“Of course I am, my brother looks as if he were dying.”
“He looks badly, I grant you—they all do at first—I mean the Europeans. It isn’t often we have them—not for years. A private was hanged ages ago, for shooting his comrade in the barrack room. I remember as if it was yesterday, the escort marching him up from cells just after daybreak one December morning, and the band playing the Dead March in ‘Saul.’”
I shuddered involuntarily.
“This is only a second class jail,” he resumed. “Serious cases are sent elsewhere. Your brother was moved down here for two reasons; the authorities did not wish to have him so near the regimental lines as Secunderabad jail. Every time a Tommy went by ‘Windsor Castle’ he would think ‘One of our captains is lying in there.’ Another thing, the Bangalore climate is less trying; we have no real hot weather, and of course there are no punkahs in jails. It’s just a year ago since I saw Captain Lingard playing here in the polo tournament. There wasn’t one to touch him! He seemed to have complete command of his ponies, and his strokes were a wonder. I little thought that his next visit to the station would be to me.”
“No; who could have dreamt of such a thing? It all seems like a hideous nightmare.”
“Look here, Miss Lingard, as far as I can I will help your brother, but to show partiality to one man because he is of my own race would upset all discipline, and lose me influence and authority. As it is, I have an unruly crowd to deal with; we’ve had more than one unpleasant outbreak. I believe there is one thing I can do for you—I will overstep my rules for once, and will give your brother a message.”
“Will you? That really is kind.”
“Well, what shall I say?”
“Give him my love, and tell him that I am in Bangalore, and hope to see him on the first visiting day. Tell him that I am living with a respectable old widow, and that he is never, never out of my thoughts. Ask him to try and look at the bright side of things and to think of the future, when we shall be together, and all this trouble will have passed over like a thunderstorm. May I send him books?”
“No, but he can have the use of the prison library, such as it is.”