CHALLONER'S DECISION
The morning was mild and Challoner paced slowly up and down his
shrubbery. Bright sunshine fell upon him, the massed evergreens cut
off the wind, and in a sheltered border spear-like green points were
pushing through the soil in promise of the spring. Challoner knew them
all, the veined crocus blades, the tight-closed heads of the hyacinths,
and the twin shoots of the daffodils, but, fond as he was of his
garden, he gave them scanty attention, and by and by sat down in a
sheltered nook lost in painful thought. He had a careworn look and had
left the house in a restless mood with a wish to be alone in the open
air.
Mrs. Chudleigh's revelation had been a shock. With his sense of duty
and family pride, he had, when the news of the frontier disaster first
reached him, found it almost impossible to believe that his nephew had
been guilty of shameful cowardice; and now it looked as if the disgrace
might be brought still closer home. Bertram would presently take his
place and, retiring from active service, rule the estate in accordance
with Challoner traditions and perhaps exert some influence in politics;
he remembered that Mrs. Chudleigh had laid some stress on this. She
had, however, told him that Bertram, from whom so much was expected,
had shown himself a poltroon and, what was even worse, had allowed an
innocent man to suffer for his baseness. Challoner had spent the last
few days pondering the evidence she had offered him and had seen one or
two weak points in it. By making the most of these, it might, perhaps,
be rebutted, but his honesty rendered such a course out of the question
if she were right in her conclusions, and he was forced to admit that
this was possible. Bertram had shown timidity in his younger
days--Challoner remembered that they had had some trouble in teaching
him to ride--and there was no doubt that his was a highly-strung and
nervous temperament. He had not the calm which marked the Challoners
in time of strain. Then Dick Blake was recklessly generous and loved
his cousin; it would be consistent with his character if he were
willing to suffer in Bertram's stead. Moreover there were reasons
which might have had some effect in inducing Bertram to consent,
because Challoner knew the affection his son bore him and that he would
shrink from involving him in his disgrace. What Bertram would
certainly not have done to secure his own escape he might have done for
the sake of his father and the girl he was to marry.
Admitting all this, Challoner could not take his son's guilt for
granted. There was room for doubt, and soon after leaving Mrs.
Chudleigh he had cabled a friend in Montreal asking him to spare no
effort to trace Blake. If the latter could be found, he must be
summoned home and forced to declare the truth. By and by Challoner
heard a footstep and looking up saw Foster approaching. He stopped and
regarded the Colonel with surprise, for it was seldom Challoner was to
be seen sitting moodily idle.
"I'm taking a short cut through your grounds to the fir spinney," he
said. "As I was leaving home Mrs. Chudleigh asked me to give you this
note, and when I looked in at the house Miss Challoner said she didn't
know where you were and a telegram had just come in. Thinking I might
find you, I brought it along." Handing the other two envelopes he
added: "Sorry to see you're not looking as brisk as usual."
"There's not much the matter," Challoner replied, forcing a smile.
"Still, I do feel a trifle slack, and I've had something to worry me."
Foster gave him a sympathetic nod. "Worry's bad; make a rule to avoid
it when I can. But will you walk as far as the wood?"
He went on when Challoner said he would sooner remain, and the latter
eagerly opened the telegram. It was in answer to his cable and read--
"Blake and two others left Sweetwater settlement. Destination supposed
far North."
This implied the impossibility of learning anything from his nephew for
some time, and Challoner could not recall his son, who was then in
Japan and must shortly rejoin his Indian regiment. Besides, if Bertram
were blameless, it would be a cruel blow for him to find that his
father had suspected him of a shameful deed, while if he were guilty,
something must be done. This would probably lead to a disastrous
change in their relations and compel Bertram to leave the army. Though
the suspense was hard to bear, Challoner, as Mrs. Chudleigh had
foreseen, was beginning to feel afraid to learn the truth and inclined
to temporize.
Then he opened her note and read--
"As I hear you expect Mr. Greythorpe, shortly, I venture to believe
that now you have had time for reflection you will see that it would be
better for everybody if you did as I suggested. This would be a great
favour and you could count upon my gratitude and discretion."
Studying it carefully, Challoner saw a threat as well as a promise that
she would keep his secret if he complied, but he tore the note up and
trod the fragments into the soil. So far as the African appointment
was concerned, he was not to be influenced. He would not offer a bribe
for her silence, nor would he derive a personal advantage from a piece
of jobbery. On that point his mind was made up.
A little later Mrs. Keith opened a neighbouring gate and came towards
him.
"The fine morning tempted me out, and as Lucy Foster was passing with
the car, I thought I'd look your sister up," she said. "But I'm afraid
you're in trouble. The last time we met you had a downcast air and you
don't look much brighter to-day."
"It's unpleasant to think I'm in the habit of showing my feelings so
plainly," he answered.
"You don't, but your moody calm has its meaning. I've known you long
enough to recognize it. You can't deny that something is disturbing
you."
"No," said Challoner. "I'm not clever enough to hide it from your keen
eyes."
"They're very friendly, as you know. I'll strain a friend's privilege
far enough to guess that your perplexities began the last time you and
Mrs. Chudleigh met."
He wondered how much she knew and longed to confide in her. She was
very staunch, but his secret must be kept until he had learned the
truth.
"I'm sorry, Margaret, but I can't tell you what is troubling me."
She made a sign of acquiescence. "You would if it were possible and I
won't press you, but you know I can be trusted if you need me. I was
afraid of that woman; I felt she threatened you."
Their glances met and lingered, and Challoner felt that the reason for
his grief was but thinly veiled from her. Still, for his son's sake,
he could not confirm her suspicions, and he broke into a dry smile.
"I believe you tried to protect me, and it certainly wasn't your fault
that you failed. I appreciate it, Margaret, but after all there may be
less cause for anxiety than I imagine, and we'll talk about something
else. Will you come up to the house?"
They walked slowly across the lawn, and though his companion chatted
about indifferent matters Challoner knew he had her sympathy. When
they reached the door she stopped.
"I needn't bring you in, because I have something to ask Hilda. No
doubt, it's unnecessary, but you won't mind my warning you not to be
influenced by anything that woman said."
"I had already decided to disregard it."
A look of gratified confidence came into her eyes. "That is what I
expected; you are not easily swayed, but I see signs of strain. There
is some crisis you must face, and I think it is connected with
Greythorpe's visit."
"You have guessed correctly."
"When one is in difficulties the easiest way out is not always the
best. But you know that."
"I have learned it. One has often to chose between the right and the
most prudent thing."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Keith, "I believe they are generally the same in the
end; that is, if one has the courage to choose the former."
Challoner bowed. "You have never failed me, Margaret, and you give me
good counsel now."
She went in, and he turned away, feeling encouraged; but a reaction
followed, and he spent the rest of the day in troubled thought. A day
or two later Greythorpe arrived and in the early evening sat with his
host in the library. Though dusk was closing in, a window near them
stood open and a single shaded candle burned upon a neighbouring table.
Presently Greythorpe opened some papers.
"We have not settled the African appointment yet," he said. "The
matter, of course, is not altogether in my hands, but my recommendation
will have weight, and I should be glad of your opinion before making
it. You will find the names and qualifications of the candidates here."
Challoner studied the papers, and then gazed out of the window without
speaking. It was not quite dark, and he could see the great oaks in
the park, and the sombre masses of the woods rolling back up the
valley. In the foreground, a sheet of water shone with a pale gleam.
It was a rich and beautiful countryside and much of it belonged to him.
Though his wife had brought him money, Sandymere had long been the
property of the Challoners, and the old house had a picturesque
stateliness, while every field and farmstead had been well cared for.
In process of time it would all be his son's, and, in that sense,
Bertram had more than an individual importance. He was one of a line
of men who had served their country well in court and field, and any
disgrace that fell upon him would taint a respected name and reflect
upon his children, for the family honour was indivisible, a thing that
stretched backwards to the past as well as forward. Now, however, it
was threatened by an unprincipled woman who claimed the power to drag
it in the mire; but Challoner recognized that he could not allow this
to influence him. His private affairs must not count where the
interests of his country were concerned.
"Well," he said at length, "the matter seems difficult to decide. You
have two men of excellent character, whom I know something about, and a
third who has shown ability in a subordinate post."
"Sedgwick? Your manner leads me to believe that you don't quite class
him with the others."
"There is a difference. The first two are honest and reliable but not
brilliant men. Sedgwick is obviously more capable than either, but I
suspect that self-interest is his strongest motive. I knew a major in
his regiment. He might use this appointment to force himself into
prominence."
"It's possible, but that needn't prove a great drawback."
"Is the Cabinet ready to embark upon a bold course of Colonial
expansion?"
"No," said Greythorpe with a smile, "not so far as I'm acquainted with
their views, but we would like the strip of unoccupied territory, and
Sedgwick seems alive to its importance."
"He'll probably get it for you if you give him a chance, but I imagine
he won't stop there. In fact, he may take you much farther than you
wish to go. Suppose he brings off some sensational coup in which you
would have to support him at the expense of France?"
"There might be some risk of that, but he's undoubtedly an able man."
"I think so," Challoner agreed. "It's his disinterestedness I suspect."
"Then if the post were at your disposal, you would not offer it to him?"
Challoner was silent for a few moments. It looked as if Greythorpe
were disposed to favour Sedgwick's claim and to concur might save a
good deal of trouble. Even then, it did not follow that Sedgwick would
be chosen, because there were higher authorities to be consulted.
Challoner thought he would not be blamed if they refused the man the
post, because he did Mrs. Chudleigh the justice to believe that she
would not doubt his assurance that he had done his best and that she
would afterwards put no further pressure on him. It was her lover's
promotion she wished to secure. For all that, easy as it would be to
humour her, he had been asked for his opinion by a man who trusted him,
and he must give it honestly.
"No," he said with a resolute air, "I should prefer either of the
others. On the whole, I believe I'd select the first on your list."
"You seem to have thought it well over."
"That's true. It's a rather grave matter," Challoner answered drily.
"Well," said Greythorpe, "my idea is that Sedgwick should be left in
charge a month or two longer. Then if we send out another man, we'll
try to find him something else."
He changed the subject and Challoner lighted a cigar and listened,
sitting back in the shadow where his companion could not see him. He
felt weary, because he had borne a heavy strain during the last few
days, and the course he had taken had cost him a good deal. Now he
knew that if Sedgwick were not appointed Mrs. Chudleigh would hold him
responsible.