THE IDEAL AND THE REAL.
The secretary came in with his hands full of papers, and Gerrard left
the office, hardly knowing whither he went. James Antony, sitting in
his shirt-sleeves among the records of his interrupted labours in
another room, took a huge cheroot out of his mouth and called to him as
he passed, but he muttered something unintelligible and hurried on. Up
and down the stone-paved courtyard he paced, much to the perturbation
of the sentry at the gateway, who found the form of madness with which
the Sahib must be afflicted difficult to classify. Gerrard was
wrestling with himself and with the impulse to throw up political
employment altogether and go back to the routine work of his
profession. When he and Charteris left Ranjitgarh together, he had
envied his friend, and wished that his work also lay in the open air
and among unsophisticated children of nature. But now the environment
in which he had spent the past year had left its traces on him,
heightening his natural tendency to proceed by sap and mine rather than
by direct assault, and rendering him still less ready than before to
cut Gordian knots when by any conceivable expenditure of time and
patience they might ultimately be undone. In other words, his Agpur
training had improved his fitness for work of the same kind, but left
him worse adapted than before for the rough and ready methods necessary
for the ruler of Darwan. And he was to succeed Charteris, whose
success in these very rough and ready methods had been pre-eminent, and
who would much have preferred to do the wrong thing at once rather than
the right thing after a lengthy pause.
So much engrossed was Gerrard in his meditations that the jingling and
clanking that told of the arrival of a party of horsemen at the gate of
the Residency failed to attract his notice, and it was not until, as he
turned in his backward and forward march, he came face to face with Bob
Charteris sitting on his horse in the moonlight and solemnly regarding
him, that he realised he was no longer alone. He stood speechless.
"Thought I'd wait and see how long you could keep it up--brown study as
usual!" cried Charteris. "Why, I believe the beggar takes me for a
ghost! Hal, old boy!" bending from the saddle he bestowed on Gerrard a
most unghostly clap on the shoulder. "I'm come back to plague you; do
you twig--eh?"
"Bob!" cried Gerrard, shaking hands with him rapturously. "My dear old
fellow, I never was so glad in my life!"
"And I believe the fool really is glad, instead of having been thankful
that his hated rival was safely out of the way," said Charteris
compassionately.
"Glad is no word for it," said Gerrard. "Come and tell me all about
yourself. I'm in the old place--you'll chum with me as usual, of
course?"
"I believe you, my boy! But I must satisfy the natural curiosity of
the higher powers first. I suppose it's true, as they told me at the
gate, that the Colonel has come down like a wolf on the fold, and
sneaked the conduct of affairs out of the hands of our Mr James?"
"Yes, he is here. You know he's got his K.C.B.?"
"Wish he had stayed up in the hills with it, then. I don't admire
James Antony's taste in jokes, but his heavy hand appeals to me in
connection with Sher Singh. Now I am afraid the erring brother will be
received with tears of joy and forgiven on the spot and coddled
afterwards, and I wanted him kept in suspense for a bit and then put on
probation. He has given me some precious unpleasant moments, I can
tell you. Well, you go off and prepare fatted calf and any other
suitably symbolical prog you may have at hand, and I'll turn up as soon
as I can."
Munshi Somwar Mal was in waiting to escort Charteris to his quarters
when he emerged from his interview with the Resident, and greeted him
with genuine pleasure.
"Now do the nightingales sing once more in the groves of friendship!"
he remarked. "Verily for Jirad Sahib the flame of joy has of late
burned low in the lamp of life, but now the oil of Chatar Sahib's
presence will replenish it until it illuminates all Granthistan."
With similar flowery compliments he beguiled the whole way, and
Charteris noted with admiration that he did not once repeat his
metaphors. On the well-remembered verandah Gerrard's servant was
putting the finishing touches to the supper-table, to furnish which he
had raided the Resident's larder and suborned his cook, and Charteris
threw himself into a chair with a sigh of satisfaction. Gerrard,
moving things about energetically inside to make room for him, called
out that he would come in a moment, and presently emerged and sat down
opposite him.
"Well, this is just what I like--and a few over," remarked Charteris
contentedly. "So I hear you are going to sneak my job, old boy?"
"I shall hand it back to you with the utmost pleasure, Bob, as you can
well guess. But tell me how it is you are here at all."
Charteris assumed a deeply sententious manner. "You are not wholly
unacquainted with the literature of our vivacious kindred across the
Atlantic, I believe, Hal? Well, do you know the expression 'playing
possum'? because that's what I did. I got a glancing bullet across my
forehead, where this imposing scar is, just here, which stunned me at
first, and must have made a ghastly-looking wound, but the
unconsciousness didn't last more than a minute or two. At least,
that's what I gather from seeing my precious Darwanis in full flight
when I got the blood out of my eyes. Their way of conducting a retreat
was always to fire a volley and then run away helter-skelter, and
though I had been teaching them better manners, I always knew they
would break if I wasn't there to stiffen them. I was a good deal
knocked about, besides the wound on the head, and before I could manage
to roll into the bushes, Sher Singh's men were back. I thought it well
to appear more dead than I was, especially when I saw them going round
and finishing off all our wounded that they could find. They were in a
great hurry, and I gathered that your men had driven them off, and they
felt it advisable to make themselves scarce. I was in full view,
unluckily, and expected to get the _coup de grâce_ every moment, but
when they came to me they took me up without troubling to see whether I
was alive or not, and threw me over a horse. It was not what you would
call a luxurious mode of travelling, and twice I managed to drop off,
feet first, hoping they would leave me lying where I was and go on in
disgust. They were disgusted--highly, but their remarks made it clear
that Sher Singh had ordered you and me to be brought in dead or alive,
preferably alive, so I condescended to exhibit signs of life, and they
hoisted me up behind one of them. That was an uncommon disagreeable
ride, I can tell you."
"I started to come back and look for you, Bob, but I couldn't get far
enough."
"Of course you couldn't. Why, this alone"--he touched the sling of
Gerrard's broken arm--"shows that you were much worse hurt than I was.
But I was pretty well done for, and a most gruesome object, when we
came up with Sher Singh. His manners ain't exactly ingratiating at the
best of times, as you have more than once remarked to me, but when he
saw my unlucky hair, his language was positively improper. You see, it
was my misfortune--and your very good fortune, I'm inclined to
think--that I wasn't you. He even sent for water and had some of the
blood washed off my face, to make sure, I suppose, that we hadn't
exchanged wigs in the hope of deceiving him, and when he was quite sure
who I wasn't, I expected nothing better than to be cut into little bits
there and then. But some one ventured to suggest something, and he
came at me with great fury and demanded whether I knew where Partab
Singh's hidden treasure was. I know I ought to have struck a heroic
attitude and refused to speak, but as a matter of fact, I fainted. It
was horribly ill-timed, for Sher Singh is bound to believe for ever
that it was sheer terror of his alarming aspect that did it, but it was
precious fortunate for me, for when I woke up I was in a palanquin, and
they had tied up my head and looked after me a bit. Dear, good,
sympathetic souls! how they did try to make things pleasant for
me--always dinning into my ears that Sher Singh was fattening me for
the slaughter--the torture, I mean! They used to congregate outside
and discuss tortures in the halts, when I might have had a chance to
get a little sleep if there had been any air, like a whole regiment of
Fat Boys."
"If we had only known you were alive, Bob!"
"Oh, don't think _I'm_ trying to make your flesh creep. All's well
that ends well, and it's a useful experience to have been through.
Shows a fellow he can stand a good deal more than he ever thought he
could, I mean. But perhaps it was just as well it was me and not you."
"Complimentary, as usual!" Gerrard's laugh was a little forced.
"It's merely a question of nerves, old boy. You would have been
picturing the details over and over again when the beggars were not
talking about 'em, whereas I was able to put them out of my mind.
Well, we got to Agpur at last, and once in the palace, Sher Singh set
to work to try kindness. He let me take up my quarters--watched day
and night, of course--in your old Residency, which looks a good deal
the worse for wear since you left it. The servants you left in charge
seem to have taken first choice when they heard you were hardly likely
to come back, and then the palace servants and the guards had their
turn. Your books were all torn to pieces--they must have thought you
had gold-leaf hidden between the pages--and scattered all about the
place. I camped in the ruins, and Sher Singh came to see me twice. He
talked to me like a man and a brother, pointed out how important it was
for him to find the treasure, what a guarantee of peace it would be,
and how he was obviously the rightful owner now that his father and
brother were dead. I agreed with him in everything, but declined
respectfully to say whether I knew where it was or not. When he
proceeded to threats, I told him that he must think me as big a fool as
I was beginning to consider him. I was not going to tell him whether I
knew the secret, because if I did know it, he would at once begin to
make things very unpleasant for me, and if I didn't, he might kill me
as useless. On the other hand, he could not proceed to extremities
while he was still uncertain, because if I knew the hiding-place, he
would have killed the goose that laid the golden eggs, and if I didn't,
he would have thrown away uselessly his one chance of placating Antony.
That was just when Nisbet was beginning to thunder at the gates of
Agpur--or rather, a good way off them--so it appealed to him. Of
course the flaw in the argument was that if he knew his business, his
torturer might contrive to extract the answer to the question, and the
secret, without killing me, but I had to treat that possibility as
absolutely non-existent. Still, he found out the secret at last."
"Bob!" cried Gerrard anxiously.
"Sold again. This was how he did it. After dogging me all over the
place, trying to discover by my face where the treasure might be
hidden, they hit upon a new plan, by which, if the worst came to the
worst, they could produce my body quite free from marks of violence,
and so satisfy Antony. It was a fiendish thing, Hal. As soon as ever
I went to sleep, day or night, they woke me up, and asked me if I knew
where the treasure was. I stood it for two days and nights, but if it
had gone on, I swear to you I must have given in; I was pretty near mad
then. But curiously enough, Sher Singh discovered the treasury for
himself in an odd sort of way. You know the great tank where the lotus
grows? Well, one of Sher Singh's ladies brought some gold-fish with
her from Adamkot and turned them into it. The fish all died--change of
diet, I suppose, but she swore that the deaf and dumb boatman had
killed them. It was clearly a case of 'Off with his head!' for the
poor wretch couldn't defend himself, but he made signs that if they
would let him off he would show them something. They were open to a
deal, and he took them across to the thicket of bamboos, and showed
them the door in the wall, making them understand somehow that old
Partab Singh used to go that way often at night. They lost the scent
when they found that the door only led down to the wild beasts' pit,
but picked it up again by a very pretty bit of deduction. It was quite
certain that the treasury couldn't be under the pit or under the tank,
so that the passage leading to it must pass between them, and it must
lie in the direction either of the palace or the Residency. They broke
ground in the Residency direction first, sinking two or three shafts in
likely places, while I watched them with great interest, and asked
intelligent questions. It was the one way I had of getting a little
bit even with them for what they were doing to me. They held to the
Residency theory because they couldn't see otherwise how you managed to
get at the treasure for paying the soldiers without being discovered,
but Sher Singh never believed in it much. Once when he was a small boy
his father let him come with him into the ordinary treasury under the
zenana, and he heard what sounded to him like men working underground
not very far off. He couldn't make out where the sound came from, and
his father diddled him with some fairy-tale to account for it, but now
he remembered. So he had every inch of the treasury walls examined,
and they came on the air-hole looking into the passage. Then they had
only to break down the wall between, and there they were--and I give
you my word for it, Hal, I was thankful! When they were all busy
watching what was being done, and the gold was being handed up through
a shaft that they dug, I just dropped down and went to sleep. It
wasn't for long, but when I woke up I felt fit to face Sher Singh or
the devil himself."
"Pretty much the same thing, after all," said Gerrard grimly.
"I should rayther think so! But the worst was over. It seems that
they were uncommon disappointed in the amount of the treasure. They
expected sufficient to make them all rich for life, and there was only
just about enough to settle Sher Singh comfortably on the _gaddi_."
"Just what I calculated--only it was for poor little Kharrak Singh."
"Well, they held palaver upon palaver to decide whether they should
hang the expense and plump for immediate war, beginning upon me.
Everybody talked very big about wanting to fight, but nobody really
cared about it. The army have plenty of money left for the present,
and want to spend it, and the secret messengers sent to see whether the
Granthis generally would join in a rising against the English were not
encouraging. It'll be just as well for Antony to know that they look
forward to a shindy before very long, but they ain't equal to kicking
it up in cold blood just yet. The council had no illusions as to the
possibility of the Agpuris making head against us without allies, and
your old friend Dwarika Nath, who has come back as Diwan, was very
strong on the need of prudence."
"The old reprobate!" cried Gerrard. "Master and man are pretty well
matched."
"So I should guess. At last they did me the honour to call me into
consultation. There was no parade of tenderness for my feelings, but
they did make it clear that while every man of them would have made it
his particular business to see that you underwent the longest and most
uncomfortable death that could be had, they considered me not half a
bad sort. Therefore they did their best to frighten me into promising
them all sorts of concessions in Antony's name, and all I could do was
to invite them to kill me at once, since that would be far less painful
to my feelings than the consequences that would follow if I attempted
to negotiate treaties on my own responsibility. At the same time I
dropped a hint that since the murder of a British officer was a
prominent count in the bill Nisbet was presenting, it would undoubtedly
be an extenuating circumstance if the said officer could be produced
alive and only superficially damaged. We wrangled a good bit, but at
last I agreed to act as mediator on the basis of the execution of
Kharrak Singh's murderers, the retention by the Rani of her _jaghirs_
or their equivalent in cash, and a settlement of the frontier
question--all of them bitter pills for the Agpuris to swallow, but
indispensable, I assured them, if their professions of goodwill were to
be accepted."
"The execution of Kharrak Singh's murderers! You were pretty cool to
demand that, and they must have been mad, or pretty well desperate, to
grant it."
"Why, you have picked out the easiest condition of the lot. His
official murderers, I mean. They confessed, four of them--what they
were paid for doing it I don't know--and I saw them blown from guns
myself. But paying the Rani's jointure--that was a bitter pill, I
grant you. I had to engage that any jewels or cash in her possession
when she dies--a natural death, of course, understood--shall return to
Sher Singh, before he would promise, and even then it was like bleeding
him white. And the rectification of the frontier, on which Antony laid
such stress in his instructions to Nisbet, will be opposed by all Agpur
when they hear of it. I hope our Mr James may be in power again when
it comes to be settled, to carry it through by sheer strength of will,
for I should be very sorry to be in charge of the negotiations unless I
had overwhelming force at hand in support."
"I suppose there's no doubt that Sir Edmund will accept Sher Singh's
submission on these terms?" asked Gerrard gloomily.
"None whatever, I should say, judging by the way he received them just
now."
"And this is the end of it, then! Sher Singh gets all he wanted at the
price of a few rupees to the heirs of the _badmashes_ he has bribed to
take his guilt upon them."
"My dear fellow, you can prove nothing against him, and we have no
power to bring him to trial. I believe you and I are fated to be the
instruments of exemplary vengeance upon him eventually, ain't we,
according to the Rani? Till then we must be content to see him
flourishing like the green bay-tree."
"But we need not supply the bay-tree with water and the soil that suits
it, and with a gardener to look after it and railings to keep off the
goats," grumbled Gerrard.
"Oh, you are getting too horrid technical for me," said Charteris, with
a yawn. "I don't know what you feel about turning in, Hal, but your
unfortunate servants will certainly think they ain't going home till
morning. I have been riding all day, you know."
Gerrard laughed, and the sitting broke up. The two friends hardly saw
each other the next day, so closely was Charteris closeted with Sir
Edmund Antony and his brother, discussing the affairs of Agpur, and
when he was released, Gerrard was sent for, to throw the light of his
experience on the present situation. It was dark when he got back to
his quarters, and he started when Charteris bounced up out of the
depths of a long chair.
"I thought you were never coming! Hal, I've seen her."
His tone was so instinct with rapture that Gerrard's heart stood still.
"Where?" he asked hoarsely.
"At the band. Driving with her mother. Lady Cinnamond was uncommon
kind--let me ride on her side of the carriage. Hal, she
blushed--blushed when she saw me! She was looking stunning--so pale
and cool; she never has much colour in her cheeks, has she? She had on
one of those worked muslin gowns, and a big floppy hat with black
streamers to it, and black velvet round her neck--nothing pink or blue
to take your eyes from her face."
"Yes?" muttered Gerrard, as Charteris paused in blissful contemplation
of the picture he had evoked.
"Yes? oh, that was all. I rode beside her, and looked at her, and her
hand lay on the side of the carriage quite close to me--I wanted to
kiss it, but I didn't dare. And she let me hold it for a moment when I
bade them good-day--at least, perhaps she didn't let me, but I did,
anyhow--and she blushed, blushed divinely."
Gerrard sprang up and paced the verandah hastily. Charteris woke from
his dream of bliss.
"Old boy, I'm sorry--'pon my word I am. But after all, she is free to
choose, ain't she? With any other girl one wouldn't think much of a
blush. But one never sees her change colour, and I came upon her
suddenly, so she couldn't have been thinking of me before. I thought
old Sir Arthur would never have done with congratulating me on my
escape, and that sort of thing--and a man can't be rude to his
prospective papa-in-law, can he? But when I saw the greys coming down
the drive, and the two parasols in the carriage--why, I made myself
scarce in no time, and the old boy positively beamed upon my departure."
"And having made sure of the lady and her parents both, when do you
propose to clinch the matter?" demanded Gerrard savagely.
Charteris looked at him in surprise. "Why, Hal, you don't imagine that
I meant to run away from our compact? We'll draw lots who shall speak
first exactly as we arranged. Unless"--with sudden fierce
suspicion--"you took your opportunity when you thought I was dead?"
"Bob!" cried Gerrard, so reproachfully that his friend could not doubt
him. "I had given up all thoughts of it. I never went near her
without talking of you."
"Oh!" said Charteris rather blankly. "I hope you haven't made her
think I'm like a brute in a poetry-book? Because if so, she'll be
disappointed."
"I can't help what she thinks," growled Gerrard. "I told her nothing
that wasn't true."
"I don't suppose you did. But it's the finishing touches that count in
these things, my boy. And if she chooses to fit me out with a halo and
a pedestal--why, when she discovers the truth, I shall really be
_finished off_. But after all," with reviving cheerfulness, "it ain't
my fault if she is kind enough to endow me with imaginary virtues. She
blushed, anyhow. And when a girl accepts a man, it's as if she gave
him leave to teach her the difference between creatures in books, and
fellows as they are. And if she's agreeable, why, so am I; with all my
heart, says I. That's my theory."
"Bob, you are really in earnest? It isn't one of your jokes?"
"Jokes, indeed!" said Charteris, in high dudgeon. "I'll show you how
much in earnest I am, Lieutenant Henry Gerrard. We'll go to business
to-morrow, if you please."
"Then you wish to draw the lots to-night?"
"No, don't let us have any melodramatic nonsense with straws, or bits
of wood of different lengths. We'll go down to the gateway to-morrow
between one and two, when there's scarcely a creature about, and one
shall look up the street, and the other down. Whoever can count twenty
human beings first shall have first right to speak. Are you agreeable?"
"All serene. But what if we both call out at once?"
"Try again, of course. It ain't likely to happen twice. The sentry
will think we have got a wager on, so there won't be any fuss."
* * * * * *
Charteris proved successful in the counting competition, announcing his
twenty while Gerrard had only reached seventeen. As he was dining with
the Cinnamonds that night, the fates seemed to be propitious. But when
Gerrard came back from supping with the James Antonys, he found his
friend reclining on the verandah, in an attitude suggestive of
despondency.
"Sold again!" said a sepulchral voice from the recesses of the long
chair.
"You don't mean that she has refused you, Bob?"
"Oh, don't I?" the voice suggested something more than sulkiness. "If
I don't, I'm very much mistaken. She told me that I wasn't what she
expected, in a way that implied I was a very poor creature indeed. If
that was acceptance, all I can say is, I hope you may be accepted too!"