Chapter XII: A Double Surprise

The struggle that followed was frantic but brief. It couldn’t have lasted long, for Biff was unable to wrench the attacker’s hands from the chain that they so cruelly twisted. It was already cutting off Biff’s breath and blood supply, so that his eyes were seeing black spots in the moonlight.

Biff shifted his grip to his attacker’s throat, but it didn’t help. If anything, it made him twist the chain harder. Biff couldn’t call for help, though the walls of the bungalow were thin enough for even a gargly cry to be heard. But there was a way to make people hear.

As he lashed about, Biff managed to shove the cot away from the wall. Then, wrenching himself to a new position, he began kicking the wall with his feet, pounding a terrific drum beat. There was a muffled, excited cry from the next room, then answering shouts above the din that Biff was raising. The whole dak bungalow was aroused.

Right then, Biff was hoping to jab his attacker’s neck nerves, judo style, which would have turned the tables completely. But his squirmy foe didn’t wait. He managed to yank the ruby bag clear from its chain. Gripping his prize, he twisted away, turned, and bounded for the window.

Biff beat him there, by rolling over on his hands and knees, then blocking the fugitive with a headlong dive. The squirmy man turned and darted toward the door, just as it burst open and Barma Shah came driving in. He met the attacker and snatched for the bag, which came open, spilling out the ruby. By then, Biff was piling into the fray. He and Barma Shah both grabbed for the gleaming gem, while the squirmy man took off empty-handed.

It was Barma Shah who saved the ruby with one hand, while he held Biff back with the other. Chandra and Kamuka were already taking up the chase from their rooms, as were other guests. Coolly, Barma Shah told Biff:

“Leave it to them. We don’t want people to know what the fellow was after. Here is the ruby, so put it away again.”

The advice was good, so Biff accepted it. For the moment, he wondered if they’d really regained the ruby, for it looked as dull as a lump of coal, there in Barma Shah’s hand. But as Biff took it, all the gem’s luster returned and it scintillated in the moonlight with a vivid fire that seemed to throw off living sparks. Satisfied, Biff put the ruby back in its bag.

The excitement roused hundreds of monkeys from their tree bunks, and with all their jumping and chatter, no one was able to catch up with Biff’s attacker. The _khansama_ who kept the dak bungalow was all apologies when an examination showed that Biff’s window screen had been loosened—by whom, no one knew. Barma Shah, as spokesman for the boys, dismissed it as a trifling matter.

But in the morning, Barma Shah went into Agra to talk to the police. He returned in time for an early lunch which the khansama, who was cook as well as innkeeper, had specially prepared. It consisted of _dalmoth_, or fried lentils with thin shavings of lentil paste; and it was followed by a dish of _petha_, a crystallized melon served in slices.

When Barma Shah and the boys pulled away in the jeep, he had made no further mention of the near-robbery of the night before. But as they rode along the highway toward Delhi, Barma Shah discussed the matter with the boys.

“The police weren’t impressed,” Barma Shah declared. “They say there is nothing to this talk of _thugee_ coming back in the form of a Kali cult. People are simply confusing them with roving bands of thieves, like the old _pindaris_. Other countries have gangsters, why not India?”

“But we saw the Kali statue—” Biff began.

“I know. Well,” declared Barma Shah, “whether that man last night was a petty thief or a thug playing a lone hand to deceive us, we won’t take more chances.”

Barma Shah’s method was simple. They drove on to Delhi and pulled into the old city after dark. There, Barma Shah let the boys off on a quiet street and continued on alone in the jeep toward Simla. He had given them an address where they could find him.

Only a block from where they were dropped off, the boys came to a rooming house that Barma Shah had mentioned. They stayed there overnight and began planning their next step, which was to reach the American Embassy without attracting special notice.

“See what you can find out, Chandra,” suggested Biff. “Say that you’re a student who would like to know about the United States. Remember, there are a lot of American nations, so be sure to specify the United States. Maybe we can slide you in there to pave the way for me.”

All this was in keeping with advice from Diwan Chand in Calcutta, which Barma Shah in his turn had stressed even more; namely, that spies might be watching every move that Biff made. Events along the line had definitely underlined the need for caution. So Chandra, still wearing his European clothes, set out on a hired bicycle, the most popular type of transportation in India’s capital city of New Delhi, which adjoined the old Mogul capital of Delhi.

A few hours later, Chandra rejoined the other boys in a colorful bazaar where he had left them.

“I have good news,” he exclaimed. “Every week, students go by special bus to meet and talk with ambassadors from other countries.”

“That sounds like a United Nations proposition,” commented Biff.

“No, no,” returned Chandra. “I checked that. They go to a different country’s embassy every week. So I look at the list, and what do you think is next? United States! Tomorrow!”

“Nice work,” approved Biff. “That sounds like our ticket, all right.”

“It is our ticket, all right.” Chandra grinned. “Three tickets for bus tomorrow. I ask and I get them. So we go along with big crowd, and nobody will guess who we are.”

Since the students were all from Indian schools located in New Delhi and elsewhere, Chandra and Kamuka decided to stay in their European clothes; but Biff, somewhat to his annoyance, had to switch back to his Sikh costume. Otherwise he would be spotted for an American and perhaps for himself, Biff Brewster, if some keen observer happened to be looking for him.

“I suppose any Sikh students will be wearing their native garb, too,” commented Biff, “like the railroad guards on the train. So don’t let them spot me for a phony the way that man with the fake beard did on the Howrah bus.”

“Funny thing,” said Chandra, “I keep thinking about him every now and then, I don’t know just why. But don’t worry. Kamuka and I will talk to people so they won’t bother you.”

The bus tickets were simply cards that said _Student_ in English and its equivalent in Hindi characters. They were accepted without question, and the boys took seats well back in the bus, which was nearly full when it started. All was fine until they stopped at a building where Biff looked up and saw a flag with three vertical stripes—red, white, and green.

“You’ve made a mistake, Chandra,” Biff groaned. “This can’t be the American Embassy. That’s not the United States flag.”

“It must be,” argued Chandra. “Lots of countries change their flags. Maybe your country changes its flag, too.”

“No, we don’t change the United States flag.”

From the bus window, Biff saw the flag flutter slightly, and now he noticed the emblem of an eagle on the white stripe.

“That’s the Mexican flag,” exclaimed Biff. As a sudden thought struck him, he asked, “Just what did that list say, Chandra?”

“It said students would pay visit to the embassy of the United States of—of—”

“The United States of Mexico!”

“Yes, that was it.”

“It’s my fault, Chandra,” conceded Biff. “I forgot that Mexico is officially known as the United States of Mexico. I should have told you the United States of America. Then you’d have checked on the American Embassy.” He turned to Kamuka. “Dumb of me, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe I was dumb, too,” returned Kamuka. “If I had told Chandra to look for United States of Brazil, he would have brought us to the Brazilian Embassy. I could tell our story there.”

“You’re right, Kamuka,” acknowledged Biff. “We had two chances out of three and we missed. Well, we can’t sit here. We will have to follow the crowd.” Follow the crowd they did. As the last three off the bus, Biff and his companions tagged on into the Mexican Embassy and slid into a rear corner of the reception room where the students were seated. Members of the Mexican diplomatic corps proceeded to hold open forum with the students of New India, exchanging views on their respective countries. After an hour’s session was completed, the students started out, shaking hands with the Embassy staff as they went.

Again, Biff and his companions held back. They were able to ease along behind the students, who were so interested in exchanging their own views that they did not notice the dragging trio. Biff particularly, was glad to avoid the handshakes. The diplomats showed interest in a few genuine Sikh students, and Biff was afraid he would be asked embarrassing questions.

There was just one greeter they could not avoid. Outside the reception room, a Mexican youth of about Biff’s age had come up to shake hands with the students and was chatting briefly with them. Fortunately, his back was partly turned, so Biff saw a way to avoid him.

“You shake hands with him first, Kamuka,” Biff whispered, “but keep moving or he may guess that you are a Brazilian. You crowd in fast, Chandra, and keep him talking while I slide by—”

They had reached the youth by then, and Kamuka’s handshake was over too quickly. Chandra, caught off stride, could not think what to say, so the young Mexican politely bowed him on with a brief shake; then turned with perfect poise to meet the last departing visitor, Biff.

The Mexican’s expression was momentarily quizzical as he studied the face beneath the Sikh turban. Chandra and Kamuka, glancing back, were sure Biff was getting by with his disguise when, to their horror, Biff himself gave the game away. As though suddenly gone crazy, Biff flung away his turban, sprang forward, grabbed the Mexican boy’s shoulders, and began shaking the poise right out of him.

The surprised youth gasped and grabbed at Biff as if in self-defense. Chandra and Kamuka turned to ward off any students who might come back to mix in the fray, only to see that they were all alone. That was when they heard Biff shout:

“Mike Arista!”

Then Chandra and Kamuka realized that it wasn’t a fight at all, but just a genuine, heartfelt form of mutual recognition, as the Mexican boy exclaimed:

“Biff Brewster!”