Death to the Landlords

Four

Thekady: Monday Morning

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Patti came out of her sedated sleep reluctantly and sluggishly, to sense the white of day outside her eyelids; and for a while she lay without opening them, unwilling to face the world. But even inside her own closed mind she could still see the obscene horror of abrupt death, the mangled body stirring rhythmically and helplesssly in the water, the upturned face with blood and mud for eyes. A man who, according to Romesh, had hired thugs to attack and kill, simply to suppress a demand for better pay. Remember that, too… This is a dirty world, and nothing is ever simple. But to kill that way, from a safe distance, and not caring in the least about the wretched, innocent boat-boy, who had never hired thugs to kill anyone, and owned no land. There are things which can never be justified…

She knew she would have to open her eyes at last, and get up and dress, but she waited until she heard the soft rustle of Priya’s cotton sari, and knew that her friend was already up and busy, and maintaining this considerate silence only on her account. Then she lifted her lids resolutely, and sat up in bed. Priya was standing in front of the mirror, braiding her long black hair. She had on a low-necked white blouse and an amber-and-gold sari this morning; and the soiled sari she must have washed last night, and draped in the shower-room to dry. She turned quickly at the slight sound, and smiled at her room-mate composedly, if a little anxiously.

‘Good morning! How do you feel today?’

‘Doped,’ said Patti truthfully. But not, she thought, heavily enough; I can still see him. ‘And stupid. And ashamed. I’m sorry I was such a dead liability yesterday. But I’d never seen – never imagined – anything like that. Even if you tried to describe it, to someone who’d never actually seen such a thing, it wouldn’t mean anything. But when you run your nose right into it…’

‘I know,’ said Priya warmly. ‘It was not your fault at all. Don’t think about it any more – at least try not to think about it.’

‘It’ll be a long time before I stop,’ Patti said wryly. ‘Priya – how do you ever manage? I mean, in a casualty department, when these things are brought in – hit-and-run victims, gang killings, knifings in fights – all that… How do you set about keeping your cool? Or do you just get used to it in time?’

‘No, you do not get used to it,’ Priya said almost with asperity. ‘Or rather, perhaps you do and you don’t, because if you don’t – in one way – you can’t bear to go on being a nurse, and if you do – in the other way – you had much better stop, because you’re not fit to be a nurse. Your mind gets used to it, and then you can use your faculties to try and combat it. But your heart never gets used to it, and you never stop being hurt.’ She added deprecatingly, suddenly aware of her own warmth: ‘It is not for everyone, of course, why should it be?’

‘Not for me,’ said Patti with decision. She swung her feet to the floor, and sat on the edge of her bed. In the corner of the ceiling a tiny jade-green gecko clung upside-down, motionless but for the slow lift and fall of transparent eyelids, and the pulse in his throat, which vibrated almost too rapidly to be seen. Harmless, mysterious, jewel-like little things. The more I see of men, the more I like animals! But we’re all caught, aren’t we? You can’t resign, once you’re born.

‘He seems to have been guilty of some deaths himself,’ Priya said, attempting comfort that seemed to her quite irrelevant, but might make a difference for Patti. ‘It is not only Romesh, I have been asking. Everyone knows the story, and most people believe it was he who was responsible for that attack. And it was a very bad case – one family was burned in its hut. But the raiders got away, and no one can prove anything.’

‘No,’ Patti agreed, reviving, ‘I gathered he wasn’t a very nice man.’ She got up and pattered across barefoot to the shower-room, suddenly brisk and resolute, as if she had made up her mind about facing both today and yesterday, and had to take the plunge now, and violently, or lose the initiative altogether. ‘Do you suppose Inspector Raju’s still here? I’ve got to see him…’

‘Just a minute,’ Priya called back from the bedroom. “There’s someone at the door. ‘ And she went to open it, to find herself confronting a sleepy but still debonair Sergeant Gokhale. Even after a sleepless night he was not so tired that he could not take pleasure in the sight of a good-looking girl fresh and spruce from her morning toilet, and not so devoted to duty that he could not make use of his eyes and his smile to convey his pleasure.

‘I hope I’m not disturbing you too soon, Miss Madhavan. Inspector Raju would like to speak to you in his office – the room he was using last night. But at your convenience, there is no hurry.’

‘Thank you, it’s quite convenient now. I will come.’ And she called towards the shower-room: ‘The inspector wants to see me. I won’t be long. Do take down that sari, if it’s in your way.’

‘I already have. All right,’ said Patti’s voice, half-resigned and half-relieved, ‘after you!’

She was dressing when Priya came back. She came in very softly and quietly, as was her way, and began to collect up her night things without a word, her hands competent and quick as ever; and it took Patti several minutes to realise that there was a different quality about this silence, a private tension, not at all out of hand – she had never seen any emotion get out of hand in Priya so far – but nevertheless troublous and dismaying. Then, looking up with carefully screened attention through the drift of her fair hair as she brushed it, she saw tears overflow slowly from the dark eyes. She dropped her brush and was across the room in an instant.

‘Priya, what is it, what’s the matter? What did he want with you?’ She flung an arm round the slender, straight shoulders, and then, in terror that her touch was too familiar and would be unwelcome even in these circumstances, snatched it away again. And Priya smiled faintly but genuinely, and smudged the tears away again. No new ones followed them.

‘It’s all right – that is, it isn’t anything unexpected. I didn’t look for anything else. But I told you, it never gets any more bearable when you lose one…’

‘But what’s that inspector been doing to you?’

‘He is very kind, and it was nice of him to think of telling me. Of course he knew it was what I really expected, but how did he know, then, that it still mattered so much?’

‘But what did he say to you?’ Patti persisted furiously.

‘He sent for me to tell me that Ajit Ghose is dead.’

‘Oh, no!’ Patti whispered.

‘But of course! It was foolish to consider any other possibility, because practically speaking there was no other possibility. But still one tries. He died on the operating table. They got him so far alive.’

‘Then he never spoke? He never had the chance to tell them anything?’

‘He never recovered consciousness at all.’ She went on assembling her belongings in a neat pile, and looked round the room to make sure nothing had been forgotten. ‘After breakfast I think he means to let us all leave. I mean the inspector, of course. He was most kind. He tried to comfort me by telling me something more – that it is perhaps as well that Ajit Ghose died. He said I could also tell you, if I thought it would help to compose your mind.’

‘I shall be seeing him,’ Patti said, staring sombrely into her own thoughts.

‘He says it isn’t necessary, unless you wish it. Besides, it really does seem unnecessary now. He told me that Ajit Ghose came from Bengal only a month or so ago, just as Romesh told us, and it was true that he asked for the duties to be changed so that he could go with Mr Bakhle’s boat. Romesh thought it was for the sake of a big tip, but now it seems he may have had other reasons.’

Patti’s eyes changed their focus, stared at the incredible idea, and turned then to stare at Priya. ‘You mean that he planted…? The boat-boy himself? Of course I see he was the only one who could do it without any difficulty or risk at all, but then… No risk! My God, I’m crazy! Why, it would be suicide!’

‘Well, not quite, as they see it. Though if they’re right he must have been willing to accept the risk of suicide. They say he was a fine swimmer, he may have intended to slip overboard and swim clear before the explosion, but he would need to leave it until the last few minutes, you see. And as it turns out, the bomb was a little faulty. It went off ten minutes before time.’

Patti pondered, wide-eyed, wringing her hands restlessly in the lap of her demure shirt-dress. Her face was quite blank, her pale pupils fixed. ‘But they must have more than that, to be so sure. There must be something else they know.’

‘Yes, there is. They’ve been going through his things. People like Ajit don’t have much – a few clothes, a blanket, a bed-roll, maybe a pot or two, a few books if they’re literate. He was – barely, but he had one or two books. One was “Shakuntala” – you know it? In among the pages they found several Naxalite leaflets and some Maoist literature. It is what they expected. What they were looking for.’

Patti sat quite still and silent, gazing before her. ‘And you think,’ she said, ‘that it’s really true? They’re sure of it? He threw his own life away to make sure of taking Bakhle’s life? Then he wasn’t just the pathetic, innocent victim I thought he was? My God!’ she said, more to herself than to Priya, ‘It’s terrifying!’

‘He thought it would put my mind at rest,’ Priya said with a rueful smile. ‘The inspector, I mean. So that I should know that, too – that he wasn’t just an innocent victim, that he died as the result of his own act. He thought it would make a difference!’

‘Doesn’t it?’ demanded Patti, astonished. ‘It does to me.’

‘It doesn’t to me, not very much. I told you, you never get used to losing one. What he may have done doesn’t make much difference. Except that he might have lived to die a worse way. Shouldn’t we go and see if the men are up? They were going to sleep in the Land-Rover – there weren’t enough rooms.’

Patti rose slowly, like one still in a dream. ‘You are incredible! I’m frightened of you, and I envy you, you know that? I can believe in you dying for a cause – without any heroics, either, just in cold blood – like Ajit Ghose!’ A sudden thought struck her, and she halted with her hand on the handle of the door. ‘He was telling you quite a lot, wasn’t he, this inspector! Do you think he’s going to let everybody know? That his case is successfully closed already?’

‘I think,’ said Priya, considering, ‘that he may. Perhaps for a reason of his own.’

‘Oh? What do you mean by that?’

‘I think,’ she said carefully, ‘that Inspector Raju has his reservations. Yes, he surely believes that this is the truth about Mr Bakhle’s assassination. There seems no doubt about that. But not the whole truth. You see, this was only a half-educated man, however intelligent he may have been…’

‘And however fanatically devoted. Yes, I see that. It takes specialist knowledge to make bombs.’

‘Yes. Could Ajit Ghose have done all this quite alone? So by letting it be known that the case is closed, I think Inspector Raju is setting out to put someone else at his ease, too – and off his guard.’

At breakfast in the hotel dining-room, when most of the delayed travellers were already present, Inspector Raju made his announcement. First in Tamil, then in English, for the benefit of the foreign element, which even included a couple of innocent Germans, late arrivals and pathetically ignorant of all that was going on. In halting German Larry translated for the hapless engineers from some northern hydro-electric undertaking:

‘Everyone present is now at liberty to proceed, subject to leaving with the police particulars of exactly where he can be contacted in the new few days, if it should be necessary. The case is now satisfactorily concluded, but we may need to get in touch with certain witnesses in connection with the detailed documentation of the events of yesterday. Will everyone who is ready to leave please report first to the police office on the premises. Thank you!’

Madame Bessancourt, without a word, rolled up her knitting and put it away in the capacious black bag that never left her side. Monsieur Bessancourt, with the same deliberation, picked up his Panama hat in one band and their overnight portmanteau in the other, and they were ready. The first to be ready, as they had been the most patient and imperturbable during the delay. Police matters were to be accepted and respected in every country, but no need to waste time once the release was given. They passed by the table where Larry’s party sat at breakfast, and performed their ritual bow as gravely as always.

‘Are you heading back towards Madurai?’ Larry asked, by way of making conversation in passing.

‘No, we are going on to Kottayam, and then down the coast to Quilon and Trivandrum.’ Monsieur Bessancourt glanced down at the folded map in his breast pocket as if for confirmation. ‘And on to the Cape afterwards. And you?’

‘The other way. We go back on our tracks nearly to Madurai, then south towards Tirunelveli. Later we shall be going on to the Cape, too.’

‘Then perhaps we may meet there,’ said Madame graciously. Inevitably, Dominic thought. Nobody is going to be touring this near to Cape Comorin, and not go the rest of the way, and by any route the distance is much the same. The odds are we shall all meet there.

‘We must go and tell our plans to the inspector. It is tragic that this beautiful place had to be spoiled by such an act. And for your so terrible experience I am sorry. I hope you can forget what you could not help. Au ’voir, messieurs – mesdames!’

They all murmured their thanks and appreciation, and wished the departing travellers: ‘Bon voyage!’ And the indomitable pair disappeared duly into the little office, recorded their time-table, walked out to their battered blue Ford and drove away.

The Manis had come in too late to hear the announcement; only Sushil Dastur, fussing anxiously about their table and exerting himself to make sure the tea and eggs should be just as they preferred them, listened with patent relief and gratitude, glad to have good news to relay to his employers as soon as they appeared. Theirs, after all, had been the worst situation; had they not spent the entire morning in the boat in which the bomb had been planted? Naturally they had all protested their horrified innocence, and exonerated one another, but all the same they must have spent an acutely uneasy night.

‘Even we,’ Larry remarked, ‘should have been feeling pretty queasy, if all five of us hadn’t spent the entire day together – barring the odd private moment, of course. An example of safety in numbers.’

Sudha Mani fluttered into the dining-room at last looking the worse for a restless night, her pretty face rather puffy and pale, her husband treading heavily after her, as though unusually deflated and tired. If he had not had good news to relay, Sushil Dastur would probably have been suffering for their discomforts. As it was, the watchers could see from across the room the sudden glow of relaxation and ease as Mr and Mrs Mani heard that they were free to leave; and in a very few moments the old assurance and self-esteem began visibly to re-inflate their sagging curves. Sudha reached for the tea-pot, and with recovered appetite they attacked the eggs that were set before them. To judge from their distant exchanges, seen but not overheard, they even had heart to reproach Sushil Dastur for the cook’s shortcomings before they dispatched him, fairly obviously, to see their luggage portered back to the hired car, their bill paid, and the Tamil driver aroused from his semi-permanent repose in the back seat. They meant to lose no time in getting away from this place which had promised so radiantly and performed so viciously. No doubt they regretted ever hearing the name of the distinguished Mahendralal Bakhle, let alone bringing a letter of introduction to him.

‘I suppose we’d better pack up and get out of here, too,’ Larry said.

‘I’ll go and settle the bills,’ said Lakshman, rising.

The girls, in slightly embarrassed haste, began a duet of insistence on paying their share, but Larry quashed that at once, or at least postponed all consideration of it. ‘Later – don’t bother now. Lakshman will pay everything, and we can think about it later. After all, there’s no hurry, you’re coming down with us as far as the railway. Go ahead, Lakshman, and we’ll go and check out with the inspector.’

They had to pass close by the Manis’ table on their way across the dining-room, and Sudha, just recovering her volubility in full, halted them with an appealing hand.

‘Can you imagine what people are saying! – Think how terrible for us! It was that boatman! – Yes, right in the boat with us all that time, and looking like any other boat-boy, so quiet and willing. And we could have been blamed – such a dreadful position we were in.’

‘I’m sure the inspector didn’t suspect you,’ Dominic said soothingly. ‘Naturally he had to question all of us.’

‘Yes, but even now we must tell him where we are going, where we can be found… Why should that be, if it was that boat-boy?’

‘That is mere routine,’ said Gopal Krishna comfortably. ‘Even if there is no arrest and no trial, because the man is dead, still they must file the records of the case. And suppose they should want to confirm some detail of the time with us? Or with Mr Preisinger here? It is the same for all.’

‘That’s it exactly,’ Larry confirmed soothingly.

‘You are going on towards the coast?’ asked Mani.

‘No, back towards Madurai.’

‘We, too, of course, the car we have hired there, we must return it Then we think of going out by train to Rameshwaram for one or two nights, before going on south.’

‘I am so thankful,’ Sudha said fervently, ‘that they found out so quickly it was that boat-boy. Imagine, he had Naxalite propaganda hidden away in his belongings. I ask you, did that man look like a terrorist? You cannot any longer trust anyone or anything,’

‘Hush, my dear, don’t distress yourself,’ murmured Gopal Krishna, patting her plump amber hand. ‘It is all over now. You must forget about it.’

‘That is so easy to say,’ she protested fretfully, ‘but it is not so easy to forget one has sat in the same boat with a murderer.’

‘Two murderers,’ Larry corrected cynically, but only in a whisper, and not until they had moved on from the table and could not possibly be overheard. ‘One with money, one with none. One who hired thugs to do the job for him, the other who did it himself, and felt so strongly about it that he made sure by killing himself as well. But you know which of the two she’d retain some respect for, don’t you?’

‘Ah, so you’re off already,’ said Inspector Raju, looking up at them over a table strewn with papers, the debris of a hasty breakfast, and the cigarette-butts of a sleepless night overflowing from two glass ashtrays. He had discarded his tie and his jacket, and his lank, greying hair stood on end in all directions from the activities of his long, thin fingers. Even Sergeant Gokhale looked less immaculate than on the previous evening. ‘No doubt you have heard by now how this affair has come out? Now it only remains for me to wish you a good journey wherever you are going, and happier arrivals than this one has been.’ He did not look at Dominic with any more pointed significance than at the rest of them; the conversation of yesterday might as well never have taken place.

‘Is it quite certain that this man Ghose was responsible?’ Larry asked curiously.

‘Miss Madhavan did not confide in you all?’ The inspector looked at Priya with a small, glimmering smile. ‘What admirable discretion! But yes, it is generally known by this time. Why not? We have found ample evidence in the dead man’s possessions that he was deeply involved with the Naxalite terrorists, and the head boatman confirms that it was at Ghose’s request that he changed round the duties for yesterday. There is not much room for doubt.’

All very decisive and satisfactory, Dominic thought, meeting the placid grey eyes. A case quickly and tidily solved, and a nice clear field ahead for that other person, the one who supplied the bullets but did not fire them, to lower his guard and emerge from cover, like the animals crossing that treeless belt of scrub grass to reach the water. Where, if he happens to be anyone present here, someone who has appeared only as an innocent bystander in this lake atrocity, he will not only afford the police a good view of him, but will also be on a long lead and ready to be hauled in at will. Because they’re going to know where every one of us is – or says he’s going to be – for the next few days, longer if they feel like continuing the supervision; and they’re going to be checking that we really are where we say we are.

‘I think,’ said Priya, looking hesitantly at Patti, ‘that Miss Galloway wanted to speak with you. Inspector.’

‘At your service, Miss Galloway. I hope you are feeling better this morning?’

For once Patti looked disconcerted, even stammered a little. ‘Thank you, I’m quite all right It was only that I rather thought you would want to talk to me, since I made such a fool of myself keeling over like that last night. I don’t suppose I can add much to what the others told you, but I thought you’d probably want to see me, anyhow.’

‘That was very correct of you. But I think there is no need to trouble you any more. Now if you will give us particulars of your future movements, Sergeant Gokhale will note them down.’ He pushed back his chair from the table, and stretched out his long legs with a tired but well-satisfied sigh. ‘You are all going on together for the time being?’

‘From here, yes,’ Priya said, after a pause to allow Patti to take the initiative if she chose, and a quick, shy glance at Larry. ‘Mr Preisinger has been kind enough to offer us a lift down to the railway line at Tirumangalam, and from there we are going to take the train to Tenkasi Junction. By this evening we shall be in Kuttalam – Patti wanted to see the resort there, and the Chittar Falls. But we don’t yet know where we shall be staying. If there is room at the travellers’ bungalow we shall stay there overnight, perhaps tomorrow night, too. We could report there to the police, if that will do, and say where we are living. Then the next day we shall go by train to Tirunelveli, and by the bus to Nagarcoil, and there we shall be staying with my parents. I will give you the address.’ She recited it gravely, and Sergeant Gokhale wrote it down.

‘Thank you, that is quite sufficient. And Mr Preisinger and Mr Felse?’

‘After we drop the girls,’ Larry said, ‘We’re going on by the Tirunelveli road to a spot near Koilpatti. It’s a village you reach by a minor road, slightly higher up in the foothills. What’s the name of it, Dom?’

‘Malaikuppam. It’s on my account that we’re making this detour. I have to visit somebody there, and we’re invited to stay a couple of nights. We ought to reach the place early this evening, with any luck, so we shall be there tonight and tomorrow night. I don’t know what he calls his house, but it’s the main house of the village. Our host’s name is Purushottam Narayanan.’

‘I see. And you will be there two nights. And then?’

‘Then,’ said Larry, ‘we go on to Nagarcoil and the Cape. Probably in one day, it’s no distance, not more than a hundred and twenty miles. We shall stay at the Cape hotel at least one night, maybe two. If you could give us a telephone number, we can report any changes direct, or go to the local police as you wish.’

‘No need to do either until you leave the Cape, but in any case I will give you the telephone number of my own office, in case you need me.’ He smiled as he quoted it for them to take down; a slightly oblique and unamused smile. ‘Thank you, that is all. I wish you all good travelling and safe arrival.’

‘Just a minute! Please…!’ Patti broke in quickly and eagerly. ‘Could I… If Priya doesn’t mind, I should like to change our plans. But it depends on Mr Preisinger, really.’ She turned to look appealingly at Larry. ‘Could you bear it if we asked to travel on with you, instead of going by train? I know I did say I wanted to see the Chittar Falls, and this Kuttalam place in the hills, but after what’s happened here, honest to God, I’d be so much happier with a safe escort. And you see, I didn’t realise until now that you were actually going through Nagarcoil. If you can possibly put up with us for a couple of days more, and take us all the way to Priya’s folks, I’d gladly do without the Chittar Falls.’

‘But, Patti, they are going to stay with a friend,’ Priya objected, mildly shocked at this bold asking.

‘I know, but surely there’d be a dak bungalow or a rest house somewhere near, where we could bed down. We wouldn’t be in the way, honestly.’

There was no way of knowing whether Larry objected bitterly or welcomed the suggestion, for his face was never particularly expressive, and at this moment he was caught at a disadvantage. They had, after all, joined forces more or less by chance in the first place, and none of them had expected the alliance to continue. More embarrassing still was the fact that Priya had entered her protest so promptly, and deprived him of the opportunity of appearing genuinely warm about the prospect; he should have spoken up immediately or not at all. Not that it made any real difference, except to his self-assurance, for there was still only one thing he could do, and he did it with the best grace he could achieve.

‘Of course, we’ll be delighted to take you. No difficulty whatever about the transport end of it. And if accommodation is short, we can always camp again. How about it, Dom? Do you think this friend of yours would be very much put out if five of us descended on him instead of three? He never turned a hair at taking on Lakshman and me.’

‘He isn’t exactly a friend of mine,’ Dominic said scrupulously, ‘not yet, anyhow. I’ve never set eyes on him. But his father was a friend of my boss, and the son’s asking for our help and advice with his land, not being in the least prepared for the job. His father was only in the late forties, he didn’t expect to have to give his mind to running the estates for years and years yet. From all I can gather, a dozen people could descend on the place and hardly be noticed, but perhaps I’d better call him up and explain the situation first.’

‘Oh, no,’ protested Priya, colouring to a warm peach-colour which was her version of a blush. ‘Please, you must not ask him for hospitality for us, that is too much.’

‘I won’t ask. Except, perhaps, whether there’s a travellers bungalow or a small Indian hotel anywhere within reach. But you mustn’t grudge him the possibility of offering,’ he said, half teasing her, something he wouldn’t have ventured to do yesterday. And she smiled briefly but brightly, instead of remaining grave and slightly distressed; another thing which would not have happened yesterday. They had travelled a long and by no means obvious way in twenty-four hours.

‘Settle it with Mr Narayanan,’ said Inspector Raju tolerantly, ‘and let me know.’

Dominic was back from the telephone a few minutes later with the answer he had confidently expected.

‘We are all invited most warmly.’ Purushottam’s words, not his own, delivered with both constraint and ceremony in the purest of pure English, straight from Cambridge but rooted deep, deep in the soil and rock of India. He had heard the voice once before, but as yet had never seen the face and form that went with it, and he wondered often and curiously what he was going to find in the flesh. All he knew was that Purushottam Narayanan was a year or so his junior, and had been studying in England until his father died, and tipped him headlong into the vexed affairs of a large, wealthy, but recently somewhat neglected estate. To judge by his telephone manner, classical English was something he lived with intimately, awake and asleep, but colloquial English had made no mark on him so far. ‘Don’t worry about anything, Priya, he means it and he’ll enjoy it. Don’t forget he’s just bereaved, newly home after several years in England and he must feel like a maladjusted alien. A little company will do him good.’

‘It is most kind of him,’ said Priya, not altogether happily, but with a reconciled smile. And her peach-bloom blush deepened to a dark rose-colour. ‘He must have much on his mind. We shall try not to disturb him more than we need.’

‘Good, then that is settled,’ said Inspector Raju briskly, ‘and we can contact you all at Malaikuppam.’ Sergeant Gokhale amended his notes accordingly. ‘A good journey! I hope you may also have an uneventful one from now on. One such experience is more than enough.’

They went out to the freshness and radiance of a fine morning, and the Land-Rover standing waiting with a bonnet starred and sticky with honeyed droppings from the flowering trees.

Dominic came round from the kitchens with a box full of prepared food and fruit he had taken thought to order on rising, in case they should find it more convenient to picnic on the way. There were little three-cornered pastry cases stuffed with vegetables, and crisp pancakes sprinkled with paprika, the dough-cake type of bread called nan, and joints of chicken fried in golden batter. And fruits of all kinds, and a bottle of boiled water. No need now to go in to the railway junction at Tirumangalam; they would save a little time, and eat better with these provisions than at any restaurant they were likely to encounter on the way, not to mention being able to choose the place, the shade and the view.

Outside the back door Romesh Iyar squatted on his heels, strapping up a meagre bed-roll which presumably contained all his portable goods. Today he was not in his white tunic and turban, but wore khaki shorts and a bush shirt, and his curly hair fell in black ringlets over his intent forehead. As Dominic’s shadow fell upon him he looked up, and showed a resolute but thoughtful and wary face, which mellowed into an ingratiating smile of recognition.

‘Namaste, Felse sahib! You go Madurai now?’ He had been well tipped, and was well-disposed, but he did not look particularly happy. ‘I go away, too. I go by the bus soon.’

‘You’re leaving here? Leaving your job?’

Romesh rotated his head fervently from side to side in violent figure-eights of affirmation, and showed the whites of his large eyes. ‘I not stay here now, this is bad place. I not stay here where boat-boy gets killed. I tell inspector sahib, tell boss, too. This place no good for me any more, so I go.’

‘But it’s over now. It’s all over, nothing more will happen. It was a good job, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t quit just for that.’

Romesh hoisted his wide, lean shoulders under the baggy bush-jacket and set his jaw. ‘No good here for me now. I not stay here, not like it here. Must go.’

‘And Inspector Raju knows you’re leaving?’

‘Oh, yes, sahib, I tell him, and he say O. K. I report to policeman night and morning, then everything O. K. I tell him where I go, and he say all right.’

‘And where will you go? What will you do?’ Dominic fished out the small coins from his pocket. ‘You’re going to need bus fare. Here, put this away!’

Romesh pocketed the coins in his turn with a slightly brighter smile and a bob of thanks. ‘I go see my brother in Tenkasi, maybe they got job for me on railway. If that no good, I try in Quilon or Trivandrum. Every day I tell police where I stay, do everything they say. Only I not stay here.’

He had made up his mind, and nothing would change it. He squatted patiently and doggedly beside his bundle, and settled down to wait for the daily bus, his back already turned on Thekady and the Periyar Lake.

‘Well, good luck!’ said Dominic, and went on to join his companions.

On the way down the forest serpentines on the eastern side of the range they made a brief halt below the forestry bungalow, so that Larry could get his slides of the Siva stele among the trees. The light was clear and brilliant, the conditions perfect; and now that they were clear of the lingering shadow of the tragedy at Thekady they were all recovering their spirits and beginning to look forward again instead of back. Only Patti was rather quiet; still slightly dopey after her sedatives, she admitted, and perhaps also anxious to make it clear, since she had more or less extorted this invitation, that she intended to be as unobtrusive and as little trouble as possible.

The fruit-stall was there in its usual place below, lavish as a harvest festival. Only the sadhu was missing; there was no one sitting beside the lingam in the shade of the trees, and not even a flattened patch in the grass to show he had ever been there.