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

by Alexander Wilson

  ‘Where is the despatch?’

  Cousins took it from the breast pocket of his jacket, and held it out to the other, who read the superscription, and examined the seals.

  ‘H’m!’ he grunted. ‘I suppose you can show me some proof of your authority. You see, one has to be very careful in a mar like this.’

  In reply Cousins undid his waistcoat, and opening his shirt, disclosed a belt made of soft leather in which were two or three pockets with buttoned flaps. Opening one of these he drew out a folded parchment, which he handed to the Captain. The latter unfolded and read it, then returned it with a look of interest at his visitor.

  ‘Thank you!’ he said. ‘I shall be only too delighted to carry your package home for you. To whom am I to deliver it?’

  ‘You will be met at Marseilles, probably by one of the King’s Messengers. At all events whoever asks you for the despatch will produce ample authority.’

  The Captain rose and, taking the large official envelope across to a safe hidden behind a curtain, he locked it away, and returned to his desk.

  ‘You would like a receipt, of course?’ he asked.

  ‘Please!’

  When Cousins had put the receipt in his pocket, the Captain held out his hand.

  ‘I am glad to be of service to you,’ he said.

  ‘And I thank you for your courtesy, sir,’ replied the little man. ‘You understand, of course, that nobody knows that you have that packet!’

  ‘Nobody will know,’ replied the bronzed sailor. ‘Goodbye!’

  Cousins left the ship, and waited about on the wharf until she sailed.

  When two days later he arrived back in Lahore and drove to the bungalow in a tonga, having once more resumed his normal appearance, it was immediately reported to Novar and Rahtz, who had been much intrigued by his disappearance, that he had returned with a suitcase and a roll of bedding. This caused a good deal of conjecture to the Russians, who felt uneasy over the business.

  ‘My friend,’ said Novar to the other, ‘if this man can disappear so simply and leave no trace, depend upon it we have a much more dangerous proposition in him and his master than we thought. They obviously know that they are watched.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense!’ replied Rahtz. ‘It was the foolishness of the driver of your car, which enabled Shannon to slip away on the Cantonment road.’

  ‘Our shadowers have twice been slipped now,’ Novar reminded him.

  On the night of Cousins’ return there was a big dance at the Club, to which Joan and Hugh went. By this time they had made many friends, some of them being very nice people, and as soon as Hugh walked into the gentlemen’s cloakroom he was greeted on all sides. One man, a small, straight fellow, with a dark, rugged face, and a large military moustache, welcomed him with particular warmth.

  ‘Come and have a drink!’ he invited, in a hoarse voice. ‘I haven’t seen you lately.’

  ‘Presently!’ said Hugh. ‘I must see my sister settled first!’

  The other laughed.

  ‘There will be plenty of men to see to Miss Shannon’s comfort,’ he said.

  ‘I prefer to see to it myself,’ said Hugh, and leaving the room, he met Joan who had just emerged from the ladies’ retiring room. He found a couple of cane chairs and a table in a corner and escorted her to them. Immediately they were joined by a tall, willowy girl with a bored expression on her face, and a most affected air.

  ‘You two are always together,’ she said languidly, dropping into the chair Hugh pushed forward for her. ‘Do you always intend keeping the men from your sister, Mr Shannon?’

  Although she knew Hugh was a captain, she never, under any circumstances, gave him his proper title, probably because her fiancé, the man who had spoken to Shannon in the cloakroom, had risen to the temporary rank of captain during the war and was never now known by any other title than plain mister. She was the type of girl who considered that she first, and her fiancé second, should be the centre of interest always; she expected every other man to take a back seat when he was present, and she loved to bask in his imagined importance. He was entirely the right man for her, for he also looked upon himself as a born leader, and was surprised when people did not hang on his words with the respect and deference which he considered was his right.

  ‘I’ve no desire to keep anyone from my sister, Miss Palmer,’ said Hugh.

  ‘Well, you are always hovering over her like a sentry,’ replied Miss Palmer disdainfully. ‘That sort of thing might be all right for England, but things are different in India.’

  ‘I like Hugh to hover over me, as you call it,’ said Joan.

  ‘But, my dear, it’s not done. Anybody would think he was a lover, instead of a brother.’

  ‘I prefer to have a brother, thank you!’

  Miss Palmer laughed in a tired way.

  ‘Are you afraid of the men out here?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘You can always choose your own friends, you know. I do, and I’m naturally most particular. One can’t know everyone!’ She laid emphasis on the ‘know’.

  At that moment a nice-looking boy came up, and asked Joan for a dance. The latter smiled, and a moment later was fox-trotting happily with her young partner. Miss Palmer sniffed.

  ‘A nice boy,’ she remarked, ‘but he’s so young, and in such a subordinate position. It does not do to encourage people like that too much.’

  ‘Most people have to start in a subordinate position, Miss Palmer,’ said Hugh. ‘And I’d rather that boy danced with my sister than a good many of the senior men – that fellow, for instance!’

  He indicated Hudson, who was passing on the other side of the room.

  ‘Mr Hudson!’ she exclaimed, almost in horror. ‘Why, he’s a most charming man! Do you know that he draws over two thousand rupees a month?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind if he drew twenty thousand, my opinion would remain the same.’

  ‘How perfectly ridiculous you are!’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose that Mr Hudson would bother about your opinion. You see he occupies rather an important position, and after all, you are only an assistant in an obscure college, aren’t you?’

  She expected to irritate him, but when he laughed with wholehearted enjoyment she bit her lip with annoyance.

  ‘Shall we dance?’ he suggested.

  ‘No; I don’t want to dance just yet, thanks!’

  ‘Snubbed!’ thought Hugh to himself and smiled again.

  At that moment the Deputy Commissioner came up. Miss Palmer put on her best smile; surely he must be coming to ask her to dance, it was rather more than she had expected, but after all only her due. Apparently he thought differently, for he merely bowed slightly to her, and held out his hand to Hugh.

  ‘How are you, Shannon?’ he said. ‘Can you spare me five minutes some time this evening?’

  ‘Of course!’ replied Hugh.

  ‘Good! I’d like to have a chat with you. By the way, remind Miss Shannon that she promised me a dance tonight, will you? I’ll come and find her myself later on,’ he added, and with a nod, and another formal bow to Miss Palmer, he passed on.

  ‘Will you excuse me?’ said Hugh, turning to Miss Palmer. ‘I promised Groves to go and have a drink with him.’

  ‘Tell him I am waiting here, will you?’ she said, an angry spot on either cheek.

  ‘With pleasure!’ he murmured, and wandered away.

  He found Groves in the bar in the centre of a crowd of cronies.

  ‘You’ve been a long time,’ the dark man said. ‘What is yours? A peg?’

  ‘Thanks. A small one! I’ve been talking to Miss Palmer. She told me to tell you that she is waiting for you.’

  ‘Isn’t she dancing?’

  ‘No. I asked her, but she said she didn’t want to dance just yet.’

  ‘She wants her Basil,’ said one of the other men, and Groves joined in the laugh which followed.

  Hugh gritted his teeth. He wondered what he would have done, if
he had been engaged, and any man had spoken of his fiancée in a tone like that.

  ‘I won’t be very long,’ said Groves.

  For ten minutes Hugh listened to the conversation, which was mainly about girls. Opinions were expressed to which he was unused, and his companions began to sicken him. They discussed people with a familiarity that was almost indecent, and spoke of marriage as a necessity that must be regarded from the point of view of one’s future welfare. Girls who were daughters of men with not very important positions were talked of as ‘nice little things’ to have a bit of fun with, but there the line must be drawn.

  At last with a feeling of nausea Hugh made an excuse and wandered away. Groves followed him.

  ‘Must do a little dancing,’ he said. ‘Women expect it, although it doesn’t appeal to me much.’

  Hugh was puzzled regarding Groves. He spoke without any trace of the Eurasian about him, but he was so dark, admitted being born in India and spoke Hindustani so perfectly, that it certainly seemed that there was a trace of the mixture somewhere. Yet, whenever he spoke of the half-breeds, he expressed the most utter contempt, and derided them at every possible opportunity. But Miles had said that Eurasians always made a point of running their own people down, unless they were so dark that they knew they gave themselves away. And Groves was not too dark – many Englishmen who had spent their lives in India were as brown as he. Hugh, with a growing contempt in his heart, decided in his own mind that the man was – more than doubtful.

  He drifted away from him and paid his respects to various people. He had been looking for some of the friends whom he really appreciated, but tonight he seemed to be unlucky. Time and again he was compelled to speak to women whose whole object in life appeared to be a desire to pull their neighbours to pieces. They criticised other women’s gowns, spoke openly of their family affairs, discussed how much each man they noticed earned, and how much he allowed his wife. These women comprised the usual social stratum of Lahore, and were typical of most towns in India; and their men-folk, in their own way, were as mean, intolerant and despicable in the expression of their opinions as were their wives. Hugh began to look with horror and loathing upon an existence which appeared to sap all that was best and sweetest out of life, and transformed it into a hideous, grasping, money-making, place-seeking travesty. Above these people, however, there was a society which had the freshness, and the charity, the purity and the toleration of the best circles at home, and that, Hugh knew, circled round the Governor. He had never met the gentleman who controlled the affairs of the Punjab, but he had met many of the people who were in the confidence of His Excellency, and he knew them to have all the attributes of the true, straight Englishman. Sir Reginald Scott, then so ably administering affairs as Governor, would have none but the very ablest, the very finest and the most honourable men round him. And those men had wives who were imbued with their own spirit, and would glorify the name of Great Britain anywhere.

  After dancing twice with people he would rather never have met, Hugh found his way to the corner table he had reserved for Joan and himself. It was vacant and he sank into a chair with a feeling of intense boredom. Presently Joan arrived on the arm of one of the men who had formed a circle around Groves at the bar. It almost hurt him to see his sister in such company, but there was nothing he could do but bow to the inevitable of Indian social life. He forced a smile as Durrell, a fair-haired, conceited fop, led Joan to her chair.

  ‘I have been trying to persuade your sister to take part in a charity concert I am getting up,’ said the elegant, ‘but she will not give a definite answer. You’ll add your persuasive powers to mine, won’t you?’

  ‘My sister is her own mistress!’ said Hugh. ‘I’m afraid I cannot influence her.’

  ‘I’ll think it over, and let you know in a day or two, Mr Durrell,’ said Joan, smiling at him in a manner that had captivated many impressionable young men.

  He bowed and withdrew, his eyes eloquent of unspoken thoughts.

  ‘Oh, Joan!’ groaned Hugh. ‘Isn’t this atmosphere awful? I am longing for some wholesome, outdoor air to chase away the thoughts of these people, and their narrow, mean outlook on life.’

  She touched his arm.

  ‘I know, dear,’ she said. ‘I feel just like you. I often wish that I had never left England. But we’ll stick it, Hugh, until your work is finished.’

  ‘I hate to think of your being thrown among these creatures, Joan.’

  ‘I know you do, dear old boy, but I’ve got you to look after me and there are Mr Miles and Mr Cousins and a few others who are – gentlemen!’

  ‘Say,’ said a voice behind them, ‘I’ve been looking for you folks all the evening.’

  Miles looked at them with the pleased smile of one who had found friends.

  ‘Pull a chair up, and have a drink, Oscar!’ said Hugh, using the other’s Christian name for the first time. ‘You’re the man we’ve been waiting for!’

  ‘How did you know I was coming here? I remember saying, when I went out to dinner, that I didn’t think I would.’

  ‘I know. Perhaps I should have said, you’re the type of man we’ve been waiting for.’

  Miles looked at him curiously.

  ‘Guess something’s got your goat, Hugh,’ he said.

  ‘Yes; these awful people have!’ muttered Shannon.

  The other grinned.

  ‘Don’t let them worry you any!’ he remarked. ‘They can’t help themselves – I think the climate may have something to do with it and certainly the life that some white people live out here is real bad for them in many ways. They regard themselves as the Lord’s chosen, and everybody else as dirt beneath their feet. It can’t hurt you or me, or Miss Joan, so I guess it’s best to let them tread their rotten little path, and not bother about them.’

  ‘But one has to meet them, to listen to them, to dance with them and if one disagrees with their snobbishly expressed opinions they look as though they have met some strange insect which should be put out of the way. Only a few minutes ago I ventured to disagree with a certain lady’s unkind comments upon a young man, whom she considered was not the type who should be admitted to the Club. He had received a first-class education, but had not been to a public school, and above all was in a most subordinate position.’

  Miles chuckled.

  ‘I can just imagine the dear old thing speaking,’ he said; ‘nose in air, a dainty sniff at intervals, and a pained droop of the eyelids. You’ll be getting yourself unpopular if you disagree with these dames. What did she say when you dared to contradict her?’

  ‘She looked me up and down, gave a wintry smile and turning to another woman the same type as herself said, quite distinctly enough for me to hear, “Professor Shannon is quite nice, but has the most extraordinary ideas!” And the other remarked that most professors were eccentric.’

  Joan and Miles laughed, and presently his sense of humour getting the better of him, Hugh joined in.

  ‘It has its funny side,’ said Joan, ‘though it is rather pathetic to reflect that those people are our countrymen and women.’

  ‘And what makes it worse,’ went on Hugh, ‘is that nearly every man here tonight swears he is from an English public school. They go about in the daytime sporting old boys’ ties; and I bet not half of them have the right to wear them.’

  ‘How do they get them then?’ inquired Miles.

  ‘Why there are shops in London where one can buy ties of any old boys’ association. Man alive, the spirit of a public school dies hard in one, and a real public school man would never stoop to the petty meanness that these fellows show. I bet I could pick out the real old boys amongst them.’

  ‘This public school spirit is a bit of a shibboleth with you folks, isn’t it? We’ve got nothing like it in the States.’

  ‘It is at home, but out here it is ruined and made a laughing stock of by the conduct of the men who are supposed to be the results of a public school education. I sometimes think that y
ou, Oscar, and people of your nationality must quietly laugh at us and feel rather a contempt for our cheap egoism.’

  ‘You’re being a little drastic, Hugh,’ returned Miles. ‘I have some sense; quite enough to know that it is only in India that your compatriots lose their best characteristics; and that is because they are members of the ruling race.’

  ‘Ruling race, pshaw!’ said Hugh in deep disgust. He swept his arm round in a comprehensive gesture. ‘Behold the rulers!’ he said bitterly.

  ‘I get you,’ nodded the American. ‘About one half look as though they couldn’t rule a dustbin!’

  ‘They’ve no broad-mindedness, no understanding, they are puffed up with their own imagined importance. If a little bit of scandal touches one of them, the rest edge away, raise their noses in the air, and look at each other askance, while all the time their own inner lives wouldn’t bear looking into. Thank God, there are some people here in India who retain all that is best in them, and, by Jove! It is jolly good to get among them, and away from the snobs and their erotic sycophants!’

  ‘Forget it, Hugh!’ said Miles, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Miss Joan, I came from that dinner on purpose to ask you for a dance.’

  A minute later he and Joan whirled away to the strains of a waltz.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Miss Gregson Causes a Sensation

  By the time the supper interval arrived, Hugh’s good humour was completely restored. He had found some of the people he appreciated, and had danced twice with Miss Rainer, the Deputy Commissioner’s daughter, a pretty dark-haired girl, who possessed an abundance of common sense as well as good looks.

  He took her in to supper, and they sat with Joan and Miles at a table in a secluded part of the room. Close by were Groves and Miss Palmer seated with a plump little lady, Mrs Renfrew – who knew all about everybody in Lahore and added a great deal more – and her attendant cavalier, a tall, thin, vacuous-looking man, who possessed a wife, but was never seen with her.