“Yes?”
“So that load was off my back; and then I hedged in case Collarette failed me, and wrote by the same mail to Uncle Horace, begging him to lend me five hundred pounds. I told him that it was a case of the most terrible necessity, and implored him not to fail me. I expect his answer in ten days—but by then it’ll be too late. Collarette, as you know, ran a cur; she shut up in the last fifty yards. Then followed the bomb about our reliefs being cancelled. Last, and worst of all, Mills came to me on Saturday and said: ‘That canteen money is going to be invested after all; I’ve been telling the colonel we may as well get some interest this next six months, it is to be made over to Loughton and Law on deposit receipt. I suppose they’ll give four per cent., so will you let me have it, Ronnie, and I’ll fix it up? A bit over seven thousand rupees, isn’t it?’
“I declare to you, Sis, that I felt as if the sky had fallen in. That was Saturday, and here is Monday. If I cannot put the money back in the safe—or rather produce it and pretend I’ve taken it out—by Wednesday morning, I’m done for. I shall be convicted of making away with the regimental funds, be tried by court martial and cashiered. My alternative was better than that!”
“Oh, Ronnie, Ronnie, don’t say it!” I protested in agony.
“Just fancy my being proved to be a regular ‘budmash’ and thief—if I were out of it all things would be hushed up. I’d just have been bundled into a hole in the cemetery—and nothing said. I know the colonel would move heaven and earth to smother the scandal. He thinks so much of the reputation of the regiment, and if one of his officers were to be tried by court martial, and the case came out in all the papers, it would turn his hair white.”
“And so you have only until the day after to-morrow,” I faltered at last. “Something must be done—can’t I cable and get out money?”
“No,” he replied, “there would be no end of formalities; anyway it would be too late. My one chance is Balthasar. I sounded him about a loan, but I must confess that he was not responsive—even though I talked of big interest. He is my only hope. I clutch at him as my very last straw. He said he might turn up here to-morrow afternoon, and I believe if you were really most awfully nice to him he would come to the rescue—it’s just my one chance.”
I clenched my hands tightly on the top bar of the gate; the prospect was too hideous. That I should have to put forth my utmost efforts to cajole and mollify my most detested acquaintance was, indeed, an overwhelming enterprise—and yet, looking over the whole situation, it seemed to me that in Balthasar’s assistance lay our only road of escape.
“I will do my best,” I murmured at last.
“Oh, if you will do that, you will certainly pull me through. I know you dislike him and I hate asking you to influence him, but you see my position is desperate. Perhaps you might bring a little light into the darkness; and there,” he said, pointing, “the light is coming. I see the pale dawn beginning to creep along the horizon—I shall accept it as a good omen. And now, my dear sister, I will turn in and get some sleep. I have not closed my eyes for three whole nights. I shall want to have all my wits about me when Balthasar appears, though it is you who will deal with him.” So saying he kissed my bare arm and strode off towards the bungalow.