared. Decamped in the night. No idea yet why, when or how. But we soon will have. Come and hear the sentries with me, will you?’
Translating for Joe he gave the gist of the men’s story. ‘No trouble in the night on any of the watches. The bloke on the 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. is the most interesting. Apparently the Afghanis were chattering and even singing round their fires until late in the night. All sounds ceased at 1 a.m. but the fires continued to burn. He didn’t hear thirty-five horses clattering off in the night. We’ll go out and have a look, shall we? But, just for once, arm yourself, will you?’
James and Joe walked, revolver in hand, through the gates and round the corner of the fort until they reached the football field encampment. Fires were collapsing into piles of white ash and embers in front of tents which looked as though they still housed sleeping soldiers. A glance up at the fortifications told Joe that they were being covered from every angle by watchful riflemen as they made their way around the encampment.
‘I can’t see how thirty-five horses and thirty-one men and two pack mules could have got away without someone being aware of it,’ said Joe.
‘You don’t know Pathans,’ said James. ‘They can fade into the night without a sound. This is how I think they did it. Look.’ He pointed to the beginnings of a trail of horses’ hooves only just becoming visible in the strengthening light, heading towards the tarmacked road to the Khyber. ‘See, it’s one set of hooves overlying another, not spread out on a wide front. I think a few men made a racket to cover the departure of the rest of the troop who must have set off one at a time, let’s say at one-minute intervals, so that all there ever was to hear was a single horse at any time and never a horde of thirty-five. They could have cleared the camp in under an hour. I’ve sent trackers to make a preliminary survey and we’ll hear what they have to say in a minute or two.’