*CHAPTER VII*
"Sporting lot your fellows are, to be sure, Bob. Damme, the wholeblessed regiment seems to be going for the Cup this afternoon."
The speaker, Captain Legge, a thin-faced rat of a man hailing fromBangalore, formed one of a group assembled in the ante-room of theOfficers' Mess, 1st Lancers, discussing the past luncheon, coffee,cigars, and the race-card.
"Have to be, Tabby, or clear out," answered O'Hagan, glancing towardsthe far corner of the room, where Graeme was sitting, chuckling over the"Cat Derby," as depicted by Louis Wain. "Don't like unsporting fellowswith us, don't keep 'em either. Hi! you," to a passing khitmagar[#]"liqueur brandy, jeldi, you soor,[#] d'ye hear?" his heavy eyes glaringat the man, who sullenly departed on his mission.
[#] A native waiter.
[#] "Quick, you pig."
"Grandee on the job to-day, Tabby?" asked Major Ramp, a racing gunnerfrom Calcutta.
"Backing him myself, Barabbas, if that's any use to you," was theanswer; "ought to be a pinch, now the Ferret's not goin'."
"Why didn't you buy him in the lotteries last night then, Tabby?" saidanother, drooping his eyelid at O'Hagan.
"I did, or rather Jackie did it for me, Cross; kept it quiet that way,and got him cheaper. That's right, ain't it, Jackie?"
"Quite," responded a squeaky voice, and Jackie, a meek-lookingvet.--also hailing from Bangalore--thereupon produced a note-book fromhis pocket and began to turn over the pages.
"What about your own, though, Jackie," said Ramp; "he's in the samerace, ain't he?"
"The old Tinker? No earthly, Ramp, been off his feed the last twodays."
"Don't shout it to the Mess, hang it, man," said his patron, frowning athim.
"Sorry, Tabby, but we're all pals here, these fellows won't give itaway, I know, especially if they want to back Grandee, and, if they takemy tip, they will."
"Of course not," from all, and "Thank ye, Jackie. I'll bear it inmind," from Major Ramp, who, knowing the pair, made a mental note toleave that particular race alone.
"Matador's a certainty for your race, I suppose, Bob?" said CaptainBrass.
"Moral, if he stands up, and he's never fallen yet. Got a pot on him,advise you fellows to do the same."
"Who's riding him, Bob?"
"Having a go myself. Must be one of the regiment, you know, which givesme rather a pull; give most of 'em seven pounds at least."
"I see old Cyclops is running, Bob; queer old devil, used to belong tous till Stainforth sold him to Carson. New game for him, racing,though, ain't it?"
O'Hagan looked round the room before answering. Strangely enough, he wasfrightened of Carson, though not in the least of Graeme. Seeing no signof Peter, however, he replied boldly:
"Cyclops is not going. I stopped it. A race full of amateur jockeys isdangerous enough, without a one-eyed brute of a pony no one can holdjoining in. So I just told Carson I wouldn't have it, and there was anend of it."
"Why ain't Graeme performing, Bob?" asked Brass. "He used to go likesmoke at home with the Bicester."
"Captain Graeme don't ride now, except on parade, when he has to,"answered O'Hagan, again glancing towards the corner and meeting Hector'seyes over the top of the paper. This was instantly raised, however, andencouraged by the surrender O'Hagan continued:
"What do you do with unsporting fellows in your regiment, Ramp?" heobserved.
"Show 'em we don't want 'em," was the answer.
"But if they won't go, what then?"
"Get the Colonel to report badly on them, but surely Graeme..."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about him, of course, brother officer, you know,Ramp, and all that. Still," lowering his voice, though speaking verydistinctly, "as you are aware, every regiment has its undesirables,useless fellows no one likes; one doesn't talk about it, of course, butthere it is."
"He's a devilish good shot, is Graeme," said Brass, "best I ever saw, Ithink."
"Cavalry fellows ought to be fond of riding," squeaked Jackie, "that'stheir game, not shooting."
"Or go to the infantry," said O'Hagan.
"What the devil d'ye mean, O'Hagan?" said Legge, who belonged to thatbranch of the Service.
"I really beg your pardon, old chap. I always forget you ain't acavalry man or a gunner"--remembering Ramp--"you're such a sportingcove. Have another brandy?"
"No, thank you, and I don't see why a fellow shouldn't care for shootingeven if he is in the cavalry; it's sport just the same as racing.Besides, Graeme plays polo, don't he?"
"Oh yes, in a way. His real hobby's clothes and cats, though."
"Cats?"
"Yes, sleeps with a cat, I'm told. Jolly for his wife, eh what?Hullo," suddenly breaking off, with a look of well-feigned surprise andconcern on his face, for Graeme had risen, and, apparently unconsciousof his or the others' presence, was now making his way to the door,"there's the man himself," he added, Hector having disappeared, "now Ihave done it."
"Good Lord, O'Hagan, why the devil didn't you tell us he was there?"said Brass indignantly. "He must have heard every word."
"Well, if he did, he only knows what all of us think, and..."
"I think we ought to be making a move, O'Hagan," said Legge shortly;"it's past one now, and I'm riding in the first race. Come on, Jackie,you're always an hour decorating."
He rose, and, the others following his example, the party departed totheir different quarters to dress.
Meanwhile Hector was walking rapidly away from the Mess on his way toCarson's bungalow. At the compound entrance he paused, and for a momentstood leaning against the gate, as if reflecting; then once more movedon, and, entering the house, came upon Peter engaged in the sorting offishing-tackle.
"Hullo, Graeme," he said, "you're just the man I want. Help me tostraighten this out, will you? it's kinked like blazes," whereupon,without answering, Hector sat down on the bed, and, taking up one end ofthe line, proceeded to disentangle it.
"Hands very shaky this morning, Graeme," said Carson. "Why the dickensdon't you give up those infernal cigarettes and take to an honest pipe,like me? You look pretty seedy too; what's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, want of exercise, I suppose. Think I'll go for a ridethis afternoon."
"Can't. The regiment's At Home, and we've got to be there. Pity youdidn't enter one of your ponies for the Cup, as I wanted you to; you'dhave had your ride then."
"I wish I had now, I'd give something for a mount. I envy you oldCyclops, even."
"Cyclops is not going."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't want to break my neck, that's why."
"Break your neck be hanged. Cyclops is a devilish good jumper."
"All right, you ride him then; you're welcome."
"Thank you, Peter, I will. I'll go now and tell the sais to have himdown on the course."
"You'll do nothing of the kind. I was only joking. D'you think I'mgoing to have your missus..."
"Where shall I find the sais?"
"I won't lend him, I tell you."
"Oh, want to back out of it, do you?"
"I never back out of anything; you know that perfectly well, Graeme."
"I used to think so."
"But..."
"Ah!"
"Oh, take the pony and be hanged to you. I don't want to lend him, Itell you that straight; but, since like a fool I offered the brute, youcan have him. Break his neck if you like, your own too."
"Thank you very much, Peter, and will you or shall I have him sentdown?"
"I will."
"Right, good-bye, you're coming yourself, I suppose?"
"Yes, with the ambulance for you."
"Good. I'll be off to dress," and Graeme, leaving Peter frowning at hisknots, returned to his own bungalow, where he found Lucy awaiting him inthe verandah.
"Where on earth have you been, Hector," she said, "and what's thematter?" staring at him.
"Nothing. I've been given a moun
t for the Regimental Cup, Lucy, justwhat you wanted, aren't you pleased?"
Lucy, however, did not look pleased. She stood, with her eyes stillfixed on her husband's face.
"Why have you done this, Hector," she said after a pause, "rather asudden idea, isn't it?"
"Oh, I know it seems changeable, Lucy, but I've been thinking about whatyou said last night, about its being unsporting not to ride, and so on.I'm really doing it more to please you than myself. Where are mythings? I must hurry," trying to pass her as he spoke.
Lucy stopped him.
"Wait a minute, Hector," she said; "if it's only to please me you'reriding, you needn't do it. I too have changed my mind; I'd rather nowyou didn't."
"And why not?"
"I don't think I quite know, but I don't wish you to. Let me send a noteto Captain Carruthers, please, Hector, I'm sure he won't mind."
"This is absurd, Lucy; only last night you begged me to ride, and nowthat I've done what you ask, you----"
"I know it seems silly. Oh, Hector, I can't explain, but somethingtells me you ought not to. Please let me write that note."
"I certainly won't. I'm not going to be made a fool of like this,"snatching at the chance of losing his temper, "and it's no good writingto Carruthers; it's Cyclops I'm riding, not Hermes."
"Cyclops," echoed Lucy, who knew the animal as she knew every pony, dogor child in the regiment. "Cyclops, oh, you can't mean it, Hector?"
"I do, though. Peter offered me the mount, and I've accepted. Oh, forgoodness' sake be reasonable, Lucy; it's done now. Come and dress.Where are my things?"
"And you care so little for me as to ride a one-eyed bolting brute in asteeplechase," began Lucy furiously; then suddenly her anger passed, andcoming close to her husband she laid her hand on his arm. "Hector,won't you for my sake give this up? It isn't often I ask anything ofyou, but now I do. Oh, dearest, please--please."
"And have Peter and the rest think I'm afraid? No, thank you."
"Hector, you know you don't care what they think. It's something to dowith O'Hagan."
"Perhaps it is, Lucy; he called me 'unsporting' just now, and I'm goingto show him I'm not. Once more, please tell me where my things are?"
"Hector, I implore you," began Lucy, and then, seeing his face, stopped."You won't give this up then," she said, "whatever I say?"
"No; where are----"
"I don't know," she said violently, "and I don't care, find themyourself," and she left him, banging the door behind her as she went offto her room.
Here for an hour she remained, dawdling over her dressing, to the justindignation of Halling, her maid, who also proposed to go racing thatafternoon under the escort of the regimental sergeant-major and hiswife, and who, for the first time in her experience, found her mistressboth trying and inconsiderate, and also for the first time sympathisedwith her master, stamping up and down the verandah outside.
At length, just as Hector had made up his mind to send for a horse andride on without her, she emerged from her seclusion, and coldly askinghim if he meant to come to the races that afternoon entered the waitingbuggy, seized the reins, and drove off, Hector scrambling in after her.In silence they rattled down the broad mall, Lucy looking straight aheadand declining to answer Hector when he spoke, and after some narrowescapes from collision with passing gharries--for the lady was notdriving with her customary skill--arrived on the scene of action.
To those accustomed to the greensward and trees of a British racecourse,that of Riwala would have come as a rather doleful surprise. Facing agreat open stretch of dusty maidan, around which ran the track, rose thegrand stand, a bare-looking edifice of wood and corrugated iron,surrounded by iron railings, forming the enclosure, where the variousregiments of the garrison dispensed hospitality. For some hundred yardsto the right and left of the stand the course, unmarked save by rows ofwhitewashed stones and a few flags, was shut in by a double row ofwooden railings, the stand side and enclosure being reserved for the_elite_, that opposite for the [Greek: oi polloi] and such natives ofthe lower order as cared to attend.
The second race had just finished when Lucy and her husband arrived, anda babel of voices was rising on the air, bookmakers shouting theiranxiety to pay on the winner, and spectators chattering to theaccompaniment of brassy and somewhat unpleasing music from the band ofthe Queen's Own Purple Fusiliers.
All the notabilities of Riwala--almost, it might be said, of thePunjaub--were here assembled, mostly of military status, it is true, butnevertheless comprising a few civilians of importance, such as Mr.Timothy Qui Hye, the Commissioner, and, greater still, Sir BackshishGussle Khana, Lieut.-Governor of the Punjaub--a very big man, and oneconscious of his eminence, though, like some other great men, a littlecareless in his attire; his boots, of the kind known as "Jemima," and a"made-up" tie marring an otherwise irreproachable costume of decentblack.
Many others were there too, though not of such eminence as his. LadyPompom, for instance--the wife of Sir Julius Pompom, commanding thestation of Dam Kot--a regal-looking lady, in a dress of imperial purple,surmounted by a white solar topee tastefully decorated with yellowflowers. A crowd of youths were about her, for Lady Pompom was fond ofboys, designating them "young people of my own age." Some of theseyoung people, it is true, looked as though they would like to beelsewhere, but no such defection was possible, as well they knew, forthat would mean the official displeasure of Sir Julius, with, possibly,consequent stoppage of leave, and even--such things had beenknown--nasty remarks in confidential reports.
Those two ladies yonder, who were so warmly yet carefully embracing--aloving handclasp, a peck on the right place, a "How sweet you look!" andthe thing was done--were Mrs. Warmon, the wife of Major Warmon of the250th Mesaltchis, and her friend and foe, Mrs. Charpoy, better half ofColonel Charpoy, commanding the Purple Fusiliers. Rival beauties ofRiwala, they hated each other right well, hence the warmth of theembrace; and both being a trifle touched up, this accounted for theircare in bestowing the kiss, which operation completed they parted andspoke to each other no more that day.
Forlorn and unattended, on the steps of the grand stand, sat the twoGame girls, their eyes roving in search of male recognition. This wastheir third year in the country, but, though hitherto unappropriated,hope was far from dead in their somewhat flat bosoms. Possibly the netmay have been spread a little too openly in the sight of the bird, but,be this as it may, gamebag and creel were still empty, and the MissesGame remained, and were likely to remain, the Misses Game.
Into this throng walked Lucy, Hector following. She was all smiles, nowthat there were others to see--a trim, sporting-looking figure in brown,with a hat of the same colour, touched with vermilion, and smart,laced-up patent-leather boots. Not for long, however, was she sufferedto remain with her husband, a cluster of young men soon surrounding her,all anxious to give her tea, show her their ponies, any pretext to drawher away for a little private conversation. For Lucy, unlike Hector,was a popular person with all, from the great Sir Backshish himself tolittle Tickler Macpherson, the dusky daughter--one of fourteen--ofDugald Macpherson, Assistant Commissioner of Riwala, Highland of namethough _cafe au lait_ in hue.
Reputed inaccessible to lovemakers, too, was Mrs. Graeme, which quality,and the ready sympathy she showed with their various husband, lover, andservant troubles, endeared her to the women, in spite of her looks andclothes; while at the same time it rendered her conquest incumbent onall self-respecting shikaris of ladies.
Eventually Captain Knowles, proficient at the game of love-making,wrested the prize from the other competitors, somewhat to his ownsurprise, for, though for some time he had done his best, he could notpretend that that best had been crowned with any measure of success.To-day, however, there was a welcome change in the lady's manner--she nolonger chilled but smiled upon his efforts, ignoring her husband, towhom the gay captain, as she knew, was anathema. To her annoyance,Hector showed none of his usual signs of restiveness at the other'spresence; on th
e contrary, he rather abetted his endeavours to please,and, on Knowles suggesting tea, handed her over willingly, and, turningaway, was soon lost to view in the crowd. For a moment Lucy stoodlooking blankly after him, but, speedily rallying, expressed a desirefor shelter from the sun, and Knowles, instantly responding, led heraway in triumph, and was shortly afterwards comfortably seated besidehis booty in the darkest corner of one of the big marquees.
"Thank Heaven," muttered Hector, "I'm alone at last, now, what's to bedone to pass the time? Confound this waiting, my nerves are all anyhow.Hullo, there's Cyclops, I'll go and have a look at him." He walked awayto where a native was standing holding a pony, a dun-coloured beast,rusty-coated and hideous. One of his eyes was gone, the result of ablow from the fork of a revengeful sais, whose arm Cyclops had playfullychawed; the other was small, and, as usual, vindictive-looking.
Not an engaging-looking mount for a steeplechase, it must be admitted,though the look of the brute appeared at the present moment to givesatisfaction to Graeme, particularly the red eyeless socket, at which heattentively gazed. Nevertheless, despite his unengaging appearance,Cyclops had his good points, being hard as nails, a perfect fencer, andpossessing the pluck of the devil with the temper of a fiend.
"Khabadar,[#] sahib," said his guardian, as Hector came up. "Aibainchute,"[#] jerking at the bridle just in time to save Graeme's armfrom bared yellow teeth, "Hamesha aisa hai, sahib, bot bobbery bainchutewallah."[#]
[#] Look out.
[#] An untranslatable term of abuse reflecting on female relations.
[#] "Always like this, sir, a violent..."
"Horrid beast," muttered Graeme, looking at him. "I'll take the steamout of you, my friend; there won't be much bobbery about you when I'vedone." He walked away, and stood for a moment leaning over theenclosure rails. As he did so, a thunder of hoofs struck on his ears,and Tabby Legge flew past, his mount, a splendid chestnut Arab, fightingfor his head as he went.
"Grandee," said Graeme, "that's the certainty, is it? Hum, and here'sTinker, Jackie up too, 'tisn't often he rides. Betty still to come--oh,here she is. Lord, what a commoner, different class altogether. Iwonder what they're up to, some silly knavery, I suppose, from the waythey talked in the Mess. It can't be Grandee, or they wouldn't havesaid so; still, that might be part of the swindle, for they know no onewould believe them. All the same, I don't think it's Grandee, butTinker, especially as Jackie's riding, they know they'd get a betterprice with him up. Hope to goodness they get done, though I don't seehow they're going to, unless Betty wins, and she can't if the othersstand up. Hullo, they're off, and one left at the post, which is it,Grandee, I suppose? No, it isn't; it's Tinker, then they do meanGrandee, after all. Funny, I could have sworn it was the other.
"Lord, it's a procession," looking through his glasses at the chestnut,who was leisurely cantering ahead of the already labouring Betty."Well, that's over," lowering his glasses and turning away. "Why,what's up?" a sudden roar from the crowd rising on the air. "GoodLord," his eyes turned once more on the course, "Good Lord," for passinghim was Betty, alone; some distance away, off the track, being Grandee,plunging and fighting with his rider. The favourite had run out. "Now,what the devil have they been up to?" muttered Hector. "Betty wasn'tbacked, I know. Aha, I have it, Tabby thought it was Jackie behind him,not knowing that rascal had been left, and pulled out to let himwin"--which was the exact situation.
"Splendid that is, quite bucked me up; and now to dress, my race isnext. I wish I didn't feel so shaky, though; my heart's going like adynamo, and I can hardly breathe. Curious, what a nerve-ridden beggar Iam, always like this beforehand, though once I'm started I don't caretwopence. Anyone to look at me would say I was in a blue funk, and so Iam really, or rather one part of me is; the other's right enough 'Youtremble, carcass,'" he quoted half aloud, "'you'd tremble still more ifyou knew where I was going to take you.' Gad, you would. Ah, here's thetent. Lord, what a crowd! Most of them too, from the look of them, ina worse funk than I am. Got the colours, Abdul?" to his bearer, "Allright, leave them here. I can dress myself," and Graeme, sitting down,proceeded to array himself in Peter Carson's chocolate and blue, afterwhich he put on his overcoat, and, having been duly weighed, set off forCyclops' stall, where he found Lucy and Carson surveying thatill-favoured beast.
"Oh, here you are at last, Graeme," said Peter; "we've been looking foryou everywhere. Thought you'd given it up and gone home. I should, ifI were you, Cyclops is not quite at his best to-day."
"What's the matter with him? He looks all right, anyway he's got togo."
"Hector, I wish you'd give it up," said Lucy, laying her hand on hisarm; "for my sake, please do."
"Nonsense, Lucy, it's all right. Cyclops won't fall, will he, Peter?"
"I wouldn't bet about it; he might; I wouldn't trust him."
"You see, Hector, even his owner doesn't think it safe. Besides, you'renot fit to ride; you look so white and strange, doesn't he, CaptainCarson?"
"Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Graeme, a bit pale perhaps, but that doesn't gofor much." Then aside to Hector. "You look like a ghost, man, don't bea fool, give it up, as your wife wants you to. It's not the game tofrighten her like this."
"There's the bell," answered Hector. "Give me a leg up, Peter. Holdhis head, confound you," to the sais. "All right, I'm up. Chor do.[#]Steady, you brute," and Graeme rode away, Cyclops now as quiet as alamb.
[#] Let go.
"Oh, Captain Carson, I do hate it so," said Lucy, looking after him, "Ifeel certain something's going to happen."
"Not it, Mrs. Graeme, see how nice and quiet the pony's going."
"But he'll bolt as soon as they start, and Hector has no experience ofrace-riding."
"Nor have the rest; he's as good as most of them, anyway. Don't worry,Mrs. Graeme, but come and watch the race. Where would you like to see itfrom, the grand stand?"
"No, I'll stay here, I think. Don't let me keep you, though, CaptainCarson, I shall be all right."
"I'd rather remain with you if I may. Hullo, there's the trumpet;they're off. Here they come. Cyclops leading."
"Surely he's bolted, oh, he has--he has."
"Not he, always goes a bit free to start with: he'll soon settle down,you'll see. Ah, well over, did you see that, Mrs. Graeme, yards tospare?"
"Where's Matador?"
"Behind, Lord, what a mover he is, only cantering."
"Who's that down, surely it's my husband?"
"No, it isn't, it's Falconer on Sultan; but he's up again now and on.Look how well Cyclops is going, a good twenty lengths ahead, if only hecould keep it up."
"Where's Matador now?"
"Still behind; O'Hagan will leave it too long if he don't take care.Ah, there he is coming up now, leaving the rest standing; by Jove, heand Cyclops are almost abreast, both going for the open ditch.Good--good God! ... It's all right, Mrs. Graeme, it's all right, I tellyou. Your husband's up and walking about. Take my glasses and look foryourself, they're better than yours."
"But the other--the other, is he up too?"
"Can't see yet, these glasses are so infernally bad. Mrs. Graeme, do youmind if I leave you?"
"No, no, go quickly; get there first before them," pointing to a streamof people flowing across the maidan towards the open ditch. "Bring himstraight back to me. I'll have the buggy waiting there by those trees.Oh, my God, what a fool I was not to have understood, you too, CaptainCarson, it's as much your fault ... Why didn't you refuse?"
"Because I was a blind idiot. Hi you," advancing on a sais holding apony hard by, "give up that ghora[#] at once."
[#] Horse.
"Smit sahib's pony," said the man, not moving.
"Don't care who's it is; let go, I say, or----" raising his stick.
He snatched the reins from the terrified native, and flinging himselfinto the saddle galloped away, belabouring the pony as he went. It wasa race, but Carson won, and reaching his goal, a good hundred yardsabreast of th
e leading man, sprang to the ground and ran up to whereGraeme was standing, looking down on a huddled heap of white and scarletat his feet. A few yards away lay Cyclops, his neck outstretched andone eye sightlessly staring, while away in the distance, with reinstrailing and stirrups flapping, Matador could be seen, galloping gailyhomeward. Seeing Peter, Hector turned and hurried to meet him.
"Can't get rid of him, can't we, Peter?" he cried. "Well, I have, I'vedone what you couldn't do, old man, he's gone now, right enough, he andCyclops together, come and see."
Carson seized him by the shoulder, crushing it in his grip.
"Hold your tongue, you fool," he whispered, "look behind you; they'll behere in a minute. D'you want to hang? Oh yes, I'll come and see. Godhelp you," and, still holding him fast, he hurried on to where O'Haganwas lying.
"O'Hagan," he called, "get up, man, get up," and then, no answer comingfrom the heap, he knelt down beside it, and tearing open the silkenjacket felt for its heart. For a few seconds he remained kneeling, theclamour from behind growing rapidly louder, and then rose to his feetonce more.
"You're right, Graeme," he said quietly; "quite right, you have doneit."
"What's happened, who is it?" said a breathless voice, echoed by others.The spectators had arrived.
"O'Hagan, dead," answered Carson. "Oh, keep away, man; have you nosense of decency? Where's a doctor?"
"Who's the other? Rode right into him. Most deliberate thing I eversaw in my life. I saw it quite plainly through my glasses."
Carson spun round, facing the speaker, his eyes blazing.
"Who was it said that, who was it, I say? Don't stand skulking behindthere, whoever you are, but come out and say it like a man. Some poorloser, I suppose, with five rupees on Matador, whining because he'slost. Come out, I say, if you've a spark of pluck in you," but to theinvitation there was no response; the speaker declined to show himself.
"You want to know about it, do you? All right, you shall. I'll tellyou as I told old Peter here. Three weeks ago in Fort Hussein I----"
"I know you did, old boy, you were quite right too; it was my fault forlending you an infernal one-eyed brute. Can't you see the man's hadconcussion, and don't know what he's saying?" he continued, addressingthe crowd.
"One-eyed," said a voice, "that accounts for it then."
"That accounts for it, as you say. Thank God, here's a doctor at last.It's O'Hagan, Sarel."
"Bad?"
"Neck broken, I think."
"Good God! and what about Graeme there? He looks pretty queer."
"I'm not queer at all. I'm perfectly clear. I'll tell you how ithappened. It's a long story, but----"
"Graeme, your wife's waiting for you. She's anxious naturally, and Ipromised her I'd bring you back at once, you can tell me all about it aswe go, I'd like to hear. Out of the way, please," to the crowd, whoobediently formed a lane, and still holding him firmly by the arm Peterhurried Graeme away to where Lucy was standing.
"Is the buggy ready, Mrs. Graeme?" he said, not looking at her. "Yes,there it is; well, get him home as quickly as possible. Keep him withyou, don't let him speak to anyone. He's a bit light-headed, you see,"he explained, looking away, "don't quite know what he's saying; beentalking awful rot."
For a moment Lucy looked at the speaker, but still he refused to meether eye.
"I ... understand, Captain Carson," she said at last, and then shiveredslightly and turned away.
"Who's light-headed? What the devil do you mean, Peter, and where'sCyclops? Hullo, Lucy, what are you doing here?"
"You've had a fall, dear. The race is over."
"Over, where's O'Hagan?"
"And I want you to take me back. I--I'm cold," and again Lucy shivered.
"Matador, O'Hagan, what of them?"
"Never mind about that now, Hector."
"I will know, I must know, where are they?"
Lucy looked questioningly at Peter; the latter nodded in answer.
"Captain O'Hagan's hurt, Hector."
"Is he dead, is he dead?"
Again Carson nodded, but this time there was no response from Lucy; helooked quickly up, and then, moving forward, stood almost touching her.
"O'Hagan is dead, Graeme," he said; "you may as well know it now aslater. Oh, for goodness' sake, get your wife into the trap and be off.Can't you see she's nearly fainting?"
"Dead," echoed Hector, a deep sigh rising from his breast; then suddenlyhis mouth closed firmly, and he straightened himself.
"God! what an awful thing," he said. "How did it happen?"
"Oh, never mind that now, you'll hear all about it later. Get your wifehome."
"Why, what's the matter, Lucy, you look pretty bad, shaken I suppose?Come along." Putting his arm round her, he supported her towards thewaiting buggy, and with Carson's help lifted her in and tucked the rugsround her.
"Good-bye, Peter," he said, taking up the whip, "and thanks for whatyou've done. Talked awful nonsense, I suppose, didn't I? Must have hadconcussion. By the way, what time will the funeral be to-morrow, early,do you think?"
Peter stared at him, but Graeme's eyes met his boldly.
"I suppose it will," he said at last. "I'll come round to-night and letyou know."
"Oh, don't trouble. I shall get the orders."
"I'll be round at half-past nine. I want to know how your wife is.Good-bye, Mrs. Graeme," and Peter raised his hat and walked quicklyaway.
* * * * *
Nine o'clock had struck. Once more Hector and Lucy sat together in thesoftly lighted drawing-room, the former a trifle pale, but otherwise inno way changed from the man of twenty-four hours before, the latterhaggard-faced, with dark lines under the eyes that stared into theflames.
Now and again she would glance up furtively at her husband, her eyescuriously wondering as they took in the sheen of silk and velvet, thecat slumbering on his knee, and the air of placid content pervading hiswhole being; then, with a shiver, she would turn away and resume hercontemplation of the fire. For, like Peter, Lucy failed to understand.Suddenly her lips began to tremble and her eyes to fill with tears; fora moment she remained fighting against it, and then, abandoning theeffort, flung herself on her knees beside Hector, sobbing wildly:
"Oh, Hector, speak, say something; it's awful to see you, I can't bearit, I can't, I can't."
Graeme stroked her hair, and, bending down, kissed her.
"Hush, dear," he said gently, "you'll only make yourself ill, and afterall, Lucy, it wasn't you who did it; it was I. Take it as I do. Idon't..."
"It's that which is killing me, Hector, your not caring. Oh dear, can'tyou realise the--the--horror of it all?"
Hector frowned.
"I'm not a hypocrite, Lucy," he said slowly, "why should I pretend tocare when I don't? I hated the fellow, so did you. Why this fuss thennow?"
"Fuss, oh, my God, Hector, are you human, that you can talk of it likethat?"
"I honestly don't understand you, Lucy, are you going to say now youwish the man back?"
"I'd give all I've got, Hector, for him to be alive again. I'd give evenmy sight, and there's nothing worse than blindness. Hate him, of courseI hated him. I hate him now more than ever, because this afternoon washis fault. Oh, can't you understand it's not of him I'm thinking, but ofyou, Hector, you?"
"You think they--there'll be unpleasantness over this, Lucy? Well, ifthere is, I'm ready for it. They can't call you as a witness, though,that's one thing. A wife, you know----"
"I would insist on being called. I would force my way in."
Hector stared.
"You--you mean you'd give me away, Lucy? Jeanie Dean's conscience, eh?"
"And I'd lie and lie and lie! I'd go through hell for you, Hector, youcan trust me, dear, not to fail you."
Again Hector stared.
"You beat me, Lucy," he said, "you go for me for doing it, and then wantto perjure yourself to pull me through. But,
look here, indiscriminatelying won't help us, we must have the story pat, and stick to it likebird-lime. Hullo, someone outside, come for me already, have they?"
"It's only Captain Carson, Hector; he said he'd be here, you know, atthe half-hour."
"Did he? I forgot. Think he knows, Lucy? I can't remember what Isaid. I was off my head at the time."
"He knows everything, but he won't speak; you can trust him. Here heis."
"Leave us, Lucy; we must have this out together."
"But you won't lose your temper, Hector, you won't abuse him?"
"Not I, I'm like an angel to-night. Go, Lucy, please," and Lucy went,Peter entering by the other door as the curtain dropped behind her.
"Glad to see you, Peter. Have a drink?"
"No, thank you, Graeme."
"Cigarette, then? No, I know you won't. Fill that old pipe of yoursand sit down. Match? Here you are."
A pause.
"Well, Peter?"
"How's Mrs. Graeme?"
"All right, thank you; you've not asked after my health, though."
Another pause.
"So that's what you wanted Cyclops for, Graeme?"
"I'll give you the pick of my stable, if that's what you're after,Peter."
"Was it a sudden idea?"
"No, that afternoon at Fort Hussein. I saw it was the only way, sincethen I've been waiting. If I'd failed this time I'd have done it later.I knew, though, I shouldn't fail, I meant it, you see."
"Good God!"
"Why do you say that?" burst out the other with sudden passion. "I onlydid what you and half the others wanted in your hearts. Oh, I'll becandid with you; you know most of it, anyway, and you played the gamethis afternoon. That fellow was a plague spot, Peter; he was ruiningthe regiment, though for that I don't care two pins; it was when he puthimself up against me that I took a hand. And he did attack me, youknow that, Peter, insulted me, blackguarded me behind my back, said Iwas a coward, and vowed he'd have me out of the regiment."
He paused. Peter said nothing, only watched the other's face, for thiswas a changed Graeme to him, and, as he looked, he began to understand athing he had never quite been able to before: how Private Mortlock'sbody had been recovered that August morning, six months before.
Graeme resumed, in the same tone of concentrated purpose. "Well, Peter;when anyone goes for me, I hit back, not as most do, blow for blow,wasting their strength, but with one blow only, and I take care that onehas not to be repeated, Peter, it settles the matter for good and all.That's what I've done with O'Hagan, and that I'll do with anyone oranything which comes up against me. It was him or me; can't youunderstand? There was no room for us both, I had to kill him, myself,or both. And now you know, what do you propose to do--give me away?
"'And Hector Graeme walked between With gyves upon his wrist.'
Is that it? Do, if you like and can."
"For God's sake, no levity, man."
"That's another thing. You, and my wife too, seem to expect me to showpenitence, to cry over what I've done. Why? I'm glad, not sorry; whyshould I then pretend a sorrow, like the Walrus with the oysters?"
Peter stared at him, with bewilderment in his eyes, as there had been afew minutes before in Lucy's.
"Because," he said slowly, "because you're a human being, Graeme."
"Well, I don't feel it, not in the slightest degree, and I'm not goingto sham."
Carson rose, and for a moment stood looking down at him.
"Graeme," he said, "you and I have been friends since you joined tenyears ago, and, well, I stand by my friends, and do not give them away,whatever they do; their actions are matters for their own consciences,not mine. Of this afternoon I'll never speak again; it's a thing, Iconfess, beyond my understanding; let it remain at that and be buried.Only you--you must see it can never be quite the same between us again;you do see that, don't you?"
"No, I don't."
"I can't help that; it is so, for me, at all events. But one thing Ipromise you: no one outside shall see it; they must not. We _must_ becareful, for ... your wife's sake. Good-night, Graeme."
"Good-night, Peter."
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