Devil's Cocktail (Wallace of the Secret Service Series)

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘Well I’m right here if you’ll have me.’ He smiled, but his face had paled a little as he spoke.

  ‘This is delightful,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘I’m so glad!’

  ‘And believe me it’s real nice of you. Guess I’ll have to find a new size in hats now.’

  ‘Oh, you’re being flippant!’ She looked at him reproachfully.

  ‘Not on your life, Miss Shannon,’ he protested. ‘I’m trying to show you how I appreciate your kindness to me.’

  ‘Don’t put it like that,’ she said. ‘It will spoil everything.’

  ‘Then I’ll just keep mum and think it. Gee!’ he exclaimed suddenly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Look!’

  Visitors were just being permitted to come on board, and amongst others was a large lady, very tall and very fat, notwithstanding the efforts of her dressmaker. She was almost as dark as an Indian, and with her small acquisitive eyes and pendulous cheeks, she was not at all the sort of person one would be enamoured of meeting. She sailed down on Miss Gregson with an air of possession, and as Miles pointed her out to Joan she was engaged in enclosing the fair Olive in a large and ponderous embrace.

  ‘Who can that be?’ wondered Joan.

  Miles chuckled sardonically.

  ‘Guess it’s Ma,’ he said. ‘Kindly excuse me a moment, Miss Shannon.’

  He strolled across the deck to where Miss Gregson was engaged in releasing herself from the maternal hold. The young lady looked anything but pleased, and as Miles came close to them he heard her say:

  ‘Why come all this way, Mother? It was not necessary to meet me at all!’

  ‘Say, Miss Gregson,’ put in the American. ‘I guess this is your Ma. May I have the pleasure of being presented to her?’

  A look of embarrassed fury came over the girl’s face, and she performed the introduction almost rudely. Miles stood chatting with them for a moment or two and found the old lady to be coarse in her speech and over-elaborate in her manners; then raising his hat politely he said goodbye and returned to Joan.

  ‘Hugh would have had a handful in Ma if he had been inveigled into a marriage with Olive,’ he chuckled.

  Joan shuddered.

  ‘Why did you go over to them?’ she asked.

  ‘Just vulgar curiosity,’ he said. ‘I ought to be ashamed of myself, but I’m not. I found out that my suspicions were right – Olive is one part British and ninety-nine Eurasian.’

  Hugh joined them soon afterwards, and when he was shown Mrs Gregson, almost collapsed on the deck with shock.

  ‘Let’s get ashore,’ he said. ‘The sooner I am away from Olive Gregson, the better I’ll be pleased.’

  ‘Say, Shannon,’ said the American, ‘you sure are not going off without kissing her goodbye?’

  Hugh gave him a look that should have transfixed him, then turning, led Joan down the gangway to the landing-stage, followed by the grinning American.

  Cousins insisted on performing his duties as the ideal valet should. He saw the baggage through the Customs and into the train, reserved berths through to Lahore, and generally conducted all necessary details with the gravity and imperturbability of an experienced gentleman’s gentleman. Through it all Miles watched him with a smile of admiration.

  ‘Say Jerry,’ he remarked once as the little man was standing near him: ‘what an honest to goodness valet you would have made, if your sins hadn’t led you into more serious paths!’

  Cousins pushed his topee on to the back of his head.

  ‘I always wanted to be a valet when I was a child,’ he said. ‘When other boys were dreaming about bus conductors and engine-drivers I sighed for the delights of a job like this. I was, as Goldsmith said, “too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit”.’

  Even in the midst of his multifarious duties he found time to look round him. He had noticed Hudson leave the ship and meet two men; one was short and inclined to embonpoint, the other middle-aged, tall and saturnine, with a moustache that did not hide the cruelty of his mouth. Hudson appeared uneasy in their company, and Cousins spent some seconds speculating on the cause of his anxiety. He contrived to get near without being observed, but their conversation was not at all interesting, and all he learnt was that the three of them were staying in Bombay for a couple of days, and then travelling to Lahore.

  Cousins conducted Joan and Hugh to a reserved coupé with the air of a guide expatiating on the delights of some famous work of art.

  ‘Now you have nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘Your berth is next door, Miss Shannon, so you will be near your brother all night, as well as with him by day.’

  ‘Where are you travelling?’ asked Hugh.

  ‘Oh, I have a second-class compartment a few coaches down, with three cronies I found on board ship.’

  ‘It’s a shame that you should travel in the second class,’ said Joan.

  ‘Not a bit of it – I like it. My companions are all going to Lahore; one of them is a bandmaster and has a violin with him, another has a flute and as I have a ukulele—’

  ‘You with a ukulele!’ laughed the girl.

  ‘Why not? It’s not exactly high art, but there is a trace of music in it. So between us, or rather together, we should produce a melody or two to “speed the passing hours”. I’m not sure who said that – do you know, Shannon, I – er – mean, sir?’

  ‘No, I don’t!’ returned Hugh, shortly.

  ‘What a confession for a Professor of English to make!’

  ‘Don’t remind me of that for the Lord’s sake!’ said Hugh. ‘I’m getting thoroughly nervous about it.’

  ‘Never mind!’ said Cousins soothingly. ‘You’ve me to fall back upon, and I’ll toddle along and help you out with a few quotations. Always at your service, I remain, yours faithfully!’

  A bell rang and people began to take their seats.

  ‘Where is Mr Miles?’ asked Joan. ‘I hope he hasn’t gone off without saying goodbye.’

  ‘I lost him ten minutes ago,’ said Cousins, ‘making his way in the direction of the telegraph office.’

  ‘Then probably he has had his little think,’ said Hugh, ‘and has decided where to go.’

  The second bell rang and the engine gave a piercing whistle in reply. At the same time the object of their remarks could be seen making his way along the platform, with an enormous pile of papers and magazines in his arms. He smiled genially as he came up.

  ‘I was almost late,’ he said, and dumped his load into the compartment. ‘Something to look at,’ he added, by way of explanation.

  ‘How nice of you!’ said Joan. ‘Thank you so much! Have you decided where you are going yet?’

  ‘Yes! I reckon stay here for a week, and go on a bender.’

  ‘On a bender! And in Bombay!’ muttered Cousins.

  ‘Then,’ went on Miles, ‘I guess I’ll come right along to Lahore. I sure am looking forward to seeing a lot more of you folks; and perhaps I can butt in somewhere?’ He looked at Hugh questioningly.

  The latter nodded, while Joan expressed her pleasure. The American gazed down the platform thoughtfully.

  ‘What are you looking at with such a wild expression, Oscar?’ asked Cousins.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied the other shortly.

  ‘Like Alexander Selkirk,’ said the little man; ‘you are “monarch of all you survey”.’

  The train commenced to move and the hand-clasps had to be hasty. Cousins stood talking earnestly to his friend on the platform, and almost missed the train in consequence, but recollecting in time that he was travelling by it, he ran along to his compartment and dragged himself aboard, the American pushing him from behind.

  Train travelling is rather a tiring business in India, and even at the best time of the year the atmosphere in a railway compartment is hot and unpleasant. In spite of this Joan found a lot to interest her on the forty hours’ journey to Lahore. Everything was so strange and novel, and even Hugh, who had spent some years in
the country before, was full of delight as he recognised places he had known. He was never tired of pointing out interesting sights to his sister, and explaining the difference between the various races that they saw during the journey. He had sent a wire to Mahommed Abdullah informing him of their arrival, and asking him to make arrangements for them to be met in Lahore.

  He had not exaggerated when he said that he was nervous about taking up the duties of a professor. Although he was a man of splendid qualifications and ability, he had never undertaken such a post before, and he was rather inclined to belittle his chances of success than otherwise. He wondered also how he would fare in his other and more important task. He realised the responsibility that the Chief had put upon his shoulders, and the necessity for using the greatest tact and delicacy in all his operations. He would be compelled, too, to work more or less in the dark, for he could expect no assistance from any Indian public man, and indeed could not ask for it, for fear of causing misunderstanding and, in consequence, suspicion and distrust.

  Great Britain’s policy of uprooting all causes of trouble in India was an ideal which could easily be open to misconception, and thus the necessity for Hugh to be careful how he set to work. He had one great satisfaction, and that was that he had the assistance of such an astute and capable man as Cousins. The little man was full of resource and seldom made a mistake, and Hugh would have a great asset in the quick wit and deep reasoning power of one of the most successful of Great Britain’s secret agents. In fact, Shannon laughed to himself as he reflected that he would probably have to take a back seat as far as their investigations went, for he acknowledged to himself that he was not the equal of the little man from Whitehall.

  The train raced on by fields, sandy plains, wooded hills and country districts that at times almost resembled home. It stopped at all the big towns such as Indore, Bhopal, Agra, Delhi, and Ambala, and Cousins spent a good deal of his time with Joan and Hugh, regaling them with his witty chat and stories, and once bringing along his ukulele, when he surprised them by his mastery of the little instrument; but he never obtruded, and to the casual observer was in every way the well-behaved deferential valet.

  At last the train drew into the great station of Lahore, and at once the door of their coupé was besieged by a crowd of red-coated coolies, clamouring to carry their luggage. Hugh stood on the step and looked round him. There was a great crowd on the platform and presently, to his surprise, he saw Mahommed Abdullah. The latter saw him at the same time and waved his hand. Almost immediately there was a rush by a crowd of cleanly-dressed young men in the red fez, or turban, long coats and broad white trousers of the Mussulman. They surrounded the door and cheered, and Hugh’s heart sank with embarrassment as he realised that these were, no doubt, his future students, who had come to welcome him. Joan’s fate paled nervously, but her eyes sparkled with pleasure, and she clutched hold of his arm. Mahommed Abdullah made his way to them, and took Hugh warmly by the hand.

  ‘Welcome to Lahore, Captain Shannon,’ he said, and then turning to the students he added loudly, ‘Gentlemen, this is your future Professor of English.’

  There was another cheer, and immediately several of the young men pushed forward, and Hugh and Joan found their necks encircled by garlands of flowers. Hugh shakily presented his sister to Abdullah, who welcomed her very charmingly. Then there were speeches, and Shannon found himself in the unique position of having to reply from the step of a railway coach. In spite of his nervousness it was quite a good effort, and Joan pleased him afterwards by telling him that it was splendid.

  ‘The students will see to your luggage,’ said Abdullah. ‘I have obtained rooms for you at the Punjab Hotel for the present; you can make your own arrangements later on. My car is waiting outside and I will drive you there, then perhaps you will lunch with me.’

  ‘It is awfully good of you,’ said Hugh, ‘but my own man insisted on coming to India with me – I have had him for so long, you see. He will look after the luggage! Here he is!’

  Cousins made his way through the throng, his face creased in a hundred wrinkles, denoting his amusement. Abdullah explained who he was to the students, and Cousins received a cheer, and some garlands all for himself.

  Then the Principal led Joan and Hugh along the platform to his car, followed by the wildly excited young men, and with Cousins bringing up the rear. Hugh explained to the latter where he was to take the luggage, then entered the car with Joan and Abdullah. There were more cheers and they were off. Cousins stood watching them until they were out of sight.

  ‘Here endeth the first lesson,’ he said, and turned to the smiling students. ‘Young men,’ he added, ‘you little know the trials that are before you. However, “where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise”.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Shannon Meets His Colleagues

  Joan and Hugh soon settled down in their new quarters at the Punjab Hotel, but as Hugh explained to Abdullah, they would not be able to stay there on account of the expense. No provision was made for European servants, and, therefore, Cousins cost almost as much as each of them did. Abdullah promised to help them to find a bungalow and matters were left at that for the time being.

  The day following their arrival in Lahore, Hugh made his first appearance in Sheranwala College. Abdullah called for him and drove him there. He felt extremely nervous, and when he found that he was down on the timetable for four lectures a day, except on Friday, which is a Muslim holiday, he wondered if his throat would stand the strain. Three of these lectures were to the fourth-year students and one to the third.

  He commenced his duties at once, and entering the fourth year lecture room, was received in dead silence from about a hundred and twenty Mahommedan young men, whose ages ranged from nineteen to twenty-four. They looked at him curiously and he returned the scrutiny with interest. Most of them looked intelligent – a few had extremely clever faces – but there were also many who, from their expressions, seemed to lack any ability at all. Quietly Hugh summed them up, and his nervousness gradually left him. He made a little speech in which he told them that he was glad to be among them, and hoped that they would find him of great use in their efforts to obtain the degrees of Bachelors of Arts and Science. When he had finished he was enthusiastically clapped and with more confidence than he had expected he started on his work.

  To his surprise he found it fairly easy and although the students had a certain amount of difficulty in understanding his pronunciation, he was very patient and was careful to enquire every now and again if he were understood. They appeared, in the majority of cases, to be very keen and listened to him with care and intelligence, but there were one or two who appeared bored, and took no interest in the lecture at all. He felt a delight in asking the latter questions, to none of which they could reply, and they aggravated him by standing up and grinning sheepishly when he spoke to them, and by making no attempt to reply at all. It was the same with all of his classes, and he came to the conclusion that things were not going to be difficult at all. He found the most trouble with the third-year fellows. They were not taking their examination for two years and appeared to consider it unnecessary to work until they were in their fourth year. All of them, both of the third and fourth years, had very little idea of discipline, and on the slightest provocation broke out into loud chatter. Shannon soon made it clear that he would not tolerate such conduct and this appeared to surprise them.

  So his first morning passed by, and at half past one, when his last lecture came to an end, his throat was so sore that he could hardly speak above a hoarse whisper. He made his way to the Principal’s office in response to a summons, and having been told to take a seat, sat down with a sigh of relief.

  ‘Well, how have you got on?’ asked Abdullah.

  ‘Oh, pretty well, thanks,’ replied Hugh; ‘but it seems to me that I shall have no voice left after a few days.’

  The other smiled.

  ‘You will get used to that,’ he said.
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  ‘Perhaps so; but don’t you think that four lectures without a break is excessive. Surely it is overworking your professors to compel them to do so much?’

  ‘It is a lot certainly, but the authorities desire every professor to take twenty-seven periods a week. You have only twenty-two, for I have only given you two on Sunday.’

  Hugh looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Am I expected to work on Sunday too?’ he asked.

  ‘I am afraid so. You see this is a Mahommedan College and the holiday is on Friday – not, Sunday. Of course if you prefer I could break up your lectures, so that you had two in the morning and two in the afternoon, but I arranged them altogether so that you would have your afternoons free.’

  Hugh was thoughtful for a few minutes.

  ‘I think I’d rather risk the strain of the four together,’ he said, ‘if that ensures my freedom every afternoon.’

  Abdullah placed his fingertips together.

  ‘Of course you are expected to take charge of all the sports and I’m afraid that that will take up a great deal of your spare time.’

  Hugh laughed.

  ‘Is there anything else?’ he asked, with a note of sarcasm in his voice. ‘Please tell me now – I think I can bear it!’

  Abdullah frowned. After all he was the Principal, and he did not like levity from his subordinates.

  ‘I think that is all – at present!’ he said.

  ‘Thank you!’ returned Hugh calmly, then he laughed. ‘It has its humours!’ he said.

  ‘Everything has a humorous side,’ said Abdullah, ‘and I assure you I agree with you that my professors are overworked. I have already discovered that my post here is by no means a sinecure. I spoke to the governing body about the necessity of engaging at least three other professors, and thus relieving my present staff of some of its work. But they regarded me with horror – their idea is to have as few professors as possible, and to overwork them as much as they can – they do not like paying out money. In confidence, I may as well tell you that they would never have countenanced your engagement – they think it wicked to pay out as much as five hundred rupees a month to one man – if it had not been that the Government refused to give them a grant unless there were at least three men with English degrees on the staff.’