That same Sunday afternoon Mrs. Chandos, having recovered from her
"seizure" went out into the front garden in order to "eat the air" in
solitude. The Trotters were also abroad, but she turned her back upon
them, and walked down the little drive and gazed along the road with
an expression of grim resentment. But what was this which she beheld
speeding towards her? A grey stepping horse, a dog-cart, and two
gentlemen--and at what a pace they came! Indeed, they were all but past
before the driver discovered her, and pulled the grey on his haunches.
"Oh, good day, Mrs. Chandos," said Captain Haig; "I am so awfully sorry
I was not able to come to tiffin. I was--prevented," here Jimmy gave
him an approving nudge, "from accepting your kind invitation."
"Aye, and so you have come to tea instead. All right, come in--come
in----"
"I am afraid we cannot wait, thank you."
"Oh, my! but why not? The girls are at home," and she put her hand on
the wheel of the cart as if she would detain them by physical force.
Captain Haig merely shook his head.
"And poor Verona will be _so_ disappointed," urged the persistent
matron.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Chandos," interposed Jimmy, leaning across, "but I
must really take him away. We have an important engagement."
"Ah, but here is Dominga!" cried her mother in a tone of triumph, as
Dom, in a French muslin costume, came flitting to the gate.
"You know my daughter, Dominga, Captain Haig?"
Dominga immediately took her mother's place, and began to converse with
Jimmy, whilst Mrs. Chandos stood aside and contemplated the scene with
a bursting heart. She had hoped for a mere captain, but here was "the
Honourable" talking away to Dom as if he had known her all his life!
And the Trotters were staring over the wall, like so many stuck pigs.
In another moment the grey horse had sprung forward, and the ecstatic
vision was swept from her contemplation. Still there yet remained
the Trotters! She turned herself about, looked at them with rude
significance, and nodded with imperial condescension. Who would
suppose, from her manner, that her neighbour was a close, intimate
friend of many years' standing, and had once nursed her like a sister,
when she and Nani were both down with jaundice?
No, no; she had forgotten all that. Those common Trotter people must be
taught their place, and with this determination Mrs. Chandos proceeded
indoors.
On Sunday evening the chaplain from Rajahpore held service in the
little conventicle at Manora; his congregation consisted of the sugar
people and a few native Christians. On this particular day Pussy and
Nicky were the sole representatives of the Chandos household. As Mrs.
Lepell and her nephew were walking homewards they overtook the pair.
"Pray what has become of Verona this evening?" inquired the lady.
"She has such a bad headache!"
"That is unusual. What has given it to her?"
"Crying, I think," replied the ever indiscreet Pussy. "She cried a lot
this afternoon."
"I hope she has not had bad news?"
"Oh, no--ah! but mother asked a friend of hers to lunch--that Captain
Haig--and he never came," announced Pussy, regardless of her brother's
angry nip. "And mother was so vexed."
"Poor Verona!" said Mrs. Lepell to herself, as they came to the gate of
the Chandos abode.
"Look here, Pussy, will you run in and ask your mother if you and
Verona may come over to dinner? It will cheer up your sister. Don't be
long, like a good girl."
As they waited, she turned to her nephew and said: "Poor girl, I
suppose he could not face them! Brian, what makes you look so solemn?"
"My sins and the sermon," he answered with a short laugh. "By the way,
Aunt Liz, I'm on the track of those jewels; I believe I've got a clue,
but mum's the word."
At this moment they were joined by Pussy, who panted out, "Thanks
awfully, Mrs. Lepell; we may both come."
At dinner that evening Verona was unusually white and silent. "So,"
said Salwey to himself, "she has been crying for that fellow. Little
she knows how Pussy let her namesake out of the bag."
The chief part of the conversation was sustained by Mr. Lepell and
Pussy, who, though a little daunted by the entrées and coloured wine
glasses, was much elated to find herself dining in the big house. Her
host noted how she was improved; she had ceased to giggle at the end
of every sentence, and was really quite a pretty girl, with her liquid
dark eyes, beautiful teeth and radiant smile.
Mr. Lepell was astonished when he realized that this sparkling,
happy-looking guest was only little Pussy Chandos! They were discussing
dreams, and during a lull in the talk her thin staccato tones were
heard saying: "Oh, I do dream such strange dreams! They seem so real!
Two or three times I dream of Dominga--always the same; she walks
through my room in her hat with a wrap on her arm--just as if she was
there. Last week I dreamt of her, and I called out, and she put her
finger on her lips and was gone. Now, what can it mean, do you think?"
One of the khidmutgars in waiting caught the eye of his mate. _They_
knew, but this by-play was lost on the company--with one exception.
"Did you tell your sister of these visions?" inquired Salwey.
"Oh, yes; and she said it was only nightmare. I think I had been having
too much curried fish--I'm awfully fond of curry; when I see curry I
must eat it."
"Now, Brian," said his aunt, "you have scarcely opened your lips--do
amuse us! What are you looking so glum about? If you are thinking of
the usurers, I will allow you to take a short canter on your hobby."
"It's nothing to joke about, Aunt Liz," rejoined Salwey, suddenly
rousing himself. "You know old Hirzat Sing--they have sold him up at
last!"
"Oh, no! Poor old fellow--he has been in difficulties for years!"
"Yes," assented her husband; "he borrowed money for his son's wedding,
and it was his ruin. His son is dead, and he has been getting
deeper and deeper into debt every year. A slave to the soil and the
money-lender--working from dawn to dark to keep himself and his wife
alive--and feed the daughter of the horse-leech."
"One would suppose he could throw off the yoke, and the strangling
hundred per cent., and go elsewhere," said Mrs. Lepell.
"He is too old," replied Salwey, "and he would say, 'Kahn
jaga?'--whither shall I go? He clings to his ancestral acres with the
extraordinary love of home, which is a passion in a Hindoo. There is a
saying, 'The rent is heavy, the debts are many, but still he loves his
field.' Now that Hirzat Sing is getting infirm and stiff, and his wife
is blind, he is of no further use to the soucar, who has thrust him
from his home, after making hundreds, aye, thousands of rupees out of
him. The original debt was but two hundred and fifty; now he will end
his days as a bazaar mendicant, after slaving for sixty years."
"This is very bad, Brian; can you do nothing?"
"I'm afraid not, Aunt Liz; poor old Hirzat Sing is in the grip of
Saloo--a notable money-lender known only to us by name; I believe he
lives in Poona, but his meshes are all over the district, and he does
his business secretly; he is the most fierce and rapacious of the whole
lot. Once or twice I've thought I had him. I believe from what I hear
that the wretch has no less than five hundred victims on his books--in
his web, I should say."
"Poor old Hirzat Sing!" said Mrs. Lepell. "I shall look him up
to-morrow. We could get him some job about the place, eh, Tom?"
"Yes, my dear; but already we are fairly well supplied with your
_protégés_."
"Don't be horrid, Tom. I have, and so have you, the greatest respect
for Hirzat Sing. He is one of Nature's noblemen."
"And I have to find him some job--such as weeding or sweeping--at five
rupees a month. Well, I'll do what I can."
"By the way, Miss Verona," turning to his silent, sad-faced guest, "I
saw in _The Times_ the death of a Chandos of Charne Hall. I believe
he's related to your father? I am not sure--but I think he is his
cousin."
"Oh my, yes; it must be father's cousin," burst in Pussy. "He never
speaks of him, but mother does; she says he was such--a--thief and a
budmash--he--ought to have been put in jail!"
"Pussy!" remonstrated her sister.
"If it is Sidney, it will make a great difference to your father,"
continued Mr. Lepell, addressing Verona.
"I don't believe anything would make any difference to him," then she
dropped her voice as she added the word "now."
"Dear me! How dull we have all been!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell. "I really
think we shall have to introduce the Chinese system of having little
slips of paper inscribed with jokes, which they solemnly hand to each
other during intervals in the conversation."
"I wish I could remember a few," said Salwey; "but they run in at
one ear and out at the other! I wonder if this would do? A certain
schoolboy was asked, 'Who was Titus?' 'Titus,' he promptly replied,
'was a gentleman who wrote a letter in the Bible. Then, as a Roman
general, he sacked Jerusalem. Subsequently, having adopted the name of
Oates, he headed an abominable insurrection.' How is that, Aunt Liz?"
"Much too historical and stupid," she said as she rose. "I suppose you
wished to drive us off, and therefore we depart. Good-bye!"
The three ladies were followed into the verandah by coffee and the men,
and Salwey, drawing up a low chair beside Verona, said:
"Did you ever see this pretty thing before?" As he spoke he dropped a
ring into her lap.
She picked it up and exclaimed, "I should think so--my long-lost
property! Where did you find it?"
"Can you swear to it?"
"I can do more, if necessary. I was in the shop when auntie bought
it--a black pearl, set in brilliants. I wanted all emeralds, but she
insisted. Look here," and she unpinned a plain, gold safety brooch, "do
you see this?"
In another moment her nimble fingers had unscrewed the cluster in the
ring, and screwed it into the brooch.
"There!" handing it back, and slipping the ring on her finger. "It
makes three separate articles--a ring, a brooch, and a bangle. Are you
convinced?"
"I am. May I have the brooch and ring? And I must ask you to swear to
your property before Uncle Tom, who is a magistrate."
"Very well, though I feel slightly alarmed; it sounds so formal--and as
if I had been breaking the law."
"Do you know that you have done an immense service, for you have not
only given me a clue to the recovery of your jewels. This," holding up
the safety-pin, "will get a notorious evil-doer two years' hard labour,
with a shorn head, and chains, in Rajahpore jail. Now, I wish you could
put me on the track of Saloo, the money-lender!"