"Please take me back to my mother," said Honour, in some confusion, as a party of elderly officers invaded the room, eager to enjoy their hookahs, the bearers of which were waiting outside.
"You might bring Miss Cinnamond's fan, Hal," said Charteris, dexterously offering his arm first, and thus they returned to Lady Cinnamond, who had been a prey to grievous anxiety, disguised with an iron will lest public attention should be attracted to Honour's absence.
"Oh, Hal, my hated r-r-rival!" breathed Charteris, slapping his friend on the back when they got out into the open air. "Ain't it as good as a play? But what a monster of iniquity a man feels beside a girl like that!" he added sentimentally. "Do you wonder that I fell in love with her?"
"No, I don't," said Gerrard savagely. "But I wish with all my heart you hadn't!"
"The same to you, my boy!" laughed Charteris.
CHAPTER III.
THE OLD ORDER AND THE NEW.
In little more than a week after the ball, Charteris and Gerrard had shaken from their feet the dust of Ranjitgarh with its Occidental influences, and were journeying, though westward, towards the pure unadulterated East in their respective districts. Charteris' sphere of influence was reached first, a land of prevailing sand-colour with oases of almost painful green, over which the Granthi sovereignty had never been more than merely nominal. A Granthi army had made periodic inroads into Darwan, sweeping off all the cattle it could find, by way of collecting the revenue, and the Darwanis retorted by incursions across the Granthi border, designed to assert their independence. Charteris was at the head of a strong force of Granthis, to emphasize the fact that he represented the Ranjitgarh Durbar, not the British Crown nor the Company, and his duties were extensive, if simple. He was to bring down the oppressor and relieve the oppressed, destroy the towers of robber chiefs and induce the occupants to turn their unaccustomed hands to honest labour, establish order in place of confusion, and generally to make it known and felt that there now existed, and must be obeyed, a law superior to the sweet will of the strongest.
Gerrard, passing on towards the south-west, would be faced with quite a different problem, in the solution of which the velvet glove would play a more important part, ostensibly at least, than the iron hand. The province of Agpur formed an indisputable part of the Granthi dominions, but it was ruled by a feudatory prince, who was faithful to his obligations during the lifetime of the great conqueror Ajit Singh, under whose banners he had often ridden to victory, but had seen his opportunity in the feeble rule of Ajit Singh's successors. One concession after another had been wrung by his diplomacy from the hands of weakling or child, the right to raise troops in his own name, to fortify the city of Agpur, and—though this was still contested by certain Ranjitgarh stalwarts—the power of nominating his successor instead of merely recommending his eldest son to the favour of his suzerain. Only a very few steps, a distance that might be bridged by a single resolute advance, had separated Partab Singh from the dignity of a full-blown independent prince, when the nerveless hands of the Ranjitgarh ruler were suddenly reinforced by the strong grasp of a British Resident upon the reins. For a short time it was doubtful whether the stiff-necked old Rajah would not put his fate to the touch, and come to death-grips with British power acting in the name of the Durbar, but wiser counsels prevailed. Partab Singh paid his tribute, with no more deduction than could be accounted for by the ever-ready plea of a bad harvest, and gave no excuse for marching troops into his territory. But he would not swell the triumph of the upstart Durbar by showing himself at Ranjitgarh, nor would he lower his dignity by making any response to Colonel Antony's overtures. He remained in self-imposed seclusion within the borders of his province, declining either to move or to be moved in anything relating to the welfare of his subjects.
Agpur, then, was the scene of Gerrard's future labours. For his own sake, Partab Singh would have done well to pay up his tribute in full, and not plume himself on the slight saving effected in the name of the bad harvest, for the plea afforded an opening for extending the influence of the central government. Colonel Antony sent word that he was despatching one of his most trusted officers to examine the system of irrigation pursued in the province, and to offer the Rajah any advice his experience might suggest that would tend to mitigate the suffering and loss consequent on bad seasons. Following his usual tactics, Partab Singh returned no answer to the communication, and Gerrard was therefore proceeding under orders which left him with a curious combination of strict instructions and wide discretion. He was to observe many other things besides the irrigation system in the course of his journeys—Partab Singh's military dispositions, the attitude of the people towards him, and also towards Ranjitgarh and the British, and the amount of union or disunion visible between the Mohammedan and Granthi elements in the population. If possible, he was to obtain supplies in the usual way from the village headmen as he passed, but should they be withheld, he was to make arrangements to be supplied from Darwan, rather than be forced to an ignominious retreat. The city of Agpur he was not to enter without an express invitation from its ruler, nor in any way to force himself upon his attention; but should accident, or any faint glimmerings of a conciliatory spirit on the part of Partab Singh, bring them together, he was to leave no means untried to win the Rajah's friendship. The probabilities were that the old ruler would either continue in his attitude of sullen withdrawal, or advertise his intention of maintaining the integrity of his dominions by wiping out the intruders, but that could not be helped. Gerrard took his life in his hand, and no one thought very much of the risk. Colonel Antony had a way of casting forth his subordinates into troubled waters, to sink or swim as best they might, and being picked men after his own heart, they had a way of returning triumphant, bringing with them treasures snatched from the deep.