Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1924)

32 Pict\ire s and Picture poer " You would send an innocent woman to her death hi cold blood'?" told them of the turn in events and he saw Lucilla's face go pale. " Lord knows," he muttered to himself, " where we can land in country like this, but — it's got to be attempted. That or smash-up." He began to descend. A town of some primitive community seemed to be below them — a wild rough place in wild, rough country. They caught glimpses of rock-hewn temples and once a gaudy and narrow splash of colour that might have been a bazaar. But nowhere was there a flat on which an aeroplane might be landed. Traherne circled round and round, coming lower and lower, his eyes keen as an eagle's, but soon the truth was forced upon him. Descend or remain flying, very soon they must crash. The thing was unavoidable. He selected his spot and attempted to crash as easily as possible. He found one little slope and side of a kind of natural amphitheatre, headed round, shut his eyes and risked it. Crash ! They had been at slowest speed and the impact was not so terrifying as might have been the case had they been unprepared. Traherne swung round and glanced along the car. Both Lucilla and her husband were shaken up but otherwise unhurt. They all climbed out. To their astonishment, they discovered that they were not alone. From bushes around the hollow came inquisitive black figures, crowding round in dozens, staring at the white strangers, touching the broken monoplane, babbling questions in a language that was not understood, bursting anon into Strange songs. One fellow, more daring than the rest, ventured to touch the check of Lucilla. Immediately the major sprang upon him and sent him crashing across the brown grass. Ami at this a wild tumult arose. ''Now," said Traherne. " we're in tor it. You've struck one of their priests." " Struck him? Killed him. I hope!" snarled Crespin. What might have happened to the tiny English party will never be known, for at that moment a gorgeouslydecorated litter made its way through the crowds, and before it the mob fell prostrate. The curtain parted, and from out the litter stepped a darkskinned man of middle age, tall and slim and altogether rather engaging in appearance. From his ornate headdress it was not difficult to tell that he was the monarch or ruling prince of the community. He bowed, and the Britishers bowed in return. He gracefully uttered some words in apology for the behaviour of his subjects and bade them welcome to his kingdom of Rukh. "' Of whicn," he said, " I am the Raja." "What!" cried Traherne. "Does your majesty speak English?" " Assuredly," said the Raja. " Am 1 not a graduate of vour University of Oxford?" From out the mob now came a peculiar and unexpected being in the traditional uniform of an English butler, a man who, moreover, was obviously English himself, but a furtive-eyed, uncertain-fingered member of the race. The Raja indicated him with a wave of his finger. " You must know Watkins," he said by way of introduction. " My valet, my butler, my man. Or; if you prefer it, my Prime Minister. An excellent and simple soul. So faithful ! He is, indeed, so excellently placed for faithful servitude in these remote hills. You must understand that in no part of the r.ritish Empire dare dear Watkins show his face. An excellent fellow altogether!" He turned to Watkins. "Watkins," he said, "procure another litter for my guests and 1 can then take them to my palace and display a APRIL 1924| little of the hospitality for which th Kingdom of Rukh is so famous." The litter was brought and side by side, the mob at a respectful distance they proceeded into the town and through the quaint Oriental streets to the wonderful palace perched on the top of the hill. " You will excuse me," said the Raja, " if I desert you for a few minutes in order to dress for dinner?" ' We," said Lucilla, " have nothin but the clothes we stand in. If we might be excused . . . ." " I think," said the Raja, " you will find us fully prepared for such an emergency. The Ayah will conduct you to your room, madam, and there you will find all the latest creations from Paris. I like, so far as possible, to keep in touch with the latest move ments of civilisation. My wardrobe is fairly complete." When they re-assembled for dinner the Raja was dressed in a faultless dress suit, looking, indeed, almost European but for the turban on his head. He proved the most charming of hosts, gossiped delightfully of acquaintances of his day in London and Paris, and even over the cigarettes produced a monster gramophone of the latest model and a case of the very latest songs from London. He smiled at their astonishment, and slipped on a record of a violin solo, a strange and haunting melody, beautiful but sad. " What — what is that?" asked Lucilla, when the tune came to an end. " That?" said the Raja. " It is called ' The Puppet's Death Song.' Very amusing." The music over they sat together and chatted. " And so," said the Raja, looking at them carefully, " you are subjects of the Government that has condemned three of our native princes to death, eh ?" Lucilla turned pale and both Traherne and Crespin started. " Why," cried the latter. " do you know them?" " Assuredly." said the Raja, rising and going across to the window. "They are my brothers." A strange silence fell upon the guests, so intense that the Raja himself was obliged to break it. "And they die — when is it? The day after to-morrow?" " The day after to-morrow, yes." said Crespin. " Yes." said the Raja. " Quite." All the populace of the place seemed gathered at the gates of the palace. There was a rattling of sticks and stones and the hoarse cries of an angry multitude. Crespin looked at the Raja who smiled politely as he explained. " My people," he said. *' Such barbarian ideas. They say that since your Government must kill our princes, so must we kill you. They have consulted their ruling deity, the Green Goddess, and she has promised them your lives. So crude, but ..." He broke off and shrugged elegantly.