[image: images/img_000.jpg
caption: “SINJĀJ KĪLIN SAHIB BAHADAR RIDES TO-NIGHT”]
The Warden of the Marches
By
SYDNEY C. GRIER
AUTHOR OF “PEACE WITH HONOUR,”
“LIKE ANOTHER HELEN,” “IN
FURTHEST IND,” Etc.
(_Sixth in the Modern East series_)
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ALFRED PEARSE_
BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
_MDCCCCII_
COPYRIGHT.
_Copyright, 1902_
By L. C. Page & Company
(Incorporated)
Published June, 1902
CONTENTS.
I. THE COMING OF QUEEN MAB
II. “LIFE IS REAL; LIFE IS EARNEST”
III. “IN HIS SIMPLICITY SUBLIME”
IV. THE OUTSIDER
V. ROSE OF THE WORLD
VI. LA BELLE ALLIANCE
VII. NONE BUT THE BRAVE
VIII. WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION
IX. WOUNDED HERO AND MINISTERING ANGEL
X. GAINING A LOVER AND KEEPING A FRIEND
XI. BEHIND THE CURTAIN
XII. HONOUR AND DUTY
XIII. ONE NIGHT
XIV. TO KEEP THE FLAG FLYING
XV. “THE OLD FIRST HEROIC LESSONS”
XVI. THE DARKEST HOUR
XVII. THE LUCK OF THE BABA SAHIB
XVIII. AN ATTEMPT AT DESERTION
XIX. AN IMPOTENT CONCLUSION
XX. THE FORCES OF NATURE
XXI. THE DEAD THAT LIVED
XXII. THE FIRE ON THE HILL
XXIII. AN ABDICATION
XXIV. WHAT ZEYNAB SAW
ILLUSTRATIONS.
“SINJĀJ KĪLIN SAHIB BAHADAR RIDES TO-NIGHT”
“MABEL STEPPED FORWARD, AND MET THE GLANCE OF
THE BOLD EYES UNDER THE GREEN TURBAN”
“FITZ CAUGHT THE LOOK OF AGONY IN BRENDON’S FACE”
“LOOK AFTER MY WIFE WHILE I’M AWAY”
“HE RIDES”
“STRETCHING OUT HIS HAND FOR THE PISTOL”
THE WARDEN OF THE MARCHES.
CHAPTER I.
THE COMING OF QUEEN MAB.
“Then the mail’s in, Georgie?”
“Yes, Dick; it came in about half-an-hour after you started. Here are
your letters.”
Major North threw himself luxuriously into a long cane chair, and held
out his hand for the bundle of envelopes and papers which his wife
gave him. “Anything from Mab?” he asked.
“Just a little scrap. Dick, I am getting dreadfully worried about
her--her letters have been so strange for such a long time, and now
the writing is so queer. She always seems as if she hadn’t a moment to
spare, and yet she really has nothing particular to do now. Do you
know, I am beginning to be afraid that the strain of your uncle’s
illness, and the shock of his death, have been too much for her. I am
sure she oughtn’t to be living all alone in that big house. I asked
Cecil Egerton to look after her, and I hoped to hear from her to-day,
but there is no letter. Aren’t you getting anxious yourself?” Major
North, deep in his correspondence, grunted assent. “What do you think
we had better do? Dick!--why, Dick!”
The letters went flying as Dick sprang up from his chair. His wife was
staring incredulously at a young lady in a grey riding-habit who was
cantering up the rough track, called by courtesy a drive, leading to
the house from the gateway of the compound. Catching sight of the two
figures on the verandah the new-comer pulled up her horse suddenly,
flung the bridle to the magnificent elderly servant who ran out from
the hall-door to meet her, and slipping from her saddle, mounted the
steps with a run.
“Oh, Dick! oh, Georgie! oh, my dear people, it is so good to see you
again! Don’t tear me in pieces between you.” Her brother and his wife,
dumb with astonishment, were both kissing her at once. “It is my real
self, you know, and not my astral body. Now do say you are surprised
to see me on the Khemistan frontier when you imagined I was in London!
Don’t rob me of the gratification I have come so far to enjoy.”
“Surprise is no word for it. We are utterly amazed, completely
flabbergasted,” said Dick slowly. His sister heaved a satisfied sigh.
“Thanks, Dick; I’m so glad. I did want to surprise you.”
“But, Mab, are you really only just off your journey?” cried Georgia.
“You must have a bath and a rest before you talk any more.”
“I come untold thousands of miles to see my only remaining relatives,
and they don’t think me fit to speak to until I have had a bath and a
rest!” cried Mabel. “No, Georgie, we only did a very short stage
to-day, so that we might arrive clean and comfortable. You don’t think
Mr Burgrave would omit anything that would enable him to make a more
dignified entrance into Alibad?”
“You don’t mean to say that you came up with the Commissioner?” cried
Dick and Georgia together.
“Rather!” A glance passed between husband and wife, and Mabel caught
it. “Now, why this thusness? I had a chaperon, I assure you. I’ll tell
you all about it. And the Commissioner has been most kind--and
patronising.”
“Probably,” said Dick dryly. “And was it Burgrave who escorted you to
the gate here?”
“Oh no; it was that nice boy who went to Kubbet-ul-Haj with you eight
years ago.”
“Boy!” cried Georgia. “My dear Mab, Fitz Anstruther is one of the most
rising young civilians in the province.”
“And he said,” went on Mabel, unheeding, “that he would look in again
after dinner. Well, Georgie, he is three years younger than I am, at
any rate. Now, Dick, don’t be rude and say that that wouldn’t make him
so very young after all. I know I’m in the sere and yellow leaf. The
fact was borne in upon me when I heard an angry woman on the voyage
informing her cabin-mates that I was ‘no chicken.’”
“What!” cried Dick. “Then the celebrated smile has been doing its
deadly work as usual? How many scalps this time, Mab?”
Mabel smiled gently. It might be perfectly true, as other women were
never tired of saying, that she had no claim to be called beautiful.
The most that could be said of her was that she was nice-looking, and
the effect of that (it was often added spitefully) was spoilt by the
singular and most unpleasing combination of fair hair with dark brown
eyes. But when the ladies had said their say, Mabel knew that she had
but to smile to bring every man in the neighbourhood to her feet.
There was a peculiar fascination about her smile which made a slave of
the man upon whom it shone. It called forth all that was best in him,
roused all the chivalry of his nature, and compelled him to devote
himself to Mabel’s service. Various irate London cabmen, an elderly
guard on the Caledonian Railway, and the magistrate who found himself
obliged to fine Mabel for allowing her fox-terrier to go about
unmuzzled, were among the victims. The magistrate was currently
reported to have apologised privately for doing his duty, and to have
been abjectly desirous of paying the fine out of his own pocket if
Mabel would have allowed it. It was commonly understood that General
North, Mabel’s late guardian, had found his life a burden to him owing
to the multitude of her suitors, and that he would scarcely allow her
to go out alone lest any unwary stranger, thanked with a smile for
some slight service, should be impelled to propose to her on the spot.
“Well, Mab,” said Dick again, as his sister did not answer, “the
voyage was the usual triumphal progress, I suppose? Any casualties?”
“No duels or suicides, Dick. The days of chivalry are gone, you know.
But every one was very nice. I don’t count the officers--it’s their
business to make themselves pleasant--but the captain took me into his
cabin and showed me the pictures of Mrs Captain and the little
Captains, and I was told he didn’t do that for everybody. The ladies
were not quite as friendly as--well, as I should have liked them to
be. They talked me over a good deal, too. Once they asked a rather
nice boy why he and all the rest thought such a lot of me. He couldn’t
think of anything to say but that I was ‘so awfully feminine, don’t
you know?’ When he thought of it afterwards he was rather pleased with
himself, and came and told me. It wasn’t bad, was it?”
“Oh, Mab!” said Georgia reproachfully.
“But, Georgie, you wouldn’t have me unfeminine, would you?”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Dick. “Well, Mab, as you have got here safely, I
suppose your friends were as helpful as your friends generally are?”
“They were perfectly delightful. When we got to Bombay they helped me
about my luggage, and told me the right hotel, and where to get an
ayah and a servant, and how to go to Bab-us-Sahel. To crown all, they
found me the chaperon I told you about--who turned out to be the
elderly lady who had disapproved of me most frankly of all on the
voyage. Her name is Hardy, and she was coming to join her husband
here. She is devoted to you, Georgie.”
“Dear old Mrs Hardy? I should think she was. It’s mutual.”
“Well, tastes differ. She is quite certain that I shall come to a bad
end. We didn’t speak very much on the way to Bab-us-Sahel, and when we
got there I was horrified to find what a journey we had still before
us. I knew the railway hadn’t got to you yet, but I thought it would
only mean perhaps a day in a palanquin, with tigers and interesting
things like that jumping out of the jungle every few minutes, and
brave rescuers turning up in the very nick of time to save one. I
never imagined there would be days and days of riding through a
desert, with no jungle and no tigers at all. Happily we fell in with
Mr Burgrave when we left the railway, and as he was coming here he
invited us to travel with his party in royal state, which we did. Mrs
Hardy quarrelled with him most days on some pretext or other for your
sakes, which I didn’t think nice of her when she was enjoying his
hospitality. She seemed to be convinced that everything he did was
bound to bring the province to destruction.” Again Dick and Georgia
exchanged glances. “Dick, what is wrong between you and Mr Burgrave? I
insist on knowing.”
“It’s unusual to find two men absolutely agreed on questions of
policy,” said Dick shortly.
“Well, just at present he has a grudge against you on my account. He
considers you guilty of culpable negligence in leaving such a delicate
and valuable piece of goods to find its way to Alibad unassisted. I
tried to point out that the blame was entirely due to the wicked
wilfulness of the piece of goods in question, but he still thinks you
sadly callous.”
“We haven’t heard yet what has brought her Majesty Queen Mab to Alibad
at all.”
“No, that’s another story. (Don’t you admire my local colour?) Here
followeth the confession of Mabel Louisa North. I had a great idea,
Georgie, a splendid idea, when uncle died and I was left alone. I
thought I would become a Medical, so as to come out in time and help
you. I knew you would jeer, Dick, and try to dissuade me, so I decided
not to say a word until I was fairly embarked on my triumphal career.
I was going to take the London Matric. in January, and when I was
entered at the School of Medicine I meant to burst out into sudden
blaze and wire you the astonishing news. But the whole thing missed
fire horribly. You may laugh, Georgie, for I dare say you have kept
your mind supple, like that old man who said he was always learning;
but you don’t know how frightfully difficult it is to bring your
mighty intellect down again to lessons when you haven’t done any for
years and years. Would you believe it?--I broke down under the stress
of the preparation--for the _Matric._, mind--and my eyes gave out. No,
it is nothing really bad”--as Georgia uttered a horrified
exclamation--“Sir William Thornycroft pledged himself that they would
soon be all right again if I gave up work and took to frivolling.”
“But if there’s nothing the matter with them, I can’t think why he
didn’t tell you to rest for a month or so, and let you go on again
with glasses,” said Georgia.
Mabel looked a little ashamed.
“Well, the fact is, I made rather a baby of myself. I couldn’t wear
glasses, Georgie--think what a guy I should look! And you can’t
imagine how disappointed I was. I knew that the loss of a month’s work
would mean that I should fail, and I was feeling very miserable
altogether, after weeks of awful headaches, and my eyes hurt so,
and--and--I wailed a little. Sir William was most sweet, and asked me
all about it; and then he said that he really didn’t think the Medical
was what I was best fitted for, and he advised me to travel for a
little while and forget all about it.”
“And not give up to medicine what was meant for mankind,” murmured
Dick softly.
“And she comes out here, where we have an eye-destroying glare all the
year round, and dust-storms two or three times a week, to cure her
eyes!” cried Georgia.
“My beloved Georgiana, I came here that you might minister to a mind
diseased. When once the thought had flashed upon me, I simply couldn’t
stay in England. I just flew round to the shops and bought whatever
they showed me, and started as soon as I could settle matters at home
and take my passage. I went on writing to you up to the very last
minute. I shouldn’t wonder if the letter I posted on my way to the
docks travelled in the steamer with me. Is that it there? Well, have I
explained matters?”
“It was an awful risk, Mab,” said Dick in an elder-brotherly tone. “We
might have been both ill, or out in the district, or touring in
Nalapur, or anything.”
“But you weren’t, you see, so it’s all right. I had an inspiration
that you’d be in your own house for Christmas. What time is dinner?
Lend me a warm tea-gown, Georgie. How cold it gets here when the sun
sets, and yet we were nearly roasted this morning! My belongings were
to follow in a bullock-cart or two, but I haven’t heard them arrive.
Oh, it is sweet to see you two again, and looking so thoroughly happy
and fit, too.”
She bestowed a kiss on the top of Dick’s head, remarking as she did so
that he was getting disgracefully bald, and rushed away to lavish a
series of hugs on Georgia in the privacy of her own room. Her toilet
did not take long when she was left alone, and she threw over her head
the white shawl Georgia had left with her, and stepped out on the
verandah. There was only a faint gleam of moonlight, and a sense of
the vastness and dreariness of the desert around crept over her as she
tried to distinguish in the blackness the lights of the Alibad
cantonments, through which she had passed in the afternoon. The wind
was chill, and gathering her wrap more closely round her, she turned
to find her way back to the drawing-room. As she did so, the sound of
a horse’s footsteps struck upon her ear. Some one was riding past the
house at no great distance, riding at a smart pace, which caused a
clatter of accoutrements and an occasional sharp metallic ring when
the horse’s hoofs came in contact with a rock.
“How horrid it must be riding in the dark!” said Mabel to herself.
“Dick,” she cried, meeting her brother in the hall, “are you expecting
any one to dinner? Some one is coming here on horseback.”
“Oh no, it’s no one for us,” he answered shortly.
“But where can he be going, then? I thought this was the last English
house on the frontier? It’s a soldier, I’m sure, for I heard his sword
knocking against the stirrup, or whatever it is that makes the
clinkety-clanking noise.”
“I can’t tell you who it is, for I don’t know, but the natives will
tell you, if you are particularly anxious to hear. They say it’s
General Keeling.”
“Georgia’s father? But he’s dead!”
“Exactly.”
“But do you mean that it’s his ghost?”
“Don’t talk so loud. I don’t want Georgia worried just now, and she
may not have noticed the sound. The natives say that whenever there is
going to be trouble on the frontier St George Keeling gallops from
point to point to see that things are all right, just as he would have
done in his lifetime.”
“Oh, but they don’t believe it really?”
“You shall see. Ismail Bakhsh!” The old _chaprasi_ who had met Mabel
at the door came forward, gorgeous in his scarlet coat and gold badge,
and saluted. “Tell the Miss Sahib who it is she hears, out beyond the
far corner of the compound.”
The old man drew himself up and saluted again. “Sinjāj Kīlin Sahib
Bahadar rides to-night, Miss Sahib.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” said Mabel, turning to her brother with a blanched
face. Ismail Bakhsh understood her words.
“Nay, Miss Sahib, it is well, rather. When the day comes that there is
trouble on the border, and Kīlin Sahib does not ride, then the reign
of the Sarkar will be ended in Khemistan, and it may be in all
Hindustan also.”
“That will do, Ismail Bakhsh,” said Dick, when he had interpreted the
old man’s words. “Come into the drawing-room, Mab.”
“But, Dick, it can’t be true? Isn’t some one playing a trick?”
“We have never been able to bring it home to any one if it is a trick.
Anstruther and I have watched in vain, and most of the fellows from
the cantonments have had a try too. We heard just what you hear, but
we could never see anything.”
“Dick, I think you are most awfully brave.” Mabel shuddered as she
pictured Dick and his friend approaching the sound, locating it
exactly, perhaps--oh, horror!--hearing it pass between them, while
still there was nothing to be seen. “Does it--he--ever come any
nearer? How fearful if he should ride up to the door!”
“Why, Mab, you don’t mean to say you believe in it?” Dick looked at
her curiously. “It’s quite true that the sound is heard when there’s
going to be trouble, for I have noticed it time after time; but I have
a very simple theory to account for that. When the tribes living
beyond this stretch of desert intend to make themselves disagreeable,
they send mounted messengers to one another. The desert air carries
sound well, and I’m not prepared to say that these rocks here may not
have some peculiar property which makes them carry sound well too, but
at any rate we hear, as if it was quite close, what is actually
happening miles and miles away.”
“Oh, do you really think so?” Mabel was much cheered. “But then, why
should Georgia be frightened if she heard it?”
“Because of the trouble it foreshadows, which is a sad and sober
reality, not on account of the supernatural story the natives have
taken it into their heads to get up.”
Georgia’s entrance and the announcement of dinner banished the
disquieting topic, and Mabel’s creepy sensations vanished speedily
under the influence of the light and warmth and brightness
encompassing the meal, so eminently Western and ordinary in its
appointments save for the presence of the noiseless Hindu servants.
Old times and scenes were discussed by the three, and family jokes
recalled with infinite zest, in momentary entire forgetfulness of the
turbulent frontier and the haunted desert outside. Shortly after a
move had been made into the drawing-room, however, the flow of
reminiscences was interrupted by the entrance of Dick’s subordinate,
the handsome young civilian who had escorted Mabel to her brother’s
door. He walked in unannounced, as one very much at home.
“With Dr Tighe’s compliments to the rival practitioner,” he said,
handing a copy of the _Lancet_ to Georgia. “I shall pass the Doctor’s
quarters going home, Mrs North, so I can leave your _British Medical_
for him if you have done with it.”
“I will put it out for you,” said Georgia. “You have seen Miss North
already, I think?”
“Yes, indeed. It was this afternoon that I had the astonishment and
delight of learning that the Kumpsioner Sahib had atoned for all his
sins against this frontier.”
“What, does Burgrave climb down?” cried Dick.
“Not a bit of it, Major. He’s on the war-path, and seeing red. But he
has escorted Miss North safely here.”
“Oh, is Mr Burgrave anxious for war?” asked Mabel. “I suppose that’s
the trouble which is coming on the frontier, then?” She stopped
suddenly, with a guilty glance at Georgia.
“Never mind, Mab; I heard it,” said her sister-in-law quietly.
“I should think so!” cried Fitzgerald Anstruther. “The old joker--beg
your pardon, Mrs North--the old ch--General--was riding like mad. No,
Miss North, war is the last thing that our most peaceful-minded
Commissioner desires. He is coming to bring this benighted province up
to date, and assimilate it to the well-governed districts he has known
hitherto.”
“After all, we can’t be sure of his intentions,” said Georgia. “What
we have heard may be only rumour.”
“No; he is on the war-path, Mrs North, as I said. Young Timson, of the
Telegraphs, who came up with him, was in with me just now, and says
that he talked quite openly of his plans.”
“I don’t mind the man’s intentions,” cried Dick hotly, “if they are
founded on an honest opinion. What I do mind is his talking of them to
outsiders as if they were accomplished facts, before he has said a
word to the men on the spot.”
“Oh, but you forget that the Commissioner’s intentions are as good as
accomplished facts, Major,” said Fitz. “‘Is it not already done,
Sahib?’ as my old villain of a bearer says when I tell him to do
something he has no idea of doing.
“‘For the Khans must come down and Amirs they must frown
When the Kumpsioner Sahib says “Stop”!
(Poor beggars!--we’re here to say “Stop”!)’
aren’t we?” he added dolefully. “Timson says that Burgrave is
particularly strong on cutting loose from Nalapur.”
“Oh, do explain these technicalities a little!” pleaded Mabel. Her
brother took up the task promptly, seeming to find in it some sort of
relief to his feelings.
“I suppose you know that Khemistan has always been governed on a plan
of its own? When it was first annexed Georgia’s father was put in
charge of this frontier, which was then the wildest, thievingest, most
lawless place in creation. He raised the Khemistan Horse, and used
them indiscriminately as troops and police. Small parties were
stationed all along the frontier, and they were ready to march in any
direction, day or night, at the news of a raid or a scrimmage. Within
a few years the frontier was quiet, and General Keeling kept it so. He
had his own methods of doing it, and the Government didn’t always
agree with them, wherefore he ragged the Government, and the
Government snubbed him, horribly. However, he held on to his post, and
died at it, and then the bad old days began again. That was just
before I came up here, and I found that the people looked back to
Sinjāj Kīlin’s days as a kind of Golden Age----”
“Oh, Dick, they do still,” cried Mabel. “It makes poor Mr Burgrave so
vexed. He told me that whenever an old chief comes to pay his
respects, the first thing he asks is always whether the Commissioner
Sahib knew Sinjāj Kīlin. He got so tired of it at last that he said
he would have given worlds to shout, ‘Thank goodness, _no_!’”
“Don’t doubt it for a moment. Well, they tried to govern Khemistan on
the lines of the province next door, which has always been in the
hands of the opposition school. Result--confusion, and all but civil
war. Most of St George Keeling’s young men gave up in disgust, and the
Amir of Nalapur, just across the frontier, who had been the General’s
firm ally, was goaded into enmity. That was the state of things five
years ago.”
“And then,” said Georgia, “dear old Sir Magnus Pater, who was
Commissioner for Khemistan in my father’s time, used all his influence
to get Dick appointed Frontier Superintendent. It was the last thing
he did before he retired, and we were thankful to leave Iskandarbagh,
and to get back to our very own country.”
“And in less than no time,” put in Fitz, “the frontier was quiet,
thanks to a judicious revival of General Keeling’s methods, and the
Amir of Nalapur was assuring Major North that he was his father and
his mother. Mrs North’s fame as a physician of supernatural powers,
and the Major’s military discipline, have worked wonders in crushing
the proud and extorting the respectful admiration of the submissive.”
“Oh, that reminds me!” cried Mabel. “Georgie, do you write Dick’s
reports for him? Mr Burgrave really believes you do.”
(“Oh, Miss North, what an injudicious question!” murmured Fitz, _sotto
voce_.)
“Certainly not,” returned Georgia briskly. “Do you think I would
encourage Dick in such idleness? We write them together.”
“But,” objected Mabel, “I can’t see why Mr Burgrave should come to
disturb all you have done if you have got on so well.”
“O wise young judge!” said Dick. “That’s exactly what we can’t see
either.”
“Because he is tired of hearing General Keeling alluded to as the best
feared, and loved, and hated man in Anglo-Indian history,” said Fitz.
“Because to see your next-door neighbour succeeding where you have
failed, by dint of methods which you regard with holy horror, is
distasteful to the natural man. But let me tell you a little story,
Miss North--an Oriental apologue, full of local colour. The ruler of
many millions was glancing over the map of his dominions one morning,
when his symmetry-loving eye lit upon one province governed
differently from all the rest. To him, imperiously demanding an
explanation, there enters Eustace Burgrave, Esq., of the Secretariat,
C.S.I. and other desirable things, armed with a beautifully written
minute on the subject, and points out that the province is not only a
scandal and an eyesore, but a happy hunting-ground for firebrand
soldier-politicals who know better than viceroys--a class of persons
that obviously ought to be stamped out in the interests of good
government. Any remedies for this atrocious state of things?
Naturally, Mr Burgrave is prepared with measures that will make
Khemistan the garden of India and a lasting memorial of the ruler’s
happy reign. No time is wasted. ‘Take the province, Burgrave,’ says
the Great Great One, with tears of emotion, ‘and my blessing with it,’
and Burgrave accepts both. Hitherto he has been reforming the course
of nature down by the river, now he comes up here to teach us a lesson
in our turn.”
“And do you mean to let him do what he likes?” cried Mabel.
“Nonsense, Mab! He is supreme here,” said Dick.
“Besides, Miss North,” Fitz went on, “the Commissioner’s imposing
personality puts opposition out of the question. You must have noticed
the condescending loftiness of his manner, springing from the
assurance that his career will be in the future, as in the past, a
succession of triumphs. Failure is not in his vocabulary. He is born
for greatness. Who could see that cold blue eye, that monumental nose,
and doubt it? Nothing short of a general convulsion of nature could
disturb the even tenor of his way.”
“Well, I am not quite sure of that,” said Mabel musingly.
“Oh, I’m afraid there’s no hope of him as a lady’s man, if that’s what
you mean, Miss North. It is understood that he’s by no means a
hardened misogynist, but neither is he looking for a wife. He is
simply waiting quite dispassionately to see whether the feminine
counterpart of his perfections will ever present herself. Year after
year at Calcutta and Simla he has surveyed the newest young ladies out
from home and found them wanting, and their mothers go away into
corners and call him names, which is unjust. His fitting mate would
scarcely appear once in a lifetime, perhaps not in an age.”
“I think Mr Burgrave needs a lesson,” said Mabel.
“But consider, Miss North. It is no obscure future that the favoured
damsel will be called upon to share. In time she will clothe her
_jampanis_ at Simla in scarlet, and by-and-by, if she does what he
tells her, she will sport the Crown of India on a neat coloured
ribbon.”
“I think it will be well for me to take him in hand,” Mabel persisted.
“For goodness’ sake, Mab, don’t make matters worse by importing the
celebrated smile into the affair!” cried Dick.
“Worse? Dick, you are ungrateful. When Mr Burgrave has found himself
mistaken in one matter of importance, he will be less cocksure in
others.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Georgia. “And take care, Mab. It’s
dangerous playing with edged tools.”
“Then I will take the risk. Reverence your heroic sister, Dick,
willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of your career.”
“And if the worst come to the worst, the prospective glories of the
viceregal throne will gild the pill,” said Fitz.