A Galahad Of The Creeks; The Widow Lamport Part 4

The Madra.s.see watched his superior keenly from his chair, and a wicked smile stole over his features as he half expressed his thoughts.

"Pozendine will get sack, and I will become chief clerk." He then placidly put up a memo. for orders on the subject of the wasteful extravagance in blue pencil indulged in by the district engineer.

"I can not stand that beast of a head clerk, Jackson," and Hawkshawe, flinging himself into a chair, pulled out a long brown-leather cheroot case and extracted a gigantic cheroot therefrom.

Peregrine looked up as he said slowly: "Why not? He seems a decent sort of fellow--all nerves, though, I expect, but most men of his cla.s.s are. But what has he been doing to upset you?"

"Oh, nothing in particular, only I don't like him; can't help it, perhaps, but I hate him like poison. Why don't you get rid of the brute? He's been too long here. Is a sort of power in the place, and owns property. That's the sort of man who gets his palm greased, you know."

"It's a very serious matter to punish a man for a fault you think he's going to commit. Still, as you say, he has too much power; but that can be remedied without resorting to anything like the measures you suggest."

Hawkshawe shrugged his broad shoulders. "As you please; but if the crash comes, don't say I didn't warn you. However, I didn't come to talk to you about this, but to ask you if you think it wise to have so much money at Yeo. There's close on a hundred thousand there, and the engineer on the famine works a native, too."

"What can be done? There is a strong guard, I believe?"

"Yes, twenty men, and old Serferez Ali, my inspector, commands them.

He's the best man in the service. Still, I think you had better bring in the money."

"You think there is any danger?"

"Absolutely none that I know of at present; but old Bah Hmoay has been so quiet of late that I'm afraid mischief is brewing, and one never knows what may happen."

"We have, then, two alternatives before us--either to bring in the money or the greater part of it here, and send it out as it is wanted, exposing it to the danger of being stuck up, to use a slang phrase, on its pa.s.sage, or to increase the police guard. Have we the men?"

"Yes," he said, "I can spare thirty men on Sat.u.r.day, and will send them up then. With fifty men Serferez Ali could hold out against ten thousand dacoits."

"Very well, so be it."

"That's settled, then. Hola! what have we here, a _billet-doux?_" and Hawkshawe held between his finger and thumb the gray envelope he had taken from the messenger who brought it into the room and handed it to Peregrine. "Is the fair Ruys asking you to dinner?"

For the life of him Jackson could not help the hot blood rushing to his face, and there was something inexpressibly galling in Hawkshawe's tone. "Excuse me," and he tore open the envelope. It was an invitation to dine, and as he put it down Hawkshawe made a further remark that stung him to the quick. He turned round upon his visitor and said shortly, "Supposing we drop the subject or drop each other."

Hawkshawe stared at him, and then, pulling his cheroot slowly from his mouth, apologized awkwardly. "Didn't mean to offend you, old chap--beg pardon and all that--will come in and see if you can go out for a ride later on."

He clanked out of the room and left Jackson to himself. Peregrine picked up the note and read it again, and there was again a struggle within him. Should he face or flee the temptation? He felt that the latter alternative was hardly possible, and then it would be cowardly.

No, he was going to deliberately try his strength against himself; the battle should be fought out to the end. He would face the trouble and he would conquer. He felt that the love that had sprung into being, like Pallas, full armed, could only be conquered by grappling it by the throat. He could not run from himself, and he would not if he could. So he wrote a few lines accepting the invitation, and then, deliberately tearing Ruys's letter up into the smallest fragments, turned to his files and plodded on steadily. He must have worked in this way for at least a couple of hours when an unaccountable feeling told him there was some one in the room. He looked up, but saw no one, and was just about to turn to his work again when something was thrust over his shoulder, and, turning round, he saw Anthony Pozendine.

"What is it, Mr. Pozendine?"

Anthony could hardly speak. He stammered out something about Mr.

Hawkshawe--abuse--damfool--and, placing his complaint on the table before his chief, stood bolt upright at attention, for he was a volunteer.

Jackson patiently read every line of the four pages of foolscap, and then turned gravely on Anthony.

"Mr. Pozendine, you are on very dangerous ground. If your story about the abuse is true, you have perhaps a little cause of complaint; but as for the rest, it is absurd. Do you know what you are saying about Mr. Hawkshawe?"

"Yes, sir. It is true. I will go into court and swear; so also will Mr. Iyer."

Peregrine touched a bell. "Send Mr. Iyer here," he said to the messenger.

A minute after Mr. Iyer came. He stepped into the room briskly, seemed a trifle surprised to see Anthony, but said nothing. "Mr. Iyer," said Jackson, "Mr. Pozendine here says you are prepared to bear him out in certain statements he makes. Perhaps, Mr. Pozendine, you had better explain."

"Yes, sir," said Anthony, while the Madra.s.see's face a.s.sumed an expression of the utmost concern.

"You know what I have written here?" said Anthony.

"No," replied Iyer, holding up a deprecating hand, "I know nothing."

"Didn't Mr. Hawkshawe call me a damfool?"

"Every one say so, but I didn't hear. I know nothing."

"The man is frightened, sir," said Anthony to Jackson.

"There is no necessity to be frightened, Mr. Iyer; you can speak freely."

"Frightened!" said Mr. Iyer. "Why should I be frightened? I am an honest man, of a large family, and will speak the truth."

Anthony's face brightened up as he asked, "Didn't Mr. Hawkshawe take money?"

"Iyoo!" exclaimed the Madra.s.see, flinging up his arms; "I never heard these things. Sir, this man Pozendine is trying to get me into trouble. He is my enemy since long time. He one big liar," and the Madra.s.see shook a finger at Pozendine. "Mr. Hawkshawe take bribe! No, not Mr. Hawkshawe, but Mr. Pozendine. He take bribe from Bah Hmoay and Moung Sen over Dorian fruit--witness--all bazaar knows it. I will bring four--five--one hundred witness. Sir, this one big scoundrel!"

It was too much for Pozendine; his nerves had given way, and with a scream he flung himself at Jackson's feet and grovelled there.

"Pity!" he yelled; "I have twenty-four years' service--pardon!"

An hour later, when Hawkshawe came according to his word to see if Jackson would go for a ride, he found Peregrine apparently idling before his table.

"Ha! I see you've found nothing to do; come along."

"I can't," said Peregrine; "I want to think out something."

"Oh, don't let that little affair of Pozendine's bother you. It didn't happen in your time, you know. You'll get all the credit of finding out about the bribery and corruption."

"Do you know what has happened?"

"Ain't I your Fouche? Are you coming?"

"No, thanks. I must think this out."

Hawkshawe turned and went, whistling gaily. Mounting his horse, he galloped down a long embankment along the river face, and then, reining in, stood apparently watching Pazobin robed in the glories of a wondrous sunset. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I very nearly made an a.s.s of myself over that police guard. Anyhow, if this comes off, no more of it; but Ma Mie is getting dangerous. My nerve is not what it used to be, but--I must get rid of her at all risks. d.a.m.n that straight-laced fool Jackson! He's always bringing back recollections to me, and I, Alban Hawkshawe, can not afford to remember--to think that my honour was once as clean as the palm of my hand, and now----"

He put spurs to his waler, and galloped into the gray mist that surrounded the forest.