“Yes, General; I have heard of the trick.” Richard spoke with notable lack of enthusiasm. How was he to fulfil his pledge to Colonel Bayard to do his best for the Khans if the fools were up to these dodges already? Sir Harry caught him up eagerly.
“Well, you shall see after dinner. I am practically convinced, but I won’t act unless I’m positively certain. The Governor-General is very strong on that, too, and I’m glad of it, for I was afraid he was unjust about poor Bayard, and whatever happens to these chaps ought to be absolutely clear and above-board.”
Talking, as he did, continuously and at railroad speed, it might have seemed difficult for the General to satisfy his hunger, but he ate as fast as he talked, with a kind of mechanical action. Presumably some one had instructed him in the deadly nature of bazar pork, for that delicacy did not appear on the menu. Though the table service came obviously from one or more canteens, the dinner had evidently been carefully chosen, and a lady’s probable tastes consulted in the selection of sweet dishes; but it was naturally not improved by being put forward—the only wonder was that it was not worse. Bad or good, however, there was little time to savour it, for Sir Harry set the pace, and allowed no pauses. It did not strike Eveleen at first that he was mischievously determined to get the meal over before the absent Stewart could return, but she realised it when, just as the dessert was put on the table, a worried face appeared for an instant in the doorway, with two laden coolies dimly visible behind. The one word “Jungly!” floated bitterly to the ears of the diners, and the General exploded in such a paroxysm of mirth as might have betrayed into unfair suspicions those who had not seen that he drank nothing but water.
“And now he’s cursing me in blackfellows’ talk!” were the first coherent words to obtain utterance. “Why don’t he use the Queen’s English like a gentleman? Captain Stewart, come and apologise to Mrs Ambrose for being absent all dinner-time. Make no mistake; I am very seriously displeased with you.”
But the unhappy Stewart had betaken himself out of hearing, probably to dismiss his useless coolies, and the General chuckled himself silent again. When Eveleen rose, he sent Brian to join her on the verandah, and carried off Richard to his office, there to set to work with compasses and spaced rulers to investigate various impressions and drawings of seals, each with its more or less legible inscription in beautiful but intricate Persian characters. Richard’s expression made Brian exclaim discontentedly as soon as he had his sister to himself—
“I hope to goodness Ambrose ain’t going about for ever with that glum phiz! What’s the matter with the fellow?”
“Sure he’ll be sorry to lose his friend Bayard, and afraid things are going to be different,” said Eveleen wisely.
“But why wouldn’t they be different? Can’t go on always in the same old rut. It ain’t as if his place was going begging. The General has a step-grandson or something that he would have liked greatly to put into it.”
“D’ye tell me that, now? But of course I knew he only appointed Ambrose because he felt he would be unfairly treated otherwise, and to please Bayard.”
“Well, then, if Ambrose knows ’twas not for his sweet face nor his charming manners he got it, will you tell me why he wouldn’t try to make himself agreeable at all? Sure it reflects on me—the way he looks and talks.”