Her own people

by B. M. Croker

CHAPTER XXX

That same Sunday afternoon Mrs. Chandos, having recovered from her "seizure" went out into the front garden in order to "eat the air" in solitude. The Trotters were also abroad, but she turned her back upon them, and walked down the little drive and gazed along the road with an expression of grim resentment. But what was this which she beheld speeding towards her? A grey stepping horse, a dog-cart, and two gentlemen—and at what a pace they came! Indeed, they were all but past before the driver discovered her, and pulled the grey on his haunches.

"Oh, good day, Mrs. Chandos," said Captain Haig; "I am so awfully sorry I was not able to come to tiffin. I was—prevented," here Jimmy gave him an approving nudge, "from accepting your kind invitation."

"Aye, and so you have come to tea instead. All right, come in—come in——"

"I am afraid we cannot wait, thank you."

"Oh, my! but why not? The girls are at home," and she put her hand on the wheel of the cart as if she would detain them by physical force.

Captain Haig merely shook his head.

"And poor Verona will be so disappointed," urged the persistent matron.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Chandos," interposed Jimmy, leaning across, "but I must really take him away. We have an important engagement."

"Ah, but here is Dominga!" cried her mother in a tone of triumph, as Dom, in a French muslin costume, came flitting to the gate.

"You know my daughter, Dominga, Captain Haig?"

Dominga immediately took her mother's place, and began to converse with Jimmy, whilst Mrs. Chandos stood aside and contemplated the scene with a bursting heart. She had hoped for a mere captain, but here was "the Honourable" talking away to Dom as if he had known her all his life! And the Trotters were staring over the wall, like so many stuck pigs.

In another moment the grey horse had sprung forward, and the ecstatic vision was swept from her contemplation. Still there yet remained the Trotters! She turned herself about, looked at them with rude significance, and nodded with imperial condescension. Who would suppose, from her manner, that her neighbour was a close, intimate friend of many years' standing, and had once nursed her like a sister, when she and Nani were both down with jaundice?

No, no; she had forgotten all that. Those common Trotter people must be taught their place, and with this determination Mrs. Chandos proceeded indoors.

On Sunday evening the chaplain from Rajahpore held service in the little conventicle at Manora; his congregation consisted of the sugar people and a few native Christians. On this particular day Pussy and Nicky were the sole representatives of the Chandos household. As Mrs. Lepell and her nephew were walking homewards they overtook the pair.

"Pray what has become of Verona this evening?" inquired the lady.

"She has such a bad headache!"

"That is unusual. What has given it to her?"

"Crying, I think," replied the ever indiscreet Pussy. "She cried a lot this afternoon."

"I hope she has not had bad news?"

"Oh, no—ah! but mother asked a friend of hers to lunch—that Captain Haig—and he never came," announced Pussy, regardless of her brother's angry nip. "And mother was so vexed."

"Poor Verona!" said Mrs. Lepell to herself, as they came to the gate of the Chandos abode.

"Look here, Pussy, will you run in and ask your mother if you and Verona may come over to dinner? It will cheer up your sister. Don't be long, like a good girl."

As they waited, she turned to her nephew and said: "Poor girl, I suppose he could not face them! Brian, what makes you look so solemn?"

"My sins and the sermon," he answered with a short laugh. "By the way, Aunt Liz, I'm on the track of those jewels; I believe I've got a clue, but mum's the word."

At this moment they were joined by Pussy, who panted out, "Thanks awfully, Mrs. Lepell; we may both come."

At dinner that evening Verona was unusually white and silent. "So," said Salwey to himself, "she has been crying for that fellow. Little she knows how Pussy let her namesake out of the bag."

The chief part of the conversation was sustained by Mr. Lepell and Pussy, who, though a little daunted by the entrées and coloured wine glasses, was much elated to find herself dining in the big house. Her host noted how she was improved; she had ceased to giggle at the end of every sentence, and was really quite a pretty girl, with her liquid dark eyes, beautiful teeth and radiant smile.

Mr. Lepell was astonished when he realized that this sparkling, happy-looking guest was only little Pussy Chandos! They were discussing dreams, and during a lull in the talk her thin staccato tones were heard saying: "Oh, I do dream such strange dreams! They seem so real! Two or three times I dream of Dominga—always the same; she walks through my room in her hat with a wrap on her arm—just as if she was there. Last week I dreamt of her, and I called out, and she put her finger on her lips and was gone. Now, what can it mean, do you think?"

One of the khidmutgars in waiting caught the eye of his mate. They knew, but this by-play was lost on the company—with one exception.

"Did you tell your sister of these visions?" inquired Salwey.

"Oh, yes; and she said it was only nightmare. I think I had been having too much curried fish—I'm awfully fond of curry; when I see curry I must eat it."

"Now, Brian," said his aunt, "you have scarcely opened your lips—do amuse us! What are you looking so glum about? If you are thinking of the usurers, I will allow you to take a short canter on your hobby."

"It's nothing to joke about, Aunt Liz," rejoined Salwey, suddenly rousing himself. "You know old Hirzat Sing—they have sold him up at last!"

"Oh, no! Poor old fellow—he has been in difficulties for years!"

"Yes," assented her husband; "he borrowed money for his son's wedding, and it was his ruin. His son is dead, and he has been getting deeper and deeper into debt every year. A slave to the soil and the money-lender—working from dawn to dark to keep himself and his wife alive—and feed the daughter of the horse-leech."

"One would suppose he could throw off the yoke, and the strangling hundred per cent., and go elsewhere," said Mrs. Lepell.

"He is too old," replied Salwey, "and he would say, 'Kahn jaga?'—whither shall I go? He clings to his ancestral acres with the extraordinary love of home, which is a passion in a Hindoo. There is a saying, 'The rent is heavy, the debts are many, but still he loves his field.' Now that Hirzat Sing is getting infirm and stiff, and his wife is blind, he is of no further use to the soucar, who has thrust him from his home, after making hundreds, aye, thousands of rupees out of him. The original debt was but two hundred and fifty; now he will end his days as a bazaar mendicant, after slaving for sixty years."

"This is very bad, Brian; can you do nothing?"

"I'm afraid not, Aunt Liz; poor old Hirzat Sing is in the grip of Saloo—a notable money-lender known only to us by name; I believe he lives in Poona, but his meshes are all over the district, and he does his business secretly; he is the most fierce and rapacious of the whole lot. Once or twice I've thought I had him. I believe from what I hear that the wretch has no less than five hundred victims on his books—in his web, I should say."

"Poor old Hirzat Sing!" said Mrs. Lepell. "I shall look him up to-morrow. We could get him some job about the place, eh, Tom?"

"Yes, my dear; but already we are fairly well supplied with your protégés."

"Don't be horrid, Tom. I have, and so have you, the greatest respect for Hirzat Sing. He is one of Nature's noblemen."

"And I have to find him some job—such as weeding or sweeping—at five rupees a month. Well, I'll do what I can."

"By the way, Miss Verona," turning to his silent, sad-faced guest, "I saw in The Times the death of a Chandos of Charne Hall. I believe he's related to your father? I am not sure—but I think he is his cousin."

"Oh my, yes; it must be father's cousin," burst in Pussy. "He never speaks of him, but mother does; she says he was such—a—thief and a budmash—he—ought to have been put in jail!"

"Pussy!" remonstrated her sister.

"If it is Sidney, it will make a great difference to your father," continued Mr. Lepell, addressing Verona.

"I don't believe anything would make any difference to him," then she dropped her voice as she added the word "now."

"Dear me! How dull we have all been!" exclaimed Mrs. Lepell. "I really think we shall have to introduce the Chinese system of having little slips of paper inscribed with jokes, which they solemnly hand to each other during intervals in the conversation."

"I wish I could remember a few," said Salwey; "but they run in at one ear and out at the other! I wonder if this would do? A certain schoolboy was asked, 'Who was Titus?' 'Titus,' he promptly replied, 'was a gentleman who wrote a letter in the Bible. Then, as a Roman general, he sacked Jerusalem. Subsequently, having adopted the name of Oates, he headed an abominable insurrection.' How is that, Aunt Liz?"

"Much too historical and stupid," she said as she rose. "I suppose you wished to drive us off, and therefore we depart. Good-bye!"

The three ladies were followed into the verandah by coffee and the men, and Salwey, drawing up a low chair beside Verona, said:

"Did you ever see this pretty thing before?" As he spoke he dropped a ring into her lap.

She picked it up and exclaimed, "I should think so—my long-lost property! Where did you find it?"

"Can you swear to it?"

"I can do more, if necessary. I was in the shop when auntie bought it—a black pearl, set in brilliants. I wanted all emeralds, but she insisted. Look here," and she unpinned a plain, gold safety brooch, "do you see this?"

In another moment her nimble fingers had unscrewed the cluster in the ring, and screwed it into the brooch.

"There!" handing it back, and slipping the ring on her finger. "It makes three separate articles—a ring, a brooch, and a bangle. Are you convinced?"

"I am. May I have the brooch and ring? And I must ask you to swear to your property before Uncle Tom, who is a magistrate."

"Very well, though I feel slightly alarmed; it sounds so formal—and as if I had been breaking the law."

"Do you know that you have done an immense service, for you have not only given me a clue to the recovery of your jewels. This," holding up the safety-pin, "will get a notorious evil-doer two years' hard labour, with a shorn head, and chains, in Rajahpore jail. Now, I wish you could put me on the track of Saloo, the money-lender!"