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diff --git a/18239-h/18239-h.htm b/18239-h/18239-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c55990 --- /dev/null +++ b/18239-h/18239-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13174 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Road to Mandalay, by B. M. 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M. Croker</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Road to Mandalay<br /> + A Tale of Burma</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: B. M. Croker</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 23, 2006 [eBook #18239]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 17, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Al Haines</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROAD TO MANDALAY ***</div> + + +<h1>The Road to Mandalay</h1> + +<h3>A Tale of Burma</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by B. M. Croker</h2> + +<p class="center"> +Cassell and Company, Ltd<br/> +London, New York, Toronto & Melbourne<br/> +First published October 1917.<br/> +Reprinted December 1917, March and May 1918<br/> +Popular Edition 1919. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center">TO<br/> +LT.-COLONEL A. E. CONGDON<br/> +LATE ROYAL MUNSTER FUSILIERS<br/> +FROM HIS OLD FRIEND<br/> +THE AUTHOR</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER 1. BLINDS DOWN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER 2. WHAT HANNAH SAID</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER 3. THE CLOSED HOUSE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER 4. KICKS AND HALFPENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER 5. CLOUDS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER 6. AN EMPTY OFFER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER 7. “THE MONSTER”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER 8. BOUND FOR BURMA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER 9. THE “BLANKSHIRE”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER 10. THE LAND OF PROMISE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER 11. A BURMESE HOSTESS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER 12. EAST AND WEST</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER 13. “KEEP AN EYE UPON HER”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER 14. THE MANTLE OF FERNANDA</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER 15. THE CHUMMERY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER 16. MR. AND MRS. ABELSALTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER 17. AT THE PLAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER 18. THE CHINESE SHOP</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER 19. CHAFF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER 20. THE PONGYE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER 21. THE COCAINE DEN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER 22. THE APPROACHING DREAD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER 23. MYSTERY AND SUSPICION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER 24. SENTENCE OF DEATH</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER 25. THE LATE RICHARD ROSCOE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER 26. FITZGERALD IMPARTS INFORMATION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER 27. A ROPE TRICK</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap28">CHAPTER 28. MA CHIT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap29">CHAPTER 29. MUNG BAW</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap30">CHAPTER 30. ENLIGHTENMENT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap31">CHAPTER 31. SEEING IS BELIEVING</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap32">CHAPTER 32. ON DUTY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap33">CHAPTER 33. SOPHY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap34">CHAPTER 34. ALL IS OVER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap35">CHAPTER 35. MUNG BAW LIES LOW</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap36">CHAPTER 36. THE BOMBSHELL</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap37">CHAPTER 37. THE TUG OF WAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap38">CHAPTER 38. SERGEANT-MAJOR RYAN</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>THE ROAD TO MANDALAY</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I<br/> +BLINDS DOWN</h2> + +<p> +“What do you think, Mitty? All the blinds are down at ‘Littlecote,’” announced +Miss Jane Tebbs, bursting open the drawing-room door and disturbing her sister +in a surreptitious game of patience. In well-ordered households the mistress is +understood to have various domestic tasks claiming her attention in the +morning. Cards should never appear until after sunset. +</p> + +<p> +“Blinds down?” echoed Miss Tebbs, hastily moving a newspaper in the hope of +concealing her ill-doing. “Why are you in such a taking, Jane? I suppose the +family are away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rubbish!” exclaimed her relative, sinking into a chair and dragging off her +gloves. “Did you ever know them all away together? Of course, Mrs. Shafto goes +gadding, and Douglas is at Sandhurst, but ‘he’ seldom stirs. It is my opinion +that something has happened. The Shaftos have lived at ‘Littlecote’ for ten +years, and I have never seen the blinds down before to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are so fussy and ready to imagine things!” grumbled Mitty, who +meanwhile had collected and pocketed the cards with surpassing dexterity. “I +don’t forget the time when the curate had a smart lady in his lodgings, and you +nearly went out of your mind: rampaging up and down the village, and telling +everyone that the bishop must be informed; and after all your outcry she turned +out to be the young man’s mother!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true. I confess I was misled; but she made herself up to look like a +girl of twenty. You can’t deny that she powdered her nose and wore white shoes. +But this is different. Drawn blinds are a sign of trouble, and there is trouble +at ‘Littlecote,’ as sure as my name is Jane.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, in that case, why don’t you go up to the house and inquire?”—The query +suggested a challenge. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mitty</i>! You know perfectly well that I have never been inside the door +since Mrs. Shafto was so rude to me about the book club, when I wrote and +protested against the ‘loose’ novels she put upon her list. Why, you saw her +letter yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +Here a pause ensued, during which Miss Jane blew into every separate finger of +her gloves and folded them up with the neatest exactitude. Presently she +murmured with a meditative air: +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking of asking Eliza to run over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you may ask!” rejoined her sister, with a sniff of scorn, “but Eliza won’t +stir. There’s a beefsteak pudding for dinner. And that reminds me that this is +the egg woman’s day, and I must see if she has called. I shall want three +dozen.” +</p> + +<p> +And without another word the elder Miss Tebbs bustled out of the room and +abandoned her relative to solitude and speculation. +</p> + +<p> +Matilda and Jane Tebbs were the elderly orphans of a late vicar, and still +considered the parish and community of Tadpool their special charge. Miss Jane +was organist and Sunday school superintendent; Miss Tebbs held mothers’ +meetings and controlled the maternity basket and funds. Subsequent to their +retirement from the vicarage the sisters had known straitened circumstances; in +fact, had experienced the sharp nip of real poverty; but, no matter how painful +their necessities, they contrived to keep up appearances and never withdrew +from society, nor suffered their little circle to forget that their grandfather +had been an archdeacon. In spite of anxious times and scanty funds, they clung +with loyal tenacity to certain family relics, in the shape of old silver, china +and prints, many of which were highly marketable. +</p> + +<p> +In those evil days it was whispered that “the Tebbs had only one best dress +between them”—a certain rich black silk. As Miss Jane was at least six inches +taller than dumpy Miss Mitty, difficulties of length were cunningly surmounted +by an adjustable flounce. Needless to add that on festive occasions, such as +high teas, little dinners, and card parties, the sisters never appeared +together, the one “out of turn” invariably excusing herself with toothache or a +heavy cold. Although they argued and bickered in private, and had opposing +tastes in the matter of boiling eggs and drawing tea, the Tebbs were a deeply +attached pair and presented an unbroken front to the outer world. +</p> + +<p> +After several years of brave struggle, during which the wolf of want prowled +hungrily round Highfield Cottage, a substantial and unexpected fortune, fell to +the Tebbs, restored them to comfortable independence—and to the notice of such +far-sighted parents as happened to be in quest of useful and benevolent +godmothers. The sisters made but little change in their style of living; they +now owned handsome furs, a separate wardrobe, and not a few rich silks; they +still continued to occupy the cottage, and retained in their service a certain +tyrannical treasure, widely known and feared as “the Tebbs’s Eliza.” Although +an admirable and trustworthy servant, Eliza ruled the household, permitted no +late hours, no breakfasts in bed, no unnecessary fires, no unnecessary guests. +Her mistresses were obliged to do a considerable amount of household work; for +instance, they made their beds and Miss Tebbs dusted the china; she also had +the charge of the linen and store-room; whilst Miss Jane was responsible for +the silver, the lamps, and, on Eliza’s day out, “the door.” +</p> + +<p> +When the door was answered by Eliza in person, her manner was so fierce and +intimidating that nervous callers complained that the Tebbs’ maid looked as if +she was ready to fly at, and bite them! Ill-natured tongues declared that the +tyrant was tolerated merely because she was a channel for the most +far-reaching, fresh and sensational gossip. But let us hope that this was a +malignant libel! +</p> + +<p> +Highfield Cottage was old, two-storied and solid; elsewhere than Tadpool it +might have ventured to pose as a villa residence, but Tadpool, a fine, +sixteenth century, self-respecting and historical village, tolerated no villas. +If such abodes ventured to arise, they sprouted timidly in the fields beyond +its boundaries. Moreover, the age and history of Highfield Cottage were too +widely known for any change of name. The cottage was connected with the high +road by a prim little garden and a red-tiled footpath; eight long narrow +windows commanded a satisfactory outlook—including Littlecote Hall—a square +white mansion withdrawn in dignified retirement behind elms and beeches, in age +the contemporary of its humbler <i>vis-à-vis</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Here resided Edward Shafto, late Fellow of St. John’s, Oxford, his wife +Lucilla, and his son Douglas. Ten years previously the family had descended on +Tadpool as from the skies—or as a heavy stone cast into some quiet mill pond. +No one in the neighbourhood could discover anything about them—although Jane +Tebbs’s exertions in the matter were admittedly prodigious and unwearied. The +house agent proved disappointingly vague, and could only inform her that a +gentleman who happened to hear of the place had come down from London, +inspected the house, liked its lofty, spacious rooms with their old mahogany +doors (it recalled his home), was much taken with the gardens—and promptly +signed the lease! Certainly it was an audacious step to invade a strange +neighbourhood without a social sponsor or reference. However, the community +breathed more freely when they beheld the new tenant of “Littlecote,” a +middle-aged, distinguished-looking individual; and Miss Jane discovered, or +pretended to discover, that he was one of the Shaftos of Shafton Court. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Shafto (who looked surprisingly young to be the mother of a tall lad of +ten) had a pretty figure, quantities of lightish red hair, an animated manner, +and a pair of hard blue eyes. She was fashionably turned out, and her hat of a +remarkable shape was discussed in the village for weeks. +</p> + +<p> +The arrival of furniture vans, horses, carriages and a number of servants, +afforded unqualified interest to the Misses Tebbs; and moreover advertised the +fact that the new-comers were well-to-do; and after allowing a reasonable time +for the strangers to settle down, the neighbours called. +</p> + +<p> +By and by these calls were returned by Mrs. Shafto in a smart victoria and a +still smarter costume; her husband was merely represented by a neatly printed +card, which bore the name of “Mr. Edward Shafto, Athenaeum Club.” Mr. Edward +Shafto was rarely to be met beyond his grounds and garden, unless driving +through the village to Bricklands railway station, en route for London. He did +not sit on the Bench, nor was he a churchwarden, the usual grounds of meeting. +When encountered he was invariably agreeable and had charming easy manners, but +not much to say for himself, and his acquaintance, like the farmers and the +claret, got “no forrarder.” Gradually the painful truth was accepted that +Shafto did not care to know people. He never dined out, he did not shoot or +hunt, but it was mysteriously whispered that “he wrote.” What, no one precisely +knew, but one fact was common property: he was fond of horticulture and the +once famous gardens of “Littlecote” had been delightfully restored. +</p> + +<p> +If Tadpool was held at arm’s length by Edward Shafto, the community had no +difficulty in making acquaintance with his consort, a pretty vivacious lady who +accepted all invitations, and herself gave tennis parties, bridge parties, +luncheons and teas. For some time the neighbourhood was disposed to like her, +although perhaps she was not quite “off the top shelf,” a little too +demonstrative, loud and unreserved; then by degrees Mrs. Shafto fell into +disfavour; quiet folk were afraid of her, she enjoyed repeating ill-natured +remarks, was capricious in her likes and dislikes, made a good deal of +mischief, and separated chief friends. +</p> + +<p> +The lady was not disposed to be reticent respecting her family affairs; there +was something satisfactory in this! People learned that her husband was really +a Shafto of Shafton, and also that his elder brother, who actually reigned in +the family place, was “a brute.” She volubly explained that they had deserted +the Border and moved south, partly because “the pater” wished to be within easy +reach of London, his Club and musty old libraries, and also because it was more +convenient for Douglas, who was at Winchester. +</p> + +<p> +Then gradually it came to pass that the village bored the new-comer; bored her +to death. She became restless and quarrelsome, had a coolness with the vicarage +regarding a pew, with Mrs. Tremenheere at the Park about a housemaid, and +actually cut Mrs. General Finch “dead” in the village post office, owing to a +mislaid visiting-card. At the end of three years Lucilla Shafto had embroiled +herself with almost everyone in her immediate vicinity, and found her true +level and most congenial companions in the busy bustling town of Bricklands, a +rapidly growing and prosperous mushroom place, situated thirty miles south of +London, and within two miles of our ancient and respectable hamlet. Here she +belonged to several clubs, bridge, tennis and croquet; enjoyed being a Triton +among minnows; entertained a third-rate set at “Littlecote,” and joined gay +little theatre parties to London to “do a play,” and return home by the last +train. +</p> + +<p> +Housekeeping sat but lightly on Mrs. Shafto’s graceful shoulders, for the +Shaftos also possessed a family treasure named Hannah, an elderly woman, who +had been in service with “the family” and now managed the house, and looked +after the comforts and buttons of her master and his boy. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. and Mrs. Shafto went their separate ways, and were rarely to be seen in one +another’s company. The lady assured her friends that her husband’s health was +indifferent, and that he did not care for society; for her part she liked +amusement, excitement, life; whilst he preferred to read, write, overlook his +garden, and occasionally run up to London. She did not trouble herself much +about her son—a handsome active boy, resembling his father in looks. Between +these there undoubtedly existed a deep affection. During the holidays they were +frequently to be met walking or riding together, and Shafto <i>pére</i> would +so far emerge from his retirement as to be a proud spectator at cricket matches +in Tremenheere Park and elsewhere. Douglas and two of the Tremenheere boys were +schoolmates, and he was in continual request at their home. Unfortunately these +visits were displeasing to Mrs. Shafto, as was also his intimacy with the young +people at the vicarage; and poor Douglas had an awkward part to play. He could +not avoid or drop his friends; yet, on the other hand, there were painful +difficulties with his mother, who declared that he was a mean fellow to run +after people who had <i>insulted</i> her, and one day, when in a towering +passion, she had been overheard to scream “that he was a thorn in her side, and +a true Shafto!” +</p> + +<p> +But all this time Miss Jane Tebbs remains stationed at the drawing-room window, +watching the road with unwinking vigilance. For a long while she beheld no +object of special interest, but at last, after seeing the grocer’s cart, a +travelling tinker, two cows and a boy go by, her patience was handsomely +rewarded. To her delight, she descried Mrs. Billing, the doctor’s wife, emerge +from “Littlecote” and, hammering on the window to attract notice, she flew down +to open the hall door. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Billing, a stout, middle-aged lady, looked unusually hot and flustered as +she waddled through the little green gate and entered the cottage. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my dear, you seem quite upset!” cried Jane, as she welcomed the visitor, +“come into the dining-room, and have a glass of milk.” +</p> + +<p> +But Mrs. Billing dismissing the proffered refreshment with a dramatic wave of +her hand, subsided upon the only chair in the narrow hall and gasped out: +</p> + +<p> +“I have just come from ‘Littlecote.’ Mr. Shafto is gone—he died last night!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II<br/> +WHAT HANNAH SAID</h2> + +<p> +On hearing this announcement, Jane Tebbs gave a little lurch and leant against +the wall in speechless horror; and yet in her heart she had been more than half +expecting—we will not say hoping for—some tragedy. Then she made a rush to the +store-room, where Miss Mitty, invested in a large blue apron, was methodically +marking eggs. +</p> + +<p> +“Sister, sister, come out!” she cried. “Mrs. Billing is here; she says Mr. +Shafto is dead; I told you that something had happened!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” repeated Mitty, staring blankly at her relative. Then she cast aside +her apron and hurried into the hall. “Let us all go into the dining-room,” she +continued, leading the way. “What a shocking thing, Mrs. Billing!”—turning to +her visitor. “Do tell us the particulars. I can hardly believe it! Why, I saw +Mr. Shafto in Bricklands on Tuesday, and he looked as well as he ever did in +his life.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the day he heard the news,” announced Mrs. Billing, selecting an +arm-chair and casting off her feather boa. +</p> + +<p> +“Bad news?” suggested Miss Jane. +</p> + +<p> +“Very bad indeed—could not be worse. He heard he’d lost every penny he +possessed in the wide world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great patience!” ejaculated Miss Tebbs; “you don’t say so; but how?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know he was always comfortably off; indeed, one might say rich.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true! They keep five maids indoors, and a charwoman three times a week, +two men and a boy in the garden, and two men in the stables,” glibly enumerated +Miss Jane. “All that is not done on small means, and I happen to know that Mr. +Shafto himself paid everything monthly—which is more than we can say for his +wife; even her bridge losses”; here she halted on the brink of scandal. +</p> + +<p> +After hesitating for a second, Mrs. Billing continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it appears, from what my husband can gather, that Mr. Shafto trusted all +his money and investments to a man who had managed his affairs for years, and +in whom he had the most absolute confidence; he just drew his income regularly, +lived his quiet life, and never troubled his head about business. It seems that +for a considerable time this agent had been speculating with his clients’ +capital, and paying them the interest to the day. He staved off the reckoning +by every possible device, and when he could no longer hide his wickedness, when +liabilities poured in, and proceedings were instituted, he shot himself! Not +much comfort in that for the families he has beggared. I believe he had a +splendid establishment at Hampstead; greenhouses, pictures, motor-cars, and +entertained like a prince. He squandered the handsome fortune that was left to +Mr. Shafto, and all that Mr. Shafto could be sure of, about a hundred and fifty +pounds a year, belongs to Douglas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, never mind the money, but do tell us about poor Mr. Shafto,” +urged Jane. “What was the cause of his death? Suicide? This morning I thought I +heard a shot!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no—heart failure,” hastily interposed Mrs. Billing. “He was always +troubled with a rickety heart, and on several occasions my husband attended him +for rather dangerous fainting attacks; no doubt that was partly the reason why +he lived so quietly, just taken up with his books, his garden, and, when he was +at home, his boy. It appears that when Mr. Shafto heard of the smash, he went +straight up to London, interviewed a lawyer, and learnt the worst. He returned +in the afternoon, very tired and excited, broke the news to his wife, and had a +serious fainting attack. My husband was sent for, but he found Mr. Shafto +sinking. He died at midnight. He himself had wired for Douglas, who arrived +just in time for the end. Poor boy! He feels it terribly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” assented Miss Mitty, “Douglas and his father were such friends. The loss +of money will make a sad difference to him. There will be no going into the +Army now, no more hunting and cricket; he will have to take a clerkship. Did +you see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He and my Freddy are great pals, so I know him pretty well. I declare he +gave me a shock, he looked utterly heart-broken; and he said: ‘It is so sudden, +so frightfully sudden—about the pater; the money may come back somehow or +other, but he is gone for ever; I’ll never see him again. If he had only known +me—or spoken to me!’ And then he just laid his head upon his arms and sobbed +like a girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Mrs. Shafto, how does <i>she</i> bear this double loss?” inquired Miss +Jane magisterially. +</p> + +<p> +“She had one fit of screaming hysterics after another. If you ask <i>me</i>, I +believe it’s the money that touches her most keenly; my husband begged me to go +up this morning, and see if I could do anything. She has no intimate friends +here, and I have sent to Mrs. Boomer and Mrs. Jake; they will be over from +Bricklands immediately. The doctor has given a certificate, and has undertaken +to see about the funeral, and sent the notice to the <i>Times</i> and +<i>Morning Post</i>. From what old Hannah told me, it seems that Mr. Shafto and +his family were not on terms; I believe the quarrel had something to do”—she +paused and glanced from one to the other of her eager listeners—“with Mrs. +Shafto, and I am not surprised. They did not approve of the marriage—it was a +mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid it was,” agreed Miss Mitty briskly; “they never appeared a +well-matched couple; he, so reserved and aristocratic, and she such a gabbling, +fluffy, restless creature—crazy about bridge and dress. I wonder who she was?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you that!” was Mrs. Billing’s unexpected reply. “Mr. Shafto was a +Fellow of his College at Oxford, wealthy and distinguished—he had taken no end +of honours. He was hooked—there is no other word for it—by the niece of a local +book-seller! He was an important customer, and the girl always contrived to be +there, when he came in and out, and was so sympathetic, and bright and lively, +as well as being uncommonly pretty, that the poor man lost his head and, with +very little pressure from the uncle, married her. It was all scrambled up in a +hurry, before his friends could turn round, or interfere. Of course he had to +resign his fellowship and his beautiful rooms overlooking the garden, and he +took his bride abroad. His relations dropped him and he dropped his Oxford +friends; then he went and settled in the north. He must have lived there for +years; his next move was here.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you always known this?” demanded Miss Mitty, her countenance +expressing injury and jealousy. Fancy Mrs. Billing knowing this story all that +time and keeping it to herself; how sly! +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, only lately,” replied the visitor in an apologetic key; “an old aunt of +mine lives in Oxford, and I met her in town last Easter. Somehow the name of +Shafto cropped up, and I heard the whole tale. I told my husband and he said +I’d better hold my tongue, and so I have, until now, when it’s of no +consequence who knows—as of course ‘Littlecote’ must be given up, and the +Shaftos will go away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we have often wondered who she was? and how Shafto—who looked like a +duke—came to marry her,” said Miss Tebbs; “such an odd, flighty, uncertain sort +of creature, always for strangers, instead of her home. That poor boy never saw +much of his mother; I believe he was hustled off to a preparatory school when +he was about seven, and when he happened to be here for his holidays it was his +father who took him about. I am very sorry for Douglas, a handsome, cheery, +nice fellow,” she continued, “always with a pleasant word, even for an old +woman like me. The rectory lads and the Tremenheeres just love him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Luckily there are no girls at the rectory,” remarked Miss Mitty. +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas is but nineteen, and really only a boy,” protested Mrs. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this affair will make a man of him, or I’m greatly mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“More likely it will make him a slave,” argued Jane; “he is bound to support +his mother, and a hundred and fifty pounds a year won’t go far with her! And +now I dare say she will have her wish and be able to live in London. I suppose +there will be an auction at ‘Littlecote’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, of course,” assented Mrs. Billing, “and that is sure to bring in a +handsome sum—unless there are liabilities and debts. I’ve always admired that +Crown Derby tea service—dark blue and gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” rejoined Miss Tebbs, “a beautiful long set, and there’s a nice little +old Sheffield tea urn that we could do with! I expect the kitchen things will +go pretty cheap; we want a new preserving pan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Talking of the kitchen, reminds me of food,” remarked the visitor rising. “My +husband will be back clamouring for his lunch and I must run,” and in spite of +her size, Mrs. Billing was out of the house in less than no time, pursued by a +volley of questions to the very gate. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +During that afternoon there was an unusual amount of visiting and talking; the +recent event had stirred the village to its depths, but beyond the facts +disclosed by Mrs. Billing everything was surmise and regret; the personality of +the late Edward Shafto, though slightly known, was much respected. “He was a +gentleman”—the statement implied a left-handed compliment to his wife—“and his +purse was ever open to the poor; it was said that he was a secret benefactor to +various aged people, and to the local charities.” +</p> + +<p> +As the Misses Tebbs sat at supper the following night—a frugal meal of cocoa +and bread and butter—Eliza tramped in, still wearing her hat; it had been her +afternoon out. She seemed to be a little breathless, and was undoubtedly +charged with some weighty intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Eliza, what is it?” eagerly inquired Miss Tebbs. +</p> + +<p> +“I just thought I’d step over to ‘Littlecote’ this evening, and see Hannah.” +Oh, priceless handmaiden! +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—and what did she tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +Eliza placed her hands on her hips—invariable preliminary to an important +announcement. “She took me to see the corpse; he looked beautiful, just like a +marble statue; and there in front of the dead, what do you think Hannah told +me? That Mrs. Shafto had <i>killed</i> him!” She paused to contemplate the +effect of this statement. “Yes, his heart was always weak, he couldn’t stand no +shocks, and when he come back wore out from London, and told her as how he was +ruined, the screams of that woman was enough to bring the house down! Hannah +ran in and there was he, lying back in a chair, and she standing over him with +a face all worked up, and her hands clenched, shouting at him that it was all +through his lunacy and laziness they were beggared—and she wished he was +<i>dead</i>. I couldn’t tell you all the awful things she said, but he fainted +right away and never come to again. Now, what do you say to that?” and she +surveyed her audience judicially. +</p> + +<p> +The sisters remained dumb; for once, speech had failed them. +</p> + +<p> +“As for caring,” continued Eliza, “Mrs. Shafto doesn’t feel no more than this +table,” rapping it with her bony knuckles; “all she minds is about <i>the +money</i>—and already they say she has been routing among his papers, searching +for his bank book. Oh! she is an awful woman, her heart is just a stone. As for +poor Master Douglas, now there’s real grief! He hasn’t tasted a bite or sup, +and he looks crushed. Everyone in the place will be sorry for him and for his +father; but as far as Mrs. Shafto is concerned, when she’s paid off the money +she owes—the sooner the place can get shut of her the better!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III<br/> +THE CLOSED HOUSE</h2> + +<p> +The break-up of the home at Littlecote Hall was a speedy and complete affair; +Miss Jane Tebbs, being practically on the spot, volunteered invaluable +assistance. Always energetic and anxious to be “up and doing,” and with a sadly +restricted field for her activities, here was a grand opportunity absolutely +within her reach. The second Miss Tebbs had an immense acquaintance and +correspondence, a fairly, good business head and, to her late enemy Mrs. +Shafto, she ultimately proved a veritable tower of strength. The recent sad +catastrophe had melted Jane’s heart, and she promptly appeared in “Littlecote” +drawing-room, waving a large olive branch—which her former adversary most +thankfully accepted. In such a crisis as the present there was no more +helpless, hopeless creature than Lucilla Shafto—a woman who was always ready to +transfer her burdens to others. Strange to say, she somewhat distrusted her +intimates in Bricklands; it seemed to her that their questions and sympathy +were chiefly founded on vulgar curiosity and greedy self-interest. “How was she +left? What had become of all the money? What was the boy going to do? Where +would she settle? Would she not be glad to get rid of some of her smart summer +clothes, now that she would be in weeds for at least two years? <i>What</i> +about her sables?” +</p> + +<p> +Jane Tebbs was totally different; an honest and single-hearted woman, she wrote +business letters, interviewed the local agent, arranged for the auction and,—O +wonderful and miraculous achievement!—was even instrumental in getting rid of +the lease. +</p> + +<p> +It was not surprising in all these circumstances that Mrs. Shafto should cling +as a limpet to Jane Tebbs, whom she had so often apostrophised as a “meddling, +mischievous, malignant old cat,” but Lucilla Shafto was suffering from a +violent mental shock. The sudden descent, as it were in one day, from +comfortable affluence to a very narrow income, had temporarily stunned her, and +she had a secret conviction that if she were to leave her affairs in the +capable hands of her nearest neighbour, all would be well. She therefore +remained secluded in her own spacious bedroom, whilst busy Jane undertook her +affairs; helped with the auction list, interviewed the tradespeople, and, +accompanied by the boy, went up to London to confer with Mr. Shafto’s lawyers. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas was subdued; he seemed a different creature, so silent and pale, but +keenly anxious to put his shoulder to the wheel. He had withdrawn from +Sandhurst and, in conversations with the Tremenheeres, informed them that his +idea of going into the Army was knocked on the head, and that he now intended +to look out for some job in the City. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be supposed that Jane Tebbs, the indefatigable, was the only +neighbour who had come forward with offers of assistance to the widow; the +Tremenheeres, the vicarage, and many other acquaintances had been sincere in +their sympathy and goodwill, but somehow or other Mrs. Shafto would have none +of them! She refused to see the vicar or his wife, and lay in bed most of the +day bewailing her fate, scribbling answers to letters of condolence, and +occasionally dipping into a novel. “Read she must,” she declared, “as it +diverted her mind from the too dreadful present. A good novel was the best of +anodynes.” +</p> + +<p> +The auction at “Littlecote” proved an important local event, and threw the +annual Church bazaar woefully into the shade. It lasted three summer days and +enabled a substantial sum to be placed to the credit of Edward Shafto’s widow. +Unfortunately Edward Shafto’s widow had considerable private debts and, when +these were settled, five hundred pounds was all that remained for investment. +</p> + +<p> +As is proverbial with respect to auctions, good and even valuable lots went in +some cases for the traditional old song; it is on record that Mrs. Shafto’s +smart victoria was sold to a jobmaster for six pounds, Mrs. Billing secured a +wonderful bargain in the Crown Derby tea service, and the Sheffield tea urn +fell to Miss Tebbs for ten shillings and sixpence! On the other hand, rubbish +was at a premium. The kitchen utensils were dispersed at an alarmingly high +figure, and a Turkey carpet, aged twenty years, fetched more than its original +cost. +</p> + +<p> +The sale was over. Needless to say, it had afforded enormous interest to the +inmates of Highfield Cottage. Miss Jane could almost tell the price and history +of each individual lot. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time the great placards of advertisement were torn off the gate +piers at “Littlecote,” the house was closed, and once more the blinds were +down. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV<br/> +KICKS AND HALFPENCE</h2> + +<p> +More than four years had elapsed since Mrs. Shafto and her son had driven away +from “Littlecote” behind a pair of smart bay steppers. (The widow was +determined to keep up what she was pleased to call “her position” to the last.) +Immediately succeeding this dignified exit came a woeful change in their +circumstances. Mrs. Shafto was obliged to make the best of boarding-house and +’bus, and Douglas, thanks to the exertions of his friends the Tremenheeres, +found a situation in a mercantile house in the City. There was no time for him +to pick and choose. It was imperative that he should begin to earn without +delay, and not, as his parent frankly remarked, “look to a poor widow for +support.” This condition of abject poverty was, she declared, “entirely due to +his father’s criminal carelessness respecting his affairs. She had what would +barely keep her alive”—170 pounds per annum—“and that was all.” As for Douglas, +he must work. +</p> + +<p> +Although they were not congenial companions Douglas faithfully accompanied his +mother in her varied wanderings, supported her in action with enraged +landladies, helped her out of a libel case, covered her reverses and retreats, +and lived by command under the same roof. +</p> + +<p> +For the last eighteen months the pair had been established at a well-managed +private hotel in Lincoln Square, Bayswater, W. “Malahide” was a flourishing +concern; two substantial houses had been thrown into one; the rooms were +spacious, clean, and adequately furnished; the food was plain but abundant. The +double drawing-room contained a fine piano, one or two sofas, and card tables; +also a sufficiency of sound and reliable chairs; but not an ornament, save two +clocks—not one paper fan, nor bunch of coloured grasses, nor a single +antimacassar, not even a shell! Such amazing restraint gave the apartments an +empty but dignified appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Among its various advantages, “Malahide” was within a few minutes’ walk of “the +Grove,” and “Underground,” a situation which appealed to men in business and to +women whose chief occupation was shopping. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Shafto appreciated her present quarters for several excellent reasons. +Here she had no giggling young rivals and was, even at forty-five, the +best-looking and best-dressed of all the lady boarders. Moreover, she had found +a friend and admirer in her neighbour at meals—a certain Mr. Manasseh Levison, +a widower, with a stout figure, a somewhat fleshy nose, and a pair of fine +piercing black eyes. He was the proprietor of a fashionable and flourishing +antiquities and furniture business in a well-known thoroughfare, and was +considered one of the best judges of old silver and china in the trade. +</p> + +<p> +It exasperated Shafto to listen to his mother’s “table talk,” and he made a +point of sitting as far as possible from her vicinity. She liked to impress +Levison and other with highly-coloured reminiscences of her grand +acquaintances; even the Tremenheeres—with whom she had quarrelled so +bitterly—were dragged in and shown off as intimates. More than once Shafto had +felt his face burn, as exaggerations and glorifications were unfolded in his +parent’s far-carrying and assertive treble. +</p> + +<p> +Besides Mr. Manasseh Levison, were the two Misses Smith—twins—genteel, +middle-aged spinsters, who, until the arrival of the sprightly and attractive +widow, had alternately cherished high hopes of the wealthy Jew. Their chief +energies were devoted to the task of blowing one another’s trumpets, thereby +drawing attention to particular virtues and modestly hidden accomplishments. +For example, the elder would say: +</p> + +<p> +“Darling Ella is so clever at cooking, as good as any French chef, her sauces +and savouries are too wonderful.” +</p> + +<p> +They were! +</p> + +<p> +And Ella, in repayment, assured her listeners that Jessie had a perfect genius +for gardening and housekeeping; and yet it was whispered that this effusively +fond couple, when alone, quarrelled and wrangled as cruelly as the notorious +Kilkenny cats. +</p> + +<p> +Among other patrons at “Malahide” were two quiet, polite little Japanese +gentlemen, Mr. Den and Mr. Yabe; Madame Galli, a shrivelled old woman in a +cheap wig, with sharp rat’s eyes that nothing escaped, the soul of good nature, +rich, miserly and incredibly mischievous. There were several boarders who were +in business in the City, and Mr. Hutton, a careworn man of fifty, who spent his +days working in the British Museum. Next to him at table sat Douglas Shafto, +now a well set-up, self-possessed young fellow, who still retained something of +the cheery voice and manner of the Public School boy. Thanks to his steadiness +and fair knowledge of French and German, he was drawing a salary of a hundred +and fifty per annum. +</p> + +<p> +His neighbour on the left happened to be his own cousin, Sandy Larcher, older +by three years, and in the same office, but receiving a lower “screw,” Sandy +was of the “knut” tribe, a confident authority on dress, noisy, slangy, and +familiar; much given to cigarettes and music-halls, a slacker at work, but +remarkably active at play and, on the whole, rather a good sort. +</p> + +<p> +Sandy’s mother, Mrs. Larcher, the widow of a cab proprietor, was Mrs. Shafto’s +only sister, and in the days of that sister’s glory had never obtruded herself; +but now that poor Lucilla had come down in the world, she had advanced with +open arms, and at “Monte Carlo,” the abode of the Larcher family, Mrs. Shafto +occasionally spent a week end. The “go-as-you-please” atmosphere, late hours, +breakfast in bed, and casual meals, recalled old, and not unhappy times. Mrs. +Larcher, who had never been a beauty, was now a fat woman past fifty, lazy, +good-natured, and absolutely governed by her children. Besides Sandy, the +dandy, she had two daughters, Delia and Cossie. +</p> + +<p> +Delia was on the stage (musical comedy), petite, piquant, and very lively; a +true grasshopper, living only for the summer; a loud, reckless but respectable +young woman, who, having but thirty shillings a week salary and to find her own +“tights,” was ever ready to accept motor drives, dinners, or a smart hat, or +frock, from any of her “boys.” Cossie, the stay-at-home, was round-faced and +plump; a tireless talker and tennis player. She managed the house, held the +slender purse, accepted her sister’s cast-offs, and always had a “case” on with +somebody. Cossie was exceedingly anxious (being the eldest of the family) to +secure a home of her own, and made this alarmingly obvious. +</p> + +<p> +To “Monte Carlo” Douglas, the highly presentable cousin, was frequently +commanded by both mother and aunt. At first he had hated this duty, but +nevertheless went, in order to please and silence his parent, whose hand plied +the goad and who otherwise “nagged” at him in public and in private. In private +she pointed out that the Larcher family were his own blood relations, “so +different from his father’s side of the house, which, since his death, had +ignored both her and him, and never even sent a wreath to the funeral!” By slow +and painful degrees Douglas became accustomed to “Monte Carlo”; at first the +manners and customs of his cousins had a rasping effect, and it was more than a +year before he really fell into line, and visited his kindred without pressure. +The girls were not bad-looking—in a flamboyant style—and effusively +good-natured; they took his chaff and criticism without offence, and accepted +with giggles his hints with respect to manners and appearance. When Douglas +happened to be expected, they did not stroll about slip-shod in dressing-gowns, +with their hair hanging loose, or bombard one another with corks and crusts. +</p> + +<p> +For his part, he brought them books and chocolates, watered the garden, mowed +the tennis ground, mended the bells, and made himself generally useful. At +first this flashy, muddling, free-and-easy household had disgusted him; and his +cool assured manner and critical air irritated his relatives; whilst his +attitude of superior comment had proved a vexatious restraint. But week by week +Douglas came to see that it was to this particular class he now belonged. These +were his nearest relatives, and he told himself that he must endeavour to +accommodate himself to circumstances—and them; otherwise he was a snob, a +beastly snob! +</p> + +<p> +His first Christmas holidays had been spent at “Tremenheere,” where he had +received a heart-warming welcome. Other school friends had also claimed him, +but his time was now mortgaged to the office, and by degrees correspondence and +intimacy languished—or, rather, changed. His contemporaries had gone forth into +the wide world; the Army, the Diplomatic Service, and India, had summoned them, +their paths in life lay far apart from that of a mere correspondence clerk, and +only the old birds remained in the nests. Those who were in England wrote and +made arrangements for meetings in town, but Shafto found ready and real excuses +and generally withdrew from his former circle. He liked his friends—nothing +could offer him so much pleasure as their company—but he realised that in time +they would arrive at the parting of the ways, and it was for him to make the +first step in that direction; in such homes as “Monte Carlo” he must in future +find society and entertainment. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +“Monte Carlo” (sixpence return, third class, from town, and eight minutes’ walk +from the station) was a grotesque, little red-faced abode, situated among a +tangle of villas and roads. It stood detached in a garden, with—O! theme of +pride—a full-sized tennis court. There were also several flower beds, and six +unhappy gooseberry bushes, but <i>the</i> feature was the lawn; here also were +seats and a small striped awning. The grounds of “Monte Carlo” were only +divided from its immediate neighbours by a thin wooden partition—there was no +such thing as privacy or seclusion. Conversation was audible, and the +boisterous jokes of “Chatsworth” and “Travancore” were thoroughly enjoyed at +“Monte Carlo.” In the same way “Monte Carlo” overheard various interesting +items of news, some sharp quarrels and, once or twice, unpleasant personal +truths! On the last occasion, the remark was so unfriendly (it dealt with +Cossie’s methods) that when “Chatsworth,” ignorant of offence, sent the same +evening an emissary to borrow three pints of stout, the reply was a harsh +refusal! +</p> + +<p> +Within doors space was naturally more contracted, but the click of the opposite +gate, the sound of the next door dinner-bell and gramophone remained, as it +were, common property! The tiny hall was choked with umbrellas, wraps, tennis +shoes, and tattered sixpenny books; the drawing-room, with its pink casement +curtains, gaudy cretonne covers, huge signed photographs, jars of dusty +artificial flowers, packs of dingy cards, and scraps of millinery, looked +“lived in”—but tawdry and untidy. The big Chesterfield sofa—a wonderful +bargain—had broken springs (perhaps it was not such a wonderful bargain?) and +many hills and hollows. In the roomiest of these last the mistress of the house +was more or less a fixture, and the whole apartment, like a <i>passée</i> +beauty, was to be seen at its best by candle-light. +</p> + +<p> +The dining-room was chiefly notable for the heavy atmosphere of tobacco, and +multitudes of empty black bottles under the sideboard. The kitchen, both in +sound and smell, absolutely refused to be ignored. Such was “Monte Carlo!” +</p> + +<p> +The inmates of “Malahide” have received honourable mention, but nothing has +been said of Mrs. Malone, the proprietress, who kept the establishment running, +as it were, on well-oiled wheels. Joyce Malone was an Irishwoman who had met +with cruel reverses. Well born, well educated, and an almost penniless widow, +she thankfully accepted the post of housekeeper in a nobleman’s family, and +there remained until her savings, and a timely legacy, enabled her to set up +for herself. From the first she had met with success. Her terms were moderate; +butter, eggs and poultry came from her native land; there was no skimping of +coals, or hot water; and clients—who became permanent—flocked to “Malahide.” In +appearance Mrs. Malone was a tall old woman, with a stoop, who shuffled a +little as she walked, and always wore a black gown, a gold Indian chain, and a +white lace cap with ribbon bows. She kept severely aloof from her guests and +had her own little lair on the second landing. It was, she said, “her business +to see to domestic matters, and not to gossip or play bridge.” Nevertheless, +she had her favourites: Mr. Hutton and young Shafto. (Envy and malice declared +that Mrs. Malone had <i>no</i> favourites among her own sex.) She was drawn to +the boy by his air of good breeding and admirable manners; also she noticed +with secret indignation how shamefully his mother neglected and snubbed him. +She took far more notice of Jimmy Black, or Sandy Larcher, than of her own son. +No doubt she disliked to be so unmistakably dated by his tall, well-grown +youth, and her hostess mentally agreed with a gossip who declared that “Mrs. +Shafto didn’t care a pin for her boy—rather the other way, and if she had kept +her figure, she could never keep her word, or a secret—and was a hard, selfish, +grasping woman.” +</p> + +<p> +Although Shafto and his mother lived under the same roof, she, figuratively, +sat with folded hands as far as he was concerned; it was kindly Mrs. Malone who +looked after his little comforts, saw that his socks were mended, and made him +a hot drink when he had a heavy cold. Also, as a special honour, she invited +him to her “den,” gave him a cup of coffee, or a glass of port, and talked to +him of her Irish home and her young days. Once upon a time she had been a +capital horsewoman, and it was strange to hear this old lady and the +bright-eyed youth comparing notable runs. +</p> + +<p> +One day in the Strand at luncheon hour, Shafto came face to face with his old +friend Geoffrey Tremenheere, looking bronzed, splendidly fit, and independent +as a prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Douglas!” he exclaimed. “Well, if this isn’t a piece of luck! How are +you, old man?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right—and you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I arrived from India yesterday and go up to Scotland to-night—the family are +all on the moors. I’ve just been looking for a pair of guns. Come and give your +opinion, and then we will lunch. I’m stopping at the Grand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to awfully, I need not tell you, Geoff, but I’ve got to be back at +1.15 sharp—it’s mail day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hang mail day! Come along and lunch—and let us have a good old +<i>bukh</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what that means—but I’ll be glad of lunch, and more glad of a bit +of a jaw!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, tell me all about yourself, Douglas,” said his schoolfellow, as they sat +<i>vis-à-vis</i> in the marble hall. “You don’t look particularly chirpy. Still +in the office?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—I expect to live and die there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old boy—and doing work you hate!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m getting used to it now. I shall manage to hang on.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Mrs. Shafto—how is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“As usual—going strong. We live in the same boarding-house.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Umph! Well, let me tell you this—you are in the black books at home. I hear +you refuse all invitations and make monstrous excuses.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know I’d love to go down to ‘Tremenheere,’ but how can I? My time is not +my own, and I only got a week’s holiday in August and three days at Christmas. +There’s nothing to tell about my career—let’s hear yours?” +</p> + +<p> +Thus invited, Geoffrey, a gay young officer in a crack regiment, broke into +short and vivid descriptions of Indian quarters, polo matches, and capital +black-buck shooting in the Central Provinces, and gave a full and detailed +history of his one tiger. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto, an eager and enthusiastic listener, exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, how splendid! Do you know, Geoff, I’d give ten years of this life to +have a good chance of seeing the world—especially the East?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who knows—you might yet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pigs might fly! Still I must not grumble. I’m delighted you have had such a +glorious time; when one’s friends are enjoying themselves, it’s next best to +doing the same oneself. What leave have you got?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only three months and every hour is priceless. This time to-morrow I shall be +blazing away at a grouse drive.” +</p> + +<p> +From grouse they fell to talking of shooting, of old scenes, of rabbiting and +ferreting, of cricket matches, schoolfellows and scrapes. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Douglas sprang to his feet and pointed to the clock. +</p> + +<p> +“Half-past one, I must run! Good-bye and good luck, old boy,” wringing his +friend’s hand, “I shan’t forget this lunch in a hurry,” and he was gone. This +little break and talk of old times and warm friends gave Shafto something +pleasant to think of for many days; it was like a gleam of sunshine in his grey +and joyless life. +</p> + +<p> +Richard Hutton, hack writer and “ghost,” sat next to him at table twice a day, +and proved a sympathetic neighbour. Hutton was a clever, cultured, and—when he +pleased—a wholly delightful companion. Occasionally on Sundays the pair made +little excursions together, visited the City churches and quaint bits of Old +London, or ventured a dash into the country, or up the river. +</p> + +<p> +“You say Friday is a holiday in your office, Shafto,” he remarked one evening; +“how would you like to come for a prowl, and see what we can find in the +Caledonian Market? It’s an out-of-the-way place, where once a week all manner +of rubbish is shot, and now and then you pick up a really staggering bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” inquired Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m told that lately a woman bought a rusty steel fender for two +shillings and, when she went to clean it, it turned out to be solid silver—a +bit of loot from some old French chateau. I must confess that I’ve never found +any spoil, but I only root among the books. Once, I thought I’d got hold of a +Coverdale Bible, but it proved to be a fake.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” agreed Shafto, “I’d like to try my luck; I’ll go with you and look +for a set of gold fire-irons. I’ve nothing special on—only tennis in the +afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the market is at its best in the morning—we’ll start at ten.” +</p> + +<p> +Friday morning found the couple roaming aimlessly round that great bare +enclosure at the end of the Camden Road, known as the Caledonian Market. It was +just eleven by the clock tower, and wares were still pouring in; arriving in +all manner of shabby carts and vans—mostly drawn by aged and decrepit horses. +Every variety of goods had its own particular pitch. In one quarter were piles +of books, brown, musty volumes of all shapes and sizes, also tattered +magazines, and of theological works a great host. Farther on the explorers came +to a vast collection of old iron. It was as if numbers of travelling tinkers +had here discharged their stock; fenders, gasoliers, stair-rods, tin-cans, +officers’ swords—yes, at least a dozen—frying pans and saucepans. Old clothes +were needless to say, a prominent feature. Here you might suit yourself with a +bald-looking sealskin, a red flannel petticoat, a soiled evening gown on +graceful lines, or a widow’s bonnet. Here also were black costumes (dripping +beads), broken feathers, and hopeless hats. Old furniture had several stands +and was an important department. Grandfather clocks, sideboards, chairs +(Chippendale or otherwise), chairs in horsehair or upholstered in wool-work, +and framed family portraits solicited notice. Should anyone marvel as to what +becomes of the rubbish and relics belonging to houses whose contents have been +scattered, after several generations—trifles that survived wrecked fortunes, +odds and ends which, for sacred reasons, people had clung to till the last, let +them repair to the “Market”—the relics are there, lying on unresponsive cobble +stones, a pitiful spectacle, handled, despised, and cast aside—the precious +hoarded treasures of a bygone age. +</p> + +<p> +Delicately worked samplers, faded water-colours, portraits, old seals, +snuff-boxes, and lockets, attract the curio-hunter. Here is a Prayer Book with +massive silver clasps, inscribed, “Dearest Mary, on our wedding day, June 4th, +1847, from Gilbert.” There, in a red morocco case, is a miniature of a handsome +naval officer. At the back, under glass, are two locks of hair, joined by a +true lover’s knot in seed pearls. Some ruthless hand will pick out those pearls +and throw the hair away. +</p> + +<p> +For a considerable time Shafto strolled about with his hands in his pockets, so +far seeing nothing to tempt him. Meanwhile his companion eagerly examined books +and bargained over a tattered old volume. Shafto noted with surprise the number +of well-dressed visitors poking among the stalls, in search of treasure trove. +There were a parson with a greedy-looking leather bag, an officer in uniform, +and various smart ladies, hunting in couples. Among a quantity of jugs and +basins, soup tureens and coarse crockery, Shafto’s idle glance fell upon a +frightful Chinese figure, the squat presentation of a man, about eight inches +in height. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, did you ever see such a horror?” he asked, pointing it out to his +companion; “a curio for ugliness, and just the sort of monster Mrs. Malone +would love. I’ll try if I can get hold of it. What’s the price of the China +demon?” he inquired of a wizened old woman, who wore a bashed black bonnet and +a pair of blue sand shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“Five shillin’,” she replied promptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Five shillings!” he exclaimed. “You’re joking.” +</p> + +<p> +“No time for jokes here,” she retorted, “it’s a good piece” (picking up the +figure), “and come out of a grand house. If it were in Bond Street, they’d ask +you five pounds. I showed it to a man, who said it was good, although there was +no mark, and it might be worth a lot; but I’ve no time to be raking up +things—my trade is a quick sale—and cash.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you half a crown,” said the customer. +</p> + +<p> +“Two half-crowns, and it’s yours, and a bargain; you won’t know the old fellow +when he’s had a wash!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say, Hutton?” inquired Douglas, turning to his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think you might risk five shillings; you don’t see such ugliness every +day, and I should not wonder if it was a good piece. I’ve never come across one +like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right then, I’ll take the horror.” +</p> + +<p> +And in another moment the bargain was effected. Douglas tendered two +half-crowns, which the old woman carefully examined and pocketed, then she +wrapped up the figure in a piece of crumpled newspaper, and presently he and +his friend departed, each bearing his booty. +</p> + +<p> +“There is little to find now,” said Hutton, as they passed through the gates; +“the Market has become one of the weekly fashionable gatherings of the town, +and is dredged by dealers from all over England, who look on it as a sort of +lucky-bag—but the bag is nearly empty.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Malone was enchanted with the monster—she had a secret weakness for cheap +little gifts—that is to say, from her own particular friends. More than once +Douglas had brought her some trifling tribute, but his mother had felt deeply +affronted by such uncalled for generosity to a stranger; and when he ventured +to exhibit the Chinese atrocity, she exclaimed with great bitterness: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, for Mrs. Malone, Of course! It’s rather strange that you never think of +bringing me a present.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, mother, you wouldn’t care for this sort of thing,” he protested, “and it +was awfully cheap.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheap and nasty!” she retorted. “If you had offered me such hideous rubbish, +I’d have sent it straight to the dustbin!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V<br/> +CLOUDS</h2> + +<p> +It was an abnormally hot summer; all London lay at the mercy of a fierce and +fiery sun; grass in the parks was brown, plants drooped in window boxes, and +there was not even a little breeze to stir the soft dust under foot, nor one +hopeful cloud in the blue vault overhead. But in the sky of Douglas Shafto’s +existence dark and threatening clouds were gathering; the largest of these was +a haunting fear that his mother intended to marry her admirer, Manasseh +Levison—the prosperous dealer in furniture and antiquities, a wealthy man, who +owned, besides his business, a fine mansion at Tooting; this he had closed +after the death of Mrs. Levison, when he had repaired to “Malahide” for society +and distraction—bidden there by his lively old friend, Mrs. Moses Galli. The +shrivelled little miserly widow was his confidante, and, for the illumination +of Mrs. Shafto, she had drawn glowing pictures of Khartoum House, and outlined +an imposing sketch of the luxuries awaiting its future mistress. It was noticed +as a significant fact that when Mrs. Shafto and Madame Galli went to Eastbourne +for a week (at Mrs. Shafto’s expense), they had been joined at the Grand Hotel +by Manasseh Levison, who treated them to a special banquet, enlivened by the +finest brands of champagne—and had subsequently motored them back to town. +</p> + +<p> +The idea that Levison should usurp his father’s place overwhelmed Douglas with +horror and shame; the prospect was intolerable; so were other matters; for +instance, his monotonous office life, the want of variety and fresh air. For +exercise, he belonged to a neighbouring gymnasium, but this was not sufficient +for a country-bred, energetic young man, in his twenty-fourth year. As for the +variety of amusements that satisfied and delighted his brother clerks, they +left him cold. He was sensible of a tormenting thirst for a far-away different +life—and its chances, sick of this existence, of continually going round and +round, like a squirrel in a cage. A change of surroundings and scene, or a +spice of adventure, was what he longed for—as eagerly and as hopelessly as some +fallen wayfarer in a desert land. His mother’s flinty attitude and hostile +nagging had frozen a naturally affectionate disposition, and Shafto passed +several years of his youth without one single ray of woman’s love, until +generous Mrs. Malone had come forward and installed him in her heart. His usual +routine was breakfast at eight, office at nine, lunch twelve-thirty, freedom at +six, dinner at seven-thirty. On Saturday afternoons he was expected at “Monte +Carlo”—to join the family at tennis and high tea—and here, over the little red +villa, brooded yet another cloud! Cossie, the gushing and good-natured, had +been given what her brother brutally termed “the chuck” by her young man; he +had taken on another girl, and his repentance and return were hopeless. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto listened to Cossie’s hysterical lamentations and outpourings with what +patience he could assume; until by degrees the dreadful truth began to dawn on +him, that <i>he</i> was selected to replace the faithless Lothario! Of late +Cossie’s manner had become jealously possessive, She seemed to hold him by a +nipping tenacious clutch, and pattered out to meet him at the gate, sat next to +him at table, and was invariably his partner at tennis. Once, arriving unseen, +he had overheard her declaiming to another girl: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no, I won’t have it; Douglas is my boy—and my joy! Douglas belongs to +<i>me</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“There will be two opinions about that,” he muttered to himself, as he flung +down his hat and entered the tawdry little drawing-room; but, in spite of his +stern resolutions, he found himself borne along by a strong and irresistible +current of family goodwill. Sandy gave him cigars, Delia declared over and over +again that he was a “darling,” his aunt became extra-motherly, and Cossie +endowed him with button-holes, pairs of ill-knit shapeless socks, and sent him +many notes. She seemed to appropriate him as a matter of course, and once when +they parted at the gate, had held up her face to be kissed—but this undesired +favour he affected not to see. He noted, too, that when Cossie accompanied him +to the same little gate, Delia and Sandy lingered behind with alarming +significance. He began to hate Cossie and to revolt against the slap-dash +untidy <i>ménage</i>, Delia and her train of rowdy boys, the shouting, the +practical jokes, and the slang. Then suddenly the Levison cloud burst! One +night, when he was flying upstairs to his sky parlour, his mother waylaid him +on the landing and, with an imperative gesture, beckoned him into her room. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut the door, Douglas!” she commanded in her usual frigid manner, “I have +something to tell you. Come over here and sit down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, mother, all right,” but nevertheless he remained standing; “what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +She cleared her throat and replied in her sharp metallic voice, “Mr. Levison +and I have at last made up our minds to be married; you see, we have no one to +consider but ourselves.” This announcement was followed by a blank and +paralysed silence. +</p> + +<p> +“He is absolutely devoted to me,” resumed Mrs. Shafto, “and is a wealthy man +and, as you know, <i>I</i> was never accustomed to poverty. The wedding will +take place in six weeks. Well, why do you stand glowering there?” she demanded +impatiently. “What have you got to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have got to say,” replied Douglas, then his voice broke a little, “that I +don’t see how you can do it, or put that fat Jew tradesman into my father’s +place!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your father!” she screamed passionately, and a scar on her chin showed white +against a suffused complexion; “don’t talk to me of your father. Before we were +married, he often came to my uncle’s shop, and talked to me about books—I got +up Haydn’s Dictionary of Dates, bits of Browning, and Lamb’s Essays, and Omar +Khayyam. I had to study them in my own room at night, so as to make him think I +was well educated and shared his tastes; but I did not; no,” she cried, with a +stamp of her foot, “I <i>hated</i> his tastes! Aristotle and Plato, yes, and +Shakespeare—dull to the last degree, but I liked him: he was so handsome, so +thoughtful, such a gentleman. And I believed that as he was madly in love I +could easily twist him round to my way of thinking—but I was mistaken!” She +paused, momentarily out of breath, then resumed: “He soon found me out and was +sick of me in three weeks. He disliked dances, theatres, and smart society, and +buried me alive in the country. We had nothing in common; he was just a +bookworm, with a sarcastic tongue, who left me a beggar! Now I am free, I am +going to be a rich woman, marry a man who understands me—and lead a new life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see you are easily satisfied,” remarked her son. +</p> + +<p> +“I am; and although Mr. Levison is a Jew tradesman, as you have remarked in +your nasty sneering way, he has been generous enough to offer you an opening as +his assistant. He will take you into the shop and pay you two hundred a year.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you,” replied Douglas stiffly; “I know nothing about old furniture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only old family, I suppose! Well, you might do worse; and when you marry +Cossie, as is probable, I will make you a small allowance.” +</p> + +<p> +(Shafto had relinquished his income of a hundred and fifty a year, and made it +over to his mother legally, immediately he had come of age.) +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the smallest idea of marrying Cossie, or anyone else,” he answered, +with white-faced decision. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she, and indeed they <i>all</i>, expect it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never given them any reason to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you have,” she contradicted sharply; “you go there, sit by her, and take +her into the garden.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing in that,” he rejoined, too chivalrous to add that it was his +cousin who sat by, escorted him, and clung to him like the traditional limpet. +</p> + +<p> +“She is five years older than you, I know, but very sweet-tempered, and not a +bad manager—she runs ‘Monte Carlo’!” +</p> + +<p> +“Cossie is absolutely nothing to me beyond a cousin; nor have I ever given her +reason to think otherwise—or ever shall.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are wonderfully bold and courageous here with <i>me</i>; I should like +to hear you telling them this at ‘Monte Carlo’! I know my sister has set her +heart on the match; she has been talking to me about the trousseau, and intends +to give you table linen, and a silver tea-pot—she has two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even the silver tea-pot would not bribe me!” declared Douglas with an angry +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I can assure you that it’s an understood thing,” persisted his parent, +with spiteful emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +“How can it be understood, when I have never asked the girl to marry me and +never shall? Cossie is straight enough and can tell you that herself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she has told me lots of things!” said her aunt mysteriously. “Well, to +turn to another subject, am I to inform Mr. Levison that you refuse his offer +of two hundred a year? You may come to us for week-ends if you like; he is +doing up the house at Tooting and giving me a fine car.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you, I prefer to remain where I am; and now if you’ve told me +everything you wished to say, I think I’ll go to bed,” and with a brief “Good +night” he departed. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not go to bed when he found himself in his bare fourth-floor room, +but sat on the side of his lumpy mattress, and smoked cigarettes for a couple +of hours. He must squash this Cossie question at all costs; even if it led to a +disagreeable interview with his relations and made a complete breach between +them. In one sense this breach would mean freedom and relief, and yet he was +rather fond of his dowdy old Aunt Emma, and he also liked that slangy slacker +Sandy; he could not bear to give anyone pain, or to appear shabby or +ungrateful. Of course he ought to have taken a firm stand weeks ago, and +repelled advances that had stolen upon him so insidiously. He saw this now; yet +how can you refuse to accept a flower from a girl, or be such a brute as to +leave her notes and telephones unanswered, or rise and desert her when she +nestles down beside you on the sofa? He felt as if he was on the edge of a +precipice; and must make a desperate, a life or death struggle; be firm and +show no weakness. To be weak would establish him with a wife, house-linen, and +the tea-pot, in some dingy little flat near his office, where, plodding +monotonous round like a horse in a mill, he would probably end his days. Always +too anxious to please and to be liked, he had enjoyed lounging about at “Monte +Carlo” and chaffing his cousin, but the price now demanded was exorbitant. He +recalled Cossie, stout and smiling, with rather pretty eyes and a ceaseless +flow of chatter. She had ugly hands and thick red lips, her hair was coarse, +but abundant, and she frequently borrowed her sister’s rouge. Cossie was +immensely good-natured and affectionate, and he would be sorry to hurt her +feelings, poor little thing. +</p> + +<p> +Then as to his mother and her marriage to Levison, he hated to think of it. He +could not endure his future stepfather; between them there existed a bottomless +chasm of dislike and distrust. Levison considered Shafto a conceited young cub, +“but a clever cub”; and Shafto looked on Levison as a purse-proud tradesman, +ever bragging of his “finds,” his sales, and his titled customers. +</p> + +<p> +Douglas had never felt so abjectly miserable since the time of his father’s +death; his depression was such that he wished he was dead too; but fate was in +a kindly mood and, although he was unconscious of the fact, the clouds were +lifting. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI<br/> +AN EMPTY OFFER</h2> + +<p> +The night that Shafto subsequently spent was wakeful and seemed endless; he +tossed about on his hard bed and thumped the irresponsive pillow, paced his +room from end to end, drank all the water in the carafe—and even encroached on +the ewer; he felt as if his vitality had been sapped, that he had no energy +with which to face his new position, nothing to which he could look forward, no +gleam of hope and, as it turned out, no appetite for breakfast. Seated at +table, he proved infectiously depressing and gloomily silent. On the way to the +Underground, Sandy Larcher, who happened to be in exuberant spirits, noticed +his cousin’s grave face and chaffed him about Cossie. (Sandy, a coarse-grained +creature, knew no reserves, did not profess to be a gentleman, and had never +heard of the word “tact.”) +</p> + +<p> +“And so you couldn’t sleep for thinking of her, eh? Ate no breakfast, only a +bit of toast, and half a kipper; quite in a bad way, poor old chap.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, Sandy, none of that!” angrily protested the victim. “You are a +sensible fellow, though you do play the ass; and must know as well as I do +myself that you are talking through your hat. I swear on my word of honour, I +have never made love to Cossie, I’d as soon think of making love to the parrot +next door, and I have not the remotest idea of marrying her. Imagine marrying +on a hundred and fifty pounds a year!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, I couldn’t face it myself, old man,” generously conceded his +companion, “but the mater and the girls are dead nuts on the idea; they are +awfully fond of you, and say you are so mortal clever, so well-bred and such +top-hole style, that you are bound to rise in the world; and Cossie is getting +rather long in the tooth. Of course, I know as well as if you told me, how she +rushes a chap, and writes silly notes, manicures his nails, and gives him +flowers and cigarettes. She overdid it with Freddy Soames and got the knock; +and now he is formally engaged, I expect she is mad keen to show that two can +play at that game!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not for it, and that’s certain,” declared the other, with an emphasis that +was almost violent. “I like Cossie right enough as a cousin, but I’m not a +scrap in love. Why, we’ve not one single taste in common—bar tennis and walnut +pickles! I hate saying all this to you, old man—it seems monstrously caddish, +and really——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t apologise,” interrupted Sandy; “I know Cossie and her little +ways—you are not the first by a long way that she’s tried it on with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t you drop her some sort of gentle hint? Do, like a good chap and say a +word to my aunt? I’d stay away from ‘Monte Carlo,’ only that I’m drawn to play +in this confounded tournament.” +</p> + +<p> +“No good! They wouldn’t listen to <i>me</i>; you must do the business yourself, +Douglas, old man. Come on, hurry up, or we’ll miss our train!” and Sandy began +to run. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto had not long been perched on his office stool and invested in his office +coat and paper cuffs, when he received a message that Mr. Martin—the head of +the firm—wished to see him in his private room. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the limit!” he said to himself, as he followed the messenger into a +cool, luxurious apartment. “Now I’m going to get a slating—over that French +correspondence—and it was Fraser’s job. Well, if that’s the case, I’ll enlist; +I’m sick of this life!” +</p> + +<p> +He found Mr. Martin temporarily idle, seated in front of his large +writing-table, scanning the <i>Financial News</i>. He raised his eyes as +Douglas entered, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, that you, Shafto? I have something to say to you. How would you like a +little promotion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much indeed, sir,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation due to +amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been over four years with us as correspondence clerk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you know Mr. Tremenheere?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I. He has called here to see me about you. What would you think of going +abroad for a change—say, to Burma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Burma—yes, sir, all right,” assented Shafto, with a glowing face. Something +within him had always craved for the East. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like this,” continued the other, leaning back and placing his fingers +together, tent fashion. “Our house in Rangoon wants a smart, healthy, young +fellow, quick at figures, and able to manage bills of lading. You would soon +pick up that; it will be chiefly an out-of-door job on the wharves.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“The pay offered is four hundred rupees a month, and house rent; not much, I +admit, considering the fall of the rupee and Rangoon prices; but we have been +compelled to modify expenses, our profits are run so fine, thanks to an active +German mercantile element. Well, what do you think, Shafto?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto thought Mr. Martin a species of genie, who was offering him a magic +carpet that would transport him into the great, hurrying, active world; into +the land of sunshine he had longed to see; he would have jumped at the proposal +if the salary had been half, and he replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be glad to accept.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s all right! I was afraid you might have some ties in this country. +Of course, in time you are bound to get a rise, and I believe there are +boarding-houses in Rangoon where they make you fairly comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +“When do you wish me to start?” +</p> + +<p> +“As soon as you can get under way,” was the unexpected reply. “One of the Bibby +Line sails on Saturday week, and that brings me to another matter. You have to +pay for your own passage and outfit. The passage money is six hundred rupees; +the outfit, good English boots, cool clothes, a solar topee, and a revolver—and +a medicine-chest might come in handy. No doubt some of your relations will +help, or give you a loan. You see, you are getting a big rise and a capital +opening in a new line.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, sir,” replied Douglas, whose face had considerably lengthened, +“but I’m afraid I cannot manage the ready money—near a hundred pounds. Is my +salary paid in advance?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that is out of the question in a province where cholera carries a man off +in a couple of hours. I am sorry about the passage; at one time we did pay, but +now we have to pinch and consider our expenses. No doubt you would like to talk +over the matter with your people?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, I should, thank you,” he answered, staring fixedly at the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let me have your decision before mail day. I may tell you, Shafto, that, +irrespective of Mr. Tremenheere’s interest, you have given us entire +satisfaction, and for this chance, and it <i>is</i> a chance, you have only +yourself to thank. You can take a couple of days’ leave and let me hear from +you definitely on Friday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +It was only eleven o’clock, an oppressively warm July day, and Douglas walked +up to Lincoln’s Inn Fields, took a seat in the cool shade of the finest trees +in the largest square in London, and there endeavoured to think out some plan. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, what a chance!” he muttered to himself. “What a stroke of luck! A new +start in life, offering change and freedom.” Yet he must lose it—and all for a +paltry hundred pounds. Paltry—no; to him it represented a huge and unattainable +fortune; there wasn’t a soul from whom he could borrow; not from the Tebbs, nor +the Tremenheeres, and his associates at “Malahide” were, with one detestable +exception, as poor as himself. After long meditation, entirely barren of +inspiration, he went down to the Strand and lunched at Slater’s, and then took +the Tube to Bayswater Public Library, where he got hold of some books on +Burma—Burma, the land of the Pagoda and Golden Umbrella. Somehow the very name +fired his imagination and thrilled his blood. +</p> + +<p> +After sitting in the library, greedily devouring information, he strolled back +to Lincoln Square, in time for dinner, and all that evening he kept his great +news to himself. It would have seemed natural for an only son to carry such +important tidings to his mother; but Mrs. Shafto was the last woman to welcome +his confidences. She was entirely without the maternal instinct and, armed with +a certain fierce reserve, held her son inflexibly at arm’s length. A stranger +would scarcely have discovered the relationship—unless they happened to note +that the pair walked to church together on Sunday, and that she pecked his +cheek of a night before retiring. As a matter of course, she made use of +Douglas and, insisting on maternal claims, thrust on him disagreeable +interviews, sent him messages, borrowed his money—when short of change—and +allowed him to pay her taxis. Honestly, she did not care for the boy. He was +too detached and self-contained; he had such odd ideas and resembled his father +in many respects—especially in appearance—though Douglas’s expression was +keener and more animated, he had the same well-cut features, fine head, and +expressive dark grey eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he recalled too forcibly a dead man whom she had neglected, detested and +deceived. And as for Douglas, for years he had been sensible of the smart of a +baffled instinct, a hunger for a mother’s love and affection, which had never +been his—and never would be his. +</p> + +<p> +In the drawing-room, after dinner, the boarders were amusing themselves as +usual and making a good deal of noise, yet somehow the circle presented an air +of rather spurious gaiety. Mrs. Shafto, in a smart black-and-gold evening +frock, was smoking a cigarette and playing auction-bridge with Mr. Levison and +the two Japanese; the Misses Smith and various casual boarders were engrossed +at coon-can. Another group was assembled about the piano. Douglas Shafto sat +aloof in the window seat absorbed in the book on Burma and acquiring +information; for even if he were never to see the country, it was as well to +learn something about it. Rangoon, the capital (that fact he already knew), +once a mere collection of monasteries around the Great Pagoda, was now assumed +to be the Liverpool of the East, the resting-place of Buddha’s relics, and an +important industrial centre. As his reading was disturbed by the boisterous +chorus at the piano, and the shrieks of laughter from the coon-can set, he +tucked the volume under his arm and slipped out of the room as noiselessly as +possible. He could rest at peace up in his “cock loft” and endeavour to puzzle +out some means of reaching the land of the Golden Umbrella—even if he worked +his passage as a cabin steward. In passing the door of Mrs. Malone’s den, some +strange, unaccountable impulse constrained him to knock. Yes; he suddenly made +up his mind that he would confide in <i>her</i>—and why not? She was always so +understanding, sympathetic and wise. +</p> + +<p> +In reply to a shrill “Come in,” he entered and found the old lady sitting by +the open window with a black cat on her lap. The room was small and homelike; +there were some shabby rugs, a few fine prints, a case of miniatures, and, in a +cabinet, a variety of odd “bits” which Mrs. Malone had picked up from time to +time. +</p> + +<p> +“So it’s you, Douglas,” she exclaimed; “come over and sit down. I’m always glad +to see you; you know you have the private entrée!” and she laughed. “What have +you been doing with yourself to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +As he muttered something indefinite, she added, “What’s your book?” holding out +her hand. “Burma, I declare! One does not hear much of that part of the world; +it’s always connected in my mind with rice and rain. Douglas,” suddenly raising +her eyes, “I believe you have something on your mind. What is it? Come +now—speak out—is it a love affair, or money? You know I’m <i>safe</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus invited, in a few halting sentences, he told her of his friend’s good +offices, the offer, his supreme delight—and subsequent despair. +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred pounds—yes, well, it’s a tidy sum,” she admitted, “and you will want +all that. I think Gregory and Co. might pay your passage, as the salary is not +large.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” agreed Shafto, “but I’ll be only too glad to earn it. It’s this blessed +ready money that stumps me.” +</p> + +<p> +He began to pace about the room with his hands in his pockets, then suddenly +broke out: +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Malone, I’d give one of my eyes to go; to be up and doing, and get out +into the world—especially to the East. Isn’t it hard lines—one moment to be +offered a splendid chance, and the next to have it snatched away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you couldn’t borrow?” she suggested, looking at him over her +spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“No, who would lend <i>me</i> money? I have no security and no wealthy +friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am not a wealthy friend, Douglas, but I will lend you a hundred +pounds—I’ve saved a good bit—and I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Mrs. Malone,” he interrupted. “I couldn’t accept it. I know how hardly +your money has been earned; I know all your hateful worries; your bothers with +servants and coal; your trampings into ‘the Grove,’ and up and down these +confounded stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Douglas, you can pay me back by degrees.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; you’d run a poor chance of seeing your hundred pounds again. Mr. Martin +informed me the firm never paid in advance, as cholera carried off people in a +few hours—cheerful, wasn’t it? And if I were carried off, where would +<i>you</i> be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here, my boy, and in the deepest grief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, thanking you all the same, I will not touch a penny of your money; but I +know you are long-headed and may think of some scheme for me. I’ve got nothing +to sell of any value; I parted with my father’s watch—and it’s still at the +pawnbroker’s; worse luck!” (His pitilessly selfish mother had borrowed ten +pounds and forgotten the debt, and he had been compelled to apply to his +“Uncle.”) Shafto found his salary a very tight fight; eleven pounds a month +seemed to melt away in board, clothes, washing and those innumerable little +expenses that crop up in London. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyhow, you have till Friday, you proud, obstinate boy, and before that, I may +be able to thrash out something. I have noticed that you don’t look yourself +the last few weeks, not my dear lively Douglas, tearing up and down stairs, +whistling like a blackbird. Tell me the reason,” and she laid a well-shaped +wrinkled hand upon his arm. +</p> + +<p> +Then, walking up and down the room, he frankly unfolded his troubles—the +approaching marriage of his mother (this was no news), and, in an agitated and +incoherent manner, his desperate predicament with regard to Cossie Larcher. +</p> + +<p> +“The poor boy,” said his listener to herself. “That man-hunting, determined +little cat has got her claws into him. I have seen the vulgar, made-up minx, +without education, fortune, or modesty, trying to carry off her gentleman +cousin! But she shan’t have him. No! by hook or by crook, he must be got out of +the country, as sure as my name is Joyce Malone!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII<br/> +“THE MONSTER”</h2> + +<p> +For a considerable time Mrs. Malone sat, stroking her long nose with her long +forefinger and thinking profoundly; there fell, in consequence, an unusual +silence. At last this was broken by the old lady, who exclaimed with an air of +triumph: +</p> + +<p> +“Douglas, my boy, I do believe I have got hold of a bright idea!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing new,” he rejoined with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, none of your blarney! You know the queer little monster you brought +me some time ago. You see him there grinning at us out of the cabinet? Well, a +friend of mine noticed him yesterday—she is a bit of a connoisseur, and she +said that, if genuine, that diabolical object had considerable value! +To-morrow, I will take it round to a shop in ‘the Grove,’ and get an opinion; +let us hear what the expert says, and if the object is good and marketable, +I’ll sell him—and you shall have the money. Now,” raising a hand +authoritatively, “I warn you not to say ‘No’ to me again, for if you do, I’ll +just take the poker and smash the deformity into a thousand atoms!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, I suppose that puts the lid on,” said Douglas, “but I ask you, if +anything in the whole world can be meaner than to give a present and to take it +back? However, I’ll consent to commit that outrage to save the monster. I don’t +believe he is worth a sovereign!” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! I hear them moving in the drawing-room, so, my dear boy, fly up to your +roost at once. You know how it vexes your mother to see you spending your time +with me. Good night, my dear child,” and rising, she laid her hands on his +shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. +</p> + +<p> +The very next evening, shortly before dinner, Mrs. Malone sent for her +favourite boarder. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve grand news for you!” she announced. “I’ve had the ugly figure valued and +a man has offered me a hundred and ten pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred and ten pounds!” repeated Shafto. “Come, this is one of your good +old Irish jokes!” +</p> + +<p> +Alas! it must be here recorded that warm-hearted Mrs. Malone was not joking—but +lying. She had never been to any expert. The hundred and ten pounds were to +come out of her own lean pocket; this had been her “bright idea,” when she +contemplated the monster in the cabinet. She was sincerely fond of Shafto; +during the time he had been under her roof she had never known him to do a mean +or ungentlemanly action; he was considerate, unselfish, and generous—poor as he +was; also he opened doors, handed chairs, treated age with deference, and in +short conducted himself like the people among whom she had lived most of her +life. +</p> + +<p> +Richard Hutton was of the same type, so were the two Japanese; but Levison, her +most valuable guest, Larcher, and other young boarders had, in her opinion, no +manners at all. They smoked where and how they pleased (barring the +drawing-room), left cigarette stumps all over the house, kicked off their boots +in the hall, were late for meals, loud in talk, arguments and complaints, and +supremely indifferent to the comfort of their companions. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +In some extraordinary and inexplicable manner the story of the monster had +leaked out—at any rate, it was in the air. Perhaps the monster himself had +blazoned forth the fact of his own value, or Michael, the handy man, had caught +a whisper from Maggie (Mrs. Malone’s right hand)? However it was, Mrs. Malone +was not a little startled when Mr. Levison, in his loud resonant voice, shouted +at her down the dinner table: +</p> + +<p> +“So I hear you’ve come in for a wonderful find, ma’am—a Chinese figure valued +at a handsome sum! Do you know I’m something of a judge of such stuff—old +porcelain is rather in my line—and I’d like to have a look at the prize after +dinner, if you don’t object, and if the bargain is not clinched perhaps I might +go one better.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Malone coloured like a young girl—or was it the blush of guilt? Would her +sin find her out? No; no matter what the dealer said, she determined to stick +to her story; she would not allow him to see the figure. She knew Manasseh +Levison to be a persistent, over-bearing sort of man; nevertheless, she was +resolved to defeat him. If the worst came to the worst, she would go to bed, +and either take the figure with her, or hide it up the chimney. But alas for +her plans! Manasseh, scenting a good thing, immediately after his cigar was +finished, boldly followed the old lady into forbidden ground—her +sitting-room—and did not even knock, but just turned the handle of the door and +walked in. He discovered his hostess and young Shafto, evidently holding a +weighty conference—with the figure on the table between them. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Levison,” she exclaimed, “are you aware that this is my private apartment, +and that such an intrusion is unwelcome?” +</p> + +<p> +Levison, not the least abashed, had snatched up the figure and critically +examined it, glass in eye. For an appreciable time he stood silent and +transfixed, obviously gloating over the article in his grasp—yes, gloating, +with the absorbed expression of a devotee! At last he spoke, raising his voice +almost to a shout: +</p> + +<p> +“And are <i>you</i> aware, madam; that this—this piece in my hand, is a most +glorious specimen of old ‘Kang He’? An altar vessel, too; a most perfect, +complete, and unique specimen of Chinese enamelled porcelain, dating from the +Kang dynasty? By George!” handling it and turning it about with tender loving +care, “what an astonishing find! I’ve never come across such a piece, and I’ve +seen a good few in my time. How did you get hold of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Shafto gave it to me,” replied Mrs. Malone, in her stiffest manner. +</p> + +<p> +“And I picked it off a stall in the Caledonian Market,” supplemented Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“What luck; what incredible luck!” exclaimed the dealer, nodding his big head; +“well, Mrs. Malone, will you please inform your other customer that I will pay +you three hundred pounds down for this piece—that rather snuffs him out, eh? +I’ll give you a cheque in the morning,” and carrying the monster as reverently +as if it were some holy relic, Manasseh Levison, expert and connoisseur, +marched out of the room in triumph. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br/> +BOUND FOR BURMA</h2> + +<p> +It was some minutes before Mrs. Malone recovered her breath and composure, the +invasion and purchase had been so startlingly abrupt. At last she found her +tongue and her wits, and after a lengthy and animated discussion, it was +ultimately decided that she and Douglas would each take a hundred pounds +(privately she determined to invest her share for his benefit) and hand the +remaining hundred to the old woman in the black bonnet at her stand in the +Caledonian Market. +</p> + +<p> +The journey to Rangoon was now likely to be accomplished, thanks to the Chinese +Monster. When Douglas picked it off the cobble stones, from among coarse common +crockery, how little he dreamed what a factor this figure would prove in his +future—it had been the means of shaping his destiny! +</p> + +<p> +On Friday morning he sent in a formal acceptance of Mr. Martin’s offer and, +having obtained leave, hurried away to the Caledonian Market, in search of the +old rag and bottle female. It was half-past twelve o’clock when he arrived, he +was late, and her pitch was empty. Had she departed already? On inquiry he was +informed that old Mother Doake had departed for good—was, in fact, dead! +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she were run over by a motor-trolley ten days ago,” announced the woman +in the next stall; “she was terribly old and blind and a real wicked miser. +There was no one belonging to her. Her clothes were just lined with bank-notes, +and there was a whole lot of papers and bonds in her mattress, and a lovely +silver tea-set up the chimney. She grudged herself a penn-’orth o’ milk, or a +drop o’ brandy, and she worth thousands o’ pounds! Being no heirs, the Crown +takes the lot! Thank you, sir,” accepting a tip, “I suppose I could not tempt +you with a splendid fur-lined overcoat? Cost a hundred—but you can have it for +six. It belonged to a lord—I got it off his man. Well, maybe it’s a bit +warmish, but it’s dirt cheap and would come in next winter.” +</p> + +<p> +Since Mother Doake was now defunct, her share divided gave Douglas another +fifty pounds, and he felt quite a wealthy man. The first use he made of the +monster’s money was to take his father’s watch and chain out of pawn; the next, +to secure his passage in the Bibby Line to Rangoon. Then he spent a long +morning at the Stores and bought a new outfit, saddle and bridle, steamer +trunks, and a steamer chair. +</p> + +<p> +The purchase of the “Kang He” piece and its price were naturally not withheld +from Mrs. Shafto. She pounced upon Douglas in the hall and drove him before her +into the empty dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve heard all about your wonderful luck!” she began excitedly, “and how +Mr. Levison has actually paid you three hundred pounds for that frightful +figure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, so he did; it’s a true bill.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now, my dear boy; you will be able to help me with my trousseau,” said +this daughter of a horse-leech, “I must really get good frocks. Mr. L. is so +sharp, and notices everything, and can tell the price of a gown to a sixpence; +he has wonderful taste, and is very particular. You must let me have fifty or +sixty to begin with—it’s not much out of three hundred pounds. What a +windfall!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I have already divided it with Mrs. Malone,” replied Douglas; “she +insisted upon my taking half—you see, the figure was hers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Divided it with Mrs. Malone!” screamed his mother. “What a mean, grasping, +greedy old hag! I shall speak to her about it and make her disgorge. She has no +right to your money; whilst I am your mother!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do beg you won’t interfere. Mrs. Malone is the most generous woman I know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Generous!” echoed Mrs. Shafto. “The greatest old skinflint in London—she +charges me sixpence a day for having my breakfast in bed, and——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will soon be out of it,” interrupted her son impetuously, “and so +shall I! And I am glad to have an opportunity now of telling you that I have +got promotion in the office and am going to Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! are you? Burma—Burma! Why, that’s abroad—some place near India—or is it +the West Indies?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are thinking of Bermuda. Burma is east of India. I have to pay for my +passage and outfit, and this unexpected windfall is a wonderful bit of luck. If +I hadn’t got it, I never could have accepted the post, or made a new start.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when do you leave?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a week.” +</p> + +<p> +“So soon,” she exclaimed cheerfully; “I wonder what Cossie will say?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not of the slightest consequence what Cossie says; she has nothing to do +with my plans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cossie won’t think so, and when she hears you have been promoted and are off +to Burma, she will stick to you like a burr.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear mother, what is the use of her sticking to me?” protested +Douglas. “I haven’t the faintest intention of being engaged to Cossie. If she +imagines that I am in love with her, she is making the greatest mistake in her +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cossie is a foolish girl,” admitted her aunt, “and has made heaps of mistakes; +but if she sees her way to bettering herself, she can be as determined as +anyone. Of course you will have to run down and say ‘good-bye.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I shall go to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must say I don’t envy you the visit!” declared his mother with a malicious +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I daresay it will be disagreeable—but Aunt Emma will see me through. In +Cossie’s case it is not a matter of deep attachment; she only wants to play me +off against that fellow Soames. Ah, here is Michael jingling his tray outside; +he wants to lay the cloth and we had better clear.” +</p> + +<p> +In some respects the dreaded farewell at “Monte Carlo” was even more trying +than Douglas had anticipated. His relatives had learned and digested his news; +to them, it seemed an uplifting of the entire connection. After pushing +congratulations and some high-flown talk respecting the delights of his future +career and “position,” the girls, as if by mutual agreement, rose and left him +alone with their mother. +</p> + +<p> +Thus abandoned to a <i>tete-à-tete</i>, after a lengthy silence, Mrs. Larcher, +sitting among the collapsible spring’s, began to speak in a shaky voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Ahem! We have <i>all</i> seen, Douglas, how devotedly attached you are to +Cossie, and the marked attentions you have paid her. Of course, on such a small +salary you were too honourable to say anything definite. Ahem! But now that you +are in a better position, with splendid prospects, I have no objection to an +engagement, and as soon as you are comfortably settled in Rangoon, Cossie will +join you.” +</p> + +<p> +Douglas instantly lifted himself out of his chair and confronted the +unfortunate catspaw; standing erect before her, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Aunt Emma, kindly understand once for all that I am not in love with +Cossie. I have never made love to her, or ever shall. I like her as a +cousin—but no more. Even if I were madly in love, I could not marry; my screw +will barely keep myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you’ll get on!” interposed his aunt eagerly. “They all do out there, +and you who are so well educated and gentlemanly will soon be drawing high pay, +and keeping dozens of black servants, and a motor—and you know poor Cossie is +<i>so</i> fond of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am truly sorry to hear you say so; I cannot imagine <i>why</i> she should be +fond of me; or why, quite lately, she has got this preposterous idea into her +head. Naturally it is a delicate subject to discuss with you, Aunt Emma; but I +declare on my honour that I have never thought of Cossie but just as a jolly +sort of girl and a cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have given her presents, my darling boy; yes, and written to her,” +urged the poor lady, clinging to the last straw. +</p> + +<p> +“I have given her chocolates, and a couple of pairs of gloves, and answered her +notes; and if Cossie imagines that every man who gives her chocolates, and +answers notes about tea and tennis, is seriously in love with her, she must be +incredibly foolish. Cossie knows in her heart that I have never cast her a +thought, except as a relation; and, as a matter of fact, of the two girls I +like Delia the best! I don’t want to say unpleasant things when I’m on the +point of going away—probably for years. I hoped to have spent a jolly long day +among you, but from what you have just told me I really could not face it, and +I must ask you to say good-bye to my cousins for me. I will write to you, Aunt +Emma, as soon as I get out to Rangoon. You have always been very kind, and made +me feel at home here; you may be sure I won’t forget it.” And he stooped down +suddenly and gave her a hearty kiss. Then before the poor stout lady could +struggle out of the cavity which her weight had made in the Chesterfield +Douglas had departed. She heard the close of the hall door, immediately +followed by the click of the garden gate. Yes, he was <i>gone</i>! And Cossie, +who all the time had been listening on the top of the stairs, instantly +descended like a wolf on the fold. She would have run out bareheaded after +Douglas, but that her more prudent sister actually restrained her by violent +physical force; and then, what a scene she made! Oh, what recriminations and +angry speeches and reproaches she showered upon her unhappy parent! +</p> + +<p> +“You told me to sound him about an engagement, and I did. Oh, but it was a +hateful job, and here’s my thanks!” whimpered Mrs. Larcher. “He looked awfully +white and stern, and said he only likes you as a cousin, and that he had no +intention of anything—and I believe him. It was only in the last two months, +since Freddy Soames broke it off, that you’ve gone out of your way to hang on +to Douglas. I’m sure I wish there had been something in it—he’s a dear good +boy, and I could love him like a son,” and the poor lady sobbed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“You bungled the whole thing, of course!” cried her ungrateful offspring, “I +might have known you would put your foot in it; you’ve let him slip through +your fingers and just ruined my last chance. Oh, if I’d only talked to him +myself, I’d have been on my way to Burma in six months!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Cossie broke down, buried her head in a musty cushion, and wept sore. +</p> + +<p> +However, after a little time, the broken-hearted damsel recovered; her feelings +were elastic, and she allowed herself to be revived with a stiff whisky and +soda and a De Reské cigarette. On the following day she had so far recovered as +to be able to make a careful toilet and walk out, to call upon her two most +intimate pals, in order to inform them—in the very strictest confidence—that +she was engaged to her cousin, Douglas Shafto, who had just got a splendid +appointment in Burma and would come home in two years! Then she added +impressively, “I don’t want this given out—mother would be <i>furious</i>; but +the first time you come across him I don’t mind if you whisper the news to +Freddy Soames.” +</p> + +<p> +Cossie sent her cousin a heart-broken letter of farewell, full of underlined +words and vague expressions of despair—a portion of which she had copied from a +dramatic love scene in a novel. She implored him to write to her, and remained +“his devoted till death, Cossie.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto thrust his devoted-till-death Cossie’s letter into the waste-paper +basket, with a gesture of excommunication, and barred the doors of his memory +upon her round fat face. +</p> + +<p> +Preparations for departure proceeded satisfactorily. He received a number of +good wishes and not a few gifts. The Tremenheeres sent him an express rifle, +the Tebbs a dispatch box, Mrs. Malone gave him a silver cigarette case and a +warm rug, Mrs. Galli gave him her blessing, and his mother gave him advice. +</p> + +<p> +On the appointed day a band of friends travelled down to Tilbury to take leave +of Douglas Shafto. These included Mrs. Malone, Mr. Hutton, the two Japanese +gentlemen, and several of his fellow clerks.—Mrs. Shafto had excused herself, +declaring that “her feelings would not endure the strain of a public +leave-taking.”—Shortly before the <i>Blankshire</i> (Bibby Line) sailed, +Sandy—alas! accompanied by Cossie—hurried down the gangway (for Cossie was +allied to the stamp of the British soldier, who never knows when he is beaten +and entirely refuses to accept defeat!). She wore her best hat—a conspicuous +affair with enormous green wings—a somewhat murky white fur, and carried a +presentation bunch of wilted flowers. The new arrival, chattering like a +magpie, took immediate possession of her cousin, snatched her away from poor +Mrs. Malone, who was looking very old and sad, and insisted on inspecting his +cabin and as much as was possible of the ship. When the bell rang and the +moment of parting arrived, she burst into wild unrestrained sobs, and clung, in +the best melodramatic style, to her unresisting kinsman, who was compelled to +accept her kisses and tears. In fact, as her brother rudely stated, “she made a +shameless show of herself, slobbering over Douglas before all the passengers, +and he was sorry for the poor chap, who was covered with blushes; and not for +her at all—as anyone could see with half an eye!” +</p> + +<p> +However, Cossie returned home by the Underground, fortified with the conviction +that the party who had witnessed her farewell were bound to realise that +Douglas Shafto was her affianced lover. +</p> + +<p> +The last signal Shafto received, ere the group of friends had dissolved into a +blur, was a frantic waving of Cossie’s damp handkerchief, and he turned his +face towards the bows of the <i>Blankshire</i>, now heading down the river, +with the happy exaltation of freedom and a grateful sense of escape. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX<br/> +THE “BLANKSHIRE”</h2> + +<p> +The <i>Blankshire</i> was a full and well-known ship. Not a few of the +passengers had made several trips in her and some, as they met in saloon and +corridors, exchanged loud hearty greetings and hailed one another as old +friends. These were chiefly planters and officials from Ceylon, Southern India +and Burma, who herded in parties both at meals and on deck. +</p> + +<p> +It was not to be expected that Shafto would see one familiar face, and he felt +completely “out of it,” as he took a seat at a draughty table between two +elderly people, whose interest was entirely concentrated upon their meals and +the weather. +</p> + +<p> +The second day proved rough and wet and the smoking-room was crowded. Here +Shafto made an acquaintance with a well-set-up, weather-beaten young man, his +neighbour. Finding they had similar tastes with regard to cigars and boots, +they proceeded to cement an acquaintance. Hoskins was the name of Shafto’s +companion, and after half an hour’s lively talk, he exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, look here, we must dig you out of ‘the Potter’s Field,’ and bring you +to our table.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by ‘the Potter’s Field’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, to bury strangers in! We bury dull folk and such-like in the table near +the door; but I’ll speak to the head steward and get you moved.” +</p> + +<p> +And before the next meal Shafto’s transition was an accomplished fact, and he +found himself one of a merry and congenial circle. In his novel and detached +position he realised a sense of independence; he was breathing a new existence, +an exhilarating atmosphere, and enjoying every hour of the day. +</p> + +<p> +At table and in the smoke-room he picked up a certain amount of useful +information respecting Burma, listened to many a “Don’t” with polite attention, +and was offered the address of a fairly good chummery in Rangoon. As he could +play bridge without letting down his partners, was active at deck sports, and +invariably cheery and obliging, he soon gained that effervescent prize, +“board-ship popularity.” +</p> + +<p> +Here was a different fellow from Douglas Shafto of “Malahide.” He seemed to +have cast off a load of care; the cramped, monotonous life, his mother’s hard +indifference, the octopus-like Cossie, all had slipped from his shoulders and +were figuratively buried in the heaving, dark blue sea. What delicious hours of +tranquil ease were enjoyed in a steamer chair; hours when he looked on the past +five years as a distant and fading dream! +</p> + +<p> +As he paced the deck with a companion he learnt many strange things. Odd bits +of half-told stories, confidences respecting some girl, or some ambition—and +now and then a warning. +</p> + +<p> +“You are so new and green to the East,” said Hoskins, his first friend, a +police officer returning from short leave. “You had better keep your eyes +skinned! Rangoon is not like India, but a roaring busy seaport, where every +soul is on the make. You will find various elements there, besides British and +Burmese. Tribes from Upper Burma, Tibetans, Hindoos, Malays, Chinese and, above +all, Germans. They do an enormous trade, and have many substantial firms and +houses, and put through as much business as, or more than, we do ourselves. No +job is too small, no order too insignificant for their prompt attention. They +have agents all over the country, who pull strings in wolfram and the ruby +mines, and have a finger in every mortal thing. I’ll say this for them, they’re +most awfully keen and industrious, and stick at nothing to earn the nimble +rupee, underselling when they can, and grabbing contracts and trade secrets. +Some of these days they will mine us out of Burma!” +</p> + +<p> +“So I see they needn’t go to you for a character,” remarked Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, they are not all tarred with the same brush! I have some good pals in the +German Club—fellows that are as straight as a die. Is this your first journey +out of England?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, bar winter sports in Switzerland, when I was a kid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will see a small bit of the world this trip; as soon as we collect +the passengers at Marseilles, and once the awnings and the moon are up, things +will begin to hum!” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you mean hum?” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have sports, dances, concerts—this has always been a gay ship, and +the purser is a rare hustler. We are due at Marseilles to-morrow morning, and +we take in a cargo of the lazy luxurious folk who abhor ‘the Bay,’ and have +travelled overland. I’d have done the same, only I’m frightfully hard up; three +months at home, having a ‘good time,’ comes pretty expensive!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will be a fixture in Rangoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid not; I’m going straight up to Mandalay, but I shall be down later, +and meanwhile I’ll do my best to settle you in that chummery. I’ll send a line +to FitzGerald of my service; he lives there; a rattling Irishman, with lots of +brains in his handsome head, and a good sort; there’s also Roscoe, a clever +oddity, and MacNab of the Irrawaddy Flotilla—a wonderful golfer. Most of the +fellows in business in Rangoon are Scotch. Murray was in the same chummery; +there were four chums till May.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Number Four has gone home?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has—to his long home, worse luck; he broke his neck fooling over a log +jump.” +</p> + +<p> +On this fresh October morning the <i>Blankshire</i> lay moored at her usual +berth in Marseilles harbour, and the overland passengers were streaming aboard +in great numbers. +</p> + +<p> +Hoskins and Shafto, leaning over the bulwarks, watched the long procession of +travellers, followed by porters, bearing their light baggage. +</p> + +<p> +“There are a good few, you see,” remarked Hoskins; “this is a popular ship and +date. We won’t have an empty berth—anyway as far as the Canal. Most of this +crowd,” waving a hand, “these with maids and valets, are bound for Egypt; there +will be a big contingent for Colombo and Southern India. I’m a bit curious to +see our own little lot.—Ah! here comes one of them!” +</p> + +<p> +He indicated a stout imposing person, who was majestically ascending the +gangway. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Lady Puffle, the consort of one of our big wigs; very official and +dignified, keeps old Fluffy in grand order. The next, the tall handsome woman, +is Mrs. Pomeroy, wife of the Judicial Commissioner, a real lady, and—hullo! she +has brought out a daughter! Not, as far as I can see, up to her mother’s +sample; too much nose and too much bone. And next, we have Mrs. Flint, of Flint +and Co., a big house. She gives the best dinners in Rangoon. The little fair +lady with the small dog is Mrs. Maitland, wife of the General Commanding in +Burma, and the one with her must be her sister, or sister-in-law. Here comes +the great Otto Bernhard, junior partner in the house of Bernhard Brothers; as +you see, a fine, handsome man, with the most All Highest moustache; and also +owns a heavenly tenor voice—but I would not trust him farther than I could +throw him!” +</p> + +<p> +“And that would not be far,” said Shafto; “he weighs every ounce of fourteen +stone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a big man in every way, trades on his voice and his good looks, as well +as in teak and paddy—an unscrupulous devil where women are concerned; the lady +he is escorting is Mrs. Lacy; you would not think to look at her, so slim, +gracious and smiling, that she is a noted man-eater.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps the expression is a bit too strong. She has a subtle way of +attracting mankind. It amuses her and, in the long run, does no harm. Wait till +you see how they will collect about her on board—like flies round a pot of +honey.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall you be one of the flies?” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly. I enjoy being fascinated and I like honey! She is very amusing and +dances like a moonbeam. Those are two coffee planters, wonderful pals and +bridge players, and here comes a strange lady, probably a tourist—rich too.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto looked and saw a handsome grey-haired woman, with a round smiling face, +wearing a long sable coat and an air of complacent prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, for a wonder I know her!” he declared. “It’s Mrs. Milward. Her sister was +our neighbour at home; I’ve met her often.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“A widow—very rich, I believe. I think her daughter is married to a man in +India—or Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this the daughter following up the gangway?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I’ve never seen her before.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, what a pretty girl—and a ripping figure! Once seen, never forgotten, +eh? When you have claimed the chaperon you must present me to the young +lady—especially as you are out of the running yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Out of the running—what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Merely that I happened to witness that tender parting at Tilbury—the little +girl in the green hat, who was crying her eyes out!” +</p> + +<p> +“She was my cousin,” protested Shafto; “nothing more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come!” rejoined Hoskins, with a knowing sidelong glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my honour! nothing whatever to me but that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose I’m bound to take your word for it, but it looked uncommonly +touching—so like the real thing, and yet merely a case of strong family +affection!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let us descend and make ourselves presentable for lunch; nothing like +first impressions.” +</p> + +<p> +After lunch, when the new-comers had found their places and scattered about, +watching the shores of France recede, Shafto approached Mrs. Milward and bowed +himself before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Douglas!” she exclaimed, “this <i>is</i> a surprise, a delightful +surprise. What on earth are <i>you</i> doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Making a voyage to Rangoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rangoon! So am I. An amazing coincidence. Now come and sit down at once and +tell me all about yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you have heard all there is to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; that you had become so distant and reserved and so like an oyster in its +shell, and there was no getting you to ‘Tremenheere.’” +</p> + +<p> +“But I was not my own master—I was in an office.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear boy, where there’s a will there’s a way.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no way of taking leave—unless you wish to get the key of the street,” +he retorted with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“And what takes you to Rangoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“A post in a big mercantile house. I’ve to thank Mr. Tremenheere: I owe it to +his interest—it’s a splendid chance for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m sure you deserve it, my dear boy, if ever anyone did. You don’t ask +why I am on the high seas. I am en route, to Mandalay—Ella is there. After I’ve +paid her a visit, I’m going on to India, to stay with your old friend Geoffrey. +He and you are about the same age, are you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is in the White Hussars at Lucknow—he was at Sandhurst with you, wasn’t +he?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto nodded, and the lady continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m bringing out a girl, such a darling!—She’s down unpacking in our cabin; a +dear child. Her mother is an old friend of mine; her father was rector of our +parish. I drop her in Rangoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her name is Sophy Leigh, and she is going out to stay with an aunt, who is +something of an invalid. Her husband is in business, a German—said to be +rolling in money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That sounds all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Sophy can’t speak a word of German, though French like a native, and she +plays the piano delightfully. Her father died some years ago, and Mrs. Leigh +and the girls live in town—Chelsea; not rich, but have enough to go on with and +are a very happy trio. One day a letter came from the German uncle asking for a +niece—and if possible a musical niece—so Sophy was sent; anyway, her sister is +engaged to be married and was not available. My friend, Mrs. Leigh, was very +sorry to lose her girl—even for a year or so, but it seemed such a chance for +Sophy to see the world, and make friends with her rich and childless +relatives.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect she will have a good time in Burma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bound to, for she is one of those fortunate people who make their own +happiness. Here she comes!” +</p> + +<p> +As she concluded, a tall, slim girl, with a face of morning freshness, wearing +a rose silk sports coat and fluttering white skirt, approached, and Shafto +instantly realised that such a personality was likely to have a good time +anywhere! Miss Leigh’s dark eyes were lovely, and she had a radiant smile; she +smiled on Shafto when he was presented by her chaperon: +</p> + +<p> +“Sophy, this is a most particular friend of mine; I’ve known him since he was +in blouses—a boy with sticky fingers, who refused to be kissed. Mr. Shafto—Miss +Leigh.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Milward was a handsome, impulsive, kind-hearted woman of forty five; her +arched, dark eye-brows and a wonderful natural complexion gave her a fictitious +air of youth—slightly discounted by a comfortable and matronly figure. Some +declared that her round face, short nose, and large eyes produced a resemblance +to a well-to-do pussy cat, but this was the voice of envy. She had a clever +maid, dressed well, and with the exception of the loss of her husband, had +never known a care; there was scarcely a line or wrinkle on her charming soft +face. Now, with her girl happily married, and her boy in the Army, she felt a +free woman, and was anxious to try her wings—and her liberty! Though popular +with rich and poor, she was by no means a perfect character; extraordinarily +indiscreet and rash in her confidences—there was no secret cupboard in her +composition—she threw open all her mental stores and also those of her +intimates. Aware of this failing, she would deplore it and say: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t tell me any important secrets, my dear—for I can never keep them, in +spite of my good resolutions. They will jump out and play about among my latest +news and good stories.” +</p> + +<p> +That night in their cabin, as she and her charge talked and discussed their +fellow passengers, the life history of Douglas was her principal topic. With +considerable detail, she related his happy prospects and the shattering of +these; told of his cultured father and odious, underbred mother, whom she +particularly detested; spoke of his withdrawal from old friends, lest he might +seem to sponge, and how, instead of being in the Army serving his country like +her own boy, enjoying his youth and a comfortable allowance, he was stuck in a +gloomy City office, drawing a miserable salary, and enduring the whims and +temper of an empty-headed, selfish parent. +</p> + +<p> +“She married again the other day,” added Mrs. Milward, “a rich Jew. I’ve not a +word to say against the Jews—a marvellously clever race; in fact, I think a +little Jew blood gives brains; and as to riches, of course there’s no harm in +<i>them</i>; but this Manasseh Levison is so common and fat, and seems to reek +of furniture polish and money. I’ve seen him at ‘the Mulberry’ at tea, gobbling +cakes like a glutton and making such a noise. Oh, what a contrast to Mr. +Shafto, so aristocratic and so courteous—a man whom it seemed almost a +privilege to know!” +</p> + +<p> +And in this strain, Mrs. Milward, reclining in her berth, chattered on, whilst +her companion brushed her heavy, dark hair, and imbibed a strong feeling of +interest and pity for the good-looking hero of her chaperon’s impressive +sketch. +</p> + +<p> +Quite unintentionally this voluble lady had enlisted the mutual sympathy of +these young people; she had laid, so to speak, a match; whether a mutual liking +would ignite it or not was uncertain—but the prospect was favourable. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X<br/> +THE LAND OF PROMISE</h2> + +<p> +As the voyage progressed various groups thawed and amalgamated, even “the +Potter’s Field” experiencing a temporary resurrection. Theatricals, bridge +tournaments and concerts brought the passengers into touch with one another, +the sole member who held herself augustly aloof being Lady Puffle. She remained +secluded in her cabin, or occupied an isolated position on deck, appearing at +dinner with a brave show of appetite, diamonds and airs, paralysing her +neighbours with a petrifying stare. Occasionally she accorded a bow or “Good +morning” to her sole and necessary acquaintance, the ship’s doctor, whom she +informed that in her position she was debarred from mixing with the crowd—as +later, in Rangoon, these people might presume on the acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +One of the special events of the voyage was the two days’ sports, and here +Shafto distinguished himself by winning a severe obstacle race; he was a +nimble, muscular youth, who, thanks to school games and the gymnasium, climbed, +ran, and leapt with inspirited agility, and when at last he touched the winning +tape, breathless but exultant, there was a spontaneous outburst of clapping and +cheers. +</p> + +<p> +Prize-giving was the occasion of his triumph. This was his five minutes, when +he advanced to receive from Lady Puffle a clock, set of studs and a thermos +flask—all carefully laid in at Malta by the provident “Amusements Committee.” +Shafto bore his honours modestly, and was glared on by Bernhard who, drawn up +beside her ladyship like an Imperial Guardsman, presented an alarmingly +militant and stern appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Between him and this particular “Englander” no love was wasted. Once, when they +had collided on the companion ladder, Shafto’s agility alone had saved him from +a heavy fall, and the obstructor had neither looked back nor offered apology. +Probably he concluded that charming Miss Leigh, who accompanied his songs with +such delicate sympathy, accorded too much of her society to this young man; +and, after all, what was he? A London clerk, going out to begin at the bottom +of the ladder, as one of Gregory’s assistants. Naturally he disliked Gregory’s, +a rival and substantial house, which, like his own, dealt largely in paddy—and +this casual, outspoken, clear-eyed youngster was just the type of person +specially abhorred by the Prussian Junker. Now that the music-room had two such +efficient performers as Bernhard and Miss Leigh, Shafto and others abandoned +the bridge tables and enjoyed a rare treat. Miss Leigh presided at the piano +and appeared to have complete command of the instrument; she could read +anything at sight, no matter how it bristled with sharps and accidentals; her +repertoire ranged from Beethoven, Bach, Grieg, Chopin, to the latest ragtime, +and her playing had a crisp ringing touch that was delightful. +</p> + +<p> +Hoskins, who was endowed with a good baritone, sang quaint Burmese songs with +gratifying effect. There was something weird and yet musical in the solemn and +majestic “Toung Soboo Byne,” or “Yama Kyo,” from a native opera, and the Royal +boat song as sung by the King’s boatmen when rowing His Majesty on State +occasions. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Maitland’s contribution was a beautifully trained light soprano, but the +Caruso of the company was Herr Otto Bernhard; amazing that a man of his sensual +nature and proclivities should be gifted with a voice fit to swell heaven’s +choir. He sang Wagner, Gounod, Schubert with absolute impartiality, as well as +numbers of melting German <i>lieder</i> and touching English ballads. He +brought smarting tears to the eyes of comfortable matrons, and swept their +thoughts back to poignant moments of long ago—to youth and first love, to +moonlight nights, entrancing meetings and heart-rending farewells! As for the +younger and less emotional generation, even they were moved out of their +everyday composure and hung upon the singer’s words with breathless +appreciation. +</p> + +<p> +There was a number of young people on board the <i>Blankshire</i>, and since +the good old days of Tadpool Shafto had never enjoyed himself so thoroughly. It +was the first time since he had arrived at man’s estate that he had been +associated with girls of his own class. There were no fewer than thirty on +board—of these, eleven were brides elect—but the prettiest of all, and to him +the most attractive, was Miss Leigh. He looked for her the first thing when he +stepped on deck in the mornings, and in the evenings watched her departure with +wistful regret. Meanwhile, between morning and evening he contrived to see as +much of the young lady as possible—though when out of sight she was never +absent from his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Was he about to fall in love?” He was conscious of a vague wonder and sense of +alarm. A hopeless attachment would be a fatal misfortune to a fellow beginning +a new life; a life that required the whole of his mind and the best of his +energies; but, like the moth and the candle, he still continued to hover round +Miss Leigh—and Miss Leigh was not averse to his society. Together they talked +and argued, played quoits and danced. A stern, inward voice assured Shafto +that, luckily for him, there was a fixed date for the terminating of his +enchantment—the day when the <i>Blankshire</i> entered the Irrawaddy river and +was moored to her berth. Then Miss Leigh would go her way to be the joy and the +light of wealthy relatives—he, to begin his new work at the very bottom of the +ladder. +</p> + +<p> +Another voice also made itself heard, which said: “One is young but once! Make +the most of these shining hours; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” +</p> + +<p> +When in a placid temper, the Red Sea is favourable for dances and theatricals +and, much against his will, Shafto was dragged into “the Neptune” company by +Hoskins, a resolute, determined individual, who filled the thankless office of +stage manager. Shafto was cast for the part of an old gentleman, the role being +softened and alleviated by the fact that he was to undertake to play uncle to +Miss Leigh. Although Bernhard had no part in the piece itself, being an +authority, he superintended its production, and on several occasions addressed +Miss Leigh’s temporary “uncle” in a manner that increased Shafto’s natural +aversion to what Hoskins termed “The great blond brute!” The play proved to be +a success and there was little or no jealousy or friction. Amazing to record, +Miss Pomeroy and Miss Leigh—the two principal ladies—still remained the very +best of friends. During rehearsals Shafto and his “niece” exchanged a good deal +of dialogue that was not in the piece—thanks partly to Mrs. Milward’s +introductions and revelations, and partly to a mutual attraction, they now knew +one another rather well. They sat with their chaperon and listened to her +incessant flow of talk with appreciative sympathy, played deck quoits, walked +and danced together, and were for looks and accomplishments the most prominent +couple on the <i>Blankshire</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, dear lady,” said Mrs. Maitland, sinking into a deck-chair beside +Sophy’s chaperon, “do you intend anything to come of <i>that</i>?” and she +nodded at a pair who, with heads fairly near, were leaning over the side, +engrossed in watching the divers at Aden. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather a case, is it not? First love and an early marriage!” +</p> + +<p> +“If you mean Sophy and young Shafto, why, they haven’t a bad sixpence between +them!” +</p> + +<p> +“No?” and Mrs. Maitland looked gravely interrogative. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps I’ve been incautious—indiscreet—now that I look back.” (Yes, and +with a sense of guilt she recalled her talks to both; her praise and her +explanations.) “But the fact is that though they have never met till now, I’ve +known them both as children, and I could not well avoid bringing them together, +but I don’t think there’s any harm done; they are as simple and open as the +day. There’s no flirting—they are just enjoying the new surroundings and these +golden hours—but I’ll be more careful and put a stop to their after-dinner +promenades. I’ll take your hint.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope it won’t be a case of locking the stable-door when the steed has been +stolen.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but whoever steals Sophy will get a prize—and she does thoroughly enjoy +every hour of the day. She is so pretty and transparent and sweet; she makes me +think of a lovely flower, floating serenely on a summer river. I expect she +will be a great success in Rangoon.” +</p> + +<p> +As there was no immediate answer on the part of Mrs. Maitland, she added +quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes—I hope so; but, you see, Miss Leigh is going to live in rather an +odd home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Odd?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s absolutely respectable—but—out of the world—our world. Mr. Krauss is +a German and said to be rich; he does not belong to a firm or house, but is on +his own. Of course, he is a member of the Gymkhana and all that; but he keeps +to the German set and lives among them over in Kokine; then his English wife, +once a celebrated beauty, is a semi-invalid. As he never—they say—does anything +without some well-considered reason, and is always on the make, I hope to +goodness he has not decoyed this charming girl to Rangoon merely to be her +aunt’s nurse—and his housekeeper.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should hope not, indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Milward. “My cousin Mary Gregory +must have an eye on my young friend—I’ll see to that. I shall be stopping with +Mary for a few days before going up the river; but I think Sophy will be all +right. After all, Mrs. Krauss is her own aunt.” +</p> + +<p> +If Shafto and Sophy had become friendly over games, discussions and little +special teas with Mrs. Milward, Bernhard cemented his acquaintance by means of +their mutual love of music; but it seemed to the girl that, after he had heard +her destination, Herr Bernhard’s manner had undergone a subtle change. The +protégée of a wealthy woman—who wore wonderful rings and priceless pearls and +carried herself as a high-born dame—was another person from the mere transitory +companion who, once at Rangoon, would be handed over to Karl Krauss, her +uncle—incredible! Uncle by marriage—yes, but still an inmate of his home. +</p> + +<p> +“And so I hear you are niece to Herr Krauss,” he began abruptly, as he lounged +against the bulwarks; “I know him well.” +</p> + +<p> +“And my aunt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ve met her two or three times; she must have been splendidly handsome +once; now she looks broken up—it’s the climate. No woman should remain in Lower +Burma for eight years without a change.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know the climate was so bad; I’m afraid I know very little about +Burma; it seems so far away—much farther off than India.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and a far more beautiful country—a land flowing with rivers and riches, +and full of charming people, who live for the day, like so many butterflies, +and do no work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then who does work?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Madrassi, the Sikh, the Chinese, and, above all, the European. Rangoon has +an enormous trade; I wonder what you will think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel sure that I shall like it; I have always longed to see the East.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that is a common wish—the <i>sun</i> rises in the East! We Germans like +the East—the East likes us. <i>We</i> own Burma!” +</p> + +<p> +After a moment’s pause, which gave his companion time to digest this surprising +statement, he went on, “Have you ever seen Herr Krauss?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! when my aunt came home he always went to Germany—to Frankfort, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“So his acquaintance has yet to be made; it is what you call a pleasure in +store. I wonder what you will think of the unknown uncle; perhaps some day you +will tell me?” Then he gave an odd laugh and walked away, still laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Bernhard’s place was speedily filled by another man. Most people considered +Miss Leigh the beauty of the ship, but this novel and agreeable prominence had +not spoiled her and she was always ready to oblige—to accompany a song, amuse +the children, pick up and rectify a piece of knitting, promenade the deck, play +quoits, or dance. +</p> + +<p> +The various other girls on board, with whom she was popular, had assured her of +the joys awaiting her and them in Rangoon. Dances, picknics, concerts, +paper-chases—in short, no end of gaiety—all to be enjoyed in that yet unknown +and romantic country, “the Land of the Golden Umbrella.” Often the girls sat in +one another’s cabins, discussed and described frocks and beautiful toilettes, +at present unseen and packed away in the baggage-room. Also they talked over +their fellow-passengers—not forgetting the young men—and when Shafto’s name was +mentioned, an occasional sly glance or hint would be thrown at Sophy, of which +she endeavoured to appear serenely unconscious. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Early one morning the passengers awoke to find themselves at anchor in Colombo +harbour, and the soft warm air brought them a delicious whiff of the celebrated +cinnamon gardens. Many were landing for Southern India and a quantity of cargo +had to be discharged. As this was bound to be a lengthy process, the remnant +who were bound for Rangoon had nearly a whole day ashore. Mrs. Milward and +maid, and her young friends Miss Leigh and Mr. Shafto, Herr Bernhard, the +Pomeroys, Mrs. Lacy and several of her satellites, breakfasted at the Galle +Face Hotel, and subsequently made trips in rickshaws, shopped in the bazaar, +and had afternoon tea at Mount Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +It was, as everyone agreed, a most delightful break. On that same evening, as +they steamed out into the moonlit Bay of Bengal, Sophy and Shafto paced the +half-deserted deck, gazing on the Southern Cross, and the former suddenly said: +</p> + +<p> +“That was our last stopping-place. When I leave the <i>Blankshire</i>, where I +have been so much at home, I shall feel rather astray.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you would like a home on the rolling deep?” suggested her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed; shall I <i>ever</i> forget that day we had off Crete? But I have +never been long away from mother; I am going to a new country, a new life, and +almost new relations—it all seems so strange and vague.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your aunt cannot be a stranger,” suggested Shafto. “You know her, don’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; but I have not seen her for eight years. The last time she was over, +she stayed with us for a few weeks. I remember her as handsome and beautifully +dressed, with wonderful toilet arrangements in ivory and silver, and bottles of +heavy Indian scent. She was very kind and had such soft caressing manners, and +gave us lots of chocolate and nice presents. I recollect a beautiful emerald +ring she wore—but I cannot recall the colour of her eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, that oversight will soon be repaired!” +</p> + +<p> +“Aunt Flora was fond of gaiety and theatres; we lived in Chelsea, and as our +small house could hardly hold her big boxes and we had no telephone, she went +to the Carlton, where she was more in the middle of things, and could entertain +her friends from India and Burma—but she came to see us two or three times a +week.” +</p> + +<p> +“And where was her lord and master?” +</p> + +<p> +“In Germany; I have never seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did your aunt come across him?” +</p> + +<p> +“In Hong Kong, of all places! She was married at eighteen to a young officer; +they ran away, and I believe grandpa never forgave her. He was a General, a +strict old martinet, and she was his favourite daughter. After they had been +married a couple of years, Aunt Flora’s husband was killed in an accident and +she was left rather badly off. People out there were very kind to her. She had +been hurt in the accident and was laid up for months. Then this rich German +asked her to marry him, and as she was reluctant to return home and face +grandpa, she said ‘Yes.’ But perhaps it was love match number two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, perhaps it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“That all happened twenty years ago, and since then Aunt Flora has made her +home in the East—China, the Straits Settlements and Burma. You see, her friends +and her interests are mostly out there. She and mother always write to one +another; we do her commissions in London, and she sends us Burmese silks and +umbrellas and curry stuff; but we were immensely surprised when, without any +little hints or preparations, Uncle Karl wrote and invited me to pay them a +long visit—and so here I am! I do hope I shan’t be a fish out of water. I’ve +never been accustomed to living with wealthy people, and, I’m told that Uncle +Karl is immensely rich.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need not consider that a drawback. It is better than being immensely +poor—for instance, like myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t look poor.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled as she glanced at his well-cut suit and admirable brown shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not exactly a whining beggar, selling boot laces and matches, but I am +uncommonly glad to have got this job, which brings me in about four hundred a +year. In London I was a clerk at less than half, and here is my chance to see +the world—and I’m bound to make the most of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Milward said you were to have gone into the Army.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but if you can’t get what you like, you must like what you can get,” was +the philosophic rejoinder. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose your people were very sorry to part with you. My poor mother cried +for nearly three days; my sister, I know, will miss me dreadfully. This is not +sheer vanity, as you might suppose, but we have always done things together—and +there is only a year between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my mother did not cry much, and I have no sisters to mourn for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No sisters,” she echoed, as if the fact struck hot as unusual. +</p> + +<p> +“No, nor brothers either—only cousins.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes they do just as well; are they pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered rather curtly, as Cossie’s round complacent face rose before +his mental eye. +</p> + +<p> +After a short pause he changed the topic and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you ride, Miss Leigh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but not since we’ve come to London; I love riding. In the country, in +father’s lifetime, I rode a cob—he went in the cart, too; he was such a dear, +but very tricky; once or twice he ran away with me; I didn’t tell father, +because I knew I’d never again be allowed to ride alone, and I do enjoy riding +by myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry to hear that, for if I can rise to the price of a gee, I was hoping +you would allow me to join you occasionally.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should be delighted, but——” and she hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” he added quickly, “I know what you are going to say: ‘How about a +chaperon?’” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps they don’t keep chaperons in Rangoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, my dear, they do,” declared Mrs. Maitland, who, as she joined them, +had overheard the last remark, “and extra fierce specimens, I can assure you! +Miss Leigh, they want me to sing Gounod’s ‘Ave Maria,’ so will you be an angel +and come and play my accompaniment?” +</p> + +<p> +As Miss Leigh was always ready to be “an angel” at a moment’s notice, she +offered no resistance when Mrs. Maitland took her by the arm and led her away +to the music-room. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto and Miss Leigh were usually among the first to appear on deck, both +being early risers; she, in order to leave a clear field for Mrs. Milward’s +prolonged toilet, and the elaborate operations of her clever maid. The pretty +grey hair had to be taken out of pins, brushed, back-combed and deftly +arranged, as the frame to its owner’s beaming and youthful face. Lacing, +buttoning and hooking also absorbed considerable time. +</p> + +<p> +As for Shafto, he was no lie-a-bed. Even in those dark, raw winter days at +Lincoln Square, when breakfast was served by electric light, he was always +punctual, and one of the first to descend and retrieve his boots through the +smoky atmosphere of the lower regions. What a contrast were those murky hours +to these glorious mornings in the tropics—the green translucent sea, the soft +golden light, the salt, stimulating air, all shimmering and melting together! +The day really dawned for Shafto when a certain Panama hat, crowning a +beautiful head, emerged from the companion ladder, and the smile in a pair of +bright dark eyes greeted him like a ray of sunshine. One morning, as the couple +paced the deck before breakfast, accompanied by Mr. Hoskins, an excited fellow +traveller accosted the trio. +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” he began, “have you heard? They have just signalled land ahead!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, where?” cried Sophy eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see over the starboard bow, that faint dark streak upon the sky line?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then,” he announced impressively, “that is Burma!” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto snatched up a pair of glasses and gazed at the long line of coast and, +as he gazed, he felt as if he stood upon Pisgah and a whole new world lay open +before him. He was figuratively surveying the Promised Land! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI<br/> +A BURMESE HOSTESS</h2> + +<p> +Early in the same afternoon the <i>Blankshire</i> picked up her pilot at +Elephant Point and entered the famous Irrawaddy. Long before her destination +was in sight, twenty miles from the sea, the glorious Shwe Dagon, a shining +golden object, towered into view, flashing in the sunlight against a background +of impenetrable woods. +</p> + +<p> +Rangoon, on a river navigable for nine hundred miles, is a large and important +seaport and, as the wealth of one of the richest countries filters through its +ports, naturally the approach is thronged with shipping. Our incoming liner met +or overtook cargo steamers, tank ships, battered tramps and heavily laden +wind-jammers in the tow of straining tugs, not to mention steam-launches, +barges and swarms of the local <i>sampan</i>, or small boat. +</p> + +<p> +At the wharf where, amidst deafening yells and hoarse shoutings, the +<i>Blankshire</i> crept to her berth, crowds of different races—brown, black, +yellow and white—awaited the English mail. Passengers were eagerly claimed by +their friends and hurried away to motors and carriages; all was excitement and +bustle. Alas! ’board-ship friendships soon evaporate, and presently Shafto +found himself standing on the aft-deck with his gun-case and cabin luggage, +deserted and forgotten—no, for here came Hoskins, the police officer, hot and +breathless. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, look here, old chap!” he panted, “I’m just off to catch my train to +Tonghoo, but I’ve had a word with FitzGerald; it will be all right about the +chummery; they can take you in on Monday. I see Salter on board, one of the +head assistants in Gregory’s; I expect he has come to meet you. Well, I must +run; so long!” +</p> + +<p> +This good-natured fellow passenger was immediately succeeded by a cabin +steward. “Been looking for you everywhere, sir,” he said; “there’s a gentleman +come aboard asking for you.” As he concluded, a spare, middle-aged man wearing +a large topee and a dust-coloured suit approached and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Shafto, I believe?” and offered a welcoming hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” assented the new arrival. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m Salter from Gregory’s. Manders, the head assistant, asked me to meet you. +I’ll be glad to help you get your things ashore and take you to the Strand +Hotel, where I have booked you a room.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is most awfully good of you,” replied Shafto. “On Monday I believe I am +to get quarters in a chummery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, so you are settled, I see. Now, if you will show me your baggage, I have a +couple of coolies here with a cart and a taxi for ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Salter proved to be remarkably prompt in his measures, and in less than ten +minutes Shafto found himself following his flat narrow back down the steep +gangway and setting his foot for the first time on the soil of Burma. He halted +for a moment to look about. Here was a landmark in his life, a new sphere lay +before him; the street was humming and alive with people, and he stared at the +jostling, motley crowd of British, Burmese, Chinese, mostly a gaily-clad +ever-changing multitude. Among them were shaven priests in yellow robes. Shans +in flapping hats; right in front of him stood a stalwart Burman, wearing a +white jacket, a pink silk handkerchief, twisted jauntily around his bullet +head, and a yellow Lungi, girded to the knee, displayed a three-tailed cat +tattooed on the back of each substantial calf. +</p> + +<p> +And what a curious, soft and penetrating atmosphere; moist and loaded with +unfamiliar, aromatic odours! +</p> + +<p> +However, Mr. Salter, a man of action, had no time to spare for contemplation, +and briskly hustled the stranger into a waiting taxi—for the old days of the +rattling, shattered <i>gharry</i> are numbered. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose this is all new to you?” said Shafto’s acquaintance as they +struggled up the crowded Strand, lined with imposing offices and vast +<i>godowns</i>, or warehouses. +</p> + +<p> +“You may say so,” he replied, eagerly gazing at the dense passing +throng—animated women with flower-decked hair, square-shouldered, sauntering +men, carrying flat umbrellas and smoking huge cheroots, Khaki-clad Tommies and +yellow-faced John Chinamen. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there’s lots to see in Burma,” continued Salter, “an extraordinary mixture +of people and races, and a most beautiful country; such splendid rivers and +forests—but here, in Rangoon, everyone has but one idea.” +</p> + +<p> +In answer to Shafto’s glance of interrogation he said: +</p> + +<p> +“We are a commercial community, and our sole aim and object is to work, to get +rich, and go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that doesn’t apply to the native?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, the Burman does not work; he is merely a spectator. The industry of others +amuses him; his chief object is to enjoy life. Well, here is the hotel; let us +go in and have a look at your quarters.” +</p> + +<p> +After the baggage had been disposed of and Shafto’s room inspected and +criticised, his companion still lingered talking. To Salter, the proverbially +eccentric, this new-comer appeared to be an intelligent young fellow whom he +would like and take to. There was no superior “just out from London to the back +of God-speed” air about him. On the contrary, he appeared to be genuinely +interested in his surroundings and insatiable for information. It struck him, +too, that the forlorn stranger would put in a mighty dull and solitary evening +and, stirred by a benevolent impulse, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you come back and dine at my diggings? I may be able to give you a few +hints as I am an old hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should be delighted,” assented Shafto, “if it won’t be putting you out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, not a bit; Mrs. Salter is accustomed to my bringing home a stray +guest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had I not better dress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not; come along with me now, just as you are.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus the matter being arranged, the pair once more entered the taxi, and were +presently steering through the traffic of various thoroughfares and teeming +bazaars. All at once, with an unexpected lurch, the car turned into a wide, +well-shaded enclosure and halted before a low, heavily-roofed house, supported +on stout wooden legs—an old-time residence. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you go up,” urged Shako’s host, “whilst I pay the taxi—you can settle with +me later.” Here spoke the canny Yorkshire tyke. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto, as requested, climbed the stairs leading up to a wide veranda, on which +opened a sitting-room, lined with teak wood and lighted by long glass doors. +Here he was confronted by a little Burmese woman with a beaming face. She wore +a short white jacket, an extraordinarily tight satin petticoat, or, +<i>tamain</i> of wonderful butterfly colours, enormous gold ear-rings, and a +flower stuck coquettishly behind her left ear. At first he supposed her to be a +picturesque attendant, but when she extended a tiny hand loaded with rings and +murmured “Pleased to see you!” he realised that he was addressed by the +mistress of the house. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my wife,” announced Salter as he entered. “Mee Lay, here’s Mr. Shafto, +one of our new assistants, just out from England; I hope you can give him a +good dinner?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, it will be all right,” and once more she beamed upon her guest, “I +will go and see about it now.” +</p> + +<p> +And in spite of her tight skirt, Mee Lay glided out of the room with an air of +surpassing grace. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say you are surprised to see that Mrs. Salter is of <i>this +country</i>,” said her husband, as he sank into a chair; “but it is by no means +an uncommon match here. Burmese women are very good-humoured and capable; they +make capital wives, and there is no denying the fascination of the Burmese +girl—always so piquant and smiling and dainty. They have also a wonderful +capacity for business and money-making, and a real hunger for land; some of the +best plots in and about Rangoon have been picked up by these shrewd little +creatures. The men-folk, on the other hand, are incurably lazy. They loaf, +gamble and amuse themselves and leave their women-kind to trade, or to weave +silks and manufacture cheroots; numbers of them are in business. Mee Lay, my +wife, owns and runs a good-sized rice mill; and if you were to look into the +back compound you would see it entirely surrounded by her matted paddy-bins, +biding a rise in the market.” +</p> + +<p> +A yet further surprise awaited Shafto, in the shape of a little sallow girl, +with clouds of crimped golden hair, beautifully dressed in European style, in a +white embroidered frock and wide silk sash. +</p> + +<p> +Rosetta had inherited the high cheek-bones and short nose of her mother’s race, +the blue eyes and firm jaw of her Yorkshire parent. On the whole, she was an +attractive child. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Rosetta Salter received the strange gentleman with overpowering +condescension, and spoke English in a thin, squeaky voice. In a flatteringly +short time she had descended from her high horse, and accepted Shafto as a +friend, revealed her age (eight years) and told him all about her French doll +and her new brown boots—also from Paris. +</p> + +<p> +The dinner, which was announced directly after the return of Mrs. Salter, +proved to be excellent, well cooked and a novelty. For the first time Shafto +tasted real curry, also mango fool. The appointments were exclusively European, +with the exception of a massive silver bowl, filled with purple orchids, which +adorned the centre of the table. Two snowy-clad Madras servants waited with +silent dexterity and conversation never flagged. Salter discoursed of +chummeries and the <i>Blankshire</i> passengers, and Mrs. Salter thoughtfully +prepared the new arrival for the alarming insects of Lower Burma, whilst +Rosetta, for her part, kept up an accompaniment on a high chirruping note. +</p> + +<p> +During a momentary pause Shafto was startled by an odd sound—an imperious, +unnatural voice that called, “Tucktoo! Tucktoo! Tucktoo!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it—or <i>who</i> is it?” he inquired anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s only a large lizard that lives under the eaves,” explained Salter, +“one of our specialities. In the rains, when he is in good voice, he is +deafening.” +</p> + +<p> +“He brings good and bad luck,” added Mrs. Salter. “Oh, yes, that is so,” and +she flipped the air with her two first fingers, a favourite gesture among +Burmese women. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you mean luck?” Shafto asked. +</p> + +<p> +“If he gives seven ‘Tucktoos’ without stopping, that is luck—great big luck—but +if he goes on, he brings trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only if he stops at an odd number,” corrected the child. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you know all about it,” remarked the guest. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, our Tucktoo never goes beyond seven—I think he is old—and mother says +the <i>nats</i> are kind to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“The cats are kind to you!” ejaculated Shafto. “But why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” hastily broke in Salter, “nats are spirits, good spirits or bad, who +live in the trees; you will hear enough about them before you are a month in +Burma. Their worship is the national faith.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I thought Buddhism——” began Shafto, and hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, ostensibly and ostentatiously, but wait and see.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a Catholic,” announced the child abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +She was excessively self-conscious and anxious to show off before Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you really?” he said with an incredulous smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I attend the convent school; I am learning French and dancing, I go +to mass; mother goes to the pagoda festivals—mother is a heathen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rosetta! Mind what you are saying,” sharply interposed Salter; “your mother’s +no more a heathen than yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rosetta is a nasty little girl,” said Mrs. Salter, rising, “she forgets +herself before company, and must go away to be——” +</p> + +<p> +A succession of shrieks interrupted the verdict. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do forgive her, please!” implored Shafto; “I ask it as a favour, a special +favour.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Rosetta clung to her mother apostrophising her in an unknown tongue, +then with piercing screams, entirely regardless of her beautiful clean frock, +she flung herself flat upon the floor. +</p> + +<p> +If Shafto had been inclined to meditation, he might have reflected on the +future of the offspring of two such divergent countries as the West Riding of +Yorkshire and Pegu. At one moment the prim, well-mannered English girl; the +next, an impulsive, emotional daughter of the Far East. When she grew to +woman’s estate, which of the races would predominate? +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, as Rosetta lay prone and kicking upon the <i>dhurri</i>, her father +murmured apologetically: +</p> + +<p> +“When the lassie is a bit over-fired and excited, she doesn’t know what she is +saying.” +</p> + +<p> +Mee Lay raised her struggling offspring, was about to bear her away and give +her “Tap Tap,” when again Shafto interposed: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I say, do forgive her this time, please, Mrs. Salter. This is my first day +in Rangoon—and I ask it as a particular favour.” +</p> + +<p> +Mee Lay, an adoring parent, was by no means reluctant to grant his petition, +and when the tearful culprit was released and set down, she turned to Shafto +and said in her piping treble: +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, nice gentleman, but she would not have hurt me much. It was not I +who said mother was a heathen savage, but Ethel Lucas, and I slapped her, so I +did—and Sister gave me a bad mark. I, too, go to the pagoda festivals and like +them awfully much. There are bells and beads, and flowers and priests, the same +as in the convent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now that peace has been declared, Rosetta, here is a chocolate,” said her +father, “and you can go to bed. Shafto, we will adjourn into the veranda to +smoke, watch the rising moon, and listen to the hum of the bazaar—a new sound +for your ears!” +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes both were extended in comfortable, long cane chairs, no doubt +experiencing an agreeable sense of <i>bien être</i>. The outlook, with its +heavy foliage, was restful to the eye, and the air was charged with a spicy +warmth. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Salter began: “On Monday you are due at the office to report +yourself. You need not be scared at the Head, although he has a stiff, +discouraging sort of manner, and they say that, like the east wind, he finds +out all your weak points in the twinkling of an eye! He is just and impartial, +and no man is more respected in the whole of Burma than George Gregory. I +suppose you know that Gregory’s is one of the oldest-established houses here?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto nodded; he had learned this fact on board ship. +</p> + +<p> +“We do a great trade and employ a number of young fellows, mostly from public +schools and universities. One or two other firms do not engage gentlemen—for +reasons that, perhaps, you may guess. Out of business hours our house keeps a +sharp eye on their employés. A young chap can get into any amount of mischief +in Rangoon—Rangoon is full of temptations.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is it?” muttered Shafto indifferently—what could its temptations offer in +comparison to London? +</p> + +<p> +“Anyhow it seems a huge, stirring sort of place,” he added, as he watched +motors, bicycles, and <i>gharries</i> whirring past the entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“Stirring! Why you may say so—it’s humming like a hive day and night. There are +so many taps to turn in this wealthy country—timber, rice, wolfram, jade, tin, +oil, rubies. A man with a little capital, if he does not lose his head, can +make a fortune in ten years, especially in paddy. Our particular trade is teak +and paddy—that’s rice, you know. I expect your work will be on the wharf and +pretty heavy at first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, anyway, it’s an open-air job.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you have the pull now; this is our cold season—October to March; but the +hot weather is no joke; as for the rains, you might as well live in a steam +laundry; we get a hundred inches here in Lower Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred inches!” echoed Shafto, “you are not serious?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it pours down as if the sea were overhead, and goes on steadily for days. +Frogs flop round and round your room, and you can almost hear the trees +growing. In the rains the forests are a wonderful sight, such dense masses of +foliage and flowers. Can you imagine great trees entirely covered with +exquisite blooms, and garlands of pink and lilac creepers interlacing the +jungle?” +</p> + +<p> +“How gorgeous! Perhaps I may see all this some day,” said Shafto, “after I have +explored Rangoon itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I hope you may,” assented his companion, “and now I want to ask you a +strange question.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right—ask away!” +</p> + +<p> +“You have only been a few hours on shore, and I am curious to know if you have +received any impression of the place and people—you know, first impressions go +a long way!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Although I have only just rattled through the streets and along the +Strand, the impression I gathered is that the Burmese appear to be an amazingly +happy crew, with no thought for the morrow; they were all laughing and +chattering as if life was a splendid joke and they enjoyed it thoroughly. The +<i>joie de vivre</i> simply hits me in the eye!” +</p> + +<p> +“I can explain all that,” said Salter, putting down his cheroot and sitting +forward in his long chair. “The Burman has no fear of death, but proclaims an +intense consciousness that it is a mere passing over to another existence—one +of a chain of many future lives—and I think I may say that this belief is +universal. They also declare that a man’s present life is absolutely controlled +by the influence of past good or bad deeds, and that in the next world they may +possibly be better off than they are in this. Although a Burman gives alms, +worships at the pagoda on appointed days, and repeats the doxology he has +learnt at school, he governs his life by the <i>nats</i>—spirits of the air, +the forests, streams, and home, who must be propitiated.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard of these <i>nats</i> until now,” said Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“No; but, as I have said before, you will hear a good deal about them here, +especially if you mix with the Burmans.” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly hope I shall see something of the people of the country.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will find them interesting; a full-blooded, pleasure-loving race; they’ve +curious, original ideas, drawn from their ancient and sacred books, and an +amazingly generous notion of time. For instance, they talk glibly of worlds a +hundred thousand years old, and believe that this very planet has been +destroyed no fewer than sixty-five times—chiefly by fire, on ten occasions by +water, and once by wind! According to them, as in the New Testament, ‘a +thousand years are but as yesterday.’ And yet they do not acknowledge the +existence of a Supreme Being—the highest glory is annihilation.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a light little figure flitted up the stairs, leaving an +impression of slender elegance and satin skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, there goes Ma Chit, my wife’s cousin!” explained Salter. +</p> + +<p> +“And I must be taking my departure,” said Shafto rising. “What you have been +telling me is extraordinarily interesting, and I would gladly sit on for hours, +but it is ten o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and we workers are early birds. I hope you will come and see us again. I +have been twenty years in the country and I can tell you many a curious tale. +To-morrow will be Sunday and, if you like, I will call round and take you to do +a bit of sightseeing—the Pagoda and the lakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should enjoy it of all things; perhaps you will have tiffin with me at the +hotel?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you must come to us; twelve o’clock sharp, and afterwards we’ll make a +start.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll just go in and say good-bye to Mrs. Salter.” +</p> + +<p> +When they entered the sitting-room, where lamps had been lighted, they found +the lady of the house in an ecstasy of admiration, gesticulating with her tiny +brown hands, as she gloated over a length of rose and silver brocade. Standing +beside her was the proud owner of this magnificence; a slim, graceful girl, +wearing heavy gold ornaments and flowers in her hair, and, in spite of an +extravagant use of pearl powder, undeniably pretty. Her slanting eyes were +long-lashed and expressive, and her little mocking mouth wore a bewitching +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at my <i>tamain</i>, Papa Salter!” she cried; “a piece of the best satin, +just enough for a skirt—one yard and a half; Herr Bernhard brought it to me +from England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid indeed, Ma Chit,” he replied; “you will cut them all out at the big +festival and the <i>Pwes</i>. Mee Lay, Mr. Shafto wishes to say ‘good night’!” +</p> + +<p> +Mee Lay took a somewhat preoccupied leave of her guest, her eyes and attention +being riveted upon the gorgeous material in her hand; but Ma Chit accorded the +young man a gay salutation and a splendid view of her beautiful white teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Salter accompanied his guest to the entrance gate, giving him careful +directions as to the whereabouts of his hotel. It was an exquisite starlight +night; the roar of the bazaar, the clang of the trams, and the whistling of +launches were in the distance; the compound itself was so still that the sudden +thud of a fallen jack-fruit made quite a startling sound. As the men exchanged +last words, their attention was arrested by a charming tableau in the lighted +sitting-room; two figures were outlined in strong relief against the dark teak +walls, both absorbed in conversation. Ma Chit presented a particularly +attractive picture, with her rose-crowned head, graceful posture, and waving +hands; even as they gazed, her rippling laugh drifted seductively towards them. +</p> + +<p> +“In this country, great is the tyranny of Temptation, and <i>there</i> is one +of the temptations,” gravely announced Salter; “Rangoon is full of these +fascinating <i>chits</i>, who have no morals, but are witty, good-tempered and +gay. Ma Chit—the name means ‘my love’—is said to be irresistible and the +prettiest girl in the province; she is Bernhard’s housekeeper.” +</p> + +<p> +“His housekeeper!” repeated Shafto; “why, he told me he lived at the German +Club!” +</p> + +<p> +“That may be; but he has a fine house in Kokine. It is not an uncommon +situation—that sort of temporary marriage. Ma Chit looks after his interests, +rules his household, and makes him comfortable; her people acquiesce. All +marriages are easily arranged and easily dissolved among the Burmans. A young +man may offer sweets, serenade a girl a few times; if he is acceptable, there’s +a family dinner, with much chewing of betel nut, and that constitutes the +ceremony!” +</p> + +<p> +“What a happy-go-lucky country!” exclaimed Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Happy, yes! Lucky, I’m not sure! Well now, don’t lose your way; first turn to +the right, second to the left, and there is the Strand. Good night!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII<br/> +EAST AND WEST</h2> + +<p> +The first and principal sight in Rangoon is the great Shwe Dagon Pagoda, and on +Sunday afternoon Shafto and his new acquaintance passed between the golden +lions at its base, and slowly ascended flight after flight of steep brick +steps, lined with flower-decked shrines and blocked by dense masses of +worshippers, who were swarming up and down. +</p> + +<p> +The temple stands in imposing majesty on a wide platform and dominates the +town—in fact, apart from the trade and business element, the Pagoda <i>is</i> +Rangoon. The splendid edifice is entirely encased in plates of solid gold, and +the “Ti,” which rises from the inverted begging-bowl, is studded with priceless +precious stones—emeralds, rubies, sapphires and diamonds—which flash and +glitter in the sun. These have been presented by pious pilgrims from all parts +of the province and beyond; for, with the exception of the Caaba at Mecca, no +earthly shrine attracts such multitudes, or receives such generous largesse. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto and his companion having toiled up the steps, worn hollow by millions of +feet, halted on the plateau, which was half-covered with little stalls, whose +keepers were selling flowers, candles, flags, dolls, and images of Buddha—made +in Birmingham. Here were hundreds, nay thousands of joyous gaily-clad +worshippers moving to and fro, a truly brilliant pageant of passing life. It +was difficult to say which were the more strikingly dressed: the men in +brilliant turbans and silk waist cloths, or the women in satin skirts of +endless pattern, their chignons wreathed with flowers, wearing a profusion of +gold ornaments, and attended by many children. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I see you are struck with the spectacle!” said Salter. “Isn’t it an orgy +of colour—rose, orange, purple, scarlet? There is nothing more picturesque than +a Burmese crowd.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a great show!” rejoined Shafto; “in gala costume. I can now understand +why the national emblem is a peacock.” +</p> + +<p> +As they made their way through the throng there was a clanging of melodious +gongs and sounds of loud continuous chanting, whilst overhead the far-away sea +breeze stirred the bells on the Ti to a silvery tinkle, tinkle. +</p> + +<p> +To Shafto this scene was amazing and impressive; the wonderful golden Pagoda +with its crown of jewels, the vast multitudes in many-hued garments, the +flowers, fluttering flags, coloured lights, all as it were attuned to the +accompaniment of merry voices, sonorous Gregorian chanting, and deep-toned +gongs. +</p> + +<p> +And what a labyrinth of shrines! Hours might be spent examining their rich +carvings. At one of the principal of these shrines a service was proceeding; to +Shafto, it recalled the celebration of mass in a Roman Catholic chapel, for +here were shaven priests intoning prayers on the steps of a decorated altar; +here also were incense, lights, and a multitude of devout people, kneeling, +rosary in hand, chanting the responses. +</p> + +<p> +Among the worshippers Shafto recognised Mee Lay and her cousin Ma Chit, attired +in what, no doubt, were their festival toilets. Mee Lay’s white jacket was +fastened by diamond buttons, and large diamonds sparkled in her little brown +ears; as for Ma Chit, she was adorned with the national gold necklace, or +<i>dalizan</i>. In her sleek, black hair were artfully arranged sprigs of +scarlet hibiscus, and between her tiny hands, glittering with rings, and +uplifted palm to palm, she held a beautiful flower, which, when her devotions +were accomplished, she laid upon the shrine with an undulating movement of +adoration and grace. +</p> + +<p> +“You see my wife follows her own religion,” remarked Salter, “and I make no +objection. I was brought up as a Baptist, in the very strictest sense of the +word. Rosetta, as you already know, is a Roman Catholic; sometimes Mee Lay +brings her here; the service and the spectacle are attractive enough, though +never so to me. My Nonconformist blood leaves me cold to this sort of display. +Mee Lay is a good, religious woman; when you come to think of it, the East is +far more devout than the West. She insists that our faith is a mere feeble copy +of Buddhism, which had six hundreds years the start of Christianity. There is +no doubt that the Buddhists preach most of the moral truths that are to be +found in the Gospels, and Buddha was a Deliverer, who taught the necessity of a +pure life, of self-denial and unworldliness. He exhorted his disciples to +practise every virtue. But here is the difference between Buddhism and +Christianity: Buddha brings a man by a thorny path to the brink of a huge, +black chasm, and drops him into annihilation.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems unsatisfying,” said Shafto. “Yet, by all accounts, Buddhism is a +wonderful religion. I heard a fellow on board ship discussing its code and the +extraordinary way in which it has fastened on mankind, and spread. He declared +that every fourth human being who came into the world was a Buddhist!” +</p> + +<p> +“So they say,” replied Salter with a careless shrug. “I doubt if the assertion +would hold water. At the same time Buddha has an enormous number of followers +in China, Tibet, India, and Ceylon; they, too, have traditions of a Holy Mother +and Child, of a fast in the wilderness, and here, even now, crucifixion is the +form of capital punishment.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you think about Buddhism in Burma?” inquired Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Buddhism will hold its ground, in spite of many converts among the Karens. The +Burmans are a sunny, happy people, as you see, who hope for a good time here, +and a good time in the worlds to come. They held the same expectations and +creed, and wore the same clothes, two thousand years ago; time does not appear +to touch them; they are as gay and irresponsible as so many butterflies. You +know Kipling’s lines to Rangoon?” +</p> + +<p> +Before Shafto could reply, Salter quoted in a sonorous monotone: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + +‘Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade?<br/> + Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone,<br/> +And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid,<br/> + Laugh ’neath my Shwe Dagon.’ +</p> + +<p> +“From the ‘Song of the Cities.’ Rather appropriate to the occasion, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, fits it to a T,” assented Shafto, as his eye wandered over the vast +assemblage on the plateau, talking, joking, laughing, smoking, absolutely +content with the day, without a thought for the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere felt heavy with the scent of incense, flowers, and cheroots; +little bells still tinkled gaily and the air was full of silver music. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I should like to show you the reverse of this scene,” said Salter; “it +won’t take you long,” and he led his companion away to a solitary, deserted +place at the rear of the Pagoda. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” he said, indicating some dilapidated moss-grown stones, “are a number +of totally-forgotten English graves. There was desperate fighting all round +this very plateau when we first came to this country, some seventy odd years +ago; these dead, forgotten pioneer fellows struck a stout blow for the British +flag. British and German trade, thanks to them, have flourished like a green +bay tree; ships and railways carry all before them, and the days of the caravan +are numbered. Well, now we shall move on to the Royal lakes and Dalhousie Park, +and see all we can, for, after to-day, you won’t have much spare time for doing +the tourist—you will be a cog in the machine.” +</p> + +<p> +The scene presented by the Royal lakes proved an uncompromising contrast to +that at the Pagoda; save for the Eastern background of palms and bamboos the +gathering might have been in London. Here were motor-cars, smart carriages, +pretty women wearing the latest fashions, men in flannels and tweeds; there was +but little colour in their clothes—or their complexions—no brilliant orange or +flaming scarlet, no bells, gongs, buoyant vitality, or merry laughter; the +community were languidly discussing the mail news, the latest bridge +tournament, and the approaching race meeting. By the lakes you encountered +Europe—more particularly Great Britain. At the Shwe Dagon you found yourself in +touch with an older world and face to face with the silken East! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br/> +“KEEP AN EYE UPON HER”</h2> + +<p> +Gregory’s proved to be a vast and imposing concern, occupying a prominent +situation on the Strand and evidently doing an immense trade. All this the new +assistant readily gathered as Salter steered him in the direction of the +manager’s sanctum. +</p> + +<p> +Here he found the head of the firm, a tall individual, with grizzled hair +covering a fine square head, a hard, clean-shaven face, and a pince-nez—which +pince-nez he invariably removed when about to make a disagreeable remark. He +received the new employé with an air of cool detachment, and shook hands in a +manner that implied, “You must not expect this sort of thing every day.” Being +taller than Shafto, he appeared to tower over him as he questioned him +respecting the firm in London—which was but a small and insignificant offshoot +of the great house in Rangoon; then he made a few perfunctory remarks on the +subject of the voyage out, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I understand from Salter that you have found quarters in a chummery; I hope +your house-mates will prove congenial——” he paused and added as a sort of +afterthought, “Mrs. Gregory is usually at home on Thursdays from three to six.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” murmured Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +The principal then struck a handbell, which summoned an elderly man to his +presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Lowcroft,” he said, “this is Mr. Shafto, who will take over Mr. Shaw’s share +of the landing business; you had better show him round and give him +instructions. By the way,” turning to Shafto, “I suppose you don’t know a word +of Burmese or Hindustani?” +</p> + +<p> +The new arrival announced his complete ignorance of either language. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you must see about getting a munshi at once.” +</p> + +<p> +And with a nod the new assistant found himself dismissed. +</p> + +<p> +On the very first Thursday after his arrival in Rangoon, Shafto presented +himself at the “Barn,” a residence purchased many years previously for the use +of the then reigning Gregory. +</p> + +<p> +The house was large but unostentatious; the well-matured beautiful grounds and +gardens were notable even in Rangoon. A recent acquaintance, who escorted +Shafto, presented him to Mrs. Gregory, a smart, sandy-haired little lady of +five or six and thirty, with an animated, expressive face, intelligent grey +eyes, and slightly prominent white teeth. She was exquisitely dressed in some +soft pale blue material, and wore a row of large and lustrous pearls. Among the +crowd of guests the newcomer discovered, to his great relief, several of his +fellow-assistants, and not a few passengers from the <i>Blankshire</i>, +including Mrs. Milward, who hailed him with a radiant countenance and plump, +uplifted hands. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Douglas! How I’ve been longing to see you! I’m off to Mandalay +to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m very sorry to go—there’s such lots to do and see in this surprising +place, but Ella has nailed me down to a date. Have you seen anything of Sophy—I +mean,” correcting herself, “Miss Leigh?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ve been tremendously busy fitting on my new harness and have had no time +for calling.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet you are <i>here</i>!” she protested, with arched brows. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, but this is official; Gregory as good as ordered me to wait upon his +consort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, hush, Douglas! She is a great friend of mine—my own cousin, and a dear. +Of course, I know that George looks as if he had swallowed the fire-irons, but +that really means nothing; he is obliged to keep all you naughty boys in +order!” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I’m a naughty boy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, I didn’t mean that, my young Sir Galahad! Now come away with me and +I’ll show you the wonderful ferns and the orchid house. I must have a good, +comfortable, private talk.” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the pair found themselves alone in the fernery she turned to face +him, and said, with unusual animation: +</p> + +<p> +“Now I want to tell you about Sophy—I’m miserable when I think of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miserable—but why?” +</p> + +<p> +“When you’ve been to call at ‘Heidelberg’—I may tell you it’s miles and miles +away—you’ll see for yourself; it’s my opinion that she has been decoyed out to +this country under false pretences.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but surely Mrs. Krauss is her own aunt?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is, and more or less an invalid, utterly broken down by years of Burma. +Mrs. Krauss is apathetic, dull, and boneless, and looks as if you could fold +her up and put her in a bag. Herr Krauss is a fat, loud-talking, trampling +German—<i>not</i> a gentleman, but a man with a keen eye to business. His +wife’s half-caste maid who waited upon her, managed the house, and was with her +for years, has married and gone to Australia, and poor Sophy has been imported +to replace the treasure; that is, to nurse her aunt, run the house, and play +the old bounder’s accompaniments, for he, like Nero, is musical. He is also a +friend of that odious Bernhard’s. Bernhard is a well-born Prussian—I’ll say +that for him—the other is of the waiter class, who has made his money in China +and Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come, I say, this is rather bad! What’s to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“I only wish I knew. The Krauss abode is large and gloomy—it looks like a house +in a bad temper, and stands in the heart of the German community; the servants +seemed a low-class lot, the rooms were dark and untidy, and smelt of mould and +medicine, but Sophy was just as bright and cheerful as usual; apparently +delighted with everything—loyal, of course, to her own blood. Now, I know that +you and Sophy are friends, and I want you to keep an eye upon her,” concluded +this injudicious matron. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid my eye will not be of much use,” protested Shafto, “I am most +frightfully sorry for what you tell me, but Miss Leigh has lots of pals. There +are the Pomeroys, Maitlands and——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s true,” interrupted Mrs. Milward impatiently, “but she has no way +of getting about. Krauss takes the car and is away in it all day. I gather that +he has the strict German idea about a girl’s being brought up to cook, to sew, +to slave, to find <i>all</i> her interests in her home! In fact, he told me so +plainly; he also added that he had paid for Sophy’s passage and implied that he +intended to have the worth of his money—his pound of flesh!” +</p> + +<p> +“Brute!” ejaculated Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Agreed! I have enlisted one friend for the poor child. Polly Gregory—she is so +clever, clear-headed and decided, and will be a rock of strength—she is sure to +like Sophy, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, that will be all right!” +</p> + +<p> +“I put in a good word for you too, Master Douglas.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was kind,” and he swept off his straw hat. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if that’s meant sarcastic? Perhaps you think good wine needs no bush? +Yes, and I’ve told Polly I knew you as a boy—and how, instead of quill-driving, +you hoped to wear a sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hope told a flattering tale,” he answered with a laugh. “Don’t forget that the +pen is the mightier of the two.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she dissented; “I back the sword, though it’s rarely drawn now, thank +goodness. Well, I’ve said my say and given you my impressions and instructions; +we must go back and join the <i>Burra Mems</i>. I shall write to you from +Mandalay and see you later, when I pass through to Calcutta. Now you had better +go and try to get a set of tennis,” and, with a wave of adieu, Mrs. Milward +strolled away across the grass, an attractive personality with her fresh +complexion, soft round face, dark pencilled brows, and bewitching mauve +toilet—which toilet was subsequently tabooed by her daughter as “too young”! +</p> + +<p> +“George,” said Mrs. Gregory to her husband, “that new importation is a nice +boy; Milly Milward has known him since he was in blouses; he has had rather +hard luck; his father was swindled out of a comfortable fortune, and he has to +turn to and earn his bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“What we all do!” growled George. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but some ways are so much more agreeable than others. His profession was +to have been along the path of glory.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the Army, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“And now his profession is checking inventories and cargoes. As he is new to +the business, he will have his hands fairly full for the next few months; so, +my dear Polly, don’t turn his head just <i>yet</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“As if I ever turned anybody’s head.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot answer for others, but you certainly turned mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but that was twelve years ago; I’m afraid my fascinations have faded since +then. Joking apart, George, Milly has left me two legacies—two protégés to +befriend. Shafto is one—I am to invite him to tea, and talk to him with wisdom, +and win his complete and entire confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! and the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“The other is Miss Leigh, whom she chaperoned from home. She is living with an +aunt, who is married to a German named Krauss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know; a poisonous chap!” +</p> + +<p> +“So she seems to think, and that this girl, who by all accounts is very pretty +and charming, and a marvellous pianist, has been lured out to act as maid and +housekeeper, and save the pocket of Herr Krauss. Now, as I have two legacies, I +want to know if you will take one of them off my hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“As if my hands were not full!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, officially, only; now I offer you your choice. Which will you have? +Shafto or the girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“You need scarcely ask; I’ll take the girl, of course, and leave you Shafto.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are an old silly!” she exclaimed, ruffling up his grizzled hair; “I +wonder which of us will have the better bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +With regard to the subject of Mrs. Gregory’s conversation, Douglas set to work +with the proverbial enthusiasm of a new broom and soon became—as Salter had +predicted—a cog in the whirling wheels of a machine. But Thursday being the +Station holiday, he hired a taxi and had himself driven out to Kokine, in order +to call on Mrs. Krauss and Miss Leigh; unfortunately his journey proved to be a +waste of time and money. The leisurely servant who emerged from the entrance of +“Heidelberg,” salver in hand, accepted his visiting-card with a salaam, and +then announced with stolid unconcern: +</p> + +<p> +“Missis can’t see.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br/> +THE MANTLE OF FERNANDA</h2> + +<p> +During the long and weary wait whilst the <i>Blankshire</i> was being made +fast, Sophy Leigh and her girl friends had collected in a group taking leave of +one another and making plans for future meetings. +</p> + +<p> +“I must say I envy you,” said Lena Morgan, the elder of the two plain, pleasant +sisters, whose father was “something in timber.” “You will be the darling of +enormously rich relatives, have several motors, and horses galore.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not so sure,” she gaily rejoined. “‘Galore’ is such a big word, but from +what my aunt has told us, I believe I shall have what is called ‘a good time,’ +and I hope everyone of us will share it. I expect Aunt Flora will be here to +meet me,” she added with happy certainty. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course she will,” assented Eva Pomeroy; “she does not have a niece out +every mail. I dare say she has already bought you a nice saddle horse. You will +be riding every morning, and we can meet and arrange all sorts of jolly picnics +and expeditions. I shall come round and look you up as soon as I’ve unpacked +and settled.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a heavy bang announced the letting down of the gangway, over +which a crowd instantly poured and scattered about the decks. +</p> + +<p> +Among the first to appear aft was an immense individual, wearing a loose +tussore suit, a huge pith topee, and a black and yellow cummerbund. His face, +with its great jowl, wide lipless mouth, short chin, and a pair of goggle eyes, +was distinctly of the frog type. +</p> + +<p> +“Which of you is Miss Leigh?” he demanded in a loud voice, as he approached the +group of girls. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy stood forward and before she could evade the outrage, this ugly fat man +had put his hands on her shoulders and given her a smacking kiss on each cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Even in this exciting moment of imminent departure, the circle paused for a +moment and stared aghast—such an appalling person to claim and kiss Sophy +Leigh! What a frightful shock for the unfortunate girl—whilst the sensations of +several young men on the verge of the group are better imagined than described! +</p> + +<p> +Herr Krauss, for his part, had received a surprise of a far more agreeable +nature, being entirely unprepared to welcome such a pretty, fashionable young +lady, in the character of his wife’s niece. Flora had invariably spoken of her +relatives as “ugly, dowdy little things”; but then, she had only known them at +the awkward age and, being herself remarkably handsome, was super-critical with +regard to beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“Now come along and show me your luggage,” urged Herr Krauss, releasing his new +acquaintance, “and I will see about it. The hand gepäck can go in the car.” +</p> + +<p> +With a sense of dazed bewilderment, Sophy took a hasty leave of her friends and +prepared to follow her leader. As she kept close behind him, whilst he forced +his way through the crowd, she noticed his short, thick neck, and powerful, +aggressive shoulders—she also noticed that he allowed her to carry all her +parcels herself. +</p> + +<p> +When at last they reached the car, he stepped in with surprising agility and +said as he seated himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Now come along, put your things, umbrellas, wraps and parcels here. My man,” +nodding towards a native, “will look after the heavy baggage. Better stick your +dressing-bag in front, as there is not much room. I take up two shares—ha! ha!” +</p> + +<p> +This remark was painfully true. His burly form occupied most of the back seat, +and Sophy with difficulty squeezed herself in beside him. As they glided slowly +away, through the dense throng, she looked about her—her curiosity as raw and +eager as that of Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“What a wonderful, busy place!” she exclaimed. “I see you have telephones and +trams in all directions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, trams!” Krauss echoed contemptuously. “We have <i>everything</i> in +Rangoon; great shops and offices, public buildings, a cathedral, a mosque, +theatres, clubs, sawmills, rice mills, banks—oh yes, it’s a fine place, and so +rich,” and he smacked his lips as he added, “Burma is the land of opportunity.” +</p> + +<p> +“How is my aunt?” inquired Sophy. +</p> + +<p> +“Only middling—she will be glad to see you, and I expect you will do her good. +We live a long way out—in Kokine, where Germans herd together, and I take this +chance of a talk. I am a busy man—particularly of late; and time with me means +<i>money</i>, so I’ll tell you what I have to say in as few words as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy nodded her head in agreeable assent. +</p> + +<p> +“Some years ago my wife met with a bad accident—a fall, out paper-chasing. It +did not seem much at the time, though she lost her nerve; but it came against +her later. During the last two or three years her health has broken down; she +suffers from chronic neuralgia in head and spine, and for days she lies like a +dead woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, poor Aunt Flora, how very sad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you may say so. Well, for the last ten years she has had an invaluable +maid—Fernanda, a Portuguese half-caste, a treasure, who waited on and nursed +her, and took entire charge of the housekeeping. Fernanda understood my tastes +to a T—the curries and stews and blood sausages that I am fond of, and was a +rare hand at coffee. Then came a blow! Fernanda made up her silly mind to marry +a Scotch engineer and go to Australia. I was at my wits’ end the day she gave +notice; I said to myself: ‘Ach Gott! what can we do? No maids in Rangoon, and +meine liebe Flora so helpless!’ Then a splendid thought came into my mind—her +nieces! Flora is fond of her family and has often talked of your mother, and of +you, so I wrote off at once, and—here you are!” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy was about to speak, but he laid a heavy, restraining hand upon her arm +and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“There are just one or two little things I wish to say. Your aunt has a clever +ayah who knows what to do, and when she has her attacks I leave her alone—by +her own wish. Also, she doesn’t like to have her health noticed—though everyone +knows that she’s more or less an invalid. I believe, if her mind were diverted +and occupied she would be better.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a pretty good nurse,” began Sophy; “I’ve a Red Cross certificate and I +like nursing——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that is of no use,” he interrupted impatiently. “You must nurse her +<i>mind</i>; amuse her with cards, reading, games, music—that is your job. +Well, then there is the housekeeping; you will have to take the place of +Fernanda. She looked after the servants, the mending, the stores, and the +cooking—you shall step into <i>her</i> shoes. Of course, it will be an immense +responsibility for a young girl.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke he turned his head and looked at his <i>vis-à-vis</i> with a glance +which seemed to imply that he was endowing her with an empire. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I am aware that you English are slatternly, ignorant, and +extravagant managers,” he continued pleasantly, “but my excellent friend and +neighbour, Frau Wurm, has promised to take you in hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m afraid I could not undertake all this,” protested Sophy. “I know very +little of housekeeping in a large establishment. I can knit and sew, make +coffee and savouries, arrange flowers—and that’s about all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gott! Gott! Can you not make confitures and cakes and salads? Confiture I must +have with every meal—a nice saucer of cherries or raspberries or greengages, so +good with meat. Well, well, never mind, you shall soon learn. Frau Wurm will +teach you much. We no longer see company—just two or three men to dine and +smoke; your aunt has dropped her English circle. The English community changes, +and many of her old friends have gone away or died—and a good job, too! We live +in the German quarter and are surrounded by compatriots. You speak German, of +course?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—only French; German is so difficult.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tch! tch! tch! How lazy you English are! We all speak English. As for me, my +mother was English—you could not tell that I was not born an Englishman?” +</p> + +<p> +Apart from his appearance and guttural r’s, this claim was justified. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you made lots of friends on board ship?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a good many.” +</p> + +<p> +“Girls, I suppose—idle girls, who will come buzzing round to coax you to play +with them. That is all they are good for; but you will have your work, as I +have pointed out. If you are industrious, I shall lend you a horse that was +your aunt’s—he is not up to my weight—and I will take you to our fine club when +I can spare an afternoon. At present, I am immensely occupied, engaged in +collecting wolfram. Do you know what wolfram is?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have never heard of it,” humbly admitted Sophy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is ore used for hardening steel—extremely scarce and valuable; it +comes from Tavoy, but business connected with it takes me up and down the +river, and even as far as Calcutta and Singapore. Now, with you to look after +the house and your aunt, I shall feel so free and easy in my mind. Ah, here we +are; this is ‘Heidelberg,’” he said, as the car swung in between two tall gate +piers. +</p> + +<p> +“Heidelberg” was a good-sized residence, with spacious surroundings; palms, +bamboos and crotona abounded, and a wonderful collection of gigantic +cannas—red, yellow and orange—gave colour to the compound. A crowd of lazy +retainers, who were hanging about, gaped in silence upon the new arrival. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I’ll take you to your aunt at once,” said Krauss, descending heavily from +the car, but making no effort to assist his niece. Then he led the way +upstairs, striding along the veranda with a heavy, despotic tread, and through +a large, dim drawing-room, where Sophy caught an impression of much carved +furniture, the figure of a large alabaster Buddha gleaming through the shadows, +and a stifling atmosphere of dust and sandalwood. Pushing aside a tinkling +bamboo screen, they entered another apartment, which was yet gloomier and more +obscure, and here on a wide sofa, propped, among large, silk cushions, lay a +sick and wasted woman, who turned on Sophy a sallow face and a pair of drowsy, +dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is your new treasure, mein schatz,” announced her husband! “I brought her +straight up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear child,” she murmured, “this is one of my—my dreadful days; so +sorry—so sorry—so sorry,” and she slowly closed her eyes upon her pretty niece. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy stooped and lifted her hand (which was limp and clammy) to her lips, and +said to herself, as she did so, that poor Aunt Flora was woefully changed. She +recalled her as a beautiful vision, beautifully dressed, and so gay. Now her +face was yellow and withered, and she looked positively old and gaunt. +</p> + +<p> +All at once a buxom ayah advanced—-a stout, straight-backed Madrassi, with her +black hair in a chignon, a ring in her nose, jewelled rings in her ears, +wearing a handsome blue-and-gold saree, coquettishly draped round her ample +form, the usual short silk bodice, or <i>choli</i>, and numerous heavy bangles. +She salaamed to Sophy with both hands, and Sophy, who had never before beheld +such an apparition, gazed in admiring silence; the ayah’s carriage, her gait +and sheeny protuberance, recalled to mind a prosperous pouter pigeon. +</p> + +<p> +“My missis plenty sick to-day,” said Lily, “never seeing people—that no good; +to-morrow, she may be arl right, but <i>now</i> she must sleep, and I will take +the new missy to her room.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy’s room, which was large and, rather bare, overlooked the stables, +cook-house and servants’ quarters, and here she was introduced to her own +attendant Motee, a timid creature in white, who seemed to rise, as it were, out +of the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Motee is the best lady’s ayah in Rangoon,” explained Lily with an offhand air, +“she understands Miss Sahibs, she will pack and unpack, dress hair—and hold her +tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +After giving Motee some directions, unpacking her favourite hats and changing +her dress, Sophy went forth in order to explore her new home. The whole +establishment had a squalid, neglected appearance and sadly lacked the eye of +the mistress. The compound or garden, with its masses of gorgeous tropical +trees and plants, was overgrown and jungly, poultry wandered about at their own +sweet will, and even invaded the veranda—yet apparently there was no lack of +staff. On the contrary, from her bedroom window she had observed groups of men +talking and smoking, presumably servants, as several wore silver badges on +their turbans, and soiled white linen coats, and among these were some jovial +Burmans and one or two wide-trousered Chinamen. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt Fernanda, the treasure, had kept the house in working order, and now +that she had abdicated, her sceptre lay in the dust—in every sense of the word. +Was it her, Sophy’s, duty to raise it? She noticed quantities of litter and +cobwebs in the drawing-room, but there were no flowers or knick-knacks; the +silver teapot that appeared with tea at five o’clock was nearly black. It was +not a luxurious meal, a weak Chinese mixture, and a plate of fossilised +biscuits. +</p> + +<p> +The morning after her arrival Sophy was awakened by a soft tremulous touch on +her hand; she opened her eyes and beheld her aunt stooping over her. She was +clad in a shabby, splendidly embroidered red kimono, and appeared to have made +a temporary recovery. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Krauss offered her niece a warmly affectionate welcome and many caresses, +and then, sitting on the side of the bed, asked eager questions respecting her +mother and sister, their mutual relations, and all the family news; but made no +allusion to the state of her own health, or to the dirty and neglected +condition of her establishment. +</p> + +<p> +“So Karl met you himself,” she said, “although he is so busy; that was nice. He +has a kind heart and I do hope you will like one another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I hope we shall,” assented Sophy, but her conscience protested that this +hope was vain—already she disliked him. +</p> + +<p> +“He looks to you to step into Fernanda’s shoes; but of course I won’t have +that. Fernanda had enormous wages. Oh, dear child, I can’t tell you how I miss +her,” and tears stood in her dark eyes. “Karl has such odd, old-fashioned +German ideas—you must not mind him—though he is getting more German every day. +He says a woman is just a hausfrau, who must sew and cook and do whatever a man +orders. She is to have no mind of her own—and very little amusement.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Aunt Flora, one thing is certain—I shall never marry a German.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say it strikes you as strange that I should have done so; but Karl has +always been devoted to me. I suppose your mother has told you that, when I was +eighteen, I ran away to marry Charlie Bellamy, whose regiment was under orders +for Hong Kong; we were fearfully poor and fearfully happy; then in a dog-cart +accident, Charlie was killed and I was taken up for dead. But I recovered, as +you see. The Hong Kong people were angels to me—one’s own country folks always +<i>are</i>, when you are in trouble abroad. I was laid up for months. When I +was better, Karl came forward and implored me to marry him; I was almost +penniless and loathed the idea of going home, so that was how it happened. Karl +was wealthy in those days, but afterwards he lost his money—our fortunes go up +and down like a see-saw. I am afraid he is too fond of speculating and taking +huge risks; he likes to be a man or a mouse. Just now he is not a mouse, but +very, very rich. Well, my dear, I’ll leave you to have a bath and dress; we +shall meet at breakfast; it is many a day since I appeared there. Do you know I +feel as if you’d done me good already!” and with a clinging embrace she +departed. +</p> + +<p> +As hours and days wore on, Mrs. Krauss became more and more charmed with her +companion; it did not take her long to discover her unselfish character, +amazing adaptability to these strange surrounding’s and, above all, her gift of +music. The invalid would lie prone on her sofa with a handkerchief over her +face—rather suggesting the idea of a laid-out corpse—motionless and +spell-bound, and when she spoke it was merely to murmur: +</p> + +<p> +“Please go on, please go on, Sophy darling; your music is wonderful; you are my +David and I am gloomy Saul. Oh, my dearest child, your exquisite gift has given +me new thoughts, and opened the door of many delicious and half-forgotten +memories!” +</p> + +<p> +Besides soothing her aunt with dreamy and enthralling melodies, Sophy +remembered her “job,” and endeavoured to interest her in patience, in puzzles +and the latest stitch; but Frau Krauss had no taste for cards or puzzles. She +was, however, profoundly interested in Sophy’s pretty frocks, examined them, +priced them, and tried them on; otherwise she preferred to lounge among her +cushions and talk, whilst her niece, who busied herself mending table linen, +proved an invaluable listener. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a treasure, my sweet child,” she remarked; “I have so often longed for +a companion of my own class and nation. All my neighbours are German; here in +Kokine is a German colony; they all dine and have music, and gossip together, +and I am rather out of it. Of course, I speak German, but not very fluently. +There are two or three uncommonly smart women who speak English as well as you +do, and their children have English names; but all the same, they hate us in +their secret hearts and often give me a nasty scratch; so I needn’t tell you +that I don’t open my heart to <i>them</i>. The English live in another +direction—down the Halpin Road, or out by the Royal lakes, and I have really +grown too lazy and careless to go among them. Besides, what is the good? My +friends return to England, new people come, but as for poor me—I stay on for +ever.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, of course, you would like to go home, Aunt Flora, would you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“For some things, yes! But how can I leave Karl? Also, I feel that this country +has got such a hold upon me—oh, such a hold!” And she closed her eyes and +sighed profoundly. +</p> + +<p> +Three whole weeks had elapsed since Sophy arrived, and during that time she had +not been outside the compound. Herr Krauss had departed up country and taken +the car with him; in the meanwhile Sophy had contrived to carry out some +improvements, and induced her aunt to dismiss and replace several worthless +servants. There had been a grand cleaning, dusting, and polishing; the +drawing-room was rearranged, the compound cleared and tidied, flowers decorated +the sitting-rooms—and the hens had been interned. +</p> + +<p> +All this Sophy had not contrived to manage without assistance and advice; +several German ladies had been to call, to inspect, to offer instruction, and +to criticise. There was Mrs. Muller, a remarkably pretty, smart young woman +(wife of the head of an important firm, who spoke English perfectly, played +bridge and the violin). She and Sophy had an interesting musical talk, and +arranged about duets and practisings; it was she who helped with regard to +weeding out the staff, finding substitutes, and engaging a <i>dirzee</i> to +mend and make. Augusta Muller was a born administrator, and the head of the +neighbouring community. Another visitor was Frau Wendel, a dowdy middle-aged +woman, who wore a hideous check cotton gown (much too short), green spectacles, +and velvet boots; she stared hard at Sophy and asked her many personal +questions. There was also the Baroness—a little lady with small patrician +features, faded light hair and a brisk manner; and last, but by no means least, +Frau Wurm, who daily arrived to fulfil a promise to Herr Krauss, and every +morning, for one solid hour, imparted to Sophy instruction in the management of +native servants, the reckoning of bazaar accounts, the coinage—rupees and +pice—and the proper way to keep house linen and stores. She also gave her +lessons in cooking on the oil stove in the veranda—not invalid delicacies, but +dishes that were favourites with the master of the house, including confitures +and Russian salad. +</p> + +<p> +Frau Wurm was a competent teacher—practical and brisk. She drew up a list of +menus, of shops to be dealt at, and hours for different tasks. As she worked +she talked incessantly in excellent guttural English; her talk consisted of a +series of personal and impertinent questions—her curiosity was of the mean and +hungry class, and to every reply, satisfactory or otherwise, she invariably +ejaculated, “Ach so!” +</p> + +<p> +Among other matters she desired to know Sophy’s age—the age of her mother—and +sister; if their washing was given out; who had paid for her passage and +outfit; where her mother lived, the rent of her house, and number of servants. +</p> + +<p> +“So she keeps <i>three</i> servants!” she exclaimed. “Ach! but I thought she +was poor!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not poor,” replied Sophy. “Mother has a pretty good income.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach so! and that is the reason, I suppose, that you cannot cook or make your +own frocks, or do anything useful. Are you engaged to be married?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Sophy with a laugh, “not yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach so! I do not think your uncle will permit you to marry any of those silly +young English officers, who play games all day and are ashamed to wear uniform. +Have you any relations in the Army?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have two cousins; one in the Flying Corps and one in a submarine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach so! That is <i>most</i> interesting. Some day you will tell me all about +them, will you not? I like to hear about submarines.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Sophy, who was busy mixing a pudding according to an +elaborate German recipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are getting on,” admitted Frau Wurm patronisingly. “You will be a +good little housekeeper before I have finished with you. Tell me—how is your +aunt to-day?” she asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“She seems better, much better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, much better—better since yon came; you rouse her, though she doesn’t get +up now till eleven o’clock. She suffers from such a strange complaint—very +mysterious,” she added with a significant sniff. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think there is anything mysterious about neuralgia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, there is,” rejoined Frau Wurm, lowering her voice; “we often talk it +over and wonder. Long ago she was as others; now she is different, and seems +but half awake—always so jaded and feeble and vague. There was only one who +understood the case—that was Fernanda, and she has gone away, ach so!” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy found her present life unexpectedly strenuous. The mornings were devoted +to incessant house-keeping, writing lists, and making pickles and German +condiments; in the afternoons her aunt absorbed her time. She did not seem to +come to life till then. +</p> + +<p> +“I know I am selfish,” she confessed, as she looked through a number of +invitations and cards which had been left for Sophy. “I do so want to keep you +to myself; I don’t wish to share you with the Maitlands and Morgans and +Pomeroys; you have brought me a new lease of life. Of late I have felt like a +half-dead creature, without even the energy to open a book, much less to get up +and dress. I have the Burma head, and take <i>no</i> interest in anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do please take an interest in me, Aunt Flora,” said Sophy coaxingly, +putting her arm about her and smiling into her haggard eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, my dear; yes, I will—and at once. I shall take you out and amuse +you. No time like the present! To-day I shall telephone for a motor, get Lily +to look out my smartest clothes, and you and I will make a round of calls. You +know it is the duty of a new arrival to wait on the residents?” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“We will go in the afternoon, when they are all out, and so get through a +number. There are no end of sets here: the Government House, the civilian, +military, the legal, and above all the mercantile—they really <i>count</i>, +these merchant princes, being numerous, wealthy, and so generous and +charitable, and can snap their fingers at precedence. Then there is the German +set, to which I should belong—but I don’t. I tell Karl that my father was an +English General and I am English—a real Englander. We differ in so many ways +from these German women—in what we eat, like, and believe, and how we make our +beds, do our hair, and even how we knit!” +</p> + +<p> +Dressed for making a round of visits, Mrs. Krauss presented a different +appearance from that loglike invalid her niece had first beheld. She was a +picturesque, graceful woman, with a pair of heartrending dark eyes, while a +little touch of colour on her faded cheeks illuminated a face that still +exhibited the remains of a remarkable beauty. Mrs. Krauss, in a hired and +luxurious motor, made a rapid round of calls among the principal +mem-sahibs—who, as predicted, were not at home—and wrote her own and Sophy’s +name in Government House book. +</p> + +<p> +The last house they visited was “The Barn.” Mrs. Gregory received them and gave +Mrs. Krauss and her niece a genial welcome. She and Mrs. Krauss had known one +another for years, but had never been really intimate or close friends. Mrs. +Gregory was energetic, modern and vivacious; the other, a somewhat lethargic +beauty, was not interested in the burning questions of the day, and had long +ceased to take part in local gaieties; but her niece, as Milly said, was +charming, and Mrs. Gregory felt immediately inspired by a liking for this +pretty, graceful, unaffected girl. Sophy, for her part, was delighted with this +large, English-looking drawing-room, with chintz-covered furniture, quantities +of flowers, books, an open grand piano, and a pile of music. The hostess, too, +Mrs. Milward’s cousin, attracted her and made her feel at home. +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you think of Rangoon?” inquired Mrs. Gregory. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not ask her,” interposed Mrs. Krauss with a dramatic gesture, “she has +been with me for more than a fortnight, and this is the first time she has been +beyond Kokine. It is all my fault; she has had such a lot of housekeeping to +see to and take over, and she is such a delightful companion that I have not +been able to bear her out of my sight.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, dear Mrs. Krauss, we cannot allow you to appropriate Miss Leigh +altogether. I hope you will spare her to me now and then. Perhaps Miss Leigh +could come with me to the Gymkhana dance next week?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like it very much indeed,” said Sophy, glancing interrogatively at +her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if I cannot take her myself, I shall be glad if you will chaperon Sophy. +She has not had any amusement yet and one is young but once! And now we must +go; no thank you, we won’t wait for tea. I intend to rush the child round the +lakes—she has not seen them—and then do some shopping in the bazaar.” +</p> + +<p> +After the departure of her visitors, Mrs. Gregory stood in the veranda and +watched them as they sped away together—the dark faded beauty, the pretty, +fresh girl—and said to herself: +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV<br/> +THE CHUMMERY</h2> + +<p> +The chummery to which Douglas Shafto had been introduced was a rambling old +bungalow, and the edge of the Cantonment, sufficiently close to offices and +work. Although by no means modern, it boasted both electric light and fans, and +the rent was fairly moderate; the landlord, Ah Kin, a Chinaman, called for it +punctually on the first of every month, but closed his slits of eyes to various +necessary repairs. +</p> + +<p> +Among the three chums already established was Roscoe, a dark, well-set up man +of five or six and thirty, with a clean-shaven, eager face, artistic hands, and +a pair of clever eyes. Roscoe had been in turn a junior master, a journalist +and actor. Dissatisfied and unsatisfactory in these situations, his friends had +found him an opening where he would be at too great a distance to trouble +them—in short, a billet in a Burma oil company in Rangoon. Amazing to relate, +the post suited him and the rolling stone came to a standstill; well educated +and intellectual, endowed with a curious eye and a critical mind, he was +anxious to see, mark and learn the life of his present surroundings. Out of +business hours, Roscoe devoted himself to this task with such whole-souled +enthusiasm, that at times he actually imagined that he had his finger upon the +pulse of this strange, new world. The oldest and least prosperous of the +fraternity, his companions liked him and spoke of Roscoe as “a queer fish, but +a rare good sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Patrick Ormond FitzGerald, police officer, a genial native of County Cork, was +about thirty years of age, handsome, generous and hot-headed, who enjoyed every +kind of scrap and sport—including chasing dacoits and smugglers. He diffused an +atmosphere of good humour and confidence, was universally popular and +invariably in debt. Chum number three, James MacNab, hailed from “Bonnie +Scotland”—a spare, sandy, canny individual, who, far from being in debt, was +carefully amassing large savings. He had a pretty fiancée in Crieff, who sent +him weekly budgets and the <i>Scotsman</i>. He owned a sound, steady ambition, +and seldom made an unconsidered remark. “Mac” was an employé in the Irrawaddy +Flotilla Company, where he was rapidly rising, so to speak, to the surface. +</p> + +<p> +Each “chum” had a room to himself, but they took their meals together in a +wide, open veranda, and were catered for by a fat Madrassi butler, who did not +rob them unduly, seeing that his accounts had to be inspected and passed by +thrifty “Mac,” who ruthlessly eliminated all imaginative items. +</p> + +<p> +In their large compound their cook kept game fowl—long-legged fighting cocks +from Shanghai—and other poultry, including the curly feathered freaks of +Aracan. Here FitzGerald stabled his horses—a capital pair, trust an Irishman +for that!—and Roscoe, a stout elderly Shan, ironically nicknamed “Later On.” +MacNab rode a bicycle; a useful mount that required neither oats nor groom. +</p> + +<p> +The three chums soon made Shafto feel at ease and at home; they were lively +companions, too. Roscoe was a capital mimic, and kept his company in roars of +laughter. FitzGerald drew notable caricatures and could tell a story with the +best. “The MacNab,” who had a certain dry wit, took the stranger firmly in hand +with regard to finance—namely, the furnishing of his room and other +expenditure. +</p> + +<p> +“Bide a wee; go slow at first,” he advised. “Just hire a few sticks from +Whiteway and Laidlaw, and wait your chance for picking up bargains at +Balthasar’s auction rooms; anyway, you don’t want much. A bed, a couple of +chairs, table, washstand and tub. I have a chest of drawers I can let you have +cheap. In the rains the pictures fall out of their frames, the glue melts, rugs +are eaten by white ants in a few hours—and your boots grow mushrooms.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a cheerful look out!” exclaimed Shafto. “Well, I have nothing to tempt +the white ants.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto was adaptable and soon found his feet. At first his entire time and +energies were concentrated on his new job and learning an unaccustomed task; he +spent hours on the wharves along the Strand, or across the river at Dallah, +standing about in the glare, and dust and blazing sun, amongst struggling, +sweating coolies and swinging cranes. He had also to supervise his Eurasian +subordinates, see paddy shipped, and keep a sharp look out for their +delinquencies, such as receiving “palm oil,” or overlooking damages. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of his daily work Shafto was not insensible to his surroundings, +but, on the contrary, acutely alive to the strange bewildering glamour of the +East, where life dwells radiantly. He was interested in the ever-changing +shipping, the crowds of strange craft lying by the wharves or moored to buoys +in the great impetuous Irrawaddy, and the swarms of sampans darting in all +directions. Overhead was the hot blue sky, blazing upon a motley crowd, which +included the smiling faces of the idle, insouciant, gaily-clad Burmans—most +genial and most engaging of nations. +</p> + +<p> +Down by the <i>godowns</i>, where Shafto worked, the stir and press of +commercial life was tremendous; on every side roared and dashed trams, +motor-lorries, traction engines and—curious anachronism—long strings of +heavily-laden bullock carts. Here was trade from the ends and corners of the +earth; out of her abundance this rich country was shipping to the nations wood, +oil, rice, metals, cotton, tea, silken stuffs, ivory, jade, and precious +stones; masses of cargo lay piled on the wharves, amid which a multitude of +noisy coolies, busy as ants, went to and fro incessantly, whilst in the +distance the saw-mills screamed, the steam dredgers clanked, and tall factory +chimneys blackened the heavens. +</p> + +<p> +All this amazing restless activity seemed strangely out of its natural +perspective; the scene should have been laid in Liverpool or Glasgow, instead +of displaying a background of palms, tropical trees, gilded pagodas, and a +circle of gaily-dressed, idle natives. +</p> + +<p> +Although the British and German residents did not assimilate, Shafto saw a good +deal of their mercantile element. At ten o’clock every morning hundreds of +Teuton clerks poured into Rangoon from the surrounding neighbourhood, and he +could not but admire their indefatigable business activity, tireless industry, +and world-wide radius of action. Long, long after British firms had closed for +the day, and their employés had rushed off to amuse themselves at football, +golf, or boating, the German was still sticking to it and hard at work. But +there was another feature of which Shafto was aware and could not applaud; this +was the “spy” system. There were rumours of an active gang (manipulated from +Berlin), whose business it was to discover what English firms were doing in the +way of large contracts, and subsequently to enter into competition, cut out, +and undersell. It was said that their methods were both prompt and ruthless. It +was also hinted that one or two firms winked at contraband, offered +irresistible bribes, and made fabulous profits. +</p> + +<p> +The individual characteristics of his fellow-inmates were soon impressed upon +Shafto, and the interest they evinced in him—a mere stranger—was undeniably +agreeable to his <i>amour propre</i>. MacNab, who was sincerely concerned about +his financial affairs, instructed him in many clever economies, and the +localities of the cheapest shops; he was also emphatic on the subject of +cautious outlay—and full of warning against the horrors of “a rainy day.” +</p> + +<p> +FitzGerald, on the contrary, was eloquent in favour of “the best that was +going, and hang the expense!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll want two horses, my boy,” he announced, “if you’re going in for +paper-chasing and the gymkhana; you might chance on a bargain, too. I heard of +a fellow who got a wonder for three hundred rupees, an ugly ewe-necked brute, +but he carried off the Gold Cup and every blessed thing he was entered for. On +the other hand, such a windfall is a very outside chance; then you must have a +small car for the rains—I believe you would get a nice little Ford for six +hundred rupees.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto received this advice with a shout of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“A racer and a car on four hundred rupees a month! FitzGerald, you are raving +mad. If I followed your advice——” he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“You would soon be shunted out of Gregory’s,” supplemented MacNab, who, with +impassive face, was lolling in a long chair, a silent but attentive listener. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, don’t be minding that fellow!” protested FitzGerald. “Shure, he’d sell his +father’s gravestone, if he ever had the heart to put it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I pay my way, Fitz, and can walk down Phayre Street at my case, whilst +you——” he paused significantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, I own a few bills, I know—six hundred rupees a month goes no way +here, but it’ll be all right when my ship comes in; anyhow, I’ll have had a +good time—I’ll have <i>that</i> to look back upon when I’m an old fellow upon +the shelf. Now you,” suddenly turning to stare at MacNab, “never spend a rupee; +you wouldn’t take a taxi to save your life, never go to a cinema or a concert, +nothing that costs money; you just bicycle and drink lemon squashes and write +home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you want to ride in taxis and go to cinemas, you might as well be in +London,” put in Roscoe, who had joined them. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to the Lord I was!” declared FitzGerald; “standing at the corner of +Piccadilly Circus this blessed minute, and making up my mind whether to go to +the Criterion grill or to Prince’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“But as you happen to be in Rangoon, and <i>not</i> Piccadilly Circus, why +don’t you open your eyes and see the place, and enjoy it?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Enjoy</i>!” repeated FitzGerald with a dramatic gesture; “see it? I see a +deal too much of it; while you fellows are snoozing in bed, I’m turning out +filthy liquor shops, drug stores, tea houses, and stopping Chinese fights, +smuggling and murder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we know all that,” rejoined Roscoe; “you look into the dark, Shafto and I +see the bright side of this country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you’re a bright pair, and here, I’m off!” exclaimed the police +officer, as he suddenly caught sight of a mounted orderly and thundered down +the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Roscoe was neither economical, nor yet extravagant; he patronised the theatres +and shows, made expeditions into the country on “Later On,” read many books, +and occasionally took a trip up the river in a cargo boat. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto and Roscoe had one taste in common—a craving to see, know, understand +and, as it were, get under the skin of this wonderful land. An impossible +achievement! From the first they had been drawn together; they were searching +in an eager way for the same object; they had both been at a public school and +once, when Shafto dropped a word about Sandhurst, Roscoe said: +</p> + +<p> +“I was intended for the Army, but I couldn’t pass the doctor—rather a facer +after scraping through the exam.; when that was knocked on the head, I got a +post as assistant-master, but I couldn’t stick it for more than a couple of +years; after that, I was in a newspaper office; then I got badly stage-struck +and went on the boards. Unfortunately, I was not a success; I never could do +the love parts—I neither bellowed nor whined; at last my people got fairly sick +of me, I was so often ‘resting,’ and they made a combined effort and hustled me +out here into the oil business, and here I am in my element.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t say you look particularly oily,” observed his companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps not, but I dare say to lots of young fellows I seem a dry old +stick—anyhow, I <i>was</i> a stick in ‘the Profession.’” +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally Roscoe invited Shafto to accompany him of an evening, and +introduced him to strange and wonderful sights—wrestling, cock-fighting, puppet +<i>pwes</i>, or plays in the Burmese character. These were acted by little +figures wonderfully manipulated by strings behind the scenes; the holder of the +string also supplied any amount of dialogue (not always of the most decorous +description), and also all the latest and coarsest jokes from the bazaar. To +the Europeans these entertainments offered scanty amusement, but to natives +they proved enthralling. An audience would sit spell-bound and motionless for a +whole night, soothed and cheered by the strains of the Burmese band—that unique +and original collection of sounds and instruments. +</p> + +<p> +“In former days,” explained Roscoe, as he and his companion sat staring at the +bedizened actors and shrill little figures on a long, low stage, “these plays +took place in the open air, on a <i>midan</i>; all the world was welcome, and +as there was no charge, naturally all the world was present! They were usually +given by some rich Burman, or widow, in honour of some offering or anniversary. +An uncle of mine was quartered here years ago, and I remember him saying that +he suffered sorely from these <i>pwes</i>; one play lasted for three +consecutive days and nights—the Burmese brought their bedding. The great +<i>midan</i> outside his bungalow was a seething mass of people; whose families +were encamped—the place resembled a huge fair. Some were bartering, gambling, +or eating horrible-looking refreshment, and altogether thoroughly enjoying +themselves; rows and rows squatted motionless on the ground in front of the +stage; of course, sleep, with such a fiendish commotion, was out of the +question, and so my uncle was obliged to get up and wander about among the +masses until daybreak; he said he never could make head or tail of the play, +but one of his brother officers loved it; he engaged an interpreter and +squatted for hours in front of the stage, enjoying what he considered ‘a +priceless treat.’” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto, like Roscoe’s uncle, failed to appreciate <i>pwes</i>, which were now +held within stated bounds; he preferred out-of-door entertainments, as the +heat, the smoke, the smell of raw plantain skins, the band, and the jabber were +too much for him. +</p> + +<p> +Roscoe, his cicerone, had contrived to learn a little of the difficult Burmese +language, and knew the town to a certain extent—including something of the vast +underworld, and even FitzGerald admitted that “old man Roscoe” could tell a +thing or two, if he liked. +</p> + +<p> +Before he had been long in Rangoon Shafto had also a glimpse into its depths. +One night, returning from a “sing-song,” as he reached the bottom of the outer +stairs, he was startled by a voice from the pitch dark space beneath the +house—a voice which said in a husky whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Joe? Joe, for God’s sake stop and give me a couple of rupees.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not Roscoe,” said Shafto, striking a match; “who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +The flickering and uncertain light discovered a gaunt and unshaven European in +the shabbiest of clothes. +</p> + +<p> +“Roscoe’s out; what do you want?” he brusquely demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“Only a couple of rupees,” was the hoarse reply. “I’m ashamed for you to see +me; I’m down and under, as you may guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drink?” suggested Shafto, lighting another match. +</p> + +<p> +“No; drugs—two devils: cocaine and morphia.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, that’s bad; can’t you take a pull at yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Too late now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing’s too late,” declared Shafto; “believe that and buck up. Well, here +are four rupees for you.” +</p> + +<p> +As he put them into a shaking hand the match went out, and the loafer +noiselessly melted away into the soft and impenetrable darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning Shafto informed Roscoe of this strange encounter. +</p> + +<p> +“Such a water-logged derelict was never seen! One of your underworld friends, I +take it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Worse than that,” rejoined Roscoe; “he’s my own first cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +In reply to Shafto’s exclamation he added: “His father was the officer I told +you about, who was so terribly worried by the plays. This chap was erratic, but +a clever fellow and great at languages; he passed into the Woods and Forests +out here, and enjoyed the wild jungle life for a good many years; now you see +what he is—a wild man of the bazaars.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I say, Roscoe; can you do nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely nothing; a cocaine case is hopeless. Opium you might tackle; the +other is beyond the power of man or woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how does the fellow live?” +</p> + +<p> +“God knows!” replied Roscoe. “Most of these chaps keep body and soul together +by stealing; there’s a lot of smuggling going on in Burma, and I shouldn’t be +the least surprised if my cousin Richard had a hand in that!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br/> +MR. AND MRS. ABEL SALTER</h2> + +<p> +Shafto had been six weeks in Rangoon and, thanks to his chums, was beginning to +feel completely at home—as is sometimes the case with adaptable young people in +a strange and fascinating country. +</p> + +<p> +His neighbours, the Salters, who were hospitable and friendly, had lent him a +hand to find his bearings. Occasionally, of an evening, he and Roscoe would +stroll over there after dinner, and sit in the deep veranda discussing many +matters with the master of the house. Roscoe and Salter were more nearly of an +age, and mutually interested in subjects that to Shafto seemed deadly dull and +obscure. He liked to hear about sport, the country, and the Burmese; to all +such topics he was an eager and ready listener, but when philosophy and +sociology were on the tapis he would join Mrs. Salter indoors, to discuss the +paddy crop, inspect her great rice bins, and argue over prices and sales; or he +would listen to blood-curdling tales about <i>nats</i>, or house spirits, +related by his hostess in animated, broken English, and with appropriate +gesticulations. Mee Lay had a high opinion of the young man, and this was +shared by her daughter, for “Shaft,” as she called him, helped her to fly her +kite, mended broken toys and brought her chocolates such as her soul loved. +</p> + +<p> +During one of their prowling expeditions Roscoe had imparted the life-history +of Salter to his chum. Salter’s forbears were Yorkshire folk—thrifty, +self-respecting, stiff-backed Nonconformists. His father and grandfather +belonged to what is called “the old school,” when parents ruled their families +with an iron rod, and the meek, down-trodden children accepted punishment +without question. Salter’s grandmother had dismissed grown-up sons from table +and kept a rebellious daughter for weeks incarcerated in her room. Salter’s +father had inherited her stern, Spartan spirit; he gave his heir a first-class +education in the neighbourhood of London and, when he was twenty, recalled him +to Bradford, there to take his place in the works and live at home. But Salter, +junior, having tasted the delights of liberty, found home life unspeakably +irksome; the laws against drink, dancing, smoking and the theatre were +Draconic. He hated the long chapel service on Sunday, the endless hymns and +emotional exhortations; the day concluding with family worship, which lasted +three-quarters of an hour. The young fellow dreaded the Sabbath and rebelled +against his gloomy, comfortable, middle-class home, where he had no +individuality, no rights—and no latch-key! At last he broke loose—the flesh and +blood of twenty-two years old revolted. At twelve o’clock one night he found +himself locked out and, as the first bold peal of the bell elicited no reply, +he never again applied for admittance, but with four pounds in his pockets and +a good saleable watch, launched his little skiff upon the great, wide world. +</p> + +<p> +Behold him now comfortably established in a foreign land, occupying a +responsible position in a well-known firm, the husband of a clever, thrifty +woman, who was actively engaged in building up his fortune. After an interval +of some years, the Salters at home discovered that their prodigal had +undoubtedly killed and thriven on his own fatted calf. The usual little bird +had informed them that “Abel was much thought of and prosperous; had a grand +home in Rangoon, dozens of servants, and was married.” Friendly letters were +dispatched—for “Nothing succeeds like success”—and a brisk correspondence +ensued. Information and photographs were promptly exchanged, and the family +received a nicely-finished presentment of Rosetta in her smartest and shortest +frock. They were much impressed by the grandchild born to them in Burma, and +she was immediately installed in a handsome silver frame, introduced to all +their neighbours and to most of their chapel friends. +</p> + +<p> +But what would have been the sensation of these worthy people if they had +received a portrait of Mee Lay in full festival costume—flowers in hair and +white cheroot in hand! +</p> + +<p> +On the subject of Mrs. Abel Salter there was but scanty information; her old +maid sisters-in-law were given to understand that she sent them her best +good-wishes—she also forwarded silks and jars of Burmese condiments, but her +husband declared that she was very lazy about letter-writing and +constitutionally shy. Her maiden name, they were told, had been Mary Lee, and +this information had sufficed. +</p> + +<p> +Besides having the entrée to the Salters’ domestic circle, Shafto had been +elected a member of the Gymkhana Club, where he made various new +acquaintances—and these increased in number as his prowess in tennis and +cricket became evident; then, with the advice—and, indeed, almost under the +compulsion—of FitzGerald, he purchased a smart stud-bred mare, certainly no +longer in her first youth, but sound, clever and full of “go.” She was not +called upon to shine on a race-course, but carried her master admirably in +Station paper-chases on Thursday afternoons. +</p> + +<p> +By the MacNab this investment was looked upon with a dubious and unfavourable +eye, although he was aware that the price of “Moonshine” had come out of a +small nest-egg which her owner had brought from home. He pointed out the +enormous price of gram, or English oats, and he earnestly entreated Shafto “not +to be led into follies by other people” (meaning FitzGerald), “but to keep his +head and go slow.” +</p> + +<p> +During this month of November Shafto had frequently come across his +fellow-passengers in the <i>Blankshire</i>; even Lady Puffle had acknowledged +his existence with a bow; not once had he beheld the desire of his eyes—Miss +Leigh. She appeared to have vanished as completely as a summer mist and, it was +whispered, had been swallowed up and submerged by the German colony. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Krauss had vouchsafed no notice of his visit and card; her niece was never +to be seen either at the Gymkhana, or on the lakes—the principal meeting-places +for young and old. More than once he imagined that he had caught sight of her +in the cathedral at evening service, but she looked so different in smart +Sunday clothes—a feathered hat and gauzy gown—that he might have been mistaken, +and he heard from MacNab (the gossip of the chummery) that Krauss had brought +forward a remarkably pretty niece, who had recently played in a concert at the +German Club, and made a sensational success. +</p> + +<p> +When Shafto rode in the mornings, he eyed expectantly every passing or +approaching habit, but Sophy Leigh was never among the early cavalcade—for the +excellent reason that she had no horse. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory, in spite of multifarious occupations as the firm’s vice-reine, +had by no means forgotten pretty Miss Leigh, nor her cousin’s emphatic +instructions; the girl had failed to accompany her to the Gymkhana dance—“her +aunt was ill; she had been unable to leave her”—a stereotyped excuse to every +invitation. The truth was that Mrs. Krauss, after two or three social efforts, +culminating in a large dinner-party to her German neighbours, had collapsed +with one of her worst attacks, and between nursing her relative and +housekeeping for Herr Krauss (who was shamelessly greedy and exacting), Sophy +had not a moment to spare, and the Madras boy turned away all callers—including +Miss Leigh’s friends—with his mechanical parrot cry, “Missis can’t see!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br/> +AT THE PLAY</h2> + +<p> +Theatrical performances are the chief entertainment in Burma; the Burmese as a +nation delight in plays—operatic, tragic, opera bouffe and ballets, such as the +“Han Pwe,” when a number of young girls, all dressed as royalties, posture and +dance with extreme grace; and as their training is perfect, the entertainment +evokes unqualified applause. So interested and absorbed do the audience become +in long drawn-out dramatic performances, with interludes of dancing and +singing, that they will bring their bedding, and not merely remain all night +but several nights—according as the play may hold them! As a rule, the +background is a palace, and the plot concerns the love story of a prince and +princess, which is interrupted by all manner of vicissitudes—some grotesque, +others of genuine pathos; to these the accompaniment of soft, wailing Burmese +music is admirably adapted. +</p> + +<p> +Po Sine, the greatest actor in Burma—an Eastern “star”—had recently returned to +Rangoon from a prolonged tour, and his admirers, who numbered thousands, were +all agog to see and welcome him. +</p> + +<p> +The principal theatre was established in a large space at the back of the Great +Pagoda, trustfully open to the soft blue night, otherwise strictly encompassed +with matting; for in these changed and money-making days, there was an official +box-office at the entrance and no admittance without cash payment! The stage +was only raised a foot or two from the ground, and a long row of little lamps +threw a becoming red light upon the scene. Here many rows of chairs were +arranged for the use of Europeans, whilst the Easterns sat upon the ground on +mats and folded themselves up in easy native fashion. +</p> + +<p> +On the first night of Po Sine’s reappearance, the arena was packed to the +utmost limit of the matting. In the front were assembled many European +residents, who were treated to bunches of flowers, paper fans, cheroots and +lemonade; also, in a reserved space and on gorgeous rugs, reclined a number of +splendidly attired and bejewelled Burmese ladies—princesses of the Royal house, +a sprightly and animated group; their flashing diamond combs and long diamond +chains made a feature amid the audience. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory had brought a small party, which included Mena Pomeroy, Robin +Close—one of the assistants—and Douglas Shafto, who had never yet seen the +famous Po Sine. Somehow Miss Pomeroy and Mr. Close had contrived to get +separated from their chaperon, but Shafto still stuck faithfully to his +hostess. +</p> + +<p> +A puppet play represented the curtain-raiser, and as this, to Shafto, was no +novelty, he stared about him at the masses of shining black heads; men with +jaunty silk handkerchiefs twisted round their brows, women with their wreaths +and golden combs—an undeniably smart audience—all smoking. The stage was open +to the dark blue sky, which was sprinkled with stars. Right above them clanged +a temple gong; from far down the river came the hoot of a steamer’s syren, and +during intervals the soft humming of the wind among the labyrinth of shrines—a +complete contrast in every respect was this Eastern scene to the last play he +had witnessed in a London theatre! +</p> + +<p> +All at once there was an influx of people surging in—crafty folk who knew how +to avoid the curtain-raiser. These included a number of Germans. Among the +party in the train of Mrs. Muller, and attended by Herr Bernhard, was Miss +Leigh in a dainty white frock and flower-trimmed hat, but somehow looking a +little bit out of the picture. Her chaperon, magnificent in a Viennese toilet, +unexpectedly encountered friends who had recently arrived from the Fatherland; +these she hailed with boisterous jubilation, and as she chattered and +gesticulated, listened and interrupted, she entirely forgot her charge; in +fact, she moved on, still talking, and abandoned her, so to speak, to her fate. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy’s fate, luckily for her, happened to be Mrs. Gregory, who signed to +Shafto to rescue the young lady and conduct her to a place under her own wing. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you?” he said, accosting her eagerly. “Mrs. Gregory has sent me to ask +if you won’t sit by her? There is lots of room.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should love to, but you see I am here officially with Mrs. Muller. I’ll go +and speak to her, but I think she has filled my seat.” +</p> + +<p> +A hasty word to the chaperon, who had entirely forgotten her existence, +released Sophy and, as she joined Mrs. Gregory, Frau Muller said with a shrug: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, she is rather pretty in her way. She has got among those odious +English—let her stay with them!” +</p> + +<p> +(Then she threw herself once more into the interesting topic of the latest +scandal in Frankfort.) +</p> + +<p> +“I am so pleased to see you,” said Mrs. Gregory, making room for Sophy beside +her; “what has become of you all these weeks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have been in Kokine and quite safe,” she answered, but her smile was not +so ready and whole-hearted as it had been on board ship. “Aunt Flora caught a +chill and has been laid up. Poor dear, she is a martyr to neuralgia.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know she is subject to it, but surely she does not require you to be with +her <i>all</i> day?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but Herr Krauss is at home now; the old cook has departed after a fearful +explosion, and housekeeping is a struggle; servants are so difficult to find +and deal with, especially by a strange ‘missy’ like myself. And Herr Krauss is +particular about punctuality and the plates being hot, and all that sort of +thing; I have to make Russian salads, confitures and sauces, so I have really +had no spare time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I can imagine your hands have been pretty full. But do you mean to tell +me that <i>you</i> run the house?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t exactly run it, but I do my best to drag it along—and it’s rather +awkward from my being a new-comer; pice and rupees are novelties, and +everything is supposed to be in German fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +“German fashion!” echoed Shafto. “What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, particular hours, particular food, <i>Blutwurst</i>, sausages, Russian +salads, cakes, creams, and plenty of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I must say Krauss looks sleek and well fed; he does you credit! But +don’t you ever get your Sunday off or your day out?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I do in a way. I have been to dine with one or two of our +neighbours, and we had some really first-rate music; and then, you see, we live +at a long distance from the Cantonment and the Gymkhana.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what about the car?” +</p> + +<p> +“Herr Krauss uses it; he is away most of the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you have a horse to ride?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, there was one; rather a nice-looking little bay, but soon after I +arrived, he was borrowed by a man who has taken it up to Prome.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory had been listening to this conversation, making mental notes and +setting down bad marks! Her cousin was returning from Mandalay on the following +day, and she determined that she and Milly would wait upon Mrs. Krauss, and +request her to liberate this prisoner. Mrs. Krauss was a charming, indolent, +clinging sort of individual, who had latterly sunken into a somnolent existence +and rarely appeared above the social surface. Formerly she had been a brilliant +figure in Rangoon society, gave excellent dinners, danced, rode and played +bridge and tennis; but, by degrees, she seemed to have dropped out of things, +and Mrs. Gregory remembered how, once upon a time, when riding together, she +had lamented that she had no children and no particular interests, and that her +energy, such as it was, was ebbing rapidly. Of course, she had been too long in +Lower Burma—eight years of Lower Burma, merely diluted with an occasional few +weeks at May Myo, was enough to undermine any woman’s mental and bodily state. +</p> + +<p> +“And so your aunt has been ill?” she asked after a long pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but she is much better now and very cheerful, so I was able to leave her +and accept Mrs. Muller’s invitation to accompany her to this play.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have seen nothing so far?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, not much, but there is lots of time.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory glanced at the girl and, in the searching electric light, noticed +that her lovely colour was already fading, the lines of the face seemed a +trifle sharper; beauty is fleeting in Lower Burma. Meanwhile Shafto, sitting so +silent at the ladies’ feet, was secretly boiling with rage. +</p> + +<p> +So the fat old German, in spite of his wealth, had made his wife’s niece both +sick nurse and house-keeper; one of these tasks was ample for any girl; Miss +Leigh had been six weeks in Rangoon and had never even seen the Pagoda! +</p> + +<p> +“I know you are fond of riding,” he began; “do you think you could come for a +gallop if I produced a pony?” +</p> + +<p> +“And a chaperon,” supplemented Mrs. Gregory. “I can offer my services and a +mount, and I’ll call for you at seven o’clock on Thursday morning. You may +come, too,” she added, turning to Shafto, “and we will go to the Pineapple +Forest.” +</p> + +<p> +“How delightful, and how very kind of you!” said Sophy. “I am sure I can +manage—as long as I am in by nine o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why nine o’clock, my dear Cinderella?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I have to interview the cook when he returns from the bazaar. Herr +Krauss is something of a gourmand and rather querulous about his food, and he +often brings in one or two men to tiffin or dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“A nice, amusing change,” said Shafto. “You must find old Krauss a bit +monotonous. What does he talk about? Wolfram or sausages?” +</p> + +<p> +“He talks a good deal about my aunt—he really is devoted to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll mark him up one for that. I suppose the guests are his own +compatriots?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they come on business, and are nearly always the same. They talk German +all the time, which I cannot understand—only when they stare at me and say +something about ‘Engländerin’; after dinner we have music and Herr Krauss and I +play duets. His instrument is the violin—most of the neighbours are musical, +first-rate musicians and so critical; I appreciate that—it keeps me up to the +mark.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think, among them, they all keep you up to the mark,” observed Mrs. Gregory, +and whatever she was about to add was abruptly interrupted by a loud, swelling, +unanimous murmur of “Ah Wah, Ah Wah,” which suddenly rose from a thousand +throats. This rapturous acclamation hailed the appearance of Po Sine, the star +of the Burmese theatre—unsurpassed and unapproachable in either tragedy or +comedy. Po Sine was nothing to look at—a thin, ordinary, little man, but +endowed with genius; even those who could not understand a word he said +immediately recognised the great actor. +</p> + +<p> +This particular play was a favourite comedy; shouts of laughter shook the +audience and the encompassing walls of matting, and in this Shafto and his +companion could not help joining. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what it is all about,” said Sophy. “I know it’s very amusing. What +was that funny thing he said last?” she asked as the shrieks died down. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto coloured guiltily. Although far from being an expert in the Burmese +language, he had caught the drift of this sentence—a coarse <i>double +entendre</i>, which he could not possibly interpret to a girl. Burmese plays +are not always decorous; this particular performance was an odd mixture of +ancient and modern. The lovers, who were, as usual, princes and princesses, +played stately roles and moved about with majestic dignity and in gorgeous +raiment—their prototypes dated from the days of Buddha; on the other hand, the +clown and the country men, who enacted the parts of villains and devils, were +essentially modern—as quick with patter songs and up-to-date local events and +jokes as the cleverest music-hall artist. At intervals the weird Burmese band, +with its clashing cymbals, harps and clarions, discoursed the latest Burmese +operatic airs. +</p> + +<p> +It was one o’clock and the great bell in the heart of the Pagoda had throbbed +out its long deep note, when Mrs. Gregory rose and collected her party. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so sorry I can’t take you with me,” she said to Sophy. “I hope your German +friends will not remain all night. However, I shall depute Mr. Shafto to look +after you. Please tell your aunt that I hope to call and see her very +shortly—and do not forget that you are to ride with me on Thursday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +As if it was likely! Then Mrs. Gregory took her departure, leaving Sophy and +her companion to a <i>tête-à-tête</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we will move up closer to your friends,” he said; “I see two empty +seats behind them. Our people can’t stick this for more than three or four +hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“How have you been getting on?” inquired Sophy, “and how do you like Burma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Burma suits me down to the ground; I like it most awfully. I’ve been very busy +learning my job, but I’ve seen a good deal outside business hours.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you seen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, wrestling, tattooing and cock-fights; I have been once up the river +as far as Prome, and to several native shows, including a funeral.” +</p> + +<p> +“How have you managed that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Salter, a fellow in our house, took me; the funeral was a strange affair—not a +bit like ours; everyone in gala clothes, great feasting and a band in the +house; altogether a lively entertainment. When a man is dying, his friends come +and gather round and cheer him, and tell him of all the good deeds he has done +in his lifetime. At the graveside there is an extraordinary business with a +silk handkerchief, in which the nearest relation is supposed to catch and +enclose the departed spirit, now in the form of a white butterfly—and dangerous +to mortals for seven days and nights. I have seen a good deal of native life +already.” +</p> + +<p> +“How lucky you are!” exclaimed the girl; “and I’ve seen nothing but Germans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Salter has taken me about and naturally he has extra opportunities, being +married to a Burmese.” +</p> + +<p> +“Married to a Burmese?” echoed Sophy; her tone was incredulous. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. At one time it was quite a common thing. Mrs. Salter—her real name is Mee +Lay—is sitting over there in about the fifth row back, behind the fellow with +the scarlet handkerchief twisted round his head. Presently you must turn and +look at her. She is a nice, cheery woman, and Salter is an interesting, +original sort of man. I dine with them now and then. Mee Lay is uncommonly +businesslike—has a good deal of land and a flourishing rice concern.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has? How amazing!” +</p> + +<p> +“I see you don’t know much of Burma yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; so far I am only acquainted with the bazaar prices, the gorgeous flowers, +delicious fruit and futurist insects!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, women do most of the business and do it well; the men are a lazy, +loafing lot; very genial and sporting, fond of cock-fighting and +gambling—absolutely regardless of expense or debt. Mrs. Salter is rich; if you +will look round now you will see her—the little woman with the yellow fan and +diamond comb; notice her blazing ear-rings; and yet I have seen the same lady +with her petticoats kilted high, standing knee-deep in a rice cart and diving +with both hands into the grain to test its quality!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a very pretty girl with flowers in her hair, beside her,” remarked +Sophy; “look, she is nodding to you. Who is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her name is Ma Chit; she is Mrs. Salter’s cousin. Sometimes she drops in when +I am there; the Salters live close to my chummery. I have a munshi now and I am +learning Burmese.” +</p> + +<p> +“And—and I am learning German!” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you hit it off with your uncle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t call him my uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am answered.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy laughed and coloured brilliantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose so. We do not coalesce; our ideas, age and country are different; he +is hard as a rock, brusque and overbearing—but amazingly clever and energetic. +He seems to hold so many threads in his hands, to deal with such numbers of +people; his correspondence is enormous; his office, when he is at home, is +surrounded and stormed by all sorts of people—Mohammedans, Chinese, Burmese, +all waiting on his good pleasure and his nod. I scarcely see anything of him +except at meals, and then he is too much taken up with eating to have time to +spare for conversation; but we meet in one spot—music-land! He plays the +violin; we do Beethoven together and are great friends; then when the piano +closes——” she paused. +</p> + +<p> +“You are enemies?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly enemies, but I do hate the way he gobbles his food and bullies the +servants; and then he says such rude things about England—perhaps it’s only +done on purpose to make me angry? He declares we are a wretched, rotten, +played-out old country, going down the hill as hard as we can fly. He is +narrow-minded, too; so arrogant—the Germans can do no wrong, the English can +never do right. I am telling dreadful tales, am I not? All the same, he has an +English wife, and is simply devoted to Aunt Flora; nothing is too good for her. +It is really funny to see this rough overbearing man so gentle and thoughtful. +But then, she is a dear!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, is she?” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see for yourself. You must come to tea on Sunday. I am sure I may +invite you; Aunt Flora is so kind and sympathetic, and has a look of mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come all right, if you think she’ll not be <i>durwaza bund</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she is ever so much better, but the last few years has been more or less +an invalid.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is her particular illness? Is it fever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fever and neuralgia. Some days she will lie in a darkened room and see no one +but her ayah; she won’t even admit me, though occasionally I do slip in; she +has had a bad attack lately, but is now convalescent. Oh, I see Mrs. Muller +moving at last; now we shall be going.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’ve found this show a hit dull.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all—it has been a most interesting sight; I don’t know when I have +enjoyed myself so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“So have I; it has been a——” +</p> + +<p> +Whatever Shafto was about to add was interrupted by Mrs. Muller, who pounced on +his companion with a laughing apology, and handed her over to the charge of +Herr Bernhard. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. Milward called at “Heidelberg,” and on the +veranda encountered Sophy, who was hurrying out to keep an appointment to +practise duets with Frau Muller. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so dreadfully sorry,” she said, when the first greetings were over, “but I +must go; I’ll get back as soon as ever I can. Aunt Flora is at home.” +</p> + +<p> +But when Sophy returned the visitors had already departed, leaving their +hostess a good deal disturbed. Indeed, Mrs. Krauss’s languid spirits had been +violently shaken. Mrs. Milward had remarked on Sophy’s changed appearance, and +her tone had been hostile. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very plain that Burma does not suit her,” she said. “I could not believe +that any girl would have altered in so short a time; I shall write to her +mother at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear Mrs. Milward, what do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think anyone could <i>see</i> what I mean,” rejoined the lady, who +was very angry and had heard the tale of Sophy’s heavy cares. +</p> + +<p> +“The girl looks ill. I have known Sophy for years—known her since she was a +small child—and I can assure you that she has never been accustomed to a +strenuous indoor employment, to getting no exercise or relaxation—or ever +meeting people of her own age.” +</p> + +<p> +Her hostess was struck dumb; her torpid conscience suddenly awoke and condemned +her; Mrs. Milward, who was immediately leaving Rangoon and had no fear of +retaliation, continued with ruthless animosity: +</p> + +<p> +“It is true what you say—that your niece has been a wonderful comfort to +<i>you</i>, but will it be a comfort to her mother when she hears that she is +merely a hard-worked lady-help? I think it would be well to arrange that she +should return home with <i>me</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +Tears now trembled in the culprit’s dark eyes, and she fumbled for her +handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mrs. Milward,” she said piteously, “I do see what you mean. I have been +ill and stupid; my husband has always spoiled me, and thinks that other people +are only brought into the world to wait upon <i>me</i>. I realise my +selfishness now. Yes, you are right, the child looks pale and no longer flits +about the house singing her little songs. I beg you will not alarm my sister; I +will undertake that things are altered and you may depend upon me, dear Mrs. +Milward; you have made me feel horribly guilty. I know I am a self-centred +invalid, but I intend to mend my ways.” And tears, no longer to be restrained, +trickled down the worn, cadaverous face of Mrs. Krauss. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br/> +THE CHINESE SHOP</h2> + +<p> +The solemn promise Mrs. Krauss had made to Mrs. Milward was honourably +redeemed, and a new and agreeable vista opened before Sophy Leigh. Her aunt +roused herself, as it were, from a long sleep; the little bay horse was +recalled from Prome; a Rolls-Royce was purchased (Herr Krauss signed the cheque +without a murmur); a highly-recommended Portuguese butler was engaged to +undertake the heavier forms of housekeeping; and Mrs. Krauss once more +re-entered society—figuratively leading by the hand a lovely niece, of whom she +was unaffectedly proud and who, she imparted to her friends, “had given her a +new interest in life.” +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto, she declared, she had felt like a flower that was withering for the +lack of sun; now Sophy supplied the sunshine. Sophy was endowed with a +personality that inspired happiness, and looked on the world as the abode of +joy. And so at last pretty Miss Leigh tasted the delights of the Gymkhana Club, +and took part in tennis, golf and dancing. There were boating parties on the +Royal lakes and picnics in the woods. She made many acquaintances and had quite +“a waiting list” of partners. Sometimes of a morning, but much more frequently +of an evening, after tennis or boating, Mrs. Krauss would drive down to Phayre +Street. There the shops were on the best European lines, and exhibited all the +latest articles from London, Paris, or Berlin, tempting rupees out of people’s +pockets. Mrs. Krauss was a liberal purchaser, whether of European stores, fancy +goods, drapery, or jewellery; this generous aunt presented Sophy with a pair of +heavy gold bangles, a string of pearls and an exquisite fan and kimono. These +latter were found at an Indian repository owned by a well-known Bengali, with a +large clientèle (Burmese themselves are too indolent to make successful +shopkeepers—they much prefer to look on, and laugh, and bargain). In this and +other emporiums of the same class were to be found rare embroideries, ivory +carvings, eggshell china, Oriental draperies, jade, and piles of Chinese and +Japanese silks of the most exquisite fabric and colour. Sophy liked to wander +round, to marvel and admire, but soon discovered that to do the latter was to +be immediately endowed with her fancy—be it an enormous Chinese jar, or a +lacquered cabinet, or a mere silver bowl. Mrs. Krauss firmly resisted every +denial and excuse. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” she would protest, “do not refuse me; mine is the pleasure. I don’t +know how to spend all my money, and never until now have I had a girl to whom I +could offer presents—and to <i>give</i> is such a joy. I am a rich woman, with +no belongings except you and yours. Certainly, I don’t deny that this big gong” +(the present in question) “is rather a clumsy affair, but it is old and a +beauty. What a deep, rich, melancholy tone! When struck it seems to tell of +some sad, sad story that happened hundreds of years ago. After you are married, +dear child, it will be so useful in your hall.” +</p> + +<p> +On these excursions there was one little shop that was never neglected or +overlooked; this was situated in a narrow slum, a long way from the great +artery of traffic and fashion. After negotiating various tortuous windings and +encountering horrible gusts of stale <i>napie</i> and the ever-odorous +<i>dorian</i>, the car halted at a certain corner, and Mrs. Krauss and her +companion made their way into a narrow ill-lit lane, and entered a mean den +kept by a fat, crafty-looking Chinaman and his lean, pock-marked son. There +was, as far as Sophy could discern, nothing whatever to interest or attract +upon the premises. The stock was ordinary and scanty; a few coarse china +tea-sets, some teapots in cane baskets, paper fans, lacquer trays and odds and +ends of the cheapest rubbish; but Mrs. Krauss solemnly assured her niece that +“it was the <i>only</i> place in Rangoon for the real guaranteed netsukes,” of +which she was making a collection. +</p> + +<p> +A Japanese netsuke is an elaborately-carved ivory button of various shapes and +sizes—no two are alike; they take the form of men or animals and, as a rule, +are executed with amazing delicacy, and, if signed and old, are of considerable +value. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Krauss, who spoke a little Chinese—and was proud of her +accomplishment—appeared to know the fat proprietor rather well, and together +they would retire into a dim inner recess, illumined by an oil lamp hanging +before an altar, and there examine, bargain and gloat over treasures. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Sophy, who remained in the outer shop, was offered a seat and tea, +without milk or sugar, in what resembled a doll’s cup; by her aunt’s express +desire she always accepted this refreshment, although she found the decoction +unspeakably nasty; it seemed to taste of an evil odour. Sometimes Mrs. Krauss +would linger for fifteen minutes, sometimes for longer, talking over netsukes +and Hong Kong with Ah Shee. The atmosphere of the place was overpowering; such +a stifling reek of a mysterious effluvium, the combination of joss sticks, +stale fish, rancid oil, and a sickly taint like the fetid breath of some mortal +sickness; it made Sophy feel faint and, after a short interval, she invariably +made her way into the street, where the air—though by no means fresh—was an +improvement on that within the shop. +</p> + +<p> +The street was narrow and squalid and the houses were dilapidated—even for a +native quarter; passers-by had a slinking stealthy gait, and cast glances of +surprise and suspicion at the young lady who lingered outside the premises of +Ah Shee. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, as she waited thus, in the warm, damp dusk, FitzGerald in uniform +clattered by; he caught sight of Sophy out of what is called “the tail of the +eye,” and pulled up so suddenly as to throw his horse upon its haunches. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Leigh!” he exclaimed. “Yes, it is! May I ask why you find yourself among +the Seven Dials, or devils, of Rangoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Aunt Flora comes to Ah Shee’s shop hunting for ivories; she is collecting +netsukes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Netsukes!” he repeated; “netsukes <i>here</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, and such good ones—the best in Burma; but it’s a horrible place, and +as to the odours!” and she made a gesture expressive of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, by Jove, the Chinese beat all the world in stinks; but I say, Miss Leigh, +try to persuade your aunt to hunt elsewhere for ivories—this part of the world +is unhealthy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not surprised at that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be advised by me and make <i>this</i> your last visit to this chinky shop. +Well, I must be shoving on,” and he trotted away. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later Mrs. Krauss emerged and, by the quivering eye of an electric +lamp, Sophy noticed that she looked strangely animated—indeed almost radiant. +No doubt she had secured some wonderful prize. +</p> + +<p> +“Who were you talking to, my dear?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. FitzGerald; he was so surprised to see me and says we ought not to come +here—the place is unhealthy and, indeed, Aunt Flora, I wonder you can stand the +reek of Ah Shee’s den for so long without feeling horribly sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mr. FitzGerald—the police-officer? Yes, he is right; it is a low +neighbourhood and the air is poisonous, but I’ve managed to get what I wanted,” +and she held up a pocket handkerchief bulging with ivories. “I won’t have to +come again for ages and ages.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Ah Shee and son had shuffled off to summon the chauffeur, and the car +now appeared round the corner of the street, looking like some crouching black +monster, with round, fiery eyes. Attended by the two obsequious Chinamen, Mrs. +Krauss and her niece entered the motor and were speedily borne away. For a +considerable time the former did not open her lips, but lay back in her corner +in an attitude of contented lassitude. +</p> + +<p> +They made their way homewards through the teeming bazaar and brilliantly +illuminated Phayre Street, with its brave show of shops, offering a +kaleidoscopic review of jewellery, glittering silver, cut glass and brass work, +or masses of rich, many-coloured stuffs and silks, each shop with a special +circle of admirers. +</p> + +<p> +It was the hour when offices disgorge their employés, when idlers come to +lounge and stare, and between foot-passengers, trams, taxis and carts, the +thoroughfare was almost impassable. During a block Mrs. Krauss suddenly roused +from her condition of happy contemplation, and said, as she opened her +handkerchief: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Sophy, I’ve got <i>such</i> treasures—such finds; real, old netsukes, +signed, and <i>so</i> cheap! Do look at this delicious rabbit!” holding out a +beautiful model. “Is it not too perfect, exquisitely carved, and smooth with +age? And the tortoise with the little tiny one on its back—what a darling!” and +she took it up and kissed it with rapture. +</p> + +<p> +It puzzled Sophy to witness this extraordinary enthusiasm and then to recall +the cold fact that, on her return to “Heidelberg,” her aunt’s interest in these +ivories seemed to wane and disappear. Was there not a bowl of specimens in the +drawing-room already consigned to oblivion and dust? Aunt Flora’s character +exhibited an amazing combination of fantastic caprice and invincible good +nature. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br/> +CHAFF</h2> + +<p> +It was Thursday, the Station holiday. A capital paper-chase had recently +engaged the entire community; the pace had been unusually severe; the obstacles +large and formidable—especially the notorious Log Jump—and casualties were not +a few. Shafto and FitzGerald, on hot and heaving horses, had only halted for a +moment at the hospitable “Finish,” where refreshments were being served, as +care for their precious steeds was taking them and their animals home. After an +unusually long silence FitzGerald exclaimed, apropos of nothing in particular: +</p> + +<p> +“So—sits the wind in that quarter?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto turned his head and met a pair of knowing Irish eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“That quarter!” repeated FitzGerald, indicating the red-tiled roof of the +Krausses’ bungalow, where it peeped out from amid a solid mass of palms and +bamboos. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the remotest idea what you are driving at,” said Shafto impatiently. +“Is it a bit of dialogue in the play you are rehearsing?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, me boy, that is fiction—this is fact! In my official capacity I am bound +to take notes, and within the last week I have twice met you early of a morning +riding with Miss Leigh—no third party visible to the naked eye. In fact, you +were there before the rest of the crowd—and, of course, the early bird gets the +worm!” +</p> + +<p> +“And which is the worm—Miss Leigh or I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, you may try to laugh it off, but there’s some reason for these early +<i>tête-à-têtes</i>. The reason is as plain as the stick in my hand—no, I beg +its pardon, the reason is uncommonly pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +“FitzGerald, you are talking most blatant bosh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I am and maybe I’m not, and, let me tell you, you’re not the only string +to the lady’s bow; she has as many as a harp! There’s Fotheringay, the A.D.C.; +there’s Captain Howe; there’s Bernhard——” +</p> + +<p> +“Bernhard’s a beast,” burst out Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally <i>you</i> would think so—it’s only human nature. But Otto is a +handsome man and has a fine seductive voice; and mind you, music has charms to +soothe the breast, savage or otherwise; as for your prospects, you may apply to +me for a testimonial of character: steady, sober——” +</p> + +<p> +“There, Fitz, that’s enough—drop it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop it!” repeated FitzGerald with a laugh. “Don’t get your frills out, old +boy, I mean no harm; she is by a long way the prettiest girl in the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” exclaimed Shafto impatiently; “leave the ladies alone, or, if +you must discuss them, what about the little American Miss Bliss? You danced +with her half the night at the last Cinderella.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! now I suppose you think you’re carrying the war into the enemy’s quarter, +don’t ye? Dancing is not compromising—like solitary rides with a girl before +the world is warm, and Miss Bliss, by name and nature, is the only girl in +Rangoon who can do a decent turkey trot. Now, as to Miss Leigh——” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, for goodness’ sake leave Miss Leigh alone and talk about something +else—talk about horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Talk about horses,” repeated FitzGerald in a teasing voice, “and if he isn’t +blushing up to his ears! I’ll tell you what, young Shafto, it’s a treat to see +a real blush in this part of the world; blushing is rare in Burma, and I’d just +like to have your coloured photograph,” continued FitzGerald, whose methods of +chaff were as rude and crude as those of any schoolboy. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, don’t let’s have any more of this, Fitz, or you and I will quarrel.” +</p> + +<p> +FitzGerald grinned from ear to ear, delighted at the rise he had taken out of +his companion, touched his cap, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“All right, yer honour,” but to himself he added, “by Jingo, it’s +<i>serious</i>! Well, well! However, he’s as poor as a rat and that’s a great +comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +Comfort was constituted by the fact that, in these circumstances, there could +be no immediate prospect of a break-up of the congenial chummery. +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Mr. Shafto, on your high horse, if you promise not to trail your +coat and frighten me, I’ll tell you something that will interest you. I know +you have been poking round with Roscoe and diving into queer places—are you as +keen as ever?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am, of course,” rejoined Shafto, still stiff and unappeased. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I can show you a quarter where Roscoe has never dared to stick his +nose—a cocaine den.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not really? Surely you couldn’t take me in there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can so, as one of my subordinates; I am looking for evidence in a murder +case; I’ll lend you a coat, and all you will have to do is to look wise and +hold your tongue.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is most awfully good of you,” exclaimed Shafto, “and I needn’t tell you +I’ll go like a shot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m good now, am I?” jeered FitzGerald; “but, joking apart, this will be +an experience. Not like puppet plays and dances—but a black tragedy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose so; I know it’s pretty awful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cocaine smuggling is playing the very devil with the country and there’s no +denying that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But can’t you do something to stop it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it stop it? You might just as well try to stop the Irrawaddy with a +pitchfork. And it’s growing worse; there are some big people in it—the Hidden +Hand Company—who keep out of sight, pay the money, employ the tools and collar +the swag. They have agents all over this province, as well as India, China and +the Straits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does the stuff come from?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s chiefly manufactured in Germany, though some comes from England.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, you don’t mean that! I always thought it was concocted out here.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis little ye know! It is mostly sent in from Hamburg, and in all manner of +clever ways; the smugglers are as cute as foxes and up to every mortal dodge. A +lot of the contraband is done by native crews, of course without the knowledge +of the ships’ officers. Hydrochloride of cocaine travels in strong paper +envelopes between fragile goods, or in larger quantities in false bottoms of +boxes, under plates in the engine room, or in the bulkheads.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how can they possibly land the stuff?” inquired Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Easier than you think! There are lots of nice, lonely, sequestered coves, +where goods can be put ashore of a dark night, or dropped carefully overboard, +hermetically sealed, with an empty tin canister as a float, and picked up at +daybreak by a friendly sampan. Of course, the customs house officers have to be +reckoned with from the moment a ship enters till she leaves the port, but +sometimes in this drowsy climate a man falls asleep in his long chair, and here +is the <i>serang’s</i> chance—the <i>serang</i> being the head and leader of +the crew. The contraband is quickly lowered in gunny bags to the sampans and +carried off in triumph to its destination. However, not long ago, the customs +made a haul of twelve hundred ounces; out here cocaine sells for six pounds an +ounce. So that was a nice little loss, and yet only a drop in the ocean—for +every grain that is seized a pound enters the market. Oh, I’d make my fortune +if I could run one of these foxes to earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you could,” said Shafto; “have you no clue, no suspicions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hundreds of suspicions, but no clue. There’s a fellow in a sampan who +unnecessarily hoists a white umbrella—I have my best eye on him; and there is +said to be a broken-down, past-mending motor-launch in a creek beyond +Kemmendine, which I propose, when I have a chance, to overhaul on the quiet. +Chinese steamers plying between Japan and Rangoon run stacks of contraband; as +soon as one method of landing is discovered they find another; their ingenuity +is really interesting to watch. The chief smugglers are never caught—only their +satellites, who get about four months’ gaol and never blow the gaff. If they +did I wouldn’t give much for their lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to tell me that their employers wouldn’t stick at murder?” cried +Shafto aghast. +</p> + +<p> +“They stick at nothing; a murder done second-hand is quite cheap and easy—just +a stab with a <i>dah</i>, or long knife, and the body flung into the Irrawaddy; +you know the pace of that racing current and how it tells no tales! Well, here +we are! You see, for once I can discourse of other things than horses; and, +talking of horses, these fellows had better have a bran-mash apiece; but once +you get me on cocaine smuggling, I warn you I can jaw till my mouth’s as dry as +a lime-kiln.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX<br/> +THE PONGYE</h2> + +<p> +Late one warm afternoon in January, when Shafto was unusually busy on the +Pagoda wharf—consignments of paddy were coming in thick and fast—suddenly, +above the din of steam winches and donkey engines, there arose a great +shouting, and he beheld an immense cloud of white dust rolling rapidly in his +direction. +</p> + +<p> +“Look out, it’s a runaway!” roared a neighbouring worker. “By George, they’ll +all be in the river!” +</p> + +<p> +Sure enough, there came a rattle-trap hack <i>gharry</i> at the heels of a pair +of galloping ponies. The reins were broken, a yelling soldier sat helpless on +the driver’s seat and several of his comrades were inside the rocking vehicle. +The animals, maddened with fear, were making straight for the Irrawaddy and, as +Shafto rushed forward with outstretched arms to head them off, they swerved +violently, came into resounding contact with a huge crane, and upset the +<i>gharry</i> with a shattering crash. Several men ran to the struggling +ponies; Shafto and another to the overturned <i>gharry</i> and hauled out two +privates; number one, helplessly intoxicated; number two, not quite so +helpless; the third person to emerge was, to Shafto’s speechless amazement, no +less a personage than a shaven priest—a full-grown <i>pongye</i> in his yellow +robe! He looked considerably dazed and a good deal cut about with broken glass. +Waving away assistance, he tottered over and sat down behind a huge pile of +rice stacks. Shafto immediately followed to inquire how he could help him, but +before he had uttered a word, the <i>pongye</i>, who was much out of breath, +gasped: +</p> + +<p> +“Bedad! that was a near shave!” +</p> + +<p> +Could Shafto believe his ears? +</p> + +<p> +“Whist! now, and don’t let on!” he continued, staunching a cut with a corner of +his yellow robe—which he presently exchanged for Shafto’s handkerchief—“the +fright knocked it out of me!” +</p> + +<p> +“So you’re not a Burman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Faix, I am not; I’m a native of Cork and was born in Madras, and only for yer +honour we’d all be floating down the Irrawaddy this blessed minute.” +</p> + +<p> +His honour found it impossible to articulate; he merely stood and gaped. The +Irish <i>pongye</i>, born in Cork and Madras, was a tall, gaunt, middle-aged +man, with high cheek-bones, a closely-shorn head, and horn spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Might I ask yer name, sorr?” he inquired at last, “and where ye live?” +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Shafto; I live in a chummery at the corner of Sandwith Road.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, an’ well I know it an’ its old compound. They say it’s full of +<i>nats</i>, because of a murder as was done there. My name is Mung Baw, at yer +service, and I’ll not forget what ye did for me this day, and I’ll call round. +Blessed hour! where’s my begging-bowl?” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Shafto had discovered and restored his <i>patta</i>, the +<i>pongye</i> arose, gave himself a shake and, without another word, stalked +away, a tall, erect, unspeakably majestic figure. +</p> + +<p> +When Shafto met Roscoe he lost no time in recounting his extraordinary +adventure, and added triumphantly: +</p> + +<p> +“So you see, Joe Roscoe, you are not the only man here who makes a strange +acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not surprised,” he rejoined; “I’ve heard more than once of these white +<i>pongyes</i>. I dare say the chap will be as good as his word and will look +you up; I foresee an interesting interview.” +</p> + +<p> +In about three weeks Roscoe’s prediction was verified. Returning home late one +evening Shafto was struck by the unusually impressive appearance and gestures +of the fat Madrassi butler who, beckoning him aside with an air of alarming +mystery, informed him that “someone was in his room waiting to see his honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“In my room,” he repeated indignantly. “Why the mischief did you put him in +there? Couldn’t he sit in the veranda, like other people?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, saar, he refused; he would not.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto flung open the door of his apartment with a gesture of annoyance and, to +his profound amazement, discovered the <i>pongye</i> seated in easy comfort +upon his bed. He was surrounded by an odd medicinal aromatic atmosphere, his +sandals, begging-bowl and umbrella were carefully disposed beside him and he +appeared to be thoroughly at home. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I’d give ye a call, sorr, before I went up country. I’m off to +Mandalay to-morrow on a pilgrimage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, are you?” said Shafto, taking a seat and feeling at a complete loss what +he was to say and how he was to handle this novel situation. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” resumed the <i>pongye</i>, “that I’d like to offer ye an +explanation of the way I happened to be in that ’ere accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” assented his host; “I suppose this,” pointing to his yellow gown with +his stick, “is a fancy dress, for, of course, you are not a real +<i>pongye</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Troth, I am so,” he rejoined with indignant emphasis; “I’ve been properly +initiated—I know Burmese and the Pali language, and can intone a chant with +anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, you’re an Irishman and your speech bewrayeth you. I wonder you +are not kicked out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it kick me out? No fear! For besides being well respected and well liked, +I’m a magician.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come, that’s all rot!” exclaimed Shafto impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis not,” he rejoined in a vigorously defensive tone; “and ’tis little ye +know. This is a queer country; the people are terribly superstitious and weak +in themselves, on account of <i>nats</i> and bad spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that I can believe,” replied Shafto; “your pals in the <i>gharry</i> could +tell you something about bad spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait now and I’ll explain,” said the <i>pongye</i>, with an intimate gesture +of his great bony hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes I’ve a sort of ache to be mixing up with European soldiers—even if +it’s only for a couple of hours.” After a pause he added in a thoughtful tone, +“For ye see I was wance a soldier meself.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the pure truth I’m tellin’ ye—a corporal, with two good-conduct stripes; +the other week Paddy Nolan had drink taken, and nothin’ would please him but +that he must drive, so he turned off the <i>garriwan</i> and made a cruel bad +hand of it—as you saw for yourself! They were a couple of raw new ponies, come +down out of last drove, and unused to trams and motors, and frightened dancing +mad; only for you heading them off, we were all as dead as mutton.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you get into the Burmese priesthood?” inquired Shafto with abrupt +irrelevance. +</p> + +<p> +“It was like this, sorr, I’m country-born; me father was a sergeant in the +Irish Rifles, me mother was a half-caste—an Anglo-Indian from Ceylon—so I’m +half Irish, quarter Cingalese. I was left an orphan when I was seven years old +and educated at the Lawrence Asylum. I always had a wonderful twist for +languages; it came as easy as breathing to me to talk Tamil or Telugu. Well, +when I was close on eighteen I enlisted and put in seven years with the +Colours, mostly in Bengal; then we come over here and lay in Mandalay and, +after a bit, I—somehow got lost.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is, you deserted,” sternly amended Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, have it whatever way ye like, sorr. I was shootin’ in the jungles and +was took terribly bad with fever and nearly died. The natives are good-natured, +kind, soft people—none better; they took me in and nursed me, and one of the +<i>pongyes</i> doctored me. You see, I was entirely out of touch with +Europeans, and when I got cured was just a walking skeleton. Some thief had +made away with my boots and breeches, so I stopped among the natives and never +laid eyes on a white face for two years. I soon picked up the Burmese lingo, +which some say is difficult; but to me it was aisy as kiss me hand. Then I was +received into the priesthood; that was over seven years ago, and here I am +still. Of course, as ye know, I can go or stay as I please; but I stick to the +yellow robe as if it was me skin. Still and all, I won’t deny that the sight of +a soldier draws me, and that,” he concluded modestly, “is my only wakeness.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, you don’t mean to tell me that you are a <i>real</i> Buddhist?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course I am; what else would I be? The religion is pure and good and +friendly; the other priests know that I’m from India—and that’s enough for +<i>them</i>. In this country no questions is asked—and that’s what makes livin’ +so nice and aisy. And, sure, aren’t we Buddhists all over the world? Our +doctrines are wise and ancient; we pray and keep fasts and live to ourselves, +and there’s little differ, in my mind, between us and the Catholic religion—in +which I was born and reared. Haven’t we the mass, and vespers, and beads, and +monasteries, and Lent,—all complate?” +</p> + +<p> +“So then you’re a celibate—a monk?” +</p> + +<p> +“And to be shure I am; ye don’t think I look like a nun, do ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“A water drinker?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sorr, I’m tell ye no lie—not altogether; I am not a teetotaller all out, +I’m a sober man, and I mostly drink cocoanut water and tea. It’s a fine, free +life, I can tell ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine and idle, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not more idle than the rest of them; it’s true that I don’t teach, and, of +course, it’s only the young fellows that do the sweeping, water-carrying and +filtering, and the work at the <i>kyoung</i>. I see a heap of the country and +have many friends, who give me small presents, and smokes and food; I have a +far better time—a thousand times a better time—than sweating in route marches +and carrying round Orderly books in Rangoon or Calcutta; and many’s the quare +tale I could tell ye—tales about animals and elephant dances and big snakes, +ay, and spirit tales that would open your eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if it’s any comfort to know it, you’ve opened my eyes about as wide as +they will go. What is your real name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Michael Ryan. Me father came from Cork—a real fine country for fighting men, +and I understand that, once upon a time, my ancestors had a great kingdom +beyond the Shannon. Well, sorr,” now beginning to unfold himself and rise from +the bed, “I thought I’d just drop in and explain matters a bit before I go up +country.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was very thoughtful of you, Mung Baw.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be back in a while, and I needn’t tell ye, Mr. Shafto, that as long as I +draw breath I’ll never forget how I’m beholden to ye. I’m vowed to poverty, of +course, but I’m a rover and go about a lot, and some day I may be able to put a +good thing in your way, and I can tell ye one thing—ye have a lucky face!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad to hear it; and now, before you depart, will you tell me something +else? How do you contrive to get so much liberty—careering round the town with +Tommies and coming to look me up? It’s past seven o’clock—and I understand your +Roll Call is at six.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” assented the <i>pongye</i>, “but there are exceptions, and I’m +one of them,” suddenly sliding off the bed and drawing himself up to his full +height—about six feet two. “I don’t enjoy very good health being, as ye +understand, no native of the country; so I’m allowed a certain margin and +liberty. Well now, I’ll be takin’ leave of ye; but before I go, I want you to +accept something I brought you—just a small trifle of a talisman.” +</p> + +<p> +And from some mysterious receptacle he produced a good-sized dark stone, about +the size of a pigeon’s egg. “Now, whatever ye do, put this carefully away and +keep it safe and secure.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto took it in his hand, examined the gift and murmured his thanks. +</p> + +<p> +“No harm of any sort can come next or nigh ye,” continued the <i>pongye</i>, +“as long as that stone’s in your possession—and that’s as shure as me name’s +Mung Baw.” +</p> + +<p> +And hastily collecting his umbrella and bowl, before Shafto could realise the +intended move the stranger was gone. Nothing remained of his visit but the +curious aromatic odour and the so-called “talisman.” The stone was round, dark +and by no means beautiful, and at first Shafto was inclined to throw it into +the compound, but, on second thoughts, he thrust it into his dispatch box and +locked it away. +</p> + +<p> +“Evil spirits, a magician, a talisman,” he said to himself. “I suppose the poor +fellow was discharged from the Service as a hopeless lunatic.” +</p> + +<p> +Having arrived at this conclusion, Shafto changed his clothes and went to +dinner in the veranda, where he was well chaffed about his recent visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Been stealing something up at the Pagoda and they sent a <i>Bo</i> after you,” +suggested FitzGerald; “I must say your new friend is a rum-looking customer; a +powerful, strapping <i>pongye</i>. He’d make a grand constable! What did he +want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he merely came to pay a visit of ceremony,” replied Shafto. “He was in a +<i>gharry</i> accident a few weeks ago, and I happened to come to his rescue +and pick up the pieces; he called to express his thanks and drop a P.P.C.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br/> +THE COCAINE DEN</h2> + +<p> +“To-night’s the night,” said FitzGerald to his confederate. “You and I will +creep out in half an hour’s time, and no questions asked. Roscoe has gone up to +Tonghoo about oil; the MacNab is dining at the Pegu Club with one of his Big +Pots and talking Flotilla and finance.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, I’ll be ready in two jiffs—you won’t forget the coat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not likely! We will taxi down to the end of Dalhousie Street, and into the +bazaar about half-past nine o’clock, and then proceed on foot. I am taking two +constables—both armed.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a gay and busy scene; Dalhousie Street—which, it is said, never +sleeps—was a blaze of light, humming with noise and excitement and packed with +crowds of pleasure-seekers; a crude mixture of races, struggling and pushing to +their different goals of entertainment. +</p> + +<p> +As the two young men halted for a moment at a popular corner, it seemed as if +the whole town and bazaar flowed past in a wave of colour and movement. +Burmans’ and Shans, male and female, clothed in coloured silk and satin, the +women decked with flowers and jewellery, all smoking and jabbering in their +strange monosyllabic tongue; solid, well-set-up Germans parading in couples; +rollicking sailors; Chinamen; Malays in great numbers; stately Sikhs and the +inevitable Babu filled the scene. +</p> + +<p> +“They are all out to-night,” observed FitzGerald, “lots of shows on; well, now +for <i>ours</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke he turned into a narrow street that led through an endless maze of +curves and angles and, followed by two stalwart Sikh police, they made their +way into the heart of the China bazaar and plunged into the worst slum quarter +of this crowded, cosmopolitan city—a city, at least, in wealth, extent, +population and importance. They passed flaring joss-houses, gambling dens and +brazenly naked haunts of vice, and after picking their steps through a +particularly noisome gully—odorous of <i>napie</i> and rotten vegetables—they +arrived at an innocent little door in a high blank wall. After some whispered +parley with an old Chinaman, the pair were admitted and ushered into a large, +low saloon, where scores of gamblers were engrossed in the hypnotic pleasures +of “Fan Tan,” or the “36 animal lottery,” so popular and so simple! +</p> + +<p> +The adjoining room was a well-appointed opium resort. Here the roar of the +bazaar and pulsing of tom-toms were blurred and almost inaudible. A reek of +<i>bhang</i> and <i>betel</i> hung in the air; there were rows of neat bunks, +lacquered pillows, and small trays containing the opium pipe, lamp and other +necessaries. Everything was apparently carried out decently and in order; the +clients were of a respectable, well-to-do class—some who had merely dropped in +for a pipe of <i>chandu</i>, or a jolt of opium; and Shafto noticed quite a +number of Europeans and, among them, at present asleep, a man whom he knew and +frequently met on the Strand. He had sometimes wondered at his dried-up, +withered skin and lank, dead-looking black hair. <i>Now</i> he understood. +</p> + +<p> +The police officer was not disposed to linger on these premises. A cocaine den +was his goal, and after a short talk with an affable old Chinaman, who spoke +perfect English, he took leave and once more they were threading the odorous +gloom of the slums. They soon came to a halt and, leaving the two constables +outside, after the usual delay and mystery, were admitted and entered a most +evil-smelling den. This was lighted by two or three smoky oil-lamps, the rank +smell of which, with the sickly reek of squalid humanity, struck them like a +blow in the face. Between forty and fifty victims appeared to be present, all +belonging to the poorer classes, and nothing could be more repulsive than their +appearance. Excessive emaciation and festering sores were their most marked +characteristics. Some were lying on their mats in semi-stupor, several who had +just received an injection were patiently awaiting their dreadful sleep—one of +the chief attributes of cocaine is its almost immediate effect. Here was a +group squatting round a man armed with a syringe—fatal germ-carrier—busily +engaged in mixing the cocaine and morphia. When the concoction had been +prepared, one of the customers turned up his sleeve to discover—if he could—a +spot in which to insert the needle; but there was not a place, even the size of +a pin’s head, so he rolled up his <i>lungyi</i> and searched for a site on his +thigh; then the needle was produced, its contents were pumped in, and the man +made room for the next victim. This performance held Shafto with a sort of +hideous fascination; the crowd appeared to be entirely insensible to his +presence and only alive to the enjoyment awaiting them. +</p> + +<p> +At the far end of the room was an iron-bound enclosure, behind which sat a wily +and inscrutable Chinaman who, having received a formal notice that this visit +was “safe and unofficial,” obligingly exhibited his scales and small packets of +drugs—wares to bring rich delights to the narcotised—which he disposed of in +infinitesimal quantities, at from four to six annas a dose. +</p> + +<p> +Sprawling about on filthy rush mats were numerous Chinese, Burmese and Indians; +also a few women of the lowest class, each and all sunken in the various stages +of an ecstatic slumber. +</p> + +<p> +As FitzGerald was now engaged in whispered conference with a pock-marked Malay +(who was awaiting his turn), Shafto stood back against the wall, a completely +detached figure, acutely sensible of the chill horror of this unknown +sphere—the so-called “underworld.” +</p> + +<p> +He noticed that one or two customers sat round covetously watching the +operation of the syringe—not having the money with which to indulge themselves; +he also observed several who appeared to be in the last stage of their +existence—thin to emaciation, mere wrecks, like half-dead flies, scarcely able +to crawl about the floor. +</p> + +<p> +Quite in the shadow, he caught sight of a tall figure in European clothes, who +was, like himself, an impassive spectator, and, with a start, he recognised +Roscoe’s cousin. To-night he appeared cleaner and more human; he had shaved +recently, and there was an undeniable family likeness between him and his +relative—such a resemblance as may exist between a dead and broken branch and +one still flourishing upon a healthy tree. On this occasion he was evidently +not ashamed to be seen and recognised, for he nodded to Shafto, then crossed +the room and joined him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, so you’ve not taken a pull at yourself yet?” said Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“No, the cocaine debauchee has no power to resist the drug,” he replied in a +thin refined voice. “I am fairly normal to-night; it is not a case of virtuous +repentance, but merely because I have no money.” +</p> + +<p> +As he made this statement the despairing eyes that looked into Shafto’s were +those of some famishing animal. +</p> + +<p> +“You have the power to raise me from the pit,” he continued in a husky voice; +“you can lift me straight into heaven!” +</p> + +<p> +“Only temporarily,” brusquely rejoined Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Even that is something when it offers peace and satisfaction to the restless +human heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely you can free yourself and your restless heart? Why not walk out of +this filthy den with us? Roscoe will help you, so will I. Come, be a man!” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be impossible for me to regain the normal balance of life,” declared +the victim of the drug; “also, I am no longer a man—I am a fanatical worshipper +of cocaine, and only death can part us. Some day soon I shall fall out of her +train, the police will find me in the gutter and take the debased body to the +mortuary, whence, unclaimed and unknown, it will be carried to a pauper’s +grave.” +</p> + +<p> +“But can nothing be done to stop this hellish business?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” replied the victim with emphasis, “nothing whatever, until sales are +rendered impossible and the big men—the real smugglers who are trading in the +life-blood of their brothers—are reached and scotched. As for myself, I am past +praying for; but thousands of others could and ought to be saved—by drastic +measures and a stern exposure. The fellows in this business are as cunning as +the devil; the stuff arrives by roundabout channels and from the most +surprising quarters. Now and then they allow a consignment to be seized, but as +a mere blind, a sop, and trade flourishes; there is no business to touch it in +the money-making line.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and met Shafto’s searching eyes, then went on: +</p> + +<p> +“It must amaze you to hear a fellow in this sink talking plain grammatical +English, but before the cocaine fiend caught and tortured me I had brains. Joe +Roscoe is a good chap—he has often held out a helping hand, but it was not a +bit of use, I only sank deeper. When I recall the things I have done, the +meannesses I have stooped to, I squirm and squirm and <i>squirm</i>! Well, I am +nearly at the end of my tether, and a hair of the dog that bit me is all I ask. +Your friend FitzGerald here, now looking up evidence from that rascally Malay, +is working his very best to find some clue to the headquarters of the gang; but +they are much too clever and are making their thousands and tens of thousands; +profits are enormous, and the servants of the company are well paid for any +risks or prosecutions.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what about informers?” asked Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as for betraying secrets or giving the game away, the employés know +exactly what to expect. More than one would-be witness has disappeared; his +epitaph is, ‘Found drowned.’ Ah, I see FitzGerald moving, and so you must take +your departure out of this inferno into the clean upper-world.” +</p> + +<p> +“You come along with us,” said Shafto, suddenly seizing him by the arm. +</p> + +<p> +But Roscoe threw him off with astonishing force and shook his head +emphatically. Nevertheless he followed the pair to the entrance—a tall +wraith-like form moving behind them, a shadow in the shadows. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the door had closed and the visitors were once more in the street, +the police officer broke out: +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my word, Shafto, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Didn’t I see you +slip money into the hand of that broken-down Englishman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you did,” Douglas boldly admitted; “I was obliged to, right or wrong. If +you had only seen his eyes, his starving, despairing eyes! I believe they will +haunt me as long as I live; somehow I feel to-night as if I had looked through +the gates of hell!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br/> +THE APPROACHING DREAD</h2> + +<p> +The cold weather was waning in the month of March, women and children were +flocking to cooler climes than Lower Burma—chiefly to May Myo, north-east of +Mandalay. Once a stockaded village, it was now a fair-sized and attractive +station, with a garrison, a club, many comfortable bungalows, an overflowing +abundance of flowers and fruit, and in its neighbourhood beautiful moss-green +rides. When the hot weather had begun to make itself felt, and the brain-fever +bird to make himself heard, Mrs. Krauss had insisted on dispatching her niece +to this resort, chaperoned by Mrs. Gregory; but as far as she herself was +concerned nothing would induce her to leave home. +</p> + +<p> +“I love my own veranda and my own dear bed,” she declared; “I shall have lots +of electric fans and ice, all the new books, and Lily will look after me; but +you, Sophy, being a new-comer and not acclimatised, must positively depart.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy exerted her utmost eloquence to induce her aunt to follow the fashion and +spend, at least, two months in the hills, and her efforts were warmly supported +by Mr. Krauss, but his wife made no reply—she merely beamed and shook her head. +Eloquence and persuasion were wasted. He and Sophy might just as well have +appealed to the alabaster Buddha in the drawing-room. Flora Krauss never +argued—possibly this was one phase of her indolent nature. She merely assumed +an immovable, negative attitude and met every suggestion with a smile and a +shake of the head. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy had no desire to leave Rangoon; she protested that she had only been out +seven months and really required no change; but her appeal was silenced by the +voice of authority. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear child,” said her aunt, “you’ve no idea what you would be like in three +months’ time. I am hardened and acclimatised, but your nice complexion would +soon take leave, never to return. You would be covered with hideous spots and +you would probably get fever. Mrs. Gregory is most anxious for your company and +<i>I</i> am equally anxious for your departure. You will have a very good time +up at May Myo and go you must!” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy had no alternative and was compelled to obey orders. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall miss you most dreadfully, my dear,” said her aunt; “it is so nice to +have you flitting about the house, not to speak of your vivacious company and +delicious music. Your music is really wonderful; it seems to exorcise an evil +spirit that gives me no peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Aunt Flora,” expostulated the girl, “how can you say such things? Surely +you don’t believe in evil spirits?” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear child, how can I help it when I live in a country where millions +of people worship and fear them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Those are only ignorant natives; you would not allow their superstitions to +affect you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at any rate, your playing uplifts and soothes me; I can’t imagine how +you inherited this gift; your mother was not particularly musical, nor was I. I +recollect my misery as a girl in struggling through ‘The Harmonious +Blacksmith,’ and I never remember hearing that we had any musical genius in the +family. Of course, the natives here would find an easy answer and say that you +had been a great musician in another incarnation.” +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this solemn explanation Sophy burst into peals of laughter, at which +rejoinder Mrs. Krauss looked both shocked and hurt and, after an awkward +silence, the subject dropped. +</p> + +<p> +And so, in spite of Sophy’s efforts to remain in Rangoon, she was figuratively +driven into the arms of Mrs. Gregory. The Maitlands and the Pomeroys had also +invited her to May Myo, but Mrs. Gregory overbore all competition and insisted +that she must have Sophy as a companion to share her bungalow and accompany her +songs, and departed in triumph, carrying the girl with her. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Krauss attended her niece to the railway station, loaded her with books +and fruit and saw her off with urgent and affectionate injunctions and many +kisses. During the last few months Mrs. Krauss appeared to have become a +transformed person; she went about continually in her smart new car, was seen +at dances, little dinners and the theatre, and had recovered a faint shadow of +her former good looks and something of her old animation. +</p> + +<p> +Herr Krauss naturally attributed this change to her niece, and showed his +gratitude to Sophy in various abrupt ways, suffering her to mix with the +English society without sneers or interference. Sophy did not now see so much +of the German community; she was aware that Mrs. Muller and others no longer +approved of her, and Frau Wurm had said openly, “that although the girl had +done her best to learn how to keep a house, her heart had never been in the +business and she was not <i>schwärmerisch</i> to German people or German ways!” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Whilst Sophy Leigh had been enjoying herself at May Myo, among the green hills +and soft airs of Upper Burma, Shafto, in the oppressive sultry heat, had had +some pleasant and unpleasant experiences. +</p> + +<p> +The pleasant experience was that his salary had been raised. Now he could +afford to buy another horse and keep a <i>tum-tum</i>; with a heavier purse he +was able to send home some well-chosen and handsome presents—a China crêpe +shawl for Mrs. Malone, ivory carvings to the Tebbs, an Indian <i>chuddah</i> to +his aunt and a heavy gold bangle for each of the girls. Unfortunately one gift +to “Monte Carlo” had a dire and unexpected result—it brought him a deluge of +letters from Cossie, who was rapturous over his promotion and “his beautiful, +exquisite, <i>darling</i> gift,” which she wore on her arm day and night! +</p> + +<p> +“I felt sure you had <i>not</i> forgotten me,” was her ominous opening; “you +could not; there is a secret telepathy between us, and I am <i>always</i> +thinking of you, dear old boy.” +</p> + +<p> +Several mails later there arrived a letter from Sandy, the contents of which +almost made his cousin’s hair stand on end. After one or two preliminary +sentences, Shafto’s eyes fell upon these lines: +</p> + +<p> +“By this you will have heard that our Cossie will be afloat; she has been very +restless and unsettled for a long time—almost ever since you left; nothing +seems to please her. First she took up nursing and soon dropped that; then she +took up typing and soon dropped that. At last she has got the wish of her life, +which is to go abroad. She has answered an advertisement and secured a top-hole +situation, as lady nurse in Rangoon. She starts in ten days in the ship that +took you out—the <i>Blankshire</i>, and is so busy and excited that she is +nearly off her nut.” +</p> + +<p> +The same post delivered a thick letter from Cossie, which her ungrateful and +distracted relative tore up unread. Already, in his mind’s eye, Shafto could +see Cossie permanently established in Rangoon, informing everyone that she was +his cousin, bombarding him with <i>chits</i>, worrying him for visits, treats +and attentions. Heaven be praised! neither of his horses carried a lady, it was +as much as he could do to ride them himself. He could not possibly leave +Rangoon and so effect his escape; he was nailed down to his work, not like his +lucky chums, whose business duties occasionally carried them up the country. +His job was confined to Rangoon itself, for eight hours a day. +</p> + +<p> +The prospect filled him with despair; life would become intolerable. A vivid +imagination painted the picture of Cossie, helpless and plaintive, appealing +for information and advice, coming to him to patch up disputes between her and +her employer, to take her on the lakes, to the gymkhana, or the theatre on her +days out. And what would Sophy Leigh think when she saw him accompanied by Mrs. +So-and-So’s European nurse? Putting her absurd partiality for him on one side, +Cossie in her normal condition was a good-natured, amiable creature, and, of +course, when she arrived in Burma he, as her only relative in the country, +would be bound to look after her and show her attention; probably all the world +would believe that they were engaged! Unchivalrous as was the idea, he had a +hateful conviction that it would not be Cossie’s fault if they did not arrive +at that conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +With this sword of Damocles hanging over his head, and the object of his +apprehension being daily brought nearer and yet nearer, Shafto was and looked +abjectly miserable. FitzGerald rallied him boisterously on his glum appearance, +and on being “off his feed.” +</p> + +<p> +“What on earth ails you?” +</p> + +<p> +To his well-intended queries he invariably received the one brief +unsatisfactory answer: “Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +Roscoe, too, endeavoured to puzzle out the mystery. It was not the lack of +money—Shafto was prompt in his payments; <i>his</i> door was never haunted by +bill-collectors, nor had he got into hot water in his office; both his horses +were sound. What could it be? +</p> + +<p> +In due course the <i>Blankshire</i> was signalled and arrived, and the usual +mob of people swarmed aboard to meet their friends. Among these, carrying a +heavy heart, was Shafto; after all, he realised that he must do the right thing +and go to receive his cousin; but, amazing to relate, there was no Miss Larcher +among the passengers! On inquiry he was presented to an excited lady, who had +brought her all the way from Tilbury, filling the situation of lady nurse. Miss +Larcher had not completed the voyage, but had landed at Colombo! On hearing of +his relationship to her late employé, Mrs. Jones, a hot-tempered matron, fell +figuratively tooth and nail upon defenceless Shafto. In a series of breathless +sentences she assured him that “his cousin, Miss Larcher, was no better than an +adventuress, and had behaved in the most dishonest and scandalous manner.” +</p> + +<p> +After a moment—to recover her breath—she went on in gasps: +</p> + +<p> +“I took her on the recommendation of a mutual acquaintance, and at our +interview she appeared quite all right and most anxious to please; but once on +board ship, with her passage paid, I soon discovered that she was not anxious +to please <i>me</i>, but any and every unmarried man she could come across! +Such a shameless and outrageous flirt I <i>never</i> saw. As to her duties, she +was absolutely <i>useless</i>; I don’t believe she had ever washed or dressed a +child in her life before she came to me; she did nothing but dress herself and +sit about the deck with men, leaving me to do her work. When I spoke to her she +simply laughed in my face; the children couldn’t endure her and screamed +whenever she came near them. So I was obliged to do nursemaid whilst she danced +and amused herself—and all at my expense. She made no secret of the fact that +she was on the look out for a husband; and she has gained her end—for she is +married.” +</p> + +<p> +“Married!” repeated Shafto. The news was too good to be true. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at least they landed at Colombo with that intention,” announced the lady +sourly; “she and a coffee planter, a widower, with a touch of black blood. They +were going up country to his estate, and she declared that she was about to +have the time of her life—but I doubt it.” +</p> + +<p> +This piece of news was an unspeakable relief to Shafto. The hypocrite listened +to the long list of his cousin’s enormities with a downcast and apologetic air, +whilst all the time he could have shouted for joy. When at last he was +permitted an opportunity of speaking, he assured the angry matron that he much +deplored Miss Larcher’s shortcomings. His sympathy even took a practical form, +for he generously offered to refund Mrs. Jones half of Miss Larcher’s passage +money; this the lady vouchsafed to receive and subsequently always spoke of +young Shafto as “a remarkably nice, gentlemanly fellow.” Little did she suspect +that the cheque so punctually lodged at her banker’s was in the form of a +heartfelt thank-offering—the price of a young man’s peace! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br/> +MYSTERY AND SUSPICION</h2> + +<p> +One evening after dinner the four chums—unusual circumstance—were all present; +MacNab, seated at the big round table, engaged in putting up a remarkably neat +parcel, the others lounging at ease, smoking and talking. +</p> + +<p> +“Bedad, I know the address of that!” drawled FitzGerald from his long cane +chair, “St. Andrew’s Lodge, Crieff, Perthshire, N.B. Ahem—presents endear +absents.” +</p> + +<p> +“N.B.,” retorted MacNab, “<i>you</i> don’t send many!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, man alive, it’s all I can do to keep myself in boots! And you’re wrong +about presents, for I did send my sister a ruby ring out of ‘Top-Note’s’ +winnings. Things are getting so bad with me financially”—here he struck a match +and then went on—“that some day I’ll be obliged to make a present of myself!” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto, who was reading, looked up over the edge of his book and said: +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know you won’t be declined with thanks?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will take an observation and make sure, me boy—I’m not a confounded fool. +Talking of fools—what about your crazy expedition to-morrow? I say,” addressing +himself particularly to Roscoe and MacNab, “did you know that this fellow is +going out tiger shooting? Tiger shooting, if you please! Tiger shooting is to +be his way of spending the Sabbath; what do you say to <i>that</i>, my +stiff-necked Presbyterian?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tiger shooting where?” inquired Roscoe. +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhere near Elephant Point, with Stafford of the Buffers,” replied Shafto. +“We have got leave, a pass and two trackers.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find it a pretty expensive business,” remarked the canny Scotsman. +</p> + +<p> +“Worse than that!” supplemented Roscoe. “There will be no bag, no tiger skin, +claws, whiskers, or fat. As long as I’ve been in Rangoon—and that’s some +years—I’ve been hearing of this same tiger. Dozens of parties have been out +after him, with no success; he is still living on his reputation—just a myth +and a fortune to the trappers. Lower Burma is much too wet a district for the +great cat tribe.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am told that there are plenty of elephants and tigers in this district,” +argued Shafto. “And what about the tiger that was actually crawling on the +Pagoda not so very long ago! Why, hundreds of people saw the brute; it was shot +by a fellow called Bacon.” +</p> + +<p> +As this was a hard and unanswerable fact Roscoe was for the moment silenced. +After a short pause he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, I don’t believe in the Elephant Point tiger; the other was no +doubt a pious beast—who came from Chin Hills to make a pilgrimage.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have a fine, rough journey, me boy.” said FitzGerald; “nasty deep +swamps, terrible thorn thickets, grass ten foot high—it wouldn’t be <i>my</i> +idea of pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” retorted Shafto, “tiger shooting and turkey-trotting are widely apart.” +</p> + +<p> +“But look here,” exclaimed FitzGerald, as if struck by a thought and now +sitting bolt upright. “Mind you keep your eyes skinned and your ears pricked +when you are down there,” and he threw his friend a significant glance; “you +never know your luck, and you might happen on valuable <i>kubber</i>—and start +some rare sort of game.” +</p> + +<p> +FitzGerald’s warning was amply justified; the tiger-shooting expedition proved +a much rougher business than the sportsmen had anticipated. Once they quitted +the roads and foot-path, vegetation became rank and overpowering and in places +impassable. Swampy ground, dense thorn thickets and elephant grass made +progress enormously difficult—the jungle guards well its many secrets and is +full of dangers to mankind. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bright moonlight night when Shafto and his companions alighted at the +selected area and tossed for posts. These were at a considerable distance +apart, each in a tree, over a “tie-up”—which, on this occasion, happened to be +a goat. +</p> + +<p> +The hours dragged along slowly; Shafto, doubled up in a cramped position on a +<i>machan</i>, felt painfully stiff and was obliged to deny himself the comfort +of a cigarette. There was no sound beyond the bleat of the victim—unwittingly +summoning its executioner, the buzz of myriads of insects, the bass booming of +frogs and the stealthy, mysterious movements of night birds and small animals. +Then by degrees the moon waned and the stars faded—though the sky was still +light. It was about three o’clock in the morning and Shafto was beginning to +agree with Roscoe respecting the tiger myth and to feel uncommonly drowsy, when +his ear was struck by a far-away sound, entirely distinct from buzzing insects +or booming frogs. +</p> + +<p> +The spot which had been thoughtfully selected by the trapper, was within a few +hundred yards of a small cove, chosen as an inviting place for the tiger to +come and slake his thirst. The distant sound came from this direction and, by +degrees, a faint but definite pulsation grew more audible and distinct, and +finally resolved itself, into the steady throbbing of a motor-launch. It was +approaching. +</p> + +<p> +Then from the back of Shafto’s mind he dragged out a memory of FitzGerald’s +mention of a broken-down petrol boat. Here was probably the very one—by no +means a derelict; on the contrary, a fast traveller. For a moment he was +startled, then promptly made up his mind. This was a chance, perhaps, to secure +some really valuable <i>kubber</i>. More than once he had heard it rumoured +that, in these distant creeks and bays, some of the smugglers had discharged +their valuable cargo. Well, if the cargo was now about to be landed, here was +his opportunity! As the bleating of the goat would undoubtedly give him away, +he must get rid of the animal immediately, so he quickly shinned down the tree +and commanded the trapper to remove it. +</p> + +<p> +“Tiger not coming to-night,” he explained to the astonished Burman, who +rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +“Tiger coming soon, soon, now; after the waning of the moon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, never mind,” said Shafto impatiently, “you take away the goat. Look +sharp—take him quickly, quickly and <i>keep</i> him.” +</p> + +<p> +This was an extraordinary <i>thakin</i>, who, at the very climax of the tiger +hour, climbed out of the <i>machan</i> and liberated the bait! Certainly these +English folk were mad. +</p> + +<p> +“You go towards the camp,” he ordered, “and take my gun.” +</p> + +<p> +The Burman, still completely bewildered, obeyed; he could not understand the +situation, but he felt bound to do what he was told, and presently he +disappeared, moving with obvious reluctance, leading the goat and carrying gun +and cartridges. His employer did not immediately follow, but remained for a +considerable time motionless—listening. The pulsation had almost +ceased—evidently the motor-boat had arrived at her destination, which was +unfortunately not in his immediate vicinity. He crept stealthily along in the +direction of the possible anchorage, fighting his way through roots and +undergrowth; it was all of no use—a barrier of morass and elephant grass proved +absolutely impassable, so he turned back towards his camp, pausing now and then +to listen. He could make out voices—one in an authoritative key summoning “Mung +Li.” Well, he had at least discovered something definite—he was in the vicinity +of smugglers. In a short time he discovered something else; through a breach in +the undergrowth he caught a glimpse of a Burman leading a stout, grey pony +carrying a European saddle and—unless his eyes entirely deceived him—the animal +was Krauss’s well-known weight carrier, “Dacoit.” +</p> + +<p> +Two evenings later, at the Gymkhana Club, Krauss lounged up to Shafto, who +happened to be looking on at a billiard match. Taking a cigar out of his mouth +he astonished him by saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, so you had no luck after that tiger down the river!” +</p> + +<p> +This was taking the bull by the horns indeed. “No,” replied Shafto, “but +Stafford saw him and got a shot. He is there all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you will have another try?” suggested Krauss. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so—but not for some time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too much work, eh? Gregory is doing a big trade just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty well,” rejoined Shafto, who was secretly surprised that Krauss should +accost and talk to him in this way. Hitherto their acquaintance had been slight +and, when he had been to tea at “Heidelberg,” the master of the house was +invariably absent. +</p> + +<p> +“How is Mrs. Krauss? I hope she is better.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she has been pretty bad the last few weeks—her niece is coming home in a +day or two and that will cheer her up.” As he concluded he gave Shafto a nod +and a curious look and then, with a sort of elephantine waddle, lounged away. +</p> + +<p> +So far Shafto had never spoken of his <i>kubber</i>; even with the evidence of +his own eyes he shrank from suspecting anyone connected with Sophy Leigh; but +links were joined in spite of his reluctance to face facts. How could Krauss +have known that he had gone tiger shooting? Surely the affairs of an +insignificant fellow like himself never crossed the mental horizon of such a +big and busy person as Karl Krauss? There was no doubt that the animal he had +seen near Elephant Point bore a suspicious resemblance to Krauss’s +weight-carrying grey pony! What was “Dacoit” doing in the jungle, thirty miles +from Rangoon? He could make a pretty good guess. Krauss had motored down, sent +the animal on ahead, and ridden through the grass and jungle in order to +superintend the landing. +</p> + +<p> +Could this be a fact? Or was the whole thing a mere coincidence? Was he +obsessed by FitzGerald and suspecting an honest man, who might have been +shooting in the swamps—why not? +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br/> +SENTENCE OF DEATH</h2> + +<p> +When Sophy Leigh returned from May Myo she had half expected her aunt to meet +her at the station, and was much concerned to discover, when she arrived home, +that Mrs. Krauss had suffered a serious collapse, had not been out of the house +for weeks, but was confined to her own apartments, nursed and attended by the +ever-faithful Lily. Her condition seemed as serious as when Sophy had arrived +from England, ten months previously, she found the patient propped up among her +pillows, weak, apathetic, and terribly wasted. She looked dreadfully ill and +her whole appearance was unkempt and strange. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear Aunt Flora,” said Sophy kneeling beside her and taking her limp +hand, “why did you not let me know? <i>Why</i> did you not wire for me? I would +have come back at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no!” murmured Mrs. Krauss as she rolled her head slowly from side to +side and closed her drowsy, dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“But yes, yes, yes! and when you wrote to me you never said one word about +being ill—though I might have suspected it. Your writing was so feeble—so +shockingly shaky. How long has my aunt been like this?” she asked, appealing to +Lily. +</p> + +<p> +“About three—four weeks,” replied the pouter pigeon, with calm unconcern; “ever +since Mr. Krauss went to Singapore.” +</p> + +<p> +“Most of her friends have been away and my aunt has had no one to look after +her, except you? Did the German ladies come to see her?” +</p> + +<p> +“They did—yes, three, four times; asking plenty questions. Mem-sahib would not +receive them, she liking only be left alone.” +</p> + +<p> +To-day Mrs. Krauss appeared almost unconscious of Sophy’s presence and to be +sunken in a sort of stupor. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as Herr Krauss arrived home Sophy accosted him and deplored her aunt’s +condition. +</p> + +<p> +“If you had only sent me a line I would have been here the next day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, of course,” he acquiesced brusquely. “She wanted you to have a good +time. I have been away, too. Now that you are here I expect she will pick up, +same as before.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you not think that Aunt Flora should see a doctor? The pain is so +agonising that she seems quite stupid and dazed!” +</p> + +<p> +“A doctor—no,” he replied; “she would not allow him inside the compound; her +complaint comes and goes after the manner of its kind; just now it has been +troublesome and this damp climate is bad for neuralgia. Your aunt refuses to +leave home, and so there it is! Lily knows the remedies; she has been with us +for years, and I have every confidence in her nursing.” +</p> + +<p> +After this Sophy realised that there was nothing more to be said or done, but +patiently to await her aunt’s recovery. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the cool weather and, by degrees, Mrs. Krauss was able to leave her +bed and repose in a long chair in the veranda. As her husband predicted, +Sophy’s company was a wonderful help towards her convalescence. She liked to +hear all the news from May Myo about the people, their clothes, their doings +and their gaieties. She even roused herself to play patience and picquet, to +read, to enjoy Sophy’s music, but she showed no inclination to emerge into +society, or receive friends. +</p> + +<p> +“You must go about and amuse yourself, Sophy; I do not feel up to motoring +round, as I did last winter, but I won’t keep you cooped up here with me—then +we should have, not one invalid, but two. You must enjoy your young days, mix +with other young people, dance and ride, bring me the gossip and tell me all +your love affairs, honour bright! Mrs. Gregory has promised to chaperon you +until I am better.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed, Aunt Flora, I’d much rather stay with you,” she protested. “I +could not enjoy myself half so much if you are not with me. Don’t you remember +how nice it was last year, talking over everything together after dances and +the theatre? I will play to you and read aloud, and if I ride in the morning, +that will be as much outing as I shall require.” +</p> + +<p> +But in spite of Sophy’s anxious protestations, once more her aunt consigned her +to the charge of Mrs. Gregory, who, delighted in the responsibility, escorted +her to dances and tennis parties, rode with her, and proved, in spite of the +disparity in their years, a dear and congenial friend. +</p> + +<p> +When at home Sophy would sit with her relative in her darkened room, which +always seemed to hold a peculiar and distinctive atmosphere, resembling that of +a chemist’s shop. She brought her all the news that she thought would interest +or amuse her, read the letters from home, tempted her to drive out, and read +her new novels; but in these days Aunt Flora seemed to take but a languid +interest in life, and her recovery was strangely tardy and fitful. On some days +she was better, on others worse. Occasionally she would crawl out to the motor, +or appear at dinner, but she looked dreadfully ill, her face so yellow and +wrinkled, her whole appearance unkempt and peculiar. She was also abstracted +and odd in her manner, at times even a little incoherent; and her eyes had a +glazed, fixed expression. Sometimes as Sophy sat in the darkened room her mind +was burdened with vague anxieties; she recalled the looks and questions of Frau +Wurm; could it be altogether neuralgia that brought her aunt to such a pass? +And if not, what? A casual eye might suppose that the invalid was under the +influence of drink, but this was not the case. Mrs. Krauss was exceedingly +temperate—her favourite stimulant was strong black coffee. +</p> + +<p> +The rains were over and Rangoon was unusually full, and the committee of the +Pegu Club decided to give a dance. This dance was to be the cheeriest of the +season, the secretary had exerted himself to the utmost, and the great ballroom +looked particularly well, all colour and glow, with splashes of bright shades, +a profusion of palms and flowers, and a reckless prodigality of electric light. +Practically everyone was present, even Herr Krauss, who, on this supreme +occasion, had volunteered to chaperon his niece. The band was playing the +newest waltzes and a varied assortment of Rangoon residents swung over the +polished floor—men well known and otherwise, stout girls of German ancestry, +daughters of judges, and soldiers, princesses of the Burmese dynasty, and +dark-eyed maidens of Anglo-India. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto had only succeeded in securing two dances with Sophy Leigh—besides the +privilege of conducting her to supper. They were resting in the veranda, after +a long, exhausting waltz, watching the crowd pour out of the ballroom; among +others they noticed, approaching them, Mr. FitzGerald and his partner, Miss +Fuchsia Bliss, a little frail American, who had dropped out of a touring party +from the Philippines, and since then, as she expressed it, “had been staying +around in Rangoon,” first at the Lieutenant-Governor’s, next at the Pomeroys’, +now, with a slight descent in the scale of precedence, with the Gregorys. She +had struck up a demonstrative but sincere friendship with Sophy Leigh and stood +in the forefront of her admirers. +</p> + +<p> +Fuchsia Bliss was an orphan, absolutely independent in every sense of the word, +who looked considerably younger than her real age, and appeared so small and so +fragile that, like thistledown, she might almost be blown away. Nevertheless, +she was anything but light, in either head or purse. Fuchsia was not pretty; +indeed, to be honest, was barely good-looking. Her complexion was colourless, +her thick hair a dull, ashen shade, her eyes, though remarkably lively, were +much too small, her chin, on the other hand, was much too long. Beautifully +marked brows, white teeth, and a fairy figure, were her assets; and, as she +herself said, “she had plenty of snap!” Miss Bliss was uncommonly shrewd and +vivacious. Her friends (these were many) were somewhat afraid of Fuchsia’s +plain speaking (her thoughts were too close to her tongue); she professed to be +enormously interested in Burma and found it such a quaint old country, declared +that the pagodas were “too sweet for words,” and the Burmese women “just the +dearest, daintiest, best tricked out, little talking dolls!” +</p> + +<p> +(A cynical critic might have compared Miss Fuchsia herself to a “talking +doll.”) +</p> + +<p> +“America,” she announced, “was a brand-new nation, bubbling over with energy +and vim, whilst this drowsy old Eastern land was most deliciously restful and +ancient—it made a nice change.” +</p> + +<p> +Down at the bottom of a good-sized heart Miss Fuchsia was aware that it was not +altogether an admiration for the East which detained her lingering in Burma. +For the first time in her life the pale-faced heiress was seriously interested +in one of the other sex. This fortunate man happened to be Patrick FitzGerald, +of the Burmese Police; a fellow without a penny beyond his pay, but well set +up, self-possessed, and handsome; a capital partner, a congenial spirit, and a +complete contrast to herself. +</p> + +<p> +The couple now approached Shafto and his companion, FitzGerald, rather warm, +mopping his good-looking face, Miss Bliss, tripping airily beside him, in an +exquisite green toilet, still—as always—talking. +</p> + +<p> +“Only think—he has got to go!” she announced with a dramatic gesture, halting +in front of Sophy as she spoke. “Isn’t it too—too awfully provoking? He has +been sent for, right now in the middle of the ball—engaged to me for two more +waltzes, supper and an extra, and here am I, side-tracked!” +</p> + +<p> +“A true bill—I am off,” said FitzGerald, with a significant glance at Shafto; +“I leave Miss Bliss and my reputation in your hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Bliss can take good care of herself,” she announced, sitting down. +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt of that,” assented Shafto; “all the same, Miss Leigh and I will +attend Miss Bliss to supper.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she protested, “I have planned to take in Mr. Gregory.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is if you can get hold of him,” argued her late partner; “he is playing +bridge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, anyway, <i>I</i> shan’t go begging!” said Fuchsia, leaning back on +the lounge and crossing her tiny, exquisitely shod feet. +</p> + +<p> +“But whoever dreamt of that?” exclaimed Shafto. “And here by great good luck +comes Gregory. I say, he looks as if his last partner had gone No Trumps on a +Yarborough!” +</p> + +<p> +Almost before he had joined them the police officer disappeared, and the party +adjourned to the supper-room, where they found places at the same round table +as Mrs. Pomeroy and Herr Bernhard. Herr Krauss, a ponderous free lance, who was +completely detached, joined the circle uninvited, and pushed his huge person +into an empty chair, next to Miss Bliss. The soup, hot quails, and champagne +were above criticism. Miss Bliss, as usual, did most of the talking and +entertained the company. +</p> + +<p> +“What a difference there is between our dancing and the native performance,” +she remarked. “Our tangos and turkey-trotting are just an amusement, ending in +a feast, whilst their diversion is mostly prayers, intoning, gongs, and bells, +burning candles and telling beads. The Burmese seem to be always thinking of +their souls; Oriental nations beat us at religion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Religion, such as it is!” rejoined Bernhard with a sneer. “After all, what +does it amount to with them but the fear of evil spirits and the propitiation +of <i>nats</i> and demons? Crowds go to the Pagoda and offer flowers, prayers +and candles, yet all the time their faith is not in Buddha, but in devils. They +cover up their pillars and offer sacrifices to the <i>nats</i>, build them nice +little houses, make them flattering speeches, and look for a return in the +shape of a piece of luck! Buddhism is merely a philosophy—not a religion,” he +concluded sententiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there is one item in their faith which I admire,” said Shafto; “they +have no fear of death—they firmly believe that we shall pass into another +existence, and how we fare in the next world depends on our good or evil deeds +in this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely that is an ordinary point of view,” said Fuchsia, “and talking of evil +deeds, such as big and little lies—murder—robbery—fraud, does anyone think +there is <i>real</i> harm in smuggling? No one would call that an evil deed, +although it is punishable by law. I must confess that it appeals to me +enormously; it’s like a game, a sort of hide and seek. If I only had an +opening, I feel confident that it is <i>in</i> me to become a most accomplished +professional! There is no injury to anyone, and it must be so exciting, and if +you bring it off, oh, what a triumph! I did envy a woman I came across with +from France. She landed a twenty-thousand pearl necklace in a hair-pad.” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t go far for smuggling—there’s plenty of it in this country,” said +Mrs. Pomeroy, in her slow, decided manner. “My husband says it is on the +increase, and is a most serious question—a matter of vital concern.” +</p> + +<p> +“Increase!” echoed Krauss. “No, no, my dear lady, that is nonsense; don’t you +believe it. Smuggling isn’t worth while in Burma—it couldn’t pay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but it does exist and it pays hand over fist,” argued Shafto. “Why only +last week a piano-case full of opium was taken off a Chinese steamer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Opium smuggling!” broke in Fuchsia eagerly. “We know all about that in the +States. Opium smuggling is frightfully bad in ’Frisco. There are deadly dens in +parts of the town, where they say they make away with people.” +</p> + +<p> +“And here people make away with themselves,” supplemented Shafto, whose +thoughts flew to a recent suicide. +</p> + +<p> +“Did any of you ever happen to read a story by Frank Norris about a girl who +was lost?” And Fuchsia planted her sharp elbows on the table and cast an +interrogative glance round her audience. “No, I expect not; but it’s perfectly +true. Then listen,” she proceeded with an air of genial narration. “A pretty +girl and her fiancé—both from New York—were poking round the sights in ’Frisco +and, leaving the rest of their party, pushed on into the worst Chinese quarter, +without a guide. It had such a bad name that even the police gave it a wide +berth. Well, in they went, these two innocents; it looked quite all right, just +the same as other places they had visited, and they found a real dandy +tea-house and ordered tea. Whilst they waited a most superior Chinaman appeared +and invited the young man to come and inspect a wonderful piece of silk. He +said it would not take him a moment to look at, while the young lady was +resting; so the young man accepted the invitation, examined the beautiful piece +of silk, made an offer for yards and yards, and hurried back, only to find that +the girl had disappeared. Her gloves and sunshade were there all right, but she +was never seen again, although her people offered an enormous reward, and more +or less raised Cain!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s just a bit of sensational fiction,” growled Herr Krauss, “and I +dare say brought the author a couple of hundred dollars. They pay high rates +for that sort of rubbish in the States.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t be surprised if it couldn’t be pretty well matched here,” was +Shafto’s bold declaration. “Not in the way of kidnapping inquisitive young +ladies, but there are dens and spiders’ webs in Rangoon where people are drawn +in like flies—and die like flies.” +</p> + +<p> +Krauss threw back his head, gave a loud harsh laugh, and tossed off a tumbler +of champagne. +</p> + +<p> +“Young Shafto,” he exclaimed, “you <i>are</i> a funny fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do believe there is something in what Mr. Shafto says,” said Fuchsia in her +thin nasal voice. “I was told this as a mighty secret—but of course it’s safe +here,” throwing a complacent glance round the table, “and I’d just like you all +to know that the reason Mr. FitzGerald was sent for in such a hurry is that the +police have been given the straight tip, and expect to make a real fine haul of +smugglers and opium—this very night!” +</p> + +<p> +Herr Krauss glanced quickly at his neighbour, his eyes flickering. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. FitzGerald,” she continued, “said that if he could only get hold of one or +two big men who are behind the cocaine and opium trade he’d be doing a service +to the world; he is most frightfully keen on catching them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not easy to catch what doesn’t exist,” declared Herr Krauss in his guttural +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“But smuggling does exist—surely you know that, and smuggling on an enormous +scale,” pronounced Mrs. Pomeroy authoritatively; “there are awful dens off the +China bazaar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the place is honeycombed with them,” supplemented Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, how do you know?” demanded Krauss with asperity. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, since you ask me—I’ve been in one or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Getting copy for a book, eh? Local colour—and local atmosphere.” +</p> + +<p> +“The atmosphere was pretty foul,” rejoined Shafto; “I don’t attempt to write.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even fiction?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a bitter sneer in Krauss’s question. +</p> + +<p> +“No, not even fiction,” echoed Shafto stolidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I’ll tell you all something that sounds like fiction or a dime novel,” +volunteered the irrepressible Fuchsia. Then, without a pause, she continued: +“Mr. FitzGerald got a note from a broken-down European loafer; a gentleman who +had lost every single thing in the wide world—self-respect, money, friends and +wits—through drugs and nothing else; he could not keep away from them unless he +was chained up, but he wanted to save others from his own wretched fate.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was very splendid of the loafer!” remarked Mr. Krauss, and leaning back +in his chair he beckoned to a waiter and said: “Boy, champagne!” When the +champagne was brought, he said: “Let us all drink the health of this noble +loafer, who cannot help himself but helps others. Here’s to the benevolent +informer! Let us hope he will meet with his reward—even in this life,” and he +raised a brimming glass. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid there’s not much chance of that, poor chap,” murmured Shafto, “for +if he is a man I know, he is down and under—his case is hopeless.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pomeroy, who had been slowly drawing on her gloves, now pushed back her +chair and rose and, with sudden unanimity, the company broke up and dispersed. +</p> + +<p> +Little did Fuchsia suppose, as she chattered unguardedly and gave away a +confidence, that, in doing so, she had signed what was neither more nor less +than a sentence of death. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br/> +THE LATE RICHARD ROSCOE</h2> + +<p> +Two days after the ball, as Shafto was passing through the veranda, Roscoe met +him, took him by the arm, accompanied him into his room, and solemnly closed +the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, there is,” replied Roscoe gravely, “and I thought I’d tell you when +we were by ourselves. That cousin of mine, Dirk Roscoe, has been done for. He +was found this morning in a back drain, in one of the gullies, with the stab of +a <i>dah</i> in his back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, poor chap!” exclaimed Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he hadn’t much of a life to lose, had he? However, such as it was, he +laid it down for others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suppose it was he who put FitzGerald on the track of this splendid +haul—six hundred ounces of cocaine?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was—yes, although he knew the risk he ran. He sent FitzGerald a line and +warned him that there would be two sampans in Bozo creek; that one sampan would +be a decoy, loaded with stones, but that they would find what they wanted in +the other, which would attempt to clear off whilst they were examining the +dummy. It’s a pretty big loss to some people, and cocaine will be scarce for a +week or two—and dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“It beats me to understand how these beggars manage to find the money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, they prowl round at night and thieve—and are capable of the most daring +theft. I’ve known them steal a whole lot of furniture out of a sitting-room, a +man’s evening clothes out of his dressing-room—not forgetting his gold watch +and chain and even tooth-brush and tumbler. Once they actually had the cheek to +take a pony belonging to the Chief Inspector of Police and sell him over at +Moulmein. The small fry take taps, pipes, bits of zinc roofing, rope—anything +that will bring in a few annas.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about your cousin? Tell me more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much more to tell. He is in the mortuary and, of course, there has been +the usual inquest; he will be buried this evening, quite late; FitzGerald and I +are going to the funeral.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come, too, if I may.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, do. Our padre is a brick—he is having a quiet service in the +cemetery at ten o’clock; there is a good moon. If it had been a public, +daylight affair, lots of questions would have to be asked—and answered.” +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock the three Englishmen and the chaplain stood round the grave of a +man who, within the last few hours, had arrived at the end of a wasted life—a +victim to the drug that deals misery and destruction. As the three chums walked +away to where their horses awaited them, Roscoe said: +</p> + +<p> +“My cousin Richard, although he looked any age under eighty, was only +thirty-five—two years younger than myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Joe,” said FitzGerald, “your cousin was murdered for giving me +information. He knew the risk he was running, he knew that there are eyes and +ears all over the place, and the chances were ninety to one he would be put out +of the way—he hinted as much in his letter. Now then, I’m going to put my back +into the business, and if I don’t find out something about this cocaine +smuggling, I’ll—I’ll——” he reflected for a moment and added abruptly, “never go +to another dance! It’s a syndicate who had this crime carried out; they have +their hired assassins like the ‘Black Hand’ in Sicily. Some of the crew are +bound to be in Rangoon, for Roscoe’s sentence and execution took place within a +few hours. Now it is my aim and intention to discover who they are—and to carry +war into the enemy’s quarter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Fitz,” said Roscoe, “I know how you love adventure—and the smoke of +battle, and I feel fairly confident that you will do your best and, let us +hope, storm and shatter the cocaine stronghold.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br/> +FITZGERALD IMPARTS INFORMATION</h2> + +<p> +Up to the time of the murder of Roscoe, Shafto had kept his experience to +himself; even with the evidence of his own eyes he shrank from suspecting +anyone connected with Sophy. After all, there were plenty of Shan ponies in +Rangoon, and Krauss’s inquiry about the tiger might be just a mere coincidence; +but now facts were forming up in stern array, despite his reluctance to face +them. There was no doubt that Krauss had spies and tools, and if that was his +grey pony “Dacoit,” what was “Dacoit” doing in the jungle, thirty miles from +Rangoon? It was suspiciously strange that, after Miss Bliss’s mention of a +loafer who had given information—a loafer toasted by Krauss—an individual +answering the description had so promptly disappeared. Well now, Sophy or no +Sophy, FitzGerald must be told! +</p> + +<p> +Shafto found his opportunity the following night, when he and the police +officer had the veranda to themselves. Roscoe, with an actor’s unquenchable +ardour for the theatre, was patronising a play. The tour of “Charley’s Aunt” +had reached Rangoon. The MacNab was dining with the Presbyterian minister. +</p> + +<p> +After the table had been cleared and cheroots produced, without any +circumlocution or preface, Shafto plunged into his subject and laid his +information and suspicions before his friend who, to his amazement, replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, I’ve had my own ideas for some time, me boy. I have noticed that +Krauss is one of the loudest in crowing whenever we make a haul of contraband; +it has struck me that his enthusiasm is a bit overdone. I believe he is in with +a pack of swindlers, but has a wonderful knack of safeguarding his own ugly +carcass. His wealth is a well-known fact, but its source is distinctly +mysterious. He is not like the usual business man, who puts by a few thousands +every now and then, made in teak or paddy; Krauss has a share in everything +that’s any good. Oil, rubies, trams, wolfram, rubber, and so on. The capital he +invests in these concerns cannot come from ordinary speculation in rice and +teak—so the question is, where does he get it?” +</p> + +<p> +As Shafto made no reply, FitzGerald put down his cheroot, drew his chair closer +to the table and, leaning over to his companion, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, me boy, you are a thundering good sort, and I’d like to tell you +one or two small things—and give you a bit of advice that may be useful. From +what you say, I have no doubt that Krauss suspects that you have seen something +of his game—how much he cannot be sure; but one thing is absolutely certain—he +won’t trust you, and you’ll find that, in some way or other, he’ll have his +knife into Douglas Shafto.” +</p> + +<p> +“Same as the late Richard Roscoe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us hope he won’t feel obliged to take such strong measures; but I wouldn’t +put it past him to do you a devilish nasty turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is pleasant but indefinite.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let me advise you to take cover; do not go about alone after dark, or on +foot.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never do, except over to the Salters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t stir, even over to the Salters, or when you do go, take Roscoe; he and +Salter are birds of a feather—a couple of philosophers, clever, deeply-read +cranks. I shall notify to my men to keep a sharp eye on you.” +</p> + +<p> +“So then I’m to be under police protection, am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid it will be a distressing necessity; but the fact will naturally be +known only to you and me.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you honestly believe that Krauss is not on the square?” +</p> + +<p> +FitzGerald nodded and then replied: +</p> + +<p> +“He does not associate with the best German people here—I think they smell a +rat; and the English give him a fairly wide berth. His manners are impossible; +even in Rangoon money is not everything, and his record is peculiar. He came +away from China stony-broke, picked up a few thousands in Singapore and then +settled in Rangoon about twelve years ago—and Rangoon has suited him down to +the ground. When they first arrived Mrs. Krauss was an extraordinarily handsome +woman, popular and lively; could keep a whole dinner-table going and was always +splendidly dressed. On the whole, a valuable, but unconscious tool! Latterly +her health has failed and she has subsided. Besides his German hangers on, the +oddest sort of guests collect at ‘Heidelberg,’ though you and I may not meet +them—men from Calcutta, the Straits and even China. Not long ago I came across +Krauss’s brown motor in a block in Phayre Street. I happened to glance inside; +there was Krauss himself and two fat natives, one a notorious <i>budmash</i>, +and I noticed that, after I had passed, a hand <i>pulled down the blind</i>. +Why? In a place like this, and indeed everywhere, a man is judged by his +friends. Krauss tries to keep in with Rangoon society and poses as a brusque, +eccentric sort of a fellow, with a rude manner and a good heart. The days of +his grand dinner-parties came to an end some time ago. Now the fat grey spider +at ‘Heidelberg’ has to rely more or less on his wife’s pretty niece; she is +bright and popular and attracts a lot of useful people into his web. To see +that girl pouring out tea, or sitting at the piano, making delicious music, who +would suppose that ‘Heidelberg’ was the headquarters of a gang of thieves? Mrs. +Krauss is a back number, her health has gone to pieces, and lately I believe +she is in a bad way.” He paused, and surveying Shafto with half-closed eyes, +added: +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you don’t know what her complaint is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes—acute neuralgia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Acute grandmother!” scoffed FitzGerald. “Guess again!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—what?” +</p> + +<p> +FitzGerald leant over, took a long breath, and whispered the word “Cocaine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nonsense!” And Shafto burst out laughing. “Why, man, you’re mad!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mad—not a bit of it! I happen to know where she gets the stuff and I’ve known +for a good while, Krauss has no idea that his wife drugs; it’s all so artfully +managed. That Madras ayah is a rare treasure and as cunning as the devil; she +ought to be in our Secret Service. I needn’t tell you that she is extravagantly +paid.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well—but, Fitz, I don’t believe it; no, and I won’t believe it.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, then. Look here, have you never noticed how brilliant and lively +Mrs. Krauss is at times, with shining eyes and a colour in her cheeks? Then on +other days, if she does appear, she is limp as a wet rag, depressed and old; +there is a complete lack of all vital force. Now tell me how you account for +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her illness,” stammered Shafto; “the climate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither the one nor the other. But bar the cocaine habit, Mrs. Krauss is all +right and straight; she has no suspicion of her husband’s ill practices, nor he +of hers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you suspect both?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? Suspicion is part of my trade. I think you and I had better be +seeking our beds; I have seen the <i>chokidar</i> peering round the corner of +the staircase; I don’t know what he is up to; he may imagine that we are +hatching mischief. I caught his eye when I was whispering just now, and it is +more than likely that he has suspicions of us both!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br/> +A ROPE TRICK</h2> + +<p> +This conversation with FitzGerald gave his housemate ample food for serious +reflection. If Krauss was a deep-dyed scoundrel, and his wife a victim of the +cocaine habit, what a home for Sophy! If he could only take her away from it! +But what grounds had he for hoping that she would marry him? In spite of their +pleasant meetings, their rides and dances, he had never ventured to hint at his +real feelings, knowing that he was far from being what is called “an eligible +match,” and having a surprisingly humble opinion of his own merits. He was now +receiving five hundred rupees a month, which, after all, did not go far in +expensive Rangoon. Could a man marry on such an income, or on the supposition +that what was barely enough for one would be sufficient for two? +</p> + +<p> +As far as he was in a position to judge, Sophy’s ideas were not extravagant, +and she would be better almost anywhere than in her present abode; but he had +not the slightest right to suppose that she cared two pins for him; on the +other hand, he had a hateful and well-founded conviction that not a few of the +young men among her acquaintances would be glad to claim Miss Leigh as a wife. +There were Fotheringay the A.D.C., Gubbins of the Oil Company, and one or two +others, fluttering about her and scorching their wings. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +After a month of procrastination and delay, the Rangoon Commissariat +Department, under an energetic new official, decided to embark a collection of +sixty elephants, which had long been awaiting transport from the neighbourhood +of Rangoon, to India. Now a large sailing-ship had been chartered to carry this +interesting cargo across the Bay of Bengal to Vizagapatam, where they would be +scattered to work in all parts of the country. +</p> + +<p> +The sailing-ship was anchored across the river at Dallah, and, in order to +reach their destination, the elephants were called upon to swim the Rangoon +River—sixty, no fewer, mostly young animals which had been caught and trained, +the property of the Indian Government. The move took place upon Thursday (the +Garrison holiday), and a large number of people were assembled to witness this +unusual departure. The emigrants were ranged up in groups, two huge tuskers +appeared to be in charge of the business of embarkation, and, to do them +justice, carried it out with conspicuous success, taking it in turn to convoy +select parties across the river, here a mile wide. The “personally conducted” +were at first delighted to be in the water. They splashed and played about like +huge porpoises, and were smacked and kept in order like naughty children by +their great tusker nurse, and eventually guided to a landing. Some, on the +other hand, did not enjoy the excursion, were alarmed by the force of the +current and turned tail. These were chased, vigorously chastised, herded in the +way they should go, and escorted to the other side—all save one, which +obstinately refused to quit terra firma, and was accordingly fastened to a +launch, in order to be towed across; but the powerful and headstrong brute +towed the launch inland and, having utterly smashed it and destroyed several +bamboo sheds, effected its triumphal escape. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the fifty-nine were assembled at Dallah, patiently awaiting their +fate. A number of people had collected on the landing-stage, close to the big +ship, to watch her strange cargo being placed on board. The lower hold of this +huge four-master had been entirely cleared, and into this receptacle the +devoted elephants were lowered by a gigantic steam crane. Meanwhile they were +formed up behind a huge shed in order that none should witness the scheme of +departure, or the undignified transfer of its companions. A selected victim was +coaxed, flattered, caressed, and then marched proudly down the pier between two +deceitful and majestic tuskers, a pair of stern old gentlemen that would stand +no nonsense; soothed and bribed by a generous supply of sugar-cane, the +unsuspicious traveller was halted directly under the crane; a belly-band +encircled his enormous waist, and to this was attached a hook; then, at a given +signal, the astonished animal was suddenly hoisted into the air. And what a +sight! Trunk waving madly, legs wildly reaching for foothold, a helpless and +ridiculous monster, endeavouring to clutch the rigging. Presently the frantic +passenger was slowly lowered to the hold, where his own beloved mahout and a +pile of luscious lucerne awaited his agitated arrival. +</p> + +<p> +Lookers-on found the spectacle of a helpless elephant struggling in mid-air +excessively amusing, and the immediate neighbourhood of the ship was crowded. +Here were the Pomeroys, Maitlands, Morgans, Puffles, Mrs. Gregory, Miss Leigh, +and numbers of others, including Shafto, who, much interested in this novel +sight, had taken several snapshots. Just as he snapped the last elephant, he +felt the sharp jerk of a rope round his ankles, and in another second was swept +into the racing Irrawaddy. +</p> + +<p> +As the water surged over his head, the sharp shock and the submersion +momentarily took away his breath. Shafto was a strong swimmer, but the current +was tremendous and not to be denied; it carried him right out into the middle +of the river, spinning him round and round like a leaf in a torrent. He +realised his danger and that his lease of life could now be counted by seconds. +His thoughts flew straight to Sophy; with a sensation of piercing agony he felt +that he would never see her again. By extraordinary good fortune a steam launch +which was crossing had noticed the swimmer’s dark head, as well as the shouts +and the signals from the landing-stage, and promptly overtook him, drew him +breathless and half drowned on board, and landed him at Dallah. Shafto had had +a miraculous escape, for those who fall into the Irrawaddy rarely emerge alive; +his adventure was much discussed and debated for one whole day at Gregory’s and +elsewhere. +</p> + +<p> +“How on earth did it happen? Lucky you were clear of the ship, otherwise you +would have been sucked underneath and never been found,” remarked a friend; “we +cannot imagine how you tumbled in—did anyone <i>shove</i> you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I just tripped over a rope,” he announced, when questioned at the Club; +but to FitzGerald he confided the truth—the whole truth: +</p> + +<p> +“I was standing pretty close to the edge of the stage—among a lot of natives, +as it happened—taking snapshots of the elephants, when all of a sudden I felt a +rope twist round my legs; it gave a sort of sharp pull, and the next moment I +was in the water! It’s a nasty experience to have the Irrawaddy closing over +your head; I have its taste in my mouth still! I’ll swear that there were hands +at the end of the rope, and that I saw no rope about when I first came on the +pier, for I happened to be early—and it was pretty empty. Later, there was a +big crowd and a lot of pushing and hustling. I noticed several Chinamen hanging +round and pressing together; now that I come to think of it, they surrounded +me. The rope was not the usual thick hawser, but something thinner and more +flexible—more like whipcord such as a fellow could carry in his pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did I tell you?” said FitzGerald, thumping on the table with both his +fists. “We must get a move on and try to corner Krauss; that rope was a +preliminary experiment, and all but landed you in Kingdom Come!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap28"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br/> +MA CHIT</h2> + +<p> +Although Shafto had many acquaintances and continual engagements, he never +forgot his first friends, the Salters, and still strolled over of an evening, +accompanied by Roscoe, to sit in the veranda, talk, smoke, and listen, until +his companions began to discuss such abstract questions as, “What is the real +driving force of life?” or to argue on the philosophy of Buddhism, or Herbert +Spencer’s “Descriptive Sociology” and the “Unknowable.” +</p> + +<p> +When conversation turned in this direction Shafto felt entirely out of his +element and slipped indoors to play games with Rosetta or her mother. Recently +it had struck him that Ma Chit appeared to have become more or less a permanent +member of the establishment, being so constantly with her cousin. She took an +enthusiastic interest in Rosetta’s brick-building, superintended and sharply +criticised Mee Lay’s games of dominoes, and even suggested herself as a +substitute. Burmese dominoes are black, with brass points, and held in the hand +like cards. Mrs. Slater, a keen and clever opponent, indignantly refused to +relinquish her post to her relative, and was radiant and triumphant when she +carried off a stake of eight annas. Shafto would have enjoyed these matches, +and this contest of wits and luck, had Ma Chit been elsewhere, instead of +leaning on his chair, looking over his hand, laughing, throwing quick glances, +and making idiotic remarks. Once he had been not a little startled to find her +tiny brown fingers inserted between his collar and his neck! He shook them off +impatiently; he hated such practical jokes, and said so in no measured terms. +</p> + +<p> +More than once, he had been solemnly assured, the fascination of this girl’s +personality worked like a charm, and it had become disagreeably evident that +she wished to cast a spell over <i>him</i>. How often had her bright black eyes +imparted an alluring tale! However, he felt himself well protected by an +impenetrable shield on which was inscribed the name of “Sophy,” and Ma Chit +gracefully posturing with tingling bangles and twittering talk, had no more +effect upon her prey than on a stone image. No; although she hung over him, +tapped him with too eloquent fingers, whispered jokes in his ear, and filled +his nostrils with an exquisite and voluptuous perfume, she was powerless! +</p> + +<p> +One evening he happened to be playing chess with Salter; Roscoe was at +<i>pwe</i>; Mee Lay was putting Rosetta to bed, but Ma Chit was present, +listening, smiling, and smoking her white cheroot. At the conclusion of a close +and hard-fought game, in which Shafto was victorious she leant over, gazed into +his eyes, and stroked his face with two caressing fingers. As he drew back +quickly, she burst out laughing and exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“But why are you so shy, dear boy? Always so shy—so odd and so foolish?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto found the siren undeniably pretty and seductive, but at the same time +irrepressible and odious. He hated her catlike litheness, her undulating walk, +and the unmistakable invitation of her whole personality. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Ma Chit, behave yourself!” said her host sternly. “If you can’t—you +don’t come here again.” +</p> + +<p> +The beauty received this admonition with a scream of laughter, tossed a flower +at Salter, wafted a kiss to his guest, and faded away into the veranda. +</p> + +<p> +By degrees, thanks to his constant encounters with Ma Chit, Shafto avoided the +Salters’ bungalow, and Roscoe made his visits alone; but as it was not more +than three hundred yards from the chummery Shafto had a painful conviction +that, when dusk and darkness had fallen, the neighbourhood of his compound was +haunted—not by the malignant and resident <i>nat</i>, but by the graceful and +sinuous figure of a little Burmese girl! Once a stone, to which was attached a +paper, was thrown into his room. On it was inscribed in a babu’s clerkly hand: +</p> + +<p> +“Do come and talk to Ma Chit.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap29"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br/> +MUNG BAW</h2> + +<p> +Returning one evening from a lively dinner at the “Barn,” Shafto was surprised +to see a light in his room, and still more surprised to find the <i>pongye</i> +once again seated on his bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, so you’ve come back!” he exclaimed aghast, and a shadow of annoyance +settled on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I have so,” calmly responded this late visitor; “as I was passing I thought +I’d give you a call in. I came down a couple of weeks back—as I have some small +business here and wanted to show myself to a doctor. I don’t hold with them +native medicines and charms, and I’m inclined to a weakness in me inside.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you look as strong as a horse!” was Shafto’s unsympathetic rejoinder, as +he sank into a chair and pulled out a cigarette. The <i>pongye</i> contributed +a special personal atmosphere, composed of turmeric, woollen stuff and some +fiercely pungent herb. +</p> + +<p> +“Looks is deceitful, and so is many a fine fellow,” observed the <i>pongye</i> +in a dreamy voice. After this pronouncement he relapsed into a reflective +silence—a silence which conveyed the subtle suggestion that the visitor was +charged with some weighty mission. At any rate, it was useless for Shafto to +think of undressing and going to bed, since his couch was already occupied by +the holy man, who appeared to be established for the night. +</p> + +<p> +Interpreting Shafto’s envious glance, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll excuse me sitting on the <i>charpoy</i>, but I’ve got entirely out of +the use of chairs, and me bones are too stiff to sit doubled up on the floor +like a skewered chicken.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s all right,” said Shafto, who was very sleepy. “I suppose you have +just come from Upper Burma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s the part I most belong to and that suits me. I can’t do with this +soft, wet climate, though I am an Irishman. I’m from Mogok, that’s the ruby +mine district, but what I like best is the real jungle. Oh, you’d love to see +the scenery and to walk through miles and miles of grand trees on the Upper +Chindwin; forests blazing with flowers and alive with birds, not to speak of +game. Many’s the time I’ve been aching for the hould of a gun, but, of course, +it was an evil thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your religion forbids you to take life?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true; I’ve not tasted meat for years, but there’s not a word to be said +agin fish or an odd egg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me something more about your new faith!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well now, let me think,” said the <i>pongye</i> meditatively. “We have no +regular service for marriage or burial, and no preaching. We keep the five +great rules—poverty, chastity, honesty, truth, and respect all life. There are +two hundred and twenty-seven precepts besides. Most men can say them off out of +the big book of the Palamauk, and there are stacks and stacks—thousands of +stacks—of sacred writings, but I just stick to the five commandments, the path +of virtue and the daily prayers. The singing and chanting is in Pali—a +wonderful fine, loud language. Many of the <i>pongyes</i> is teachers, for +every boy in Burma passes through their hands; but I’m no schoolmaster, though +I was once a clerk in the Orderly room. I could not stand the gabble of them +scholars, all roaring out the same words at the top of their voices for hours +together.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t imagine how you pass your time,” remarked Shafto, “or how you stand +the idleness—a man like you who were accustomed to an active life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I get through me day all right. In the early morning there’s prayers and a +small refreshment, and I sit and meditate; the young fellows, like novices, +sweep and carry water and put flowers about the Buddha; then we all go with our +bowls in our hands, parading through the village, looking neither right nor +left, but we get all we want and more—for giving is a great merit. When we +return to the <i>kyoung</i> we have our big midday meal, and then for a few +hours I meditate again. The life suits me. It’s a different country from India, +with its blazing sun and great bare plains; there the people seldom has a smile +on them. Here they are always laughing; here all is green and beautiful, with +fine aisy times for flowers and birds and beasts. There’s peace and kindness. +Oh! it’s a fine change from knocking about in barracks and cantonments, +drilling and route-marching and sweating your soul out. By the way, have ye the +talisman I give you?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you mean the brown stone—yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That stone was slipped into my begging-bowl one day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much of a find as an eatable!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, though according to fairy tales the likes has dropped out of +people’s mouths before now. Ye may not suspicion the truth, but it’s a fine big +ruby! I believe it was found stuck in red mud in the ruby district, and someone +who had a wish for me dropped it into the <i>patta</i>, and I—who have a wish +for you—pass it on.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if it is so valuable I could not dream of accepting such a gift,” +protested Shafto. “You will have to take it back—thanks awfully, all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ye never rightly know the price of them stones till they are cut; but the +knowledgeable man I showed it to said it might be worth a couple of thousand +pounds, and I’ve come to tell ye this—so that ye can turn it into coin—and if +ye wanted to get out of Burma, there ye are!” +</p> + +<p> +“That <i>is</i> most awfully good of you, but I really could not think of +accepting your treasure, or its value in money—and I have no wish to leave +Burma, the country suits me all right.” +</p> + +<p> +As he ceased speaking Shafto got up, unlocked a leather dispatch box and +produced the ruby, which he placed in the large, well-kept hand of the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, I call this entirely too bad!” the latter exclaimed as he turned it +over. “An’ I need not tell ye that I can make no use of the ruby, being vowed +to poverty—which you are not; and I want to offer some small return for what ye +did for me last time I was down in Rangoon. I can’t think what ails ye to be so +stiff-necked; is there nothing at all I can do for ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mung Baw, since you put it like that, I believe you could give me what +would be far more use than a stone—some valuable help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Valuable help!” repeated the <i>pongye</i>, adjusting false horn spectacles +and staring hard. “Then as far as it’s in me power the help of every bone in me +body is yours and at your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. Now, tell me, have you ever heard of the cocaine trade in Burma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it cocaine? To be sure! It’s playing the mischief in Rangoon and all over +the country.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to lend a hand in stopping it; if we could only discover the +headquarters of the trade, it would be worth a thousand rubies.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a sort of notion I could put me finger on a man that runs the concern; +ever since he come into Burma he has been pushing the world before him and +doing a great business. From my position, being part native, part British, part +civilian, and more or less a priest of the country and clever at languages, +I’ve learnt a few things I was never intinded to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I expect you have picked up some facts about cocaine smuggling?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true, though I never let it soak into me mind; but from this out I +promise ye I’ll meditate upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you can help the police to burst up this abominable traffic you will +deserve to go to the highest heaven in the Buddhist faith.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll do my best; I can say no fairer. I’m sorry ye won’t take the +ruby,”—turning it over regretfully. “Maybe your young lady would fancy it? It +would look fine in a ring!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have no young lady, Mung Baw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” He paused as if to consider the truth of this statement, cleared +his throat and went on: “The other day, when I was down by the lake, I saw a +young fellow, the very spit of yourself, riding alongside of a mighty pretty +girl on a good-looking bay thoroughbred?” +</p> + +<p> +Here he again paused, apparently awaiting a reply, but none being forthcoming, +resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“And now, before I go, I want to give ye what ye can’t refuse or return—and +that’s a wise word. It was not entirely the ruby stone as brought me here—it +was some loose talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Loose talk, Mung Baw, and you a Buddhist priest! I’m astonished!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, talk straight out of Fraser Street, my son. Many of our priests are holy +saints; altogether too good to live; with no thought whatever of the +world—given over entirely to prayer and self-denial, blameless and without one +wicked thought; but there does be others that is totally different. ’Tis the +same in a regiment—good soldiers and blackguards. Some of the <i>pongyes</i>, +when the prayers is done, spend all their days gossiping, chewing betel nut and +raking through bazaar—<i>mud</i>!” Then suddenly he leant forward and stared at +his companion as if he were searching for something in his face, as he asked: +“Do you happen to know a girl called ‘Ma Chit’?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto moved uneasily in his creaking wicker chair; after a moment’s hesitation +he replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let her put the ‘Comether’ on you! These Burmese dolls have a wonderful +way with them. She’s a gabby little monkey, and they say she has chucked +Bernard and taken a terrible fancy to you! I would be main sorry to see you +mixed up with one of these young devils—for I know you are a straight-living +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is not the smallest chance of my being what you call ‘mixed up’ with any +young devil,” said Shafto in a sulky voice. “As for Ma Chit—she is not the sort +you suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, may be not,” rejoined the <i>pongye</i> in a dubious tone. “Still, I know +Burma—lock, stock and barrel, and a sight better nor you. Av course, I never +spake to a woman and give them all a wide berth—but I cannot keep me ears shut. +Listen to me, sir. These young torments have no scruple. Ma Chit is dead set on +you, and that’s the pure truth. Now, there’s one thing I ask and beg—never take +or smoke a cigarette she might offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not likely! I only smoke Egyptians, or a pipe. But tell me—why am I to refuse +Ma Chit’s cigarettes?” +</p> + +<p> +“The reason is this, and a good one—these black scorpions employ what they call +‘love charms.’ Oh yes, laugh, laugh, laugh away! But one of these charms would +soon make you laugh the wrong side of your mouth. They are deadly, let me tell +you; a cigarette loaded with a certain drug has been the ruin of more than one +fine young fellow. I disremember the name of the stuff—it begins with an ‘M,’ +and is surely made in hell itself, for it drives a man stark mad. Once he +smokes it he falls into a pit and is lost for ever, body and soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, I say, isn’t this a bit too thick, Mung Baw?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you ask the doctors. There’s a good few cases of lunacy and suicide in +this country—all caused by a love charm; so when Ma Chit sidles up, showing her +teeth, and offers you a smoke—you will know what to do. Now,” concluded the +visitor, scrambling to his feet, “I must be on the move. I am stopping for a +while at the big Pongye Kyoung, near the Turtle Tank, and if you should happen +to be riding round that way, we might have a talk on this cocaine business. If +I am to go into it, neck and crop, I can’t be coming about here—as it would +excite suspicion.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right then; I’ll turn up and you will report progress; but how am I to +spot you among the crowd of priests?” +</p> + +<p> +“Easy enough!” replied Mung Baw, drawing himself up to his full height; “I’m +the tallest <i>pongye</i> in Rangoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, no doubt. Burmese are a bit undersized.” +</p> + +<p> +“But fine, able-bodied fellows. I suppose you’ve seen the wrestlers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Now, before you go, can I get you a drink or a smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as for a smoke, I’m thinking your tobacco would not be strong enough for +me, but I don’t say that I wouldn’t like a drink, although I am a sober man; +just the least little taste of whisky and water, as a sort of souvenir of old +times. Ye might bring it in here, for I don’t want them native chaps makin’ a +scandal about me.” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the <i>pongye</i> had been secretly supplied with a fairly moderate +souvenir, he resumed his sandals, picked up his umbrella and begging-bowl and, +with a military salute to Shafto, swept down the rickety stairs. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap30"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br/> +ENLIGHTENMENT</h2> + +<p> +Miss Fuschia Bliss was still in Rangoon and, as she modestly expressed it, +“crawling round, on approval.” She had brought letters of introduction to the +Lieutenant-Governor, the Pomeroys, and the Gregorys. Sir Horace and Lady Winter +had no young people, so she presently passed on to the Pomeroys, who in their +turn reluctantly yielded their guest to Mrs. Gregory. +</p> + +<p> +Hosts and hostesses were only too glad to secure the company of Miss Bliss, a +girl who had seen so many strange countries, and noticed so much with her sharp +eyes, that her inferences and original remarks were equally novel and +interesting. Fuchsia’s society was invigorating, and the American could easily +have put in twelve months in Burma if so disposed. But one obstacle—and one +only—interposed, and detained her from joining her friends in Cairo. (This is +in the strictest confidence.) She was awaiting the moment when that great, big +stupid Irishman would speak! +</p> + +<p> +Although Fuchsia looked no more than two- or three-and-twenty, eight-and-twenty +summers had passed over her ash-coloured head. She had received an excellent +education, had travelled far, and was as experienced and worldly-wise as any +matron of fifty. Indeed, in natural wit and the art of putting two and two +together, she was considerably ahead of most of her sex. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory enjoyed having young people with her, but her mornings were +engaged. She had a hand in the principal benevolent societies in the place; was +treasurer of this, or secretary of that, apart from her house-keeping and large +correspondence, so that she was rarely at liberty before tiffin; therefore +Fuchsia had all the forenoon to herself, and spent the time visiting her girl +friends or shopping in the bazaar. The heiress had hired a motor, a little +two-seater that she could drive, and with respect to locomotion was entirely +independent of her hostess. No one in Fuchsia’s circle received so many visits +as Sophy Leigh; she was fond of Sophy, and frequently turned up at “Heidelberg” +to tiffin or to tea, although she did not care about the set of people that she +met there—stout German ladies with somewhat aggressive manners, or second-rate +women from the fringe of Society. Everyone of these was, in the eyes of the +little American democrat, an “Outsider.” Fuchsia was fastidious, an aristocrat +to her finger-tips, and it was no drawback to Pat FitzGerald that his maternal +uncle was an earl. +</p> + +<p> +“How could Sophy tolerate these stupid people,” Fuchsia asked herself, “with +their sharp, probing questions and heavy jokes? Why did Mrs. Krauss invite +them?” +</p> + +<p> +And here she came to yet another question: What was the matter with Mrs. +Krauss? There was something strange and mysterious about her ailment; her +attacks were so fitful; now she appeared brilliant and vivacious, with gleams +of her former great beauty, the gracious and agreeable hostess; again, her +condition was that of sheer indifference and semi-torpor. And who was the +officious and familiar ayah, her attendant and shadow, an obtrusive creature +with bold black eyes and a resolute mouth? Why did she speak so authoritatively +to her mistress? Why did she wear such handsome jewellery and expensive silk +saris, heavily fringed with gold, and strut about with such an air of +importance? +</p> + +<p> +Lily appeared to have enormous influence with Mrs. Krauss—she knew something! +She held some secret. This was the conclusion at which Fuchsia the shrewd +arrived, after she had paid a good many visits to “Heidelberg.” +</p> + +<p> +Fuchsia, with her long chin resting on her hand, set her active brain and cool +judgment to work. She recalled a certain scene one evening when she had driven +over in her car to take Sophy to the theatre, and was sitting in the veranda +half hidden by a screen, awaiting her friend, whilst Mrs. Krauss, lying prone +upon the sofa, fanned herself with a languid hand. Presently, from a doorway, +Lily noiselessly drifted in. She was amazingly light-footed for her bulk. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, it is nine o’clock,” she said, addressing her mistress, “and you have got +to go to bed.” Her voice was sharp and authoritative. The reply came in a low +murmur of expostulation. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to the Pagoda to-night,” continued Lily, “but you will be all right. +As soon as you are undressed you shall have your <i>dose</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this promise Mrs. Krauss furled her fan, rose from the sofa with +astonishing alacrity, and followed her ayah as commanded. +</p> + +<p> +Now the question that puzzled Fuchsia was, what was the nature of the dose? It +must have been something agreeable, or Mrs. Krauss would not have bounded off +the sofa and hurried away—and who would rush for a dose of quinine or even the +fashionable petrol? Undoubtedly the dose was a drug—some enervating and +insidious drug. This would amply account for the lady’s lethargy and languor. +The crafty Fuchsia threw out several feelers to her hostess on the subject of +“Heidelberg”—she wondered whether anyone shared her suspicions. Certainly Mrs. +Gregory did not, but sincerely lamented her neighbour’s miserable health, and +deplored her obstinacy in remaining season after season in Rangoon. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather a dull house for poor Sophy,” suggested her friend; “when her aunt +has one of her bad attacks she sees no visitors for days. Mr. Krauss is absent +from morning till night—not that I consider his absence any loss, for I dislike +him more than words can express.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I can’t say that I am one of his admirers,” admitted Mrs. Gregory; “but +I agree with you that Sophy has some long and lonely hours; she can come over +here whenever she pleases, and she cannot come too often, for she is a dear +girl, and I would be glad to have her altogether. You know she and I were +house-mates up at May Myo, and when you live with another person in a small +bungalow that is your opportunity to get down to the bed-rock of character.” +</p> + +<p> +It was about a week after the elephants had been transported across the river, +and Sophy and Fuchsia were sitting in the latter’s bedroom at the “Barn.” Sophy +was altering a hat for her companion; she was remarkably clever in this line, +and a surprising quantity of her friends’ millinery had passed through her +fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Shafto had a narrow squeak this day week,” remarked Fuchsia, who was +lounging in a chair, doing nothing. “Did you hear someone say that he was +<i>pushed</i> in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! By accident—or on purpose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whichever you please; the result was the same.” Then, after a considerable +pause, she added significantly: +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he knows too much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too much of what?” asked Sophy, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there are many secrets in Rangoon,” said Fuchsia, nodding her head; “I +have grasped that, although I have only been here two months, and you a whole +year. Have you never noticed anything? Have you no suspicions about people?” +</p> + +<p> +“No—not of anything that matters. I suspect that the eldest Miss Wiggin rouges +and darkens her eyebrows, that Lady Puffle wears a wig, and that the Grahams +are thoroughly sick of their paying guest. But you are ten times cleverer than +I am, Fuchsia, and, according to Mr. Gregory, singularly intelligent and +acute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Acute—rubbish!” Fuchsia dismissed the idea with a gesture of her tiny hand. +“I’m not thinking of wigs, or paint, or such piffle. Say, have you never heard +of the cocaine business?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; Mr. Shafto is tremendously keen on the subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pat FitzGerald is mad about it, too, and is having a great big try to rope in +the boss smugglers. He has told me the most terrible tales. Once the drug—it’s +cocaine and morphia mixed—gets a fast hold of a man, or woman, he or she is +doomed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Fuchsia, surely not so bad as that!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s true; the poor thieve to get a few annas to spend in the dens; the rich +and educated buy it by stealth, and absorb it at home in secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are the symptoms?” inquired Sophy. “Have you ever seen anyone who took +those drugs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I could not say,” she answered evasively; “but I am aware that the +symptoms are unaccountable drowsiness and lethargy, followed by a deathlike +sleep, and, they say, the most <i>heavenly</i> dreams. Later, the dreamer wakes +up, haggard, feverish, and miserable; the skin has a dried, shrunken look. And +you can always tell a drug-taker by the eyes; the pupil is either as small as a +pin’s point or else enormously enlarged.” +</p> + +<p> +Fuchsia glanced sharply at Sophy, who was carefully manipulating a large bow. +</p> + +<p> +Was she recalling a domestic picture? Did any suspicion sink into her simple +mind? If such was the case the girl gave no sign. +</p> + +<p> +“These drug-maniacs’ lives are a real burden,” continued Fuchsia; “they become +indolent and slovenly; all they want in the whole world is more, and more, and +more—cocaine. The effect on some is to clear and stimulate the brain and, for a +short time, they seem superhuman; but soon this marvellous illumination that +has flared up dies down like a fire of straw, and leaves them nothing but the +cold ashes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fuchsia,” said her companion, suddenly raising her head and gazing at her +steadily, “I believe you are thinking of someone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me who it is.” +</p> + +<p> +But Fuchsia merely looked down on the ground and maintained an unusual silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know anyone that the cap fits?” persisted Sophy. Then, with a quick +movement, she put the hat aside and, confronting her companion, said, +“Surely—surely, you don’t mean <i>Aunt Flora</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +Fuchsia’s reply was a slow, deliberate nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Fuchsia, this is too dreadful—how can you? Tell me—why you have such a +hideous suspicion?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right then, I will,” and Fuchsia sat bolt upright. “I’m older than you +are, and have knocked about the world a bit, and I can’t help seeing things +that are thrust under my nose and drawing an inference. I must tell you that my +grandfather was a notable lawyer, and who knows but that a scrap of his mantle +may not have descended upon me! Now to answer your question right away—you will +admit that pretty often your aunt is dressed like a last year’s scarecrow; that +she is drowsy, stupefied, and generally inaccessible. At another time she is +real smart and vivacious, and puts other women in the shade. Then suddenly she +disappears, shuts herself up along with Lily ayah, and not a soul may approach +her—no, not even you. Undoubtedly Lily provides the drug and is handsomely +paid. I ask you to look at her jewels and her diamond nose-ring. Your aunt +refuses to see a doctor, for a doctor would diagnose her case the instant he +set eyes on her; she also refuses to quit Rangoon, and why? Because she would +be torn away from what is killing her inch by inch—and that is cocaine!” +</p> + +<p> +By the time Fuchsia had ended this speech Sophy’s face was colourless, and, as +she unconsciously stroked a piece of ribbon between her fingers, many facts in +support of Fuchsia’s verdict flocked into her brain and forced themselves upon +her comprehension. She had a conviction that what her friend had just told her +was neither more nor less than a dreadful truth. An instant of clear vision had +come; scales had fallen from her eyes; she recalled those strange excursions to +Ah Shee’s stifling den, the purchase of ivories so soon thrown aside; +undoubtedly this collection of netsukes was a blind—her aunt’s real object was +to procure <i>drugs</i>! +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid this is an awful blow to you, Sophy,” resumed Fuchsia, “and you +will think I had no business to crowd in; but it is best that you should have +your eyes opened before it is too late. What do you think yourself, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +There was an agonising pause. Self-deception was no longer possible. With an +effort she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid what you have told me is terribly true; it was stupid of me not to +have guessed at something of the sort. I see things clearly now that you have +put them before my eyes. Many puzzles are explained—the reason Aunt Flora keeps +herself isolated; the reason why she has no really intimate friends; the reason +why she is so untidy in her dress at times and talks so strangely. I suppose +Mr. Krauss knows?” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” replied Fuchsia with emphasis, “I have watched him carefully, and I don’t +believe he has the faintest suspicion, any more than you had yourself. Your +aunt’s ayah, and possibly the cook, are fellow-conspirators, and no doubt the +cause of ‘the Missis’s’ long strange illness is common talk in the compound.” +</p> + +<p> +“What can be done to cure it? Oh, Fuchsia, <i>do</i> advise me!” +</p> + +<p> +“If I were to offer you one piece of advice you would not take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at least allow me to hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is to clear out of the house altogether and return home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall certainly not take that advice; I was invited to Rangoon to be a +companion to Aunt Flora, and the moment that I find she has something frightful +to fight against is surely not the time for me to run away and leave her in the +lurch. No, I shall stay here and do what I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, if you only could; but, my dear girl, I’m afraid it is too late. I have +been questioning Pat FitzGerald—of course without letting him know that I had +any ‘case’ in my mind’s eye. From what I have gathered, Mrs. Krauss has been +taking this drug for a long time—and is past all help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do you mean, Fuchsia, that I am to sit by, utterly helpless, whilst my +aunt slowly puts herself to death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you might try various things. You could make it your business to +find out and destroy the hypodermic syringe—or perhaps your aunt takes it in +pellets. I should interview the ayah and inform her that you know the nature of +her mistress’s complaint; threaten that you will tell Mr. Krauss and have her +discharged. I expect she gets enormous wages and has feathered her nest +handsomely. If you could inveigle your aunt into taking a voyage to Australia, +that might be of use. But these are just suggestions; in any way that I can +help or back you up I will. All the same, I must return to my first statement, +which is, that no matter how you strive, and hope and fear, your effort will +come too <i>late</i>.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap31"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br/> +SEEING IS BELIEVING</h2> + +<p> +The recent enlightenment had given Sophy a painful shock; thoughts troublesome +and insistent buzzed about her all day long and kept her awake at night. At +first she had wept and abandoned herself to misery; then she summoned her +strength and will and made plans, hoping that she would have the courage to +carry them out. She resolved to invade her aunt’s bedroom and discover the true +state of affairs. During the last two or three days Mrs. Krauss had withdrawn +into seclusion, being threatened with one of her so-called “attacks.” On these +occasions no one but Lily was permitted to cross the threshold of her +apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Late on the following evening, when the house was quiet and the servants had +departed to their <i>godowns</i>, or the bazaar, and the “missy” was supposed +to have retired, Sophy slipped on a dressing-gown and soft slippers and made +her way into the anteroom, usually occupied in the day-time by her aunt, now +dimly illuminated by one electric light. Before the door of the next apartment +hung a heavy curtain which, when drawn aside, revealed a thick darkness, a +peculiar odour, and the sound of rapid breathing. Sophy groped with her hand +along the wall, found the switch, and the room and its contents were instantly +revealed. A richly-carved bedstead, a masterpiece of Burmese work, stood in the +middle of the floor; at either side were small tables, one heaped with an +untidy pile of books and magazines; on the other were bottles, glasses and +little boxes. In turning the switch Sophy had lit the bulb which hung directly +over Mrs. Krauss’s couch, and there, by its pitiless glare, she lay fully +exposed, sunken in a sleep resembling a swoon, her splendid black hair lying +loose upon the pillows. She looked woefully old and shrunken, her arms, +displayed by an open-sleeved silk nightgown, were thin and strangely +discoloured. +</p> + +<p> +As Sophy stood surveying the scene the bathroom door opened softly and Lily +stepped over the threshold. “Oh, my missy! Whatever are you doing here?” she +exclaimed, throwing up her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I am searching for the hypodermic syringe by which you reduce my aunt,” +pointing to the bed, “to this horrible condition. Come with me, Lily,” leading +the way to the outer room. “I have something to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +The ayah’s face was almost green; she was shaking all over, but after a +moment’s hesitation she ultimately obeyed in sullen silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I was not aware until two days ago,” resumed Sophy, “that my aunt took drugs +and that you supplied them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what the missy is talking about,” stammered Lily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, you understand, and Mr. Krauss will understand. At present he has no +idea of my aunt’s real ailment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Missy going to tell <i>him</i>? Well, if I am sent away to Madras and the drug +taken from the missis she will soon die—you will see!” +</p> + +<p> +Lily’s tone was more triumphant than regretful. +</p> + +<p> +“She will die anyway,” rejoined Sophy, “and it were better that she should die +in her senses than a drugged victim to cocaine. How long has this been going +on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two, three years—maybe four years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Four years!” repeated Sophy incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, missis plenty sick—no sleep getting; doctor ordering small dose sleep +mixture; missis liking too much, taking more and more, and more.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have kept her supplied—you get it from Ah Shee?” +</p> + +<p> +“If not me, then some other woman. I plenty fond of missis and I kept her +secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“And, no doubt, she has paid you well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, giving money; but too much trouble to get morphia and cocaine and to keep +people from talk. One or two times she took too big dose, and then nearly +die—but missis will have it all the same—die or no die!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, if I promise you one thing will you promise me another? I will not +say a word to Mr. Krauss if you will agree to buy no more cocaine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will promise not to give so much; but no more cocaine taking at all, missis +would shrivel up and go out like one bit of paper in a candle! I will do what I +can, missy, but missis always taking plenty—two grains is nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am astonished,” said Sophy, “that my aunt has never been suspected of taking +drugs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Missy, you never suspect it yourself, and yet you have lived in same house for +fifteen months. It was hard to keep it dark, but all the servants know. Of +course, that is no matter, and as for the big mem-sahibs, they do not come here +<i>now</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems so strange,” said Sophy, “that my aunt should have sunk into this +state—all through one little dose of morphia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see, missy, she was ill; it was in the rains; she was awfullee +melancholy and depressed, and she had not much to fill her mind. She did not +sew or ride or make music, like you do. Mr. Krauss was away, she was sick and +lonely, and so she got the doctor’s prescription made up over and over again. +If she could have gone to Europe two years ago she might have cured herself of +taking the stuff. Two—three times she has begun to stop it, but it was no good. +I have talked to her and given her wise words and tried to help her—and +<i>cheat</i> her, but she always found me out; so all I can do or have done is +to stand between her and the other mem-sahibs and hide her—trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +The sound of light footsteps stealing across the veranda caused Lily to +pause—then she added under her breath: +</p> + +<p> +“It is that Moti ayah, missy; she very cunning, same like little snake and we +had better go. I will keep my promise, though it will be plenty bother; I am +glad that you know—for it will make business more easy for me now there is one +less to hide it from.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus the conspirators parted, Sophy having maintained from first to last her +mastery of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before Mrs. Krauss became aware, more by instinct than actual +knowledge, that her niece had discovered the real cause of her illness. One +evening as Sophy bent over to kiss her and say good night, she took her hand in +both of hers and, with tears trickling down her face, whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Sophy darling, I’ve tried—it’s no use; whatever happens, keep it from +<i>him</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +And this was the sole occasion on which Aunt Flora ever alluded to her failing. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap32"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br/> +ON DUTY</h2> + +<p> +The veil that shrouded her aunt’s secret being now withdrawn, by a strange +paradox a heavy cloud of darkness descended upon Sophy; she seemed to have +suddenly passed from a warm glow of sunlight into a cold shadow-land of mystery +and fear. Before Herr Krauss and the outer world she still carried a buoyant +standard of false high spirits. Her rippling laughter and cheerful repartees +were to be heard where young people were assembled at the Gymkhana, or +elsewhere; but this Sophy wore another aspect when she sat on duty in her +aunt’s bedroom, whiling away restlessness and want of sleep with reading and +talk, and even cards. Many a time the dawn was breaking before she was at +liberty to go to bed. No wonder that she looked pale and fagged—no wonder +people gazed at her keenly and inquired about her health. It is not easy even +for a girl of two-and-twenty thus to burn the candle at both ends! Riding, +dancing, and playing tennis in the daytime, and then sitting up half the night, +with a restless and fretful patient. It was <i>this</i> Sophy who conferred so +long and earnestly with Lily ayah, respecting methods to be adopted, pretences +effected, infinitesimal doses exchanged for the usual amount, and the patient +craftily beguiled—but it is almost impossible to beguile a person who is +suffering from the fierce craving for a drug; and the want of her normal supply +soon began to make itself apparent in Mrs. Krauss, and there were not a few +exhausting scenes. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy found it necessary to take her ayah Moti into her confidence—a +humiliating obligation (as it happened, Moti had always been in the secret), +and among the three it was arranged that the mistress of the house was to be +watched and never left alone. Occasionally Mrs. Krauss had disputes and +dreadful altercations with Lily; but by degrees she appeared to acquiesce; her +strength was unequal to a prolonged struggle, and the victim of cocaine would +throw herself down on her bed and moan like some dying animal. These moans +pierced the heart of her unhappy niece. +</p> + +<p> +Herr Krauss was seldom at home, but, when in residence, his personality +obtruded itself in all directions, and it was surprising to Sophy that he never +noticed any cause for anxiety in his wife’s appearance, she looked so ill and +emaciated; it was true that he was preoccupied with important affairs, and that +he only saw her of an evening when the lights were shaded. She still appeared +in the afternoon and at dinner, particularly if they were alone. When she +received visitors, especially her German neighbours, Sophy felt exceedingly +uncomfortable. It seemed to her—although this might be imagination—that the +ladies exchanged coughs and significant glances, and noticed the trembling hand +with which Mrs. Krauss helped herself to cake, her sudden lapses into silence, +her abrupt interruptions and cavernous yawns. For years Mrs. Krauss had been at +home once a week to her German neighbours. They are a gregarious nation, and +the “Kaffee-Gesellschaft”—an afternoon affair, beginning at four o’clock—is +greatly beloved by German women. Here they enjoy strong coffee, chocolate +flavoured with vanilla and whipped cream, and every description of rich cake. +These coffee parties are generally an orgy of scandal, and that at “Heidelberg” +was no exception. Whether Mrs. Krauss was well or ill, the guests never failed +to arrive. It was a standing institution and enjoyed their approval and +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +One bright hope upheld Sophy; Herr Krauss now talked of returning home—that is, +to Germany. +</p> + +<p> +“Business is booming, my dear old lady; I shall close down, and we will all +depart. You have been in Burma too long, but in six months we shall be aboard +the mail boat and watch the gold Pagoda gradually sinking out of sight. I shall +take a handsome place in the neighbourhood of Frankfort, and entertain all my +good friends. Then we will make music, and eat, drink, and be merry.” +</p> + +<p> +His talk was invariably in this hopeful strain; he never exhibited the least +anxiety with regard to his wife’s illness; it had become her normal condition, +and he spoke of it as “that confounded neuralgia” and cursed the Burmese +climate. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy listened and marvelled, and yet she herself had been equally dense. +Neuralgia covers various infirmities, just as the cloak of charity covers a +multitude of sins. She had become excessively sensitive and suspicious, a sort +of domestic detective—a post that was by no means to her taste. She had thought +long and earnestly over the situation, and from her reflections emerged the +solid word “Duty.” It was her duty to fight for her aunt, to contend against +the demon drug—and fight she did. Oh, if she could only maintain the struggle +until her charge was en route home, what a victory! +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Krauss never alluded to her illness—a remarkable contrast to many +invalids; but one afternoon, as Sophy sat beside her in the dimly-lit lounge, +she suddenly broke an unusually long silence: +</p> + +<p> +“Life is very difficult, Sophy, my dear; death is easy, and I shall soon know +all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Aunt Flo, why do you say this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, before long, I shall die. Karl is full of great plans and talks of +our wonderful future. I see no future for myself in Europe; I shall remain +behind when you and he go down the Irrawaddy—but I am not afraid. On the +contrary, I look forward.” +</p> + +<p> +“As for death, I hope you are mistaken, Aunt Flora, but I confess that yours is +a most enviable frame of mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is, dear, I suppose, from living so long in the East, I have imbibed some +of the people’s ideas. In all the world these Burmans cannot be matched for +their radiant cheerfulness—they make the best of the present, and, as they say, +‘merely die to live again.’ There is not one of them who does not believe in +and speak of his past life, and look forward to a future existence; this is why +they wear such an air of happiness and contentment.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do you really believe there is anything in this comfortable faith, Aunt +Flora?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear, I have a sincere confidence that my soul, not this miserable +wicked body, will live again, and be given an opportunity of being better in +another world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at any rate that is a consoling creed. For my own part, I know little +about Buddhism, but I can see that the Burmans are a religious people, much +given to worship and offerings, and with a good deal of gaiety in their +ceremonies; but, Aunt Flora, although they are delightfully picturesque, and so +merry and cheerful, as a mass they are terribly pleasure-loving and lazy; no +Burman will work if he can help it; even the women are difficult to get hold +of. Mrs. Blake, who is in the District, told me that her ayah, who never +exerted herself, had put in for a <i>year’s</i> holiday and rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what had that to do with religion, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just this—that they are as a race too indolant and easy-going to study any big +question, or to take the trouble to think for themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what about the hundreds and thousands of holy priests who spend all their +lives in profound meditation? What do you say to that? Come now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say that they live a life of incorrigible idleness; they have no need to +maintain themselves; they just eat, and sit, and muse; everything is supplied +to them, including their yellow robe and betel nut. Their religion is selfish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, I’m too stupid to argue, my dear child, my brain is like cotton +wool; but I have my hopes, my sure hopes. Karl is different. He is cultured, he +reads Marx and Hegel, and says we are like cabbages and have no future; when we +go it is as a candle that is blown out. Oh, here are visitors! What a bore! I +shall not appear! Run and tell the bearer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but these are your own special old friends, Mrs. Vansittart and Mrs. +Dowler. <i>Do</i> let them come in; they will amuse you—poor dears, you know +they always call after dark.” +</p> + +<p> +These visitors, friends of former days, were social derelicts, who had, so to +speak, “gone ashore” in Rangoon. One was chained to Burma by dire poverty and a +drunken husband; the other, who had been a wealthy woman of considerable local +importance, was now a childless widow, supporting herself with difficulty by +means of a second-rate boarding-house. To these old friends, and in many other +cases, Mrs. Krauss had proved a generous and tactful helper. Both visitors were +wearing costumes which had been worn and admired at “Heidelberg” and were still +fairly presentable. +</p> + +<p> +After a stay of an hour the ladies withdrew, leaving their hostess well +entertained but completely exhausted. Then they hastily sought out Sophy in +order to express to her, in private, their horror at the terrible change in her +aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Her spirit is there all right,” said Mrs. Dowler (who had a hundred-rupee note +in her glove), “but oh, my dear Miss Leigh, <i>how</i> she’s wasted! I felt +like crying all the time I was sitting with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she should see a doctor, and that this very day,” added Mrs. Vansittart. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you know Aunt Flora,” protested Sophy; “she cannot bear doctors, and +Lily, her ayah, knows pretty well what to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Miss Leigh, what is the real truth about your aunt’s illness?” said +Mrs. Dowler, suddenly dropping her voice to a mysterious whisper. “It has been +so long and so tedious—off and on for at least three years. She has been worse +the last four months, and indeed ever since you went up to May Myo. It is not a +malignant growth, please God?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, nothing of that sort; just weakness and this relaxing climate.” +</p> + +<p> +“She should have returned home years ago,” said Mrs. Vansittart; “and when she +does go—oh, it will be a bad day and a sad day for me and many others, not to +speak of all the animals she has befriended. She is wonderfully sympathetic to +dumb creatures and indeed to everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” echoed her companion, “no one knows of your aunt’s good deeds +and charities, not even her own servants, and that is saying <i>everything</i>. +Her hand has raised many an unfortunate out of the dust.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus whispering, advising and hoping and bemoaning, the two ladies were +conducted by Sophy to their jointly-hired <i>ticka gharry</i>, and were +presently rattled away. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy, too, had her own particular visitors, Mabel Pomeroy, Mrs. Gregory and +Fuchsia—Fuchsia, almost daily. To her it seemed that Sophy’s confidences were +frozen; she rarely mentioned her aunt, and gave evasive answers to her friend’s +probing inquiries. At last the brave American spoke out: +</p> + +<p> +“You are frightfully changed, my Sophy girl—changed in a month. You have become +so dull and absent-minded, and have lost all your pretty colour. Of course, +<i>I</i> know the reason, but you can do no good—no, not a scrap. You had much +better have gone home when you discovered the secret—you are as thin as a +walking-stick, and look as if you sat up all night and never went to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, even if I did and, mind you, I’m not saying that I do, it is no worse +for my health than dancing all night, is it? I’m very fond of Aunt Flora, and +I’d do more than that for her.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has added years to your life; the gay flitting-about Sophy, with her +pretty kittenish ways and harmless claws, has been thrust in a sack—and +drowned!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I do think you might have given her Christian burial,” protested Sophy +with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Christian burial brings me to the Marriage Service. What do you think—that +great stupid Irishman, has at last blundered out a proposal, and in me,” rising +and making a curtsey, “you behold the future Mrs. Patrick FitzGerald.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Fuchsia!” jumping up to embrace her, “I do congratulate you, and I do hope +you will be very happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I believe we shall. I have money and he——” she hesitated, and Sophy +added: +</p> + +<p> +“Has a warm, kind heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, I was about to say <i>looks</i>, but I’ll throw in the heart as +well! Next week I am going up to Calcutta to see about the trousseau and +business. I’m real sorry to be the means of smashing up the Chummery +Quartette.” +</p> + +<p> +“And when does the blow fall?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for some time; Patsy has asked for a long day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fuchsia!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no, it’s not that; but he’s obliged to finish some inspections. He +really is fond of me—I dare say he’s not as fond of me as Shafto is of someone! +But <i>his</i> is a more serious, rigid character. If someone would smile, he +would melt like a shovelful of snow on a coal fire!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Fuchsia, do give your imagination a rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe you are right, and my tongue, too. I’ve only just one thing more to +say,” she paused and walked into the veranda in silence. +</p> + +<p> +In silence Sophy followed her down to the car and, as she tucked in the +knee-sheet, she raised her eyes and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What is this wonderful last word?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I think ‘Sophy Shafto’ would be a nice easy name to say.” +</p> + +<p> +In another second Fuchsia’s car had panted away and nothing remained of her +visit but a cloud of red dust. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap33"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br/> +SOPHY</h2> + +<p> +Sophy had a difficult part to act—in fact no less than three separate roles: +one with her aunt, one with Herr Krauss, and a third in public. Those who saw +Miss Leigh dancing and playing tennis at the Gymkhana, little guessed how she +spent the remainder of the day, soothing and interesting a fretful invalid, or +sitting up half the night on duty—and on guard. Herr Krauss was frequently from +home, being incessantly engaged in winding up his affairs. Business took him +one week to Moulmein, the next to Calcutta. This fat, elderly man displayed a +sort of volcanic energy; he lived in a fever of repressed excitement and +scarcely gave himself time to gobble his huge meals. Numbers of +people—principally natives—pressed for interviews; one or two arrived in fine +motor-cars; evidently it was not a European business that appeared to absorb +all his time and faculties. However, whatever its nationality, Herr Krauss was +happy and exultant; there was an expression of assured triumph upon his +frog-like visage. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally this triple life left its mark on Sophy, though she kept her miseries +and responsibilities to herself. Mrs. Gregory and other friends put their heads +together and decided that she looked ill and careworn; and the ever-active +Fuchsia laid certain information before Shafto, with the result that the +following day he arrived at “Heidelberg” to make a formal call. Of late he +found that he could never have a word with Miss Leigh; she rarely rode in the +morning and was seldom to be seen at the Gymkhana, and so he, as Fuchsia had +suggested, “bearded the lioness in her den”—that is, he called at “Heidelberg” +between the orthodox hours of four and five. +</p> + +<p> +“This is very formal,” exclaimed Sophy, as he entered the somewhat dusky +drawing-room; “visiting hour and visiting card complete. What does it mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“It merely means that I wish to see you,” replied Shafto; “I can never get a +look in elsewhere. One would almost think that you avoided me and wanted to cut +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a ridiculous idea!” she exclaimed, sitting down and motioning him to a +chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it does seem ridiculous that we see so very little of you. I hope you +are not ill?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed, why should I be ill? Do I look like an invalid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Since you ask me, I don’t think you seem particularly fit. How is Mrs. +Krauss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, much the same. Sometimes she is able to be out in the car and sits in the +veranda; other days she cannot appear at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you and Herr Krauss are <i>tête-à-tête</i>! How do you get on together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pretty well. I only see him at breakfast and dinner, and we talk about +food and cooking and the servants. It’s all right when he is alone, but when he +brings friends to dinner it is rather disagreeable. I understand German now and +am able to make out the hateful things they say about us as a nation. Naturally +I stick up for my own country. I talk to them in English—they gabble to me in +German, and we make an awful clatter. Herr Krauss looks on, or joins in, and +roars and bangs the table. I am fighting one to five, and with my back to the +wall! They are full of facts that I cannot dispute—not being posted up in +statistics. When I attempt to bring forward our side they interrupt and shout +me down. Now we have declared open war. Last night I got up and left them in +possession of the field, and I have told Herr Krauss that the next time he has +a session I prefer to dine alone. He treats it as a splendid joke and says I am +a silly, ignorant <i>Backfisch</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, a lot of it is trade envy,” said Shafto; “but the Germans, to give +them their due, are energetic, thrifty and pushing, and are taking places in +the sun all over the world. Have you heard from Mrs. Milward lately?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not for some weeks; she writes such amusing letters.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I should imagine. She has a wonderfully elastic mind, and says and does the +very first thing that comes into her head. Do you remember one day on the +<i>Blankshire</i> when, half in joke, she said that we were two young lambs +about to be turned out in strange and unknown pastures, and if one of us got +into any difficulty the other was bound to help?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember perfectly well. It was after Mr. Jones, the missionary, had +been giving us a lecture on what he called ‘Pitfalls in the East.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now I warn you that I’m going to be officious and interfering. I have a +notion that you are in some difficulty. What Mrs. Milward said in joke I repeat +in deadly earnest. If you are in any sort of hole, let me lend a hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why should you imagine that I am in any difficulty or, as you call it, ‘a +hole’?” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy tried to carry it off gaily, but her eyes fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Because you look so changed and depressed and seem to have lost your spirits. +Perhaps, as you have no bodily ailment, there is something on your mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“And who can minister to a mind diseased?” she quoted with a smile. “No, I’m +really normal and absolutely sane.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t put me off,” he protested; “I know there <i>is</i> +something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even if there were, do you expect me to make you my Father Confessor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed; but I do think you might give us a hint—I mean your friends—of +what it is that has come between us.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she found it difficult to answer. At last she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there <i>is</i> something, I admit; something that claims all my time. I +am sorry I cannot tell you more, for it is not my own secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see—it belongs to another.” +</p> + +<p> +Evidently Sophy had discovered the truth at last—a truth that was withering her +youth and crushing her to the earth. His quick eye understood the signs of +strain and fatigue; all life and light had faded from her face, and he realised +that she was, as Fuchsia had described, “terribly changed.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment neither of them spoke; she fidgeted with a turquoise ring—it was +much too loose, or her fingers were much too thin, for it suddenly slipped, +dropped into her lap and then rolled far away upon the floor with an air of +impudent independence. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto, as he searched for and picked up this ring, felt something forcing and +driving him to speak and, after a moment’s reflection, he made up his mind to +dare all. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe I know your secret,” was his bold announcement, as he restored her +property. +</p> + +<p> +“You!” she ejaculated. “That is impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, I can guess,” he said, dropping his voice. +</p> + +<p> +Then he got up and, standing before her with his hands in his pockets, looked +down at her steadily and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“It has to do with a drug.” +</p> + +<p> +At the word drug she winced visibly, and her pale face changed. +</p> + +<p> +“The drug is cocaine,” he went on slowly, “and the victim is—a lady in this +house.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy’s white cheeks were now aflame; bright tears stood in her eyes; she was +passing through a painful crisis. To assent would amount to a betrayal. Should +she put him off with a <i>lie</i>? There seemed to be an interminable pause +before she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say this to me?” she asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“FitzGerald has means of finding out curious facts, and sometimes he tumbles +into a thing by accident; he is mad keen to scotch this cocaine business, and +incidentally discovered that one of Ah Shee’s best customers was—<i>you know +who</i>. She has been procuring the stuff for the last three years. I believe +you have only recently found out the hideous fact, and this accounts for what +anyone can see with half an eye—your look of care and anxiety. I am well aware +that I have undertaken a dangerous mission in coming here to tell you this. +Possibly you may never speak to me again; but I take the risk, because I do +want so very, very badly to be of some use and to stand by you.” +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing for it but to accept the situation, and at last she said: +</p> + +<p> +“The only way in which you can help me is by keeping silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long have you known?” +</p> + +<p> +“About six weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“So now I understand why we see you so seldom at tennis or the paper-chases.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; and now that you <i>do</i> understand, perhaps you will help me and put +people off when they ask tiresome questions.” She spoke with a catch in her +voice. “I scarcely ever leave my aunt. I read and talk and play the piano, and +do my best to keep her amused; I am very fond of Aunt Flora.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be!” he exclaimed sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“But, indeed, she is not so much to blame as you suppose. Think of her +loneliness and illness! Years of this relaxing climate and intense depression +tempted her to seek relief, and once she had touched the drug it gripped her +like a vice and made her a prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whom you are struggling to release? Does Herr Krauss know?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; he has no suspicion. No more had I till recently. Lily, the ayah, Mr. +FitzGerald, you and I, are all that are in the secret.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is much too heavy a load for your shoulders. Won’t you tell Mrs. Gregory? +She is so practical and so safe, and full of clever expedients and energy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shall not open my lips; how could I? Mrs. Gregory is my loyal and kind +friend; but once I began to take people into my confidence, I could never tell +where it would end; soon it might be all over Rangoon that my aunt takes drugs. +As it is I am making a little headway; we have diminished the quantity, and I +have great hopes that the craving is <i>less</i>. Of course, I am obliged +always to be on guard; that is why I am so rarely able to leave home. Herr +Krauss talks of retiring in four months, and if I can only keep Aunt Flora safe +until <i>then</i>, the day of our departure means the day of her escape. And +now, please, let us talk of something more cheerful. I suppose you have heard +about your friend, Mr. FitzGerald, and Miss Bliss?” And she threw him a +charming confidential smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, rather! FitzGerald was in the most awful funk and talked of writing +his proposal, but I choked him off, and told him that it was a cowardly way of +putting his fate to the touch—the telephone would have been better—and that he +must face the music like a man.” +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t be in the least nervous in similar circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, honestly, I would not, if I believed the girl cared two straws about me. +Anyone that wasn’t stone blind could see that Miss Bliss liked FitzGerald; he +is a rattling good sort, and I believe they will suit one another splendidly.” +</p> + +<p> +But Shafto had not come to “Heidelberg” to discuss FitzGerald and his affairs; +he wanted to talk to Sophy about herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I do wish you would confide in Mrs. Gregory,” he urged. “She is a tower of +strength. I don’t think you are strong enough to tackle the situation here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes I am,” she answered, rising; “it’s just a question of will-power and +holding out. It was good of you to come like this, but now I’m afraid I must +send you away. This is the time I always sit with my aunt.” As she spoke she +approached nearer to the long glass door and, coming out of the gloom of the +drawing-room, he saw by the unsparing light the startling alteration in her +appearance; she looked so thin and worn, her eyes so large, her face so +small—her whole appearance wilted! When he thought of Mrs. Krauss, with her +deadly secret, her vampire hold on this girl; then of Krauss and his secret, he +could no longer restrain himself. All those influences which stir the deepest +emotions of the heart were silently operating on Shafto’s. His face assumed a +set expression and had grown suddenly pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Sophy!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +The word sent her heart galloping. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure you know that I—I adore you, but somehow I’ve never ventured to tell +you this till now——” He paused, as if the words stuck in his throat, and +meanwhile a huge brown insect of the bee tribe entered, booming alarmingly, and +knocking itself about the room. “But now I’ve got to speak out and take risks. +There is a terrible cloud over this house—a cloud of shame! I know I am saying +all this most awfully badly, but I ask you to let me take you away from +‘Heidelberg.’” He broke off abruptly and stood looking into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Sophy, no longer pale, returned his gaze steadily. It was not now a question of +her aunt’s secret, but of her own future. She cared very much for her +companion—why deceive herself?—and with the instinct common to her sex, had +been aware of his feelings for a long time. All the same, she could not desert +her post. She put up her thin hand (it was trembling, Shafto could see) with +the gesture of one who was thrusting aside temptation. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand about the cloud, but even so, my place is here. Surely you +will see that—and—I am, all the same, very—grateful. I”—her voice shook and +sank almost to a whisper—“I am glad that you care for me.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a curtain was hastily swung aside and Lily appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Missy, the mem-sahib asking for you now; please to come quickly,” and with a +swift glance at her “missy” obeyed; the <i>purdah</i> fell heavily behind her +slim, white figure and Shafto was alone. His mission had been fruitless, and +yet when he rode away from “Heidelberg” in his heart he carried the flower of +Hope. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap34"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br/> +ALL IS OVER</h2> + +<p> +That same evening, as Sophy was sitting alone in the veranda after dinner, Lily +ayah appeared, her fat arms uplifted in eloquent appeal. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, missy—you come with me—I think our mem-sahib soon, soon <i>die</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Die!” exclaimed Sophy, springing to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, somehow these drug people are too clever—she has got cocaine. I think +that water man bring it; anyhow, mem-sahib has taken one big, big dose, and +lies as one gone from the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send at once for Herr Krauss—he is in his office,” and Sophy ran towards her +aunt’s room and found, as Lily had described, that her relative was passing +away; indeed, save for her faint breathing, one would have supposed that she +had already crossed the border. +</p> + +<p> +Herr Krauss cast one hurried glance, thundered out of the room, and rang up the +telephone; then he returned and stood gazing at his wife, his face working with +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” he asked, turning abruptly to Sophy. “<i>Why</i> is she +like this? What does it mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell.” A reply which could be taken in two ways. +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been some sudden attack—her heart, I suppose. Marling, the +nearest doctor, will be here instantly.” And as he spoke a square-shouldered, +severe-looking man entered. Without a word, but in a most business-like manner, +he made an examination of the patient, felt her pulse, turned back her eyelids, +and then ejaculated an ominous: +</p> + +<p> +“Ha!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” inquired Krauss; “what is the matter with my wife? Is it +serious?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know?” demanded the doctor, turning on him sharply, “it is cocaine +poisoning—the last stage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cocaine!” echoed Krauss, and his large buff-coloured face turned to a leaden +hue. “You are mistaken. That is not <i>possible</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you don’t believe me, get another opinion,” retorted the doctor +brusquely. “Judging from the slight examination I have made, your wife has been +taking the drug for <i>years</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible!” almost shouted Krauss. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” rejoined the doctor. “Cocaine has been poisoning people in +Rangoon by hundreds. Mrs. Krauss is not the only victim.” +</p> + +<p> +Krauss, great heavy man that he was, was now trembling so violently that he was +obliged to lean against the wall for support, and, pointing to the bed, he +said: +</p> + +<p> +“I had not the slightest suspicion—Gott bewahre, I had not. I thought her +ailment was neuralgia. I will pay any money, no matter what fee. Surely, you +can do something for her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid not; Mrs. Krauss is beyond help, and can never recover +consciousness. She has been taking quantities of the drug for a long time. Look +at her arm!”—turning back the sleeve and revealing an emaciated tell-tale limb. +</p> + +<p> +“Did <i>you</i> know?” said Krauss, appealing to Sophy, who stood at the other +side of the bed. The words came in short savage jerks. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied, “I only discovered it six weeks ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“And never told <i>me</i>!” glaring at her with a furious expression. +</p> + +<p> +“No—because Aunt Flora implored me to be silent. I was doing my best to stop it +and minimising the doses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed the doctor, “that accounts for this. She has been starved and, +with the cunning of these morphia maniacs, found means to get a supply, and has +absorbed an enormous quantity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach Gott! it seems incredible,” moaned Krauss, now rising and coming towards +the bed, and lifting his wife’s limp hand. “What could have made her take to +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Illness—loneliness—depression; this enervating climate; having nothing +particular to do; an idle woman of forty has no business in Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely you have some remedy?—something that will bring her to? Gott in +Himmel! you don’t tell me that she will <i>never</i> see me, or speak to me +again!” +</p> + +<p> +“No; cocaine is one of the most powerful drugs—the greatest curse in our +pharmacopoeia. It is better that she should go like this. Even if she were to +survive for a week, she would be a mere inanimate shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my poor Flora, my heart’s joy! You must not go; you shall not leave me +without one word!” And Herr Krauss tumbled down upon his knees and sobbed +stertorously. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor, who was surveying him with frigid amazement, suddenly turned and, +seizing Sophy by the arm, said: +</p> + +<p> +“You can do no good here now; this is no place for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Leading her to the door he closed it inexorably behind her. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later she was joined by Lily, her round face wet with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“All is over now, Miss Sahib. My missis always so good to me—my missis done +die.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap35"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br/> +MUNG BAW LIES LOW</h2> + +<p> +In some mysterious manner the cause of Mrs. Krauss’s death was hushed up; there +was no inquest, and the announcement in the Rangoon Gazette merely stated: “On +the 8th inst., Flora, the beloved wife of Herr Karl Krauss, suddenly, of heart +failure.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy had been carried off to the “Barn” a few hours after her aunt had passed +away, and never again entered “Heidelberg.” The funeral was large, expensive, +and imposing, and included a crowd of rather unexpected and decidedly shabby +mourners, who brought with them offerings of cheap, home-made wreaths and +crosses, and wore faces of sincere and unaffected grief. Strange to say, the +grave prepared to receive Mrs. Krauss was next to that in which lay the remains +of Richard Roscoe. The two cocaine victims rested side by side in death, drawn +together by the long arm of coincidence. +</p> + +<p> +It had been decided that Sophy was to remain at the “Barn” and accompany Mrs. +Gregory when she went home in August. She quickly recovered her looks and +spirits amid bright society and cheerful surroundings. There had been an +auction at “Heidelberg,” everything was disposed of; the accumulation of twelve +years was scattered to the winds, the servants were disbanded, and the house +was closed. +</p> + +<p> +Herr Krauss sent Sophy a quantity of his wife’s jewels, with a letter thanking +her for all her care and attention, but she only retained a ring that had been +worn daily by her aunt, and returned the remainder, which was afterwards +disposed of in Balthazar’s Sale Rooms and fetched a handsome sum. +</p> + +<p> +It was said that Herr Krauss had felt his wife’s death acutely; he had left +Rangoon without the ceremony of farewells, departing no one knew whither. +</p> + +<p> +Time slipped by, and so far had brought no trace of the cocaine gang. On +several occasions Shafto had ridden round by the big Kyoung behind the Turtle +Tank and met with no success—nothing but a shake of the <i>pongye’s</i> shaven +head. On his first visit he had dismounted, given his horse to its <i>syce</i>, +and boldly approached the monastery, outside of which an imposing group of +<i>pongyes</i> was assembled. The attitude of some was lofty and disdainful; +others, with a friendly glance, acknowledged the stranger’s ceremonious +greeting. Towering majestically among his fellows stood Mung Baw, who, throwing +them a hasty explanation, advanced to welcome Shafto with a soldierly tread and +a jaunty swing of his yellow robe. Then taking him aside he began to talk to +him in a cautious undertone: +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to tell you I have no <i>kubber</i> yet. If I had some female +acquaintance it would so as easy as ‘kiss my hand,’ but I cannot break my vow +or spake to a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you have no clue?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s dozens of clues, if I could get hold of one; that’s what aggravates me +and has me tormented. But I’ll worry it out yet, and that’s as sure as me name +is Mick Ryan.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it was Mung Baw.” +</p> + +<p> +“So ’tis mostly—and officially, but this business I’m on is a white man’s job, +and if it’s to be done, I’ll do it.” As he spoke he removed his clumsy horn +spectacles, and Shafto realised that the eyes gazing unflinchingly into his own +were those of an enthusiast, and possibly a hero. +</p> + +<p> +Seen in tell-tale daylight, and without his disfiguring glasses, the +<i>pongye</i> looked years younger; hitherto Shafto’s impression had been that +his strange acquaintance was a man of fifty. Five-and-thirty would be nearer +the mark. His eyes were a shade of deep indigo blue, with thick black lashes, +high cheek bones were possibly a legacy from his Cingalese grandmother; a +square, well-shaped head, firmly set upon a fine pair of shoulders, a square +chin and jaw, and a well-cut mouth with shining white teeth, were his +inheritance from the West. Undoubtedly if Mung Baw’s religion had not compelled +him to sacrifice every hair on his body—including his eyebrows—he would have +been an uncommonly good-looking fellow, but an absolutely bare face and bald +cranium was a heavy handicap—were he Apollo himself! +</p> + +<p> +At least thrice a week Shafto, in the character of a private inquiry officer, +rode slowly round by the Kyoung and had a word or two with the tall upstanding +priest. +</p> + +<p> +One evening the latter beckoned to Shafto to dismount, and, leading him apart, +assured him that he was creeping on at last. “As soon as I know what I think I +know, I’ll send you a bit of a <i>chit</i>. It’s an awful traffic, this +infernal trade, now I’ve seen into it, cheek by jowl; these drugs is worse and +crueller than wild animals, and we can’t kill them.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, worse luck!” assented Shafto; “they kill us. I say, Mung Baw, don’t your +friends in the monastery wonder why I so often ride round this way and look you +up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, some does be as curious as a cat in a strange larder, but I have it +all explained to their satisfaction.” Then, dropping his voice, he added +mysteriously: “They think I’m <i>convarting</i> you!” +</p> + +<p> +“What—to Buddhism!” And Shafto burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Faix, ye might do worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly; but I am all right as I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a good hearing. Well, I’m not for troubling anyone’s mind, shure; +aren’t we all,” with a sweep of his powerful hand, “shtriving to reach the same +place, and if it’s what I expect, I’ll hope to meet ye? There’s the gong for +prayers, and I must fall in.” +</p> + +<p> +Two days later Shafto received a letter written in a neat clerkly hand. It +said: +</p> + +<p> +“If you will be at the Great Goddema in the woods beyond the Turtle Tank by +five o’clock to-morrow, Tuesday, you may hear news,—M.R.” +</p> + +<p> +The Great Goddema in the woods is a gigantic image in alabaster, encompassed by +palm ferns, and half clothed in flowering creepers. The day of this particular +shrine has sunk below the horizon; worshippers are absent and the flowers laid +around and about are entirely the contribution of Nature herself. Some day the +shrine will disappear altogether, buried, like many others, in appreciative +vegetation. +</p> + +<p> +As Shafto approached the rendezvous, he saw the <i>pongye</i> seated on the +steps, engrossed in a book with a red cover, which he hastily thrust into some +inner pocket as he rose to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye might not think it, but I’m a great reader,” he explained apologetically. +“It passes the time and is no sin; the saints themselves were wonderful writers +and readers. A friend here gets me books out of the public library, and then I +borrow when I can.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you got hold of now?” inquired Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World,’ and before that, ‘Jungle Tales.’ I +could tell a good few myself; animals and birds does be very friendly and +confidential with me; but it’s not books I brought you here to talk about, but +cocaine and opium.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, rather. Have you any news?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have so. I’ve found out what I may call the head lair of the divils.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good for you—how splendid! How did you manage it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bedad, it was a terrible touch-and-go business, as you shall hear. You see, I +should first explain how I get so much liberty to go mouching round the bazaars +and wharves. Being for so long weak in the head—and also of another +country—allowances are made, and I’m looked on as an oddity, and yet well +respected, for I’m clever with cures and language. Well, I used to poke about +among a lot of scum that has no respect for any cloth whatever—no, nor for life +itself; and all the time I felt in me bones I’d surely find what I wanted among +a crew that’s just the sweepings of creation! +</p> + +<p> +“There was one particular low wharf I used to hang round by way of watching +fellows netting fish; and one warm afternoon, as I was meditating there, the +chance looked my way. Two half-drunken Chinamen come along quarrelling and sat +down near me, and I ‘foxed’ I was sound asleep. They argued about shares and +money, and jabbered away very angry, telling me all I wanted. By and by, when +they cooled down a bit, they saw me, an’ this was what ye may call a critical +moment for Mick Ryan.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt of that. Go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“At first one of them was undecided as to whether I was asleep—or not. The +other brute said: ‘No chance take, stick knife in throat, and shove into the +water.’ You know what these thieves are with their long blades. I tell ye, Mr. +Shafto, they might have heard me heart thumping! However, my good angel, Saint +Michael himself, had his eye on me, for it turned out that neither of them had +a <i>dah</i> with him. Then they come and leant over me, breathing into me face +with their filthy rank breath, reeking of napie and pickled eggs, and I snored +back like a good one! I snored for my very life, and I done it so natural, they +were well satisfied; and I being such a big man and heavy to shift, they give +up the notion of slinging me into the Irrawaddy and went off still quarrelling. +I stayed on without a move out of me for a full hour; then I got up yawning my +head off, and walked away with the <i>clue</i> in me hand!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the den in Rangoon? There’s many a queer place here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not in Rangoon itself, but some way up the river; about twenty miles +beyond Prome there is a deserted village that was cleared out by cholera twenty +years ago. They say a big cholera <i>nat</i> lives there, and no one will go +next or nigh it. There’s a pagoda, a Kyoung, and a rest house, all smothered in +jungle, and a nice little bit of a convenient landing, and ’tis there the +Cocaine Company does its business—I learnt all their tricks. The Chinamen gave +me a lot of news; it seems they smuggle opium, too, and distribute the stuff up +and down the river by boats; on land by pack animals and the railroad. Oh, it’s +a wonderfully handy situation; they couldn’t have picked a better!” +</p> + +<p> +“And what about the people who run it?” asked Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the head of them all is gone; he was, as you may have suspicioned +yourself, that fellow Krauss. No one knows what’s become of him. Some say he’s +in Calcutta; more think he’s dead—died aboard ship; but that may not be true. +Them sort of ruffians generally live to a great age. Someone may have put him +out, or rather done him in. There were two or three chaps what I’ve heard +talkin’ terrible bitter agin him; and one fine young man, Ar Bo, who is back +from the Andamans—where he got sent to for three year, on account of this +cocaine business—told me that he met a lot of clever fellows from all parts of +the world; up to every dodge they were, and one of them instructed him in the +way of killing a man stone dead—and not leaving a spot on him! I believe it’s +some little trick with the head, where it joins the spine. This chap confessed +that he had tried it on several with success, and it wouldn’t surprise +<i>me</i> if he had made an experiment on Krauss!” +</p> + +<p> +“But what about the cocaine?” said Shafto. “How, are we to set about getting a +haul?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ye’ll have to go aisy, or rather Mr. FitzGerald and the polis must work by +stealth; he can take a good few disguised, as it were on a sort of pilgrimage, +but well armed, and passing through this village as it were accidental; and +with a couple of boats on the river I think they might scare the lot. I’d like +to go with them meself, for a bit of sport—only for me yellow robe, it wouldn’t +look well for me to be seen mixed up with cocaine, thaves and the polis.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I suppose not,” agreed Shafto. “You have to think of your cloth. Well, if +you will write me down a few details on this slip of paper in my notebook, I +will give it to Mr. FitzGerald at once, and I can’t tell you how thankful he +will be to get hold of it, or how grateful to you we are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t want no thanks for what has been a real pleasure. Haven’t I seen +with me own two eyes all the terrible harm this drug-takin’ leads to? And if +I’ve been in a small way the means of puttin’ a stop to some of it, I’ll be a +proud man.” He paused to clear his throat, and continued: “I suppose, you have +not seen anything of Ma Chit lately?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“She keeps you from goin’ to the Salters, doesn’t she? She’s always sittin’ +about there on the steps, heart-broken, because she can’t get a word wid ye! Of +course, I’m not surprised she’s took a fancy to ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fancy! Rot!” burst out Shafto. “I can’t stand these cheeky Burmese girls. I +only hope I may never set eyes on Ma Chit again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, as likely as not ye won’t,” remarked Mung Baw soothingly. “She has +a rich relation up at Thayetmyo, and she’s swithering between love and money. +Perhaps, after all, money will carry the day. Well, now, I must be goin’ to me +duties—and me devotions, and I’ll bid ye good evening.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +The conversation at “Heidelberg” interrupted by Lily had been resumed on a +suitable occasion in the gardens of the “Barn,” and Sophy and Shafto were now +provisionally engaged. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a wretched match for you, Sophy,” he declared; “I don’t believe your +mother will allow it. I’ve no prospects.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind prospects,” was her reckless reply. “We shall have enough to live +on. I have a hundred a year of my own, and I’m quite a good manager, with a +real taste for millinery. If the worst comes to the worst, I shall open a shop +in Phayre Street and make our fortune!” +</p> + +<p> +It was mail day and Shafto, who now dined at the “Barn,” was unusually late in +appearing. He looked rather excited and out of himself as he entered with many +apologies. After dinner he and Sophy paced the drive in the silver moonlight, +and she began: +</p> + +<p> +“I could hardly sit still, or eat a morsel, for anyone could see that you were +bursting with some great news. What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have two pieces of news, and I’ll give you first of all one that concerns +ourselves. I saw in the <i>Mail</i> some weeks ago that my uncle, Julian +Shafto, was dead. He had no family and left no will; and I found a letter +to-day at the office from a lawyer, informing me that I, being next of kin, am +heir-at-law, and succeed to the property and a fairly large income.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Douglas, how splendid! It sounds too good to be true!” +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw my uncle; he and my father had a disagreement before I was born, +and had no communication with one another. He did not even send us a line when +my father died. I fancy he was a hard-bitten old bachelor. I’ve not seen the +family place, Shafton Court, and don’t know much about it, except I remember my +father saying there were one or two fine pictures, a fair library, and, what +did not interest him, first-rate partridge shooting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a piece of good fortune! Do let us go in at once and tell Polly.” +</p> + +<p> +“But would you not like to hear my other piece of news, which is even better?” +</p> + +<p> +“It could not be better; but do tell me quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +“FitzGerald has brought off a splendid <i>coup</i> up the river—run in the +cocaine gang and collared no end of drugs. He is to receive the thanks of the +L.G. and the Government reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did he discover it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A man I know really put him on the track. The cocaine lair was in a village, +so deserted and tumble-down and haunted, that no one suspected it, or went near +it. A <i>pongye</i> Kyoung, said to be infested by malignant <i>nats</i> and +hundreds of snakes, was the head office. Rather a clever dodge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think this will put an end to the traffic?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; but it will give it a tremendous set-back; where there is a demand, there +will always be a supply, but for a considerable time—at least a year or +two—cocaine will be scarce. They caught a good many of the small fry, but as +usual the big fish escaped—all but one wealthy Mahommedan, but he is bound to +wriggle out somehow. Another point in favour of the short supply of cocaine is +the disappearance of Krauss.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” exclaimed Sophy. “Oh, Douglas, surely you don’t mean that <i>he</i> was +in it?” +</p> + +<p> +“In it—I should think so. Up to his neck!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but are you certain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite certain! This will explain his many mysterious journeys, the gangs of +natives who were always hanging round his office, and his suspicious opulence. +You may have noticed that he had no friends among the better class of +Rangooner; whether British or German; they all suspected him of dirty hands. He +had no conscience and was absolutely unscrupulous. It was a strange Nemesis +that his wife—to whom you say he was devoted—should kill herself with the very +drug he was smuggling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, poor Aunt Flora,” murmured Sophy; “that is a dreadful tale, which I shall +always keep from mother. I think if she were to know it, it would nearly break +her heart.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap36"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br/> +THE BOMBSHELL</h2> + +<p> +In spite of the claims of his own affairs, Shafto did not immediately resign +his post at Gregory’s, for it happened to be an unusually busy season; there +was a heavy paddy crop and, owing to fever, the staff were short-handed; +therefore, for the present he decided to stick to the ship, especially as Sophy +was, so to speak, on board. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory and Sophy were returning to England at the end of August; +naturally he booked his passage for the same date, and it was a happy +coincidence that he and his fiancée were once more to be shipmates on the +<i>Blankshire</i>. Meanwhile they were enjoying the time of their lives; the +rides or strolls in the grounds or in Dalhousie Park, and dances at the Club, +were delightful, and their world was sympathetic and smiled upon the +engagement. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gregory loved a wedding. Her rooms, appointments and well-drilled staff +readily lent themselves to such festivals, and why, she asked, should Sophy not +be married from the “Barn,” take a trip up the river for her honeymoon, in +order to see something of the real country, and buy her trousseau after her +arrival in London? +</p> + +<p> +Fired with this project, both she and Shafto dispatched long and plausible +letters to Mrs. Leigh; but Mrs. Leigh declined to entertain the idea and, in +equally long and eloquent effusions, set forth the fact that she had seen +nothing of her youngest daughter for nearly two years and claimed a share of +her company ere she was carried away to another home. She had, however, given a +cordial assent to Sophy’s engagement, and declared that she would gladly accept +Douglas Shafto as a son, but Sophy must be married from home and in the old +church at Chelsea. +</p> + +<p> +As Mrs. Gregory returned this letter, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Sophy, you must only take a sort of pre-honeymoon tour; we will go up to +Mandalay, and maybe explore a bit of the Shan hills; I shall coax George to +come—he has not had a holiday for ages. Douglas must get a fortnight off duty, +and Martin Kerr, our donnish old cousin, who is arriving from Calcutta in a day +or two, may accompany us; he is a bachelor, very well off, and has lived all +his life like a hermit crab in his college in Oxford. Lately he had a bad +breakdown, and was ordered an immense rest and change; so now he has ventured +out to blink at the universe beyond Carfax and the High, I expect he will find +us shamelessly trivial and ignorant. How his eyes will open when they look upon +this glaring world and behold some glaring facts! I shall invite Miss Maitland +to join our party; she is of a nice suitable age, and I shall pair her off with +Martin; we will take George’s <i>durwan</i>, as courier, for he has Upper Burma +at his finger-ends, and will see that we are comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +The projected tour proved entirely successful; Mandalay was reached in thirty +hours. From Mandalay, after a few days’ halt, the explorers fared to farther +and less trodden fields, visited the ruby mines, and the wonderful remains of +Pagan; occasionally they found the accommodation at <i>zayats</i>, or rest +houses, a little rough, but this was handsomely discounted by novel sights and +experiences, a full view of the Burman at home, and the easy joys of village +life. First of all, there was the morning procession of the stately +<i>pongyes</i>, carrying their empty begging-bowls, and looking neither to the +right nor left; there were delicious hours in the forests; boating and fishing +expeditions on the rivers, or rides to the ruins of ancient cities, half buried +in jungle. +</p> + +<p> +Shafto and Sophy saw so many novelties that they were almost bewildered, but +not nearly so much bewildered or impressed as was the Professor, when first +introduced to the library of an ancient monastery, in comparison with whose age +his beloved Bodleian was a mere infant. Here the volumes were written on palm +leaves, then rubbed over with oil to toughen and preserve them; the edges were +richly gilt and fastened together by drilling a hole at one end, through which +a cord was passed, then they were placed in elaborate lacquer boxes. There were +countless numbers of such books, devout and mystic, all inscribed in Pali; they +included the “Three Baskets of the Law,” also the Laws of Manu, which dated +from the fifth century before Christ. Professional scribes were kept constantly +employed in re-copying and restoring these precious tomes, as the palm leaves +only last about a hundred years, after which they become brittle and difficult +to decipher, and the copyists have an endless task. +</p> + +<p> +The Professor, attended by an interpreter, haunted the library, made eloquent +signs to the <i>pongyes</i> in charge, and was permitted to examine and make +notes of the rarest of their frail treasures, for which favour he duly made a +generous acknowledgment. +</p> + +<p> +Thanks to Mr. Gregory’s courier, the travellers found comfortable quarters in +his own ancestral village, and here they were able to watch the inhabitants +both at work and play. They saw the oxen treading out grain, men working an oil +mill, or caging fish; women weaving gay material, and children plaiting straw +mats; so much for day-time occupations! At nights there were songs, dancings, +gamblings, and games; these included chess, played somewhat differently from +what it is in Europe, but still the same chess as when it crossed the frontiers +from China. There was a king, but instead of a queen a general, instead of +bishops, elephants; and some of the moves were unusual. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gregory, who rather fancied himself as a chess-player, boldly challenged +one of the elders and, with the entire village as solemn spectators, suffered, +alas! a humiliating defeat. Then Shafto took a hand at dominoes, at which, +thanks to May Lee, he was an expert; fortunately he came off conqueror, and +thus restored to some extent the credit of the party. These games were played +by torchlight, the local band—harp, dulcimer, two drums and clappers—discoursed +at intervals; here the inhabitants, unlike those of Rangoon, were early birds. +By ten o’clock lights were extinguished, the crowd had dispersed, and a serene +silence fell on the soft, purple night. +</p> + +<p> +The College Don had thoroughly enjoyed this excursion into primitive life in +Upper Burma; he also enjoyed the stimulating company of Miss Maitland; and in +this delightful, highly coloured atmosphere, surrounded by agreeable +companions, he fished, joked, flirted, and appeared to have shed his formal +Oxford manner, along with his Oxford trencher and gown. He remembered Shafto’s +father and, on the strength of this memory, the two became excellent friends, +and Shafto gave him assistance in the way of adjusting his puttees, helping him +over awkward places, advising him what food to avoid and what insects to +destroy. +</p> + +<p> +The trip lasted for three weeks and the party returned to Rangoon delighted +with their tour, and bringing with them quantities of snapshots, not a few +small trophies and mementoes—which included the great Shan hat, purchased by +the Professor—and amusing anecdotes of their varied adventures. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel as if I’d had a bird’s-eye view of the real country,” said Sophy to her +friend. “Those great calm seas of green rice, bounded by dark woods, with a +white pagoda peeping through here and there; the fierce strong rivers flowing +through overhanging forests, and the deep red sunsets, turning old ruins into +flames, and then the golden days and silver nights, and all the nice friendly +simple people. Douglas and I feel quite sad at the idea of saying good-bye to +Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear, the matter lies in your own hands,” said Mrs. Gregory briskly, +“and after you are married, you can return to Rangoon; there is a fine big +empty house in Halpin Road; we might go over and inspect it some morning.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +The assassination of the heir to the Crown of Austria and his Duchess had +caused a profound sensation in Europe; ripples of this far-reaching tragedy had +spread to the East; the Rangoon bazaar, like every other bazaar, was full of +thrilling whispers, and various prudent traders were figuratively drawing in +their horns and preparing for big trouble across the “Kala Pani.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first week in August and on Wednesday; there had been a break-neck +and exciting paper-chase, with the finish at Government House. Here a profusion +of refreshments was displayed and all the world, more or less, was present; the +men drinking pegs, the ladies iced coffee, gossiping, discussing the recent +performance and various local matters. All at once a Government <i>peon</i> ran +quickly through the crowd, a telegraph <i>peon</i>, then a motor arrived with +two men (officials) who had not taken part in the paper-chase. Sir Horace +Winter, the Lieutenant-Governor, and his military secretary disappeared +abruptly indoors, and there was a sudden pause in the continuous chatter. +</p> + +<p> +More than one of the guests experienced a curious thrill, as if there was +something electric in the air; then from nowhere in particular the word “War” +was whispered. “Great Britain has declared war on Germany.” This seemed +incredible; people stared at one another aghast, and boldly declared that “it +was just a bazaar shave and a mistake,” for out in the Far, Far East there had +been no preliminary muttering of the storm which was about to burst and drown +half the world in tears. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the news was horribly true. “War” had come; war, after so many +years of European peace and prosperity; and newly aroused, startled countries +found themselves face to face with the malignity of the unknown. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the Lieutenant-Governor reappeared and verified the whisper. Wires +were already active; the 29th Punjaub Infantry had been ordered from Mandalay; +guests pressed round, eagerly snatching at scraps of information; Germans and +British glanced curiously at one another, and presently the gathering +dissolved—to talk, to write, and to cable. +</p> + +<p> +For several days nothing remarkable occurred, save that the outgoing mail +carried a number of British who had booked their passages at the last moment. +Officers on leave were recalled, a few big business houses were closed and, in +the District, many German mills and a large influx of stalwart young employés, +who had been working in them and could not speak a word of English, suddenly +flocked in, prepared to embark for Europe, to fight for the Fatherland. +</p> + +<p> +Every berth in the <i>Blankshire</i> had been secured, and the night before she +sailed the well-known German Club gave its parting dinner; a wild affair, with +unlimited quantities of champagne, loud patriotic speeches, songs and shouts of +“Deutschland über Alles,” and finally a smashing of glass, a breaking of +furniture, and the customary wrecking of the premises. +</p> + +<p> +In her frequent journeys from Rangoon, the popular <i>Blankshire</i> had never +been so crowded as on the present occasion; every berth was taken, chiefly by +German passengers, who had also bespoken the chief seats at table and the best +positions for their deck chairs; such was the crush that there would be no room +whatever for casual travellers from Colombo or Port Said. The British, who were +in a comparatively small minority, realised what a very bad time lay before +them, when they and their country’s enemies must pass weeks and weeks in close +proximity. Many had caught the previous steamer, but the remnant included Mrs. +Gregory, Sophy, Shafto and MacNab—who was actually paying the passage out of +his hoarded funds, and sternly resolved to join the Cameronians. The party were +figuratively swamped by the multitude of Teutons, who had swarmed on board, +already looking truculent, arrogant and victorious—drinking and toasting one +another noisily in vast libations at the bar. On the wharf an immense gathering +of natives assembled to speed numbers of kind and generous patrons, who (with +an eye to the future) had distributed a considerable amount of largesse and +flattery, as well as silk and satin finery. What with the Germans and their +native friends, egress from and ingress to the steamer were almost impossible; +the gangway was choked, and the shouting and hurrahing actually drowned the +noise of the donkey-engine. +</p> + +<p> +Many friends had come to see the last of Mrs. Gregory and her party; the +military and official element were bound to remain in Rangoon. Sophy was +talking to Miss Maitland and Ella Pomeroy, when a fresh influx of joyous and +exultant Germans came pouring down the gangway with the force and violence of a +human cataract. Sophy and her friends were thrust rudely apart and, from where +she had been pushed against the bulwarks, she saw Frau Wurm pass by, also Frau +Muller, who threw her a glance that seemed to distil hatred. She was +immediately followed by Bernhard, looking extraordinarily elated and deeply +flushed. Catching sight of Sophy he halted, clicked his heels together, and +said, with a sort of savage courtesy: +</p> + +<p> +“Ach, so here we are again, you and I, Miss Leigh, on the old ship that brought +us out! I am delighted to have your company.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy looked round for some means of escape, but she was helpless, being +tightly wedged in between two bulwarks—the bulwark of the <i>Blankshire</i> and +Bernhard’s solid form—and separated from Mrs. Gregory by a seething crowd of +jubilant Teutons. +</p> + +<p> +“So ‘Der Tag’ has come at last!” he continued, staring into her face with +arrogant blue eyes; “and we are on the eve of great events. I am about to join +my Brandenburger regiment—every German is a soldier—we have several hundred +reservists on board.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy at last found her voice and murmured: “No doubt!” +</p> + +<p> +“I caught sight of Shafto just now. Why is <i>he</i> going home?” +</p> + +<p> +“To serve his country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, bah! Better stick to his pen; it takes two years to make a soldier; in ten +days we shall be in Paris, in a month in London. And why not? You have no army; +we are a nation of fighting men, and you are a nation of shopkeepers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we are not prepared; we would not listen to Lord Roberts; and, on +the other hand, you have been arming and drilling and shipbuilding for the last +forty years!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well, meine liebe fräulein, we must spread our borders! Who could expect +the greatest nation in the world to remain cooped up in the North Sea? We +demand and we will have space, power, and the sun. We understand patriotism and +the love of country.” +</p> + +<p> +“The love of other people’s countries,” interposed Sophy sharply. “You Germans +are everywhere—like the sparrows.” +</p> + +<p> +“To other nations we bring valuable lessons in industry and Kulture, prudence, +thrift, and energy; other countries are only too fortunate to receive us. We +have brains, bold hearts, and discipline—and know how to use them. Old Blücher, +who won Waterloo, may yet find his aspirations fulfilled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you mean the sack and plunder of London?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded an impressive assent, and then said: +</p> + +<p> +“When I am there I shall call on you, and show you my loot!” As he spoke he +lent towards her, his eyes exultant, his breath heavy with champagne. Sophy +instinctively recoiled and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Pray do not trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Bernhard gave a loud, boisterous laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be ‘Missy can’t see.’ By the way, talking of loot, do you know that +Herr Krauss is dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead!” she repeated. “No; I heard he had gone to Java.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has gone to his grave. Last night I was told that his body was found +floating near the landing-stage at Moulmein; there were no marks on it, no +signs of a violent end; and yet he was the last man in the world to commit +suicide.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” assented Sophy; “he had so many plans and schemes for the future.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say a little bunch of coarse black hair was found in his clutch; however, +at the inquest they brought in a verdict of ‘Found Drowned.’ It saved trouble. +I wonder who will get his money. He was enormously rich.” +</p> + +<p> +“With ill-gotten gains.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he must have some German kin to claim his fortune, and I’ll make it my +business to find out all I can when I return here.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you are coming back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course—possibly in six months. I leave my house and belongings all +standing. Business is but temporarily closed. Burma, as old Krauss used to say, +is ‘the land of opportunity.’ When next I see the Golden Pagoda, the whole of +this rich and fertile country will belong to <i>us</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are sanguine!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sanguine! I am certain; and why not? Look at our wonderful trade! And the +Burmese themselves like us a million times better than you English.” +</p> + +<p> +“Simply because you bribe them with money and presents.” +</p> + +<p> +“But look at the crowds,” waving his hand towards the masses, “who have come to +say ‘<i>Auf Wiedersehen</i>’; thousands and thousands.” Then he turned his bold +arrogant eyes on Sophy and said: “Your country has no chance against us, Miss +Leigh; we shall crush you like pulp—your money, treasures and trade will all be +ours. Hullo!” he exclaimed, “what are these police doing? Mounted police, too! +Any escaped convicts on board?” +</p> + +<p> +As he stood and watched, the swaying masses were parted with authority and a +large force ranged up on the quay. Officers and officials came on board, armed +with an order from the Lieutenant-Governor. Among the first strode FitzGerald +in full uniform, not the everyday genial Patrick, but a smart stern guardian of +the law. Approaching the bragging Bernhard, he said, with frigid severity: “Be +good enough to go ashore, Herr Bernhard.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” stammered his prisoner, who had become livid. “What the devil are you +talking about! How dare you interfere with me? Or give me an order?” +</p> + +<p> +“Official order,” rejoined FitzGerald, entirely unmoved. “All men of German +nationality to disembark immediately and be interned.” +</p> + +<p> +Sophy now made a forcible and frantic effort to effect her escape from this +hateful situation, and struggling through the crowd eventually managed to join +her own friends. +</p> + +<p> +Disembark—to be interned! What a thunderbolt! All at once Bernhard’s flushed +countenance became livid, his eyes glared savagely, and there suddenly spread a +choking, suffocating expression on his large handsome face. The noise and +clamour of hoarse angry voices became almost stupefying, but in the end the +Teutons were compelled to accept the inevitable, and gradually streamed ashore, +carrying their hand baggage, parcels of delicatessen, and other comforts +intended for the voyage. The heavy baggage was hastily landed, for the +<i>Blankshire</i> had steam up and was bound to catch the tide. +</p> + +<p> +A more than half-empty ship, she now slipped from her berth and turned her bows +towards home. As she glided slowly by the wharf, Shafto and Sophy waved +vigorous farewells to their numerous friends, Burmese and European. There was +Roscoe, there were the Salters and Rosetta. Apart from all, a solitary little +figure stood prominent on a heap of rice bags. It was Ma Chit, waving a pink +silk handkerchief. For once she was not smiling, her piquant face was grave, +and the eyes fixed upon Shafto conveyed an eloquent and heartbroken farewell; +presently she cowered down and hid her face. +</p> + +<p> +“That was a wonderfully smart <i>coup</i>!” said a ship’s officer to Mrs. +Gregory and Sophy. “Those German fellows that were trampling all over the ship +as if she was their own property were neatly caught. They will be shipped off +to India out of harm’s way, and within a week or two, I fancy, will find +themselves at Ahmednuggur.” +</p> + +<p> +The interned passengers had left ample space and a grateful sense of relief and +freedom. As the <i>Blankshire</i> throbbed down past “the Hastings” Shafto and +Sophy stood side by side, taking their last look at the Great Pagoda, which +gave an impression of being swathed in a mantle of dazzling gold, and dominated +all its surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems only the other day we were coming up the river in this very old +boat,” he said; “a year and ten months ago, and how much has happened in that +time! Well, we have had strange experiences, seen many places, and made many +friends. Here is one of them now,” indicating Mrs. Gregory; “I expect she feels +a bit down, after parting with old George, although he does follow in three +months; so do you try to cheer her, while I go below and hurry up the tea.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap37"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br/> +THE TUG OF WAR</h2> + +<p> +One evening, after they had been several days at sea, as Sophy and Shafto were +gazing down at the steerage passengers, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“I have noticed such an odd person watching you—he looks as if he knew you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Knew me!” repeated Shafto. “What is he like?” +</p> + +<p> +“A tall, broad-shouldered, lanky man—there he is, leaning over the side, +wearing a blue serge suit and a soft felt hat.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto stared for a moment, then he said: +</p> + +<p> +“By George! I <i>do</i> know him—though I can hardly believe my eyes. I’ll go +and speak to him and find out what this means,” and he hurried away below. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Mung Baw!” he exclaimed. “Say, this is something like a surprise! What +are you doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Much the same as yourself, sir. The Tug of War is drawing us all home. I have +left Mung Baw and the yellow robe behind me, and I’m now Corporal Michael Ryan. +I’m going into the Army again. Why, I’m only thirty-four when all’s said and +done. Of course, the shaven head ages a fellow, but I’ll grow me hair on me +passage home and, maybe, a moustache as well; someone told me that kerosene oil +is a grand thing. And you are going to join up too, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so; I put in two terms at Sandhurst, so I shall have a try. I should +like to get into the Flying Corps.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what will herself say,” with a glance towards Sophy on the main deck, “to +all this fighting and flying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Miss Leigh won’t stand in my way—she intends to look for a job, too. Tell +me, Michael, do you really believe they will take you back into the Service +after your adventure in Upper Burma—and seven years’ absence without leave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, since ye ask me, sir, in my opinion they might do worse; annyhow, I’ll +have a good try. I might get a sort of doctor’s certificate—<i>mental</i> you +know. I’m a first-class shot, though naturally a bit out of practice; and very +hefty with the bayonet. I’d like well to stir them Germans up, ever since one +great ugly brute went out of his way to give me a kick. I was black and blue +for weeks. Did you hear them the day before they were took off—just screeching +mad, shoutin’ and drinkin’, as if the world was their own. Well, annyhow, I can +enlist as full private; I’m sound in wind and limb and, I tell ye, we want all +the men we can get, for I heard them Germans talkin’ very big in Rangoon, +saying they’d eat us all up within the next three months—body, sleeves and +trimmings!” +</p> + +<p> +“Easier said than done,” rejoined Shafto; “although they have a splendid +army—and thousands of big guns.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like well to have a hand in real fighting—none of your autumn manoeuvres, +but the proper thing; and after I put the war over, I’ll go and see Ireland. +It’s strange, although I’m Irish, I’ve never put a toe in the country, and +never been nearer it than a black native. My father’s people were reared in the +Galtees; it’s my Irish blood that’s uppermost now and driving me home. I’ve +often heard the boys talkin’ of the grand purple mountains, the wonderful +greenery everywhere, and the lovely soft, moist air.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Michael, I hope you may see it all some day. What put it into your head +to throw off the yellow robe and take this sudden start?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was the barrack talk, sir; I heard them chaps cursin’ and groanin’ that +they were stuck fast in Rangoon and had no chance of gettin’ a look in, and +says I to myself, what’s to hinder <i>you</i> from goin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“But how about the passage money?” inquired Shafto. “I thought you were vowed +to poverty and had nothing in your wooden bowl?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had the ruby that you gave back to me. I believe it was a rare fine stone. I +had it in me mind to offer it to the Pagoda; it was well I waited, as things +turned out; a friend sold it for me in the bazaar—he got four hundred pounds of +English money. He says it was worth some thousands; it was bought for a Pagoda, +annyhow, and I have a nice big sum lodged in a London bank, and when the war is +over, please God, it will help to settle me in a small place in Ireland. I took +me passage and bought some kit, and I have a few pounds in hand—so that I won’t +be stranded. At first I felt the clothes terrible awkward, especially the +trousers, after living in a petticoat so long; and I did not know what to be +doin’ with a knife and fork—and leadin’ such a quiet, cramped sort of life I +lost the use of meself; but I tramped up and down the decks for a couple of +hours of a morning, and a nice young fellow in the pantry has lent me a pair of +dumb-bells. By the time I get to England I’ll be well set up with a black +moustache—and mabbe, ye’ll hardly know me!” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you get rid of the yellow robe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, easy enough, and without any ceremony of disgrace whatever. Shure, half +the Burmans you meet have worn it for, p’r’aps, a year or two—but it’s not +everyone who has the vocation.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t understand your ever taking to it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can ye not, sir?” rejoined the <i>ex-pongye</i>, laying a muscular hand on the +bulwark and fixing a far away, abstracted gaze upon the lazy green sea. “I may +as well tell ye that the first story I made out to ye was not altogether the +truth. I had in me mind a mental reservation. I just slipped out of Army life +and hid meself in the forests—all along of a little girlie.” His lower lip +trembled as he added: “She died, sir—and I was just broke over it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Shafto. “Well, such things have happened before.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was like this, sir,” now turning and fixing a pair of tragic dark eyes on +his companion, “I was engaged to be married—same as yourself. She was the +daughter of a sergeant in the arsenal in Madras; her father and mine were old +friends, and when mine was killed in Afghanistan, me mother just dwindled away +and broke her heart. Sergeant Fairon and his wife was real good to me and took +me home; she mothered me and he ‘belted’ me, and they helped to start me for +the Lawrence Asylum Orphanage. I was about eight years of age then, and this +little girl was two. After a good spell I come back to St. George’s Fort, a +grown-up man and a corporal. Polly, she was grown up, too—and the prettiest +girl you could see in a thousand miles; we fell in love with one another, and +Sergeant Fairon had a sort of wish for me, being, they said, the very spit of +me own father, and though I knew in me heart Polly was a million times too good +for me and I was not fit to wipe her shoes, still, I made bold to ask him for +her and he said ‘Yes.’ I knew I’d get permission to marry, for my name was +never in the defaulters’ book, and Polly was fair as a lily—not one of your +yellow ‘Cranies’ the Colonel was so dead set agin. Well, I was just too happy +to be lucky, saving up me pay and Mrs. Fairon buying a few bits of house linen +for us, and Polly making her trousseau, when the regiment was shifted all of a +sudden from Madras to Mandalay and our plans were knocked on the head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that was bad luck,” said Shafto sympathetically. +</p> + +<p> +“Still and all, I was full of hope, expecting my stripes and hearing every mail +from Polly, when one day the letter corporal handed me an envelope with a deep +black edge; it was from Sergeant Fairon telling me Polly was dead; taken off in +three hours with cholera. He enclosed half a letter she was writing to me when +she was called. Well, sir, I would not believe it! No; I held out agin it for +days; but of course I had to give in. At first the grief was just a little +scratch; but every day the pain went deeper and deeper, as if some one was +turning a knife in my heart. To think I’d never look upon her again or hear her +voice, and her gay laugh, it seemed impossible—but, in the end, I +<i>believed</i>, and I felt as if I was groping about in black darkness! What +had I to live for? What was the good of going on? +</p> + +<p> +“At times I thought of my rifle, but I put that idea aside because of the +regiment and the scandal in the newspapers—still, I was always meditating some +way <i>out</i>. I think now, if I’d opened my mind to one of my pals, it would +have been easier, and I’d not have felt it so cruel hard; but somehow I’d never +breathed the name of Polly to one of them—I held her like a holy thing apart. I +could not stand the talk and the coarse chaff of the barrack-room, so I kept my +trouble sealed up, till at last it grew too big for me, and I made up my mind +to do away with myself, where no one would be a penny the wiser. I got a couple +of days’ leave—by way of seeing a pal at Tonghoo—and I went up the river and +away into the Jungles, and wandered about looking for some venomous reptile to +put an end to me in a natural way! But, if you’ll believe me, sir, divil a bite +could I get—not after searching for half a day; and, av coorse, had I been +looking without intention, I’d have found dozens. +</p> + +<p> +“What with walking miles in the blazing sun and nothing to eat, I believe I +fell down with a stroke, and some wood-cutters found me and carried me into +their village—a big place with a great thorn hedge and gates to keep off the +Dacoits. The head man they call a Thugyi took me over, and his women nursed me; +he was a rich fellow with four yoke of oxen, and so no expense was spared; and +there I lived for many a long day, very strange and out of myself. I could not +remember who I was, nor where I came from; all the clothes I had to me name was +a shirt and a pair of drawers. By degrees, thanks to great charity and +kindness, I come round, I remembered everything only too well, and then I +buried Mick Ryan in the jungle and became a <i>pongye</i>. The peace and quiet +ate into me very bones, and I took on the yellow robe. The rest and the holy +life tamed me and did my soul good; and many an evening when I’d be roaming in +the forests, among the splendid tall trees and beautiful flowers, with the +birds and animals around me so tame and at their ease, I’d have a feelin’ that +Polly was walkin’ alongside of me, the face on her shining with the light of +heaven! But,” drawing himself erect, “excuse me, sir, for bothering you with +all this foolish, crazy sort of talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” said Shafto. “Thank you so much for telling me your story. I am +truly sorry for you, Ryan; it was hard lines losing your Polly. Do you mind +telling me some more? After you had recovered your memory and become a +<i>pongye</i>, what happened next?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, after a while, I chanced to see English papers and hear outside news, +an’ I got a cast in a cargo boat down the river. I had a sort o’ longin’ to see +the soldiers, the love of the Service is in me blood, so now and then I was +drawn to Rangoon to get a sight of the khaki and to hear the barrack yarns. Ye +see, one quarter of me is Cingalese—I suppose me grandfather on one side was a +Buddhist, and that is how <i>pongye</i> life came so pleasant and aisy to me. +The three quarters of me is an Irish soldier, an’ every day the soldier within +me grows an’ the <i>pongye</i> dies away.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you will never return to Burma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, no. I have laid out to go to Ireland and spend the rest of my time +there when the war is over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—I wonder when the war will be over?” said Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“God alone knows!” exclaimed the <i>pongye</i>. “They were talking in the +bazaar of the end coming about Christmas. I think meself it will be a long +business and an awkward business, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” agreed Shafto, recalling the sage remarks of George Gregory. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s like a light stuck in an old thatch! We’ll have half the world in it +before long, an’ the greatest blaze as ever was known.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see that Australia and Canada and South Africa are all coming to lend a +hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we want every hand we can get—and every foot, too! I’ve heard plenty of +big talk in the bazaar, where the Germans have laid out a mint of money. By all +accounts they are going to take Persia, India, Burma, the whole of our trade, +money and fleet. Well, if that comes off, it’ll be a cold world! By the way, +sir,” he continued in another tone, “did ye see Ma Chit the day we were leavin’ +Rangoon, signin’ and wavin’ to ye as we cast off?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto nodded curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ ye never tuk no notice! Ye might have given her just a small sign to ease +her heart—but I’m thinkin’ ye have a hard drop in ye.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say I have,” assented Shafto, “and I’m glad of it, for now and then it +has prevented me from making an awful fool of myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well, sometimes the fools have the best of it; not that I’m sayin’ a word +in favour of Ma Chit—only that if ye’d waved yer hand she’d a gone away with a +small bit of consolation and comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +“By the way, Ryan, what did you mean by saying you were a magician?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that was only a bit of a boast, sir. I know a few tricks I learnt in the +regiment; one of the privates was a professional conjurer and mighty clever +when sober. When I showed off one or two little tricks with stones, or buttons, +or bits of string, the Burmans were sure I was a real wizard, and looked up to +me, so they did, and then the birds and animals being so friendly—I was always +so much at my ease with them, and the childher—they said I cast <i>spells</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +The steerage passengers were not a little surprised to note the forgathering of +a first-class passenger with this odd reserved person (whose shaven head was +associated in their opinion with the interior of Rangoon jail). Nor was this +all; now and then a remarkably pretty young lady accompanied the said +first-class passenger and brought fruit, and books, and cakes, and the three +appeared to be on the best of terms. The <i>pongye</i> and Shafto had many long +talks together; they discussed life among the Burmese, the prospects of war, +the changes that might awake and shake the world, and, appropriate supplement +to the topic of war, more than once they spoke of death. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been so long with the Buddhists that the fear of the grave is wore out of +me,” said Ryan; “I’d a’most as soon be dead as not—it’s only another new +life—ye just step in, an’ meet yer old friends. I suppose, sir, you do not go +along with me there.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Shafto, who had all an Englishman’s shrinking reluctance to +discuss his belief, or his inner life; “yours is a nice easy path—too good to +be true, I’m afraid. My creed is, to do our best, to help other people, and to +take what comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Goodness knows you have helped me, Mr. Shafto”—and the <i>pongye</i> drew back +a step and looked at him queerly—“what with saving me life and then makin’ sort +o’ friends with me—as man to man—your kindness will stand in me memory till the +clay is over me!” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto and the <i>pongye</i> separated at Marseilles; the latter went round by +the Bay, whilst Mrs. Gregory and her party travelled overland, and they did not +meet again for nearly two years. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap38"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br/> +SERGEANT-MAJOR RYAN</h2> + +<p> +Many months later, on a clear February night, Shafto and Tremenheere stood +together outside Headquarters, “somewhere in France,” anxiously observing the +signs in the sky. Shafto, a machine-gun officer attached to the Blanks, had +been granted twenty-four hours’ leave, and made a muddy and dangerous journey +of fifteen miles to visit his old schoolfellow, now on the staff of a General +commanding a division. He was challenged and so was his companion; their faces +expressed the long strain of a terrible war; both looked years older than their +actual age, for, like the sons and daughters of the worshippers of Moloch, +“they had passed through the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto was fine-drawn to leanness, heavy lines were scored on his forehead, he +had twice been wounded, had taken part in desperate fighting, witnessed many +harrowing sights, and lost many friends. +</p> + +<p> +The chill air was full of sounds; a continuous rolling of wheels, rumbling of +guns, and the distant scream of a shell. +</p> + +<p> +“There goes a signal to lengthen the German range,” remarked Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, for they often show up lights that mean nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look at that aeroplane of ours dropping red stars over the Boches’ first line +of trenches. I suppose the lines are fairly close?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, you may say so! The men can shout across at one another, but the +trenches are a good four miles from where we stand.” +</p> + +<p> +As he concluded, a star shell broke and lit up a vast expanse of gleaming mud. +</p> + +<p> +To the rolling and rumbling was now added a far-away sound of tramping feet and +song. +</p> + +<p> +“Here they come!” exclaimed Tremenheere; “back to billets; they changed at six +o’clock, but it’s heavy going—mostly wading in slosh.” +</p> + +<p> +The marching came nearer and nearer, also the sound of singing and +mouth-organs. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Michigan,’” said Shafto, “is a favourite; poor old ‘Tipperary’ is down and +out.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently the force which had been relieved, muddy to the waist, but splendidly +cheerful, splashed into the great courtyard. +</p> + +<p> +“Irish,” explained Tremenheere; “magnificent fellows, born fighters.” +</p> + +<p> +They watched the men as they fell out and scattered to their quarters in +outhouses, barns and offices; and then Shafto and his friends made their way +into the battered old chateau, and temporary Orderly room—once a lady’s +boudoir. It still exhibited strips of artistic wall-paper, a cracked mirror, a +beautiful Louis XIV. cabinet stacked with papers, a few rude chairs, a couple +of wooden tables. +</p> + +<p> +Presently a sergeant-major came in to report, a fine stalwart fellow with a +heavy black moustache and, in spite of his muddy waders, an air of complete +self-possession. Having saluted and handed over his papers, his quick blue eyes +rested on Shafto. He started, saluted, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, Mr. Shafto, sir, but I see you don’t know me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no, I can’t say that I do,” replied Shafto, casting his mind over the +last eighteen months. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course, sir, I’m entirely different to what ye may remember in +Rangoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?—you don’t mean to say——” +</p> + +<p> +The late <i>pongye</i> nodded with emphasis.. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m now Sergeant-Major Ryan, in the second battalion of the old regiment.” +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly stepping back and lowering his voice, he added, “They think I’m +me brother. Shure, I never had one. And how is yourself, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right; I’m a machine-gun officer attached to the Blanks.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the young lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a Red Cross nurse at Rouen—I saw her three months ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“When next you meet will you give her my humble respects and tell her I’ve not +forgotten her invitation, an’ I’m coming to the wedding?” +</p> + +<p> +“And no one will be more welcome; you have our address. I’m told you’ve been in +some heavy fighting?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, sir, at Ypres we lost eighteen of our officers; oh, it was a cruel +bad mix-up. Still and all, the Boches were given their tea in a mug! After our +last charge ye’d see thim going every way—like crows in a storm! Our guns are +grand; as for them aeroplanes they do all but speak; and the Tanks are wonders, +God bless them!” +</p> + +<p> +“You have been wounded?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only just a cat’s scratch—the German wire is mighty stiff; and there’s +six-inch spikes. Well, since we were last together, sir, you and I have been +through a strange time and seen sights as we can’t talk about. One thing is +sure, we’ll worry through all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, we shall, and give the Boches something to think about.” +</p> + +<p> +The sudden opening of a distant door released a roar of voices singing, “Take +me back to Blighty!” a rousing demand which instantly recalled the +sergeant-major to his duty. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir,” he said, “I must be moving; so I’ll wish you good-bye, and the +best of luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“The same to you, Ryan. You’ll let us have a line to say how you get on, won’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto held out his hand; Ryan gave it a hard, convulsive squeeze, and in +another moment the stalwart Irishman had saluted and tramped forth. +</p> + +<p> +“An old friend, I see,” remarked Tremenheere. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I knew him in Burma.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is a tip-top non-com., and has the D.C.M. and the French Cross; he worked +miracles when his officers were killed at Ypres. They offered him a commission, +but he wouldn’t take it. The men love him; though he has some funny fads, never +touches meat, and sings queer outlandish chants; but he’s the splendid sort of +fellow who was <i>born</i> for this war; full of heroic qualities and as hard +as a bag of nails. I suppose his regiment was in Rangoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in my time,” replied Shafto. He hesitated for a moment, and then added, +“If I were to tell you how I came across that Irish sergeant-major you’d say I +was pulling your leg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, go on, then—pull away.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I first met him he was a Burmese priest, with a shorn head, yellow robe, +and begging-bowl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, I say, Douglas, this is a bit too much!” +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s a fact. He had been a soldier for six or seven years, got a bad +stroke in the jungle, was taken in by Burmans, and was for seven years a +<i>pongye</i>. When the war broke out he flung off his yellow robe, paid his +passage to England, and is here, as you see, in his element.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s amazing—incredible—but incredible things come off nowadays.” +</p> + +<p> +Shafto nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“If he gets through this, do you suppose he will return to his monastry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never! It is his fixed intention to go to Ireland; he has some money, and +hopes to settle down on his own little farm.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid he’s some way off that yet; in the meanwhile, he is seeing a good +bit of life.” +</p> + +<p> +“And death,” mentally added Shafto. +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” exclaimed Tremenheere, glancing at his wrist-watch, “it’s time for our +dinner—come on!” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +In the autumn of the same year, Shafto, who had again been severely wounded, +was granted a month’s leave, and he and Sophy were married. It was the usual +war wedding, no bridesmaids and no reception. Among the friends, “welcome at +the church,” were the Gregorys, Tebbs, Larchers, MacNabs, Mrs. Malone, Mr. +Hutton, and the Tremenheeres. Captain Tremenheere supported his friend as best +man. +</p> + +<p> +One specially bidden guest was absent from the gathering. He lay beneath a +black wooden cross, near by to Guinchy, where gallant Irish regiments had +immortalised their colours. Alas! Sergeant-Major Michael Ryan was among the +missing. To the unspeakable grief of his comrades, he had gone West—but not to +Ireland. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROAD TO MANDALAY ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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