The Inspector read the last half page. "But--but," he stammered, "this is impossible. White men don't write this sort of stuff."
"Don't they, just?" said the Governor. "They get made Cabinet Ministers for doing it too. I went home last year. I know."
"It'll blow over," said the Inspector weakly.
"Not it. Groombride is coming down here to investigate the matter in a few days."
"For himself?"
"The Imperial Government's behind him. Perhaps you'd like to look t my orders." The Governor laid down an uncoded cable. The whiplash to it ran: "You will afford Mr. Groombride every facility for his inquiry, and will be held responsible that no obstacles are put in his way to the fullest possible examination of any witnesses which he may consider necessary. He will be accompanied by his own interpreter, who must not be tampered with."
"That's to me--Governor of the Province!" said Peter the Governor.
"It seems about enough," the Inspector answered.
Farag, kennel-huntsman, entered the saloon, as was his privilege.
"My uncle, who was beaten by the Father of Waterwheels, would approach, O Excellency," he said, "and there are others on the bank."
"Admit," said the Governor.
There tramped aboard sheikhs and villagers to the number of seventeen. In each man's hand was a copy of the pamphlet; in each man's eye terror and uneasiness of the sort that Governors spend and are spent to clear away. Farag's uncle, now Sheikh of the village, spoke: "It is written in this book, Excellency, that the beatings whereby we hold our lands are all valueless. It is written that every man who received such a beating from the Father of Waterwheels who slow the Emirs, should instantly begin a lawsuit, because the title to his land is not valid."
"It is so written. We do not wish lawsuits. We wish to hold the land as it was given to us after the days of the Oppression," they cried.
The Governor glanced at the Inspector. This was serious. To cast doubt on the ownership of land means, in Ethiopia, the letting in of waters, and the getting out of troops.
"Your titles are good," said the Governor. The Inspector confirmed with a nod.
"Then what is the meaning of these writings which came from down the river where the Judges are?" Farag's uncle waved his copy. "By whose order are we ordered to slay you, O Excellency Our Governor?"
"It is not written that you are to slay me."
"Not in those very words, but if we leave an earth unstopped, it is the same as though we wished to save Abu Hussein from the hounds. These writings say: 'Abolish your rulers.' How can we abolish except we kill? We hear rumours of one who comes from down the river soon to lead us to kill."
"Fools!" said the Governor. "Your titles are good. This is madness!"
"It is so written," they answered like a pack.
"Listen," said the Inspector smoothly. "I know who caused the writings to be written and sent. He is a man of a blue-mottled jowl, in aspect like Bigglebai who ate unclean matters. He will come up the river and will give tongue about the beatings."
"Will he impeach our land-titles? An evil day for him!"
"Go slow, Baker," the Governor whispered. "They'll kill him if they get scared about their land."
"I tell a parable." The Inspector lit a cigarette. "Declare which of you took to walk the children of Milkmaid?"
"Melik-meid First or Second?" said Farag quickly.
"The second--the one which was lamed by the thorn."
"No--no. Melik-meid the Second strained her shoulder leaping my water-channel," a sheikh cried. "Melik-meid the First was lamed by the thorns on the day when Our Excellency fell thrice."
"True--true. The second Melik-meid's mate was Malvolio, the pied hound," said the Inspector.
"I had two of the second Melik-meid's pups," said Farag's uncle. "They died of the madness in their ninth month."
"And how did they do before they died?" said the Inspector.
"They ran about in the sun, and slavered at the mouth till they died."
"Wherefore?"
"God knows. He sent the madness. It was no fault of mine."
"Thy own mouth hath answered thee." The Inspector laughed. "It is with men as it is with dogs. God afflicts some with a madness. It is no fault of ours if such men run about in the sun and froth at the mouth. The man who is coming will emit spray from his mouth in speaking, and will always edge and push in towards his hearers. When ye see and hear him ye will understand that he is afflicted of God: being mad. He is in God's hands."
"But our titles--are our titles to our lands good?" the crowd repeated.
"Your titles are in my hands--they are good," said the Governor.
"And he who wrote the writings is an afflicted of God?" said Farag's uncle.
"The Inspector hath said it," cried the Governor. "Ye will see when the man comes. O sheikhs and men, have we ridden together and walked puppies together, and bought and sold barley for the horses that after these years we should run riot on the scent of a madman--an afflicted of God?"
"But the Hunt pays us to kill mad jackals," said Farag's uncle. "And he who questions my titles to my land "
"Aahh! 'Ware riot!" The Governor's hunting-crop cracked like a three-pounder. "By Allah," he thundered, "if the afflicted of God come to any harm at your hands, I myself will shoot every hound and every puppy, and the Hunt shall ride no more. On your heads be it. Go in peace, and tell the others."
"The Hunt shall ride no more," said Farag's uncle. "Then how can the land be governed? No--no, O Excellency Our Governor, we will not harm a hair on the head of the afflicted of God. He shall be to us as is Abu Hussein's wife in the breeding season."
When they were gone the Governor mopped his forehead.
"We must put a few soldiers in every village this Groombride visits, Baker. Tell 'em to keep out of sight, and have an eye on the villagers. He's trying 'em rather high."
"O Excellency," said the smooth voice of Farag, laying the Field and Country Life square on the table, "is the afflicted of God who resembles Bigglebai one with the man whom the Inspector met in the great house in England, and to whom he told the tale of the Mudir's Cranes?"
"The same man, Farag," said the Inspector.
"I have often heard the Inspector tell the tale to ,Our Excellency at feeding-time in the kennels; but since I am in the Government service I have never told it to my people. May I loose that tale among the villages?"
* * * * *
The Governor nodded. " No harm," said he.
The details of Mr. Groombride's arrival, with his interpreter, whom he proposed should eat with him at the Governor's table, his allocution to the Governor on the New Movement, and the sins of Imperialism, I purposely omit. At three in the afternoon Mr. Groombride said: "I will go out now and address your victims in this village."
"Won't you find it rather hot?" said the Governor. "They generally take 'a nap till sunset at this time of year."
Mr. Groombride's large, loose lips set. "That," he replied pointedly, "would be enough to decide me. I fear you have not quite mastered your instructions. May I ask you to send for my interpreter? I hope he has not been tampered with by your subordinates."
He was a yellowish boy called Abdul, who had well eaten and drunk with Farag. The Inspector, by the way, was not present at the meal.
"At whatever risk, I shall go unattended," said Mr. Groombride. "Your presence would cow them -from giving evidence. Abdul, my good friend, would you very kindly open the umbrella?"
He passed up the gang-plank to the village, and with no more prelude than a Salvation Army picket in a Portsmouth slum, cried: "Oh, my brothers!"
He did not guess how his path had been prepared. The village was widely awake. Farag, in loose, flowing garments, quite unlike a kennel huntsman's khaki and puttees, leaned against the wall of his uncle's house. "Come and see the afflicted of God,." he cried musically, "whose face, indeed, resembles that of Bigglebai."