The Advanced-Guard

by Sydney C. Grier

He did not wake till late, when he found the whole place in excitement over the arrival of the mail. There were letters for him, but he disregarded them all in favour of a telegram which had been forwarded by boat and messenger from the point where the wires ended. It was dated from Government House, Bab-us-Sahel, and came from his uncle, announcing curtly that Mr Crayne was cutting short his Christmas festivities on account of some complication which had arisen over the affairs of a deposed native prince up the river. He considered that his presence on the spot would enable the difficulty to be more easily settled, and he was coming up the river by steamer as far as the station which was the window by which the Alibad colony looked into the larger world. He would be glad to see his nephew during his stay there, and he was requesting Major Keeling to grant him a week’s leave, which would be ample for the purpose.

Ferrers’ feelings when he read the missive were mixed. Much depended on this interview, and the impression he might make on his uncle. But should he go to meet him as an engaged man or not? It was impossible to tell what Mr Crayne’s mood at the moment would be, but the probability was that he would find grounds for a grievance in either alternative. On the whole, thought Ferrers, it would be better to suppress all mention of Penelope until he had fathomed his uncle’s intentions towards him. If he had no benevolent design in view, his prejudices need not be considered; but if he had anything good in store, it might be necessary to proceed with caution, and not reveal the truth until Mr Crayne had seen Penelope and honoured her with his approval. Ignoring his own former changes of feeling, Ferrers was now sufficiently in love to feel certain that his uncle must approve of her.

With this in his mind he left the emerald ring in Colin’s charge, and prepared for his journey, receiving a curt notice from Major Keeling that the leave requested by his uncle was granted, riding out to Shah Nawaz to inform the man who was taking his place that another week’s exile was in store for him, and bidding farewell to Penelope and Lady Haigh. Penelope was too much relieved to see him go to take any offence at the postponement of the engagement, and Lady Haigh hailed his departure in private as offering an opening for the “something that might happen,” much longed for by herself, to prevent matters going any further. Ferrers saw through her at a glance, and rode away laughing. He had an idea that he might be able to induce his uncle to pay a flying visit to Alibad and make Penelope’s acquaintance, and then he remembered suddenly that he had in his possession information that would bring Mr Crayne to Alibad if nothing else would. He had given up the idea of extending mercy to Major Keeling by this time. He wanted to see him disgraced, driven from the army and from the society of Europeans, and forced to herd with the natives whose company it was clear that he preferred. He had not a doubt that his uncle’s feelings would accord with his, and he devoted a good deal of time while on his journey to going over the different points of his evidence, and deciding on the form in which he would present it.

It was not until his second evening at Mr Crayne’s camp on the river that he found his opportunity. The secretary and other officials who were dragged in the Commissioner’s train, gathering that he would like a talk with his nephew, had gladly effaced themselves on various pretexts, and Ferrers and his uncle were left alone together. For some time, while they smoked, Ferrers endured a bombardment of short snappy questions, delivered in tones expressive of the deepest contempt, as to his past career and his financial position, and heard his answers received with undisguised sniffs. Then his chance came.

“What d’ye think of that man of yours—Keeling?” demanded Mr Crayne.

“He is—a fine soldier,” responded Ferrers guardedly.

“What d’ye hum and haw like that for, sir?” Mr Crayne added a strong expression. “I won’t be put off by puppies like you.”

“I have no wish to put you off, sir,” said Ferrers with dignity; “but you will understand it is difficult to give a candid opinion of one’s commanding officer.”

“I’ll give you a candid opinion of him, if you like!” cried Mr Crayne. “He’s the most arrogant, hot-headed, interfering, cantankerous fool that ever wrote insubordinate letters to his superiors!”

“Oh, is that all?” The nephew’s face wore a pitying smile.