Part 53 (1/2)

He shook his head. 'n.o.body can--even I can't, though I know it's the only thing--that it ought to be done at once--that----' he broke off with an impatient gesture--'It's no use--it can't be helped!'

Lesley came a step nearer to him, with an odd look of resolve on her face.

'Do you mean that it would be wrong of you to do it, or that you haven't the right? I mean, is it something you could do if--if you were Sir George?'

The quickness of her perception made him say 'Yes?' frankly.

'Would Sir George do it if he were here?' followed sharply.

He gave another gesture of impatience. 'Don't let us play clumps, for Heaven's sake!' he exclaimed. 'I'll tell you--though it's no good.

There is a row on in the city to-night--the native regiment is in it--I have a letter here--or at any rate they won't be much help; and if once we get fighting in the streets----' he shrugged his shoulders--'the only way is to prevent it starting. And Moraki is beyond call. But there's a wing of the Highlanders at Fareedabad, forty miles down the line. If I could have got a wire sent there before the mail pa.s.ses--the up-mail which left here a little ago--it could have been stopped and sent back with troops. For Fareedabad is only an outpost--no railway stock--so there is only that one chance before midnight. There would have been time then--but now----'

'Then why don't you send one?'

'I?'

'Yes, you! You know the cipher. You know that Sir George would send it.'

'Pardon me!' he said, recovering his breath, recovering his obstinacy, his dislike to coercion, 'I am not in the least sure that he would.

Judging by this morning----'

'Then _she_ would--Lady Arbuthnot, I mean. And you--you are bound to do it for her-you know you are bound----'

'I?' he echoed again.

'Yes, you!' she repeated, and there was a quiver in her voice--'because you loved each other once. Oh! she didn't tell me--I have been learning a lot of things for myself lately, and I learned that because--but that is nothing! What I mean is, that it hurts her most, for she was wrong--quite wrong--she spoilt your life----'

'Perhaps I may be allowed to differ,' he began, stiffening himself again after his surprise; but she took no notice of his remark. Her face was troubled by her own thought--she was absorbed in it.

'It has come between you and everything, not the regret, but--I don't know what to call it quite--the value you have put upon it. And she has put it too. So you want to forget, and yet you don't. You think it so big a thing that it must be forgotten--made a fuss about. But it isn't.

It isn't really part of one at all. I've learned that lately. And there is a better way'--she broke off, and came quite close to him, looking him in the face: 'not to forget, and yet not to care. Do this for her, Mr. Raymond, do it as you would do it for me?' Here, for the first time, a faint smile showed in her eyes, not on her lips. 'It is a funny thing for me to say, perhaps, but--but I gave you the _ram rucki_, didn't I? And so, no matter what else there is in the world that, perhaps, we can't help, I want you to do this for her and for me together, as you would for a man, as I would do it for a woman.'

She laid her hand on his as she spoke, and held it there; not in a touch, but a clasp.

'And--and forget--whatever else there may be--always,' he asked steadily; 'forget for you both?'

'Please,' she replied quietly; 'for her and for me--always!'

For an instant--one short instant--the man's instinctive recognition of woman's goodness and kindness--and of something else, perhaps, which had lain behind the appeal--made Jack Raymond feel as if he must kiss the hand that lay on his; then he laid his other one on it, returning the clasp.

'But how on earth is it to be done?' he said, frowning as they stood thus, like children playing a game; 'the office won't take it without authority--some one's name--'

'Couldn't you sent it from here--I can signal. I've learned--oh! such a lot of things that have never been of any real use, and--No! they keep the instrument locked, I know--that won't do! I'll forge the name--I could--and I don't mind.'

He smiled. 'Nor I--they can't stop my promotion now. But the telegraph-office will be closed. I might get hold of some one, perhaps, by saying--No! for why shouldn't it have been sent from here! That question would stump us. We might try the railway station. Yes! of course! The wire to Fareedabad is only a railway one. Even the regular office could only pa.s.s it on. By Jove! that's lucky all round.'

She caught at the idea. 'Write it out quick--there are forms in Captain Lloyd's room over there! My bicycle's ready, I'll take it. How much time have I?'

'Plenty still.' He glanced round the room they had just entered and saw another bicycle. 'I'll take that, and save you lending yours.'