“In future, so shall mine be, Mr. Thornfield.”
Mr. Thornfield sat forward again. “Lahore was filling with dangerous types in the vacuum naturally caused when a region destabilises. I’m afraid Sardar and I then made a decision still more stupid than stealing his sister’s unholy stock of jewels; fearful of the thieves swarming the city, we decided to hide ’em in plain sight, and employed Sahjara’s doll trunk. Sardar’s mum and my shameless buccaneering parents passed a delightful afternoon stuffing dolls with diamonds we’d pried out of their prongs and decorating their little bodies with precious stones. Sahjara was only five, but she had the finest French doll collection outside Paris, and when they were through, you might not have noticed it was anything but a trunk full of the most opulent chico’s toys on Earth.”
Raptly, I questioned, “Who did notice?”
“Augustus Sack,” Mr. Thornfield snarled. “We had told Sahjara that her trunk was forbidden for the time being, which was a fantastic error—she scarce ever touched those dolls in the first place, but we had reminded her of ’em, you see. When Sack returned to Lahore, the maggot, he went to Sardar’s house to pay respects and there she was, playing with a doll covered in rubies. Instead of waiting for Sardar, he asked Sahjara if she would show him the doll’s sisters, which she was happy to do. Sack recalled Lavell’s hysterics over Karman’s missing treasure, he added two and two together, and he decided they spelt blackmail.”
“How did he go about it?”
“Ah, there’s the clever part, that thrice-damned son of a bitch. He told Clements that Sardar and I must have stolen Karman’s jewels before the war broke out, recalled Lavell’s lamentations to Clements’s mind, and asked Clements, as honourable Company men, what should be done about it considering we were all such close mates? Then Sack suggested that, since Karman and Lavell were both dead, why should they not confront us privately, without bringing the Director into it, seizing the trunk and holding it in trust for Sahjara until she came of age? You can imagine how that would have played out.”
“How did it play out?”
“Exactly as they wanted it to, save for the fact the trunk had disappeared!” he exclaimed, slapping his palm against his thigh. “We had been keeping it quite in the open, not knowing Sack had designs on it. It was gone. It remains gone. Some lucky burcha came in through the window and is whoring his way through Kashmir to this very day.”
“What happened afterwards?”
“Sack thought that between Sardar, myself, and Sahjara, someone was playing the crooked cross, and someone knew where the trunk was.” His voice was full of stones. “He bullied us, threatened us, talked of chowkdars, of driving me out of the Company and Sardar out of Lahore.”
“You rebuffed them.”
“We thought that best.”
“Was it?”
Mr. Thornfield studied his stiff scarlet gloves where they yet lay upon the table, and not once did he look up until he had finished. “Sack ordered Sahjara abducted a week later by a half-caste badmash named Jack Ghosh he sometimes used for his dirty work. You not six hours ago killed Jack Ghosh, an act which I assure you deserves a medal and a pension. Sardar and I practically lost our minds when we had word that Ghosh would feed her when we had delivered the trunk to a secret locale. We, I remind you, did not have the trunk.”
My lips parted in horror. I thought of Sahjara—her complete candour, her keen black eyes—and could not help but shudder. She had never come downstairs, so I lived in hope that the events of the previous night had not touched her.
“How long did it take you to find her?”
“Four days,” he rasped. He pressed his hand over his mouth, then continued. “Clements knew nothing of the scheme, thinking Ghosh had acted alone after hearing of the trunk from Sack, so he was of no use in finding her, though he aided all our efforts—as for Sack, he made certain to be away from Lahore at the time, or I should have knocked her whereabouts straight from his skull. Sahjara was locked in a desert stable when we found her, by which I mean a tent with horses in it, all alone, her captor fled. Ghosh had kept her quiet by having her feed and brush and water the animals, telling her when she was finished, she could eat. She was never quite the same afterwards.”
Tears were streaming from my eyes. “Oh, Mr. Thornfield.”
“It’s not the worst event I’ve ever caused.” He laughed unsteadily. “Enough of this. We retrieved her. Of course we realised who was behind it all, but there was no evidence—only Sack’s knowing little smirk when I stormed into his offices raving over the kidnap. The Company was in full force by that time, secretaries and clerks thick as fleas, but Ghosh had fled and I couldn’t accuse Sack without exposing the original theft. So I went to my superior officers, begging for Ghosh to be found—they laughed in my face. What was the disappearance of a half-caste villain to the subjugation of an empire?”