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relatively aggressive border patrol, which is frankly unusual in a native
state although border guards are by no means forbidden under the treaty, it
would have been brought to our attention had the Resident been there. One of
the neighbouring states has issued a complaint that its nawab s daughter is
missing, stolen into Khanpur, although from the girl s reputation, they ll
probably find her in Bombay with a lover. And there have been a number of
unsubstantiated complaints concerning the ill-treatment of his people a young
man who made speeches in Khanpur city has vanished, and bazaar rumour has it
he s been fed to the maharaja s pet lions, which is slightly absurd. Another
whisper concerns a concubine killed in a fit of pique, which is a rumour I
hear at least twice a year from all over the country, that when investigated
has proved true once, to my memory. And a rumour of a train from Moscow
carrying three dismantled German aeroplanes, which went missing at the end of
the train line. These are, of course, all things which the Resident would have
investigated, if he d been there. But added to the maharaja s visit to Moscow,
when we had only known of his being in Europe, and compounded by his
invitation to a young man with known Bolshevik contacts and sympathies, then,
yes, it is time we had a closer look inside the state.
I had been involved with this life long enough to hear unspoken messages
behind a monologue; I waited for the man to work around to what he wanted of
us.
Holmes, too, was clearly impatient to hear the man s proposal, and urged him
onward with the dry observation,  To say nothing of the matter of three dead
agents, tortured and robbed of their charms, all found dead within twenty
miles of the Khanpur border.
Nesbit grunted unhappily.  You came to this country to look for Kimball
O Hara, he said, then stopped again to reach for the brandy decanter and pour
himself a couple of undiluted inches. I was starting to feel positively
apprehensive about this. Whatever his point was, he clearly did not expect us
to like it much.  On the voyage out, this other matter came to your attention,
and you brought it to me.
Holmes had had enough.  Come, man, get it off your chest. Are you saying you
wish us to go to Khanpur for you?
 Yes, Nesbit said, sounding relieved.  But it s not just here, let me show
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you what I m getting at. He abandoned his drink and went to a low, deep
cabinet on the wall, opening one of its shallow drawers and pulling out two
maps. He cleared the glasses from the table and smoothed the first page out
before us, a map of all India, its long triangle heavily marked with irregular
blue shapes that covered nearly all of the north and a great deal of the
centre: the princely states.
I blinked in surprise.  I hadn t quite realised how much of the country is in
private hands.
 A third of the land, a quarter of the people. Native states hold some of the
richest agricultural land, diamond mines, key passes into Afghanistan and
Tibet. His finger tapped a place heavily marked by topographical lines,
orientating us to the whole.  Here s Simla. There s Delhi, he added, touching
his finger to the city three inches south, then dragging it up in the opposite
direction.  The Afghan border here; Tibet; Kashmir up here, and just below it,
looking deceptively small and out-of-the-way, lies Khanpur. When we had
absorbed its setting, he plucked the other map from the floor and allowed it
to settle over the first.
Where the first map had been a product of some government printing agency, a
cooperative effort with more detail than personality, this page was a work of
art, a depiction of the northernmost knob of the Indian nation, lettered by a
hand both neat and familiar. I bent over it to be sure.
 Yes, Nesbit said,  this is O Hara s work. It took him five years walking
every hill and track, counting those steps on his Tibetan prayer-beads,
recording what he had seen and done each night on the back of a sheet inside [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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