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‘Um…Sahib?’
‘For heaven’s sake, Karim, what is it now?’
‘Do you perchance have needle and thread?’
‘I think I might have one somewhere,’ I lied. ‘Should I come and see if I can help—’
‘No! No, no everything is perfectly fine! Stay where you are!’
‘Oh, but if you need help I’d be only too happy to—’
‘No help required! I have everything under control!’
Rrrip!
‘Boo da boja Bhander Tutti!’
‘Everything still under control, Karim?’ I enquired solicitously.
‘Yes! Definitely!’
Scrape, Scrape.
Scratch.
‘Ng! Arg!’
Scrape!
Finally, Karim emerged from behind the bush. And when I say ‘emerged’, I mean…well I wasn’t exactly sure what I meant. He was walking rather funny.
‘Feeling a bit tight around the waist?’ I asked. ‘I know the feeling from my corset.’
He threw me a look that promised thunder and vengeance. Then he stepped up to Mr Ambrose, and bowed. Or at least he tried to. He got about halfway down before his face twisted and he grabbed his crotch.
‘Rrg! I’m ready, Sahib.’
‘Good. You know what to do. And…Karim?’
‘Yes, Sahib?’
‘Don’t let your trousers split.’
Muttering something incomprehensible in Punjabi, the Mohammedan swung back onto his horse. He wheeled the animal around and rode off into the forest.
‘What is he doing?’ I demanded. ‘The inn is that way!’
‘True. And what do you think, Mr Linton, would the governor-general think if he saw a messenger who is supposed to be arriving from India arrive from a direction that has no major ports within a hundred miles? Is the messenger supposed to have ridden all the way from India?’
‘Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Indeed.’
Even for one of his indeeds, that was indeed a particularly frosty indeed. Glancing over at him, I saw he was sitting unnaturally stiff in the saddle. Normally, this wouldn’t have worried me, since everything about him from his soul to his handkerchief was unnaturally stiff. But considering the way he was clutching his arm…
‘Are you all right, Mr Ambrose, Sir?’
‘Certainly.’
