“I saw it, I did. The bloody Tippoo had it on his hat.
Large as life! Look in his hair.”
Kendrick obediently ran his fingers through Sharpe’s blood-encrusted
hair.
“Nothing there, Sarge.”
“Turn the bugger over and have a look you know where.”
“Not me!”
“Don’t be so bloody squeamish! And tie his hands. Fast now! You
don’t want the sod waking up, do you?”
The clothes and boots yielded sixty-three stones. There were rubies,
emeralds, sapphires and four small diamonds, but no large ruby.
Hakeswill frowned. Surely Sharpe would not have sold the ruby? Still,
he consoled himself, there was a fortune here, and he could not resist
putting all the stones together on a mat and staring at them.
“I do like a bit of glitter,” he breathed as his fingers greedily
touched the jewels. He put ten of the smaller stones in one pile,
another ten in a second, and pushed the two piles towards Kendrick and
Lowry.
“That’s your cut, boys.
Keep you in whores for the rest of your lives, that will.”
“Perhaps I will tell my uncle about your stones,” Sajit said, staring
at the jewels.
“I expect you will,” Hakeswill said, ‘and so bleeding what? I ain’t as
dozy as Sharpie. You won’t catch me.”
“Then maybe I shall tell Captain Torrance.” Sajit had positioned
himself close to the entrance so that he could flee if Hakeswill
attacked him.
“Captain Torrance likes wealth.”
Likes it too much, Hakeswill thought, and if Torrance knew about the
stones he would make Hakeswill’s life hell until he yielded a share.
The Sergeant’s face juddered in a series of uncontrollable twitches.
“You’re a bright lad, Sajit, ain’t you?” he said.
“You might be nothing but a bleeding heathen blackamoor but you’ve got
more than bullock dung for brains, ain’t you? Here.” He tossed Sajit
three of the stones.
“That keeps your tongue quiet, and if it don’t, I’ll cut it out and
have a feed on it. Partial to a plate of tongue, I am. Nice piece of
tongue, knob of butter and some gravy.
Proper food, that.” He pushed the rest of the stones into his pocket,
then stared broodingly at Sharpe’s naked trussed body.
“He had more,” Hakeswill said with a frown, “I know he had more.” The
Sergeant suddenly clicked his fingers.
“What about his pack?”
“What pack?” Lowry asked.
“The bleeding pack he carries, which he shouldn’t, being an officer,
which he ain’t. Where’s his pack?”
The privates shrugged. Sajit frowned.
“He had no pack when he came to the Captain’s house.”
“You’re sure?”
“He came on a horse,” Lowry said helpfully.
“It were a grey horse, and he didn’t have no pack.”
“So where’s the horse?” Hakeswill demanded angrily.
“We should look in its saddlebags!”
Lowry frowned, trying to remember.
“A bleeding kid had it,” he said at last.
“So where’s the kid?”
“He ran off,” Sajit said.
“Ran off?” Hakeswill said threateningly.
“Why?”
“He saw you hit him,” Sajit said.
“I saw it. He fell out of the tent.
There was blood on his face.”
“You shouldn’t have hit him till he was right inside the tent,”
Kendrick said chidingly.
“45
“Shut your bloody face,” Hakeswill said, then frowned.
“So where did the kid run?”
“Away,” Sajit said.
“I chased him, but he climbed onto the horse.”
“Kid don’t speak English,” Kendrick said helpfully.
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Cos I talked to him!”
“And who’s going to believe a heathen black kid what don’t speak
English?” Lowry asked.
Hakeswill’s face was racked by a quick series of twitches. He
suspected he was safe. Lowry was right. Who would believe the kid?
Even so the Sergeant wished that Jama’s men were coming earlier to
fetch Sharpe. Jama himself had gone away from the camp, reckoning that
if he was going to murder a British officer then it was best done a
long way from the British army. Hakeswill had warned Jama not to
expect Sharpe until the evening, and now he had to guard him until
dusk.
“I told you to put a bandage on his eyes,” Hakeswill snapped.
“Don’t want him to see us!”
“It don’t matter if he does,” Kendrick said.