Part 30 (1/2)
Unseen in the darkness Iris's hand sought and clasped the gold locket suspended from her neck. She already knew some portion of the story he would tell. The remainder was of minor importance.
”It is odd,” he continued, ”that you should have alluded to six years a moment ago. It is exactly six years, almost to a day, since the trouble began.”
”With Lord Ventnor?” The name slipped out involuntarily.
”Yes. I was then a Staff Corps subaltern, and my proficiency in native languages attracted the attention of a friend in Simla, who advised me to apply for an appointment on the political side of the Government of India. I did so. He supported the application, and I was a.s.sured of the next vacancy in a native state, provided that I got married.”
He drawled out the concluding words with exasperating slowness. Iris, astounded by the stipulation, dropped her locket and leaned forward into the red light of the log fire. The sailor's quick eye caught the glitter of the ornament.
”By the way,” he interrupted, ”what is that thing s.h.i.+ning on your breast?”
She instantly clasped the trinket again. ”It is my sole remaining adornment,” she said; ”a present from my father on my tenth birthday.
Pray go on!”
”I was not a marrying man, Miss Deane, and the requisite qualification nearly staggered me. But I looked around the station, and came to the conclusion that the Commissioner's niece would make a suitable wife. I regarded her 'points,' so to speak, and they filled the bill. She was smart, good-looking, lively, understood the art of entertaining, was first-rate in sports and had excellent teeth. Indeed, if a man selected a wife as he does a horse, she--”
”Don't be horrid. Was she really pretty?”
”I believe so. People said she was.”
”But what did _you_ think?”
”At the time my opinion was biased. I have seen her since, and she wears badly. She is married now, and after thirty grew very fat.”
Artful Jenks! Iris settled herself comfortably to listen.
”I have jumped that fence with a lot in hand,” he thought.
”We became engaged,” he said aloud.
”She threw herself at him,” communed Iris.
”Her name was Elizabeth--Elizabeth Morris.” The young lieutenant of those days called her ”Bessie,” but no matter.
”Well, you didn't marry her, anyhow,” commented Iris, a trifle sharply.
And now the sailor was on level ground again.
”Thank Heaven, no,” he said, earnestly. ”We had barely become engaged when she went with her uncle to Simla for the hot weather. There she met Lord Ventnor, who was on the Viceroy's staff, and--if you don't mind, we will skip a portion of the narrative--I discovered then why men in India usually go to England for their wives. Whilst in Simla on ten days' leave I had a foolish row with Lord Ventnor in the United Service Club--hammered him, in fact, in defence of a worthless woman, and was only saved from a severe reprimand because I had been badly treated. Nevertheless, my hopes of a political appointment vanished, and I returned to my regiment to learn, after due reflection, what a very lucky person I was.”
”Concerning Miss Morris, you mean?”
”Exactly. And now exit Elizabeth. Not being cut out for matrimonial enterprise I tried to become a good officer. A year ago, when Government asked for volunteers to form Chinese regiments, I sent in my name and was accepted. I had the good fortune to serve under an old friend, Colonel Costobell; but some malign star sent Lord Ventnor to the Far East, this time in an important civil capacity. I met him occasionally, and we found we did not like each other any better. My horse beat his for the PaG.o.da Hurdle Handicap--poor old Sultan! I wonder where he is now.”
”Was your horse called 'Sultan'?”
”Yes. I bought him in Meerut, trained him myself, and ferried him all the way to China. I loved him next to the British Army.”
This was quite satisfactory. There was genuine feeling in his voice now. Iris became even more interested.
”Colonel Costobell fell ill, and the command of the regiment devolved upon me, our only major being absent in the interior. The Colonel's wife unhappily chose that moment to flirt, as people say, with Lord Ventnor. Not having learnt the advisability of minding my own business, I remonstrated with her, thus making her my deadly enemy. Lord Ventnor contrived an official mission to a neighboring town and detailed me for the military charge. I sent a junior officer. Then Mrs. Costobell and he deliberately concocted a plot to ruin me--he, for the sake of his old animosity--you remember that I had also crossed his path in Egypt--she, because she feared I would speak to her husband. On pretence of seeking my advice, she inveigled me at night into a deserted corner of the Club grounds at Hong Kong. Lord Ventnor appeared, and as the upshot of their vile statements, which created an immediate uproar, I--well, Miss Deane, I nearly killed him.”