Claude looked puzzled for a moment and then hopeful. ‘You’re thinking we could all shout “Gone to earth” and go home to our tea? I must say, it would be a huge relief to come off watch.’

‘Good Lord!’ murmured Lois. ‘We’d all been concentrating so much on the idea of all the potential heirs being wiped off the slate . . . But who then? . . . The boy has a good number of people in his corner, including Claude – including me if it comes to that . . .’ She stopped in some embarrassment.

‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘the two murders do seem to have brought about a good result for the state . . . and for British interests. But look here, I’m just theorizing out loud. I’ve only been here two minutes and I could have it wrong. I’d be glad to hear from you, sir. Oh, and by the way – so would Sir George! He was complaining that he hadn’t had your report on the death of Bishan. And with the next one due now – well, better not let them pile up, eh?’

Vyvyan was silent for a moment. ‘I sent off a report as soon as I was certain of the facts,’ he said carefully, ‘about a week after the death. You’re saying that it never reached Sir George? I did wonder why he hadn’t taken action – until he dispatched you, that is. I kept a copy. Keep a copy of everything. You can see it if you want to.’ He stirred uncomfortably. ‘Must say, that makes me feel a bit . . . what? Overlooked? Besieged? Look, as a precaution, why don’t you carry a copy of my report on each of the deaths back with you in your saddle bag when you return to Simla? Just in case.’

‘I’d be pleased to do that,’ said Joe. ‘Look, sir, is there any chance – before we all get swept up on to elephants and off into the wilderness to try conclusions with this tiger – that I could have a word with Zalim Singh? On a purely unofficial level, of course.’

‘Shouldn’t be difficult to arrange,’ said Claude, stubbing out his cheroot, ‘but there’s someone else who’s asked to see you. Again. Bahadur in his new role of Yuvaraj wants to have a word. Said I’d take you along after lunch.’

‘I’d like very much to see him again. Our first interview was short and impromptu, you could say. But where’s he got to? He seems to be an elusive presence around the palace. Like a ball of quicksilver!’

‘That’s a pretty fair description,’ said Claude. ‘You never know where you’re going to stub your toe on him. He’s with Lizzie Macarthur for the day. She’s tutoring him in the natural history of Rajputana, I believe. Oh, she’s much more than a nanny. Studied at Oxford and a good teacher. Bahadur is devoted to her and she’s a steadying influence on his rather, um, volatile character.’

‘Quite a contrast between the two female influences in the boy’s life?’ suggested Joe.

Claude grunted. ‘You’re right there. His mother is totally uneducated, illiterate even, and that’s normal for village girls of her age but she’s a clever woman. Well, she’d have to be to retain such a hold over the ruler for so many years, I suppose. It would give her enormous consequence if – I mean when Bahadur inherits. If he didn’t she’d be left with nothing. Reduced to the ranks, you might say. And I suppose that’s already occurred to you?’

‘Yes, and I’ll tell you something else. The main players all seem to have one thing in common and that’s Surigargh. What are we looking at, sir? A sort of Mafia setup?’

‘Oh, very like that,’ Claude agreed. ‘Family connections, ruthless ambition, power struggles, vengeance . . . the Sicilians don’t have a patent on that, you know. And I can think of a few Scottish clans who would give the Rajputs a good run for their money,’ he added slyly.

‘You don’t annoy me with a remark like that, sir,’ said Joe easily. ‘I’m a Lowlander from the Borders. We rather look down on all that “wild Heeland” stuff. But Lizzie, now, she’s a Macarthur from . . . the shores of Loch Awe, I think. She’d understand!’

‘And she’d go a long way to protect that young charge of hers,’ said Claude. ‘In determination, I do believe she’d be the equal of that most famous of Rajput nursemaids . . . Do you know the story, Sandilands?’

Joe thought that he did but shook his head. He was enjoying hearing Claude, teasing information out of him, assessing his views, his alliances.

‘One turbulent night,’ Claude began, launching himself into the story with relish, ‘the palace of a Rajput princeling – and he no more than a baby lying in his cradle – was invaded by his wicked uncle and his bunch of cut-throat followers intent on killing his nephew and claiming the throne for himself. Not an unusual story but the next act in the drama was unusual – very. The nursemaid felt honour bound to defend the prince in the only way that to her seemed possible against such odds.’ He fell silent for a moment, the power of the well-known story still able to make him pause in the telling. ‘She snatched the prince from his cradle and put her own baby in his place. The murderous mob arrived and stabbed the nurse’s baby to death. The real prince was smuggled out of the palace and years later when he came of age he presented himself and eventually reclaimed his kingdom. The nursemaid is much honoured in Rajputana for her loyalty.’

‘Terrible, terrible story,’ murmured Joe. ‘And, yes, I can quite imagine it being told in the Gaelic round a turf fire of an evening!’

He eyed Claude covertly. In his easy conversational way, the Resident had presented Joe with four – or was it five? – potential heads on a platter. Joe watched him clap his hands and order more coffee to be brought. How could Joe describe the man’s mood? More than relaxed, he decided – elated, celebratory. But, after all, he had just been handed a significant position. And the key to the state treasury. An uneasy thought came to Joe: with the other heirs removed, Claude’s path to the regency was clear, with all the power and prestige that would flow from the position. Sir Claude and Lady Vyvyan? It sounded fitting. And after that? A governorship? The next Viceroy but two? Small wonder that the Resident and his wife were concerned for the welfare of the new Yuvaraj: Bahadur himself was the key which would unlock Claude’s glittering future.

Chapter Seventeen

A change had already come over Bahadur. The shadows had lifted and the boy’s good humour was beaming through.

‘Commander Sandilands!’ he exclaimed when Joe arrived, escorted by Claude, at Lizzie Macarthur’s rooms in the Old Palace. ‘I was hoping to see you! Tell me, sir, have you heard my good news?’ While he spoke he struggled out of the dark green laboratory apron he had been wearing and threw it impatiently on to the floor.

‘Indeed I have, and I congratulate you on your forthcoming elevation. The state of Ranipur is lucky in the choice of its successor,’ said Joe with a polite bow.

‘I have already conveyed my congratulations to the Yuvaraj,’ said Claude. ‘A happy day indeed!’

‘Well, if you two have finished clicking heels and playing courtiers . . .’ said Lizzie briskly, ‘there are matters I have to discuss with the Commander.’

‘Yes, indeed. Thank you, Mr Vyvyan, for escorting the Commander,’ said Bahadur. ‘We needn’t detain you.’

Claude flicked a raised eyebrow at Joe, smiled, bowed briefly in farewell and left.

‘Bahadur, my lad, why don’t you make yourself scarce for a while? Buzz off with Jaswant, why don’t you?’ She indicated a silent elderly Rajput dressed in the drab uniform of a royal forester who was standing in a corner of the room. He was unusually small and dark-skinned for a Rajput and such was the stillness of the man that it was some moments before Joe had even become aware of his presence.

Joe glanced around the book-lined room. Benches at work height took up three walls and Lizzie and her charge had been seated at tall stools surrounded by open books, bell jars, specimen cases and metal trays carrying rows of scientific implements. The ruler must have placed a valuable order with Zeiss, Joe thought, noting two further microscopes standing to attention on a bench. A blackboard in one corner carried a chalk drawing, showing, he guessed, the circulation of the blood. Joe smiled to see the recreation in miniature of what must have been the familiar academic surroundings of Lizzie’s youth.