Part 57 (1/2)
[Footnote 25: Criminal Investigation Department.]
[Footnote 26: Well done.]
[Footnote 27: Victory to Desmond Sahib.]
CHAPTER VI.
”Blood and brain and spirit, three-- Join for true felicity.
Are they parted, then expect Someone sailing will be wrecked.”
--GEORGE MEREDITH.
On the night after the Gymkhana the great little world of Lah.o.r.e was again disporting itself, with unabated vigour, in the pillared ballroom of the Lawrence Hall. They could tell tales worth inditing, those pillars and galleries that have witnessed all the major festivities of Punjab Anglo-India--its loves and jealousies and high-hearted courage--from the day of crinolines and whiskers, to this day of the tooth-brush moustache, the retiring skirts and still more retiring bodices of after-war economy. And there are those who believe they will witness the revelry of Anglo-Indian generations yet to be.
Had Lance Desmond shared Roy's gift for visions, he might have seen, in spirit, the ghosts of his mother and father, in the pride of their youth, and that first legendary girl-wife, of whom Thea had once told him all she knew, and whose grave he had seen in Kohat cemetery with a queer mingling of pity and resentment in his heart. There should have been no one except his own splendid mother--first, last, and all the time.
But Lance, though no scoffer, had small intimacy with ghosts; and Roy's frequented other regions; nor was he in the frame of mind to induce spiritual visitations. Soul and body were enmeshed, as in a network of sunbeams, holding him close to earth.
For weeks part of him had been fighting, subconsciously, against the compelling power that is woman; now, consciously, he was alive to it, swept along by it, as by a tidal wave. Since that amazing moment at the prize-giving, all his repressed ferment had welled up and overflowed; and when an imaginative, emotional nature loses grip on the reins, the pace is apt to be headlong, the course perilous....
He had dined at the Eltons'--a lively party; chaff and laughter and champagne; and Miss Arden--after yesterday's graciousness--in a tantalising, elusive mood. But he had his dances secure--six out of twenty, not to mention the cotillon, after supper, which they were to lead. She was wearing what he called her 'Undine frock'--a clinging affair, fringed profusely with silver and palest green, that suggested to his fancy Undine emerging from the stream in a dripping garment of water-weeds. Her arms and shoulders emerged from it a little too noticeably for his taste; but to-night his critical brain was in abeyance.
Look where he would, talk to whom he would, he was persistently, distractingly aware of her; and she could not elude him the whole evening long....
Supper was over. The cotillon itself was almost over; the maypole figure adding a flutter of bright ribbons to the array of flags and bunting, evening dresses, and uniforms. Twice, in the earlier figures, she had chosen him; but this time, the chance issue of pairing by colours gave her to Desmond. Roy saw a curious look pa.s.s between them. Then Lance put his arm round her, and they danced without a break.
When it was over, Roy went in search of iced coffee. In a few seconds those two appeared on the same errand, and merged themselves in a lively group. Roy, irresistibly, followed suit; and when the music struck up, Lance handed her over with a formal bow.
”Your partner, I think, old man. Thanks for the loan,” he said; and his smile was for Roy as he turned and walked leisurely away.
Roy looked after him, feeling pained and puzzled; the more so, because Lance clearly had the whip-hand. It was she who seemed the less a.s.sured of the two; and he caught himself wis.h.i.+ng he possessed the power so to upset her equanimity. Was it even remotely possible that--she cared seriously, and Lance would not...?
”Brown studies aren't permitted in ballrooms, Mr Sinclair!” she rallied him in her gentlest voice--and Lance was forgotten. ”Come and tie an extra big choc. on to my fis.h.i.+ng-rod.”
Roy disapproved of the chocolate figure, as derogatory to masculine dignity. Six brief-skirted, briefer-bodiced girls stood on chairs, each dangling a chocolate cream from a fis.h.i.+ng-rod of bamboo and coloured ribbon. Before them, on six cus.h.i.+ons, knelt six men; heads tilted back, bobbing this way and that, at the caprice of the angler; occasionally losing balance, and half toppling over amid shouts and cheers.
How did that kind of fooling strike the '_kits_' and the Indian bandsman up aloft, wondered Roy. A pity they never gave a thought to that side of the picture. He determined not to be drawn in. Lance, he noticed, studiously refrained. Miss Arden--having tantalised three aspirants--was looking round for a fourth victim. Their eyes met--and he was done for....
Directly his knee touched the cus.h.i.+on, the recoil came sharply--too late. And she--as if aware of his reluctance--played him mercilessly, smiling down on him with her astonis.h.i.+ng hazel eyes....
Roy's patience and temper gave out. Tingling with mortification, he rose and walked away, to be greeted with a volley of good-natured chaff.
He was followed by Lister, 'the R.E. boy,' who at once secured the elusive bait, clearly by favour rather than skill. The rest had already paired. The band struck up; and Roy, partnerless, stood looking on, the film of the East over his face masking the clash of forces within. The fool he was to have given way! And _this_--before them all--after yesterday...!
His essential masculinity stood confounded; blind to the instinct of the essential coquette--allurement by flight. He resolved to take no part in the final figure--the mirror and handkerchief; would not even look at her, lest she catch his eye.
Her choice fell on Hayes; and Roy--elaborately indifferent--carried Lance off to the buffet for champagne cup. It was a thirsty evening; a relief to be quit of the ballroom and get a breath of masculine fresh air. The fencing-bout and its aftermath had consciously quickened his feeling for Lance. In the fury of that fight they seemed to have worked off the hidden friction of the past few weeks that had dimmed the steady radiance of their friends.h.i.+p. It was as if a storm-cloud had burst and the sun shone out again.