“THUGGEE?” SAID SOPHIE. “You mean robbers, cutthroats?”
“Stranglers,” declared Alex, with a certain amount of relish. Clearly, she had more to say on the subject, but Jeannie gave her the sort of discouraging look that Sophie’s Nanny Perkins had once used to quell a talkative Sophie.
“Really, Alex,” said Jeannie. “Sophie’s just had a great fright, Lily as well. Must we talk about thuggee?”
“But it’s . . . ” Alex started to protest.
“Oh, yes, I know, it is history.” Jeannie said. “Or at any rate, some version of it. Thuggee did exist — still does, I expect,” she told Sophie, “but really, it’s all become the stuff of penny dreadfuls.”
Sophie was secretly rather fond of penny dreadfuls, and she guessed that Alex was as well. Besides, the journey ahead promised to be long and tedious. “I’ve read about the thugs,” she said, “and really, I’d like to know more if Alex wants to tell me.”
That was enough encouragement for Alex. “What they do, you see, is to make friends with travellers, and offer them things to eat and drink, but the food and drink is drugged, and then when the victims fall asleep, the thugs strangle them. With a silver cord. Or sometimes if they haven’t brought their silver cord, they might just use their handkerchief.”
“But why would they do that?” asked Sophie. “So they can rob the travellers?”
“I dare say they do that as well,” said Alex. “But mostly it’s because thugs worship Kali, and she is a very fierce goddess, always demanding sacrifices.”
Kali again, thought Sophie, suppressing a shudder.
“Oh, and I have to tell you about jaggeree. That’s a kind of sugar which is sacred to Kali, and if you eat it then you are bound forever to the goddess. So you must be very careful when you travel not to eat jaggeree.”
“Or you could become one of the thuggee yourself?”
“You might,” agreed Alex, looking grave at the prospect.
“Alex,” asked Jeannie in mock despair, “wherever do you hear these stories?”
“From Mr. D’Souza’s son, Diego. He has a book about the thugs. He won’t let me borrow it though because he says I’m a girl and I would be too frightened by the pictures.”
“I think,” sighed Jeannie, “that I had better have a word with Mr. D’Souza.”