The Advanced-Guard

by Sydney C. Grier

Ferrers’ sleep was disturbed that night. He had often puzzled over the difficulty of breaking off his intercourse with the Mirza, but now that the Gordian knot had been cut for him he did not feel happy. It was clear that, for some reason or other, he could not imagine why, the evidence against Major Keeling was destined to break down, and this made it seem probable that he had been duped all along. And yet, as he had said to Penelope, how could he disbelieve the witness of his own eyes? He tossed and tumbled upon his bed, turning things over in his mind involuntarily and as if of necessity, as often happens in the wakeful hours of night. When at length he fell asleep, he woke again in horror, with a cold sweat breaking out all over him. What a detestable dream that had been! and yet it seemed to have no sense in it. There was a snake, and in some way or other the snake was also the Mirza, and Penelope was standing between him and it, trying to defend him. He himself seemed unable to move, and only wondered stupidly how it was that the snake did not attack Penelope. Then she stood aside for a moment, and he felt that the snake was beckoning to him—but how could it, when it was a snake?—and he slipped past Penelope, only to find that the snake was coiling itself round him. It was cold and clammy and stifling; its head was close to his face; it was just about to strike its murderous fangs into his temple, when not Penelope but Colin seized it by the neck and dragged it away, calling out, “George! George! get up!” With a vague idea that the snake had bitten Colin he sat up, to find that it was morning, and Colin was standing in the doorway of his room, and shouting to him to wake. For a moment he stared at him with eyes of horror, then looked round for the snake, and, realising that it was all a dream, smiled feebly.

“You must have been having frightful nightmare,” said Colin. “You were lying on your back and groaning shockingly, and the mosquito-net has fallen down, and you’ve got it all twisted round you. Your boy must have fastened it very carelessly.”

“Oh, I’ll blow him up about it. Enough to give one bad dreams, isn’t it? with this horrible row going on as well. Of course it’s the eclipse to-day.”

An eclipse had been predicted, to begin in the course of the morning, and all the Hindus in the town were doing their heroic best to rescue the sun from the clutches of the black monster which was intending to devour it. Tom-toms, gongs, and fireworks were among the remedies tried, apparently with the idea of frightening away the monster before he came near enough to do the sun any harm, and every native appeared also to think it his duty to howl, groan, or shriek with all his might. Ferrers and Colin took their choti haziri to the accompaniment of deafening uproar, and when one of the Haighs’ servants appeared to say that Mr Crayne desired his nephew’s presence at once at the fort, they could scarcely hear his message.

Ferrers was in no uncertainty as to the reason for this summons, for Colin had mentioned having seen Major Keeling riding by in the direction of the fort, doubtless to apologise to the Commissioner for his absence the evening before. The moment had come, and he mounted his horse and rode soberly through the town, feeling confident of the strength of his evidence, and yet nervous as to the result of the trial. On the verandah before the Haighs’ quarters Lady Haigh and Penelope were wandering restlessly with anxious faces, exchanging frightened whispers now and then, and starting whenever the sound of raised voices reached them from the drawing-room.

“What can it be?” asked Lady Haigh breathlessly, forgetting her dislike of Ferrers. “It must be something dreadful. They have been quarrelling frightfully.”

Ferrers made some excuse, he did not know what, and hurried indoors. In the drawing-room Mr Crayne was seated magisterially in the largest chair, Major Keeling was striding up and down with spurs and sword clanking, and Sir Dugald was leaning against the window-frame, looking unutterably worried and disgusted.

“So this,” said Major Keeling, pausing in his walk as Ferrers entered, and speaking in a voice hoarse with passion,—“this is the spy you employ to bring false accusations against me?”

“My nephew is no spy, sir, and it is for you to prove that the accusations are false,” said Mr Crayne, quailing a little under the fire of the other’s eyes.

“Oh, pardon me. When I find one of my own officers set to watch and report upon my movements—— Why, he doesn’t even do that. He invents movements for me, and founds lies upon them. Spy is not the word——”