The Palace Tiger

Chapter Sixteen

A name was on the tip of Joe’s tongue.

The urge to answer the doctor’s question and indulge with him in a little fervid speculation was almost overwhelming. He sensed that Sir Hector would have been a lively co-conspirator, perfectly willing to listen to his outrageous suggestion and talk through it with him. A vision of Charlie Carter back in Simla came to Joe and he found he was missing the superintendent’s salty common sense and his local knowledge, missing his companionship and support. But silence, for the moment, was his only recourse. He fought back his own excitement at the laying of a further brick in the foundation of his theory. If he reasoned rightly, the enormity of his revelation would be such that it could only be allowed to reach the ear of one man: the man who held the invisible reins of power in India, the éminence grise behind the Viceroy — Sir George Jardine. But Joe was not yet so certain of the identity of the killer of the ruler’s sons that he could alert Sir George.

He was aware of the danger of building on one idea to the exclusion of all others and was determined that the seductive completeness and simplicity of his theory would not cut him off from other avenues of enquiry. He was frustrated by his powerlessness to conduct an investigation by the book. His brief restricted him to cruising around this alien crime scene, picking up bits of information from whoever was willing to divulge them. And he was not deceived — some of the facts and impressions confided to him might well have been as misdirecting and distracting as the swift brown hands of the child conjuror in Surigargh.

He sighed and thanked Sir Hector for his evidence and for sharing his concerns with him. He reassured him once more that his actions had been exactly what Scotland Yard would have approved and begged his continued discretion. As he prepared to leave, he was struck by a sudden thought. ‘Sir Hector, can you tell me. . not sure how intimate you are with the royal family. . can you tell me whether Bishan was married? What his family circumstances were?’

The old physician looked puzzled for a moment then replied slowly, ‘Yes, of course, I can see why you’d want to know that and perhaps it takes a fresh eye to look at the situation from that angle. I believe he had a wife but I don’t remember hearing of any offspring.’ He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable then added, ‘Doesn’t have the reputation of being a terribly uxorious fellow, if you take my meaning. But you’d need to ask someone closer to the family than I, Sandilands. Being a medic — you know, you get out of the habit of gossiping. Sorry, old man. . I’d like to help.’ Thoughtfully he said, ‘And this means that now Udai will never see a grandchild. Pity, that. He’s quite a patriarch at heart. . they all are.’

As Joe nodded goodbye, Sir Hector, on impulse, seized him by the hand.

‘Now look here, Sandilands — you will keep in mind the fact that the ruler has a third son to lose, won’t you? It would be unbearable if anything were to happen to that bright young chap.’

Joe considered for a moment and then replied, ‘Don’t concern yourself, sir. I have a feeling that young Bahadur is safe enough. Now.’

Govind was already waiting by the door to take Joe on to his next meeting. A quick visit to his own quarters enabled him to shower and rub himself down and exchange his sweat-stained shirt and trousers for the fresh ones which had been laid out on his bed. Linen trousers, white shirt, a club tie that he could not instantly identify and a discreet blazer borrowed and adapted from Sir George’s stock, he noted. This seemed to be a formal enough occasion and in England he would have arrived on Lois’s doorstep clutching a bunch of flowers, but here? He wondered what was the custom.

‘Govind? Should I take a small gift for my hostess? What do you think?’

‘Sahib, I think Mrs Vyvyan would welcome, would even expect a small token. Not flowers perhaps as she has surrounded herself with them. .’ He thought for a moment while Joe waited expectantly for the elusive word. ‘Bounteously!’ he added, pleased with his adverb. ‘You will see! But madam does enjoy reading. And anything that comes from Home is always eagerly accepted.’ He smiled, looked calculatingly at Joe and decided to go further. ‘I believe that the sahib has amongst his luggage one or two copies of books, recent ones, by her favourite author. She would be delighted to find herself the recipient of, shall we say, Jill the Reckless by P.G. Wodehouse.’

Joe grinned. ‘Well, luckily I’ve just finished reading it. Good thought, Govind! And perhaps it should be accompanied by The Indiscretions of Archie for Mr Vyvyan?’

Privately, he wondered how many of this author’s books Govind had himself devoured.

While Joe put the finishing touches to his outfit, Govind located the books and carefully tied them up with a ribbon by which they might be carried since the dark blue dye of the covers would undoubtedly smudge if they came into contact with a hot hand, he explained. Not for the first time, Joe wondered at the courtesy and high efficiency he encountered everywhere in India and asked himself how on earth he was going to manage his affairs back home in his flat overlooking the Thames. He contrasted the stately, all-knowing Govind and his impeccable arrangements with portly Mrs Jago who twice a week rolled up her sleeves, adjusted her pinny and did battle with the smuts deposited on his rooms by the neighbouring Lots Road power station.

Catching Govind’s surreptitious glance at his watch, Joe hurried to present himself, noting that as they were a good fifteen minutes ahead of the lunch appointment, the Vyvyans’ quarters must be at some distance from his own.

‘Far to go, Govind?’ Joe asked, walking smartly down the corridor of the New Palace alongside his escort.

‘Quite far, sahib. But a pleasant walk. To the north of the Old Palace, between the palace and the lake is a house which was built many, many years ago as a retreat for the rajmata, the queen mother. It is now used as the Residency.’

They arrived at last in front of a fifteen foot high wall covered in cascades of pink and white pelargoniums, and Govind led the way through an archway into a garden which took Joe’s breath away. He grinned. ‘You said it, Govind! “Bounteous”. That’s the only word for this show! Eat your heart out, Wisley!’

A profusion of foliage and flowers, many recognizably English ones, clustered around a small but gracious Moghul-inspired dower house. A flight of marble steps led to a pillared portico and an open door at which stood Lois Vyvyan. Looking for all the world like a Staffordshire figurine, was Joe’s impression, as he took in the light afternoon dress of lilac, the trug spilling over with marguerites and dahlias that she held on her arm. Catching sight of them, she handed the trug to a servant standing by, dusted off her hands and came forward to greet Joe.

She aimed a smile at a spot a fraction over Joe’s right shoulder. ‘Welcome to the Residency, Commander.’

She dismissed Govind with a nod and indicated that Joe should install himself in one of the rattan planter’s chairs which stood on the verandah. ‘May I get you a drink? We have sherry, champagne, hock. . ‘ she said vaguely.

‘The idea of a glass of hock is suddenly appealing,’ said Joe affably and another servant was sent off to fetch the drinks tray.

‘We are well provided for, you’ll find,’ she said. ‘Anything — well, most things — one has at Home is available in Ranipur. You just have to ask. Udai is very generous. The only thing the Residency lacks, in fact,’ she smiled and arched a carefully plucked eyebrow, ‘is the Resident! Claude! He works too hard. The cry of the memsahib all over India, I know! But it’s true. Always one more document to complete, one more letter to dictate, one more petitioner to see. . He will be joining us shortly.’

‘Where does your husband do his work? Here at the Residency?’

‘No. This building is very lovely but hardly commodious. We have four reception rooms and six bedrooms and that’s quite small for India. Claude has his office in a bungalow down by the lake. A good arrangement. I would not care to have my house trampled through by all and sundry. Oh, excuse me — may I take your parcel?’ she asked, catching sight of the bundle of books.

‘You may indeed take it,’ said Joe. ‘And keep it. It’s a small gift for you and the sahib. Govind assures me that you appreciate Wodehouse.’

As he handed over the books he was struck by a sudden doubt. Had Govind got it right? Did this stiff Englishwoman have a sense of humour? But her reaction was spontaneous and certainly not a snort of disgust.

‘You are too kind! But what a treat! Oh, are you sure you can spare them?’ she said, unfastening the ribbon with eager fingers. ‘Jill the Reckless. Oh, good! I haven’t read it.’

‘It’s very new,’ said Joe, pleased at last to feel he was living in the same world as Lois Vyvyan. And to pass the time until the arrival of the drinks, ‘I’ve just finished it. It’s the usual story of a pretty young girl who loses her fortune and has to go, penniless, across the ocean to find herself a congenial, rich man. . I think you’ll enjoy it,’ he finished hurriedly, not at all convinced by Lois’s arching eyebrows that she would.

But perhaps his doubts were a delusion as she replied in a friendly enough tone, ‘I’m sure I shall. And what have we here? For Claude? The Indiscretions of Archie?’ For a moment he had a clear notion that if Lois were capable of a giggle she was attempting to repress one. ‘Commander, are you trying to convey a message?’

The drinks tray arrived at that moment and Lois did not wait for his answer but busied herself checking its contents.

‘Here’s your hock. A good one, I think. Seltzer for you? No? Why don’t you bring it through to the drawing room? I hear you have quite an eye for architecture, Commander, and you must be curious to see the interior. It does not disappoint!’

It didn’t. Joe thought he could live out his life in this pretty house and count himself blessed. By Indian standards the rooms were, indeed, small but Lois had chosen to furnish them appropriately in pieces lighter than the usual Western, overstuffed, oversized, dark wood relics of the Victorian age. Unusually for a memsahib, she had introduced one or two items of Indian workmanship; a long low white upholstered sofa was scattered with piles of silk cushions in lime, purple and magenta and in pride of place was a white-painted grand piano.

Joe walked over to it and ran a hand over the keys. ‘Do you play, Mrs Vyvyan?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘Not well, but with more skill than you, apparently. What was that? I didn’t recognize it.’

‘Not entirely sure the composer would have either,’ said Joe. ‘“Elite Syncopations”. Scott Joplin. .’

‘Ah. I’m not familiar with jazz,’ said Lois. Her tone made it quite clear that she sought no greater familiarity.

Joe turned his attention to the ranks of framed photographs methodically lined up on the piano. Some were in sepia, some in black and white, all were formal portraits. In prime position on the front row was an army man so like Lois, Joe asked without hesitation, ‘Your father?’

She smiled sadly. ‘Killed in France. He should have retired years before but,’ she shrugged a slim shoulder, ‘you know how it is with military men, Commander. When your country needs you, you make yourself available. And my father was army to the core.’

Her pride was evident. Joe looked more closely at the uniform, trying to identify the rank. ‘Brigadier-General, I think? Your father did well.’

‘At whatever he attempted,’ was the brief reply.

Joe’s eye was caught by a distracting detail of the Brigadier’s uniform and he turned his face away from Lois, unwilling to reveal his fleeting expression of interest and surprise. Could he have this right? he wondered and checked again discreetly. Yes, it was small but there was no mistaking the insignia.

He could have commented on it, shown an informed interest in the wreath of oak leaves surrounding the letters RFC, asked a polite question, but he decided, on impulse, to keep his observation to himself. Enough to note that Lois didn’t consider it worthy of comment.

‘Your rank intrigues me,’ Lois went on. ‘Commander? It has a naval ring to it?’

‘Yes. And quite deliberately so. You are intended to be impressed by it. You are intended to think, “My goodness! If such a young and dashing chap can attain the rank of Commander, he must be of high ability and of some consequence in the force.”’

He had attempted a light, self-deprecating tone but Lois was ready, as usual, with her barbed comment. ‘Or perhaps, “Here is a young man who has stepped into dead men’s shoes”? Many gaps in the ranks after the war. Too many green young colonels in the services. I suppose it was the same with the police?’

In all his time in India, Lois Vyvyan was the first to question him about his rank. She seemed genuinely interested and well informed, if annoyingly rude. Did she choose deliberately to ruffle his feathers? Joe was reminded strongly of a little Angus terrier he had owned before the war. It had hated strangers and would approach them, tail wagging with every sign of good humour but the moment a hand was extended in friendship, that hand would receive a nasty nip. Joe knew the dog couldn’t help it. He set out to be welcoming, he knew he ought to be friendly but he just had to bite first.

‘Well, I left the army a green major,’ said Joe, ‘and not being a dyed-in-the-wool military man I was very ready to transfer to the police force.’

‘Strange decision?’ said Lois. ‘Wasn’t it? Did no one advise you against it? Pounding the beat and apprehending small boys stealing apples must have seemed rather tame after four years of battling the Kaiser?’

‘Delightfully tame,’ said Joe with a broad grin. ‘I was never a career soldier. But I was promoted quickly from apple-scrumping arrests. There are in normal times two commanders for the London area. I was appointed a third with special duties.’

Lois was listening with genuine interest so he carried on. ‘After the war, many officers were turned loose on the civilized world to make their way in it again. Many had had their lives destroyed, their position in society usurped, their wealth dissipated, their fiancées stolen. . And what were they left with? With a carefully nurtured ability to kill and to survive and a coarsened sense of morality on which to base their future existence. You will be shocked but perhaps not surprised to learn that some of these trained killers took to a life of crime and violence.’

Lois nodded.

‘And who was there to apprehend this new breed of villain — the upper class crook? Not a bumbling, bluecaped bobby, wobbling along on a bike! Imagine, will you, arriving at a large country house or at a flat in Albany to put a question or two to the Right Honourable Fruity Featherstonehaugh. A bobby would be expected to present himself at the tradesmen’s entrance, wipe his boots and, if he was lucky, the butler might inform his master of the presence of the Law below but in the meantime he would be welcome to a cup of kitchen tea and a slice of cook’s Dundee cake. .’

‘Naturally. But a commander, well-born and educated, arrives at the front door able to speak de couronne en couronne to His Grace or whoever is suspected of some dastardly wheeze. .’ said Lois with a flash of insight and enthusiasm.

‘Exactly! I have a department chosen by me and a wandering brief from the Commissioner, Sir Nevil Macready — who, by the way, is a close friend of Sir George and very like him in style.’

‘I see it all,’ smiled Lois. ‘But what on earth are you doing in India? I’m sure you are much needed in London. How can they spare you?’

‘I was lent to Sir George for six months to advise and train the Calcutta Police,’ said Joe. ‘A two-way process as it turned out! I learned as much from them as they learned from me. But my secondment seems to have stretched beyond the original spell. Sir George keeps finding me cases to clear up.’

‘And is that what you’re doing here?’ asked Lois with a sweet smile. ‘May we expect you to drag one of us away in manacles?’

‘No. I’m off duty. Sir George has granted me a week’s leave to watch a tiger being bagged.’

‘Oh, I think you’re planning on doing more than watch, Sandilands,’ came Claude’s voice from the door. ‘I’ve seen your gun! You could shoot the eye out of the Man in the Moon with that! Don’t be deceived, Lois, by this chap’s modesty. I had someone check his file for me — I’m a careful man, Commander! — and he’s quite a fire-eater. Watch out, Lois! If you’ve been cheating at bridge, he’ll find you out!’

This was the first time Joe had seen the Vyvyans reacting with each other and he was intrigued to note the sudden gentleness in Lois’s tone as she enquired about her husband’s morning. Her expressive face could not hide an unspoken question underlying the words and Claude responded to this with a reassuring smile and an imperceptible nod. He answered succinctly and lightly, involving their guest in his replies, and his eyes, Joe noticed, followed his wife as she moved about the room. He would have said their relationship was one of respect and affection.

With Claude’s sunny presence, the conversation, which had been limping along, took on a lighter tone and a faster pace. After a while Claude said hesitantly, ‘I don’t believe you’ll mind, Sandilands, if I tell Lois the news of our little ceremony with the ruler earlier? So much to do as a consequence of all that, I haven’t yet had time to inform her of his decision! My dear — it’s Bahadur!’

‘Well, of course it’s Bahadur! But how good to know that officially at last!’ was Lois’s delighted reply. ‘And. .?’

‘And yours truly is to be co-regent. I must say I look forward to working with that clever young man! Quite the best thing that could have happened for Ranipur and for India. Why don’t I have a glass of that hock to celebrate, my love? I don’t often indulge in the middle of the day but this is a special occasion — I’m sure you’ll understand, Sandilands? A lot of hard work and planning has gone on behind the scenes to get to where we are at this moment!’

His comment fell with an almost audible clunk between them, a comment wide open to misinterpretation by anyone with a devious mind and quite obviously that was exactly what Lois Vyvyan had. Surprisingly, she chortled into her glass and looked at Joe with merriment. ‘Gracious, Claude! Do have a care! The Commander is reaching for his notebook! He’ll be asking you for a confession to two murders if you’re not more circumspect!’

Joe grinned affably back and Lois went on in the same light tone, ‘But who’s your partner-in-crime, Claude? You said co-regent? My money’s always been on Zalim. .’

‘No. Rather a surprise, I have to say. It’s Third Her Highness. Shubhada. The lad’s stepmother.’

Lois’s amusement died. ‘Ah. Not such good news. Now why on earth would Udai go and do that?’

‘Makes a certain sense when you think about it,’ said Claude. ‘The girl’s intelligent and ambitious. I think she’ll take the position seriously. And don’t lose sight of the real reason for naming her. Udai’s very much in love with her and very much under her thumb, you’d say. He knows that his death will strip her of all official position in the state. She will be reduced to an insignificant and very dull existence indeed when he pops off. By making her coregent he enhances her power in princely India.’

‘Power, you say? Just how much power are we considering, sir?’ Joe asked.

‘It depends on Bahadur himself,’ said Claude. ‘He may want to get his hands on the reins of government as soon as possible, which would be at the age of sixteen — eighteen if he’s not so keen. The intervening years, the years of his minority, will be vital for us. We’ll send him to Mayo College or, better still, to England if that’s what he would prefer, and run the show while he’s off playing cricket and learning French and geography. Tricky times, as you’re aware, Sandilands. Politically, we’re walking through a minefield. No one is sure what the role of the princely states ought to be in the larger context of the continent — many different opinions. All we can do here is keep the lid on until further orders are issued.’

‘And the day-to-day running of the state?’ Joe pressed further. ‘Will you and Her Highness have a hands-on role to play or will the authority be in name only?’

‘Oh, very much hands on the reins,’ said Claude. ‘We’ll have to supervise the organization of the state, the finances, the taxation. We’ll be the literal keepers of the treasury! What about that, Lois! There’s a sort of ceremonial handing over of the keys to the khajina. . I suppose they’ve got a spare set. . Should check on that. .’ he murmured.

Joe smiled to see the civil servant so near the surface. The excitement of his new situation was not going to override the meticulous attention to detail that kept Claude’s ship afloat.

‘Khajina?’

‘Very mysterious and romantic,’ Lois joined in. ‘Oh, Claude, do you think they’d let me in — just for a quick peek? It’s a little stronghold in the hills, Commander, a mile or so to the west. And — can you believe? — it’s where the rulers of Ranipur have always kept their treasure. Gold, precious stones. . worth goodness knows how much! They say the loot is stacked deep in the stone coffers that line the room. . You can plunge your arm in up to the armpit and encounter nothing but jewels!’

‘They all have them, you know. The princes. Banking and Western methods of storing and moving money around are quite unknown to most of them and certainly not encouraged by HM Government. Hyderabad could buy out the whole of Europe probably and still have change. And heaven knows how much there is stashed away in the Ranipur treasury,’ Claude said with an air of intrigue.

‘Isn’t it, er, vulnerable, up there in the hills?’ asked Joe. ‘Looks like bandit country to me — I flew over it this morning.’

‘Nothing’s ever disappeared from the treasure house, I’m told. It’s guarded by a family of indigenous hill people. They will only let in the keeper of the keys. Udai says they let him in occasionally to run his fingers through his goodies but they don’t exactly encourage visits. It’s not like viewing the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London at tuppence a go!’ he said, shaking his head in mock warning at Lois.

A servant arrived to announce that luncheon was served and they made their way through to an airy dining room facing on to a northern verandah aired by a slight breeze blowing in from the lake. Joe paused, admiring the view framed by the open stone arches.

‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ said Lois, following his gaze. ‘I never tire of looking at the lake. You must come in the evening, Commander, and see the animals. The strangest creatures come down to drink. All kinds of deer, some predators even and wild camel. And the flocks of birds are quite magical! When the duck fly in, they’re so thick you can’t see the opposite bank!’

‘I see your neighbour over there has an even better view. Is that pretty little pavilion inhabited — the one that seems to be growing out of the water? The white, Moghulesque house with the fretted windows?

‘It certainly is,’ said Claude. ‘The ruler gave it to his third wife as a marriage present. Shubhada insisted on having her own accommodation when she came to live here — the zenana was no place for her. And there she lives, discreetly away from the hurly-burly of court life, in some seclusion which, I can tell you, is hard to come by in the palace. Smart move! And the girl’s had the good sense to surround herself with her own staff, mostly recruited in London and Paris and all intensely loyal. Not a whisper of gossip comes from those quarters, I can tell you! Shubhada could be planning the next Indian Mutiny over there and we’d not be aware of it.’

Lunch, to Joe’s surprise, was Indian. Lois explained that they both had a fondness for it and they happened to have an excellent Indian cook, a Pathan from the northern provinces who had the skill of producing spiced and delicious dishes which were not over-hot for an English palate. As Joe sampled the array of fragrant piles of lamb, chicken and vegetables in rich sauces presented on silver thalis he agreed that he had never tasted better.

‘Tell me, Sandilands,’ said Claude as they lit up thin cheroots and accepted cups of coffee at the end of the meal, ‘what made you dash off to Surigargh this morning? Am I to think the copper has a deep interest in the domestic folk art of Shekhavati?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Joe, ‘yes! I have! Though I had no idea what I would see before I got there. Amazing stuff! Very special and, I do believe, quite unknown outside the region?’

‘So I understand. The havelis are rather remote — unapproachable to those who don’t have access to a camel or a plane. But what a disappointing response! Try harder! I had hoped to hear you were straight off like a bloodhound on the trail of whoever is killing off the heirs.’

‘Not my job,’ said Joe firmly. ‘In spite of your appointment. I was accompanying Captain Mercer who is very anxious to locate his rigger, Ali. His favourite for the wire-cutting sabotage, which was very neatly done! Captain Mercer was told that he’d gone back to his home town. We were hoping to catch up with him.’

‘Any luck?’

‘I’m afraid not. No sign. I’m told by none other than Ajit Singh that our lad has “gone to Delhi”.’

Claude sighed. ‘And we all know how to interpret that! Sounds to me as though poor Ali has gone to feed the crocodiles in the lake.’

‘Crocodiles?’

‘Yes. There’s a sort of scavenging squad of the ugly brutes at large in the lake. Their numbers are carefully controlled. I’m sure they perform a useful function,’ he added bleakly. ‘But, look, Sandilands, I’m not happy with the way things are going. I do detect a pattern and I don’t like the look of it. I’m fond of my new charge — Bahadur — and I would like to see him flourish. I wouldn’t like to see him ending up a bonne bouche for the crocs and it does look as though the ruler’s announcement may well have made him a target.’

‘It’s possible,’ said Joe. ‘It’s certainly possible. And that would imply that a superior power is at work here. Two murders which could well have been passed off as death by misadventure or accident were cleverly worked out and perpetrated, and not only the victims but the hired help were removed. It takes a lot of clout in any society to bring that about. And anyone that powerful is not likely to be scared off committing a third murder by two honest English observers standing by exclaiming, “Oh, I say! That’s simply not cricket!”’

Joe would rather have been drawing Claude out on his observations and impressions but he sensed an anxiety about the man, an anxiety he appeared to want to share with a congenial fellow countryman.

Claude was nodding, his eyes on the glowing tip of his cheroot. ‘Just what I. . we’ve been thinking. And I’d be prepared to draw up and share with you a list of — three? Yes, perhaps three.’

Lois nodded her agreement.

‘But of course, we won’t actually articulate any of them — walls have ears, you know, and our home-grown Ko-Ko is well served.’

‘And I think if we were to compare we’d see the same names come up,’ said Joe. ‘But I have thought, Vyvyan, that we may not be dealing with something as straightforward, as obvious, as the elimination of all the heirs. Has the thought come to you that ends may already have been achieved? That perhaps the accession of Bahadur may be the ultimate aim of whoever is behind all this?’

Claude looked puzzled for a moment and then hopeful. ‘You’re thinking we could all shout “Gone to earth” and go home to our tea? I must say, it would be a huge relief to come off watch.’

‘Good Lord!’ murmured Lois. ‘We’d all been concentrating so much on the idea of all the potential heirs being wiped off the slate. . But who then?. . The boy has a good number of people in his corner, including Claude — including me if it comes to that. .’ She stopped in some embarrassment.

‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘the two murders do seem to have brought about a good result for the state. . and for British interests. But look here, I’m just theorizing out loud. I’ve only been here two minutes and I could have it wrong. I’d be glad to hear from you, sir. Oh, and by the way — so would Sir George! He was complaining that he hadn’t had your report on the death of Bishan. And with the next one due now — well, better not let them pile up, eh?’

Vyvyan was silent for a moment. ‘I sent off a report as soon as I was certain of the facts,’ he said carefully, ‘about a week after the death. You’re saying that it never reached Sir George? I did wonder why he hadn’t taken action — until he dispatched you, that is. I kept a copy. Keep a copy of everything. You can see it if you want to.’ He stirred uncomfortably. ‘Must say, that makes me feel a bit. . what? Overlooked? Besieged? Look, as a precaution, why don’t you carry a copy of my report on each of the deaths back with you in your saddle bag when you return to Simla? Just in case.’

‘I’d be pleased to do that,’ said Joe. ‘Look, sir, is there any chance — before we all get swept up on to elephants and off into the wilderness to try conclusions with this tiger — that I could have a word with Zalim Singh? On a purely unofficial level, of course.’

‘Shouldn’t be difficult to arrange,’ said Claude, stubbing out his cheroot, ‘but there’s someone else who’s asked to see you. Again. Bahadur in his new role of Yuvaraj wants to have a word. Said I’d take you along after lunch.’

‘I’d like very much to see him again. Our first interview was short and impromptu, you could say. But where’s he got to? He seems to be an elusive presence around the palace. Like a ball of quicksilver!’

‘That’s a pretty fair description,’ said Claude. ‘You never know where you’re going to stub your toe on him. He’s with Lizzie Macarthur for the day. She’s tutoring him in the natural history of Rajputana, I believe. Oh, she’s much more than a nanny. Studied at Oxford and a good teacher. Bahadur is devoted to her and she’s a steadying influence on his rather, um, volatile character.’

‘Quite a contrast between the two female influences in the boy’s life?’ suggested Joe.

Claude grunted. ‘You’re right there. His mother is totally uneducated, illiterate even, and that’s normal for village girls of her age but she’s a clever woman. Well, she’d have to be to retain such a hold over the ruler for so many years, I suppose. It would give her enormous consequence if — I mean when Bahadur inherits. If he didn’t she’d be left with nothing. Reduced to the ranks, you might say. And I suppose that’s already occurred to you?’

‘Yes, and I’ll tell you something else. The main players all seem to have one thing in common and that’s Surigargh. What are we looking at, sir? A sort of Mafia setup?’

‘Oh, very like that,’ Claude agreed. ‘Family connections, ruthless ambition, power struggles, vengeance. . the Sicilians don’t have a patent on that, you know. And I can think of a few Scottish clans who would give the Rajputs a good run for their money,’ he added slyly.

‘You don’t annoy me with a remark like that, sir,’ said Joe easily. ‘I’m a Lowlander from the Borders. We rather look down on all that “wild Heeland” stuff. But Lizzie, now, she’s a Macarthur from. . the shores of Loch Awe, I think. She’d understand!’

‘And she’d go a long way to protect that young charge of hers,’ said Claude. ‘In determination, I do believe she’d be the equal of that most famous of Rajput nursemaids. . Do you know the story, Sandilands?’

Joe thought that he did but shook his head. He was enjoying hearing Claude, teasing information out of him, assessing his views, his alliances.

‘One turbulent night,’ Claude began, launching himself into the story with relish, ‘the palace of a Rajput princeling — and he no more than a baby lying in his cradle — was invaded by his wicked uncle and his bunch of cut-throat followers intent on killing his nephew and claiming the throne for himself. Not an unusual story but the next act in the drama was unusual — very. The nursemaid felt honour bound to defend the prince in the only way that to her seemed possible against such odds.’ He fell silent for a moment, the power of the well-known story still able to make him pause in the telling. ‘She snatched the prince from his cradle and put her own baby in his place. The murderous mob arrived and stabbed the nurse’s baby to death. The real prince was smuggled out of the palace and years later when he came of age he presented himself and eventually reclaimed his kingdom. The nursemaid is much honoured in Rajputana for her loyalty.’

‘Terrible, terrible story,’ murmured Joe. ‘And, yes, I can quite imagine it being told in the Gaelic round a turf fire of an evening!’

He eyed Claude covertly. In his easy conversational way, the Resident had presented Joe with four — or was it five? — potential heads on a platter. Joe watched him clap his hands and order more coffee to be brought. How could Joe describe the man’s mood? More than relaxed, he decided — elated, celebratory. But, after all, he had just been handed a significant position. And the key to the state treasury. An uneasy thought came to Joe: with the other heirs removed, Claude’s path to the regency was clear, with all the power and prestige that would flow from the position. Sir Claude and Lady Vyvyan? It sounded fitting. And after that? A governorship? The next Viceroy but two? Small wonder that the Resident and his wife were concerned for the welfare of the new Yuvaraj: Bahadur himself was the key which would unlock Claude’s glittering future.