CHAPTER IX. THE GENERAL ORDER
Sir Terence sat alone in his spacious, severely furnished private roomin the official quarters at Monsanto. On the broad carved writing-tablebefore him there was a mass of documents relating to the clothing andaccoutrement of the forces, to leaves of absence, to staff appointments;there were returns from the various divisions of the sick and woundedin hospital, from which a complete list was to be prepared for theSecretary of State for War at home; there were plans of the lines atTorres Vedras just received, indicating the progress of the works atvarious points; and there were documents and communications of all kindsconcerned with the adjutant-general's multifarious and arduous duties,including an urgent letter from Colonel Fletcher suggesting that theCommander-in-Chief should take an early opportunity of inspecting inperson the inner lines of fortification.
Sir Terence, however, sat back in his chair, his work neglected, hiseyes dreamily gazing through the open window, but seeing nothing of thesun-drenched landscape beyond, a heavy frown darkening his bronzed andrugged face. His mind was very far from his official duties and the massof reminders before him--this Augean stable of arrears. He was lost inthought of his wife and Tremayne.
Five days had elapsed since the ball at Count Redondo's, where SirTerence had surprised the pair together in the garden and his suspicionshad been fired by the compromising attitude in which he had discoveredthem. Tremayne's frank, easy bearing, so unassociable with guilt, had,as we know, gone far, to reassure him, and had even shamed him, so thathe had trampled his suspicions underfoot. But other things had happenedsince to revive his bitter doubts. Daily, constantly, had he been comingupon Tremayne and Lady O'Moy alone together in intimate, confidentialtalk which was ever silenced on his approach. The two had taken towandering by themselves in the gardens at all hours, a thing that hadnever been so before, and O'Moy detected, or imagined that he detected,a closer intimacy between them, a greater warmth towards the captain onthe part of her ladyship.
Thus matters had reached a pass in which peace of mind was impossible tohim. It was not merely what he saw, it was his knowledge of what was; itwas his ever-present consciousness of his own age and his wife's youth;it was the memory of his ante-nuptial jealousy of Tremayne which hadbeen awakened by the gossip of those days--a gossip that pronouncedTremayne Una Butler's poor suitor, too poor either to declare himself orto be accepted if he did. The old wound which that gossip had dealt himthen was reopened now. He thought of Tremayne's manifest concern forUna; he remembered how in that very room some six weeks ago, whenButler's escapade had first been heard of, it was from avowed concernfor Una that Tremayne had urged him to befriend and rescue his rascallybrother-in-law. He remembered, too, with increasing bitterness that itwas Una herself had induced him to appoint Tremayne to his staff.
There were moments when the conviction of Tremayne's honesty, thethought of Tremayne's unswerving friendship for himself, would surge upto combat and abate the fires of his devastating jealousy.
But evidence would kindle those fires anew until they flamed up toscorch his soul with shame and anger. He had been a fool in that he hadmarried a woman of half his years; a fool in that he had suffered herformer lover to be thrown into close association with her.
Thus he assured himself. But he would abide by his folly, and so mustshe. And he would see to it that whatever fruits that folly yielded,dishonour should not be one of them. Through all his darkening ragethere beat the light of reason. To avert, he bethought him, was betterthan to avenge. Nor were such stains to be wiped out by vengeance. Acuckold remains a cuckold though he take the life of the man who hasreduced him to that ignominy.
Tremayne must go before the evil transcended reparation. Let him returnto his regiment and do his work of sapping and mining elsewhere than inO'Moy's household.
Eased by that resolve he rose, a tall, martial figure, youth and energyin every line of it for all his six and forty years. Awhile he paced theroom in thought. Then, suddenly, with hands clenched behind his back, hechecked by the window, checked on a horrible question that had flashedupon his tortured mind. What if already the evil should be irreparable?What proof had he that it was not so?
The door opened, and Tremayne himself came in quickly.
"Here's the very devil to pay, sir," he announced, with that odd mixtureof familiarity towards his friend and deference to his chief.
O'Moy looked at him in silence with smouldering, questioning eyes,thinking of anything but the trouble which the captain's air and mannerheralded.
"Captain Stanhope has just arrived from headquarters with messages foryou. A terrible thing has happened, sir. The dispatches from home by theThunderbolt which we forwarded from here three weeks ago reached LordWellington only the day before yesterday."
Sir Terence became instantly alert.
"Garfield, who carried them, came into collision at Penalva with anofficer of Anson's Brigade. There was a meeting, and Garfield was shotthrough the lung. He lay between life and death for a fortnight,with the result that the dispatches were delayed until he recoveredsufficiently to remember them and to have them forwarded by other hands.But you had better see Stanhope himself."
The aide-de-camp came in. He was splashed from head to foot in witnessof the fury with which he had ridden, his hair was caked with dust andhis face haggard. But he carried himself with soldierly uprightness, andhis speech was brisk. He repeated what Tremayne had already stated, withsome few additional details.
"This wretched fellow sent Lord Wellington a letter dictated from hisbed, in which he swore that the duel was forced upon him, and that hishonour allowed him no alternative. I don't think any feature of the casehas so deeply angered Lord Wellington as this stupid plea. He mentionedthat when Sir John Moore was at Herrerias, in the course of his retreatupon Corunna, he sent forward instructions for the leading division tohalt at Lugo, where he designed to deliver battle if the enemy wouldaccept it. That dispatch was carried to Sir David Baird by one of SirJohn's aides, but Sir David forwarded it by the hand of a trooper whogot drunk and lost it. That, says Lord Wellington, is the only parallel,so far as he is aware, of the present case, with this difference, thatwhilst a common trooper might so far fail to appreciate the importanceof his mission, no such lack of appreciation can excuse CaptainGarfield."
"I am glad of that," said Sir Terence, who had been bristling. "For amoment I imagined that it was to be implied I had been as indiscreet inmy choice of a messenger as Sir David Baird."
"No, no, Sir Terence. I merely repeated Lord Wellington's words thatyou may realise how deeply angered he is. If Garfield recovers fromhis wound he will be tried by court-martial. He is under open arrestmeanwhile, as is his opponent in the duel--a Major Sykes of the 23rdDragoons. That they will both be broke is beyond doubt. But that is notall. This affair, which might have had such grave consequences, comingso soon upon the heels of Major Berkeley's business, has driven LordWellington to a step regarding which this letter will instruct you."
Sir Terence broke the seal. The letter, penned by a secretary, butbearing Wellington's own signature, ran as follows:
"The bearer, Captain Stanhope, will inform you of the particulars ofthis disgraceful business of Captain Garfield's. The affair followingso soon upon that of Major Berkeley has determined me to make it clearlyunderstood to the officers in his Majesty's service that they have beensent to the Peninsula to fight the French and not each other or membersof the civilian population. While this campaign continues, and as longas I am in charge of it, I am determined not to suffer upon any pleawhatever the abominable practice of duelling among those under mycommand. I desire you to publish this immediately in general orders,enjoining upon officers of all ranks without exception the necessity topostpone the settlement of private quarrels at least until the closeof this campaign. And to add force to this injunction you will makeit known that any infringement of this order will be considered as acapital offence; that any officer hereafter either sending or acceptinga challenge will,
if found guilty by a general court-martial, beimmediately shot."
Sir Terence nodded slowly.
"Very well," he said. "The measure is most wise, although I doubt if itwill be popular. But, then, unpopularity is the fate of wise measures.I am glad the matter has not ended more seriously. The dispatches inquestion, so far as I can recollect, were not of great urgency."
"There is something more," said Captain Stanhope. "The dispatches boresigns of having been tampered with."
"Tampered with?" It was a question from Tremayne, charged withincredulity. "But who would have tampered with them?"
"There were signs, that is all. Garfield was taken to the house of theparish priest, where he lay lost until he recovered sufficiently torealise his position for himself. No doubt you will have a schedule ofthe contents of the dispatch, Sir Terence?"
"Certainly. It is in your possession, I think, Tremayne."
Tremayne turned to his desk, and a brief search in one of itswell-ordered drawers brought to light an oblong strip of paper foldedand endorsed. He unfolded and spread it on Sir Terence's table, whilstCaptain Stanhope, producing a note with which he came equipped, stoopedto check off the items. Suddenly he stopped, frowned, and finally placedhis finger under one of the lines of Tremayne's schedule, carefullystudying his own note for a moment.
"Ha!" he said quietly at last. "What's this?" And he read: "'Note fromLord Liverpool of reinforcements to be embarked for Lisbon in June orJuly.'" He looked at the adjutant and the adjutant's secretary. "Thatwould appear to be the most important document of all--indeed theonly document of any vital importance. And it was not included in thedispatch as it reached Lord Wellington."
The three looked gravely at one another in silence.
"Have you a copy of the note, sir?" inquired the aide-de-camp.
"Not a copy--but a summary of its contents, the figures it contained,are pencilled there on the margin," Tremayne answered.
"Allow me, sir," said Stanhope, and taking up a quill from theadjutant's table he rapidly copied the figures. "Lord Wellington musthave this memorandum as soon as possible. The rest, Sir Terence, isof course a matter for yourself. You will know what to do. Meanwhile Ishall report to his lordship what has occurred. I had best set out atonce."
"If you will rest for an hour, and give my wife the pleasure of yourcompany at luncheon, I shall have a letter ready for Lord Wellington,"replied Sir Terence. "Perhaps you'll see to it, Tremayne," he added,without waiting for Captain Stanhope's answer to an invitation whichamounted to a command.
Thus Stanhope was led away, and Sir Terence, all other matters forgottenfor the moment, sat down to write his letter.
Later in the day, after Captain Stanhope had taken his departure, theduty fell to Tremayne of framing the general order and seeing to thedispatch of a copy to each division.
"I wonder," he said to Sir Terence, "who will be the first to break it?"
"Why, the fool who's most anxious to be broke himself," answered SirTerence.
There appeared to be reservations about it in Tremayne's mind.
"It's a devilish stringent regulation," he criticised.
"But very salutary and very necessary."
"Oh, quite." Tremayne's agreement was unhesitating. "But I shouldn'tcare to feel the restraint of it, and I thank heaven I have no enemythirsting for my blood."
Sir Terence's brow darkened. His face was turned away from hissecretary. "How can a man be confident of that?" he wondered.
"Oh, a clean conscience, I suppose," laughed Tremayne, and he gave hisattention to his papers.
Frankness, honesty and light-heartedness rang so clear in the words thatthey sowed in Sir Terence's mind fresh doubts of the galling suspicionhe had been harbouring.
"Do you boast a clean conscience, eh, Ned?" he asked, not without alurking shame at this deliberate sly searching of the other's mind. Yethe strained his ears for the answer.
"Almost clean," said Tremayne. "Temptation doesn't stain when it'sresisted, does it?"
Sir Terence trembled. But he controlled himself.
"Nay, now, that's a question for the casuists. They right answer youthat it depends upon the temptation." And he asked point-blank: "What'stempting you?"
Tremayne was in a mood for confidences, and Sir Terence was his friend.But he hesitated. His answer to the question was an irrelevance.
"It's just hell to be poor, O'Moy," he said.
The adjutant turned to stare at him. Tremayne was sitting with his headresting on one hand, the fingers thrusting through the crisp fair hair,and there was gloom in his clear-cut face, a dullness in the usuallykeen grey eyes.
"Is there anything on your mind?" quoth Sir Terence.
"Temptation," was the answer. "It's an unpleasant thing to struggleagainst."
"But you spoke of poverty?"
"To be sure. If I weren't poor I could put my fortunes to the test, andmake an end of the matter one way or the other."
There was a pause. "Sure I hope I am the last man to force a confidence,Ned," said O'Moy. "But you certainly seem as if it would do you good toconfide."
Tremayne shook himself mentally. "I think we had better deal with thematter of this dispatch that was tampered with at Penalva."
"So we will, to be sure. But it can wait a minute." Sir Terence pushedback his chair, and rose. He crossed slowly to his secretary's side."What's on your mind, Ned?" he asked with abrupt solicitude, and Nedcould not suspect that it was the matter on Sir Terence's own mind thatwas urging him--but urging him hopefully.
Captain Tremayne looked up with a rueful smile. "I thought you boastedthat you never forced a confidence." And then he looked away. "SylviaArmytage tells me that she is thinking of returning to England."
For a moment the words seemed to Sir Terence a fresh irrelevance;another attempt to change the subject. Then quite suddenly a light brokeupon his mind, shedding a relief so great and joyous that he sought tocheck it almost in fear.
"It is more than she has told me," he answered steadily. "But then, nodoubt, you enjoy her confidence."
Tremayne flashed him a wry glance and looked away again.
"Alas!" he said, and fetched a sigh.
"And is Sylvia the temptation, Ned?"
Tremayne was silent for a while, little dreaming how Sir Terence hungupon his answer, how impatiently he awaited it.
"Of course," he said at last. "Isn't it obvious to any one?" And he grewrhapsodical: "How can a man be daily in her company without succumbingto her loveliness, to her matchless grace of body and of mind, withoutperceiving that she is incomparable, peerless, as much above other womenas an angel perhaps might be above herself?"
Before his glum solemnity, and before something else that Tremayne couldnot suspect, Sir Terence exploded into laughter. Of the immense andjoyous relief in it his secretary caught no hint; all he heard was itssheer amusement, and this galled and shamed him. For no man cares to belaughed at for such feelings as Tremayne had been led into betraying.
"You think it something to laugh at?" he said tartly.
"Laugh, is it?" spluttered Sir Terence. "God grant I don't burst ablood-vessel."
Tremayne reddened. "When you've indulged your humour, sir," he saidstiffly, "perhaps you'll consider the matter of this dispatch."
But Sir Terence laughed more uproariously than ever. He came to standbeside Tremayne, and slapped him heartily on the shoulder.
"Ye'll kill me, Ned!" he protested. "For God's sake, not so glum. It'sthat makes ye ridiculous."
"I am sorry you find me ridiculous."
"Nay, then, it's glad ye ought to be. By my soul, if Sylvia tempts you,man, why the devil don't ye just succumb and have done with it? She'shandsome enough and well set up with her air of an Amazon, and she ridesuncommon straight, begad! Indeed it's a broth of a girl she is in thehunting-field, the ballroom, or at the breakfast-table, although riperacquaintance may discover her not to be quite all that you imagine herat present. Let your temptation lead you then, entirel
y, and good luckto you, my boy."
"Didn't I tell you, O'Moy," answered the captain, mollified a littleby the sympathy and good feeling peeping through the adjutant'sboisterousness, "that poverty is just hell. It's my poverty that's inthe way."
"And is that all? Then it's thankful you should be that Sylvia Armytagehas got enough for two."
"That's just it."
"Just what?"
"The obstacle. I could marry a poor woman. But Sylvia--"
"Have you spoken to her?"
Tremayne was indignant. "How do you suppose I could?"
"It'll not have occurred to you that the lady may have feelings whichhaving aroused you ought to be considering?"
A wry smile and a shake of the head was Tremayne's only answer; and thenCarruthers came in fresh from Lisbon, where he had been upon businessconnected with the commissariat, and to Tremayne's relief the subjectwas perforce abandoned.
Yet he marvelled several times that day that the hilarity he should haveawakened in Sir Terence continued to cling to the adjutant, and thatdespite the many vexatious matters claiming attention he should preservean irrepressible and almost boyish gaiety.
Meanwhile, however, the coming of Carruthers had brought the adjutanta moment's seriousness, and he reverted to the business of CaptainGarfield. When he had mentioned the missing note, Carruthers veryproperly became grave. He was a short, stiffly built man with a round,good-humoured, rather florid face.
"The matter must be probed at once, sir," he ventured. "We know that wemove in a tangle of intrigues and espionage. But such a thing as thishas never happened before. Have you anything to go upon?"
"Captain Stanhope gave us nothing," said the adjutant.
"It would be best perhaps to get Grant to look into it," said Tremayne.
"If he is still in Lisbon," said Sir Terence.
"I passed him in the street an hour ago," replied Carruthers.
"Then by all means let a note be sent to him asking him if he will stepup to Monsanto as soon as he conveniently can. You might see to it,Tremayne."