CHAPTER III
THE LOVE-SONG OF HAR DYAL
The bugler was sounding the second mess-call as the Resident's carriagedrew up before the steps of the Mess verandah on which stood all theofficers of the regiment, dressed in the white drill uniform worn atdinner in India during the hot weather. From the carriage Major Norton,a stout, middle-aged man in civilian evening dress, descended stifflyand shook hands with the Commandant of the battalion, Colonel Trevor,who had come down the steps to meet him and whose guest he was to be.
On the verandah Wargrave was introduced to him by the Colonel and tookhis outstretched hand with reluctance; for Frank felt stirring in him afaint jealousy of the man who was Violet's legal lord and an indefinitehostility to him for not appreciating his charming wife as he ought. Andwhile the Resident was shaking hands with the others Wargrave looked athim with interest.
Major Norton was a very ordinary-looking man, more elderly in appearancethan his years warranted. He was bald and clean-shaved but for scraps ofside-whiskers that gave him a resemblance to the traditionalstage-lawyer of amateur theatricals, a likeness increased by his heavyand prosy manner. It was hard to believe that he had ever been a youngsubaltern, though such had once been the case, for the Indian PoliticalDepartment is recruited chiefly from officers of the Indian Army. But hewas never the gay and light-hearted individual that most junior subs.are at the beginning of their career. Even then he had been a sober andserious individual, favourably noted by his superiors as being earnestand painstaking. And now he was well thought of by the Heads of hisDepartment; for his plodding and methodical disposition and his slavishadherence to rules and regulations had earned him the reputation ofbeing an eminently "safe" man. How such a gay, laughter-loving,coquettish and attractive woman as Violet Dering came to marry one soentirely her opposite puzzled everyone who did not know the innerhistory of a girl, one of a large family of daughters, given "her chancein life" by being sent out to relatives in Calcutta for one season, witha definite warning not to return home unmarried under penalty of beingturned out to face the world as a governess or hospital nurse. AndViolet liked comfort and hated work.
During dinner Wargrave found himself instinctively criticising Norton'smanner and conversation, and rapidly arrived at the conclusion thatRaymond had described him accurately. The Resident, though a very worthyindividual, was undoubtedly a bore; and Colonel Trevor, beside whom hesat, strove in vain to appear interested in his conversation. For he hadheard his opinions on every subject on which Norton had any opinionsover and over again. As the Resident was the only other European in thestation he dined regularly at the Mess on the weekly Guest Night withone or other of the officers. He was not popular among them, but theyconsidered it their duty to be victimised in turn to uphold theregiment's reputation for hospitality; and in consequence each resignedhimself to act as his host.
After dinner, as the Resident played neither cards nor billiards, theColonel sat out on the verandah with him, all the while longing to be atthe bridge-table inside; and, as his guest was a strict teetotaller, hedid not like to order a drink for himself. So he tried to keep awake andhide his yawns while listening to a prosy monologue on insects until theResidency carriage came to take Major Norton away.
When his guest had left, the Colonel entered the anteroom heaving a sighof relief.
"Phew! thank God that's over!" he exclaimed piously. "Really, Nortonbecomes more of a bore every day. I'm sick to death of hearing thelife-story of every Indian insect for the hundredth time. I'll dream of_coleoptera_ and Polly 'optera and other weird beasties to-night."
The other officers looked up and laughed. Ross rose from thebridge-table and said:
"Come and take my place, sir; we've finished the rubber. Have a drink;you want something to cheer you up after that infliction. Boy!whiskey-soda Commanding Sahib _ke waste lao_. (Bring a whiskey and sodafor the Commanding officer.)"
"You've my entire sympathy, Colonel," said Major Hepburn, the Second inCommand. "It's my turn to ask the Resident to dinner next. I feeltempted to go on the sick-list to escape it."
"I say, sir, I've got a good idea," said an Irish subaltern named Daly,who was seated at the bridge-table. "Couldn't we pass a resolution atthe next Mess meeting that in future no guests are ever to be asked todinner? That will save us from our weekly penance."
The others laughed; but the Colonel, whose sense of humour was not hisstrong point, took the suggestion as being seriously meant.
"No, no; we couldn't do that," he said in an alarmed tone. "The Residentwould be very offended and might mention it to the General when he comeshere on his annual inspection."
The remark was very characteristic of Colonel Trevor, who was a man whodreaded responsibility and whose sole object in life was to reach safelythe time when, his period of command being finished, he could retire onhis full pension. He was always haunted by the dread that somecarelessness or mistake on his part or that of any of his subordinatesmight involve him in trouble with his superiors and prevent that happyconsummation of his thirty years of Indian service. This fear made himmerciless to anyone under him whose conduct might bring the censure ofthe higher authorities on the innocent head of the Commanding Officerwho was in theory responsible for the behaviour of his juniors. It wascommonly said in the regiment that he would cheerfully give up his ownbrother to be hanged to save himself the mildest official reprimand.Perhaps he was not altogether to blame; for he was not his own master inprivate life. It was hinted that Colonel Trevor commanded the battalionbut that Mrs. Trevor commanded him. And unfortunately there was no doubtthat this lady interfered privately a good deal in regimental matters,much to the annoyance of the other officers.
Now, relieved of the incubus that had hitherto spoiled his enjoyment ofthe evening, the Colonel gratefully drank the whiskey and soda broughthim by Ross's order and sat down cheerfully to play bridge. He alwaysliked dining in the Mess, where he was a far more important person thanhe was in his own house.
It did not take Wargrave long to settle down again into the routine ofregimental life and the humdrum existence of a small Indian station. Buthe had never before been quartered in so remote and dull a spot asRohar. The only distractions it offered besides the shooting andpigsticking were two tennis afternoons weekly, one at the Residency, theother at the Mess. Here the dozen or so Europeans, who knew every lineof each other's faces by heart gathered regularly from sheer boredomwhether the game amused them or not. Neither Mrs. Trevor nor herbosom-friend Mrs. Baird, the regimental surgeon's better half, everattempted it; but they invariably attended and sat together, usuallytalking scandal of Mrs. Norton as she played or chatted with the men.Mrs. Trevor's chief grievance against her was that the GeneralCommanding the Division, when he came to inspect the battalion, took theyounger woman in to dinner, for, as her husband the Resident was theViceroy's representative, she could claim precedence over the wife of amere regimental commandant. No English village is so full of pettysquabbles and malicious gossip as a small Indian station.
Like everyone else in the land Wargrave hated most those terrible hoursof the hot weather between nine in the morning and five in theafternoon. He and Raymond passed them, like so many thousands of theirkind elsewhere, shut up in their comfortless bungalow, which wasdarkened and closely shuttered to exclude the awful heat and theblinding glare outside. Too hot to read or write, almost to smoke, theylay in long cane chairs, gasping and perspiring freely, while thewhining _punkah_ overhead barely stirred the heated air. One exteriorwindow on the windward side of the bungalow was filled with a thick matof dried and odorous _kuskus_ grass, against which every quarter of anhour the _bheestie_ threw water to wet it thoroughly so that the hotbreeze that swept over the burning sand outside might enter cooled bythe evaporation of the water.
But Frank found alleviation and comfort in frequent visits to theResidency, where Mrs. Norton and he spent the baking hours of theafternoon absorbed in making music or singing duets. For Violet had awell-trained voice which ha
rmonised well with his. No thought of sexseemed to obtrude itself on them. They were just playmates, comrades,nothing more.
Yet it was only natural that the woman's vanity should be flattered bythe man's eagerness to seek her society and by his evident pleasure init. And it was delightful to have at last a sympathetic listener to allher little grievances, one who seemed as interested in her pettyhousehold worries or the delinquencies of her London milliner in failingto execute her orders properly as in her greater complaint against thefate that condemned a woman of her artistic and gaiety-loving nature toexistence in the wilds and to the society of persons so uncongenial toher as were the majority of the white folk of Rohar.
To a man the role of confidant to a pretty woman is pleasant andflattering; and Wargrave felt that he was highly favoured by being madethe recipient of her confidences. It never occurred to him that theremight be danger in the situation. He regarded her only as a friend inneed of sympathy and help. His chivalry was up in arms at the thoughtthat she was not properly appreciated by her husband, who, he began tosuspect, was inclined to neglect her and treat her as a mere chattel.The suspicion angered him. True, Violet had never definitely told himso; but he gathered as much from her unconscious admissions and reveredher all the more for her bravery in endeavouring to keep silent on thesubject.
Certainly Major Norton did not seem to him to be a man capable ofunderstanding and valuing so sweet and rare a woman as this. After theirintroduction in the Mess Frank's next meeting with him was at his owntable at the Residency, when in due course Wargrave was invited todinner after his duty call. Raymond was asked as well; and the twosubalterns were the only guests.
Their hostess looked very lovely in a Paris-made gown of a green shadethat suited her colouring admirably. England did not seem to the youngsoldiers so very far away when this charming and exquisitely-dressedwoman received them in her large drawing-room from which all trace ofthe East in furniture and decoration was carefully excluded. For theEnglish in India try to avoid in their homes all that would remind themof the Land of Exile in which their lot is cast.
Major Norton came into the room after his guests, muttering anunintelligible apology. He shook hands with them with an abstracted airand failed to recall Wargrave's name. At table he asked Frank a fewperfunctory questions and then wandered off into his inevitable subject,entomology, but finding him ignorant of and uninterested in it heengaged in a desultory conversation with Raymond. He soon tired of thisand for the most part ate his dinner in silence. He never addressed hiswife; and Wargrave, watching them, pitied her if her husband was aslittle companionable at meal-times when they were alone. He pictured hersitting at table every day with this abstracted and uncommunicative man,whose thoughts seemed far from his present company and surroundings andwho was scarcely likely to exert himself to talk to and entertain hiswife when he made so little effort to do so to his guests.
Determined that on this occasion at least his hostess should be amusedFrank did his best to enliven the meal. He described to her as well ashe could all that he remembered of the latest fashions in England, toldher the plots of the newest plays at the London theatres, repeated afew laughable stories to make her smile and provoked Raymond, who had adry humour of his own, to a contest of wit. Between them the twosubalterns brightened up what had threatened to be a dull evening. Mrs.Norton laughed gaily and helped to keep the ball rolling; and even thehost in his turn woke up and actually attempted to tell a humorousstory. It certainly lacked point; but he seemed satisfied that it wasfunny, so his guests smiled as in duty bound. But Wargrave noted Mrs.Norton's look of astonishment at this new departure on the part of herhusband and thought that there was something very pathetic in hersurprise. When the meal was ended she laughingly declined to leave themen over their wine and stayed to smoke a cigarette with them.
When they all quitted the dining-room the Resident asked his guests toexcuse him for returning to his study, pleading urgent and importantwork; and his wife led the subalterns up to the drawing-room and out onto the verandah that ran alongside its French windows. Here easy chairsand a table with a big lamp had been placed for them. As soon as theywere seated one of the stately _chuprassis_ brought coffee, whileanother proffered cigars and cigarettes and held a light from a silverspirit-lamp. Then both the solemn servitors departed noiselessly on barefeet.
After some conversation Mrs. Norton said to the adjutant:
"Do you remember, Mr. Raymond, that you have promised to take me outshooting one day?"
"I haven't forgotten," he replied; "but I was not able to arrange it, asthe Maharajah had pigsticking meets fixed up for all our free days. ButI don't think we'll have another for some time; for I hear that HisHighness is laid up from the effects of his fall. So we might go outsome day soon."
"Good. When shall we go?" asked Wargrave. "Let's fix it up now."
"What about next Thursday?" said his friend, turning to Mrs. Norton.
"Yes; that will suit me. Where shall we go?"
"There are a lot of partridge and a few hares, I'm told, near the tankat Marwa, where there is a good deal of cultivation," answered Raymond.Then turning to his friend he continued:
"You are not very keen on small game shooting, Frank; so you can bringyour rifle and try for _chinkara_. I saw a buck and a couple of doethere not very long ago. A little venison would be very acceptable inMess."
"The tank is about eight miles away, isn't it?" said the hostess. "I'llwrite to the Maharajah and ask him to lend us camels to take us out. Mycook will put up a good cold lunch for us."
She rose from her chair and continued:
"Now, Mr. Wargrave, come and sing something. I've been trying overthose new songs of yours to-day."
She led the way into the drawing-room and Raymond was left alone on theverandah to smoke and listen for the rest of the evening, while theothers forgot him as they played and sang.
Suddenly he sat up in his chair and with a queer little pang of jealousyin his heart stared through the open window at the couple at the piano.He watched his friend's face turned eagerly towards his hostess.Wargrave was gazing intently at her as in a voice full of feeling andpathos, a voice with a plaintive little tone in it that thrilled himstrangely, she sang that haunting melody "The Love Song of Har Dyal."Wistfully, sadly, she uttered the sorrowful words that Kipling puts intothe mouth of the lovelorn Pathan maiden:
"My father's wife is old and harsh with years, And drudge of all my father's house am I. My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears, Come back to me, Beloved, or I die! Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!"
And the singer looked up into the eager eyes bent on her and sighed alittle as she struck the final chords. Out on the verandah Raymondfrowned as he watched them and wondered if this woman was to comebetween them and take his friend from him. Just then the bare-footedservants entered the room, carrying silver trays on which stood thewhiskies and sodas that are the stirrup-cups, the hints to guests thatthe time of departure has come, of dinner-parties in India.
As the two subalterns drove home in Raymond's trap through the hotIndian night under a moon shining with a brilliance that England neverknows, Wargrave hummed "The Love Song of Har Dyal."
Suddenly he said:
"She's wonderful, Ray, isn't she? Fancy such a glorious woman buried inthis hole and married to a dry old stick like the Resident! Doesn't itseem a shame?"
The adjutant mumbled an incoherent reply behind his lighted cheroot.
Arrived in their bungalow they undressed in their rooms and in pyjamasand slippers came out into the compound, where on either side of a tableon which was a lighted lamp stood their bedsteads, the mattress of eachcovered with a thin strip of soft China matting. For in the hot weatherin many parts of India this must be used to lie upon instead of a linensheet, which would become saturated with perspiration. Looking carefullyat the ground over which they passed for fear of snakes they reached andlay down on their beds, over each of which a _punkah_ was suspended from
a cross-beam supported by two upright posts sunk in the ground. One ropemoved both _punkahs_, and the motive power was supplied by a cooliewho, salaaming to the sahibs and seating himself on the ground, pickedup the end of the rope and began to pull. Raymond put out the lamp.
Wargrave stared up at the moon for a while. Then he said:
"I say, Ray; didn't Mrs. Norton look lovely to-night? Didn't that dresssuit her awfully well?"
"Oh, go to sleep, old man. We've got to get up in a few hours for thisconfoundedly early parade. Goodnight," growled the adjutant, turning onhis side and closing his eyes.
But he listened for some time to his friend humming "The Love Song ofHar Dyal" again! and not until Frank was silent did he doze off. An hourlater he woke up suddenly, bathed in perspiration and devoured bymosquitoes; for the _punkahs_ were still--the coolie had gone to sleep.He called to the man and aroused him, then before shutting his eyesagain he looked at his companion. The moon shone full on Wargrave'sface. He was sleeping peacefully and smiling. Raymond stared at him fora few minutes. Then he muttered inconsequently:
"Confound the woman!"
And closing his eyes resolutely he fell asleep.
In the days that elapsed before the shoot at Marwa, Wargrave rode everyafternoon to the Residency with the _syce_ carrying his violin case,except when tennis was to be played. In their small community thiscould not escape notice and comment--not that it occurred to him to tryto avoid either. The Resident did not object to the frequency of hisvisits; and Frank saw no harm in his friendship with Mrs. Norton. Butothers did; and the remarks of the two ladies of his regiment on thesubject were venomously spiteful. But their censure was reserved for theone they termed "that shameless woman"; for like everyone else they werepartial to Wargrave and held him less to blame.
His brother officers, although being men they were not so quick to noseout a scandal, could not help noticing his absorption in Mrs. Norton'ssociety. One afternoon his Double Company Commander, Major Hepburn,walked into the compound of Raymond's bungalow and on the verandahshouted the usual Anglo-Indian caller's demand:
"Boy! _Koi hai_?" (Is anyone there?)
A servant hurried out and salaaming answered:
"_Adjitan Sahib hai_." (The adjutant is here).
"Oh, come in, Major," cried Raymond, rising from the table at which hewas seated drinking his tea.
"Don't get up," said Hepburn, entering the room. "Is Wargrave in?"
"No, sir; he went out half an hour ago."
"Confound it, it seems impossible ever to find him in the afternoonnowadays," said the major petulantly. "I wanted him to get up a hockeymatch against No. 3 Double Company to-day. He used to be very keen onplaying with the men; but since he came back from England he never goesnear them. Where is he? Poodlefaking at the Residency, as usual?"
This is the term contemptuously applied in India to the paying of callsand other social duties that imply dancing attendance on the fair sex.
"I didn't see him before he went out, sir," was Raymond's equivocalreply. He loyally evaded a direct answer.
Hepburn shook his head doubtfully.
"I'm sorry about it. I hope the boy doesn't get into mischief. Lookhere, Raymond, you're his pal. Keep your eye on him. He's a good lad;and it would be a pity if he came to grief."
The adjutant did not answer. The major put on his hat.
"Well, I suppose I'll have to see to the hockey myself."
He left the bungalow with a curt nod to Raymond, who watched him passout through the compound gate. Then the adjutant walked over toWargrave's writing-table and stood up again in its place a largephotograph of Mrs. Norton which he had hurriedly laid face downwardswhen he heard Hepburn's voice outside. He looked at it for a minute,then turned away frowning.
When the morning of the shooting party arrived Wargrave and Raymond,having sent their _syces_ on ahead with their guns, rode at dawn to theResidency. In front of the building a group of camels lay on the ground,burbling, blowing bubbles, grumbling incessantly and stretching outtheir long necks to snap viciously at anyone but their drivers thatchanced to come near them. At the hall-door Mrs. Norton stood, dressedin a smart and attractive costume of khaki drill, consisting of awell-cut long frock coat and breeches, with the neatest of cloth gaitersand dainty but serviceable boots. To their surprise her husband was withher and evidently prepared to accompany them. For he wore an old coat,knickerbockers and putties, from a strap over his shoulder hung aspecimen box, and he was armed with all the requisite appliances for thecapture and slaughter of many insects.
Avoiding the camels' vicious teeth the party mounted after exchanginggreetings. Mrs. Norton and Wargrave rode the same animal; and Frank,unused to this form of locomotion, took a tight grip as the long-leggedbeast rose from the ground in unexpected jerks and set off at a joltingwalk that shook its riders painfully. Then it broke into a trot equallydisconcerting but finally settled into an easy canter that was ascomfortable a motion as its previous paces had been spine-dislocating.The route lay at first over a space of desert which was unpleasant, forthe sand was blown in clouds by a high wind, almost a gale. But thecamels were fast movers and it did not take very long before they werepassing through scrub jungle and finally reached the wide stretch ofcultivation near Marwa.
The tank, as lakes are called in India, lay in the centre of a shallowdepression, the rim of which all round was about four hundred yards fromthe water which, now half a mile across, evidently filled the wholebasin in the rainy season. The strong breeze churned its surface intolittle waves and piled up masses of froth and foam against the bendingreeds at one end of the tank, where, about fifty yards from the water'sedge stood a couple of thorny trees, offering almost the only shade tobe found for a long distance around. In the shallows were many yellowegrets, while a _sarus_ crane stalked solemnly along the far bank, andeverywhere bird-life, rare elsewhere in the State, abounded. The landall about was green, a refreshing change from the usual sandy andparched character of most of the country.
But beyond the tank the fields stretched away out of sight. At the edgeof the cultivation the camels were halted and the party dismounted fromthem and separated. Mrs. Norton, who was a fair shot and carried a light12-bore gun, started to walk up the partridges with Raymond, while herhusband went to search the reeds and the borders of the lake for strangeinsects. Wargrave armed with a sporting Mannlicher rifle, set off on along tramp to look for _chinkara_, which are pretty little antelope withcurving horns. The wind, which was freshening, prevented the heat frombeing excessive.
The sport was fairly good. When lunch-time came the adjutant and Mrs.Norton had got quite a respectable bag of partridges and a few hares.The entomologist was in high spirits, for he had secured two rarespecimens; and Wargrave had shot a good buck. So in a contented frame ofmind all gathered under the trees near the end of the tank, where lunchwas laid by a couple of the Residency servants on a white cloth spreadon the ground. As they ate their _tiffin_ (lunch) the members of theparty chatted over the incidents of the morning; and each related thestory of his or her sport.
After the meal Mrs. Norton decided to rest; for the ride and the longwalk with her gun had tired her. The servants spread a rug for her underthe trees and placed a camel saddle for her to recline against. Thencarrying away the empty dishes, plates, glasses and cutlery they retiredout of sight.
"Are you sure you don't mind being left alone, Mrs. Norton?" askedWargrave.
"Not in the least. Do go and shoot again," she replied, smiling up athim. "I'm very comfortable and I'm glad to have a good rest beforeundertaking that tiresome ride back. It's very pleasant here. The windcomes so cool and fresh off the water. Isn't it strong, though?"
The breeze had freshened to a gale and under the trees the temperaturewas quite bearable. The Resident had already gone out of sight over therim of the basin, having exhausted the neighbourhood of the tank andbeing desirous of searching farther afield. Wargrave and Raymond nowfollowed him but soon separated, the latter making for
the cultivationagain, while his friend set off for the open plain. Ordinarily the heatwould have been intense, for the hours after noon up to three o'clock orlater are the hottest of the day in India; but the gale made it quitecool.
To Wargrave, tramping about unsuccessfully this time, came frequentlythe sound of Raymond's gun.
"Ray seems to be having all the luck," he thought, as through hisfield-glasses he scanned the plain without seeing anything. "I'm gettingfed up."
At last in despair he shouldered his rifle and turned back. After a longwalk he came in sight of the adjutant standing near the edge of thefields talking to Norton. When Frank reached them he found that hisfriend had increased his bag very considerably.
"Well done, old boy, you'd better luck than I had," he said. Thenturning to the Resident he continued: "How have you done, sir?"
"Nothing of any value," replied Norton "Have you finished? We'rethinking of going back now."
"Yes, sir; I'm through. By Jove, I'm thirsty. I could do with a drink,couldn't you, Ray?"
"Rather. My throat's like a lime-kiln. We'll join Mrs. Norton and thenhave an iced drink while the camels are being saddled."
They strolled towards the lake, which was hidden from their view by therim of the basin. As they reached the slight ridge that this made allthree stopped dead and gazed in amazement.
"What's happened to the tank?" exclaimed Raymond. "The water's almost upto the trees."
"Good God; My wife! Look! Look!" cried the Resident.
They stood appalled. The wide body of water had swept up to within a fewyards of the trees under which Mrs. Norton lay fast asleep. Andstealthily emerging from it a large crocodile was slowly, cautiously,crawling towards the unconscious woman.