II

I anticipated no difficulty, and encountered none. The _Gazette_ of

January, 1815, announced that David Marie Joseph Mackenzie, gentleman,

had been appointed to an ensigncy in the --th Regiment of Infantry

(Moray Highlanders); and I timed my letter of congratulation to reach

him with the news. Within a week he had joined us at Inverness, and

was made welcome.

I may say at once that during his brief period of service I could find

no possible fault with his bearing as a soldier. From the first he

took seriously to the calling of arms, and not only showed himself

punctual on parade and in all the small duties of barracks, but

displayed, in his reserved way, a zealous resolve to master whatever

by book or conversation could be learned of the higher business of

war. My junior officers--though when the test came, as it soon did,

they acquitted themselves most creditably--showed, as a whole, just

then no great promise. For the most part they were young lairds, like

Mr. Mackenzie, or cadets of good Highland families; but, unlike him,

they had been allowed to run wild, and chafed under harness. One or

two of them had the true Highland addiction to card-playing; and

though I set a pretty stern face against this curse--as I dare to call

it--its effects were to be traced in late hours, more than one case of

shirking "rounds," and a general slovenliness at morning parade.

In such company Mr. Mackenzie showed to advantage, and I soon began to

value him as a likely officer. Nor, in my dissatisfaction with them,

did it give me any uneasiness--as it gave me no surprise--to find

that his brother-officers took less kindly to him. He kept a certain

reticence of manner, which either came of a natural shyness or had

been ingrained in him at the Roman Catholic seminary. He was poor,

too; but poverty did not prevent his joining in all the regimental

amusements, figuring modestly but sufficiently on the subscription

lists, and even taking a hand at cards for moderate stakes. Yet he

made no headway, and his popularity diminished instead of growing.

All this I noted, but without discovering any definite reason. Of his

professional promise, on the other hand, there could be no question;

and the men liked and respected him.

Our senior ensign at this date was a Mr. Urquhart, the eldest son of a

West Highland laird, and heir to a considerable estate. He had been

in barracks when Mr. Mackenzie joined; but a week later his father's

sudden illness called for his presence at home, and I granted him a

leave of absence, which was afterwards extended. I regretted this, not

only for the sad occasion, but because it deprived the battalion for a

time of one of its steadiest officers, and Mr. Mackenzie in particular

of the chance to form a very useful friendship. For the two young men

had (I thought) several qualities which might well attract them each

to the other, and a common gravity of mind in contrast with their

companions' prevalent and somewhat tiresome frivolity. Of the two I

Judged Mr. Urquhart (the elder by a year) to have the more stable

character. He was a good-looking, dark-complexioned young Highlander,

with a serious expression which, without being gloomy, did not

escape a touch of melancholy. I should judge this melancholy of Mr.

Urquhart's constitutional, and the boyish sullenness which lingered on

Mr. Mackenzie's equally handsome face to have been imposed rather by

circumstances.

Mr. Urquhart rejoined us on the 24th of February. Two days later, as

all the world knows, Napoleon made his escape from Elba; and the next

week or two made it certain not only that the allies must fight, but

that the British contingent must be drawn largely, if not in the main,

from the second battalions then drilling up and down the country. The

29th of March brought us our marching orders; and I will own that,

while feeling no uneasiness about the great issue, I distrusted the

share my raw youngsters were to take in it.

On the 12th of April we were landed at Ostend, and at once marched up

to Brussels, where we remained until the middle of June, having been

assigned to the 5th (Picton's) Division of the Reserve. For some

reason the Highland regiments had been massed into the Reserve, and

were billeted about the capital, our own quarters lying between the

92nd (Gordons) and General Kruse's Nassauers, whose lodgings stretched

out along the Louvain road; and although I could have wished some

harder and more responsible service to get the Morays into training, I

felt what advantage they derived from rubbing shoulders with the fine

fellows of the 42nd, 79th, and 92nd, all First Battalions toughened

by Peninsular work. The gaieties of life in Brussels during these two

months have been described often enough; but among the military they

were chiefly confined to those officers whose means allowed them to

keep the pace set by rich civilians, and the Morays played the part of

amused spectators. Yet the work and the few gaieties which fell to our

share, while adding to our experiences, broke up to some degree the

old domestic habits of the battalion. Excepting on duty I saw less of

Mr. Mackenzie and thought less about him; he might be left now to be

shaped by active service. But I was glad to find him often in company

with Mr. Urquhart.

I come now to the memorable night of June 15th, concerning which and

the end it brought upon the festivities of Brussels so much has been

written. All the world has heard of the Duchess of Richmond's ball,

and seems to conspire in decking it out with pretty romantic fables.

To contradict the most of these were waste of time; but I may point

out (1) that the ball was over and, I believe, all the company

dispersed, before the actual alarm awoke the capital; and (2) that all

responsible officers gathered there shared the knowledge that such

an alarm was impending, might arrive at any moment, and would almost

certainly arrive within a few hours. News of the French advance across

the frontier and attack on General Zieten's outposts had reached

Wellington at three o'clock that afternoon. It should have been

brought five hours earlier; but he gave his orders at once, and

quietly, and already our troops were massing for defence upon

Nivelles. We of the Reserve had secret orders to hold ourselves

prepared. Obedient to a hint from their Commander-in-chief, the

generals of division and brigade who attended the Duchess' ball

withdrew themselves early on various pleas. Her Grace had honoured

me with an invitation, probably because I represented a Highland

regiment; and Highlanders (especially the Gordons, her brother's

regiment) were much to the fore that night with reels, flings, and

strathspeys. The many withdrawals warned me that something was in the

wind, and after remaining just so long as seemed respectful, I took

leave of my hostess and walked homewards across the city as the clocks

were striking eleven.

We of the Morays had our headquarters in a fairly large building--the

Hôtel de Liège--in time of peace a resort of _commis-voyageurs_ of

the better class. It boasted a roomy hall, out of which opened two

coffee-rooms, converted by us into guard- and mess-room. A large

drawing-room on the first floor overlooking the street served me for

sleeping as well as working quarters, and to reach it I must pass the

_entresol_, where a small apartment had been set aside for occasional

uses. We made it, for instance, our ante-room, and assembled there

before mess; a few would retire there for smoking or card-playing;

during the day it served as a waiting-room for messengers or any one

whose business could not be for the moment attended to.

I had paused at the entrance to put some small question to the sentry,

when I heard the crash of a chair in this room, and two voices broke

out in fierce altercation. An instant after, the mess-room door

opened, and Captain Murray, without observing me, ran past me and

up the stairs. As he reached the _entresol_, a voice--my

brother's--called down from an upper landing, and demanded, "What's

wrong there?"

"I don't know, Major," Captain Murray answered, and at the same moment

flung the door open. I was quick on his heels, and he wheeled round in

some surprise at my voice, and to see me interposed between him and

my brother, who had come running downstairs, and now stood behind my

shoulder in the entrance.

"Shut the door," I commanded quickly. "Shut the door, and send away

any one you may hear outside. Now, gentlemen, explain yourselves,

please."

Mr. Urquhart and Mr. Mackenzie faced each other across a small table,

from which the cloth had been dragged and lay on the floor with a

scattered pack of cards. The elder lad held a couple of cards in his

hand; he was white in the face.

"He cheated!" He swung round upon me in a kind of indignant fury, and

tapped the cards with his forefinger.

I looked from him to the accused. Mackenzie's face was dark, almost

purple, rather with rage (as it struck me) than with shame.

"It's a lie." He let out the words slowly, as if holding rein on his

passion. "Twice he's said so, and twice I've called him a liar." He

drew back for an instant, and then lost control of himself. "If that's

not enough--." He leapt forward, and almost before Captain Murray

could interpose had hurled himself upon Urquhart. The table between

them went down with a crash, and Urquhart went staggering back from a

blow which just missed his face and took him on the collar-bone before

Murray threw both arms around the assailant.

"Mr. Mackenzie," said I, "you will consider yourself under arrest. Mr.

Urquhart, you will hold yourself ready to give me a full explanation.

Whichever of you may be in the right, this is a disgraceful business,

and dishonouring to your regiment and the cloth you wear: so

disgraceful, that I hesitate to call up the guard and expose it to

more eyes than ours. If Mr. Mackenzie"--I turned to him again--"can

behave himself like a gentleman, and accept the fact of his arrest

without further trouble, the scandal can at least be postponed until

I discover how much it is necessary to face. For the moment, sir, you

are in charge of Captain Murray. Do you understand?"

He bent his head sullenly. "He shall fight me, whatever happens," he

muttered.

I found it wise to pay no heed to this. "It will be best," I said to

Murray, "to remain here with Mr. Mackenzie until I am ready for him.

Mr. Urquhart may retire to his quarters, if he will--I advise it,

indeed--but I shall require his attendance in a few minutes. You

understand," I added significantly, "that for the present this affair

remains strictly between ourselves." I knew well enough that, for all

the King's regulations, a meeting would inevitably follow sooner or

later, and will own I looked upon it as the proper outcome, between

gentlemen, of such a quarrel. But it was not for me, their Colonel, to

betray this knowledge or my feelings, and by imposing secrecy I put

off for the time all the business of a formal challenge with seconds.

So I left them, and requesting my brother to follow me, mounted to my

own room. The door was no sooner shut than I turned on him.

"Surely," I said, "this is a bad mistake of Urquhart's? It's an

incredible charge. From all I've seen of him, the lad would never be

guilty ..." I paused, expecting his assent. To my surprise he did not

give it, but stood fingering his chin and looking serious.

"I don't know," he answered unwillingly. "There are stories against

him."

"What stories?"

"Nothing definite." My brother hesitated. "It doesn't seem fair to him

to repeat mere whispers. But the others don't like him."

"Hence the whispers, perhaps. They have not reached me."

"They would not. He is known to be a favourite of yours. But they

don't care to play with him." My brother stopped, met my look, and

answered it with a shrug of the shoulders, adding, "He wins pretty

constantly."

"Any definite charge before to-night's?"

"No: at least, I think not. But Urquhart may have been put up to

watch."

"Fetch him up, please," said I promptly; and seating myself at the

writing-table I lit candles (for the lamp was dim), made ready the

writing materials and prepared to take notes of the evidence.

Mr. Urquhart presently entered, and I wheeled round in my chair to

confront him. He was still exceedingly pale--paler, I thought, than I

had left him. He seemed decidedly ill at ease, though not on his own

account. His answer to my first question made me fairly leap in my

chair.

"I wish," he said, "to qualify my accusation of Mr. Mackenzie. That he

cheated I have the evidence of my own eyes; but I am not sure how far

he knew he was cheating."

"Good heavens, sir!" I cried. "Do you know you have accused that young

man of a villainy which must damn him for life? And now you tell me--"

I broke off in sheer indignation.

"I know," he answered quietly. "The noise fetched you in upon us on

the instant, and the mischief was done."

"Indeed, sir," I could not avoid sneering, "to most of us it would

seem that the mischief was done when you accused a brother-officer of

fraud to his face."

He seemed to reflect. "Yes, sir," he assented slowly; "it is done. I

saw him cheat: that I must persist in; but I cannot say how far he was

conscious of it. And since I cannot, I must take the consequences."

"Will you kindly inform us how it is possible for a player to cheat

and not know that he is cheating?"

He bent his eyes on the carpet as if seeking an answer. It was long in

coming. "No," he said at last, in a slow, dragging tone, "I cannot."

"Then you will at least tell us exactly what Mr. Mackenzie did."

Again there was a long pause. He looked at me straight, but with

hopelessness in his eyes. "I fear you would not believe me. It would

not be worth while. If you can grant it, sir, I would ask time to

decide."

"Mr. Urquhart," said I sternly, "are you aware you have brought

against Mr. Mackenzie a charge under which no man of honour can

live easily for a moment? You ask me without a word of evidence in

substantiation to keep him in torture while I give you time. It is

monstrous, and I beg to remind you that, unless your charge is proved,

you can--and will--be broken for making it."

"I know it, sir," he answered firmly enough; "and because I knew it, I

asked--perhaps selfishly--for time. If you refuse, I will at least ask

permission to see a priest before telling a story which I can scarcely

expect you to believe." Mr. Urquhart too was a Roman Catholic.

But my temper for the moment was gone. "I see little chance," said

I, "of keeping this scandal secret, and regret it the less if the

consequences are to fall on a rash accuser. But just now I will have

no meddling priest share the secret. For the present, one word more.

Had you heard before this evening of any hints against Mr. Mackenzie's

play?"