win round the bend and land thee at Fatteh Mahomed's island itself." So this was done, and Hassanali came to Fatteh Mahomed and told his story. But, alas for his hopes! he merely heard that Imamali had never arrived at his destination. Hassanali returned to Pir-jo-goth in greater bewilderment than ever, and sought the help of the Police, a step that no man takes except in extremity. He gave information to the Fouzdar that Imamali had disappeared, and no trace of him was to be found. The Fouzdar was not deeply interested, as there was no definite report of a crime, and disappearances are common enough in Upper Sind, especially when the floods come. Many a corpse is picked out of the canals as a supposed case of drowning, in wilful disregard of the crushed skull or gunshot wound, lest the finders be compelled to travel many miles, and spend much time and money in attending court to give evidence. The river itself carries for hundreds of miles in its swift current the bodies of murdered enemies, of faithless wives, and suspected adulterers. The inundation is the season for the paying off of scores. Besides, there are real accidents of drowning, though it may be suspected that these furnish the minority of corpses. So the Fouzdar made no special effort, but waited till his other duties took him in that direction, when he questioned Yakubkhan, Allahbux, Chand, and Jam, and wrote down their statements. These all professed to know no more than they had told to Hassanali. About this time the whisper went abroad that the Hurs had killed Imamali for being an enemy of the Pir-a bare rumour without details, current in the bazaars. The Fouzdar of Pir-jo-goth may have heard it, but did not pursue the clue. He perhaps did not know the story of the treasure, for that was a secret supposed to be confined to higher officials. None of Imamali's friends, not even Hassanali himself, gave open information of this suspicion to the Police in Pir-jogoth, so great was their dread of the Hurs. Thirty miles to the north, on the left bank of the river, opposite Sukkur, is the town of Rohri, where lived a railway contractor named Alibux. His daughter had been abducted by an amorous zemindar, and he was at great pains to rescue her with the help of the Police. He happened to be an old friend of Imamali, and, moved to indignation at his fate, made a special visit to the local Police Inspector, whom he had found worthy of trust in his own difficulties, and informed him, under the strictest promise that his name as informant should not be divulged, that the Hurs had murdered Imamali. The Inspector was a man of considerable character. He suspected that his men could not be relied on, and the case was of importance, since some as a score of others, put off of the vazirs might be impli- from the quay at Sukkur, and cated-in fact, Alibux hinted dropped as much, so he went at once to the District Superintendent, and urged that the case should be handed over to the C.I.D. A telegram to Karachi brought Deputy Superintendent Chaturdas on the scene. This officer was a born detective. Accustomed to being called into cases in which the district police had failed, his method was to study the previous course of the inquiry and try to discover some reason why it was unsuccessful. This he did now in Sukkur before approaching the scene; and he decided that travelling slowly by camel along the way taken by Imamali with the professed object of investigating had given those concerned a chance to concert a story, and take measures to prevent the truth from leaking out; so he devised a means of projecting himself suddenly among the evil-doers without warning. And it also appeared to him that the witnesses likely to know most, and at the same time to be least interested in concealment, were the Muhana and his son. For they had been the last to see the illfated Imamali, and were the least likely to have killed him. An old man of humble degree and a boy of twelve are not the stuff of which assassins are usually made. One evening, as soon as darkness fell, an ordinary riverboat, which seemed the same quietly down the stream. The serang and his crew of three were of the Punjab, whence they had just arrived with a cargo, unloaded that morning. Chaturdas and half a dozen policemen in plain clothes, specially selected because their homes were in distant villages and they could have no friends or connections in the neighbourhood, composed themselves to slumber on the deck, for they expected to be early astir next morning. The majestic river, sweeping on under a cloudless starry sky, bore them swiftly southwards out of the Sukkar gorge and into the open plain. Keeping in the powerful current of mid-stream they covered mile after mile, until, when the dawn began to appear in the east, they drew in towards the mouth of the dhand between the village of Yakubkhan and Fatteh Mahomed's island. Here, before reaching the entrance of the of the dhand, they brought the boat ashore behind a sandhill, landed, and ate their morning meal, as they were still too early for their purpose. At length they saw boats moving about in the distance as though the fishermen were beginning their day's work; so they re-embarked and poled onwards round the curve and into the channel that flowed towards Yakubkhan's, the police lying hidden behind the boat's sides. Chaturdas sat in the stern, and scanned the : 66 face of the waters for a boat self was next brought into the with a crew of an old man and a boy. Several fishermen they passed without any word said except such greeting as was necessary to avert suspicion. At length they came upon what they sought an old man and a boy far out from shore preparing to cast their nets. As if casually they approached, and exchanged some ordinary greeting. Then suddenly they ranged alongside, and three stalwart sepoys boarded the smaller craft, putting terror into father and son. Instantly the trembling boy was seized and handed up to Chaturdas, and the two boats drew apart, to the accompaniment of tears and curses from the victims of this surprise. The police officer, no doubt a kind and amiable character in private life, was ready to play any part that the circumstances seemed to demand, and he now assumed a ferocious aspect, glaring with beetling brows at the timid child. "I am the Sircar," said he. "I catch evildoers and shut them in jail; murderers and their sons I always have beaten and tortured before they are hanged. Take care lest through thy fault in not telling the truth thou and thy father come to this end! I am the police!" -and so on in this strain, until Jam was quite ready to tell all he knew, for there is little difficulty in browbeating a boy of his years. Thus the whole story came out, and was written down in detail. Chand him police boat, and confronted to take across the dhand.' nothing of it. I will take the Yakubkhan is our malik. So Koran in the mosque and we poled and rowed back against the stream; and as we laboured with the boat I saw three men swimming across the dhand on inflated goatskins towards the west, where then there was an island that is now under water, close by Fatteh Mahomed's island. Those men had hatchets thrust into their turbans-small hatchets such as we use to cut grass. They were some furlongs distant. They swam strongly, like young men. I could not see their faces then. They landed on the island, and went from my sight behind a sandhill. After a while we drew into the bank at the village landing-place, where stood Yakubkhan himself and the vazir Imamali, taking leave of each other. 'Come with me Fatteh Mahomed, Allahbuxsahib,' said the vazirsahib, 'I hear that the nautch-girl from Rohri who sings "Oh, Jamalo " -she of the beady eyes-is with him, and his Sidis will wrestle as usual,' but Allahbux excused himself. Well, it was strange that a young man like Allahbux should refuse an invitation like that, and the vazirsahib was not well pleased; but he said no more. He sat in our boat, and my son and I ferried him across to the small island, where he landed; and after we gave him our salaams he walked on alone. Well, his fate was upon him, and he was walking to his death. No, by the Koran, I swear, I knew swear; yes, in the mosque of my own village, where my house and my field are, and they will suffer calamity if I swear falsely. There was driftwood on the shore, and we, being poor people, lingered to gather it, when we heard a cry for help in the voice of Imamali. Then we both ran to the top of the sandhill, and looked beyond to see what had befallen him; and we beheld him beset by three men, armed with axes, those three who had swum the dhand. They smote him till he fell dead, stricken with many wounds. Yes, I know those men. I saw them close enough. They are Alahando, Ghulam Haider, and Musso of the village of Bilshah, one kos from here. Are they Hurs? Who knows? By the name of God, I am not a Hur. I am a poor Muhana, the man of Yakubkhan. He may be a Hur. What do I know? Well, Alahando saw us on the rim of the slope and ran at us, lifting on high his blood-stained axe, and swearing that if we told any man of what we had seen we should die the death of the axe even as Imamali. See, O Muhanas ! Thus die the enemies of the Pir. Take heed lest your house be burnt and your women put to shame! Be gone and be silent.' In great fear we turned and ran back to our boat, pushed it off, and hastily poled forth on to the dhand. That same night those three men came to my hut, and swore us and cajolery were employed; to silence with the most dreadful threats. When the Fouzdar came, therefore, we lied, for the same men again threatened us, and of a truth they will now kill us, or if not they, then some other Hurs in their stead." Here the old man broke down and wept, and wrung his hands in despair, begging for protection from the fate he feared. In answer to further questions, he said the slayers were of the tribe of Mirans, who were very numerous near Yakubkhan's village and in the village of Bilshah; and if the police would wait till evening they would be found in their homes and easily captured. He knew nothing more, nor could he say how or where they had disposed of the corpse of Imamali. For the rest of the day the two boats made a pretence of fishing. Then after evening fell the police landed secretly, and, guided by the Muhanas, descended on Bilshah, where they surrounded the houses of the three murderers and arrested them. Other police help was called in, and then began a strenuous search for further evidence. Yakubkhan, Allahbux, Chand, and Jam were almost in the position of accomplices, whose word at a trial might be looked on with doubt, and something more was needed to ensure a conviction. A mighty inquiry was conducted for a whole week. Some say threats and pressure, trickery, that men were beaten and tortured and women threatened with shame, but such rumours are always spread, and in this case nothing of the sort was ever proved. Some say Alahando's brother, against whom there was no evidence whatever, was purposely arrested, so as to leave no male in his family to attend to the lands and crops and cattle, and above all, to see that his women did not go astray or remain without protection, a most serious matter in a region of amorous intrigue where passions run high. Be that as it may, Alahando did promise to turn King's evidence, and at that very time when he was taken before the District Magistrate of Sukkur, and in return for a tendered pardon made a full and complete confession, his brother was released from custody. It may, of course, be a coincidence that these two events happened on the same day. The confession is an interesting document, and seems to portray a state of feeling and a mode of action more suitable to a story from the Arabian Nights than to the official record of a modern British dependency. The gist of it was to this effect: "I am a Hur, my family are Hurs, the other accused Ghulam Haider and Musso are Hurs, and so also Yakubkhan and Allahbux. The word went forth among the Hurs that Imamali was an enemy of the Pir. Who started that saying I know |