RONNIE’S CONFESSION
“Good God, Eva!” exclaimed Ronnie. “What do you mean by creeping on me
like this?”
My answer was to throw myself with all my force upon his wrist and
wrench the revolver out of his hand. He rose unsteadily, and stared at
me. The expression on his face was something inhuman and terrible--and
I could see that he was trembling from head to foot.
“Give it here!” he commanded hoarsely. “You _must_--and clear out--it
will be all over in a couple of minutes!”
I made no reply, but held the weapon behind my back in a vice-like grip.
“Eva, do you hear me?--give it back,” he reiterated, seizing my arm and
shaking it violently.
“Hear _me_ first,” I panted breathlessly. “Oh, Ronnie, how can you
think of doing such an awful thing? Have you the heart to leave me out
here all alone to face--whatever you shrink from?”
His expression changed, the rigidity relaxed, and he dropped my arm
with a hasty gesture.
“Think, Ronnie, of death--and what it means.”
“My dear Eva, I have been thinking of nothing else the last two hours.
At seven-and-twenty there’s a big bit of life due, but I have no
alternative. I’m in a hideous fix, and there is only one way out.”
“There must be another,” I said; “this one is the coward’s path. Oh,
Ronnie, I implore you to take me into your confidence. _What_ has
happened?”
“The family curse has overtaken me--that’s all.”
“Gambling?”
“Yes. What’s bred in the bone there’s no getting away from--it is part
of oneself.”
“Two heads are better than one. It may be the case of the mouse and the
lion. Promise me that you will put this idea out of your head. Listen.
I will make some hot coffee at the stove, and we will go and sit out in
the veranda and you shall tell me _everything_. But before I leave you
I must have your promise,” and I looked him full in the eyes.
“All right,” he agreed. “I give you my word, and you can go and make
the coffee. You are a level-headed girl, and perhaps you may be able to
see some glimmer of light in the darkness.”
I glanced fearfully round the room trying to discover if there were
any other weapon, then I went back into my own apartment and hid the
revolver; returning, I lit the oil stove and prepared the coffee. As
soon as it was ready I brewed two large cups and took one to Ronnie,
who was standing by the table in the dining-room.
“I feel better for that,” he said, “it clears my head. The other thing
would have cleared my head too.”
“Oh, don’t!” I expostulated. “How can you?”
“Come on, then. Shall we sit in the veranda?”
I rather shrank from this suggestion, remembering my happy half-hour
with Brian. That had been a love tale; now I was probably about to
listen to a history containing the elements of life and death.
“No, let us go into the compound and walk up and down--it is a lovely
warm night.”
“Day,” he corrected. “In another half-hour we shall see the dawn.”
We strolled to the gate in silence, and came to a full stop. Kip, who
had accompanied us, much astonished at our proceedings, settled down on
the tail of my dressing-gown and curled himself up for sleep.
“Well, Sis,” said Ronnie, drawing a long breath, “I’ll tell you
everything now. You and I have always been such tremendous pals, that
I suppose you think you know me, but you’ve only seen my best side.
Even as a small boy I had a taste for gambling and betting--if the
stake was only a few coppers or stamps. All the same, I did well at
school and at Sandhurst, where, as you know, I passed out first, and
got the sword. Before I was launched upon my own, Uncle Horace gave me
a tremendous talking-to; told me our family history and warned me that
the vice of gambling was in the Lingard blood. Cards were my father’s
curse--betting is mine! Even in my teens I followed racing with the
deepest interest, and could have passed a pretty stiff examination in
‘Ruff’s Guide to the Turf.’ The first few years I spent out here I was
just as happy as a king. I was awfully keen and liked the Service;
I’d heaps of friends, four hundred a year besides my pay, and I took
to polo like a duck to water. At gymkhanas and small race meetings I
was extraordinarily lucky, riding my own ponies and winning all before
me. Racing people offered me mounts--you see I’m a light weight and can
ride--so I got mixed up with the turf and was gradually sucked into the
whirlpool. I backed horses at Lucknow and Calcutta, and on the whole
did well. This regiment is not a racing one--they go in for cricket and
polo--but I found a kindred spirit in Fox of the Tea-Green Lancers. He
has tons of money, is mad keen about racing, and we used to go shares
in cables and expenses--for we both backed horses at home. Once I
pulled off a double event on the Lincolnshire and Grand National, and
bought new ponies, gave champagne dinners at the club, and made a great
splash. Well, I wasn’t long a winner, but had some truly awful facers.”
He paused for a moment and then continued:
“It was one of these facers that took me home last year. I’d been
nibbling at my capital for some time, and, as I wanted to handle ready
coin, I sold out a lot of stock. Naturally I made the most of my leave
in England--at Ascot and Goodwood. Lately my luck has been dead out,
and yet, like all gamblers, I have been fighting and striving like mad
to get my own back, and have gone in up to my neck!”
“Why did you not tell me? I might have helped you,” I broke in.
“No, no, Sis, you could not do anything. Balthasar has given me a
hand a couple of times; he is a money-lender--under the rose--the
financial pose is all rot. He gives ripping dinners with top-hole
champagne--afterwards his guests play poker and chemin de fer; it is
all kept dark. He has, as I say, helped me out once or twice, but
somehow, since you and he had that scrap I have a feeling that he is no
longer my jovial and open-handed ally, but as hard as the Gun Rock!”
Here Ronnie came to a dead stop, and appeared to be suddenly engrossed
in his own sombre reflections.
“But what is it _now_?” I ventured. “What has brought your affairs to
such a terrible crisis?”
“Crisis indeed!” he echoed, turning to face me, and in the soft light
of an Indian night I could see that his face was convulsed with
emotion. “Eva, you will be horrified when I tell you that--I have laid
hands on the regimental funds!”
“Oh, Ronnie!” I gasped.
“You may well say, ‘Oh, Ronnie!’ That’s the awful part of the whole
thing--my rage for gambling goaded me to mad recklessness; that and the
sudden change in the reliefs have done for me.”
“But what have the reliefs to say to _you_?” I stammered.
“You know we were all supposed to be going home in February and
everyone was selling off. We sold our polo ponies for a long price, and
the sum was set aside for a team at home.”
“Yes, yes--I know that.”
“The canteen fund was rich, and the colonel was holding over a big
surplus towards setting up in our next station.”
“How could----” I began.
“Just let me go on--you’ll soon understand,” interrupted Ronnie. “The
polo money was taken over by Mills, our treasurer; he lodged it, in
spite of the colonel, in a bank. It’s in a way a private fund, and the
C.O. could not stop him. Mills is dead keen about coin, being poor and
thrifty; he said even for six weeks four per cent. was worth having.”
I leant heavily against the gate. How much longer would these details
torture me?
“Mills and the colonel had a regular set-to over the business; I heard
them arguing in the anteroom. The colonel is shy of local banks and
temporary investments--he was once badly hit up north--so he insisted
on keeping the canteen funds locked up in the safe in the orderly
room--and I stole them.”
“You--stole--them!” I repeated in a whisper.
“Yes, but only under the most frightful pressure. You see I knew all
about this money. I have been acting adjutant whilst Gloag got a
month’s leave to see his people in the Neilgherries. I counted over the
canteen notes, reported all correct, stuffed them into a drawer in the
safe, and never gave them another thought till last week. Then the mail
brought me a letter from my London bookie, saying that I must pay up my
losses--about £400--or be posted and run in. He gave me a fortnight’s
grace. I hadn’t a penny in the bank--in fact I’m overdrawn. On the
other hand, I had a splendid book on the Calcutta races and was
confident I’d get home on Collarette. Meanwhile, I was at my wits’
end to find the ready money for Hawkins. I knew if I was posted that
it meant ruin; then some little black devil whispered: ‘What about
that canteen money? It won’t be wanted for a couple of months; you
can settle up with Hawkins, and the Calcutta winnings will refund the
loan. It would only be an extra big risk and gamble.’ To make a long
story short, I took the coin; I told myself it was only a loan, and
everything combined to make the job dead easy.”
Here Ronnie paused; his voice sounded husky, as if his throat were dry.
For my part, I could not have spoken if my life had depended on it.
“For two or three days I struggled,” he went on. “I am not a hardened
scoundrel. I fought off the temptation, but I was pinned fast between
the devil and the deep sea. If I did not pay my debts of honour, I
would be smashed; and if the canteen money was suddenly missed and had
not been replaced, I was also smashed. At last I gave in. Late one
sultry afternoon, I happened to be alone in the orderly room copying
the summary of evidence for a court martial; the head clerk had
finished and I had given him leave to depart. All the time my pen was
scratching along the paper it seemed to say, ‘Take it! take it! Here is
your chance.’ You know the orderly room is in the old barracks, where,
by all accounts, queer things have happened. There was something in
the warm atmosphere that relaxed my will. Although I saw nothing, I
felt acutely sensible of a dominating other-world presence between
me and the window. Eva, I’ll swear that some sort of evil spirit was
urging me to take my chance and just _one_ more risk!
“For a good while I hesitated. At last I got up and closed the door
into the clerks’ room, and when I took the keys and opened the safe, I
declare my heart was thumping like a motor engine. The money was in a
small drawer; ten days before I had counted over the notes and reported
‘all correct,’ and I knew that a sum of seven thousand rupees was
intact. I drew out the dingy bundle, greasy and discoloured--but good
paper for all that--thrust it into my pocket, and locked the safe. Once
the deed was actually accomplished, I felt relieved and even cheerful.
Next morning I gave the notes to Bunsi Lal’s agent, in exchange for a
cheque on London.”
“Yes?”
“So that load was off my back; and then I hedged in case Collarette
failed me, and wrote by the same mail to Uncle Horace, begging him
to lend me five hundred pounds. I told him that it was a case of the
most terrible necessity, and implored him not to fail me. I expect his
answer in ten days--but by then it’ll be too late. Collarette, as you
know, ran a cur; she shut up in the last fifty yards. Then followed the
bomb about our reliefs being cancelled. Last, and worst of all, Mills
came to me on Saturday and said: ‘That canteen money is going to be
invested after all; I’ve been telling the colonel we may as well get
some interest this next six months, it is to be made over to Loughton
and Law on deposit receipt. I suppose they’ll give four per cent., so
will you let me have it, Ronnie, and I’ll fix it up? A bit over seven
thousand rupees, isn’t it?’
“I declare to you, Sis, that I felt as if the sky had fallen in. That
was Saturday, and here is Monday. If I cannot put the money back in the
safe--or rather produce it and pretend I’ve taken it out--by Wednesday
morning, I’m done for. I shall be convicted of making away with the
regimental funds, be tried by court martial and cashiered. _My_
alternative was better than that!”
“Oh, Ronnie, Ronnie, don’t say it!” I protested in agony.
“Just fancy my being proved to be a regular ‘budmash’ and thief--if
I were out of it all things would be hushed up. I’d just have been
bundled into a hole in the cemetery--and nothing _said_. I know the
colonel would move heaven and earth to smother the scandal. He thinks
so much of the reputation of the regiment, and if one of his officers
were to be tried by court martial, and the case came out in all the
papers, it would turn his hair white.”
“And so you have only until the day after to-morrow,” I faltered at
last. “Something must be done--can’t I cable and get out money?”
“No,” he replied, “there would be no end of formalities; anyway it
would be too late. My one chance is _Balthasar_. I sounded him about
a loan, but I must confess that he was not responsive--even though I
talked of big interest. He is my only hope. I clutch at him as my very
last straw. He said he might turn up here to-morrow afternoon, and I
believe if you were really most awfully nice to him he would come to
the rescue--it’s just my one chance.”
I clenched my hands tightly on the top bar of the gate; the prospect
was too hideous. That I should have to put forth my utmost efforts
to cajole and mollify my most detested acquaintance was, indeed, an
overwhelming enterprise--and yet, looking over the whole situation, it
seemed to me that in Balthasar’s assistance lay our only road of escape.
“I will do my best,” I murmured at last.
“Oh, if you will do _that_, you will certainly pull me through. I know
you dislike him and I hate asking you to influence him, but you see my
position is desperate. Perhaps you might bring a little light into the
darkness; and there,” he said, pointing, “the light is coming. I see
the pale dawn beginning to creep along the horizon--I shall accept it
as a good omen. And now, my dear sister, I will turn in and get some
sleep. I have not closed my eyes for three whole nights. I shall want
to have all my wits about me when Balthasar appears, though it is _you_
who will deal with him.” So saying he kissed my bare arm and strode off
towards the bungalow.
But I still remained leaning over the gate, trying to face things and
to realise the situation. I seemed to take no count of time; I felt
as if I had been turned into a block of stone. If Ronnie could get
the loan and pay the canteen money he would be relieved from an awful
situation, though, from what I could gather, he would be obliged to
leave the “Lighthearts.” (It was not a regiment in which a captain
could exist upon his pay.) I would stay with him as long as possible,
and see him through his trouble. He would probably exchange into the
Indian Service and I would return home. That was the best side. On
the other--the worst--supposing that Balthasar still remained hard as
a stone? Ronnie would be tried by court martial and disgraced. I too
would be disgraced and ruined socially. As for Brian Falkland, how
could he marry a girl whose brother had been convicted of stealing?
There must be an end to that, and I buried my face in my hands and
rested my head upon the top bar of the gate. I believe I remained in
this position for a long time, but at last I was disturbed by the
ducks. They had disposed of their breakfast and were now quacking and
waddling all round me, urgent that I should bestir myself and suffer
them to pass forth.