“How could you have the heart to say no to a fellow with such lovely eyes? I’m sure I never could—and he was just counting the weary time till you come back, looking at his watch every two minutes. Well, I’m thinking you have a hard heart. Your brother has had his turn—has the other no claim?”
The next morning Brian had a long interview with Ronnie—our good friend Mr. Hodson being present—and when in the early afternoon we went for a motor drive Brian told me the gist of their conference.
“Ronnie is anxious for you to return to England with me. On this point he and I are absolutely agreed,” announced my companion. “I have assured him that I shall pull every string I can reach to get his sentence reduced. I may be mistaken, but I have an impression that three months’ hard labour for a gentleman means as much as six to a working coolie, and I am sure the indignity bites in ten times more deeply. As soon as Ronnie is released we will give him a real good start in the colonies. Meanwhile the Hodsons will keep a kindly eye on him, and he will feel that you and I are working like niggers on his behalf.”
This conversation took place as we sped into the open country, and Brian said:
“I am doing all the talking. What has happened to my prize chatterbox?”
“Neither a prize nor a chatterbox now,” I replied.
“Well, I hope you will return to your old form. Already you look a shade better, and you have laughed once. Have you read my mother’s letter?”
“I have indeed. It is too, too kind—I shall treasure it always.”
“She is a dear old Mum, I must say! Well now, shall we turn round and go to the Lal Bagh?”
“Yes, if you like, but why the Lal Bagh?”