RUPERT ACCEPTS A MISSION
The interval between the 1st of January and the 13th of April, the day
of Rupert’s marriage, may be briefly passed over. All the actors are on
the scene, except those who have to arrive out of the Soudanese desert;
their characters and objects are known, and it remains only to follow
the development of the human forces which have been set in motion to
their inevitable end, whatever that may be.
The choosing of this date, the 13th, which chanced to be a Friday, was
one of the grim little jokes of Lord Devene, from whose house the
marriage was to take place; a public protest against the prevalence of
vulgar superstitions by one who held all such folly in contempt. To
these Rupert, a plain-sailing man who believed his days to be directed
from above, was certainly less open than most, although even he, by
choice, would have avoided anything that might suggest unpleasant
thoughts. Edith, however, neglectful as she was of any form of religion,
still felt such ancient and obscure influences, and protested, but in
vain. The date suited him, said her cousin. There were reasons why the
marriage could not take place before, and on Saturday, the 14th, he had
to go away for a fortnight to be present in Lancashire at an arbitration
which would be lengthy, and held _in situ_ as to legal matters connected
with his coal-mines. So she yielded, and the invitations were issued for
Friday, the 13th of April.
Meanwhile things went on much as might be expected. Rupert sat in
Edith’s pocket and beamed on her all day, never guessing, poor, blind
man, that at times he bored her almost to madness. Still she played her
part faithfully and well, paying him back word for word and smile for
smile, if not always tenderness for tenderness. Mrs. Ullershaw, having
shaken off her preliminary fears and doubts, was cheerful in her
demeanour, and being happy in the happiness of her son, proclaimed on
every occasion her complete contentment with the match. Lord Devene
appeared pleased also, as indeed he was, and lost no opportunity of
holding up Rupert as a model lover, while that unfortunate man writhed
beneath his sarcasms.
Thus once—it was after one of those Grosvenor Square dinners which
Rupert hated so heartily, he found a chance of pointing a moral in his
best manner. Rupert, as usual, had planted himself by Edith in a corner
of the room, whence, much as she wished it, she could not escape, making
of her and himself the object of the amused attention of the company.
“Look at them,” said Lord Devene, who had unexpectedly entered, with a
smile and a wave of the hand that made everybody laugh, especially Dick,
who found their aspect absurd.
“Rupert, do get up,” said Edith; “they are laughing at us.”
“Then let them laugh,” he grumbled, as he obeyed, following her
sheepishly to the centre of the room.
While they advanced, some new sally which they could not hear provoked a
fresh outburst of merriment.
“What is it that amuses you?” asked Rupert crossly.
“Ach, Rupert,” said Lady Devene, “they laugh at you because you do like
to sit alone with your betrothed; but I do not laugh, I think it is
quite proper.”
“Tabitha puts it too roughly,” broke in Lord Devene. “We are not making
fun of beauty and valour completing each other so charmingly in that far
corner, we are paying them our tribute of joyous and respectful
admiration. I confess that it delights me, who am getting old and
cynical, to see people so enraptured by mere companionship. That, my
dear Rupert, is what comes of not being blasé. With the excellent
Frenchman, you can say: ‘J’aime éperdument et pour toujours car je n’ai
jamais éparpillé mon cœur; le parfait amour c’est la couronne de la
vertu.’ Now you reap the rich reward of a youth which I believe to have
been immaculate. Happy is the man who, thrusting aside, or being thrust
aside of opportunity, reserves his first great passion for his wife.”
A renewed titter greeted this very elaborate sarcasm, for so everyone
felt it to be, especially Rupert, who coloured violently. Only Lady
Devene came to his aid and tried to cover his confusion.
“Bah!” she said, “your wit, George, seems to smell of the lamp and to
have a nasty sting in its tail. Why should you mock at these young
people because they are honest enough to show that they are fond of each
other, as they ought to be? Pay no attention and go back to your corner,
my dears, and I will come and sit in front of you; or at least tell them
they should be sorry they cannot say _they_ have not scattered their
hearts about; that is what the French word means, doesn’t it?”
Then in the amusement that was caused by Lady Devene’s mixed metaphors
and quaint suggestion that with her ample form she should shelter the
confidences of Rupert and Edith from prying eyes, the joke was turned
from them to her, as she meant that it should be, and finally forgotten.
But neither Rupert nor Edith forgot it. Never again did they sit close
together in that Grosvenor Square drawing-room, even in the fancied
absence of Lord Devene, a result for which Edith, who hated such public
demonstrations, was truly grateful.
For a while after the announcement of the engagement Rupert and Dick had
seen as little of each other as was possible, the former, because he had
not forgiven Dick’s conduct at the shooting party, which impressed his
mind far more than the vague talk about him and Edith in the past. In
this, indeed, he had never believed, and his nature being utterly
unsuspicious, it was now totally forgotten. As for Dick, he had his own
reasons for the avoidance of his successful rival, whom all men and
women united to honour. By degrees, however, Edith, who lived in
perpetual fear of some passionate outburst from Dick, managed to patch
up their differences, at least to the outward eye, for the abyss between
them was too wide to be ever really bridged. Indeed, her efforts in this
direction nearly resulted in what she most wanted to avoid, an open
quarrel.
It came about in this fashion. The opportunity which had been foreseen
arose; the sitting member for that county division in which Lord Devene
lived had retired, and Dick was put up to contest the seat in the
Radical interest against a strong and popular Conservative candidate.
His chances of success were fair, as the constituency was notoriously
fickle, and public feeling just then was running against the Tories.
Also Lord Devene, although as a peer he could take no active part in the
election, was using his great wealth and interest in every legitimate
way to secure his nominee’s return.
When the contest, with the details of which we need not concern
ourselves, drew near its close, Dick himself suggested that it might
help him, and give variety to one of his larger meetings, if Rupert
would come and talk a little about Egypt and the Arabs with whom he had
fought so often. He knew well that although country people will attend
political gatherings and shout on this side or on that according as they
think that their personal advantage lies, all the best of them are in
reality far more interested in exciting stories of fact from someone
whom they respect, than in the polemics of party politicians.
When the suggestion was made to him, needless to say, Rupert declined it
at once. Theoretically, he was a Liberal; that is to say, like most good
and earnest men he desired the welfare of the people and the promotion
of all measures by which it might be furthered. But on the other hand,
he was no bitter Radical of the stamp of Lord Devene, who wished to pull
down and burn for the sake of the crash and the flare; and he was, on
the other hand, what nowadays is called an Imperialist, believing in the
mission of Britain among the peoples of the earth, and desiring the
consolidation of her empire’s might because it meant justice, peace, and
individual security; because it freed the slave, paralysed the hands of
rapine, and caused the corn to grow and the child to laugh.
Now Rupert did not consider that these causes would be promoted by the
return of Dick to Parliament, where he would sit as a mouthpiece of Lord
Devene. Then Edith intervened, and dropping Dick out of the matter,
asked him to do this for her sake. She explained that for family reasons
it would be a good thing if Dick won this seat, as thereby a new career
would be open to him who sadly needed one; also that Dick himself would
be most grateful.
The end of it was that Rupert consented, forgetting, or not being aware,
that as an officer on leave he had no business to appear upon a party
platform, a fact of which Dick did not think it necessary to remind him.
The meeting, which was one of the last of the campaign, took place in
the corn-hall of a small country town, and was crowded by the supporters
of Dick and a large contingent of his opponents. The candidate himself,
who spoke glibly and well enough, for as Edith and others had often
found out, Dick did not lack for readiness, gave his address, which was
cheered by his friends and groaned at by his foes. It was of the
stereotyped order—that is to say, utterly worthless, a mere collection
of the parrot platitudes of the hour by which the great heart of the
people was supposed to be moved, but for all that, well and forcibly
delivered.
Then followed a heavy and long-winded member of Parliament, at whom,
before he had done, the whole room hooted, while some of the occupants
of the back benches began to sing and shuffle their feet. Next the
chairman, a prosperous local manufacturer, rose and said that he was
going to call upon Colonel Ullershaw of the Egyptian army, Companion of
the Bath, member of the Distinguished Service Order, and of the Turkish
Order of the Medjidie (he called it “Gee-gee,” or something like it),
and the possessor of various medals, to say nothing of his being the
relative and present heir of their most esteemed friend and neighbour,
the noble Lord Devene, and therefore intimately connected with every one
of them, to address them. The gallant Colonel would not make them a
political speech, as they had had enough of politics for that night (at
this the audience enthusiastically shouted, _Hear, hear!_), but he would
tell them about the wars in Egypt which, although many of them did not
approve of those wars, were still interesting to hear about as at any
rate they paid for them (more _hear! hears!_). He might well call him
gallant, as they would say also when he told them the following story,
and to the absolute horror of Rupert, who was literally writhing on a
back seat behind this dreadful man, and to the amusement of Edith
sitting at his side, he proceeded to give a highly-coloured and garbled
version of the exploit that did _not_ win him the Victoria Cross,
whereon a voice shouted:
“That’s all true. I was there. I saw the Colonel come in with the man.”
(Renewed and tempestuous cheers.)
There being no help for it, Rupert rose, and was warmly greeted. He had
never given his mind to public speaking, and although his voice was good
and resonant, it cannot be said that at the beginning his remarks
compelled attention. Indeed, after five minutes of them, Dick and his
agent, counting him a failure, began to consult as to how they could get
him down, while Edith felt mortified. Then, as he wandered on with a
long and scientific account of the Egyptian campaigns, someone shouted:
“Stow all that history book, and tell us about Gordon.”
Instantly Rupert took fire, for Gordon was his favourite hero, the man
whom he had known, loved and revered above all other men. He began to
tell them about Gordon, about his glorious and desperate enterprise
undertaken at the request of the Government, about his splendid fight
against overwhelming odds, whilst sick at heart he awaited the relief
which was sent too late; about that journey to save him in which he,
Rupert, had shared, about the details of his martyr-death. Then, quite
forgetting the occasion and whom he had come to support, he broke into a
really eloquent tirade against those whom he considered to be
responsible for the desertion of Gordon.
To finish up with, in answer to the suggestion of a voice in the
audience that Gordon was not really dead, he actually quoted some
well-known lines of poetry which he had by heart:
“He will not come again, whatever our need,
He will not come, who is happy, being freed
From the deathly flesh and perishable things,
And lies of statesmen and rewards of kings,”
and then suddenly sat down amidst a tempest of cheers, mingled with
cries of “Shame!” in which the whole room joined.
“Great Heavens!” said Dick fiercely, to his agent, “I believe that
speech will lose us the election.”
“Shouldn’t wonder,” answered the agent grimly. “Whatever did you get him
here for? Better have stuck to the party patter.”
Meanwhile a man, standing on a form, bawled out:
“And is them the beggars as you wishes us to vote for, master?”
Whereon followed what the local paper (luckily for Rupert his remarks
were reported nowhere else) described as “great confusion,” which
culminated in something like a free fight.
In the midst of all this tumult, Dick, who was beside himself with
passion, forced his way to Rupert, and almost shaking his fist in his
face, shouted at him:
“Damn you! You did that on purpose. You’ve lost me the seat, but sooner
or later I’ll be even with you, you canting hypocrite—”
He got no further, for next instant Rupert’s heavy right hand fell upon
his shoulder and forced him to a chair.
“You don’t know what you are saying,” he said; “but speak like that
again, and I’ll throw you off the platform.”
Then Dick, feeling that iron grip still upon his shoulder, was silent.
Here we may close the account of this curious scene, which once more
showed the undesirability of invoking the aid of inexperienced and too
honest persons at party meetings. To Dick the matter was serious enough,
but to Edith’s surprise, Lord Devene, whom she had thought would be
angry, was intensely amused. Indeed, he went so far as to say that
whether Dick got in or not, that one delightful story was worth the cost
of the entire campaign.
When Rupert came to understand what he had done, needless to say he
showed much penitence, and wrote a letter of apology to Dick, in which
he “regretted having spoken the truth about Gordon in the excitement of
the moment,” and gave him leave, if he wished, “to publish this letter.”
Of this kind offer Dick did not avail himself. Under advice, however, he
wrote back, saying sarcastically that the fault was his, who should have
remembered that “distinguished men of action were rarely adepts at
public speaking, and could not be expected to understand the exigencies
of party affairs, which seldom made it desirable to drag the last veil
from Truth, however pure and beautiful she might be.” He concluded by
apologising, in his turn, for any words that _he_ might have spoken “in
the excitement of the moment.”
Thus, outwardly, at any rate, matters were patched up between them;
still Dick did not forget his promise to be even sooner or later, or
indeed the weight of Rupert’s hand, of which his shoulder showed traces
for many a day.
As for the end of the contest, the Devene money and interest prevailed
at last, Dick being returned triumphantly with a small but sufficient
majority of fifteen votes, reduced to thirteen on a recount. A few days
later he took his seat in the House, where he was enthusiastically
received by his party, to which the winning of this election was of
consequence.
Dick had not very long to wait for his first opportunity of “coming
even” with Rupert. As it chanced, on the 11th of April, two days before
the marriage, he met and fell into conversation with Lord Southwick in
the lobby of the House.
“By the way,” said his lordship, “rather a pity that Ullershaw is just
going to be married; we have got a job that would exactly suit him.”
“What is that?” asked Dick, pricking up his ears.
“Oh! a man is wanted who knows those rascally Arab sheiks who live about
the frontier at Wady-Halfa—secret service mission, to get round them
privately, you know; I can’t tell you the details, not that I think you
would give me away to your people. The officer sent must be thoroughly
acquainted with Arabic, and with the beastly manners and customs of the
natives. Ullershaw’s name came up at once as the very man, but I said
that I was going to his wedding in two days, so as we couldn’t think of
anyone else, the matter was left over till to-morrow afternoon.”
“When would he have to start?” asked Dick.
“At once, the thing is urgent; on Friday by the Brindisi mail, about
seven o’clock in the evening, and you see he is to be married that
afternoon. It’s a thousand pities, as it would have been a great chance
for him and for us too.”
Dick thought a moment and light came to him.
“My cousin Ullershaw is a curious fellow,” he said, “and I am not by any
means certain that he would let his marriage stand in the way of duty,
if it were put to him like that. How long would this mission take?”
“Oh! he could be back here in three months, but—er—you know—it would not
be entirely devoid of risk. That’s why we must have someone whose nerve
can be really relied on.”
“Ullershaw likes risks. As you say, it would suit him down to the
ground. Look here, Lord Southwick! why don’t you give him the chance? It
would be kind of you. It’s a shame to take away a fellow’s opportunities
because he commits the crime of getting married, and matrimonial bliss
will generally keep three months. Send for him and ask him. At any rate,
he will appreciate the compliment.”
“Don’t think I should if I had only been married an hour or two,” said
Lord Southwick. “However, the public service must be considered, so I
will hear what my chief says. Where will a wire find him?”
Dick gave the address, and as an afterthought added that of Lord Devene
in Grosvenor Square, where it occurred to him that Rupert would very
likely be on the following afternoon, suggesting that it would be wise
to send any telegram in duplicate.
“Very well,” said the Under-Secretary, as he made a note of the
addresses. “I will settle it one way or another to-morrow afternoon;
shan’t get the chance before,” and he turned to go.
“One word,” broke in Dick. “I shall take it as a favour if you don’t
mention my name in connection with this matter. Of course I want to do
him a good turn, but there is no knowing how the lady will take it, and
I might get wigged afterwards.”
“All right,” answered Lord Southwick, with a laugh, “I’ll remember.”
“I don’t think that Edith would see spending her honeymoon amongst the
savages of the Soudan,” reflected Dick to himself, with a crooked little
smile, as he made his way into the House. “‘Not devoid of risk.’ Yes,
Rupert’s friend, Gordon, went on a special mission to the Soudan, and
did not come back.”
On the following afternoon about four o’clock, as Rupert was leaving his
mother’s house to see Edith in Grosvenor Square, where she had taken up
her abode, a messenger put a telegram into his hand, which read:
Come to the War Office at once. Must speak with you upon very important
business. Will wait here till five.
SOUTHWICK.
Wondering what he was wanted for, Rupert told his cabman to drive to
Pall Mall, and within half an hour of the receipt of the telegram sent
in his card. Presently he was shown, not to the Under-Secretary’s room,
but into another, where he found the Secretary of State, and with him,
Lord Southwick.
“Prompt, very prompt, I see, Colonel Ullershaw,” said the former, “an
excellent quality in an officer. Now sit down and I will just go over
the main points of this business. If you undertake it, Lord Southwick
will explain the details afterwards. You know the Wady-Halfa district
and the Shillook Arabs and their headmen, don’t you, and you can speak
Arabic well, can’t you? Also you have had diplomatic experience, haven’t
you?”
“Yes, sir, to all four questions,” answered Rupert.
“Very good. These Shillooks have been giving a lot of trouble, raiding
and killing people about Abu-Simbel and so forth. According to our
reports, which you can see afterwards, they have been stirred up by a
rascal called Ibrahim, the Sheik of the Sweet Wells. Do you know him?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Rupert, with a little smile, “he threatened to
murder me the other day.”
“I can quite believe it. Now see here. We are advised that several of
these Shillook chiefs, including the one who has the most influence, are
getting tired of the Khalifa and his little ways, and are, in short,
open to treat, if only they can be got at by someone whom they know and
have their palms well-greased. Now, for various reasons, the Egyptian
Government does not wish to send an embassy to them, or any officer who
is at present on the spot. You see the Khalifa would hear of it at once
and might come down on them. What is wanted is an envoy travelling
apparently on his own business, or if it is feasible, disguised as an
Arab, who will slip through to them quietly and arrange a treaty. I need
not say that, whoever did this satisfactorily, would earn the gratitude
of the Egyptian Government, and would not be overlooked at the proper
time. Now, Colonel Ullershaw, it has occurred to us that you are the
very man for this affair, especially as you would take our complete
confidence with you.”
“I am much honoured,” said Rupert, flushing at the compliment. “I should
like the mission above all things, especially as I understand these men,
one or two of whom are rather friends of mine. Indeed, the most
influential of them accompanied me on a shooting expedition, and if
anyone can move him, I think I can.”
“There would be risks,” put in Lord Southwick meaningly, for under the
circumstances his kind heart misgave him.
“I don’t mind risks, or, at least, I am accustomed to them, my lord,”
said Rupert quietly.
“There is another point,” went on Lord Southwick. “Supposing that you
were to fail—and failure must be contemplated—it might be needful, as no
forward policy has been announced at present, for those in authority not
to take any official notice of the affair, which would possibly be used
as a handle for attack upon them. You would, therefore, receive no
written instructions, and the necessary money would be handed to you in
gold.”
“I quite understand,” answered Rupert, “and so long as I am not thought
the worse of in such an event, or made to suffer for it, it is all the
same to me. Only,” he added, suddenly remembering his forthcoming
marriage, “when should I have to start?”
“By the evening mail to-morrow,” said the Secretary of State, “for the
conditions may change and will not bear delay.”
Rupert’s jaw fell. “I am to be married to-morrow at half-past two, sir.”
The Secretary of State and Lord Southwick looked at each other; then the
former spoke.
“We know that, Colonel Ullershaw, especially as one of us is to have the
pleasure of attending your wedding. Still, in your own interests and
what we are sure you will consider much more, in those of your country,
we felt it right to give you the first offer of this delicate and
responsible mission. Situated as you are, we do not urge you to accept
it, especially as in the event of your refusal, for which we shall not
in the least blame you, we have another officer waiting to take your
place. At the same time, I tell you candidly that I do not think you
will refuse, because I believe you to be a man who sets duty above every
other earthly consideration. And now, sorry as I am to hurry you when
there is so much to be considered on both sides, I must ask for your
decision, as the other gentleman must absolutely have twenty-four hours
in which to make his preparations.”
Rupert rose and walked twice up and down the room, while they watched
him—Lord Southwick very uneasily. At the second turn, he halted opposite
to the Secretary of State.
“You used the word duty, sir,” he said, “and therefore I have little
choice in the matter. I accept the mission with which you have been
pleased to honour me.”
Lord Southwick opened his mouth to speak, but the Secretary of State cut
him short.
“As Colonel Ullershaw has accepted, I do not think we need waste further
time in discussion. Colonel Ullershaw, I congratulate you on the spirit
that you have shown, which, as I thought it would, from your record and
the judgment I formed of you at our previous interview, has led you to
place your duty to your Queen and country before your personal happiness
and convenience. I trust—and indeed I may say I believe—that our
arrangement of this afternoon may prove, not the starting-point, it is
true, but a very high step in a great and distinguished career.
Good-day; I wish you all success. Lord Southwick will join you in his
room presently and settle the details.”
“It seems a little rough,” said Lord Southwick, as the door closed
behind Rupert, “on his marriage day and so forth. Supposing he got
killed, as he very likely will.”
“Many men, as good or better, have come to grief in doing their duty,”
answered his chief, a pompous individual who modelled himself upon the
Spartans, at any rate where other people were concerned. “He must take
his chance like the rest. Give him the K.C.B. and that sort of thing if
he gets through, you know.”
“K.C.B.s aren’t much use to dead men, or their widows either,” grumbled
Lord Southwick. “I rather wish we hadn’t talked to him about duty; you
see, he is a quixotic sort of fellow, and really, as he isn’t even to
have a commission, there can’t be any duty in the matter. He’s only a
kind of volunteer on a second-class, forlorn hope, to prepare the way by
bribes and otherwise for an advance about which nothing is to be said,
with the chance of being repudiated as having exceeded his instructions
if anything goes wrong.”
“Really, Southwick,” said his chief uneasily, “it is a pity all this
didn’t occur to you before you urged his employment—on the
representations of his family, I understood. Anyway, it’s settled now,
and we can’t go back on it. Besides, from a public point of view, it was
important to get Ullershaw, who really is the only man, for that Major
What’s-his-name is an ignorant and conceited fellow, with nothing to
recommend him except his knowledge of Arabic, who would have been sure
to make a mess. With the example of what has happened in the past before
our eyes, we can’t commit ourselves in writing over a job of this sort.
If he gets killed—he gets killed, and we are not to blame. If he comes
through, he is made a K.C.B., and enjoys his honeymoon all the more. So
don’t let’s bother about him. Is there anything else? No. Then good-bye;
I’ll be off to the House.”