MRS. CHUDLEIGH FINDS A CLUE
On a dark November morning when a blustering wind drove the rain
against the windows Thomas Foster sat stripping the lock of a favourite
gun in the room he called his study at Hazlehurst in Shropshire. The
shelves on the handsome panelled walls contained a few works on
agriculture, horse-breeding, and British natural history, but two racks
were filled with guns and fishing rods and the table Foster was seated
at had a vice clamped to its edge. He had once had a commodious
gunroom, but had given it up, under pressure from his wife, who thought
she could make a better use of it, since Hazlehurst was small and she
had numerous guests, but the study was his private retreat. A hacksaw,
a few files, a wire brush, and a bottle of Rangoon oil were spread out
in front of him, the latter standing, for the sake of cleanliness, on
the cover of the _Field_.
Foster was a red-faced country gentleman who found his greatest
interest in outdoor sports and was characterized by some native
shrewdness and a genial but rather abrupt manner. He laid down his
tools and looked up with an air of humorous resignation as his wife
came in. Mrs. Foster was a slender, vivacious woman, fond of society.
"Put that greasy thing away for a few minutes and listen to me," she
said, sitting down opposite him.
"I am listening; I'm inclined to think it's my normal state," Foster
answered with a smile. "The greasy thing cost forty guineas, and I
wouldn't trust it to Jenkins after young Jimmy dropped it in a ditch.
Jenkins can rear pheasants with any keeper I've met, but he's no good
at a gun."
"You shouldn't have taken Jimmy out; he's not strong enough yet."
"So it seems; he gave us some trouble in getting him back to the cart
after he collapsed in the wood, but it wasn't my fault. He was keen on
coming."
Mrs. Foster made a sign of agreement. Jimmy was her cousin, Lieutenant
Walters, lately invalided home from India.
"Perhaps you were not so much to blame, but that was not what I came to
talk about," she said.
"Then I suppose you want my approval of some new plans. Go ahead with
any arrangements you wish to make, but as far as possible, leave me
out. Though it was a very wet spring, I never saw the pheasants more
plentiful; glad I stuck to the hand-rearing, though Jenkins wanted to
leave the birds alone in the higher woods. Of course, now we've
cleared out the vermin----"
"Oh! never mind," his wife broke in. "You would talk about such things
all day. The question is----"
"It strikes me it's---- When are we going to have the house to
ourselves? Though I don't interfere much, I've lately felt that I'm
qualifying for a hotel-keeper."
"You have been unusually patient, and I'm getting rather tired of
entertaining people, but Margaret Keith says she'd like to come down.
You don't mind her?"
"Not a bit, if she doesn't insist on bringing a menagerie. It was cats
last time, but I hear she's now gone in for wild animals. If she turns
up with her collection, we'll probably lose Pattinson; he had all he
could stand on the last occasion. Still, Meg's good fun; ready to meet
you on any ground, keen as a razor. But what about Mrs. Chudleigh? Is
she going?"
"She hasn't mentioned it. In fact, I was wondering----"
"Whether she'd stop if you pressed her? Try it and see. Anyhow, she's
not in my way and the place seems to meet with her approval. But
what's she after? It can't be young Jimmy; he's hardly worth powder
and shot from her point of view."
"You're rather coarse, but I agree," Mrs. Foster answered. "Jimmy's
too young and hasn't much beside his pay. His admiration's
respectfully platonic, but it's largely on his account I thought of
asking her to remain. I'm grateful to her for amusing the poor fellow,
because, as he can't get about with the others, he'd have been left a
good deal to himself if she hadn't taken him up. She's excellent
company when she exerts herself, and she talks and reads to him with
great good-nature."
"Do what you wish. Perhaps I shouldn't have spoken so freely about a
friend of yours."
"I don't know whether I quite consider her a friend or not," Mrs.
Foster thoughtfully replied. "She was staying at Mabel's when I was
there, but we didn't become intimate. In fact, I think I asked her
down because she made me feel she wanted to come."
"A delicate hint sometimes goes a long way. Still, there's no doubt
she has brightened Jimmy up, and one feels sorry for him."
Mrs. Foster went out, and, finding her guest, asked her to stay on,
which, after a few demurs, Mrs. Chudleigh agreed to do, and on being
left alone smiled in a satisfied manner. She had played her cards
cleverly in obtaining a footing at Hazlehurst, which was a pleasant
house to stay at, and thought that with good luck she might win the
game she had begun. She was a hard and somewhat unscrupulous woman,
but a tender look crept into her eyes as she thought of the man whose
prospects she meant to improve.
Left a widow at an early age by the death of an elderly Anglo-Indian
whom she had married under pressure from her parents, she had spent
some years in social enjoyments before she met Sedgwick, with whom she
fell in love. She was clever enough to recognize his faults, but she
liked his bold, ambitious nature. Though he had no private means and
she was rich, she knew her money would not count for much against the
prospects of a brilliant career. The man had real ability and meant to
make his mark, and in this she was anxious to assist him. She was even
willing to defer their marriage until he had had an opportunity of
displaying his talents in the administration of the West African
territory he had lately returned to, and her object was to secure his
appointment to the post left vacant by the retirement of his superior.
During the evening she sat with Lieutenant Walters in the conservatory.
There were other guests at Hazlehurst, and Mrs. Foster had asked some
of her neighbours to join them in an informal dance. Coloured lamps
hung among the plants, throwing a soft light upon clustering blossoms
and forcing up delicate foliage in black silhouette. Here and there
lay belts of shadow, out of which came voices and a smell of cigar
smoke; but near where Mrs. Chudleigh sat screened by a palm a French
window opened into the hall. The half-light that fell sideways upon
her face suited her, for it failed to reveal the hardness of her lips
and eyes, and made her look gentler. Walters, who was charmed with
her, had no suspicion that she had cultivated his society merely
because she thought he might prove useful. On hearing what regiment he
belonged to, she had marked him down for study.
"I'm afraid I'm selfish in keeping you here, though I know how
good-natured you are," he said by and by. "You might have been
enjoying yourself instead of letting me bore you."
Mrs. Chudleigh gave him a gracious smile. "I've lost my enthusiasm for
dancing and need a rest now and then. Besides, I like a talk with
interesting people."
"That's a thing I'm seldom credited with being. You're making fun of
me."
"Far from it," she assured him. "If you are very modest, I'll confess
that your knowing places and people I've seen in past days enhances the
interest. Were you long in India?"
"Three years. In some respects, I was sorry to leave, but the doctors
decided it would be twelve months before I was fit for work again, and
I felt very much at a loose end when I got home. I can't dance, I
can't ride, and I mustn't walk far; in fact, there seems to be nothing
that I am allowed to do. I'd have found my helplessness harder only
that you have taken pity on me."
"But you are getting stronger; I've noticed a marked improvement, since
I came. But we were speaking of India. You were on the North-West
frontier, were you not?"
"Yes," he said and looked round as a man passed the window. "Who's
that? I've seen most of Lucy's neighbours, but I don't know him."
The man moved into the light and stood gazing towards them
absent-mindedly, as if thinking of something. Walters noticed his
white hair and thin face, the keenness of his blue eyes, the firmness
of his mouth, and the erectness of his figure.
"That is Colonel Challoner," Mrs. Chudleigh replied.
"Ah!" said Walters; "I thought I recognized the stamp. Foster told me
he lived a few miles off, but I'll have to move on if he comes in here."
"Why?" Mrs. Chudleigh asked in well-simulated surprise, though she saw
the opportunity she had been waiting for was now offered her.
"I knew his son and nephew; served with them in India for a time,"
Walters answered with some embarrassment. "That's why Foster warned me
to keep out of Challoner's way. He seemed to think it would be
considerate."
Challoner passed on, and Mrs. Chudleigh fixed her eyes on Walters. "I
see. You must have taken part in a certain unfortunate affair on the
frontier in which the hill men get the best of it."
The blood crept into Walters' face, but he answered simply: "I did. It
is not a subject one talks about."
"That's natural; one can understand the feelings of the mess, but the
thing isn't quite a secret, and I daresay you break through your
reserve now and then. Surely you don't refuse your confidence to your
friends?"
Her manner was reproachful, as though she felt hurt because he could
not trust her, and he looked confused.
"I couldn't doubt that anything I said would be safe with you, but it's
a painful subject. Besides, you obviously know something about the
matter."
"I do, but not much. I knew Bertram Challoner and have met Richard
Blake. Then at one time I heard a good deal about the frontier and
that makes me curious." She paused, and gave him a look he could not
resist. "I want to know what really happened; won't you tell me? You
can rely upon my treating it in the strictest confidence."
Walters felt reluctant, but he was grateful to her, and flattered by
her preference. She was a handsome woman and much sought after, but
she had often devoted an hour to enlivening his forced idleness when
there were more exciting occupations open to her.
"I couldn't refuse you anything after the way you have helped me
through a rather trying time," he declared. "When one has been pretty
active, it isn't easy to resign oneself to being laid upon the shelf,
and you cheered me up when I most needed it. Well, I was with the
expedition and we had shelled an old hill fort to bits and laid a heavy
fire on two or three villages, with the object of keeping their
inhabitants quiet, but it hadn't that effect. All their friends came
down to help in cutting us off as we went home and I'm still surprised
that they didn't succeed. They sniped our camp every night and had a
number of brushes with the rearguard as we hurried back through the
hills; but it wasn't until we were nearly clear that things got badly
threatening and we had to make a stand. I believe the idea was that we
must hold our ground until help arrived. But am I boring you?"
"Oh! no," said Mrs. Chudleigh. "Please don't stop."
"Well, we were awkwardly placed in the bottom of a pass, but there was
a small steep hill that strengthened our position and Blake made the
trenches. He did it well, in the daylight, because there was no time
to lose, with marksmen we couldn't see firing at him from among the
rocks. I must say that although they made very good shooting and got
several of his men he never flinched."
"He was not a nervous man, was he?"
"One wouldn't have imagined so after seeing him coolly doing his work
with the bullets flattening on the stones all round; but I'll confess I
could never understand what happened afterwards. The orders were that
the hill must be held at any cost, but as our line was long we couldn't
send up many men. Blake stayed with his few sappers, we had a gun from
the mule battery, and there was Challoner, myself, and two more
officers with a handful of native infantry. It was about two in the
morning when the fellows made their rush, a band of Ghazees leading it,
and I'll own that we were all a little overstrung. Forced marches on
half rations and lying awake night after night expecting an attack are
wearing. For all that, it was a strong position, and though there were
not many of them we felt we could trust the men. The hill was hard to
climb except by a ravine the gun did not command and Blake had laid a
mine there. Challoner held the ridge immediately above."
"What is your opinion of Bertram Challoner? Is he a good officer?"
"One of the best. He's what you could call conscientious; took his
duties seriously and knew more about the scientific side of his
business than any of us. In a way, that was curious, because I imagine
that he hadn't much natural aptitude for soldiering and while he was
cool in action one felt he had to work himself up to it. Nobody
doubted his pluck, but I've seen him looking rather white after a hot
brush."
"A nervous temperament, held well in hand," Mrs. Chudleigh suggested.
"But go on; I'm sorry I interrupted you."
"There was a challenge, a yell from the stabbed sentry, and the beggars
were upon us. No time to think; the face of the hill swarmed with
them. The gunners only fired one round before they were cut down, and
the mine did not explode. It was a thick, dark night, and we were
horribly outnumbered, but the orders were to hold on--we could send for
support if very hard pressed, but we mustn't yield a yard of ground.
It was hot work in front of the trench upon the ridge--they poured into
it at one end, but for a time we stayed as well. Then----"
Walters broke off and looked at his companion with appeal. "I've been
talking too freely; said more than I should have done, in fact. You
had better admit that you don't find all this interesting."
"It wouldn't be true," Mrs. Chudleigh declared, determined not to be
put off. "I'm extremely interested, and you must keep your promise.
Tell me all you can."
He made a gesture of resignation. "Well, there was an order given--in
a white man's voice--and the bugle called us off. Somebody had
ventured to disobey instructions, and after that the fight was over; we
got away as best we could. They rolled over us like a wave as we went
downhill and there were not many of us when we reached the bottom.
Then some Gurkhas came up and held them a bit with the steel, a gun
opened, and somehow the main camp was saved, though our ranks were thin
at the next muster."
"There was an inquiry, of course. Did you give evidence?"
"I had to," said Walters ruefully. "I confined my answers as much as
possible to 'Yes, sir,' and 'No,' but one can make a good deal out of
these if the questions are judiciously framed. The bugler was killed,
so they could learn nothing from him, but Watson was forced to declare
that the order came from near the ravine where Blake should have fired
the mine. After some badgering from the Colonel I had to admit that
that was my opinion. There were other points against Blake and he did
not try to clear himself. It was a very bad business, and I remember
that Challoner broke down after his examination."
"But Blake was not cashiered."
"No; to tell the truth, I think some influence was at work. Colonel
Challoner was known and respected on the frontier and he had powerful
friends, though, of course, that sort of thing is not supposed to
count. Anyhow, the official verdict was, 'Not guilty,' but nobody had
much confidence in it and Blake had to leave us. In spite of
everything, I was sorry for the man and felt that he might have made
things look better if he had tried."
"It was very sad," said Mrs. Chudleigh. "You have my thanks for the
story. I can understand that it was painful to tell."
Then she changed the subject and soon afterwards a man came in and
claimed her for a dance.