She threw herself at Colonel Starr's feet,
and kissed them.
'Captan Sahib!' she quavered, 'Captan Sahib! Mirbani do!'[1]
[1] 'Give mercy.'
There was absolute silence in the audience hall. A parrakeet
flashed through it screaming. The shadows were creeping east over
the marble floor; a little sun flamed out on the hilt of Maun Rao's
sword. The Colonel stooped over the old woman and raised her up.
His face whitened as he looked at her.
'It's Tooni!' he said, hoarsely. And then, in a changed voice,
unconscious of the time and place, 'Tooni, what happened to the
memsahib?' he asked.
The ayah burst into an incoherent torrent of words and tears. The
memsahib was very, very ill, she said. There were not five breaths
left in her body. The memsahib had gone in the cart--and the chota
baba[1]--the Sonny Sahib--had always had good milk--and she had
taken none of the memsahib's ornaments, only her little black book
with the charm in it
[1] 'The little baby.'
'That is true talk,' interposed Sunni, 'Tooni's words are all true.
Here is the little black book.'
Colonel Starr had the face of a man in a dream, half conscious and
trying to wake up. His lips worked as he took the oilskin bag from
Sunni, and he looked at it helplessly. Little Lieutenant Pink took
it gently from him, slit it down the side with a pocket-knife, and
put back into the Colonel's hand the small leather-bound book.
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