“I don’t see that makes it any better—horrid though it be. What is Colonel Bayard here for if it ain’t to stop things of this sort from happening?”
“’Pon my word, ma’am——!” began Captain Crosse, quite taken aback, but Lieutenant Haigh spoke slowly.
“You are making a mistake, ma’am. The Resident is here to seek to persuade the Khans to keep their treaties with us, so that we may be able to leave them in the enjoyment of their authority.”
“Authority to murder women and carry off girls? And he calls himself an Englishman and a Christian!”
This was high treason, but though Captain Crosse showed signs of flight, Sir Dugald argued patiently on. “You must know yourself, Mrs Ambrose, that there’s no better-hearted person in the world than the Resident. But he has enough to do with his proper business, and the Khans have no mind to make it easy for him. They choose to go on destroying villages to extend their shikargahs, and plundering traders, and intercepting the river traffic by demanding tolls, and they do it, never caring a pin about the difficulties they are making for him.”
“Then he ought just wash his hands of them!” declared Eveleen defiantly. “If I were in his place——”
“My dear Mrs Ambrose, what is the matter?” Colonel Bayard and Richard came up the verandah steps, to find her confronting the two men. She looked at him stormily.
“It’s a fool I am to expect anything——!” she began, and stopped, unable to speak.
“Mrs Ambrose was unfortunately a witness—or nearly so—of the carrying-off of a girl to the Fort, sir,” said Sir Dugald; “and the lamentations of the parents have affected her sadly.”
“Positively, my dear Richard,” said Colonel Bayard, “you must not allow Mrs Ambrose to distress herself in this way. She will make herself ill, and our little society here will lack its brightest ornament.”