“The canteen fund was rich, and the colonel was holding over a big surplus towards setting up in our next station.”
“How could——” I began.
“Just let me go on—you’ll soon understand,” interrupted Ronnie. “The polo money was taken over by Mills, our treasurer; he lodged it, in spite of the colonel, in a bank. It’s in a way a private fund, and the C.O. could not stop him. Mills is dead keen about coin, being poor and thrifty; he said even for six weeks four per cent. was worth having.”
I leant heavily against the gate. How much longer would these details torture me?
“Mills and the colonel had a regular set-to over the business; I heard them arguing in the anteroom. The colonel is shy of local banks and temporary investments—he was once badly hit up north—so he insisted on keeping the canteen funds locked up in the safe in the orderly room—and I stole them.”
“You—stole—them!” I repeated in a whisper.
“Yes, but only under the most frightful pressure. You see I knew all about this money. I have been acting adjutant whilst Gloag got a month’s leave to see his people in the Neilgherries. I counted over the canteen notes, reported all correct, stuffed them into a drawer in the safe, and never gave them another thought till last week. Then the mail brought me a letter from my London bookie, saying that I must pay up my losses—about £400—or be posted and run in. He gave me a fortnight’s grace. I hadn’t a penny in the bank—in fact I’m overdrawn. On the other hand, I had a splendid book on the Calcutta races and was confident I’d get home on Collarette. Meanwhile, I was at my wits’ end to find the ready money for Hawkins. I knew if I was posted that it meant ruin; then some little black devil whispered: ‘What about that canteen money? It won’t be wanted for a couple of months; you can settle up with Hawkins, and the Calcutta winnings will refund the loan. It would only be an extra big risk and gamble.’ To make a long story short, I took the coin; I told myself it was only a loan, and everything combined to make the job dead easy.”
Here Ronnie paused; his voice sounded husky, as if his throat were dry. For my part, I could not have spoken if my life had depended on it.
“For two or three days I struggled,” he went on. “I am not a hardened scoundrel. I fought off the temptation, but I was pinned fast between the devil and the deep sea. If I did not pay my debts of honour, I would be smashed; and if the canteen money was suddenly missed and had not been replaced, I was also smashed. At last I gave in. Late one sultry afternoon, I happened to be alone in the orderly room copying the summary of evidence for a court martial; the head clerk had finished and I had given him leave to depart. All the time my pen was scratching along the paper it seemed to say, ‘Take it! take it! Here is your chance.’ You know the orderly room is in the old barracks, where, by all accounts, queer things have happened. There was something in the warm atmosphere that relaxed my will. Although I saw nothing, I felt acutely sensible of a dominating other-world presence between me and the window. Eva, I’ll swear that some sort of evil spirit was urging me to take my chance and just one more risk!
“For a good while I hesitated. At last I got up and closed the door into the clerks’ room, and when I took the keys and opened the safe, I declare my heart was thumping like a motor engine. The money was in a small drawer; ten days before I had counted over the notes and reported ‘all correct,’ and I knew that a sum of seven thousand rupees was intact. I drew out the dingy bundle, greasy and discoloured—but good paper for all that—thrust it into my pocket, and locked the safe. Once the deed was actually accomplished, I felt relieved and even cheerful. Next morning I gave the notes to Bunsi Lal’s agent, in exchange for a cheque on London.”