Adventure Magazine Cover — page 163: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

_ manners. The Village of the Ghost He had been in the Indian service since childhood and possessed a familiarity rare in those days with the native languages and Malcolm’s homely face was ex- pressionless; his uniform and accoutrements were more than a little travel-stained. Cun- nigham, a stickler for the niceties, fancied that the new officer sent to him from Cal- cutta seemed dull, even indifferent. “Nothing very palpable, sir,’’ responded Malcolm. A Scot by birth, he was reticent and slow to express an opinion. “But, zounds! My dear fellow, your ex- perience with the natives must have taught you something. I am informed that you can do wonders.”’ “T regret, sir, that you have been misin- formed.” Malcolm surveyed his muddy boots gravely, noticing that the Resident was glancing at them with some choler. Cunningham was brave in finery of lace and red coat, London cut. ‘‘What is your Own opinion of the deaths, sir?”’ “Hia—you do not know?” The Resident chose to-forget that Malcolm had dis- mounted only that morning from a week’s ride to Agra. . “I judge that the story of the ghost has been devised to frighten us away from Bhir. Within Bhir are a number of wealthy Muhammadan merchants, who have bribed the lawless elements of the ghost’s village to kill our officials. Poor Powell, for instance, did not die until a month after leaving the castle. He was poisoned, be- cause, Captain Malcolm, no physician could diagnose his illness.”’ “He died here, at Agra?”’ “Yes. But my other friend vanished on the way hither—a victim to some. of the same cursed native witchery’’—Cunning- ham checked himself—‘trickery, I should say. Do you not think I am correct in this?” Malcolm considered his through a half-closed eye. “And you say that strange natives, trav- elers on the highway, were killed on this road?” CV an?! “Then you, sir, can not have the right answer to this. Because the men died, not in the ghost-village of Bhir, but after they had left Bhir.”’ The Resident, chagrined, coughed and took snuff without offering it to his com- panion. “Moreover,” pointed out the Scot mildly, dusty boot 153 “it—the mystery of the ghost—can hardly be merely an attempt to frighten us, sir. Not if other natives were killed by the same agency.” “Hum.” Cunningham smoothed the lace at his throat moodily. ‘I repeat, sir, it is all part and parcel of the same damnable plot against me—against us.”’ A quick smile rendered the Scot’s hard face agreeable. “Sir, you will permit me to appeal to your own knowledge of native superstitions. Ghosts, to a Moslem, are nothing super- natural; and to a Hindu they form part of his religion. A native is seized with an epileptic fit; his family pay tribute to the suspected ghost; the man, perhaps, recovers and all is well—if he dies the ghost was not sufficiently propitiated. Haunts, distem- per and demon-ridding are all part of their scheme of existence.”’ “Well, sir?” “Tt would never occur to the Bhiris to frighten away sahibs by a tale of what is fo them perfectly natural phenomena.” “Ah.” There was respect in the Resi- dent’s ejaculation. But it was with a dry smile that he drew a folded yellow sheet from the pocket of his coat. ‘Here, Mal- colm, is evidence to support my view. Powell brought it back with him, having found it in the possession of one of the Bhir landholders.”’ Malcolm studied the sheet and saw that it was a lease deed, made out in the ordinary form, dated about a hundred and twenty years ago. The lessee was a Moslem of Bhir and the deed was made out on behalf of the ghost of Bhir. “Sheer hocus-pocus,” shrugged Cunning- ham. ‘Powell related that even up to three years ago all deeds in Bhir village were made out with the ghost as proprietor.” ‘‘And so, because Powell and the other usurped the place of the ghost, they died.” Cunningham laughed uncertainly. “You believe that? Really, I am sur- prized! Why, the name of the ghost-pro- prietor appears “As Dom Gion. A curious name.” *““More fiddiededee! It is not even the name of a native.’ “Well, sir.”” Malcolm looked up seriously. ‘“‘Jaswat Das assured us that the familiar spirit of Bhir wore a full-length black cloak —which is not a native garment.. In fact it smacks of the, ah—demoniac. The deed CO MICLOOKS C©