As Alfred Rayner was being driven along the crowded streets of Calcutta
after his call on Truelove Brothers, he felt less inclined than ever for
a pleasure trip on the river, or even for a return to tiffin with his
host and hostess. He decided that he must find a safety-valve for his
disturbed state of mind, and presently he caught sight of a gaudy sign
announcing: "Tiffin and Billiards within." The place looked large and
airy, and he saw some figures like European gentlemen moving about
within.
"I'll tiff here more comfortably than with those worthy Melfords," he
said to himself, and called to the gharry-wallah to halt. He paid his
fare, dismissed him, and entered the wide doorway.
During lunch he made the acquaintance of some of the _habitués_ of the
Club, who appeared eager to receive him, and invited him to share their
game. Being an excellent billiard player, he congratulated himself as
the afternoon advanced on having had a good stroke of fortune in
stumbling into this resort.
"I've positively made enough to pay that crawling half-caste if I do
make up my mind to buy his secret. Perhaps I'd better take the hazard of
the die! It may prove well spent money. I'm convinced I'll hear my
secretive pater is a _grand seigneur_, possibly lounging about
Piccadilly at this moment while his son is grilling here! I could read
in old Fyson's manner, as well as in his words, that my dad was
'somebody,' and if I have the secret from his clerk, I shan't have him
to thank for the present of it. Yes, as I've made the required sum I
will go and buy it from that creature whose long ears have stood him in
good stead."
He glanced at his watch and found that it was now nearly the appointed
hour for the meeting at the Shrine of Kali. Having taken the measure of
the men round him, he knew well that they were reckoning on getting his
winnings transferred to their own pockets before the evening was over.
To announce therefore his intention to depart would prove worse than
foolish. Seizing a moment when he found himself near the door, he flung
aside his cue and hurried off with such suddenness that the other
inmates of the room did not realise he was gone.
"Very neatly played," he muttered with a relieved sigh, as he leant back
in the tikka-gharry which was carrying him along the brightly-lit
streets to the appointed trysting-place.
Presently the paving-stones were left behind, and the gharry rattled
along a soft dusty roadway lined by trees, though the presence of lamps
indicated that they were still in the suburbs. At last the gharry-wallah
pulled up at the precincts of the little sandstone temple embowered by
trees. Long dank grass of a marshy kind grew all round, the temple being
in the near neighbourhood of a small river which ran into the Hoogly.
This river was regarded as sacred, and therefore the little shrine had
been planted on its banks.
Under the shadow of a big neem tree Mr. Rayner caught sight of the
Eurasian clerk, who now came towards him through the long grass with
rapid steps.
"Thought you were never coming, sir," he began. "I've been hangin' about
this blessed place for more than an hour. I was makin' up my mind you
was goin' to give me the slip!"
He was holding some papers in his hand and his eyes shone with
excitement. Mr. Rayner dismissed the gharry, and advanced a few steps
into the grass, saying impatiently:
"Well, out with it! Mind, if you humbug me, I'll find means to pay you
out in something different from a bag of rupees. But for good value
I'll pay you a good price. I know my father must be a person of
importance, or Truelove Brothers wouldn't have been so deferential to me
all along."
"You're right, sir, he is a person of veree great importance. What's
more, I've seen him with my own eyes and heard 'em whisperin'--the boss
and him about you--'Alfred' bein' your name. So you see I know more than
you might think to look at me."
"You'd need to!" said Rayner contemptuously, as he surveyed the bent
shoulders and the weak face of this humble member of the race he
despised. "Come on then, out with it! I can't stand all night listening
to your haverings. His name and his address!"
"His name is an honoured one among us. It's David Morpeth, sir, and his
address is Freyville, Vepery, Madras!"
"You lie--you lie!" shouted Rayner, after a moment's stunned silence,
waxing so deadly pale that the clerk thought he was about to faint. Then
suddenly he flung himself on the young man and seized him by the throat.
"You lie, say you lie!" he screamed.
The youth strove frantically to shake himself free from the grasp of the
convulsive fingers, and after a struggle succeeded in doing so.
"Oh my gracious me!" he gasped. "Oh, my, what an onset--and for my prime
bit of news too, as I thought you'd be proud to hear--you the son of
such a man!"
"Listen to me, you idiot," said Rayner in a choking voice, with an
effort to calm himself. "There must be some mistake! This is not the
truth you have told me. Say that you've lied and I'll forgive
you--you'll have your hundred rupees. I've got it here--say you've been
lying!"
"I can't say no different than what I've stated," said the clerk,
shaking his head dolorously. "I've got you the proofs in my hand. Though
they be pilfered they're genuine, as you, being a man of education,
will see at a glance."
He laid two letters into Rayner's hand. The writing could hardly be
distinguished in the dim light, but on his going under one of the lamps
he could read the words which David Morpeth had lately written to Mr.
Fyson concerning his son. One recorded the offer of the double allowance
"if my son, Alfred Rayner, will agree to abandon his betting and
gambling habits and turn to better ways." It bore so obviously the
impress of genuineness that even Alfred Rayner could no longer doubt the
truth of the, to him, appalling revelation.
"You see it was like this," said the clerk, in an explanatory tone,
setting his head on one side. "Mr. Morpeth's wife--your mother, was, as
I've heard, a great toast in Chandrychoke, though one would not have
said, according to my mother, that she was a match for him--Mr. Morpeth,
I mean--his family belonging to Duramtollah, where the upper classes of
us Eurasians live. But he wedded her all the same, and she worried him a
good bit with her high-flown ideas and her temper and all, being a
trifle light. He was always a quiet gentleman, they say. When you was
born and she lay a-dying, she made him pledge himself to give you up to
her sister Flo who was wed on a Mister Rayner. He once held the same
post as myself in Trueloves', but he made his pile somehow and went to
England to swagger and spend."
The man was so taken up with his narration that he forgot he was
speaking to the relative of these people. At the mention of his aunt's
name, Rayner squirmed. Cruel searching daylight was stealing into his
mind. Forgotten things were being brought to memory. He covered his face
and leant against a tree, groaning. But the clerk, with a ring of
indignation in his _chi-chi_ voice, proceeded:
"And you, forsooth, were never even to be told about your father and was
to carry the name of Rayner--a name a deal sight lower than Morpeth. I
can show you the very house you was born in and where you was bred till
you was took to England. It's not far from this veree spot. Your aunt
said as how she would live no longer in half-caste holes, though she was
a good bit darker than me, if you'll remember. And Mr. Morpeth, he took
a bungalow for them, and they lived there like fighting-cocks till they
took you away across the black water. Being a kid, maybe you'll not
mind, but there's more than one in Chandrychoke, including my mother,
that minds well. So why you're squealin' and fightin' with me for
tellin' the veree facts, I can't see," he wound up querulously, as he
tried to peer into Rayner's face which was now turned towards him,
appearing ghastly white, his eyes staring vacantly.
Some moments elapsed, and as Rayner still did not speak, the youth began
to get impatient, and moreover, longed for his supper.
"I'll be steppin' townwards now, sir," he said timidly, keeping his eyes
fixed on the rigid face. Mechanically Alfred Rayner drew from his small
travelling satchel the bag of rupees, and held it out to the clerk,
whose long thin fingers closed upon it. Without waiting to count the
money he hurried off across the grass, never halting till he was well
clear of the Shrine of Kali. Then he sat down under one of the oil lamps
which skirted the road.
"I wonder if he's given me up to our bargain," he muttered. "Shouldn't
wonder if he's divided it by half seeing he took my prime bit of news
thatt bad. Oh my gracious me, to think of his turning up his nose 'cause
Mr. Morpeth was his father, and him not fit to black his boots, for all
his airs and fine clothes! I saw well the boss didn't seem to think much
of him. Yes," he added, with a gratified start, after counting the
money. "I declare, the hundred rupees is here all right. My gracious,
some folks be fools and no mistake!" Then he jumped up and proceeded to
walk home with brisk steps.
How long Alfred Rayner stood in the shadow of Kali's Shrine he never
could have told, nor would he have wished to recall. Waves of misery
seemed to roll over him. For long he could not steady his thoughts, and
when he partially succeeded, his fury only grew apace. He saw it all
now, he said to himself. From his very birth he had been the cruel sport
of an evil fate! How he recognised his Aunt Flo in the touches the clerk
had given! Yes, she _was_ dark, and used to delight in recounting how
she had been a beautiful brunette in her day, though she always dwelt
with complacency on his being a fair-skinned boy! He recalled that more
than once since his return to India he had been haunted by a
subconscious feeling that there might be a strain of the hated
half-caste blood in his veins. It was that fear which he had hardly
allowed to cross his mind which had proved the origin of his attitude
towards the whole class, while to David Morpeth his hatred had amounted
to an obsession. Never could he behold the man without a sense of bitter
annoyance which he knew full well, had found vent on more than one
occasion. He recalled that evening when he had almost trampled on him as
he was driving home in his mail-phaeton--and Cheveril's remonstrance.
The whole scene sprang vividly into his memory. In his impotent rage he
wished the hoofs of his Australians had trampled the life out of him
that night. And again when he had crossed his path on the steps of his
own house--ah, he remembered it well. It had been the occasion of his
first quarrel with Hester.
"Oh, Hester, I had forgotten you!" he groaned. "She's bound to hear this
awful disclosure. The secret seems common property. Perhaps she'll turn
from me, or worse still, she will take sides with that half-caste,
Cheveril. But after all this vile secret may be long in filtering
through. My rôle is to put a bold front on it, and hold up my head and
pose as heretofore as a pure-bred Englishman. If any rumour reaches my
wife's ear I can squash it by persuading her that the whole thing is a
slander trumped up by my enemies. But the allowance? I can't, I shan't
continue to finger a penny of the money that comes from that man! I'll
throw it back in his face, hard up as I am, at least I'll command
Truelove Brothers to do so. I'll have no dealings with him. I'll pass
him as before. I'll let the hoofs of my horses trample on him if they
will. No mawkish sentiment for me! I'm not going to risk my reputation
by having it known my father is a half-caste--even if it's true! The
whole story may be a lie. I may only be some ward of his, and he
swindling me with but a slice of my fortune."
A prey to seething thoughts, almost without knowing it he had started on
his homeward walk. At the moment when he clung to the hope that after
all he was the victim of some conspiracy and that there was no blood-tie
between him and the hated community, he happened to glance up at a
bungalow which was now brightly lit by oil lamps. Its circular verandah
was ornamented with trellis-work eaves, among which tendrils of a dark
glossy creeper intertwined. Suddenly there sprang to his mind the
conviction that he had seen that spot long ago. Yes, those trellis-work
eaves had looked down upon him when he was a little boy! One day he had
gleefully rolled a new bright painted wheelbarrow along that verandah,
and the giver of that wheelbarrow, a grave, silent big man with grey
eyes, stood by watching him as he played, with a smile on his face--the
smile of David Morpeth! Then the little boy had pushed his wheelbarrow
down those red steps and run full tilt at the gardener's baby, a little,
naked, brown urchin, who stood gazing open-mouthed, and knocked him
down, while the air rent with his shrill cries. Then the smile vanished
from the face of the big man, and with a stern air he brought his
fingers down sharply on the owner of the new wheelbarrow, who in his
turn gave an angry yell which brought a half-dressed woman with long
black locks falling about her to the verandah. She had folded the boy in
her arms, saying shrilly: "What are you doing to my _chota sahib_? You
shall not touch my precious one with your big hands."
"I punished him for knocking down the gardener's boy, Flora," answered a
grave voice.
"A native brat! What matter of thatt?"
And the grave voice replied: "If you bring the boy up like this, Flora
Rayner, he'll turn out a scoundrel." Then the big man turned away with
sad, stern eyes--the eyes of David Morpeth!
It was Alfred Rayner's only memory of the past, but it leapt out now, a
clear-cut picture, as he stood gazing on the once familiar spot.
"Bah! What have I, an English gentleman bred, to do with such a
nightmare," he muttered, shrugging his shoulders, as he walked off with
quickened steps. "I'll bury the whole thing fathoms deep."
He did not slacken his pace till the feebly-lit road merged into the
bright streets of the city. Seeing the doors of a hotel standing
invitingly open, he paused.
"I'm hopelessly late for the Melford's dinner now, I'd better fortify my
inner man here," he said to himself, and hurried up the steps. "This mad
meeting at the Shrine of Kali has robbed me of my usual appetite. I'll
just toss down a glass of brandy to strengthen my nerves before I face
that estimable couple."
The stimulant seemed restoring. He passed out to the street again and
hailed a tikka-gharry to drive him to Ballygunge Road without further
delay.
His host and hostess could not help greeting him with inquiring eyes on
his arrival.
"A most discourteous guest I must appear, Mrs. Melford. But pray don't
pass sentence on me till you have heard my sad tale," he said lightly.
"Well, to begin with, when I emerged from Truelove Brothers I found
that I was hopelessly late for your tiffin, and also for joining the
steam-launch party. I refreshed myself as best I could at a place near,
and then set out to mow down some calls, seeing that the pleasure of an
afternoon on the river was beyond my reach. Then I lost myself, as one
may well do in this labyrinth of a place. At last I managed to pick up a
gharry and here I am, full of contrition for my bad behaviour. Hope you
forgive me, Mrs. Melford?"
"Oh, but I'm sorry you missed our river picnic. It was so delightful and
cool. What a strange day you seem to have had," the hostess added, with
a musing air which Mr. Rayner did not relish.
"Didn't Fyson offer you tiffin?" asked Mr. Melford.
"He did not--most inhospitable, wasn't it?" said Mr. Rayner quickly,
assuming an injured air.
"Strange! I happen to know that the partners of Trueloves' always have
an ample table--covers for anybody who may turn up. In fact they're
reckoned most hospitable," said Mr. Melford, deciding that things had
evidently not turned out as his guest had expected. Conversation began
to flag, then Mr. Rayner remembered that he had letters to attend to.
"No, thanks," he said, declining his host's invitation to the smoking
room. "I've indulged in too many exciting cheroots to-day already"; and
with a light laugh he withdrew to his own room.
"Rayner's not in good form to-night," remarked his host.
"Oh, Jack, I can't suffer him! He's all 'form,' it seems to me. He
doesn't look a true man. I'm very sorry for his wife. Is he quite, quite
English, do you think? Did you notice his fingers, and there is surely
something oriental in those eyes of his, they're fine, but there's
something--I only noticed it since he came in to-night."
"Oh, well, he was born in this country. I have thought once or twice he
may have dark blood in him, but dear me, even if he has. There are many
excellent Eurasians! Much more sterling characters among them than he
seems to be turning out. He used to be a clever, amusing fellow, but it
strikes me from what Tresham said he's been spending too much, and that
demoralises a man, of course. Perhaps his wife is a butterfly--fond of
show!"
"Ah, there you are, the poor wife always gets the blame! Remember Mr.
Tresham said she was very charming and good. The same can't be said of
her husband, I fear," said Mrs. Melford, looking at her lord and master
with a glance of satisfaction.
Next morning Mrs. Melford could not help feeling a sense of relief when
her guest announced that he found he must at once return home--that more
than one case in the High Court claimed his presence.
That evening Alfred Rayner sailed down the Hoogly carrying his secret
with him on his way back to Madras.