Read Captain Desmond, V.C. Page 6


  CHAPTER V.

  AN EXPURGATED EDITION.

  "A little lurking secret of the blood; A little serpent secret, rankling keen."

  The Kresneys looked in vain for the coveted invitation, and thetrifling circumstance loomed largely on their narrow horizon.

  Owen Kresney possessed in a high degree that talent for discovering orinventing slights which is pride of race run crooked, and reveals thetaint of mixed blood in a man's veins. As District Superintendent ofPolice he had relieved his predecessor in the middle of the hotweather. His sister being at Mussoorie, he had arrived alone; and, inaccordance with the friendly spirit of the Frontier, had been made anhonorary member of the station Mess, where he had found himself verymuch a stranger in a strange land.

  The man's self-conceit was unlimited; his sense of humour _nil_; andin less than a month he had been unanimously voted a "_pukka_[12]bounder" by that isolated community of Englishmen, who played as hardas they worked, and invariably "played the game"; a code of moralswhich had apparently been left out of Kresney's desultory education.The fact revealed itself in a hundred infinitesimal ways, and eachrevelation added a fresh stone to the wall that sprang up apacebetween himself and his companions.

  [12] Thorough.

  Among them all Desmond and Wyndham represented, in the highest degree,those unattainable attributes which Kresney was secretly disposed toenvy; and his narrow soul solaced itself by heartily detesting theirpossessors. This ability to recognise the highest without the leastdesire to reach it, breeds more than half the pangs of envy, hatred,and malice that corrode the lesser natures of earth. But there werealso, in Kresney's case, personal and particular reasons which servedto nourish these microbes of the soul.

  Toward the close of the hot weather the man's growing unpopularity hadbeen established by an incident at Mess, which brought him into suchsharp contact with Desmond as he was not likely to forget.

  There had been a very small party at dinner. Several of the older menwere absent on leave, and three were on the sick list, no uncommonoccurrence in Frontier stations. Thus it had chanced that Desmond wasthe senior officer present.

  The wine had already been round twice when the sound of a lady's name,spoken in passing, had diverted Kresney's attention from his owndissatisfied thoughts.

  It chanced that he had met this same lady at Murree a year ago, andthat she had roundly snubbed his advances towards intimacy. Theunexpected mention of her name revived that sense of injury whichsmoulders in such natures like a live coal; and on the same instantawoke the desire to hit back with the readiest weapon available.

  Forgetful of the restriction imposed by the rigid code of themess-table, he launched the first disparaging comment that sprang tohis mind.

  Directly the sentence was out, he could have bitten his own tongue forpure vexation.

  It fell crisp and clear into a chasm of silence, as a dropped pebbleplashes into a well.

  The stillness lasted nearly a minute, and while it lasted Kresney feltthe fire of Desmond's glance through his lowered lids. Then some onehazarded a remark, and the incident was submerged in a renewed tide oftalk.

  When dinner broke up, with a general movement towards the ante-room,Kresney became aware that Desmond was at his side.

  "You will be good enough to come into the verandah with me," he hadsaid in a tone of command; and Kresney, feeling ignominiously like achidden schoolboy, had had no choice but to obey.

  Before that brief interview was ended, the man had heard the truthabout himself for the first time in his life, with the sole resultthat he registered in his heart an unquenchable hatred of the speaker.

  But Desmond had been in no mood just then to reckon withafter-results. All the inborn chivalry of the man was up in arms, lessagainst the spoken words than against the petty spite underlyingthem--the cowardly hit at a woman powerless to defend herself. In anunguarded moment he gave full vent to the scorn and disgust thatconsumed him, and lashed the man without mercy.

  Then--realising the utter inability to alter the other's peculiarpoint of view--natural magnanimity checked his impetuous outburst:

  "I don't know whether you are aware," he said, "that after to-night Ishould be justified in asking the Mess President to remove your namefrom the list of Honorary Members. But that is rather a strongmeasure, and I decided instead to speak a few straight words to youmyself. If they've been a trifle too straight, I am sorry. But remarksof the kind you made this evening are inadmissible at a mess-table;or, for that matter, at any other table where--gentlemen are present.Now, if you give me your word to keep the rules of the Mess strictlyin future, I will give you mine that this incident shall never bementioned to any one by me, or by any one of the fellows hereto-night."

  Kresney had given the required promise none too graciously. But hiseffort at perfunctory thanks stuck in his throat; nor did Desmondappear to expect them. With a brief reassurance in respect of his ownsilence he turned back into the Mess; and there, so far as externalswent, the incident had ended.

  * * * * *

  Yet, on this still March evening, as Kresney strolled back and forthon his narrow verandah, enjoying an after-dinner cigar, every detailof that detested interview darted across his memory for the hundredthtime, like a lightning-streak across a cloud. Wounded, in the mostsusceptible part of his nature, Kresney saw no reason to deny himselfthe satisfaction of hitting back. Whatever may have been hisprinciples in regard to debts in general, he was scrupulouslypunctilious in settling debts of malice,--indirectly, if possible; andin this instance personal antipathy added zest to the mere duty ofrepayment.

  Very early in the cold weather Kresney had become aware that aneffective weapon lay ready to his hand, and had taken it up withoutscruple or reluctance. Evelyn Desmond's natural lack of discernment,her blindness to the subtle impertinence of flattery, and her zeal fortennis--a game seldom patronised by cavalrymen,--had worked alltogether for good; and Kresney had gone forward accordingly, nothingloth.

  He had looked to the riding picnic to mark a definite step in advance,and Mrs Desmond's intention of inviting them was beyond doubt.Remained the inference that Desmond had used either authority orpersuasion to prevent it.

  The idea stirred up all the dregs of the man's soul. A suddenbitterness overwhelmed him--a sense of the futility of attempting tostrike at a man so obviously favoured by the gods; a man who held hishead so resolutely above the minor trivialities of life.

  But the will to strike would soon or late evolve a way. There wereother means of achieving intimacy with a woman as inexperienced aslittle Mrs Desmond, and he would get Linda to help him. Linda was agood girl, if a trifle stupid. At least she had the merit of believingin him and obeying his wishes with unquestioning fidelity--a verycreditable merit in the eyes of the average man.

  These reflections brought him to a standstill by one of the doors thatopened into the drawing-room. It was a long narrow room of anaggressively Anglo-Indian type--overcrowded with aimless tables,painted stools and chairs in crumpled bazaar muslins, or glossy withAspinall's enamel. The dingy walls were peppered with Japanese fans,China plates, liliputian brackets, and photographs in plush frames.Had Miss Kresney taken her stand on each door-sill in turn and flungher possessions, without aim or design, at the whitewashed spacesaround her, she could not have produced a more admired disorder. Thisshe recognised with a thrill of pride; for she aspired to be artistic,and some misguided friend had assured her that the one thing needfulwas to avoid symmetry or regularity in any form.

  Her own appearance harmonised admirably with her surroundings. Shewore the shapeless tea-gown beloved of her kind--made in the verandah,and finished with dingy lace at the neck and wrists, and even at thishour a suggestion of straw slippers showed beneath the limp silk ofher gown. Yet, as Evelyn Desmond saw her on the tennis-courts, she wasa neatly clad, angular girl of eight-and-twenty, with a suppressed,furtive air that was an unconscious reflection upon her brother'scharacter. In her he
art she cherished a lurking admiration forDesmond, and aspired to become the wife of a cavalry officer--HarryDenvil being the temporary hero of her dreams.

  When her brother entered the room she was fitfully engaged inperpetrating a crewel-work atrocity for one of her many chairs.

  He did not speak his thought at once, but stood looking down at hercritically through the smoke-wreaths of his cigar. The major share ofgood looks certainly rested with himself; but for eyes set too neartogether, and the relentless lines that envy and ill-humour pencilabout a man's mouth, the face was attractive enough, in its limitedfashion. He had the same air of being "off duty" which pervaded hissister, and his Japanese smoking-suit showed signs of being a very oldfriend indeed.

  "Look here, Linda," he began at last, "when are we playing tennisagain with little Mrs Desmond?"

  "I think it was Tuesday," she said.

  "Well, then, ask her to tea here first, d'you see?"

  Linda's brown eyes--it pleased her to call them hazel--widened withsurprise.

  "Oh, my! D'you think she would reallee come? It was nastee of her toleave us out of her picnic like that, after she told me all about it,too."

  Miss Kresney's insistence on the consonants and the final vowels wasmore marked than her brother's; for although three-fourths of theblood in her veins was English, very few of her intimate associatescould make so proud a boast without perjuring their souls: and thereare few things more infectious than tricks of speech.

  "Yes, of course," he acquiesced readily. "But I'm jolly well certainthat was not her doing. She'll come, right enough, if you ask hernicely. At all events it is worth trying, if only on the chance ofannoying her insufferable husband."

  "If you wish it, certainlee. I would like to be better friends withMrs Desmond. Only, I do not quite see why you dislike _him_ so muchmore than the others."

  Kresney hesitated before replying. It was not often that Linda aspiredto question either his motives or decisions; and he had begun tosuspect that her loyalty wavered, by a hair's-breadth, where Desmondwas concerned. After all, why not tell her an expurgated edition ofthe truth. The idea commended itself to him for many reasons, and evenas she was beginning to wonder at his silence he sat down beside herand spoke; the sting of humiliation stimulating his inventive facultyas he went on.

  Desmond himself would scarce have recognised the incident, but MissKresney was clearly impressed.

  "You see, Linda," her brother concluded, "a fellow can't be expectedto stand that sort of thing without hitting back, and I am trying tohit back a bit now. It is only fair. These Frontier Force chaps need alot of setting down, I can tell you. They fancy they hold all India intheir hands. And what is it they do after all, except play polo likemaniacs, and play all manner of foolish pranks at Mess? They make agod out of this Desmond, here; and the fellow is as proud as thedevil. He will be jolly well mad if his wife gets really friendly withme. As he will not ask us there, we will ask her here--you see? Andyou must be as nice as you can. Say pretty things to her--that pleasesher more than anything: and make yourself useful, if you get thechance. She's not half a bad little woman; and if you help me, Linda,I shall get in with her yet in spite of her conceited prig of ahusband."

  The smile that accompanied the words was not a pleasant one, but thegirl returned it with an uncritical fervour of affection.

  "You know I am always glad to please you, Owen. I am onlee sorree youdid not tell me all about it sooner."

  Her ready championship put him in high good-humour with himself andthe world at large.

  "You really _are_ no end of a good girl, Linda," he said, as he roseto his feet. "I shall ask Denvil to tea for you on Tuesday; and youshall have a new frock as soon as ever I get next month's pay. Not athing made in the verandah; but a good style of frock from Mussoorieor Lahore, whichever you please; and you can ask Mrs Desmond to helpyou choose it. Her dresses are always first class, and she isinterested in such things."