"Eh—what?" demanded an explosive voice behind the group. "And who may you be, young sir, who think your opinion so well worth hearing?"
Gerrard turned to confront a short choleric man in uniform, whom he had no difficulty in recognising to be the Brigadier. "My name is Gerrard, sir, and I am attached to the Habshiabad force."
"Oho!" General Speathley drew out with some difficulty an eyeglass, and fixing it in his eye, looked up at Gerrard as though he had been too small to see without it. "So this is another of the sucking Caesars who command armies in Granthistan! And what, pray, may be the nature of your very valuable suggestion, sir?"
"I have acted as Resident at Agpur, sir, and know something about the people, and I was about to say that they would be far more impressed with the retribution if we buried our glorious dead in the very midst of the city from which they were driven rather than in an old tomb outside it."
The astonishment on the General's face was reflected on those around him. Clearly it was not often that Brigadier Speathley heard an opinion different from his own. "Proceed, sir, proceed!" he snapped ferociously. "I'll be bound we haven't been favoured with the full extent of your views yet."
The tone was intolerable, and Gerrard grew white with suppressed wrath. "I have no more to say, sir, if the petty and unchristian course of turning a dead man out of his grave has already been decided upon."
"I thought so!" cried the General in triumph. "Antony's cursed sentimental notions, of course—might have known it. You are one of those who prefer the blackfellows to your own people, sir, who think the lives of the Company's servants are nothing compared with the fear of displeasing the natives."
"At least, sir, I placed myself at Mr Charteris's disposal to rescue or avenge Captain Cowper and Mr Nisbet, or your army might not have been here to-day. And you will permit me to add that I still consider my plan likely to be more impressive, if less disgusting, to the natives than yours."
"And you'll permit me to say, sir," roared the General, whose eyes were protruding from his head, "that my plan will be carried out if every pestilent political in Granthistan is opposed to it. It's high time you came back to duty, sir. You seconded subalterns think no small beer of yourselves, I know, but you'll learn better here, I can tell you, and you'll find—— Eh, what's that?"
An unobtrusive aide-de-camp was presenting a paper at his elbow, and as he read it his face changed, but by no means cleared. "Hum—ha!" he muttered, "it seems you have some fancy status here—political trick, I suppose—some quibble about Habshiabad lying outside Granthistan. But it's all one. If you ain't under my command, you don't get mentioned in my despatches—see? Eh, how does that suit you, sir?"