Terrington could detect her secret influence in the sayings of all the men about her, even in Sir Colvin's tentative suggestions; but beyond creating a dull hostility to his plans and policy she could do nothing.
She tried to draw from him at mess some declaration that would irritate the others, but Terrington, though apparently indifferent to their irritations, only laughed at her attempts.
It was when, by a sudden intermission in the supplies on which he had counted for provisioning the Fort, Terrington was obliged to leave Sar in order to put personal persuasion on his agents in the country round, that Rose Chantry saw her chance, and took it.
The decision she could most effect was, she saw instantly, that of the Durbar.
Every one was chafing under the restrictions which Terrington had imposed; every one was anxious to have the crisis over, and the future settled one way or another. Aire's urgent representations had been shelved by a harassed Viceroy in the fatuous hope of something turning up to save expense and excuse his vacillations.
The eastern passes were already under snow, the southern would be white with it in a fortnight longer. If a winter in Sar were to be avoided something must be done at once, and, since no one but Terrington anticipated hostilities, a winter in Sar was the last thing they wished.
Rose Chantry found, in consequence, ground sown ready to her hand: and she fed it with a fertilizer which is always effective—a woman's smile at man's unvalorous hesitations.
In this case, probably, it only precipitated the harvest; but precipitation was essential.
On the third day of Terrington's absence the Durbar was proclaimed.