CHAPTER VII
FALSE PRETENCES
They were a merry party at mess that night. General Sir Reginald Bassettwas a man of the bluff soldierly order who knew how to command respectfrom his inferiors while at the same time he set them at their ease.There was no pomp and circumstance about him, yet in the whole of theIndian Empire there was not an officer more highly honoured and few whopossessed such wide influence as "old Sir Reggie," as irreverentsubalterns fondly called him.
The new arrival, Bernard Monck, diffused a genial atmosphere quiteunconsciously wherever he went, and he and the old Indian soldiergravitated towards each other almost instinctively. Colonel Mansfielddeclared later that they made it impossible for him to maintain order,so spontaneous and so infectious was the gaiety that ran round theboard. Even Major Ralston's leaden sense of humour was stirred. As Tommyhad declared, it promised to be a historic occasion.
When the time for toasts arrived and, after the usual routine, theColonel proposed the health of their honoured guest of the evening, SirReginald interposed with a courteous request that that of their otherguest might be coupled with his, and the dual toast was drunk withacclamations.
"I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing more of you during your stayin India," the General remarked to his fellow-guest when he had returnedthanks and quiet was restored. "You have come for the winter, Ipresume."
Bernard laughed. "Well, no, sir, though I shall hope to see it through.I am not globe-trotting, and times and seasons don't affect me much. Myonly reason for coming out at all was to see my brother here. You see,we haven't met for a good many years."
The statement was quite casually made, but Major Burton, who was seatednext to him, made a sharp movement as if startled. He was a man whoprided himself upon his astuteness in discovering discrepancies in eventhe most truthful stories.
"Didn't you meet last year when he went Home?" he said.
"Last year! No. He wasn't Home last year." Bernard looked full at hisquestioner, understanding neither his tone nor look.
A sudden silence had fallen near them; it spread like a widening ringupon disturbed waters.
Major Burton spoke, in his voice, a queer, scoffing inflection. "He wasabsent on Home leave anyway. We all understood--were given tounderstand--that you had sent him an urgent summons."
"I?" For an instant Bernard Monck stared in genuine bewilderment. Thenabruptly he turned to his brother who was listening inscrutably on theother side of the table. "Some mistake here, Everard," he said. "Youhaven't been Home for seven years or more have you?"
There was dead silence in the room as he put the question--a silence, sofull of expectancy as to be almost painful. Across the table the eyes ofthe two brothers met and held.
Then, "I have not," said Everard Monck with quiet finality.
There was no note of challenge in his voice, neither was there anydismay. But the effect of his words upon every man present was as if hehad flung a bomb into their midst. The silence endured tensely for acouple of seconds, then there came a hard breath and a general movementas if by common consent the company desired to put an end to asituation, that had become unendurable.
Bertie Oakes dug Tommy in the ribs, but Tommy was as white as death anddid not even feel it. Something had happened, something that made himfeel giddy and very sick. That significant silence was to him nothingshort of tragedy. He had seen his hero topple at a touch from the highpinnacle on which he had placed him, and he felt as if the very groundunder his feet had become a quicksand.
As in a maze of shifting impressions he heard Sir Reginald valiantlycovering the sudden breach, talking inconsequently in a language whichTommy could not even recognize as his own. And the Colonel was secondinghis efforts, while Major Burton sat frowning at the end of his cigar asif he were trying to focus his sight upon something infinitesimal andelusive. No one looked at Monck, in fact everyone seemed studiously toavoid doing so. Even his brother seemed lost in meditation with his eyesfixed immovably upon a lamp that hung from the ceiling and swayedponderously in the draught.
Then at last there came a definite move, and Bertie Oakes poked himagain. "Are you moonstruck?" he said.
Tommy got up with the rest, still feeling sick and oddly unsure ofhimself. He pushed his brother-subaltern aside as if he had been aninanimate object, and somehow, groping, found his way to the door andout to the entrance for a breath of air.
It was raining heavily and the odour of a thousand intangible thingshung in the atmosphere. For a space he leaned in the doorwayundisturbed; then, heralded by the smell of a rank cigar, Ralstonlounged up and joined him.
"Are you looking for a safe corner to catch fever in?" he inquiredphlegmatically, after a pause.
Tommy made a restless movement, but spoke no word.
Ralston smoked for a space in silence. From behind them there came therattle of billiard-balls and careless clatter of voices. Before them wasa pall-like darkness and the endless patter of rain.
Suddenly Ralston spoke. "Make no mistake!" he said. "There's a reasonfor everything."
The words sounded irrelevant; they even had a sententious ring. YetTommy turned towards him with an impulsive gesture of gratitude.
"Of course!" he said.
Ralston relapsed into a ruminating silence. A full minute elapsed beforehe spoke again. Then: "You don't like taking advice I know," he said, inhis stolid, somewhat gruff fashion. "But if you're wise, you'll swallowa stiff dose of quinine before you turn in. Good-night!"
He swung round on his heel and walked away. Tommy knew that he had gonefor his nightly game of chess with Major Burton and would not exchangeso much as another half-dozen words with any one during the rest of theevening.
He himself remained for a while where he was, recovering his balance;then at length donned his mackintosh, and tramped forth into the night.Ralston was right. Doubtless there was a reason. He would stake his lifeon Everard's honour whatever the odds.
In a quiet corner of the ante-room sat Everard Monck, deeply immersed ina paper. Near him a group of bridge-players played an almost silentgame. Sir Reginald and his brother had followed the youngsters to thebilliard-room, the Colonel had accompanied them, but after a decentinterval he left the guests to themselves and returned to the ante-room.
He passed the bridge-players by and came to Monck. The latter glanced upat his approach.
"Are you looking for me, sir?"
"If you can spare me a moment, I shall be glad," the Colonel saidformally.
Monck rose instantly. His dark face had a granite-like look as hefollowed his superior officer from the room. The bridge-players watchedhim with furtive attention, and resumed their game in silence.
The Colonel led the way back to the mess-room, now deserted. "I shallnot keep you long," he said, as Monck shut the door and moved forward."But I must ask of you an explanation of the fact which came to lightthis evening." He paused a moment, but Monck spoke no word, and hecontinued with growing coldness. "Rather more than a year ago yourefused a Government mission, for which your services were urgentlyrequired, on the plea of pressing business at Home. You had Homeleave--at a time when we were under-officered--to carry this businessthrough. Now, Captain Monck, will you be good enough to tell me how andwhere you spent that leave? Whatever you say I shall treat asconfidential."
He still spoke formally, but the usual rather pompous kindliness of hisface had given place to a look of acute anxiety.
Monck stood at the table, gazing straight before him. "You have aperfect right to ask, sir," he said, after a moment. "But I am not in aposition to answer."
"In other words, you refuse to answer?" The Colonel's voice had a raspin it, but that also held more of anxiety than anger.
Monck turned and directly faced him. "I am compelled to refuse," hesaid.
There was a brief silence. Colonel Mansfield was looking at him as if hewould read him through and through. But no stone mask could have beenmore impenetrable than Monck's face as he stood stiffly
waiting.
When the Colonel spoke again it was wholly without emotion. His tonesfell cold and measured. "You obtained that leave upon false pretences?You had no urgent business?"
Monck answered him with machine-like accuracy. "Yes, sir, I deceivedyou. But my business was urgent nevertheless. That is my only excuse."
"Was it in connection with some Secret Service requirement?" TheColonel's tone was strictly judicial now; he had banished all feelingfrom face and manner.
And again, like a machine, Monck made his curt reply. "No, sir."
"There was nothing official about it?"
"Nothing."
"I am to conclude then--" again the rasp was in the Colonel's voice, butit sounded harsher now--"that the business upon which you absentedyourself was strictly private and personal?"
"It was, sir."
The commanding officer's brows contracted heavily. "Am I also toconclude that it was something of a dishonourable nature?" he asked.
Monck made a scarcely perceptible movement. It was as if the point hadsomehow pierced his armour. But he covered it instantly. "Yourdeductions are of your own making, sir," he said.
"I see." The Colonel's tone was openly harsh. "You are ashamed to tellme the truth. Well, Captain Monck, I cannot compel you to do so. But itwould have been better for your own sake if you had taken up a lessreticent attitude. Of course I realize that there are certain shamefuloccasions regarding which any man must keep silence, but I had notthought you capable of having a secret of that description to guard. Ithink it very doubtful if General Bassett will now require your servicesupon his staff."
He paused. Monck's hands were clenched and rigid, but he spoke no word,and gave no other sign of emotion.
"You have nothing to say to me?" the Colonel asked, and for a moment theofficial air was gone. He spoke as one man to another and almost withentreaty.
But, "Nothing, sir," said Monck firmly, and the moment passed.
The Colonel turned aside. "Very well," he said briefly.
Monck swung round and opened the door for him, standing as stiffly as asoldier on parade.
He went out without a backward glance.