At about the time Sir Leslie Hastings and Major Kershaw were drinking their toast to him, the man, to whom the general had referred in such uncomplimentary terms, was lying flat on his back resting after an arduous climb. A short distance away, squatted a score or so of wild-looking Afghans, men who had attached themselves to him and now refused to leave him. Armed to the teeth, they formed an impressive-looking bodyguard and, were the truth revealed, he was glad to have their company. When he had commenced on his strange enterprise four months previously, alone and unknown, he had faced enormous difficulties; on every side, was beset by dangers. Somehow he had overcome all obstacles gradually gaining the confidence of those among whom he appeared so mysteriously and to whom he lectured with such deep earnestness. His works of charity, his kindliness, his great knowledge, as it appeared to the untutored, ignorant masses, of the power of healing, which he was always prepared to exercise, worked wonders. His terrific strength, for he was a man with enormous shoulders and a great depth of chest, alone won him hundreds of admirers, for all Afghans love physical power, and he was never backward in displaying his. Above all, a most engaging and magnetic personality, gained for him a following that grew with bewildering rapidity, until he knew quite well there were thousands upon thousands ready and eager to follow him were he only to raise a finger.
He would probably have been the first to admit that superstition was responsible for this to a great extent. He was an utter mystery and anything apparently beyond understanding or explanation exercises a profound influence on the untutored mind. Nobody knew actually whence he came, who he was or, in fact, anything about him. In consequence, wild and impossible stories arose concerning his origin. This added to the fact that his mission was so obviously the establishment of a better ordered state of existence for the downtrodden masses, caused him to be regarded as a saint. Some there were who expressed the belief that he had actually descended from Paradise at the behest of Mohammed himself in order to work a miracle on their behalf. Another and a great factor in his favour was his apparently unlimited control of wealth. At least, to the people, among whom he chose to appear, his financial means seemed boundless. It is true he distributed money generously to the really needy, though seldom more than three or four annas a time to each, but these annas to people, accustomed to living on a few pice a day, came in the nature of a windfall.
It was astonishing how quickly news concerning him circulated throughout Afghanistan, once he had become known, and had swept away the suspicion and distrust he first encountered. Hardly a month had passed since his initial appearance, when his arrival in the various villages he decided to visit began to assume the nature of a triumphant event. He exhibited a great love for children which alone won him most of the women as adherents. He wrestled with the strong men, whom he invariably defeated with ease. He soothed the sufferings of some, cured others, who were ill with fevers and kindred diseases – this, I strongly suspect, was accomplished by the judicious and private use of drugs which he carried secretly about his person. In three months the whole of Afghanistan was talking about him, the great bulk of the population in a spirit little short of adoration. His fame gradually spread beyond the borders of that country and articles concerning him became features of quite a number of newspapers not only in Afghanistan, but in India, Persia, Turkestan and other countries devoted to the Muslim faith.
At first the authorities and the enlightened subjects of Afghanistan regarded his coming with a benevolent eye. When, however, it became obvious that he was teaching the masses that they were unnecessarily downtrodden, that they had the right to demand better conditions, better housing, in short, an altogether improved form of existence to that which they endured so stoically and uncomplainingly, government circles began to grow alarmed. They visualised an uprising, a sudden nationwide revolt that would plunge Afghanistan into a state of anarchy. They now saw in this man, who called himself Aziz Ullah, but who was known generally as The Master, not a harmless visionary but a definite menace. Steps were taken to apprehend him, but that was easier ordered than accomplished. Partially through the resentment such orders almost generally caused and the consequent help and warning he received, and partially through his own forethought, Aziz Ullah was able to avoid the police or soldiers sent to seize him with ease. None of the local authorities in the villages to which he confined his activities dared touch him. They knew any such attempt would probably be more than their lives were worth; perhaps also they were under his dominating influence. Nevertheless, he had several narrow escapes.
The difficulty of apprehending him became such an acute problem that underhand means were adopted by certain officials in the hope of discrediting him. Every crime almost that took place in the vicinity of districts he visited were attributed to him, and inspired articles, declaring him to be a rogue imposing on a gullible people, were printed in the various government-influenced organs. This appeared to amuse rather than dismay Aziz Ullah. In fact, Major Kershaw stated to General Sir Leslie Hastings, he had even started secretly the circulation of certain stories against himself. It is likely that the ginger-haired Intelligence officer was behind this, for most of them hinted at the possibility of Aziz Ullah desiring to seek power and compared him with Bacha Saqao – the bandit who had seized the country after Amanullah’s flight and, for a short span, had reigned as king. They appeared in Indian newspapers, which Kershaw knew Abdul Qadir Khan, the ambitious Mahsud, received and read with keen attention.
Far from undermining Aziz Ullah’s hold on the populace, the government propaganda actually did more to strengthen it. The people who had taken him to their hearts were not so easily influenced to cast him out again. The persecution to which he was subjected only attached them more warmly to him, and began to rouse their resentment and authorities. Matters had reached this pass at the time Major Kershaw was interviewing the General Officer Commanding Peshawar.
Aziz Ullah’s hiding place was situated in a wonderfully secluded spot in the Hindu Kush Mountains, not far from Kabul itself. He had discovered it when preparing for his enterprise and before he had disclosed himself. Nine thousand feet above sea level, a narrow pass meandered by a couple of hundred feet below. There was no actual track to the place; in fact it would have been inaccessible to any but the hardened natives of the district, athletes, or expert mountaineers. Therein lay its great security. It was a saucer-shaped opening in the mountains surrounded on all but one side by grim towering rocks on which a goat could not have found foothold. There was only one way of approach, and that, as described, was only possible to skilled climbers. A handful of men could have held the place against an army, provided they were well provisioned. Aziz Ullah had stocked it well and every time he and his would-be disciples returned they brought fresh supplies to add to the store. A stream trickling down the mountainside provided all the water needed. A small, almost flat plain covered with coarse grass, dotted here and there with boulders and stunted bushes, mostly of the cactus variety, was Aziz Ullah’s recreation ground, his residence one of many caves penetrating far into the frowning and gigantic rock walls. His followers preferred to herd all together in one of the others.
As he lay on his back apparently asleep, Aziz Ullah was turning several problems over in his mind. One – the reward that had been offered for his apprehension – caused him more interest than concern. He could rely to the hilt on the twenty men who had attached themselves to his person – he had been compelled to choose them from hundreds who had clamoured for the honour – they alone knew where he concealed himself, but wild horses would not have torn the secret from them. His great danger of betrayal lay in the villages and his journeyings from one to another. In every community there is likely to be a Judas. It would be comparatively easy to trap him under some pretext or other and, if the betrayer had companions of the same kidney, spirit him away to a police post. He opened his eyes, and they lighted on the band of stalwarts squatting at a respectful distance from him. Sight of them caused him to smile slightly, and he shook his head a little. No; it would not be easy. It would be most difficult, for the would-be Judas would have to trap that faithful band as well.
A problem that gave him a great deal more thought was the knowledge that the Afridi chieftain, Abdul Qadir Khan, was making earnest attempts to get in touch with him. Emissaries of his were continually endeavouring to arrange a meeting, but always when these men had sidled quietly up to him and whispered their message Aziz Ullah had shaken his head. He chose to let them think he distrusted them – for the present. Sooner or later, he would accept Abdul Qadir’s invitation, but the longer he denied him, the more anxious, he knew, the Mahsud would be to make an alliance with him.
The matter which intrigued his mind above all others, however, was a strange communication that had been imparted to him by the headman of three villages in which he had spent the previous two days. It was to the effect that the government was prepared to delegate a mission to meet him and inquire into the reason for his pilgrimage through the villages and small towns. The mission would hear him in Kabul on a date and at an hour to be decided by him, and promised to give sympathetic consideration to all proposals he cared to put forward for the improvement of conditions for the lowly. The only stipulation imposed was that he should cease until then his public speaking, and should reply at once indicating his readiness to meet the government delegation at the earliest possible moment. Safe conduct was promised to him. Was it a trap? Aziz Ullah was unable to decide. The Afghan mind is subtle and cunning, and the turnabout was, to say the least, startling. The attacks on him, the reward for his apprehension, and now – this! If it were a genuine attempt to meet him amicably, with a view to receiving, at first hand, his suggestions for the welfare of the people, Aziz Ullah felt His Majesty the Amir was behind it. He knew the reigning monarch to be an enlightened ruler eager to serve his people to the best of his ability. The fact that he personally had made little attempt at reform, since coming to the throne, was probably due to his cautious character. No doubt, he always had in mind the fate of Amanullah who, after a visit to Europe, had attempted wholesale westernisation in a gigantic hurry, the result of which had been chaos and the loss of his own throne. Possibly the reigning amir welcomed the idea of a man, who had so quickly and so amazingly gained the confidence of the masses, being the instrument by which improvements in conditions could be achieved to everyone’s satisfaction. Aziz Ullah had been accepted by the mullahs, whose opinions still carried the greatest weight and who exercised tremendous influence in the country. It was possible they had persuaded the amir to command that he should be given a hearing.
On the whole, Aziz Ullah was disposed to accept the invitation. He thought little of the risk. After all, his whole enterprise had been most hazardous from the beginning. Its success had astonished him. He had expected much greater opposition; had been prepared for complete failure. The manner in which he had carried the people with him had been something of which he had not dreamt in his most optimistic moments. Many times of late, he had found himself lost in admiration of the brilliance of the mind behind that had conceived the project. It was typical of the man that his innate modesty caused him to be utterly unconscious of his own great part in the undertaking and to give all the credit elsewhere. It did not occur to him that, had his own personality and handling of an intensely difficult task not risen triumphant, the thought devoted to the idea, the anticipation of native reactions, the whole conception, in fact, of events as they had actually occurred by a clever, subtle brain would have been useless.
He rose from his resting place in the coarse grass and sauntered towards his followers who sprang to their feet at his approach. In his loose native garb, his great depth of chest seemed perhaps more herculean than it actually was, but no one could doubt that he was an immensely powerful man. He stood over six feet in height, possessed the light brown skin typical of the Afghan and grey eyes not unusual in that part of the globe. His glossy black hair and beard were well-kept, and offered a striking contrast to the wild hirsute appendages of his twenty doughty disciples. On the whole, he was a strikingly attractive man. Addressing one whom he had chosen to be leader of the others, a gigantic fellow who stood inches taller than he, he directed him to partake of a meal at once, and prepare for a journey.
‘I have considered,’ he declared in his deep, musical voice, ‘the invitation which has been conveyed to me to meet a mission selected by government. It is my wish that my reply shall reach the minister, upon whom may Allah shed light, by the morning hour of prayer. You will tell him, Yusuf, that I will appear before the delegates on the day of the full moon at the tenth hour.’
‘But, master,’ cried Yusuf, ‘is it not unwise? May not the unholy ones have planned this as a trap? Great sorrow should overshadow all who love you, were harm to befall you.’
‘I am in the hands of Allah, the All-merciful, the All-seeing. Great is His Name,’ came in sonorous tones. Every head was bent reverently. ‘You will go, Yusuf!’
The giant Afghan raised no further objections, but set about his preparations at once, assisted by his companions. When he had had a meal, he appeared before Aziz Ullah, who had seated himself on a boulder, and was gazing into space as though in deep meditation. Yusuf stood behind him as though fearful of disturbing these profound thoughts. Aziz, however, had heard him approach and, without turning his head:
‘You are ready to depart, Yusuf?’ he asked.
‘It is well. You have committed the message to memory – repeat it.’
The Afghan did so.
‘Is it not your wish,’ he added, ‘that I carry writings with me, master?’
‘It is not my wish. I use only word of mouth. You are my messenger. In you I have implicit trust.’ He rose, and turned smilingly to the man. ‘Go, Yusuf, and may Allah go with you.’
The giant seized his hand, conveyed it to his forehead; then, without another word, departed on his mission.
It was not Aziz Ullah’s way to hold himself entirely aloof from his men who had elected to form themselves into his personal bodyguard. When in their mountain retreat, he encouraged them to engage in games and sports, and even joined with them sometimes. Many were the wrestling bouts held there in that great mountain range which forms the western part of the grim, towering Himalayan wall round northern India. At first, the men had been shy and embarrassed at indulging in their simple pastimes before or with him, but he displayed such hearty, good-humoured enjoyment that they quickly forgot any restraint; laughed and shouted like excited children, and entered into everything with the utmost zest. It was hard to realise when watching them at play, that these simple, unsophisticated creatures could be the fierce, cruel, sometimes brutally vicious men they were by nature, even though their appearance indicated it.
Yusuf returned after an absence of thirty-six hours to report that he had delivered the message. The date and time fixed for the meeting, he announced, had met with the approval of the minister. The members of the mission would at once be selected, and Aziz Ullah would be expected to arrive punctually. He thanked Yusuf, and informed the men that he would remain in the mountains until the day of the appointment drew near. It was his intention to respect the stipulation imposed, principally in order to give not the slightest excuse for treachery, also to prepare the matters which he would put before the officials chosen to hear him. It was necessary to get his ideas in order. His orations to the people, in which he had exhorted them to claim improved conditions, reduced taxation, better housing, organised training for the young, and satisfactory scales of wages, to mention but a few of their needs, had been delivered without much idea as to how these reforms were to be carried out. That rested with the government, but the delegation would naturally expect something in the nature of suggestions or plans. He had six clear days in which to prepare them, and he spent a considerable amount of thought on them. It was an extremely difficult task, for they had to be of such a nature that they would mean no violent clash with the extremely conservative temperament of the people they were intended to benefit and, at the same time, be well within the power and financial resource of the government to provide.
He smiled to himself many times as he laboriously drilled his ideas into shape. He had little thought, when commencing on his enterprise, that he would actually appear before an official mission to plead for the oppressed thousands. However, he eventually satisfied himself that he had prepared a well-ordered and concise harangue which should meet with the approval of all. He provided himself with no documents, everything being committed to memory, and repeated over and over again in the seclusion of his cave, until he was word perfect.
Yusuf and his other followers were not at all sanguine concerning the visit to Kabul. Like the majority of Afghans of their class, they utterly distrusted everything connected with officialdom. They saw in this invitation to The Master nothing but a treacherous bid by the government to get him into its power, because all other means had failed. They dared make no further attempt to dissuade Aziz Ullah from going; they were too much in awe of him for that, but they formed plans among themselves for his protection. If Aziz guessed anything of this, he gave no indication. It was noticed, however, that a smile was on his face and no hint of surprise, when, on the day before the appointed meeting, on descending from his retreat, he found a vast crowd, entirely composed of men, awaiting his coming. Almost all were armed in some sort of fashion, while the absence of women and children was a significant factor that was not lost on him. As a matter of fact, he had expected something of the sort. He had not been blind to the absence of three of his disciples during the preceding three days; neither did he fail to notice the unobtrusive manner in which they now attached themselves to him again.
He was greeted by the throng as a saviour, and was greatly embarrassed by the men who strove to kneel before him and place his foot upon their heads. True to his determination to refrain from any public speaking, in accordance with the condition imposed, he merely contented himself with a sonorous, ‘Salaam alaikum’, and proceeded on his way. The crowd fell in behind, and he made no attempt to stop them. It would be as well, he thought, if the government did purpose treachery, that its intentions should be restrained by actual evidence of that with which it had to contend. On the road, more and more men fell in behind The Master. When, towards evening, Kabul was sighted, there must have been close on ten thousand with him. How they provided themselves with the means of satisfying hunger and thirst, Aziz Ullah did not inquire, but obviously they had done so. On deciding to camp for the night outside the walls of the city, hundreds of fires sprang up in a remarkably short space of time, pots and pans appeared miraculously from bundles, and the smell of cooking quickly permeated the air. Aziz Ullah’s own necessities were provided by the faithful twenty.
A white man riding a native pony, followed by a servant on another, leading a pack mule, approached Kabul shortly after the horde had settled down. He gazed at it in astonishment, then rubbed his eyes. Darkness was not due to fall for some time, and the light was perfect. He could not be mistaken. Reining in his animal, he turned to the bearer.
‘Do you see what I see, Rashid?’ he asked in Urdu.
‘Indeed I do, sahib,’ was the reply. ‘It is a camp, and there are many men.’
‘You are right. For a little while I thought perhaps the sun had blinded my eyes and put visions into my sight that did not exist. It is strange that such a concourse should gather outside Kabul.’
‘Very strange, sahib. It is my mind that The Master has been apprehended and these have come to demand his release.’
Mahommed Rashid was actually a havildar in a Punjabi regiment; had been for some time on Intelligence service and had proved his value. Major Kershaw – he was the white man – vowed he would not change him for a dozen officers of the political branch of the police.
‘By Jove!’ exclaimed Ginger in English and in a somewhat perturbed tone. ‘I hope to God you’re wrong.’ Mahommed Rashid understood English passably well, but he was a poor hand at speaking it. He waited, and presently his companion reverted to Hindustani. ‘Ride over and find out, Rashid. Leave the mule with me. Be judicious in your questioning. I know there is a Persian saying, much quoted in this country, that he who remains silent questions easily, but I must know if harm has befallen Aziz Ullah.’
The havildar, garbed as a bearer and wearing nothing that might indicate the soldier, galloped his pony across the rough ground, until he reached a group of wild-looking peasants, squatting solemnly round a hookah. Their fierce eyes regarded him questioningly, but they responded civilly enough to his salutation.
‘I am the servant of the English lord over yonder,’ he announced. ‘Many times a year he comes to Kabul, where he has friends and does much business. His eyes have fallen on this mighty gathering, and it is in his mind that there is trouble. If that is so, he will return to India. Speak, therefore, friends, that I may tell him whether or not he should proceed.’
They laughed. One, whose shaggy locks hung untidily round his face and mingled with his ragged beard, spat somewhat contemptuously.
‘Does the unbeliever fear danger to himself?’ he asked.
‘Nay. It is only that he likes not to be present at matters that concern him not. Truly he is a brave man, and a kind and considerate master.’
‘Then tell him we have come hither in peace. Have you heard tell of The Master, stranger?’
‘I have heard many wonders concerning that great one, the peace of Allah be with him.’
He bowed his head respectfully. The Afghan’s eyes showed their approval, as they responded reverently to his pious wish.
‘Then know,’ went on the spokesman, ‘that tomorrow The Master enters Kabul to have speech with the government regarding our many wrongs. These,’ he waved his hand round him to indicate the lounging multitude, ‘have accompanied him without desire of his, because it is feared that danger may threaten him. We do not trust the great ones of government. Many lies have they spread regarding his works, many times have they wished to take possession of him, and throw him into prison. If they intend to respect him, and listen with peace to his words, all will be well. But if they purpose harm; then shall we rise in our anger to his aid.’
‘You are indeed men,’ returned Rashid approvingly. ‘May the blessings of Allah descend on you and on your children, and may He prosper you. Salaam!’
He wheeled his pony; galloped back to Major Kershaw who awaited his coming a trifle impatiently. The havildar retailed that which he had been told, whereupon the Intelligence officer became deeply thoughtful.
‘I like it not, Rashid,’ he declared presently. ‘It is in my mind that treachery is intended. The present Afghan government is half composed of men of corrupt ideas, who fear reform lest it rob them of their ill-gotten gains, make impossible for the future any profits by fraud, and even force them from office. It is difficult to believe they will be prepared to meet Aziz Ullah with honest purpose in their hearts.’
The havildar had a similar thought to that which had some days before occurred to The Master.
‘It may be, sahib,’ he observed, ‘that the amir has ordered that he be heard.’
‘I wonder. Hark you! Ride again to those men with whom you had speech. Say that I have heard much of the greatness of him they call The Master, and if they think he will not scorn to meet an unbeliever, who yet has much respect for the Muslim faith, I have a desire to send him my salaams and to be received by him.’
Rashid’s heavy black brows met together in a frown.
‘You would be seen in public with him, sahib?’ he asked.
Kershaw nodded.
‘There will not be the time to meet in the usual way before he goes before the government officials; also the risk would now be too great. Go, Rashid!’
Like a good soldier, the havildar obeyed orders although he nursed a feeling that Kershaw sahib was not behaving with his usual wisdom. The Englishman watched him gallop across the uneven ground to the men from whom he had obtained his information. This time he dismounted; joined the circle round the hookah, which was pushed towards him as a sign of good fellowship. Kershaw sat his pony patiently, smiling to himself a little at the realisation that his request was apparently causing a good deal of argument. At last one of the men rose, and went off through the camp. There was another long period of waiting before he returned, accompanied by a giant of a man who seemed to be literally bristling with arms. The latter spoke to Rashid, who promptly sprang to his feet and, taking his pony by the bridle, led the fellow to Kershaw. The major thought he had never seen a dirtier or fiercer-looking Afghan. His greasy locks, unkempt beard, and dark, glittering eyes gave him a wilder aspect than most; yet he carried himself with a dignity that was rather impressive. There was a good deal of insolent contempt in the stare he directed at the slight, freckled Englishman.
‘The Master has bidden this man take you to him, sahib,’ announced Rashid.
‘I feel it a very great honour,’ replied Kershaw.
Yusuf, for it was he, looked questioningly at the havildar. Apparently he did not understand Urdu. The Englishman promptly repeated his remark in Persian, receiving a grunt from the other.
‘Come!’ he directed.
Without waiting to ascertain whether he was being followed at once or not, he turned, and strode back towards the camp. Kershaw dismounted, threw the reins to Rashid, and set off after him. He found it difficult to keep pace, since Yusuf took long and rapid strides. It was a considerable distance to the spot, under a group of trees, where Aziz Ullah was reclining. The Master was in the very centre of the camp, the thousands who had joined him having placed themselves round him in a huge circle, obviously with the intention of guarding him. Those comprising the inner circle had remained at a respectful distance, however, his own immediate followers being the only men actually in his vicinity.
Kershaw’s progress through the camp was an ordeal from which a good many Englishmen would have shrunk. The Afghans stood to watch him pass, and there were not many present who did not openly show they regarded him with the utmost suspicion. They were a fierce, unruly-looking lot, few of whom gave any indication that they were of other than the lowest order of Afghan society. The Englishman, however, seemed actually to enjoy the sensation he created. He nodded and smiled, as he progressed through their ranks, appearing completely at ease, which indeed he was. Few people had ever seen Kershaw out of countenance. He had the wonderful faculty of being at home under all circumstances and in any company; could adapt himself to everything, no matter what it happened to be.
Aziz Ullah rose, as he entered the clearing behind the giant Yusuf. There was not a flicker of recognition in the eyes of either, as they looked at each other. Aziz bowed low. Kershaw followed suit, standing a few yards from the man he had come to see as though he thought it might be disrespectful to approach too close. This attitude on the part of an Englishman greatly impressed the many who viewed the meeting. The stock of Kershaw rose very much.
‘It is to me a great privilege,’ he observed in his flawless Persian, ‘to be permitted to meet Your Holiness. I have heard—’
A slight smile crossed the face of The Master, as he held up a powerful, shapely hand in protest.
‘I do not claim,’ he objected, ‘neither do I permit a designation so exalted to be applied to me. I am but a man, no greater than these among whom and for whom I work. You have come to meet me. You are not prompted by idle curiosity, but by real interest and, for that, I am glad. Will you recline here for a little while with me, and tell me of your great country?’
Kershaw thanked him, but declared he wished rather to learn all about the great work on which his host was engaged.
‘I have been told so much,’ he added, ‘that has kindled my admiration. If I can hear from your lips something of your ideals, it will give me much happiness. It will also enable me, from my own knowledge, to dispute the false and lying rumours that have been circulated by your enemies.’
There was a hearty murmur of approval at this from the hearers. Suspicion of Kershaw was rapidly evaporating. When he and Aziz Ullah sank amicably side by side to the rug spread on the ground, the latter’s twenty disciples turned contentedly away, while the others in the vicinity, who had been watching and listening, once again occupied themselves with their own affairs.
‘Was this wise, think you?’ asked Aziz Ullah softly.
‘It was necessary,’ was the reply spoken as quietly. ‘I should not have taken the risk had it not been that I learnt of that which is to take place on the morrow. Surely you do not trust these officials?’
‘No; I do not trust them.’ He smiled. ‘But there is a chance that their purpose is honest, and while that chance exists I must not hesitate. These people, and others like them, have placed great reliance in me. I feel it my duty not to betray their trust. He – you know whom I mean?’ Kershaw nodded. ‘He would not have me do otherwise.’
‘But what if there is an assassin or assassins in waiting to murder you?’
Aziz Ullah shrugged his shoulders slightly.
‘I am in the hands of Allah,’ he remarked with a smile.
Kershaw smiled also, and there was an expression of affection on his face.
‘You are a brave man,’ he murmured.
‘That is woman’s talk,’ returned the other in a tone of disgust. ‘Listen! I will not only be salving my conscience to a great extent by doing all I can to get consideration shown to these poor people, but I believe firmly that this meeting and the consequent recognition shown to me – that is, presuming treachery is not intended – will force Abdul Qadir Khan to become more insistent than ever. That is the chief reason why I think you have been unwise to come here. He will have been informed of the action of government and my acceptance. It is in my mind that he himself may come to Kabul. Is it not likely, my friend, that his agents are even among this multitude? They will report to him concerning your having speech with me. Will that not rouse the Khan’s suspicions, and perhaps undo all our plans?’
Kershaw was looking distinctly uneasy by this time. He quickly forced the momentary expression of alarm from his face, however, and smiled lest anyone should notice and wonder what it was perturbed him.
‘You are right,’ he admitted. ‘I have been thoughtless. I was alarmed for you, though. You see, I have brought something with me from Peshawar which will act as a safeguard against murderous attacks and, when I heard of your appointment for tomorrow, I wanted you to have it at once.’
Aziz Ullah looked questioningly at him.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘A jacket of mail to wear close to your skin. It is light and of the finest mesh. I guarantee it will resist bullets or daggers.’
‘That was thoughtful of you. Where is it?’
‘I have it under my coat. Presently, when I am certain I am unobserved, I will slip the parcel down and push it under the rug.’
‘Thank you. Now I think you had better go. The time is nearly ripe for our scheme against Abdul Qadir. I will be back in the retreat in two days from now. At this hour I will meet you in the cave of the witch and we can make our final plans. Be cautious on entering Kabul. Abdul Qadir may be there, and he also may know who you are. You are not of a type regarded without interest in these parts, my friend. Your hair, your eyebrows, and your moustache are of a colour too distinct to pass unnoticed.’
‘That is a sore point with me,’ confessed Kershaw. ‘My work would be a great deal easier were I dark. But it is of no use railing against Fate. On the rare occasions I disguise myself I am all the time worried lest the colour shines through the dye. Roots of red hair refuse to be suppressed … The parcel is well under the rug. For the love of Allah use it. You promise?’
‘I promise. It would be ungracious as well as ungrateful of me not to wear it. Besides, I have no wish to die – yet. You have relieved my mind greatly.’
‘Good.’ Kershaw rose to his feet. ‘I am obliged,’ he observed in a louder voice, ‘for the exposition you have given me of your ideals. As an Englishman, I am in entire sympathy, and wish you success in all your endeavours.’
Aziz Ullah had also risen. He bowed courteously.
‘It is indeed a pleasure to hear such words from your lips,’ he acknowledged. ‘I am happy to have had the opportunity of explaining to one whose understanding is so great. Go, and the peace of Allah be with you.’
He summoned Yusuf, bade him escort the Englishman from the camp. The two conspirators bowed to each other with solemn politeness, after which Kershaw followed his giant guide back to Mahommed Rashid and his pony. This time he observed no suspicious or hostile looks on the contrary, men eyed him approvingly, many called out salaam to him. His initial words on meeting The Master as well as a report of the latter’s friendly reception of him had been circulated. He of the hair that is red left an excellent impression behind him.