"Yes, I have," he admitted, "and you are not far wrong when you talk about the force of contrast. You know what I thought of the Rajah. There are any amount of good-looking native princes with nice surface manners—that sort of thing wouldn't impress me. But this man has more than good looks and manners. He is a born leader. You should have seen him this afternoon. There wasn't a thing he overlooked or forgot. Every detail was at his fingers' ends, and he has a fire, an energy, an idealistic belief in himself and in the whole world which fairly sweeps you off your feet. It did me. I believe it did the Colonel, and I know it did the natives. The dust wasn't low enough for them. And it wasn't face worship, either. It came straight from the heart; I could see that they were ready to die for him on the spot, at his mere word."
"What a power!" Beatrice murmured. She had stopped turning over the patterns and was leaning back in her chair, her eyes fixed thoughtfully in front of her.
"Yes, it is a power," he echoed emphatically, "and I wish to goodness we had more men like him on our side. We English take things too lightly—most of us. And in India it is not safe to take things lightly."
He saw that she was about to make some observation, but at that moment Mrs. Cary entered. She had evidently been out in the garden, for she had a bunch of freshly cut flowers in her hand and a girlish muslin hat shaded the fat cheeks flushed with the unusual exertion.
"Ah, there you are, Captain Stafford!" she said, extending her disengaged hand. "Mr. Travers said he was sure you had dropped in, and wouldn't believe it when I told him that I had heard and seen nothing of you. There, come in, Mr. Travers. It's all right."
She smiled at Stafford with a playful significance that seemed to indicate an unspoken comprehension of the situation, but Stafford did not smile back. Like a great many worthy and honest people, he was not gifted with a sense of humor, and the ridiculous, especially if it took a human form, was his abomination. Consequently he disliked Mrs. Cary, though not for the reason which made her unpopular in other quarters.
Travers followed almost immediately on her invitation, like Stafford, bearing the marks of a hard day's work on his unusually pale face.
"I expect Stafford has told you what a time we've been having," he said, in response to Beatrice's greeting. "It's no joke to have aroused an energy like the Rajah's, and I can see myself worked to a shadow. Please forgive my get-up, Miss Cary, but this isn't an official call. I only wanted to fetch Stafford."
"I'm afraid you can't," Mrs. Cary put in. "We have engaged the poor exhausted man to tea, and you are strictly forbidden to worry him with your tiresome business. You can stop, too, if you promise not to bother."
Travers, who had as a rule an equally amiable smile for every one, remained unexpectedly serious.