One afternoon, after a couple of hours' severe polo practice,
Mallender returned home to bathe, and change; and subsequently
feeling considerably refreshed, sauntered out to have a smoke. In the
immediate neighbourhood of his tent was an ancient pleasure-ground,
which doubtless had been laid out in the days of Jane Austen when
ladies took exercise and "walked in the shrubbery." Behold a shrubbery
with tropical trees, thick undergrowth, a wild tangle of shrubs and
creepers, splashed with blossom; and blazing masses of oleanders,
pomegranates and variegated crotons, intersected by overgrown, narrow
walks. In an open space was a large half-empty, chunam tank, and one
or two stone benches. Here Mallender sat down, and lit a cigar. He
seldom now had a moment to himself, his days were a wild rush from one
function to another. Undoubtedly he was having a very jolly visit, but
he must take a pull. He had been nearly a month at Hooper's Gardens,
and it was a case of "As you were." His correspondents Jaffer and Co.
seemed to be of the same mind as the French cynic, who remarked that
"when making promises to people, it was always wise to be exceedingly
vague."
He had engagements for weeks ahead, and if nothing turned up meanwhile,
had agreed to accompany his relatives to the Hills. He liked them both
immensely, and Nancy too. There were lots of good fellows in the polo
teams, and the Fort; he was really having the time of his life! All the
same, he had not come out to take part in this giddy round. When he
began to talk of his enterprise to his cousin, it was odd how sharply
he changed the subject; but whatever happened, he could not allow Fred
to stand in his way! These reflections were suddenly interrupted by an
audible, half-strangled sob; Mallender looked about him. At first he
had an idea that the sound came from the mysterious enclosure over the
wall; possibly the Prince had been chastising one of his women-folk. It
was rather a weird establishment; generally silent as death. At times,
he caught the sound of squealing horses, men's sonorous authoritative
voices, and occasionally, at a very late hour, the strains of a zitar
were wafted above the intervening neem and pagoda trees. Another
loud heart-shaking sob! It proceeded from this side of the boundary,
and his own immediate vicinity; Mallender rose quickly, and turning
into a narrow walk, half choked by masses of shrubs, discovered a
girl sitting on a stone seat, her head bowed, her face buried in her
hands--evidently in an agony of grief. Hearing his footsteps, she
started and looked up, and he found himself face to face with Miss Sim.
And, oh what a haggard, tear-stained, ghastly countenance!
"What is the matter?" he asked brusquely.
She choked, and made no reply, but merely continued to stare at
him stupidly. He noticed, that beside her on the seat lay a small
suspicious looking bottle, at which following his glance, she made a
frantic grab.
"Come, Miss Sim," he resumed, now sitting down beside her, "let me hear
all about it,--is it something so _very_ bad?"
A dry shudder was her only answer.
"Can't you tell me?" he urged, "I may be able to pull you through.
Anyway, my cousin will. I hate to see you like this." She was still
sobbing hysterically. "Don't look at me, but imagine I'm another
woman--who just wants to do you a good turn."
Suddenly he remembered her story; here was the so-called "sponge" in
desperate trouble, and possibly at the end of her resources. Although
they had been nearly a month in the same house, they had but scant
acquaintance. Miss Sim did not ride, play bridge, or take any part
in social activities; if Mallender ever thought of her, it was as a
colourless young woman, with anxious eyes, who seemed only too thankful
to be ignored, and overlooked. He had noticed her motoring with Fanny,
and helping her with notes, and menu cards. Fred, too, talked, played
tennis, and danced with her, but to most of their other guests Miss
Sim was as a ghost. Mrs. Villars recognised her existence so far as to
make use of her and send her messages; whilst Mrs. Wylie ridiculed her
openly, and treated her as if she were a servant.
"In the first place, hand me over that little bottle," he went on
authoritatively.
No answer beyond a subdued weeping and choking.
"If you don't, I shall have to take it from you."
Moved by this threat, she slowly unclosed her limp fingers, and he
promptly possessed himself of a tiny blue phial, on which was scrawled:
"Poysun--fur dog."
"Now," said Mallender as he crossed his legs, and looked at her
sternly, "I insist on your telling me what this means?" He realised,
that he must adopt a determined attitude, with this miserable weeping
creature. "Come, now."
"Oh, it's a long, long story," she moaned, "and I've been such a fool!"
"We have all been that," he answered cheerily. "Unless I know what your
trouble is, how on earth can I help you?"
"Must I really tell you?" and she looked up at him with streaming eyes.
"Why not? But first of all, let us get out of this jungle, and sit
in the open by the tank," and he rose, and led the way followed by
wretched Miss Sim, whose spasmodic sobs were still audible, though she
was now comparatively calm.
"To begin with," she said as she dried her eyes, "I made a fatal
mistake in coming out to India. I had no business in this country."
"Precisely my own case, according to Brown and Co.," reflected
Mallender.
"But I was so miserable at home; an orphan, living with my aunt, as
maid and governess to her four children. I had always longed to see
India, and devoured every book relating to the East that I could lay
hands on, and a girl I knew, had a married sister in Poona, and read
me her delightful letters. Then when I went for a holiday to an old
school-fellow, I met a lady who lived out here, and who took a fancy
to me"--she paused for a moment, and added hysterically, "I wonder you
don't laugh!"
"Why should I laugh?" he asked sharply.
"I was so different then, bright, and gay. I could sing, and tell
fortunes, and trim hats, and Mrs. Powell, who was returning to India,
said, that if ever I could scrape up the passage money, and make my way
out, she would give me a ripping time."
"I see."
"I got this idea firmly fixed in my mind, and worked for it like a
slave. I sold some old jewellery, and bought things, and got together
my outfit, and at the end of six months, I advertised for, and obtained
a passage to Bombay, as nurse to one child. Then I told Aunt Todd; she
was furious, and declared that if I went, what she called 'wild-goosing
to India,' she would never have anything more to say to me as long as
she lived."
"And you came all the same!" commented her companion.
"I did. I had a delightful passage, and made a number of new
friends. Of an evening, I sang and acted, and played bridge. I never
shirked my work; but once Jacky was in bed, and asleep, I considered
myself _free_. Mrs. Blunt and I had a difference of opinion on the
subject--she expected me to sit, mewed up in the cabin, till bedtime.
But I did not care what she said. I was reckless, and happy, and greedy
of amusement. When we arrived in Bombay I sent Mrs. Powell a wire,
'Here I am--may I come?' the answer was merely 'Yes,' and I confess, I
felt a little damped; for in England, she had been so demonstrative,
and affectionate. However, when I reached Chotapore, after a long dusty
journey, she seemed rather pleased to see me; but somehow, I felt in
my bones, that this Mrs. Powell was not the same woman I had known in
Ealing. Still, she made me welcome to her spare room, and I trimmed
up her hats, and things, and sang, and told fortunes at her little
parties. I think Mr. Powell liked me; he took me out riding, and taught
me piquet, but his wife soon grew tired of me,--and let me see it. I
had supposed that in India, guests stayed for months and months, but I
found that times were changed; a few weeks, or even days, is the limit
of a visit."
"And what happened next?" enquired Mallender.
"After leaving the Powells, I went on to various ship acquaintances,
and more or less enjoyed myself for six months. After that my money
began to give out, and also my invitations, and wardrobe. By the end of
the year, I was forced to write an abject letter to my aunt, imploring
her to pay my passage home."
"And she refused, and said she'd see you further?" threw in Mallender.
"She said nothing; I've sent four letters registered, and no
reply,--though she _must_ know that I am absolutely penniless, and
destitute."
"But what has brought your troubles to a crisis?"
"Many things. For one, my only girl friend, and confidante, who advises
and helps me, has sprained her ankle, and her odious mother will not
allow us to meet, when I call I'm told 'Missus can't see.' Perhaps
she's afraid I want to borrow money!"
"But why go so far? Why go outside this place? Surely you have friends
here--my cousin?"
"That is just another reason. Mrs. Tallboys has done so much for me,
her kindness is--oh, you have _no_ idea of it! I came for one month,
my second visit, and I'm here three. Mrs. Brander has given me things,
and lent me money. If she were my sister, she could not have done more.
No, sooner than continue to impose on these kind good people, I'll kill
myself!" and as she spoke, she clenched her hands, the expression of
her face was fixed and distraught, her pale eyes looked enormous.
"But who says you are sponging?" demanded Mallender.
"Oh, everyone--Mrs. Fiske,--Mrs. Wylie,--Mrs. Wylie makes remarks,
that burn and sting. She laughs, and is so scornful, and superior, and
talks of sponges from the servants' hall, and asks for the address
of my tailor and dressmaker? She drives me nearly frantic,--though I
say nothing. I have tried desperately hard to leave Hooper's Gardens;
I've written to people, and implored them to take me as unpaid maid,
or nurse--_no one_ wants me, and I have no money. I gave my last two
rupees to an old woman to buy me that stuff you have in your hand--I
said it was for a dog--but of course she guesses--natives are always so
sharp. Then I made up my mind to take it out here--as it will make less
fuss afterwards--than if I--did it indoors; and long ago a girl _did_
drown herself in this tank. So, you see," suddenly springing to her
feet, "there is nothing else for it. We must all go some time! and--I
really am not wanted in the world. I feel ever so brave now. _Please_
let me have my little phial again, it will be the truest kindness, and
do you go away,--and--and come back in half an hour."
"You know, I shall do nothing of the sort," he rejoined angrily. "Do
you think _I_ am mad, too? Listen to me, Miss Sim: how much will it
cost you to take you home?"
"Oh, ever so much; even a second-class, would be thirty pounds."
"Well now, look here, I can let you have a hundred. Honestly, I'm
pretty well off, and you can pay me back any time--say in twenty years.
How will that be?"
Miss Sim's lips were trembling, her eyes never left his face, as he was
speaking. At last, she said:
"Oh, Captain Mallender,--how _could_ I accept it?"
"At once, since you ask me, and the sooner you make a start the better.
Let me see; the mail comes in on Tuesday--you can pretend your people
have written, and asked you to return 'Ek Dum,' as they say out here."
"Well, at any rate I have not much to pack," she exclaimed
hysterically, "and thirty pounds will be ample--why, it is the price of
my life!"
"Don't talk melodramatic rot!" he rejoined impatiently. "You want a
pull up, and I'm here, to lend a hand. You must have a hundred; you say
you owe money, your passage will be at least fifty, you will require
warm clothes, and cash in hand. You cannot manage on less."
"Once I am in England, I can earn my living; I am a qualified teacher.
I will pay you back some day, Captain Mallender--as sure as I stand
here," she faltered tremulously.
"Please don't let that worry you. I'll draw out the money, take your
ticket, and bring you the balance, shall we say here? the day after
to-morrow--early, or late?"
"I cannot come here early, the servants and syces are always about, but
I could meet you after dinner,--before they begin bridge."
"All right then--Thursday--no, by Jove! I'm dining out. Shall we fix
Friday, on this spot at half-past nine, sharp?"
Miss Sim was about to reply, when a man came suddenly round a turn of
the walk, and stood momentarily transfixed. It was Captain Wylie--one
of the dwellers in tents.
"Hullo, Mallender!" he began awkwardly, "they are looking for you
indoors. Byng wants you. Well, Miss Sim, and so you did not go to the
Croquet Tournament after all? How was that? Preferred the garden, eh?"
"Yes," she answered brusquely, and turning her back on him, instantly
disappeared among the shrubs. Mallender however stood his ground,
and said: "Oh, Byng, yes! By Jove, I forgot him! it's about the polo
of course. I'll go in now----" and he walked away whistling "The
Jewel of Asia," and thus the interloper was left in sole possession
of the field. For some time, he stood with a half smile on his keen
clean-shaven face, then he gave a loud harsh laugh, and strolled away.
Naturally the Friday rendezvous fell through. Mallender the conspirator
was obliged to take bolder, and more open measures; he sent Miss Sim a
note by Anthony, contrived to sit next to her at dinner, and discussed
her arrangements; subsequently in the drawing-room he brought her a
little packet, which he handed over stealthily--saying as he did so:
"This belongs to _you_."
The packet contained money, and a first-class ticket to London.
"I hope you will find it all right," he added, with significance.
"Of course I can never thank you," she murmured in a broken voice, "I
believe this generous action will bring you good luck. I shall write to
you through the Bank, and though we are not likely to meet again--I
will never, never, forget you."
The news of Miss Sim's impending departure caused considerable
surprise; no one more surprised than Captain Mallender!
"What a liar and hypocrite I am," he said to himself, as he discussed
the news with Nancy Brander, whose joy and amazement both were
heartfelt, and sincere. Now, that Miss Sim appeared to have _friends_,
Mrs. Villars and Mrs. Wylie vouchsafed an exaggerated display of
interest in her proceedings, and overwhelmed her with messages and
parcels to take to London; whilst Mrs. Tallboys busied herself in
making arrangements for the girl's comfort, and in buying clothes,
rugs, and woollies, for the voyage.
Nancy Brander received the return of her loan with undisguised
astonishment,--and immediately invested half of it, in a substantial
gift. These two kind women accompanied the poor waif and stray to the
ship, with many instructions saw her comfortably settled, and left her
in charge of the Captain.
No sooner was Miss Sim well away at sea, than a little cloud of scandal
arose. Immediately after her departure, Captain Wylie had informed his
wife of his awkward adventure in the shrubbery.
"Strolling about there, I came bang upon Mallender, and the Sim
girl, in floods of tears; they were fixing up another meeting for
Friday night! Don't say a word to anyone; Mallender carried it off
wonderfully; not the least disconcerted--evidently an old hand at the
game, and as cool as a cucumber!"
"I am astonished," she exclaimed, "I never thought he was that sort.
What a young hypocrite, and Mrs. T. thinks him a saint! Fancy having an
affair with an ugly abject creature like a third housemaid! I always
supposed, he was gone on our lovely widow."
"Well, you see you were wrong! It's a case of still waters--I thought
you'd be amused. Mind you keep what I've told you to yourself."
But to Mrs. Wylie this was impossible. She was choking to gossip, and
though she did not reveal a name, she informed Mrs. Villars, and Mrs.
Fiske, that the Sim girl had a secret, and _desperate_ love affair,
and was accustomed to meet her lover of an evening, when all the
house-party were playing bridge,--from which they would remember, she
had always excused herself. To this, was added yet another piece of
news. It transpired, in answer to unkind enquiries, that Miss Sim had
not received any letters by the English mail, and therefore the story
of the money from home was simply an audacious invention.