Death to the Landlords

sensed it, Purushottam found his voice the next moment; a more subdued voice than anyone would have expected, and a more reasonable.

‘You can hardly ask me to duck out now, if it means leaving one of my friends standing in for me here, where the danger is.’

His choice of phrase was not calculated; he was not, in fact, a person who ever did much calculating. Lakshman’s face lost its chill of correctness. He repeated firmly: ‘I am quite willing. I shall be well protected.’

‘But whatever could be done to protect you could also be done to protect me. Why should not I be the bait to catch this agent? For I take it that’s what you’re hoping for? Since I’m the one he’s after, I could serve the same purpose, surely, and serve it better.’

But it would not serve the same purpose at all, Dominic realised in a sudden rush of enlightenment. Not the purpose the Swami had in mind, not the purpose Inspector Raju had instantly perceived and approved, though he kept his mouth shut. The Swami had looked round the entire party with a detached eye, excluded Dominic because he knew him, and Priya – yes, quite positively he had acquitted Priya – for reasons of his own. That left Larry and Lakshman, who had travelled down here from the north together. On balance he had considered Lakshman, as an Indian, more likely to be involved in political mysteries than Larry, and there was also the point that the suggestion he had made could apply reasonably only to Lakshman. How seriously he rated this possibility there was no knowing; but it could not be excluded. The suggestion had been made primarily to see how Lakshman responded to it; and he had settled that without delay by his proud assent. Did that let him out altogether? Not necessarily. There might be Naxalites here, too, who could be contacted and used, and need not, in the last resort, be confided in. So the Swami would persist in his proposition. His design was to get Purushottam away from this house without his departure being known, and to hold Lakshman here in his place; and then to mount constant guard on him night and day. If he was innocent, and exactly what he seemed, he should be protected from harm. If he was guilty, he should be so lovingly watched and guarded that he should have no chance to smuggle out a word or a sign to any outside contact, to send other agents in pursuit of Purushottom. If he was innocent he would certainly be acting as bait for a police trap, and the few days’ grace they would be buying by the exchange might produce a satisfactory capture. If he was guilty, and clever enough, they would have purchased nothing but stalemate. He would sit tight and take no action, and they would make no discoveries. But it was worth a try.

‘And besides,’ Purushottam went on reasonably, ‘if they have decided on my execution, it’s because I’m a landowner. So my best defence is surely to go ahead as fast as I can with my plans to turn the estate into a co- operative farm, and stop being a land-owner.’

‘You are making the mistake,’ said Inspector Raju with a sour smile, ‘of expecting logic and principle to have some part in your enemies’ motivation. Fanatics recognise neither. They can decree hatreds; I doubt if they even know how to revoke one.’

‘Moreover,’ the Swami pointed out gently, ‘even if your faith was justified and they called off the hunt in your case, this same killer of men and girls would be free to turn his attention elsewhere. We are asking you rather to help us to capture him, and save the next life, not merely to conserve your own.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry, you’re quite right. But if I stay, and Lakshman goes on, how will the position be different?’ But he asked it as in duty bound, not vehemently; there was even a faint suggestion in his tone of reluctance to argue further.

It was Lakshman who provided the reasonable answer, and saved the Swami the trouble of finding plausible arguments to back his suggestion. Lakshman did it in the pure warmth of his response to being categorised ingenuously as a friend. Some answering gesture seemed called for, even if it had to be rather more self- conscious.

‘I think,’ he said, smiling, ‘that the Swami feels he would have a more tractable subject in me, one more likely to obey orders and be cautious about his own life. Perhaps we should all breathe more freely in feeling that you are safely away from here.’

‘In any case,’ added the Swami smoothly, ‘in a few days Lakshman also could be quietly dispatched to join you. It is simply a matter of covering your immediate retreat. The right number of people must be seen to leave, and someone must be seen to remain, to represent the master of the house. If no one is watching, well, we shall have taken pains to no purpose, but does that matter?’

‘I will stay,’ said Lakshman decisively.

Everyone looked at Purushottam, and Purushottam looked no less intently at the Swami, with a slightly baffled and curiously gratified expression, as if he had been conned into something he now realised he wanted to do.

‘Very well, if that’s what you wish, I will go.’

Inspector Tilak withdrew, no doubt gratefully, as soon as the conference broke up, and Inspector Raju departed with him, leaving two men under Sergeant Gokhale to spend the night on the premises. Dominic went down with them to their car.

‘Manpower with us is as much a problem as with the police elsewhere,’ said the inspector ruefully. ‘We can’t do more. It would not be wise, in any case, to draw attention to your party by attaching a police guard to it, even if we had a man to spare.’

‘We’re warned,’ said Dominic. ‘We shall be keeping a sharp look-out, But it seems we shall be leaving the centre of action here with you.’

‘If there is to be action. Too often the leopard withdraws into the jungle and is no more seen.’

‘Do you know where the French couple are – the Bessancourts?’

‘Last night, at Trivandrum. The night before they were at Quilon. Everyone appears to have done exactly what he proposed to do, and everyone has kept me informed.’

‘And the boat-boy? The one who wouldn’t stay at Thekady after the explosion? I think he expected to be the next!’

‘Romesh Iyar? He has been reporting regularly to the police at Tenkasi. In any case, of all of you who left after that murder, he has been under the most constant observation, for he has been working at the junction there, porter-ing on a casual basis. This evening he will be told – by now he has been told – that he can move on if he wishes, and need not report any longer. Why check on him further? He was working fifty miles away when the bomb that killed Miss Galloway was planted.’

‘And the Manis are at Tirunelveli. Only we,’ said Dominic sombrely, ‘were here.’ He thought of the Swami’s practical and necessary realism, and wondered if they had really travelled in company with the murderer’s accomplice who had now himself become a murderer. Useless pretending it was impossible, however hard it might