As she made her way home with the precious document in the saddle-pocket, Eveleen realised the need of getting it to Brian as soon as possible. His letter to her had consumed so much time in its wanderings up and down the river that in any case he must run things very fine. If all her trouble was not to be in vain, she must send the letter of credit off by the steamer which left for Bab-us-Sahel that evening, and she groaned, for she was little more of a penman than Brian himself. But it was consoling to feel that he would make no complaint of brevity on her part so long as the enclosure was satisfactory, and the letter was duly despatched, with the assurance that not even for him could she ask Ambrose for more money, but her dear boy might be sure that for his sake she would sell, if necessary, anything but her wedding-ring. The letter once gone, she was quite happy, knowing nothing of the whirlwind of talk her proceedings had let loose in the servants’ quarters. As so often happens, Richard, the other person most concerned, knew nothing of it either, and being much engrossed in the duties of his new position as head of the Agency in Colonel Bayard’s absence, did not even notice the excitement that prevailed.
It was not until some weeks later that Eveleen heard of her pendant again. The hot weather was coming on, and her daylight rides had ceased perforce. Only in the early morning hours was exertion possible, and even then it cost her an effort that astonished her. The year before she had been at Mahabuleshwar, so that this was her first hot weather in the plains, and the blazing sun and relentless heat filled her with a kind of terror, enhanced by the suddenness of the transition from comparative coolness and night frosts. She was lying listlessly on a bamboo couch one day, unable to do anything—for the least exertion made her pant painfully—intent only on getting through the dreadful hours somehow until evening brought some relief, when Richard came in. It was an unusual hour for him to appear, for he stuck to the office as rigorously as his chief had done, and he took her by surprise. For once he beheld her without the innocent make-believe of wellbeing and energy—quite unconscious on her part—which had served hitherto to hide from him how much the heat was trying her, and she saw his face harden suddenly into decision. But he spoke of something quite different, with an assumption of bluff humour which did not suit him at all. Richard Ambrose was not a humorous person. Like the legendary Scotchman, he joked “wi’ deeficculty.”
“I fancy you won’t feel inclined to raise money on your jewellery again in a hurry, my dear!” Her eyes, accustomed to the dim light, could see him distinctly as he groped across the bare shaded room, whereas he was only able to distinguish the tell-tale inertness of the white figure on the couch. As always, his voice and presence acted as a tonic, and Eveleen sat up.
“Y’are greatly pleased with yourself about something, Ambrose! Will you tell me what it is?”
“Oh, you shall hear it, I promise you!” He dropped into a chair, but found it impossible to go on wearing the mask. “What possessed you to go and borrow money from one of these people here?” he demanded wrathfully, “And through that fellow the Daroga, too! Have you no sense of what is suitable in your position?”
A challenge to fight would never find Eveleen wanting. “My position?” she repeated slowly. “My position was that I wanted the money, and had to get it somehow.”
“Since you were ashamed to ask your husband for it. Oh, don’t be afraid; I can guess what it was for. That brother of yours again, of course! If he ain’t ruined, it won’t be his loving sister’s fault.”
“As it happens,” with great dignity, “’twas to save him from ruin, and I’m proud to have done it.”
“Of course! It don’t occur to you, I presume, that what the fellow wants is a regular hard time, under a commander who’ll keep his nose to the grindstone, instead of peacocking on the Staff? With you eternally helping him out of every scrape he may choose to get into, he hasn’t a chance. Well, don’t say I haven’t warned you!”
“But sure that’s the very thing I’m doing—helping him go where he’ll be well looked after. Helping him with the money, I mean,” she added in a panic, fearing she had betrayed herself. But Richard, to do him justice, was not suspicious.