Colin Silverthorne's eyes were as red as his hair.

He could not be blamed for it. It was his senior, Mr Davenport, who called for him at the break of dawn, when he had just fallen asleep. The heat in this part of the country was unbearable and having so recently come from Britain, it was hard for him to cope. Poor thing could barely keep his head straight.

He was still in a haze - what was he doing here in this foreign terrain? The last few months of his life were a blur. Like the visage seen from the windows of a fast train. In moments like this, he would swear he still felt he was in his cosy bedchamber in Britain.

"Do you see where I am pointing at, Mr Silverthorne?"

The gruff voice of Mr Davenport brought Colin back from his world of reverie. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his palm, he looked at the map attached to the wall at which his senior pointed at.

"This is Nishikantopur," his senior said, his finger on a minuscule red point near to the long blue line that represented the river Ganges. "It is where the murder has occurred. The incident happened a week ago."

Colin straightened a pleat in his khaki uniform, his gaze lingering not on the map but upon the window at the opposite end through which entered the golden sunlight. Few constables paced back and forth around the courtyard.

His mind was fixated on his appearance. Was his hair tangled? Did his eyes appear to be like hammocks enough for two large field mice to rest in? In his distracted state of mind, he couldn't care less about a disappearance taking place in some faraway countryside.

"We can send a few men there to learn about the incident," he said after a while. "Who has been killed, sir?"

"Frederick Clarkson, Mr Campbell. The son of Earl Alexander Clarkson."

Colin stopped mid-motion from rubbing his eyes.

"What!"

He could not believe what his ears heard. Earl Clarkson was a man of much power back home. No doubt Davenport was all worked up about this case. And whoever killed the Earl's son...Colin could not help but pity them.

"I must have said it twice since you came here, but apparently you were not listening at all." Davenport glared.

Colin hung his head like a mischievous schoolboy. At that moment, he could not deny that Mr Davenport's grey eyes glinted as if he was standing in front of a man shaped tiger.

It was silly of him to not have heard something as vital as that. However, there was no use in him denying that without sleep, his mind ceased to function properly. Davenport should have let him sleep a little more, given that Frederick Clarkson was already dead. A few hours' delay could not have hurt him, right?

"Could it be the swadeshis?" He asked, referring to a colloquial term used for the revolutionaries. Colin had heard much about them from his father and uncle Duncan. They had very different opinions on the subject, though. A story better saved for later.

"We do not know for sure. But it seems a little too extreme for them to kill such an important officer, leaving no traces." Davenport sighed before reverting to the map behind him. "

Colin raised an eyebrow. "Someone ought to have noticed something."

He was practical from heart and mind. What Davenport hinted at was the exact opposite of it. No matter how clever a criminal, they always left behind something or the other that led to their downfalls. This was what he believed in.

"Taking all things into account, it seems to be so," Mr Davenport settled on a nearby chair. "Some are of the opinion that it is the work of something supernatural."

"That is complete hogwash. I am sure it is the work of one or more men."

Mr Davenport ignored Colin's words. "We know very little of the matter, thus we are to launch an investigation regarding this matter."

"That is the only plausible way to get into the heart of this murder."

"And, it is you whom we want to lead this investigation," said Mr Davenport. "A fresh pair of eyes looking into it will, without a doubt, be good for it."

Colin kept his lips sealed. His heart sank into the pits of purgatory no sooner had his mind registered those words. Why in all the world did they appoint him for this, when all he wanted to do for the moment was to settle this unfamiliar country? And if he was being true to himself, he had no love for the deceased. Frederick was a bit of a flamboyant peacock in his judgement.

The four walls of the room were suffocating him. Its dull beige colour was taunting him. All the pictures and furniture that were there were a blur to his eyes. Only his heartbeats sang in his ears.

He was to be sent away to a faraway hamlet to investigate the death of a rich brat. Disapprovingly, he glanced again at the map and located Nishikantopur, which was marked in red. He saw it was in-between the river and a thick forest.
To think about the amount of mosquitoes there will be, forgetting the possibility of poisonous snakes. Colin's face turned as dark as a storm cloud.

"Mr Silverthorne, would you not say something?" Mr Davenport asked, noticing the former's silence.

"I am honoured to be given this responsibility, sir. Colin saluted. There was no hint of joy in his voice."I will start preparing as soon as possible."

"That is what I was expecting to hear."

Colin took in a deep breath. After all, it was what fed him, and he better do what they asked of him.

***

Bright sunlight graced the brick-red columns of the small bungalow when Colin returned from his impromptu meeting with his senior.

Dragging his feet, he entered the premises through the barred metal gates. But instead of going inside to rest, he walked towards the attached garden. He could not rest in this state of mind, and he knew it well. Perhaps the fresh air might do him some good.

The skies of Calcutta were a shade of pleasant blue. A few clouds wafted about, accompanied by a cool breeze. Colin heard the birds chirp on his way to the garden. This was what he preferred; calm mornings spent with a cup of tea and birdsong. Without having to worry about going to shady hamlets.

He hummed a soft tune as the sight of the viridescent garden drew closer. Hopping down the last few steps, he sat down on a bench and took a deep breath. For that moment, the thoughts of him going to Nishikantopur vanished from his mind.

Shaped as a diamond, the garden boasted of lush green trees, lofty grass, well maintained flower beds and a fountain in the shape of a naked cherub. It was made of polished marble. The trees were planted in such a manner that they gave a semblance of a huge archway, while the flower beds were in-between the gaps made by the trees.

Colin listened to the soft tap-taping of water as it fell from the hands of the cherub onto the cornucopia below. His tired eyes dropped at its melody. It reminded him of his childhood home back in Britain, which, although not as large as this one, had a similar-looking garden.

"Speaking of home..."

His stomach lurched as he thought about the impending journey. However, how bad could it be? Two parts of his mind collided with each other. He knew not whom to side with. And it was a significant question whether he had any true autonomy over the decision to go or not to go.

Rising from his seat, Colin walked over to the fountain. Collecting some of the water in his palm, he splashed it over his face, his reflection rippling at the action. It showed a soft round face with a pair of wide-set dark brown eyes. His hair glittered like the ruby gemstone in the morning light while a layer of tan graced his fair cheeks.

"What are you looking at, brother?"

Shocked, Colin jumped in his position. He was about to fall facedown, when a pair of arms caught him. Shrill laughter filled the silent garden.

"You scared me to death, Cecilia!"

Colin looked at his sister with widened eyes, a hand upon his heaving chest. Her appearance took him unawares.

"I have been watching you for a while now," Cecilia said. "Did you not see me?"

Colin shook his head. He did not even notice when his sister had arrived. His mind was going haywire at that moment.

"Did something happen?" Cecilia frowned. "Or did you get ill?" Her lips puckered with worry for her brother.

Despite being born a year after her brother, Cecilia Silverthorne resembled him in every way. As if she were a twin born along with him. From his height to his stature and features, she looked just like him. Only now did her face appear much youthful and less tanned than her tired older brother.

"I will have to go away," Colin replied. "I was called-"

"Yes, I saw that. I saw you leaving at the break of dawn."

"Davenport summoned me and has entrusted me to investigate a murder."

"Let me guess, for that you have to go somewhere?" Cecilia raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, to Nishikantopur."

"To where?" Cecilia asked, her unseasoned ears unable to understand the foreign term at first.

"To Nishikantopur," said Colin with a deliberate slowness. "It is a hamlet in the far countryside."

"For how long will you be gone?" Cecilia asked. Her face darkened just like Colin's when Davenport dropped the news of appointing him on this investigation. "Does this mean that I am to return home, back to Britain?"

"I do not think it would take over two weeks for me to come back."

"What am I to do for those weeks? There is no one here with whom I can talk."

"I would be back soon," Colin assured her. "I would frequently write letters to you, I promise."

"You better remember that promise," Cecilia said. "But I do not understand why they had to appoint you, you of all people, to this investigation? It has been only a month since you arrived here."

Colin did not respond. The brother and sister contemplated the fresh development in silence. Water from the fountain trickled down behind them, its muffled sound the only sign that the scene was not frozen in time.

"So, who has died?" Cecilia asked, breaking the silence.

A small smile emerged on Colin's lips at hearing his sister's words. "Frederick Clarkson."

"Oh, my god! You don't mean Earl Clarkson's second son?" Cecilia's eyes widened like dinner plates. "Do they have any idea who might have killed him?"

"None. At least, that is what Davenport told me."

Cecilia bit her lower lip. "It sounds very frightening. I wonder how you are going to tackle it. My heart shudders just thinking about what might have led to this devastating incident."

Colin chuckled. "You need not to worry your pretty head about such things, sister."

"There is a reason you call me your sister. And a sister has all the rights to worry about her brother."

"I know that, but I do not want to scare you with details about such gruesome things."

"I never got scared listening to it," Cecilia said, her tone defiant. "You cannot always protect me from the gruesomeness of the world. Someday or other, it will corrupt me."

"That is what I do not want to happen. Why add more darkness to the world when it can use some light instead?"

"It is because this is the way the world works. Nothing is black and white but something in the middle of the two."

"That is true," Colin said. "Now I have to wonder. Since when did my sister become a philosopher with such heightened awareness about the ways of the world?"

Cecilia rolled her eyes. "Since the day my older brother got startled like a baby."

Colin rolled his eyes. "He has his mother in the guise of his sister, so he needs not to worry."

Both of them laughed at this. The merry sounds of their joy mingled with the breeze, becoming one with it. Its echoes bounced against the bark of the trees and returned to them again.

Darkness had no place in their world in that instant.

~•~