Averil rode back to her brother-in-law's bungalow, vexed with herself,
weary at heart, troubled. She had arrived at the station among the
mountains on the Frontier two months before, and had spent a very happy
time there with the sister whom she had not seen for years. The ladies
of the station numbered a very scanty minority, but there was no lack of
gaiety and merriment on that account.
That the hills beyond the Great Frontier were peopled by tribes in a
seething state of discontent was a matter known, but little recked of,
by the majority of the community. Officers went their several ways,
fully awake to threatening rumours, but counting them of small
importance. They went to their sport; to their polo, their racing,
their gymkhanas, with light hearts and in perfect security. They lay
down in the dread shadow of a mighty Empire and slept secure in the very
jaws of danger.
The fierce and fanatical hatred that raged over the Frontier was less
than nothing to most of them. The power that sheltered them was wholly
sufficient for their confidence.
The toughness of the good northern breed is of a quality untearable,
made to endure in all climates, under all conditions. Ordered to carry
revolvers, they stuffed them unloaded into side-pockets, or left them in
the hands of _syces_ to bear behind them.
Proof positive of their total failure to realize the danger that
threatened from amidst the frowning, grey-cragged mountains was the fact
that their womenkind were allowed to remain at the station, and even
rode and drove forth unattended on the rocky, mountain roads.
True, they were warned against crossing the Frontier. A few officers, of
whom Captain Raymond, who was Averil's brother-in-law, and Toby Carey,
the innocent-faced subaltern, were two, saw the rising wave from afar;
but they saw it vaguely as inevitable but not imminent. Captain Raymond
planned to himself to send his wife and her sister to Simla before the
monsoon broke up the fine weather.
And this was all he accomplished beyond administering a severe reprimand
to his young sister-in-law for running into danger among the hills.
"There are always thieves waiting to bag anyone foolish enough to show
his nose over the border," he said. "Isn't the Indian Empire large
enough for you that you must needs go trespassing among savages?"
Averil heard him out with the patience of a slightly wandering
attention. She had not recounted the whole of her experience for his
benefit, nor did she intend to do so. She was still wondering what the
mysterious message she had delivered to Toby Carey might be held to
mean.
When Captain Raymond had exhausted himself she went away to her own room
and sat for a long while gazing towards the great mountains, thinking,
thinking.
Her sister presently joined her. Mrs. Raymond was a dark-eyed,
merry-hearted little woman, the gay originator of many a frolic, and an
immense favourite with men and women alike.
"Poor darling! I declare Harry has made you look quite miserable!" was
her exclamation, as she ran lightly in and seated herself on the arm of
Averil's chair.
"Harry!" echoed Averil, in a tone of such genuine scorn that Mrs.
Raymond laughed aloud.
"You're very rude," she said. "Still, I'm glad Harry isn't the offender.
Who is it, I wonder? But, never mind! I have a splendid piece of news
for you, dear. Shut your eyes and guess!"
"Oh, I can't indeed!" protested Averil. "I am much too tired."
Mrs. Raymond looked at her with laughing eyes.
"There! She shan't be teased!" she cried gaily. "It's the loveliest
surprise you ever had, darling; but I can't keep it a secret any longer.
I wanted to see him now that he is grown up, and quite satisfy myself
that he is really good enough for you. So, dear, I wrote to him and
begged him to join us here. And the result is--now guess!"
Averil had turned sharply to look at her.
"Do you mean you have asked Dick to come here?" she said, in a quick,
startled way.
"Exactly, dear; I actually have," said Mrs. Raymond. "More--we had a
wire this morning. He will be here to dinner."
"Oh!" said Averil. She rose hastily, so hastily that her sister was left
sitting on the arm of the bamboo chair, which instantly overturned on
the top of her.
Averil extricated her with many laughing apologies, and, by the time
Mrs. Raymond had recovered her equilibrium, the younger girl had lost
her expression of astonishment and was looking as bright and eager as
her sister could desire.
"Only Dick is such a madcap," she said. "How shall we keep him from
getting up to mischief in No Man's Land precisely as I have done?"
Mrs. Raymond opined that Averil ought by then to have discovered the
secret of managing the young man, and they went to _tiffin_ on the
veranda in excellent spirits.
Dr. Seddon was there and young Steele, one of Raymond's subalterns.
Averil found herself next to the doctor, who, rather to her surprise,
forebore to twit her with her early morning adventure. He was, in fact,
very grave, and she wondered why.
Steele, strolling by her side in the shady compound, by and bye
volunteered information.
"Poor old Seddon is in a mortal funk," he said, "which accounts for his
wretched appetite. He has been wasting steadily ever since Carlyon went
away. He thinks Carlyon is the only fellow capable of taking care of
him. No one else is monster enough."
"Is Colonel Carlyon expected out here?" Averil asked, in a casual tone.
One of Steele's eyelids contracted a little as if it wanted to wink. He
answered her in a low voice: "Carlyon is never expected before his
arrival, Miss Eversley."
"No?" said Averil indifferently. "And, why, please do you call him a
monster?"
Steele laughed a little. "Didn't you know?" he said. "Why, he is the
King of Evil in these parts!"
Averil felt her face slowly flushing. "I don't understand," she said.
"Don't you?" said Steele. "Honestly now?"
The flush heightened. "Of course I don't," she said. "Otherwise why
should I tell you so?"
"Pardon!" said Steele, unabashed. "Well, then, you must know that we are
all frightened of Carlyon of the Frontier. We hate him badly, but he has
the whip-hand of us, and so we have to do the tame trot for him. Over
there"--he jerked his head towards the mountains--"they would lie down
in a row miles long and let him walk over their necks. And not a single
blackguard among them would dare to stab upwards, because Carlyon is
immortal, as everyone knows, and it wouldn't be worth the blackguard's
while to survive the deed.
"They don't call him Carlyon in the mountains, but it's the same man,
for all that. He is a prophet, a deity, among them. They believe in him
blindly as a special messenger from Heaven. And he plays with them,
barters them, betrays them, every single day he spends among them. He is
strong, he is unscrupulous, he is merciless. He respects no friendship.
He keeps no oath. He betrays, he tortures, he slays. Even we, the
enlightened race, shrink from him as if he were the very fiend
incarnate.
"But he is a valuable man. The information he obtains is priceless. But
he trades with blood. He lives on treachery. He is more subtle than the
subtlest Pathan. He would betray any one or all of us to death if it
were to the interest of the Empire that we should be sacrified. That,
you know, in reason, is all very well. But, personally, I would sooner
tread barefoot on a scorpion than get entangled in Carlyon's web. He is
more false and more cruel than a serpent. At least, that is his
reputation among us. And those heathen beggars trust him so utterly."
Steele stopped abruptly. He had spoken with strong passion. His honest
face was glowing with indignation. He was British to the backbone, and
he loathed all treachery instinctively.
Suddenly he saw that the girl beside him had turned very white. He
paused in his walk with an awkward sense of having spoken unadvisedly.
"Of course," he said, with a boyish effort to recover his ground, "it
has to be done. Someone must do the dirty work. But that doesn't make
you like the man who does it a bit the better. One wouldn't brush
shoulders with the hangman if one knew it."
Averil was standing still. Her hands were clenched.
"Are you talking of Colonel Carlyon--my friend?" she said slowly.
Steele turned sharply away from the wide gaze of her grey eyes.
"I hope not, Miss Eversley," he said. "The man I mean is not fit to be
the friend of any woman."