‘Yes, sahib. I thank very much, sahib. Raghav he not afraid of tiger.’

Garratt swore and picked up his reins, his mare stock-still as Lot’s wife. He made much of her. Even a cavalry charger shouldn’t have to suffer a blunderbuss going off next her – and a tiger springing.

She whinnied after a while, and Garratt got back into the saddle. ‘Now,’ he said, taking his telescope from its holster; ‘how is our tethered goat – goats indeed.’

The light was fast fading, but there was Askew at his post still, and perfectly upright.

‘Good man; good man!’

His orders had been that no one was to move – tiger or no – until he himself gave the word. He didn’t for one minute think there’d be yet another beast, but he’d known of more than one piquet that had shot a sentry of its own who’d moved to ease himself or the like.

All looked clear.

‘Come on, Raghav, let’s away.’

‘Sahib, what of tiger? He many rupee.’

‘Damn it, man; how in heaven’s name d’you propose we skin it? He’s jackal meat, unless the village bring him in.’

He’d try to get them to, of course. The tiger was no great size, and he’d certainly prize the pair of skins – tigress and progeny. But he’d no intention of trying to find it in the dark with them, not with a long hack to barracks afterwards, his stomach empty and his throat dry – even if he could get the village to search. He’d just have to trust to promising more silver.

They trotted smartly to the tree. Askew saluted. Corporal Simpson cantered up looking anxious, having thought he’d get there to untie him before Garratt saw.

‘Damned useless goat,’ was all that Garratt said, though, ignoring the rope. He’d not remark on Askew binding himself to the tree, like Odysseus to the mast to resist the sirens. If that’s what it took, then all the greater his courage …

‘Would you cut me free, Corporal Simpson, please?’ asked the prisoner calmly.

Simpson’s sabre did quick work. Garratt, new-come still in so much, could but admire the deftness with which dragoons handled the arme blanche – though a little more practice with the carbine wouldn’t go amiss …

But now that he looked – that knot, a reef, surely? And the other side of the trunk. How on earth could Askew have tied it?

VII

Major Sleeman

The governor’s council chamber, a week later

The introductions were a little stiff. Hervey was not in the best of spirits, for an attack of the remittent fever had kept him in his bed for the whole of the two days before. And although Milne had dosed him so powerfully with an antipyretica, as he called it, that he’d been on his feet again that morning, his head was by no means entirely free of the pounding that accompanied the sweats. (Or perhaps it was, as the saying went, the heavy fire of medicinal artillery?) Besides, he was conscious of his position as a commanding officer of cavalry, as well as a brevet colonel – not to mention acting commander-in-chief in the absence of Sir Robert O’Callaghan. This visitor was important – superintendent of the Thagi Daftar (department) of Jubbulpore, no less – but he wished first to be sure that his importance was of consequence.