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“My uncle get me job,” said Felix.
He was an intelligent boy – they could see that at once. His eyes had scanned the circle
of questioners with neither fear nor artifice. And his English was good, far better than Trevor had
dared to hope. Felix had recounted the sequence of events on the morning of August 7 and his
recollections had perfectly matched Anthony Weaver’s story. No, he had said, with a gentle
certainty. They had passed nothing unusual on their short ride to the club, no one had impeded their
progress, and neither Mrs. Weaver nor Pulkit Sang had seemed at all ill. Sang had ridden up front
beside him, as a matter of fact, and had been his usual cheery self.
But when the line of questioning turned to how he had first found himself living with the
Weavers, the interview became immediately more interesting.
“Who is your uncle?” Trevor asked.
“Pulkit Sang the brother of my mother’s mother, yes?”
“Indeed, “said Trevor, with surprise. So Sang had used his seniority within the Weaver
household to procure a post for his great-nephew. “I did not realize you were related. Please accept
my condolences for your loss.”
The phrase seemed to confuse the lad. He said nothing in response but merely sat
blinking.
“Your great-uncle had worked for the Weavers for a long time, yes?” asked Rayley. “Do
you know why and when they first hired him as a bodyguard?”
“Yes. He was not bodyguard all at once. He was valet to the sahib, as I am now.”
“He worked for the Secretary-General? He was originally a servant to Mr. Weaver?”
Rayley said in some confusion.
“Yes. No. He worked for the first Secretary-General. His name” – and here the boy
hesitated, as if pulling up something from the deepest recesses of memory – “Ro-lund Eb-er-nee.”
The group looked about at each other with uncertainty on every face. There had never
been any hint that Pulkit Sang’s length of service extended that far back. That he had been with the
Everlee-Weaver household prior to the slaughter of ’57, that he had served not only Rose’s second
husband, but her first one as well.
“Well, that is quite cozy,” Tom finally drawled. “Anthony Weaver inherited Roland
Everlee’s valet as well as his wife.”
Trevor nodded to Rayley to continue.
“Let me make sure that we all understand each other, Felix,” Rayley said. “You are
saying that your uncle first served Roland Everlee?”
A single emphatic nod. “In army.”
“He went with Everlee into the field? He traveled with him during the – “'
"War. Yes."
***
“You mean the mutiny?” Rayley persisted. “You realize we are asking about 1857?”
Since Felix was too young to have any personal memory of these events, he was
obviously going solely on stories he had been told from his grandmother and great-uncle. But he
responded with confidence and enunciated carefully. “Uncle went to Cawnpore.”
At this simple sentence all the air seemed to go out of the room for Trevor.
“You are quite sure of this?” Rayley croaked.
Felix bobbed his head. “Uncle go with Sahib Eb-er-nee to house with lady and
children. Sahib try to save, but sword go through him.”