INTERLOPERS
"SEE what a magnet you are!" cried Sir Capel, striking a comic attitude
as Angel descended the path towards him—the other travellers had
passed on unconscious of her vicinity.
"Am I? I was not aware of it before," she said. "Sir Capel Tudor, let
me introduce Mr. Brady, my husband's assistant."
"—who is worked to death," he supplemented with a grin and a bow.
"You do not appear to be in any immediate danger," rejoined Sir Capel,
pointing derisively to the butterfly net, "is it very laborious?"
"Oh, merely an hour off duty. What has brought you out to the back of
beyond?"
"An all-consuming curiosity," replied the little traveller, addressing
himself particularly to Angel. "I've been hearing no end about the
flood that is to be, and will be, the sight of the century, and I am
mad keen to see it."
"But why?"
"A great lake bursting from its prison at a stated hour. The telegraph
bell rings, and half a province is instantly inundated. That's about
it? So here I am."
"So I see," said Angel. "But what has brought Mrs. Waldershare and the
general?"
"She came because she required a complete change, and wanted to be with
you—she's awfully fond of you, you know. And the general is here
for the diametrically opposite cause to that which has brought me. He
swears it's all a mare's nest, and has come to see what will _not_
happen, and to crow."
"Rather a long journey to undertake to see nothing," remarked Mr. Brady
drily, "and I think his crow will turn into a cackle. I wonder where
the dickens you're all going to live. We are a tight fit as it is, and
there's a lot of rain coming—you won't care about a tent?"
"I don't care where you stick me, I'm not particular. When do you think
the great water-shoot will come off?"
"Within the next two days, according to the Colonel's calculation.
He has gone twenty miles down the Alakanda valley to-day, to inspect
the preparations; bridges have been dismantled, the canal protected,
villages cleared out, cattle driven off—and all is ready."
"Did you bring any letters, or papers, or news?" inquired Angel, who
had been puzzling her brains as to how these three newcomers were to be
lodged and fed.
"No, I believe the general has a couple of papers. By the way," and
his merry face became grave, "there _is_ a bit of news—bad news at
that—you remember Hailes?"
"Captain Hailes? Why, of course I do."
"Well, he has been awfully down on his luck lately, severe financial
crisis, talked of losing his commission, and all that. I thought it was
just a touch of liver; I'd no idea he was really so hard up."
"Old Hailes likes to gamble a bit," remarked Mr. Brady.
"Poor chap, he will gamble no more. Last Monday he went out to the
Tarani dâk bungalow, saying he was going to shoot shicor, and, by
George," and the round merry eyes looked tragic, "he shot himself."
"How frightful," said Angel, pausing aghast, "accidental, of course."
"No," shaking his head, "on purpose. It seems he had been playing high
and lost his last shilling, and had not the courage to begin life at
the foot of the ladder. He left a note for his mother, and one for Mrs.
Waldershare, which she destroyed. They asked for it at the inquest, but
she said it was private and most painful. Chotah-Bilat is enormously
exercised. Mrs. Waldershare feels the business terribly, she knew him
so well; you see, he was a sort of connection—that is partly what
brought her here, to get away from the talk—and the—place. She is all
right on the march, and has picked up, and been quite cheerful. Indeed,
to hear the general squabbling with his coolies over a few annas was
enough to make a cat laugh. But mind you don't breathe a word—about
Hailes."
"You may be sure I won't," she answered emphatically.
"I'm glad I caught sight of you," continued Sir Capel in a confidential
undertone, "and was able to give you this hint about Lola. She's
awfully cut up. By Jove! women do say beastly things of one another.
They have all got their knives in her just because she's so much better
looking than themselves."
By this time the party were descending the hill to the encampment, and
had overtaken the other travellers, who appeared to imagine that their
visit was not merely welcome, but to be accepted in the light of an
immense condescension. Mr. Brady, who was acting host in the absence
of his senior officer, was immediately enslaved by the charming widow
and her magical eyes. With such eyes, the gift of speech was almost
superfluous.
"I wish I knew where to put you?" he said, helplessly, as soon as they
had partaken of an excellent lunch. "Mrs. Waldershare, you are most
welcome to my tent, and all my worldly goods."
"Oh, I hate a tent," she answered, ungratefully; "it's always so dark,
I can never see to do my hair. The general finds that there are two
capital quarters side by side about a hundred yards lower down."
"Yes," he added, "I took a look at them just now, not at all
bad—temporary wooden huts, apparently new and clean. Mrs. Waldershare
will have one, I'll occupy the other. Sir Capel prefers a tent. We
don't expect spring beds and electric light on the borders of Thibet."
"If we get the common necessaries, we consider ourselves lucky,"
said Angel; "supplies are so scarce, and there are hardly any tracks
passable for ponies. Those two huts were erected by mistake before
Philip came here, and are considered much too near the possible
flood-mark to be safe. They have been condemned."
The general laughed disagreeably, and said: "My dear lady, the water
won't come within a hundred feet of them, even on the most imbecile
computation, and I shall have my things moved down at once, and yours,"
turning to Mrs. Waldershare.
Mr. Brady opened his mouth to remonstrate, but the general, armed
with the decision acquired by years of authority, silenced him by a
gesture. As General Bothwell herded a tribe of clamorous coolies in the
direction of these two somewhat tempting asylums, Mr. Brady turned to
Angel, and said:
"It's no good my talking to the old boy; but when the Colonel comes
back, he will soon 'haunk' him out of that. There was a lot of rain
last night, and the water is within twelve feet of the top."
"I think you had better share my hut," said Angel to her lady guest;
"it will be a squeeze, but those below are considered dangerous—at
least Philip says so."
"Don't you think he is fidgety, and bothers too much about things,"
rejoined Lola, who in her secret heart had a profound contempt for a
man she had hoodwinked, and rated his intellect at a far lower value
than her own, since her French fables, and her tenacious memory of the
dates of the English sovereigns had been, in schooldays, superior to
his.
"No, no; I'll go and explore, dear, and do you come with me, and help
me to settle in." In a few minutes three figures might have been seen
scrambling down to a ledge far below the camp—Mrs. Waldershare, Angel,
and her ayah, laden with pillows, rugs, and bags. The "Interlopers,"
as Mr. Brady termed them, had brought (as is usual all over the Bengal
Presidency) their own bedding, also tiffin baskets, spirit lamps, and
Indiarubber baths, and by the time that Colonel Gascoigne and his staff
rode up to the Government rest-house, the strangers were already footed
in the camp, and flowered forth at the dinner-table. Philip, who was
tired after a rough ride of forty miles, and a brain-exhausting day,
at first received the intelligence of the invasion with exasperating
incredulity; but when he heard the general's rasping voice, and Sir
Capel's reckless laugh, he realised that Angel, his wife, was not
jesting, but in deadly earnest.
Then he asked himself angrily if it was not enough to have all the
strain of this unique and imminent catastrophe laid upon his shoulders,
and to have to make arrangements for the feeding and shelter of
about fifty fellow-workers, but to be saddled now, at the eleventh
hour, with three useless sightseers? Indeed, the general was not a
mere placid spectator, he was a most malignant critic, who wrote
his own impressions to the papers, both local and otherwise. That
evening, at dinner, eleven souls were crammed round the little dâk
bungalow tables, two joined together, and even in this place, on the
confines of civilisation, Angel was compelled to respect the order of
"precedence"—the general sat next her—as his right—and Lola was
placed at her host's right hand.
"Oh, Philip, we have made ourselves so comfy," she remarked, playfully;
"I am afraid we have invaded you, but there are those two unoccupied
huts going a-begging."
"Those huts are condemned, and you must turn out of them to-morrow," he
said shortly.
"Pray why?" with a little defiant laugh.
"Merely because they are unsafe."
"So _you_ think. General Bothwell holds the opposite opinion. What an
alarmist you are."
"No, I merely know my business, and I am responsible for your lives."
"Supposing I elect to stay?" she said with an indolent smile.
"I hope you will not, as I should be compelled to have you carried away
by force, the same as a fakir, who established himself in his old cave.
He has twice returned, and twice been ignominously removed."
"Perhaps the third time will be the charm?" she said gaily.
"The third time will be his death. The lake will not last more than
thirty-six hours."
"Then we are just in the nick of time to see what Sir Capel calls the
great water shoot."
"I doubt if you will see much; I believe the dam will go at night."
"Oh, how depressing you are! When we have come all this distance in
order to see the sight and, as the guide books say, any other objects
of interest! What do you do of an evening?" she inquired.
"We go to bed early, we are mostly dog tired; sometimes we have songs.
Angel has a mandoline, Brady has a voice, and occasionally we have a
round game of cards."
"Cards!" and her eyes glittered, "oh, do let us have a round game
to-night."
Mr. Brady figuratively leapt at the proposal, so did Mr. Jones
and Sir Capel; Angel was obliged to join as hostess, and
brought out cards and counters, but they only played for half
anna—_i.e._, half-penny—points, and by ten o'clock the lights
had been extinguished, the company had dispersed, led by Mrs.
Waldershare—_vingt-et-un_ at half-penny points! The game was a waste
of time, and in no sense worth the candle.
* * * * *
The windows of heaven had opened; there had been torrents of rain
during the night, now subsided to a thick penetrating mist; but there
was a sort of tension in the atmosphere, as if in preparation or
expectation of some awful revelation of nature. The general and Mrs.
Waldershare, in spite of the former's furious remonstrances, and her
pathetic appeals, had been driven out of their temporary shelter; she,
to share Angel's quarters, and he, to grumble in a leaky tent.
"Gascoigne was incompetent, grossly ignorant, and pig-headed." These
were a few of General Bothwell's growls. He had arrived on the scene,
as special, uninvited correspondent, and hoped to make a good deal of
fun and some money out of the affair. Indeed he had already drafted a
terrible indictment of the engineer officer in charge. The thought of
this deadly document afforded him warm comfort, when he was face to
face with Gascoigne's cold iron will, which refused to relax one inch
of authority.
General Bothwell scoffed at all precautions, he was a severely trying
guest. His jibes, suggestions, and opinions, were as maddening as the
stings of a swarm of hornets to a man whose hands are tied.
About midday, a telegram from the station was sent all down the line
"Clear, lake overtopped." Telegrams now came incessantly to the
inspection house, only a mile below the station, and everyone was aware
that the great event was imminent. At two o'clock in the afternoon
the wire said, "Dam cutting back rapidly." At five o'clock, "A heavy
rush of water has passed over dam. Lake has fallen twenty feet."
Half-an-hour later, "Lake has fallen thirty feet." So far all seemed
to be going well. The flood was passing away slowly, but steadily; at
this rate, it would keep to the bed of the river, and not rise more
than twenty feet, and if the dam was not further breached there would
be no great flood! General Bothwell was boisterously jubilant, most
disagreeably triumphant, the long prepared for affair had ended in
smoke after all; nothing could be seen with the heavy rain and mist,
but the lake had commenced falling, and there was no Niagara—no
catastrophe.
At seven o'clock the company, clad in mackintoshes, flocked in to
dinner; only two were absent, Mr. Brady and Mr. Hichens.
Lola, who had been lying on Angel's bed reading a novel, appeared
yawning, with somewhat dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes.
"So the great affair has fizzled out," she remarked, "and the mist is
so dense nothing can be seen. How boring!"
The general appeared a little later. He had dropped a rupee in his
tent, and could not find it. He was singularly fond of money—if it
had been a copper coin he would have kept the company waiting all the
same.
The dinner had commenced—indeed, it was half over—when there was a
shout outside, the usual stentorian cry of the telegraph boy, "Tal
agiar, tal agiar!" and a long message was handed to Gascoigne. He read
it, and with a hasty apology hurried out; but he returned in a moment
to say:
"The lake will escape in an hour. I'm going up to the dam now."
"But I thought it was _we_ who were to escape—not the lake," sneered
Lola, reaching for the salt. She paused, saltspoon in hand, and gave a
sharp exclamation. "My luck is gone—oh, I've lost my luck!" and the
face she turned to Angel was as white as a sheet.
"Why, what do you mean? What is it?"
"A little charm I always wear on my bangle. I would not lose it for
anything in the whole world. Oh, I shall never be happy until I find
it."
"Perhaps it is in my hut," suggested Angel. "When did you last see it?"
"This morning, when I was turning out of that other cabin—which now
seems to have been so unnecessary. Oh, I would not lose my lucky charm
for a thousand pounds."
"I daresay we shall find it. I'll help you as soon as you have
finished. We will get a big hurricane lantern, and search everywhere.
Is it very valuable—and what is it like?"
"It has brought me no end of fortune," said Lola, rising as she spoke.
"I must, and will find it—though it is only a little diamond skull."