Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

‘Certainly.’

‘Sir?’

‘Yes, Mr Linton?’

‘You are the most mean, miserly, stingy, tight-fisted and avariciously greedy bastard I have ever met in my life.’

‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, Mr Linton.’

The old woman was still holding up the glass beads, watching how a ray of sunlight that fell in through a tiny gap in the roof sparkled on their surface. I could see it in her eyes - the almost childlike fascination for western marvels that had cost so many Indians their lands and freedom. Inside, I was fuming! I didn’t want this old lady to be cheated! But what could I do?

Finally, she nodded, seeming to come to a decision. Returning her gaze to Mr Ambrose, she smiled.

‘Eu aprecio seu senso de humor. No entanto, se você não quer acabar pendurado de cabeça para baixo de uma árvore com uma cobra morta enchido na sua bunda , eu sugiro que você se abstenha de piadas como esta no futuro.’[25]

Mr Ambrose stiffened, his eyes freezing over completely.

‘Mr Ambrose?’

No reply.

‘What did she say, Mr Ambrose, Sir?’

Still no reply.

‘Karim? What did she say?’

The bodyguard cleared his throat. It sounded like a mountain belching. ‘Um…I don’t know if I should…’

‘Tell me now, or you-know-what happens!’

Reluctantly, Karim yielded to superior force.

‘She told the Sahib that she appreciates his sense of humour, but that if he does not wish to end up hanging upside down from a tree with a dead snake stuffed up his, um…posterior, he should refrain from jokes like this in the future.’

‘Did she indeed?’ As inconspicuously as possible, I peeked at Mr Ambrose out of the corner of my eye. His face was as unreadable as a book written upside down in coded Chinese with invisible ink. ‘My oh my.’

This old lady was really good. If she kept this up, she would end up on my list of role models, right next to Jeanne D’Arc and Mary Astell.

I sent a smile to Mr Ambrose. ‘That didn’t go quite as expected, Sir, did it?’

A muscle in Mr Ambrose’s jaw twitched. ‘Indians aren’t what they used to be,’ he growled.

‘Yes, just imagine, they don’t want to be used and exploited anymore. Shocking, isn’t it?’

‘Indeed, Mr Linton.’

I didn’t think he was joking.

‘So? What now, Mr Ambrose, Sir?’

The old lady seemed to be interested in the answer to the very same question. Smiling her toothless smile at Mr Ambrose, she raised one eyebrow. The meaning was clear to everyone: Anything else to offer?

Mr Ambrose sat there, studying her for a moment in cool silence. He raised his hand and thoughtfully stroked two elegant, long fingers along that chiselled chin of his. Then, suddenly, he leapt to his feet and strode to the door. The big Indian stepped in his way, raising his spear, but the old woman barked a command at him, and he pulled back, letting Mr Ambrose pass. Without hesitation, he ducked through the doorway and stepped outside.

‘What is he doing?’ I demanded.

‘I do not know,’ Karim rumbled, looking just as puzzled as I felt. Jumping up, we started after our dear employer. To judge by the rustling and thumping from behind us, the old lady and her bulky guard were hot on our heels.