Captain Falkland rose to attend upon us, but was instantly arrested by Mrs. Wolfe, who figuratively flung herself upon him. She was one of those women who triumphantly capture the attention of men—be they never so wary—and thrust the rest of her sex ruthlessly aside. We left her holding her prey by the sheer force of her volubility, and talking with surpassing gesticulation and animation; but presently with surprising adroitness he managed to escape and joined us.
“So you and Miss Lingard were acquainted in England?” said my chaperon.
“Oh, rather—we are connections. My people and Miss Lingard’s have lived within a few miles of one another for centuries. The Falklands and the Lingards are old and trusted friends.”
“How amusing! I had no idea of this,” said Mrs. Soames; nor had the poor deceived lady any idea that the speaker and I had only spoken to one another on two occasions!
“You must come and dine with us,” she continued hospitably, “just a quiet little family dinner.”
As they were arranging the day and hour, I stood aloof talking to Kip, and was astonished to behold yet another familiar face and form. Could I believe my eyes? There was Mr. Balthasar descending from an imposing grey motor.
He crossed the compound quickly and accosted Ronnie, who had just ridden in from polo; they talked eagerly together as the latter dismounted and his pony was led away. I noticed that Ronnie took Mr. Balthasar familiarly by the arm and spoke to him earnestly for some minutes, whilst from time to time Balthasar nodded his close-shaven bullet head in emphatic agreement. Undoubtedly Balthasar had heard of my arrival, had possibly seen me and informed Ronnie of our former meeting, and Ronnie had pledged him to silence. Now, including Captain Vesey, there were four people who held the secret of my past.
As Mrs. Soames and I moved towards our victoria, escorted by Captain Falkland, Ronnie took a few steps towards us, but his companion stood stock-still, and looked at me as blankly as if he had never seen me before. Then one of his thick black lashes quivered slightly. Yes, it was an unmistakable wink!
As our carriage wheeled about to thread its way among a crowd of other vehicles I beheld Mrs. Wolfe “descend upon the fold.” She seized the helpless A.D.C. and carried him off in triumph to the morghi-khana.
The next afternoon Mrs. Soames and I drove up to the polo ground to witness a match, in which Ronnie greatly distinguished himself. He was captain of the regimental team, rode splendidly, and was remarkably well mounted. I could see that he was an important factor in the local polo world. I noticed Mrs. Lakin in a dreadful old phaeton, drawn by a bony chestnut horse. As she caught sight of us she waved her hand with effusion.