Church parade was over, and quiet reigned in the camp of the Fourth
Battalion Blankshire Regiment, which was undergoing its annual training
at Aldershot.
A young man in civilian clothes sat at breakfast in the officers' mess-
tent. He was a visitor and guest, who had no obligation to early
rising, so he lay snug till the band, marching the Church of Englanders
off at nine o'clock, roused him and then performed a leisurely toilet.
And now he, the subaltern of the day, and the officer who was to take
the Roman Catholics, had the tent to themselves. The former was some
distance off, the latter sat next to him.
"I came only just in time for mess yesterday, so we had no opportunity
for a private chat," said the one in plain clothes. "But I have a lot
to say to you."
"Well, look here," replied the other, "my parade is at eleven; the dress
bugle has just gone for it. I shall be back by half-past twelve. Then
we will have lunch and go for a walk, you, I, and Strachan, if you
like."
"I should like it very much, though how you can expect me to eat lunch
after such a breakfast as this at such a late hour, I cannot imagine."
"Oh, the air here is wonderful for the appetite. Not like London and
Egypt, which seem to be your haunts."
"And the unaccountable disappearance of this will of uncle Richard's,
Kavanagh, has it put you in a very big hole?"
"Not just yet. The dear old man felt himself failing, and thought he
might forget me as weeks went on. So, instead of sending a quarterly
cheque, he paid my allowance for the whole year into the agent's hands.
So kind and thoughtful of him, was it not? But for the future, of
course, it will be rather awkward for me if the will does not turn up.
I go in directly after the training for the Competitive Examination, and
so does Strachan. We have both passed the Preliminary, and shall have
served our two trainings. Well, if I pass, it will be hard enough to
live on my pay, but I must get into the Indian or Gold Coast Services,
and try it that way. If I don't succeed, why then I have no idea what
to do next. At least, I have an idea, but there is no need to think it
out till the necessity comes."
"What do you think of your chance?"
"Well, my coach thinks it doubtful. He has known fellows get their
commissions who were worse up than I am, and he has known fellows fail
who were better up than I am. It depends on the lot of competitors, and
also on their quality, and a little bit on luck. There is a good bit of
luck in having the questions you have crammed set, you know."
"I can imagine there must be. And how about Strachan?"
"Well, if he has not got a good bit in hand, I am not in it, that's all.
He could give me a hundred marks and a beating. However, I fancy that
he must be safe. But there is the Fall-in; I must be off."
As Kavanagh left the tent Strachan came into it.
"Well, old fellow, and how did you sleep?" he asked.
"Not badly," said Forsyth. "I fancy? Should have been still at it but
for that big drum of yours."
"Hush! It is lucky the Colonel is not here. Never speak of the big
drum in that irreverent tone to him, I pray. It would well-nigh give
him a fit. The big drum is his fetish, though he nearly smashed it
himself last year."
"How was that?"
"We were out on the Queen's Birthday, and had to fire a _feu de joie_.
Rattle up the front rank, rattle down the rear rank, three times, you
know. The horses hate it, and the chief had a young one who did not
like ordinary firing very well, though he had got him in hand for that.
But the roll was too much for the gee's nerves; he went wild with
terror, bolted slap through the band, and finally reared up till he
rolled over. It looked as if the Colonel was under him, and those who
went to help thought him smashed. But he got up, and said, with a face
of intense anxiety--
"`Is the big drum safe?' But, I say, how jolly it is to meet you again,
old fellow. Don't you remember that last evening at Harton, we said we
were sure to meet, we three; and here we are, you see. But, I say, this
is a bad story for Kavanagh about this will being missing, is it not?
Bad for you, too, though. Your mother was in it, was she not?"
"Yes; but as the testator's sister she will come in for something,
probably, anyhow. True, it is mostly land, and I believe an uncle
abroad will inherit that. But I don't know the legal rights of the
matter yet quite. Anyhow, she has something of her own, and I have
learned how to get work and earn my bread by it. So all round it is
worse for Kavanagh. What is his chance of passing?"
"Not very good, I fear," said Strachan. "I don't feel safe, and I have
read more than he has. And he is such a good fellow! He was awfully
sorry about Mr Burke's death, but made no trouble whatever of the
missing will. That is, of course, he thought the prospect of being
penniless a great bore, but he never got into low spirits, or worried
others about it. And with his tastes and ideas, too!"
"Yes," said Harry; "fellows at Harton used to think him a tremendous
swell. And those who did not know him were apt to take a prejudice
against him. `Lady Kavanagh' some called him, you remember. But we
must have a long talk, we three, for my time is short; I must go back
to-morrow. Kavanagh proposed a walk after lunch."
"Certainly, if you like. We generally walk over to Farnham on a fine
Sunday afternoon: where the bishop's palace is."
"I know. I have often heard of Farnham, and should like to see it,"
said Harry. And others coming in, the conversation became general.
Then lunch time arrived, and was on the table very punctually, though
Harry did not want anything. But with the majority, who had breakfasted
before eight, it was different. Kavanagh came in ready dressed for the
walk, and expressed impatience at Strachan being still in uniform.
"I have got to pay my company," explained Strachan; "but I shall do it
directly the dinners are over, and then it won't take me five minutes to
change." And he was as good as his word, for by a quarter to two he was
ready to start.
It was a fine afternoon and a pretty walk; round the end of the Long
Valley by Cocked Hat Wood, skirting the steeple-chase course; through
shady lanes to the wild furze-clad common land; up the sides of the hill
range, where the old Roman encampments can still be clearly traced.
"This one looks precious modern," said Harry, doubtfully.
"Oh, the engineers may have been digging about a bit. And this
certainly is a modern shelter trench. There are battles fought here,
you know, whenever the generals are too lazy to go as far as the Fox
Hills," said Strachan, irreverently.
"But look at the view. Over there to the left, where you see the queer-
shaped black wood, is Sir Walter Scott's novel--what's his name: the
first one and the least interesting; at least, I could never get through
it."
"Waverley," said Kavanagh. "Don't expose your ignorance and want of
taste, Strachan. You could not see the abbey if we went there, Forsyth,
or else I should have proposed it. But the grass is not cut yet, and
till it is no one may go to the ruins. That is Farnham Park below us.
Yonder is the Hog's Back."
A pretty road led them down to the park paling, which they skirted till
they came to a ladder stile, which they crossed into the park, close to
the solid old-world walls and towers of the bishop's castle.
"What splendid trees!" cried Harry, as the three old friends settled
themselves comfortably under one of them. "I don't know when I have
seen such beeches."
"Very condescending of you to admire anything in England, such a
traveller as you have been," said Strachan. "And you have been to
Egypt? I envy you; I have always longed to see Egypt."
"There are more unlikely things than that when you are in the Line.
Things are not settled there yet."
"Why, Arabi's insurrection is completely quelled, and he is a prisoner.
And the Government will have nothing to do with the Soudan business,
they say."
"Who is _they_? One set of _theys_ say so, and another set of _theys_
say we can't help having to do with it, let the Quakers say what they
will. For my part, I hope all will be quiet," said Forsyth.
"Quiet!" cried Strachan. "Why, if there is no war there will be fewer
vacancies, and I am less likely to get my commission in the Line!"
"Modest youth! So you want some tens of thousands of fellow-creatures
to be slaughtered, palms and fruit-trees to be destroyed, and a whole
country made desolate and miserable for years, and millions upon
millions of pounds drained from the British tax-payer, in order that you
may get your commission with a little less trouble! You remind me of
the reasonable prayer in the poem--
"`Oh, gods! Annihilate both Time and Space
To make two lovers happy.'"
"Oh, bother! I don't look so deep into things as that," said Strachan;
"I can't declare a war, and I would not take the responsibility if I
could; but if it comes and does me good, I can't help liking it. It is
like winning a wager--I am sorry the other chap should lose, but I am
consoled by the reflection that I win."
"Exactly," said Harry; "and I strongly expect that I should lose by any
disturbance in the Soudan, and that Kavanagh would too. It is a long
story; but you are such an old friend that it won't bore you, Strachan,
though it does not concern you personally. You both know all about the
will and its mysterious disappearance, so I need not recapitulate that.
Well, I have been to Ireland and seen the lawyers--Burrows and Fagan. I
could not make much of Burrows, who is a duffer; but Fagan has his wits
about. He had never had to do with that branch of the business, but now
the credit of the firm was at stake he busied himself in making
searching and pertinent inquiry. A sharpish boy-clerk was certain that
the will was left at the office, and kept in the Burke deed box in the
late Mr Burrows' time; and, when closely pressed and questioned, the
present Burrows recalled having seen it there since he came into the
partnership. Then the question arose--Who could profit by its
disappearance? The answer was, if a former will were in existence,
Philipson--my uncle's son-in-law, who was his original heir--would. But
the old will is not forthcoming either, and Philipson is done both ways,
for he neither gets the property left him by the first will, nor the
allowance secured to him by the second. Indeed, he is barely existing
on small sums advanced him by a speculative solicitor on the chance of
one of the wills turning up. I saw a lot of Philipson: such a jolly
nose--like a big red truffle. He said he was certain the late head
clerk--a chap of Egyptian or Arab extraction, named Daireh--had got the
will, or wills, having abstracted them after my uncle's death, because
he had hinted at being able to tell him how to find them, and had
appointed the Sunday to meet him, but had failed to keep tryst, and had
disappeared. All this had to be wormed out of Philipson, who spoke very
reluctantly at first. And I suspect he is as big a rascal as the other,
and was in a plot with him to destroy will Number 2, and prove will
Number 1, only the other would not trust him, but wanted money down.
The reason he did not keep his appointment is evident, for the police
wanted him for forgery about a fortnight later, and of course he had
found out that he was discovered, and made tracks at once without
waiting to come to terms with Philipson. The police have tried to track
him everywhere without hitting on a ghost of a clue beyond London, from
which place a letter was sent to his employers. But I know the
direction in which to look for him."
"You do?" cried Kavanagh, much interested.
"Yes. The ugly beggar was vain, and liked being photographed, so there
were lots of his likenesses extant. I was certain I knew the face from
the first, and I soon was able to associate it with that of a fellow I
passed on the Nile just above the Second Cataract. He was going up, and
I was coming down, and I did not see very much of him; but I would swear
to his ugly face anywhere."
"And you heard where he was going?" asked Strachan.
"Yes, to Berber. And I know natives who know him, so I have a good
chance of tracking him; and if he don't produce the will he shall eat
stick."
"Let him eat a little stick, as you poetically call it, even if he
_does_ produce the will. I think a hundred on his feet, or any suitable
portion of his person, might have a good moral influence upon him," said
Kavanagh. "Oh, to have the handling of the bamboo!"
"We have got to catch the beggar first," said Harry.
"And are you going after him really?" said Kavanagh.
"Or are you only chaffing? It seems a wild goose chase."
"Yes, I am going," said Harry; "and I think better of our chances than
you seem to do. In the first place, I have picked up a smattering of
Arabic, and that is a help; and then I have friends who can give me
recommendations to the Egyptian authorities in any town which is held
for the Khedive on the Upper Nile, and I am pretty confident I can make
them help me."
"But suppose this fellow has not got the will, or has destroyed it, or
has hidden it somewhere, and won't tell?"
"That would be hard lines for you, Kavanagh, and I hope better things.
But even in that case it would not follow that my journey would be
useless to myself. I have got a crazy uncle, a brother of uncle
Richard, who is heir-at-law if a will is not forthcoming. He has turned
Mohammedan, and lives like an Arab, and I believe has considerable
authority amongst them. He was in England the last Christmas we were at
Harton, and I saw him in the holidays, and he gave me directions how to
find him if ever I wanted, for he took a fancy to me, and wanted me to
go and live as he does. With all his eccentricity, he has a strong love
for his sister--that is my mother, you know--and if he could be told
that his brother was dead, and that he had made a will in his sister's
favour which had been stolen, by which means he had become heir to the
Irish property, I am convinced he would try to do something to set
matters straight. Anyhow, it is worth trying."
"Rather!" said Kavanagh. "And if the country is in insurrection, and
barred against Egyptians and European travellers, your relative's pass
may enable you to get at Master Cream--Butter--what's his name?"
"Daireh."
"Ah, yes; I knew it had something to do with a dairy--to get at him,
after all."
"By Jove, what an enterprising chap you are, Forsyth!" cried Strachan.
"You deserve to succeed, I am sure."
"He does; and I heartily hope he will, for if he does not find the will,
I shall have to forego all the comforts of life, at least, all I know
of, for I daresay I shall find others. Now periwinkles may be a
comfort, but what I shudder at is the idea of dirty linen. Not to have
a clean shirt every day! It is quite too awful to think of. I am sure
I wish you speedy and complete success, and that you may eat salt with
the Arabs, and put some on Daireh's tail. That is how the Nubians catch
their prisoners, Strachan."
"And when do you start?" asked Strachan, a great deal too much
interested to listen to Kavanagh's nonsense.
"On Wednesday," replied Harry, "that is why I cannot stop to-morrow to
benefit by your hospitality. I must go in the morning pretty early."
"I'm off to Berber early in the morning,
I'm off to Berber, a little while to stay,"
chanted the incorrigible Kavanagh, getting on to his feet. "Catchee
Dairy, or no catchee Dairy, Forsyth has got to see the old town of
Farnham, and walk home by road, and get there comfortably for dinner.
So come on. I am sure Forsyth must want to rest his tongue a bit and
give his eyes a turn."
They left the park, and went down into the town by the steps beneath the
palace; and so through the broad street with the restored houses, the
bank and others, the inhabitants of which ought to wear coifs and
pinners, knickerbockers and doublets, and where tall black hats should
be unknown; then into the main street, past the Workhouse, which has a
letter-box soliciting books and newspapers for the amusement of the
paupers, and so back to camp.
Each of the three recalled that Sunday walk often and often in after
years, with a pleasure which those who have formed school friendships,
and met those they had "conned" with after several, yet not too many,
years' absence, will understand. They talked no more of Forsyth's
adventurous journey, or the imminent examination lowering over Strachan
and Kavanagh. No, the future was banished from their thoughts, which
were full of the past. Their talk, indeed, on the way home, would have
been a terrible infliction upon an outsider, had one been of the
company.
"I say, do you remember Baum major?"
"Rather."
"Don't you remember when he thought he was sent up for good, and he
wasn't, and his face when he found out that old Williams had smelt his
jacket of tobacco smoke?"
"I remember!"
And then a roar of laughter, the joke being only known to the three, but
needing no further elucidation for them. For every period of every
public school has its jokes, which are no jokes to any human being
unconnected with that time and place, but to those who are so connected
are a subject of life-long enjoyment.
When they got back to camp each felt that one of the happiest days of
his life was drawing to a close. At mess that evening the Adjutant
announced that the Commander-in-Chief was coming down next morning, and
there would be a Field Day on the Fox Hills. They were to be brigaded
at half-past five, so the "Fall-in" would be at five.
"We are sure to be back about one," said Strachan to Harry later in the
evening. "You can wait till then, and have lunch."
"No, thank you," said Harry; "I have a lot to do before I start, and
cannot spare another day. Besides, it would not be fair to my mother.
I should have gone off early in the morning anyhow; not so early,
indeed, as you march, but by nine; so it makes no difference in my
plans, you see."
"Well, we shall breakfast at four; there is no need for you to disturb
yourself then. Get up at your own time, and order what you like, you
know."
"Thanks, you may trust me," said Harry. "But I shall see you off."
Those overnight resolutions do not always find fulfilment in the
morning. But when the companies were told off and equalised, and only
waiting for the Adjutant to call out the markers and form the parade,
Harry Forsyth emerged from the spare tent kept for guests, and went to
the reverse flank to give his two old chums a final hand-grip. Then the
Colonel appeared and mounted his horse, and they had to fall in. And
the band struck up, and the battalion trickled away, till the rear
company was clear of the ground, and Harry found himself alone.
"Poor old Kavanagh!" he murmured. "Strachan does not matter half so
much. If he gets spun he has two more chances; and if he fails to get
into the Line, then his friends have money and interest to start him in
something else. But Kavanagh can't stop on in the Militia, or pay a
tutor another six months, and it is neck or nothing with him. If I find
the will it will put him square; but what is he to do till then?"
Ruminating in this way, Harry returned to his tent and lay down again
for a couple of hours. Then he tubbed and dressed, and had a
comfortable breakfast all by himself; for he was too experienced a
traveller by this to let melancholy partings spoil his appetite.
He was in town by eleven, getting what was wanted to complete his modest
outfit, and at the Sheen cottage with his mother and sister in time for
their early dinner.
They were a thoroughly happy trio, for whatever interested one of them
became at once equally interesting to the others, and so Harry could
have his talk out about the friends he had just parted from without fear
of boring any one.
It was a great sorrow to Mrs Forsyth that her son should be going back
to Egypt so soon. She had hoped that the anxiety she had suffered
during his former absence was at an end, at least, for some considerable
time.
"If his constitution were but settled," she said, "I should not so much
mind; but he is not quite nineteen yet."
And Beatrice tried to be cheerful, and make light of it, but she was
sorely disappointed also.