Devil's Wind

Devil's Wind by Patricia Wentworth

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Authors: Patricia Wentworth
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thicket on this side of the neglected garden. In the distance there was a faint rustling sound that might be the first whisper of a coming breeze. It was far away on the extreme limit of consciousness, but it was there.
    â€œWell, what is it, George?” said Richard Morton at last; and Captain Blake stared at the ceiling and said:
    â€œYou can call it the new cartridge, if you like. They are all playing the fool about that.”
    â€œBut you’ve never got’ em here so soon? The world must be coming to an end if you have.”
    â€œNo, of course we’ve not got them here, but d’ you think a little thing like that is going to stop them? We had half a dozen men at Umballa to learn the new drill, and since they came back at Christmas—”
    â€œWell?”
    Captain Blake crossed his legs.
    â€œOf course I had them up and talked to them like a father, and they agreed with every word I said.”
    â€œBeshak Sahib!” interjected Captain Morton with half a laugh.
    â€œDamn their Beshak,” said Captain Blake, with the hesitation gone clean out of his voice. “I believe the wildest tales have been going round. Pig’s lard, cow’s fat, anything you please, all mixed up to grease this infernal cartridge with.”
    â€œIf they really believe that there will be big trouble,” said Richard Morton quickly.
    â€œWho’s to say what they really believe!”
    â€œWell—” Richard considered. “What about the men who went to Umballa—any of them Brahmins?”
    â€œYes, four of them.”
    â€œHow did the others receive them? Will they eat with them, and so forth?”
    â€œOh, yes, that’s all right.”
    â€œH’m. If they really believed the new drill obliged men to bite cartridges greased with beef fat, they’d have outcasted them.”
    â€œWell, I hear that has happened in other places.”
    â€œThat a fact?”
    â€œEnough of a fact to make the authorities give a whole batch of the Umballa men a month’s leave, and orders to rejoin at the depot—at the depot—afterwards.”
    Captain Morton whistled.
    â€œThat’s bad.”
    â€œDamn bad,” said George Blake, his pensive gaze still fixed on the rafters.
    After a time he looked down, and observed:
    â€œEver seen chupattis passed round, Dick?”
    â€œPassed round?”
    â€œPassed from hand to hand, and from village to village, all over the country.”
    â€œI’ve heard the talk, of course. Has it been going on here?”
    Captain Blake nodded.
    â€œAnd at Cawnpore,” he said, “and round Agra. Everywhere else for all I know.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œJust before you came.”
    â€œWhat do the natives say?”
    â€œThey don’t say anything. There have been lotus leaves passed round in the lines too.”
    Captain Morton put down his pipe.
    â€œLotus leaves?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThat’s queer. I never heard of them.”
    â€œDid you ever hear of chupattis going round—before this, I mean?”
    â€œYes, I did, when I was a child. We were at Mahumdee at the time, and there was a lot of talk. The servants all talked, and of course I took it all in.”
    â€œWhat did they say?”
    â€œThey wondered what was going to happen. Apparently they at once expected something to happen—something calamitous. But they didn’t know what.”
    â€œDid anything happen?”
    â€œYes, a very bad smallpox epidemic.”
    â€œBut how, in Heaven’s name?”
    â€œYes, I know, but it did happen, and every one believed the chupatti had been a warning.”
    Captain Blake looked at his watch.
    â€œWe had better get vaccinated in the morning,” he observed, “and meanwhile we had better go to bed; I’ve got an early parade.”

CHAPTER VIII
    HOW MISS MONSON PAID A CALL
    Have you heard the Piper calling?
    Have you heard the echoes

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