THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE
As Muriel passed through the door Wargrave started to follow her; but
Violet cried peremptorily:
"Frank, stay here. Please realise that I come first now. Sit down."
He obeyed mechanically. She went on petulantly:
"These emotional scenes are rather exhausting. Do you mind calling the
hotel 'boy' and ordering a cocktail for me? You ought to have one
yourself. I suppose, like all men, you hate scenes. Then you should be
grateful to me for saving you from that spiteful little jungle cat."
Going to the verandah outside the room he called a hotel servant and
gave him the order, then returned to his chair and sat down wearily. He
stared at the floor in silence. He had sent the girl that he loved away
utterly humiliated; and he knew that, with her proud spirit, the shame
of his rejection of her would cut her to the heart. He cursed himself
for bringing this pain to her. It was all his fault. Not only had he had
no right to speak of love to her while he was bound to another woman,
but he ought never to have sought her society as he had done, never
striven to gain her friendship, for by doing so he had unconsciously won
her love. The harm was done long before he spoke to her of his feelings.
What a selfish brute he was to thus cause two women to suffer!
Presently he remembered that his moodiness, his silence, were
uncomplimentary, cruel, to Violet. She was right in saying that she came
first. Indeed she was the only one to be considered now. The other had
passed out of his life. It might be that they should meet again some day
in their restricted world, but while he could he must try to avoid her.
There was only Violet left.
He looked up to find his companion's eyes fixed on him with an
undefinable expression. He roused himself with an effort that was not
lost on the woman watching him.
"So you have told your husband," he said. "Well, now we must arrange
what we are going to do."
"We won't discuss our plans at this moment," replied Violet. "I'm not in
the mood for it." Then after a pause she added bitterly, "I must give
you time to recover from the shock of the abrupt ending to your little
jungle romance."
Before he could reply the servant appeared with a tray.
"Ah, thank goodness, here are the cocktails. There's only one. Aren't
you having one, too? It will do you good. No?"
She sipped her cocktail slowly. When she had finished it she got up
from her chair, saying:
"I'll get ready to go to the Amusement Club. Will you wait for me here?
You needn't change--we won't play tennis to-day; for we've got this
dinner and dance on to-night and I don't want to tire myself. I shan't
be long."
As she passed his chair she tapped his cheek and said:
"Don't look so miserable, my dear boy. You'll soon get over the loss of
your jungle girl. There, you may kiss my hand as a sign of your return
to your allegiance."
But when she entered her bedroom she did not at once proceed to get
ready to go out, but unlocked her dressing-case and, taking out of it a
letter, sat down to read it for the tenth time since she had received it
that morning. Yet it was short and concise. It was from Rosenthal and
addressed from the Mess of the 2nd (Duke's Own) Hussars in Bangalore;
for, as it told her, he had returned to his regiment as his leave had
expired. It was the first that had come from him since she had left
Poona, although, as he said in it, he had obtained her new address from
the Goanese clerk in the Munster Hotel office on the day of her flight,
thanks to the persuasive powers of a fifty-rupee note.
He told her that although her abrupt departure had puzzled him and he
could not understand why she had tried to conceal her whereabouts from
him, he wished her to realise that if it were an attempt to escape from
him it was useless. He could bide his time, for sooner or later he would
get her.
Violet smiled as she read his confident words, although they caused a
little shiver of fear to run through her. Then she rose, locked the
letter away and put on her hat.
Not until after lunch next day was Wargrave able to find time to go to
the Oriental Hotel, not to see Muriel, he sternly told himself, but to
pay a visit to Mrs. Dermot. When he was shown up to her sitting-room he
had to wait for some time before Noreen entered; and he was struck at
once by the coldness of her greeting. It was evident that she was very
displeased with him. She said no word about Muriel; and Wargrave felt
curiously averse to mentioning her name.
At last he summed up courage to ask her. With as near an approach to
frigidity of manner as she could show to a man to whom she was so
indebted Noreen replied:
"Muriel has left Darjeeling."
"Left Darjeeling? Where for? Where has she gone?" he exclaimed in
surprise.
"To her father."
"But why? She wasn't to have left for weeks yet," said Wargrave.
Mrs. Dermot looked at him angrily.
"Why? Need you ask? I should have thought commonsense would have told
you. I don't think we'll talk about it, please. As I said before, I've
washed my hands of the whole affair."
Further conversation on the subject was rendered impossible by the
irruption of her children, who rushed at Wargrave and reproached him for
not being to see them lately.
During the next few days Violet baffled every attempt that Frank made to
discuss their future course of action. The constant succession of
gaieties, the balls, theatricals, concerts, races, _gymkhanas_, that
filled every afternoon and evening of the Darjeeling Season, took up all
her time. Whenever he tried to talk matters over with her she invariably
replied that there was no hurry, even when he pointed out that Major
Norton might arrive any day in consequence of her letter. That he had
not already done so was inexplicable to Wargrave; and the subaltern
could only believe her assurance that her husband accepted her loss with
equanimity. It never occurred to Frank to doubt that she had written the
letter.
But one morning matters came to a crisis. When Violet and Wargrave
returned to the hotel from their ride before breakfast a telegram was
handed to the latter. He found it to be an official message from Colonel
Dermot, which ran:
"Please return forthwith to Ranga Duar. I start for Europe on sick
leave to-day."
Frank stared at it in surprise. He had heard nothing of his superior
officer being ill. It must be something very serious to necessitate his
being sent to Europe. The news was an unpleasant shock to him; for he
genuinely liked and respected the Political Officer.
Then it occurred to him that this order to return brought everything to
a head. Violet saw that he was perturbed.
"What is it, Frank?" she asked.
"I'll tell you upstairs, dear," he said.
In her sitting-room he handed her the telegram.
"I must leave to-day. Will you be ready to come with me?" he asked.
"What? To-day? My dear boy, it's impossible," she replied.
"But I must go. You see, it's imperative. The Colonel's already gone."
"Yes, I see you must. But--well, I simply couldn't be ready," said
Violet calmly. "Besides, I'm singing at the concert to-morrow night; and
there's the dance at Government House the night after. I must follow you
later."
"But that means your travelling alone," he argued. "Wouldn't it be much
pleasanter for you to come with me?"
"Don't worry about me for goodness' sake, Frank. I'm not a helpless
person. I came across India by myself to get here; and surely I'll be
able to manage to do a twenty-four hours' journey alone."
"Very well, dear," he replied with an inward, unacknowledged feeling of
relief that the decisive step had not to be taken yet. "I'll come down
from Ranga Duar with an elephant to meet you at the railway station when
you arrive. Now, while you're changing for breakfast, I'll rush round to
the Oriental and see if Mrs. Dermot has more news."
When he reached the hotel he found Noreen busily packing. She was pale
and evidently deeply distressed, although outwardly calm and collected.
"You have heard?" she asked, as he entered her sitting-room.
"Only that your husband is starting for England on sick leave and that
I'm to return at once. What's the matter? I hope it's not serious."
"Mr. Macdonald wires that Kevin must go at once to England for an
operation. He says I'm not to worry, as there is no immediate danger.
But of course I can't help being alarmed. It's all so sudden. I didn't
know that Kevin was ill. Mr. Macdonald is travelling with him to the
junction on the main line where the children and I are to meet them.
Isn't it kind of him? I'm so glad to know my husband will have someone
with him until I come."
"We'll meet at the railway station after lunch, then," said Wargrave.
"We'll be together as far as the junction."
Mrs. Dermot hesitated.
"Are you travelling alone?" she asked.
Frank flushed as he replied:
"Yes. She--Violet is to follow later."
Noreen made no comment; and having learned all that he could he returned
to his hotel.
He dreaded the ordeal of the parting with Mrs. Norton, but when the time
came for it he found his fear of a distressing scene quite uncalled for.
She said goodbye to him in a pleasantly friendly, though somewhat
casual, manner, and did not offer to accompany him to the station as she
had a previous engagement. And long before the little train had
zig-zagged down the seven thousand feet to the foot of the Himalayas she
had dismissed him from her mind.
The truth was that the gay and admired Mrs. Norton, caught up in the
whirlwind of social amusement in a lively hill-station, was not the
woman who passed weary days of _ennui_ in the company of a dull and
unattractive husband in a small, dead-and-alive station. Nor was the
dejected man who so plainly showed that he was pining for someone else
the good-looking, heart-whole subaltern who had fascinated her in the
boredom of existence in Rohar. Was he worth incurring social damnation
for? Would his companionship--for she knew that she had not his
love--make up for a life of loneliness, debt and poverty in a frontier
outpost? If she were resolved on giving up her present assured
position--and Violet felt that existence with Norton would be more than
ever unendurable after the exciting pleasures of Poona and
Darjeeling--would it not be wiser to do so for someone who could amply
compensate her for the sacrifice? Love in a cottage--or its Indian
equivalent, a subaltern's comfortless bungalow--did not appeal to her.
Her statement that she had written to tell her husband that she was
leaving for Wargrave was false. It had served the purpose for which it
was made, and that was the defeat of her rival. So now, content with her
victory, she put all burdensome thought from her and dined, danced and
flirted to her heart's content in the gaieties of the Darjeeling Season.
When Wargrave reached Ranga Duar the little outpost seemed strangely
forlorn without the Dermots and their children. Major Hunt and Macdonald
welcomed him warmly. The latter informed him that he had insisted on the
Colonel going to England for his operation because the Political Officer
had not been out of India for seven years and needed the change, and
besides he would receive more care and attention in a London
nursing-home than in an Indian hospital. The trouble was intestinal but
there was no immediate danger to his life.
Another familiar figure was missing. Before departing Dermot had
released Badshah and left him to wander in freedom in the jungle,
unwilling that his faithful companion of years should be servant to
anyone else and confident that the elephant would come back to him when
he returned to the Terai. Major Hunt placed one of the detachment
elephants at Wargrave's disposal whenever he required it to take him on
his tours along the frontier. And Frank needed it constantly. For, as
soon as the news of Colonel Dermot's departure spread, the lawless
spirits that for fear of him had not ventured for five years to disturb
the peace of the Border, began to show signs of restlessness. The
Political Officer's strong personality and the reputation of divinity
that he enjoyed had kept them in check. But now that he was gone they
thought that they could defy with impunity the young sahib who replaced
him.
So the Assistant had not long to wait for an opportunity to show his
mettle. Dermot had not been gone a fortnight before one or two raids
were attempted on British villages by lawless mountaineers from across
the Bhutan frontier. Wargrave soon proved that the mantle of Colonel
Dermot had not fallen on unworthy shoulders. Single-handed he
intercepted and faced a party of Bhutanese swordsmen swooping down from
the hills on a tea-garden in search of loot, shot the leader and two of
his followers and put the rest to flight. With a handful of sepoys of
the Military Police he surprised a Bhuttia village in the No Man's Land
along the border-line and captured a notorious outlaw who had plundered
in Indian territory and had sent him a defiant challenge.
Wargrave was glad of the excitement and the occupation, for they kept
him from brooding over his troubles and worrying about the future. He
had not time to puzzle over Violet's silence. She had not written to him
since their parting. As a matter of fact she seldom thought of him, so
engrossed was she in the pursuit of pleasure. Admittedly the prettiest
woman in Darjeeling that season she received enough attention and
admiration to turn any woman's head; and she enjoyed it all to the full.
Although she had answered Rosenthal's letter from Bangalore he had not
written again; but she felt that he was not forgetting her. She thought
oftener of him than of Wargrave; for the vision of the great riches that
she might one day share with him fascinated her. It haunted her dreams
sleeping and waking. Often she let her fancy stray to the existence that
he had promised would be hers when he was the possessor of his father's
fortune, a life of luxury in the gayest cities of the world with all
that immense wealth could bestow, a life infinitely better worth living
than her present one. Would she ever be given the chance of it?
The question was speedily and unexpectedly answered. One morning after
breakfast she received a telegram from Rosenthal. It said:
"My father is dead. I sail from Bombay for South Africa on Friday to
settle up his affairs. Will you come?"
She stared at the paper almost uncomprehendingly for a few moments. Then
the meaning of the message dawned on her. She sat down at her
writing-table and thought hard. She had little time in which to make up
her mind; for if she wished to reach Bombay before Rosenthal sailed she
would have to leave Darjeeling that afternoon. What should she do?
Should she go? She found a pencil and a telegraph form and addressed the
latter to the Hussar. Then she hesitated. But she was not long in coming
to a decision. With a firm hand she wrote the one word "Yes" and signed
her name. Then she rose from the table, called a hotel servant,
despatched the telegram and went to her bedroom to pack. And the same
train that took her away from Darjeeling carried a letter from her to
Wargrave.
But the subaltern did not receive it until more than a week afterwards,
when he returned to Ranga Duar with Tashi after chasing back across the
Border a mongrel pack of _dácoits_--brigands--who had been harrying
Bhuttia villages in British territory. The letter lay on the table in
the room which he still occupied in the Mess, although he was no longer
an officer of the detachment, together with a pile of correspondence
that had accumulated during his absence. Recognising Violet's writing on
the envelope he tore it open anxiously. He rapidly scanned the first
page, stared at it incredulously, read it again carefully and then
finished the letter. It ran:
"My dear Frank,
"I am going to relieve your mind of a great weight and send you into
the seventh heaven of delight by giving you the glad news that you
are never likely to see me again. Before the week is ended I shall
have left India for ever with someone who can give me all I want and
not condemn me to a poverty-stricken existence in a wretched little
jungle station, which is all that you had to offer me. I know it was
not your fault and you are really a dear boy. I was very fond of
you; but you did not love me and we would have been very miserable
together. For you would be always pining for your jungle girl and I
would have hated you for it. Now we part good friends and she is
welcome to you. I ought to tell you that I did not really write to
my husband as I said I did.
"I wish you luck--won't you wish me the same?
"Yours affectionately,
"VIOLET."
When he had thoroughly grasped the meaning of this extraordinary letter
he forgave her everything in the joy of knowing that she had set him
free. He did not speculate as to the man with whom she was going; his
thoughts flew at once to Muriel. But his delight was tempered by the
fear that his liberty had come too late to be of service to him with
her. Would she ever forgive him? His heart sank when he remembered her
indignation, her bitter words when they parted. Surely no woman who had
been so humiliated could pardon the man who had brought such shame upon
her. Yet how could he have acted otherwise? It was natural that the girl
should blame him; but how could he have been false to his plighted word
and desert the one who held his promise? If only he could see Muriel and
plead with her. Perhaps in time she might bring herself to forgive him.
But how was he to meet her? Now that Mrs. Dermot had gone to England,
the girl would not come again to Ranga Duar. She was, he knew,
accompanying her father in his tour of the forests of the districts in
his charge. How could he go to their camp or lonely bungalow in the
jungle and force his presence on her? What was he to do?
Longing for someone to confide in, someone to advise him, he went to
Major Hunt and told him the whole story. The older man rejoiced in
learning of the subaltern's release from his entanglement, but, knowing
Miss Benson well, shook his head doubtfully over the chances of her
forgiving Wargrave. Nevertheless, unwilling to kill the young man's
hope, he affected a confidence that he was far from feeling and bade him
take courage. He advised him to arrange a few days' shooting in the
neighbourhood of the Bensons when he could spare the time from his
duties. The father would be sure to offer him hospitality and the
daughter could not well avoid him. In the meantime he might write and
plead his cause on paper.
Wargrave sat up half the night composing a letter to Muriel. Sheet after
sheet was torn up in disgust before he was even tolerably satisfied. But
the laboured result was never sent. Next morning after breakfast as he
sat smoking in the Mess with Major Hunt and the doctor his servant
entered to tell him that a forest guard wanted to see him. A wild hope
flashed through his mind that perhaps Muriel had sent him a message. But
on going out to the back verandah where the man awaited him he was
handed an envelope "On His Majesty's Service," addressed in a strange
handwriting. He opened it and glanced carelessly at the letter, but the
first lines riveted his attention.
"Forest Officer's Bungalow,
Barwana Section.
"From
the District Superintendent of Police,
Bengal Civil Police.
"To
the Assistant Political Officer,
Ranga Duar.
"Sir,
"Three days ago a party of Chinamen attacked and severely injured the
Deputy Conservator of Forests, Mr. Benson, in this bungalow, and
abducted his daughter. They were ten or twelve in number and well
armed, and over-awed the servants and forest employees. They have
been tracked towards the Bhutan Frontier and, I fear, have crossed
it by this. There was, unfortunately, much delay in the information
reaching me while I was touring the district south of the forest;
and I have only just arrived here. I hasten to acquaint you with the
occurrence as I am powerless if the ruffians have crossed into
Bhutan. Please request the Officer Commanding Military Police
Detachment to send out parties to try to cut off the raiders from
the passes through the mountains, although I fear it is too late.
Can you meet me here and confer with me? Please bring the Medical
Officer of the detachment with you, as Mr. Benson is in a bad state
and no civil surgeon is available for a great distance from here.
"Your obedient servant,
Edward Lawrence.
D.S.P."
Horror-stricken, Wargrave questioned the forest guard. The man had not
been at the bungalow at the time of the outrage and could not greatly
supplement the information contained in the letter. The story that he
had learned from the servants was to the effect that a party of Chinamen
had arrived at Mr. Benson's bungalow and asked for employment as
carpenters. There was nothing unusual in this, as Chinese from the
Southern Provinces frequently make their way on foot through Tibet and
Bhutan over the mountains in search of work on the tea-gardens or in
Calcutta. Apparently they had suddenly struck the old man down and
surprised Miss Benson before she could offer any resistance. Producing
fire-arms they had terrified the servants. They had a mule hidden in the
jungle and on this the girl was placed and led off. Long after they had
disappeared some of the forest guards had timidly followed their track
for some distance and found that it led towards the Bhutan Frontier.
When Wargrave had extracted from the man all the information that he
could he rushed into the Mess and acquainted the two officers in it with
the terrible news. Like him they were horrified at the outrage. Major
Hunt went at once to the Fort to order out parties of the detachment in
accordance with the District Superintendent's request; and Macdonald got
ready to proceed to the Forest Officer's bungalow forty miles away.
The Assistant Political Officer despatched a cipher telegram to the
Foreign Department, Government of India, at Simla, informing them of the
occurrence and of his intention to investigate the affair personally,
and, if possible, rescue Miss Benson. He knew that the Heads of the
Department, although they would not sanction or approve officially of
his crossing the frontier in pursuit of the raiders, as it would be
contrary to the Treaty with the Bhutanese Government, would not enquire
too closely into his movements. But whether they liked it or not he
intended to follow the abductors if necessary into the heart of Bhutan,
Treaty or no Treaty.
His first step was to send for Tashi and order him to prepare the
disguise that he intended to use. His rifle he left behind, but armed
himself with a brace of long-barrelled automatic pistols to which their
wooden holsters clipped on to form butts, thus converting them into
carbines accurate up to a range of a hundred and fifty or two hundred
yards. He found a third for Tashi in Colonel Dermot's armoury, which was
at his disposal.
Night had fallen long before the detachment elephant that bore Wargrave,
Macdonald, Tashi and the forest guard as well as its own _mahout_,
reached the bungalow where the District Superintendent of Police awaited
them. The doctor found Benson suffering from a wound in the head, with
concussion and fever. Frank interrogated the servants carefully and
elicited from them one fresh fact about the outrage that shed a flood of
light on its motive and its author. It was that the leader of the party
was pock-marked and blind in the right eye; and this at once confirmed
Frank's suspicion that the instigator of Muriel's abduction was the
Chinese _Amban_, whose parting threat to the girl had thus materialised.
At daybreak Wargrave and Tashi started on foot accompanied by a forest
guard to put them on the track of the gang. This led up towards the
Bhutan Frontier, which runs among the hills at an average elevation of
six thousand feet above the sea. As the Assistant Political Officer
anticipated, the party had headed for the portion of the border under
the control of the _Amban's_ friend, the Penlop of Tuna. Enquiries among
the inhabitants of the mountain villages resulted in several of them
coming forward with the information that they had seen a small body of
armed Chinese escorting a cloaked and shrouded figure on a mule and
climbing up towards Bhutan. Two of the Government Secret Service agents
among these Bhuttias had followed them cautiously to the frontier and
seen them received there by a party of the Tuna Penlop's armed
retainers. These men reported that the watch on all the passes into
Bhutan was stricter than ever, and, as one of them phrased it, not even
a rat could creep through unobserved.
This discouraging intelligence was a further proof of _Amban's_ guilt.
But Frank realised that it would not be sufficient to justify the
Government of India claiming redress from the Republic of China; and,
indeed, diplomatic procedure was much too slow to be of any use in the
rescue of the girl. An appeal to the Maharajah of Bhutan would be
equally fruitless; for his powerful vassal the Tuna Penlop was
practically in rebellion against him and defied his authority. The sole
hope of saving Muriel lay in Wargrave's prompt action.
Yet try as the subaltern would, he and Tashi were unable at any point to
pierce the cordon of guards along the frontier. Generally they got away
unseen; but on one occasion they were discovered and had to flee back
into British territory under a shower of arrows. Fortunately fire-arms
are scarce in Bhutan; and the Tuna Penlop's soldiers possessed only
bows.
It was imperative that Wargrave and his follower should be circumspect
in their movements, and by day they hid in caves or in the jungle
clothing the slopes of the higher hills, to escape observation by
Bhutanese spies. When they had exhausted the food that they had brought
with them and failed to procure any more from their Secret Service
agents in the villages, Tashi gathered bananas, dug up edible tubers
like the _charpattia_ or _charlong_, and snared jungle-fowl and Monal
pheasants. Having obtained a bow and a sheaf of arrows from a village he
sometimes succeeded in killing a _gooral_, the active little wild goat
found in the lower hills, the flesh of which is excellent.
As day after day went by and found them no nearer success in crossing
the frontier Wargrave began to lose heart. He was harassed by anxiety
over Muriel's fate and feared that he would never be able to rescue her.
At times he grew desperate and but for his companion's remonstrances
would have tried to fight his way through the border guards, although in
his saner moments he knew that it would be sheer madness.
Besides danger from human enemies the two men were menaced by peril from
wild beasts as well. Panthers prowled among the hills, great Himalayan
bears, a blow from the paw of one of which would crack a man's skull,
wandered on the jungle-clad slopes and, though not carnivorous, were
always ready to attack human beings. Herds of wild elephants, which had
scaled the mountains into Bhutan at the beginning of the Monsoon to
reach the northern face of the Himalayas and escape the heavy rains that
deluge the southern slopes and also to avoid the insects that plague
them in the jungle at that season, were commencing to return to the
Terai. Often Wargrave and Tashi had to climb trees to let a herd go by;
and each time as he watched them the subaltern thought longingly of
Colonel Dermot and Badshah. If he had them to help him how easily he
could burst the barrier between him and the land that held the girl whom
he loved and who needed him so!
Late one afternoon, as the two men were making their way through bamboo
jungle at the foot of high cliffs close to a pass into Ghutan which they
had not yet attempted, they blundered into the middle of a herd of
elephants feeding. There was no tree in which they could take refuge,
and before they were able to make their escape they found themselves
surrounded on every side. A number of cow-elephants, which, having young
calves with them, were very savage, pressed threateningly towards the
men, who tried to force their way into the dense growths of the bamboos
and so put a frail barrier between themselves and the menacing beasts.
They knew that their pistols would be useless, and they had already
given themselves up for lost when the huge animals which were apparently
about to charge them, suddenly stopped and drew aside to allow a
monstrous bull-elephant to pass through. It was a single-tusker, and it
advanced steadily towards the men. Frank stared at it incredulously.
Could it be----? Yes, it was. He was sure of it. It was Badshah.
And the elephant knew him and came towards him. In the sudden revulsion
of feeling and his relief at knowing that they were safe Frank almost
lost his head. A mad hope surged through him. He stretched out his arms
imploringly to the great beast and cried impulsively:
"Oh, Badshah! _Hum-ko madad do_! (Help us!)"
To his amazement the animal seemed to understand. It sank slowly to its
knees as though inviting him to mount it.
"Sahib! Sahib! He offers us his aid," cried Tashi excitedly, and he
scrambled up after Wargrave who had climbed on to the broad shoulders.
The subaltern leaned forward and, touching the huge forehead, pointed in
the direction of Bhutan. Badshah turned and moved off towards the pass
through the mountains, while the herd followed; and Frank thrilled with
the hope that at last he was about to break through the barrier of foes
between him and the girl he loved.