Free Nurse in India by Juliet Armstrong Page A

if the old taboos were broken, the old gods defied.
    “Your Highness, perhaps I understand, just a little. But I have convictions as strong as yours. There is only one chance of saving the prince—to leave him in my hands.”
    “You arrogant upstarts of the West!” The thin lips curled. “All your knowledge comes to you from the East. Medicine was practiced and understood here when Europe was peopled by savages.”
    “True, but we have perfected the rudiments you taught us.” Stella spoke with patient courtesy. “Your Highness is too well informed to deny that the British, with all their faults, have saved millions and millions of Indian lives through their medical skill. Malaria, cholera and typhus claim fewer victims year by year.”
    “If we argue the benefits and curses of British rule in India we shall be here all night.” The old rani neatly evaded the issue. Then abruptly she changed her tactics. “Miss Hantley, I who am accustomed to order make a plea to you now. I love my little grandnephew, and if I must not nurse him I may surely visit him sometimes.” She fixed her eyes on Stella ’ s face. “You must often grow weary. Could I not take your place for a brief half hour, watching over him — ready to summon you should any change occur?”
    “I am afraid I must see him through this crisis without help from anyone.” Stella, remembering the disturbing incidents of the past few days, did not hesitate; not for five minutes would she trust her precious charge to the care of his fanatical greataunt. Heaven knew what poisonous concoctions she might in all good faith pour down his parched throat.
    “Yet others do help you. A low-caste ayah ! A foreign tutor, so addicted to drug taking that he cannot refrain from indulgence even at critical times like these. ”
    Stella suppressed a gasp at this bare-faced twisting of the truth. But the old woman, disregarding her went on bitterly, “And now this unspeakable Muslim. It is a strange state of affairs.”
    “Your Highness, let us be frank with each other. I can trust these people to carry out my orders. You, I know, would take the first opportunity to use your own methods.”
    “That may be your last word; it is certainly not mine!” The old rani ’ s eyes flashed, and drawing back the heavy silk curtains, she went swiftly out of the room.
    Lord, what on earth will she be up to now, Stella thought wearily as a moment later she made her way to the sickroom. She was immensely thankful to see Hussein ’ s figure lying across the threshold. With the sturdy old Muslim on guard, she and her little patient should be safe for a few hours at least.
    So intent was she on watching for any change of pulse or temperature during the crucial period that she soon dismissed the old woman ’ s threats from her mind; and when, about eleven o ’ clock the next morning, she became vaguely conscious of whispering and muffled exclamations in the corridors of the women ’ s quarter, she gave them no particular attention. Presently, however, feeling that all this chattering might disturb Prithviraj, she sent Jeythoo out with a message, asking for greater quiet, and on the ayah ’ s return heard a piece of news that succeeded, for a few minutes, in distracting her attention.
    The old rani, it seemed, had discovered that some of her most valuable jewels—a priceless set of emeralds—had been stolen, and all the rooms in the quarter were being searched.
    “I don ’ t care if all the crown jewels have been stolen,” she said sharply. “That noise has got to stop. If you can ’ t get them to be quiet, you must send Hussein to His Highness and ask him to come at once. ”
    “His Highness had already been sent for,” Jeythoo returned nervously. “And they say it is Hussein who is the chief cause of the commotion. They want to search your room, and he refuses to let them enter.”
    And then quite suddenly there was silence outside, and the next instant Chawand Rao ’ s