And then suddenly a stranger of dusky complexion and wearing flowing
robes and a splendid turban set with precious stones appeared on foot in
the High Street. He seemed greatly interested in the place, for he kept
parading the leading thoroughfare and several of its byways practically
the whole of the morning, so that he could scarcely escape the notice of
all the residents who were in the town; no one failed to see him or to
learn that he had taken lunch at Messrs. Caterham's new restaurant.
An hour later Mrs. Paston drove up to Caterham's. She inquired of one
of the young ladies if the Cachar had rooms in the adjoining hotel,
and learned that he was resting in the private room at the back of the
restaurant.
She at once sent in her card.
Hardly had she done so when Mrs. Lake entered and greeted her--Mrs. Lake
was another of the red-tiled residents--saying--“I hear that the Prince
is here. I suppose you have sent your card to him--I am sending mine.
It is our duty, I think, to show some civility to such a visitor.
My brother, you know, is intimately associated with India--Woods and
Forests, you know.”
She passed her card to the young lady, and smiled at Mrs. Paston in a
way that was meant to assure her that she was mistaken if she fancied
that she was to have the Prince all to herself.
“I am sure that the Prince will be delighted to hear that your brother
is in---- What did you say he was in?” asked Mrs. Paston sweetly.
“Woods and Forests--the most important Department in all India,” said
the other. “My brother would never forgive me if I allowed the Prince to
come here without showing him some civility.”
They were going together to the door when they found themselves face to
face with Mrs. Markham and her daughter, both dressed as if for a garden
party, and close behind them came Major Sowerby of the Territorials and
his son, for whom he had been unsuccessfully trying to get a billet for
the previous two years.
“Glad to see you here, Mrs. Paston,” cried the Major heartily. “Yes, I
maintain that it is our duty to welcome--to stretch out a right hand
of greeting to the natives of our great Dependency--one Empire--one
Flag--hands across the sea--that's what I have always advocated. I am
wondering if he couldn't do something for my Teddy here. I believe these
rajahs and memsahibs and cachars have got no end of money--rupees--the
old Pagoda tree and that. Teddy can turn his hand to anything.”
The expression of his excellent patriotic sentiments was interrupted by
the arrival of nearly all the members of the Committee of inquiry, and a
card-case was in the hand of every one of them, and other ladies of the
élite were hurrying down the street, plainly making the restaurant their
objective. Within a quarter of an hour a whole salver of cards had been
taken charge of by the young lady, some of them bearing a few pencilled
words: “Hoping to be honoured by a visit,” “At home every day this week
at 4,” “Trusting to obtain permission to receive H.H. the Cachar,” and
the like. Mrs. Lake had written on hers, “Sister of Mr. George Barnes,
Woods and Forests Dept.,” and Major Sowerby had put in parenthesis under
his son's name, “Ellison prizeman at Routilla College, Eastbourne.”
The next day the Prince appeared once again promenading the High Street.
He was a man of fine presence, of a rich ruddy brown complexion and a
black beard and moustache, and his turban was a sight! It contained a
central diamond little inferior in size to the Koh-i-noor, and on
each side of it was a pigeon's egg ruby--a lady who saw it called it a
pigeon's blood ruby lest there should be any mistake: a casual glance of
some one who did not know all about these great jewels might convey the
impression that it was only a bantam's blood ruby, which was quite an
inferior stone. He had an air of distinction which caused him to be
greatly admired, and yet he was so devoid of any foolish pride that he
did not hesitate to chat quite pleasantly to one of the young ladies
in Caterham's. (Mrs! Paston, hearing this, expressed the hope that the
young lady would be very careful. But Major Sowerby, when it reached
his ears, said he hoped the Prince would be careful. Mrs. Markham said
nothing, but glanced hopefully at her daughter.)
[Illustration: 0175]
All the ladies remained under their rosy tiles that afternoon, and all
the maids were supplied with the whitest of caps and aprons. Tea was
delayed in every house for three-quarters of an hour: there was
no knowing what might happen. But nothing happened. The Cachar of
Darjeeling was clearly feeling the embarrassment of having to respond
to a welcome offered in such plurality; though Mrs. Paston thought that
surely one of the young ladies in Caterham's would have told him to whom
he should give precedence in making his calls. Every other lady was of
the same opinion.
Mrs. Paston thought it but right that she should give the Prince some
encouragement, so she wrote a little note to him inviting his confidence
as to his plans, and hoping that he might be able to lunch with her
the next day, when she would have great pleasure in driving him to Lady
Collingby's annual Flower Show. Four other ladies addressed notes to him
expressing precisely the same sentiments, and all set out to deliver
them at Caterham's with their own hands, to save the delay of a post.
They entered Caterham's almost simultaneously, without noticing that
the hoarding which had been built about the next door premises while a
plate-glass front of noble design was being set in its place had
been removed. And when they inquired for the Cachar, the young lady
said--“He is in the new shop--you go through the arch on the left.”
There was a Norman arch of lath and plaster enriched by insets of
highly decorated Lincrusta--the paper-hangmen had just left it--in the
partition wall; through it the ladies went and found themselves in a
spacious shop with a profusion of cheap specimens of Oriental china on
lacquer brackets about the walls, and an all-pervading smell of freshly
roasted coffee. It was clearly the newly acquired premises of the
enterprising Messrs. Caterham, which they meant to run as a shop for
the sale of Indian tea and West Indian coffee--the “Old Flag” was their
trade-mark--and a brisk sale of half-pound and quarter-pound packets was
going on at the counter.
So much the ladies who had just entered could see; but a moment after
they had taken their first illuminating glance round the place they
stood with their eyes fixed upon one of the most prominent objects of
the place--the bustling figure of the Cachar of Darjeeling in native
dress, turban and jewels and all, tying up parcels of tea behind the
counter, and testing the coins which the crowd of customers tendered in
payment before pulling the bell-ringing drawer of the cash register!
The enterprise of Messrs. Caterham had suggested to them the advertising
attraction in the form of a full-robed Oriental at the head of their new
tea department. They had promoted one of their old hands--he came from
the East End of London--to the post, and having “made up” under the
guidance of one of Messrs. Nathan's most highly qualified assistants,
Messrs. Caterham were perhaps not going too far when they asserted
in their advertisements that the tea trade of Burford would assume an
entirely new complexion.
The ladies gazed in horrible fascination upon the impostor--at the
moment they were unable to differentiate between an advertisement and
an impostor--for nearly a whole minute, and then they turned and walked
slowly away without exchanging a word.
Mrs. Paston left Burford the next day, having been ordered by her
medical adviser to Buxton. But Major Sowerby picked out his most
serviceable Malacca cane, and was heard to declare, while trying its
balance in downward strokes from left to right, that he had only to come
across that scoundrel who called himself by the honourable title of
a loyal Indian potentate in order to teach him a lesson that he would
remember so long as he had breath in his body.
The general impression that prevailed throughout Burford, however, so
soon as the story of the exclusive ladies and their Indian prince was in
full circulation--and it did not take long to pass round the town--was
that the incident should teach a lesson to a good many people who take
it upon them to lead the red-tiled society of the new town.
But whether they learn any lesson or not, there seems to be a consensus
of opinion that the sooner the name of the High Street is changed to
Prince's Parade the better it will be for the town, Messrs. Caterham,
and, incidentally, Mr. Isaac Moss, professionally known as the Cachar of
Darjeeling. (As a matter of fact, there are already several people not
belonging to the governing classes who, ever since the episode just
recorded, have invariably alluded to the lower part of the High
Street--that part which has been annexed by Messrs. Caterham--as the
Prince's Parade.)