loreChurtonlaughed,saidthathefeltbetterforhistiffin,andwentoutPackhadbeentiffiningbyhimselftotherightofthearch,andhadheardeverythingHewasnearlymadwithhisabsurdinfatuationforMissHollisthatallSimlahadbeenlaughingabout。
Itisacuriousthingthat,whenamanhatesorlovesbeyondreason,heisreadytogobeyondreasontogratifyhisfeelingsWhichhewouldnotdoformoneyorpowermerelyDependuponit,SolomonwouldneverhavebuiltaltarstoAshtarothandallthoseladieswithqueernames,iftherehadnotbeentroubleofsomekindinhiszenana,andnowhereelseButthisisbesidethestoryThefactsofthecasearethese:PackcalledonChurtonnextdaywhenChurtonwasout,lefthiscard,andSTOLEtheBisaraofPooreefromitsplaceundertheclockonthemantelpiece!StoleitlikethethiefhewasbynatureThreedayslater,allSimlawaselectrifiedbythenewsthatMissHollishadacceptedPack——theshrivelledrat,Pack!Doyoudesireclearerevidencethanthis?TheBisaraofPooreehadbeenstolen,anditworkedasithadalwaysdonewhenwonbyfoulmeans。
Therearethreeorfourtimesinaman’slife-whenheisjustifiedinmeddlingwithotherpeople’saffairstoplayProvidence。
TheManwhoKnewfeltthatheWASjustified;butbelievingandactingonabeliefarequitedifferentthingsTheinsolentsatisfactionofPackasheambledbythesideofMissHollis,andChurton’sstrikingreleasefromliver,assoonastheBisaraofPooreehadgone,decidedtheManHeexplainedtoChurtonandChurtonlaughed,becausehewasnotbroughtuptobelievethatmenontheGovernmentHouseListsteal——atleastlittlethingsButthemiraculousacceptancebyMissHollisofthattailor,Pack,decidedhimtotakestepsonsuspicionHevowedthatheonlywantedtofindoutwherehisruby-studdedsilverboxhadvanishedtoYoucannotaccuseamanontheGovernmentHouseListofstealing。
AndifyouriflehisroomyouareathiefyourselfChurton,promptedbyTheManwhoKnew,decidedonburglaryIfhefoundnothinginPack’sroombutitisnotnicetothinkofwhatwouldhavehappenedinthatcase。
PackwenttoadanceatBenmore——BenmoreWASBenmoreinthosedays,andnotanoffice——anddancedfifteenwaltzesoutoftwenty-twowithMissHollisChurtonandTheMantookallthekeysthattheycouldlayhandson,andwenttoPack’sroominthehotel,certainthathisservantswouldbeawayPackwasacheapsoulHehadnotpurchasedadecentcash-boxtokeephispapersin,butoneofthosenativeimitationsthatyoubuyfortenrupeesItopenedtoanysortofkey,andthereatthebottom,underPack’sInsurancePolicy,laytheBisaraofPooree!
ChurtoncalledPacknames,puttheBisaraofPooreeinhispocket,andwenttothedancewithTheManAtleast,hecameintimeforsupper,andsawthebeginningoftheendinMissHollis’seyes。
Shewashystericalaftersupper,andwastakenawaybyherMamma。
Atthedance,withtheabominableBisarainhispocket,ChurtontwistedhisfootononeofthestepsleadingdowntotheoldRink,andhadtobesenthomeinarickshaw,grumblingHedidnotbelieveintheBisaraofPooreeanythemoreforthismanifestation,buthesoughtoutPackandcalledhimsomeuglynames;and“thief“
wasthemildestofthemPacktookthenameswiththenervoussmileofalittlemanwhowantsbothsoulandbodytoresentaninsult,andwenthiswayTherewasnopublicscandal。
Aweeklater,PackgothisdefinitedismissalfromMissHollis。
Therehadbeenamistakeintheplacingofheraffections,shesaid。
SohewentawaytoMadras,wherehecandonogreatharmevenifhelivestobeaColonel。
ChurtoninsisteduponTheManwhoKnewtakingtheBisaraofPooreeasagiftTheMantookit,wentdowntotheCartRoadatonce,foundanekkaponywithabluehead-necklace,fastenedtheBisaraofPooreeinsidethenecklacewithapieceofshoe-stringandthankedHeaventhathewasridofadangerRemember,incaseyoueverfindit,thatyoumustnotdestroytheBisaraofPooreeIhavenottimetoexplainwhyjustnow,butthepowerliesinthelittlewoodenfishMisterGubernatisorMaxMullercouldtellyoumoreaboutitthanI。
YouwillsaythatallthisstoryismadeupVerywellIfeveryoucomeacrossalittlesilver,ruby-studdedbox,seven-eighthsofaninchlongbythree-quarterswide,withadark-brownwoodenfish,wrappedingoldcloth,insideit,keepitKeepitforthreeyears,andthenyouwilldiscoverforyourselfwhethermystoryistrueorfalse。
Betterstill,stealitasPackdid,andyouwillbesorrythatyouhadnotkilledyourselfinthebeginning。
THEGATEOFAHUNDREDSORROWS。
“IfIcanattainHeavenforapice,whyshouldyoubeenvious?”
OpiumSmoker’sProverb。
ThisisnoworkofmineMyfriend,GabralMisquitta,thehalf-
caste,spokeitall,betweenmoonsetandmorning,sixweeksbeforehedied;andItookitdownfromhismouthasheansweredmyquestionsso:——
ItliesbetweentheCopper-smith’sGullyandthepipe-stemsellers’
quarter,withinahundredyards,too,asthecrowflies,oftheMosqueofWazirKhanIdon’tmindtellinganyonethismuch,butI
defyhimtofindtheGate,howeverwellhemaythinkheknowstheCityYoumightevengothroughtheverygullyitstandsinahundredtimes,andbenonethewiserWeusedtocallthegully,“theGullyoftheBlackSmoke。”butitsnativenameisaltogetherdifferentofcourseAloadeddonkeycouldn’tpassbetweenthewalls;and,atonepoint,justbeforeyoureachtheGate,abulgedhouse-frontmakespeoplegoalongallsideways。
Itisn’treallyagatethoughIt’sahouseOldFung-TchinghaditfirstfiveyearsagoHewasaboot-makerinCalcuttaTheysaythathemurderedhiswifetherewhenhewasdrunkThatwaswhyhedroppedbazar-rumandtooktotheBlackSmokeinsteadLateron,hecameupnorthandopenedtheGateasahousewhereyoucouldgetyoursmokeinpeaceandquietMindyou,itwasapukka,respectableopium-house,andnotoneofthosestifling,swelteringchandoo-khanas,thatyoucanfindallovertheCityNo;theoldmanknewhisbusinessthoroughly,andhewasmostcleanforaChinamanHewasaone-eyedlittlechap,notmuchmorethanfivefeethigh,andbothhismiddlefingersweregoneAllthesame,hewasthehandiestmanatrollingblackpillsIhaveeverseenNeverseemedtobetouchedbytheSmoke,either;andwhathetookdayandnight,nightandday,wasacautionI’vebeenatitfiveyears,andIcandomyfairshareoftheSmokewithanyone;butIwasachildtoFung-TchingthatwayAllthesame,theoldmanwaskeenonhismoney,verykeen;andthat’swhatIcan’tunderstandI
heardhesavedagooddealbeforehedied,buthisnephewhasgotallthatnow;andtheoldman’sgonebacktoChinatobeburied。
Hekeptthebigupperroom,wherehisbestcustomersgathered,asneatasanewpinInonecornerusedtostandFung-Tching’sJoss——
almostasuglyasFung-Tching——andtherewerealwayssticksburningunderhisnose;butyouneversmelt’emwhenthepipesweregoingthickOppositetheJosswasFung-Tching’scoffinHehadspentagooddealofhissavingsonthat,andwheneveranewmancametotheGatehewasalwaysintroducedtoitItwaslacqueredblack,withredandgoldwritingsonit,andI’veheardthatFung-TchingbroughtitoutallthewayfromChinaIdon’tknowwhetherthat’strueornot,butIknowthat,ifIcamefirstintheevening,IusedtospreadmymatjustatthefootofitItwasaquietcorneryousee,andasortofbreezefromthegullycameinatthewindownowandthenBesidesthemats,therewasnootherfurnitureintheroom——onlythecoffin,andtheoldJossallgreenandblueandpurplewithageandpolish。
Fung-Tchingnevertolduswhyhecalledtheplace“TheGateofaHundredSorrows。”HewastheonlyChinamanIknowwhousedbad-
soundingfancynamesMostofthemarefloweryAsyou’llseeinCalcutta。WeusedtofindthatoutforourselvesNothinggrowsonyousomuch,ifyou’rewhite,astheBlackSmokeAyellowmanismadedifferentOpiumdoesn’ttellonhimscarcelyatall;butwhiteandblacksufferagooddealOfcourse,therearesomepeoplethattheSmokedoesn’ttouchanymorethantobaccowouldatfirstTheyjustdozeabit,asonewouldfallasleepnaturally,andnextmorningtheyarealmostfitforworkNow,IwasoneofthatsortwhenIbegan,butI’vebeenatitforfiveyearsprettysteadily,anditsdifferentnowTherewasanoldauntofmine,downAgraway,andsheleftmealittleatherdeathAboutsixtyrupeesamonthsecuredSixtyisn’tmuchIcanrecollectatime,seemshundredsandhundredsofyearsago,thatIwasgettingmythreehundredamonth,andpickings,whenIwasworkingonabigtimbercontractinCalcutta。
Ididn’tsticktothatworkforlongTheBlackSmokedoesnotallowofmuchotherbusiness;andeventhoughIamverylittleaffectedbyit,asmengo,Icouldn’tdoaday’sworknowtosavemylifeAfterall,sixtyrupeesiswhatIwantWhenoldFung-Tchingwasaliveheusedtodrawthemoneyforme,givemeabouthalfofittoliveonIeatverylittle,andtheresthekepthimselfIwasfreeoftheGateatanytimeofthedayandnight,andcouldsmokeandsleeptherewhenIliked,soIdidn’tcareIknowtheoldmanmadeagoodthingoutofit;butthat’snomatterNothingmatters,muchtome;and,besides,themoneyalwayscamefreshandfresheachmonth。
TherewastenofusmetattheGatewhentheplacewasfirstopened。
Me,andtwoBaboosfromaGovernmentOfficesomewhereinAnarkulli,buttheygotthesackandcouldn’tpaynomanwhohastoworkinthedaylightcandotheBlackSmokeforanylengthoftimestraighton;aChinamanthatwasFung-Tching’snephew;abazar-womanthathadgotalotofmoneysomehow;anEnglishloafer——Mac-SomebodyI
think,butIhaveforgotten——thatsmokedheaps,butneverseemedtopayanythingtheysaidhehadsavedFung-Tching’slifeatsometrialinCalcuttawhenhewasabarrister:anotherEurasian,likemyself,fromMadras;ahalf-castewoman,andacoupleofmenwhosaidtheyhadcomefromtheNorthIthinktheymusthavebeenPersiansorAfghansorsomethingTherearenotmorethanfiveofuslivingnow,butwecomeregularIdon’tknowwhathappenedtotheBaboos;butthebazar-womanshediedaftersixmonthsoftheGate,andIthinkFung-Tchingtookherbanglesandnose-ringforhimselfButI’mnotcertainTheEnglishman,hedrankaswellassmoked,andhedroppedoffOneofthePersiansgotkilledinarowatnightbythebigwellnearthemosquealongtimeago,andthePoliceshutupthewell,becausetheysaiditwasfulloffoulair。
TheyfoundhimdeadatthebottomofitSo,yousee,thereisonlyme,theChinaman,thehalf-castewomanthatwecalltheMemsahibsheusedtolivewithFung-Tching,theotherEurasian,andoneofthePersiansTheMemsahiblooksveryoldnowIthinkshewasayoungwomanwhentheGatewasopened;butwearealloldforthematterofthatHundredsandhundredsofyearsoldItisveryhardtokeepcountoftimeintheGate,andbesides,timedoesn’tmattertomeIdrawmysixtyrupeesfreshandfresheverymonth。
Avery,verylongwhileago,whenIusedtobegettingthreehundredandfiftyrupeesamonth,andpickings,onabigtimber-contractatCalcutta,IhadawifeofsortsButshe’sdeadnowPeoplesaidthatIkilledherbytakingtotheBlackSmokePerhapsIdid,butit’ssolongsinceitdoesn’tmatterSometimeswhenIfirstcametotheGate,Iusedtofeelsorryforit;butthat’salloveranddonewithlongago,andIdrawmysixtyrupeesfreshandfresheverymonth,andamquitehappyNotDRUNKhappy,youknow,butalwaysquietandsoothedandcontented。
HowdidItaketoit?ItbeganatCalcuttaIusedtotryitinmyownhouse,justtoseewhatitwaslikeIneverwentveryfar,butIthinkmywifemusthavediedthenAnyhow,Ifoundmyselfhere,andgottoknowFung-TchingIdon’trememberrightlyhowthatcameabout;buthetoldmeoftheGateandIusedtogothere,and,somehow,IhavenevergotawayfromitsinceMindyou,though,theGatewasarespectableplaceinFung-Tching’stimewhereyoucouldbecomfortable,andnotatalllikethechandoo-khanaswheretheniggersgoNo;itwascleanandquiet,andnotcrowdedOfcourse,therewereothersbesideustenandtheman;butwealwayshadamatapiecewithawaddedwoollenhead-piece,allcoveredwithblackandreddragonsandthings;justlikeacoffininthecorner。