He was in his office one day, discussing weightily with Richard Ambrose the various matters of importance which might arise during his absence, when sounds of dispute outside interrupted their deliberations. Some one was demanding to be allowed to enter, and was being respectfully but firmly repulsed by the scandalised attendants—and the voice left no doubt who the intruder was.
“Mrs Ambrose, as I live!” exclaimed Mrs Ambrose’s husband in unflattering disgust. “What bee has she got in her bonnet now? Excuse me one moment.”
“Mrs Ambrose appears to wish to see me,” said Colonel Bayard, with his unfailing kindness. “We can’t let an English lady be turned away by the chobdars. Come! Good morning, ma’am; is there something you want me to do for you? Good heavens! what has happened? Has any one dared——?” for Eveleen’s face was flushed and tearful, and her lips trembled too much to speak. She wrung her hands together wildly.
“Murder—a woman!” it was a kind of hoarse scream.
“You have been attacked? No?” as his eye ran quickly over her speckless habit. “What is it, then? Sit down and tell us about it.” He led her to a chair, and waved the attendants away. “You have had a shock? A glass of wine!” he signed to a waiting servant. “Now let us hear what it is.”
“Compose yourself, for Heaven’s sake!” growled Richard Ambrose—not encouragingly, but the harsh tone proved more effectual than the Resident’s kindness in enabling Eveleen to pull herself together. With her fingers tightly pressed against one another she sat upright and spoke jerkily.
“’Twas a poor woman—just a bit of a girl. Her father and her husband had quarrelled. The horrid wretch—the husband, I mean—went straight home—and called her out. The creature came—and stood before him trembling. He took hold of her hair—her beautiful long hair—and twisted it—into a rope—and strangled her with it—her own hair——” Her voice rose into a scream again.
“Yes, yes—very distressing,” Colonel Bayard patted her hand kindly. “These things will happen here, we know, but you are new to them. And you were passing, and saw it done?”
“Saw it?” she cried furiously. “D’ye think I would not have broke my whip over the brute’s head, and poked his eyes out with the bits after? No, I was passing, and heard the old women keening—her mother and her mother-in-law—and I went in there and saw—her poor face—and her hair—— And I made the syce ask them about it, and they told me, and I came straight back to you at once, that you might get the wretch found out and punished!”
“But, my dear lady, where do you think he is?”