by John Buchan
CHAPTER XX
THE EASTERN ROAD
If you travel abroad in certain seasons you will find that a typepredominates among the travellers. From Dover to Calais, from Calais toParis, there is an unnatural eagerness on faces, an unrest in gait, adisorder in dress which argues worry and haste. And if you inquirefurther, being of a speculative turn, you will find that there issomething in the air. The papers, French and English, have uglyheadlines and mystic leaders. Disquiet is in the atmosphere, each manhas a solution or a secret, and far at the back sits some body of menwho know that a crisis is near and square their backs for it. Thejournalist is sick with work and fancied importance; the diplomat's hairwhitens with the game which he cannot understand; the statesman, if hebe wise, is in fear, knowing the meaning of such movements, while, if hebe foolish, he chirps optimistically in his speeches and is applauded inthe press. There are grey faces at the seats of the money-changers, forwar, the scourge of small cords, seems preparing for the overturning oftheir tables, and the castigation of their persons.
Lewis and George rang the bell in the Faubourg St. Honore on a Mondayafternoon, and asked for Lord Rideaux. His lordship was out, but, ifthey were the English gentlemen who had the appointment with M. Gribton,Monsieur would be with them speedily.
Lewis looked about the heavily furnished ante-room with its pale yellowwalls and thick, green curtains, with the air of a man trying to recalla memory. "I came over here with John Lambert, when his father had theplace. That was just after I left Oxford. Gad, I was a happy man then.I thought I could do anything. They put me next to Madame de Ravignetbecause of my French, and because old Ankerville declared that I oughtto know the cleverest woman in Europe. Sery, the man who was Premierlast year, came and wrung my hand afterwards, said my fortune wasassured because I had impressed the Ravignet, and no one had ever doneit before except Bismarck. Ugh, the place is full of ghosts. Poor oldJohn died a year after, and here am I, far enough, God knows, from mygood intentions."
A servant announced "Monsieur Gribton," and a little grizzled manhobbled in, leaning heavily on a stick. He wore a short beard, and inhis tanned face two clever grey eyes twinkled sedately. He shook handsgravely when Lewis introduced George, but his eyes immediately returnedto the former's face.
"You look a fit pair," he said. "I am instructed to give you all thehelp in my power, but I should like to know your game. It isn't sportthis time, is it, Haystoun? Logan is still talking about his week withyou. Well, well, we can do things at our leisure. I have letters towrite, and then it will be dinner-time, when we can talk. Come to theclub at eight, 'Cercle des Voyageurs,' corner of Rue Neuve de St.Michel. I expect you belong, Haystoun; and anyway I'll be there."
He bowed them out with his staccato apologies, and the two returned totheir hotel to dress. Two hours later they found Gribton warming hishands in the smoking-room of the Cercle, a fussy and garrulousgentleman, eager for his dinner. He pointed out such people as he knew,and was consumed with curiosity about the others. Lewis wandered aboutthe room before he sat down, shaking hands with several and nodding tomany.
"You seem to know the whole earth," said Gribton.
"I suppose that a world of acquaintance is the only reward ofslackness," Lewis said, laughing. "It's a trick I have. I never forgeta face and I honestly like to see people again."
George pulled his long moustache. "It's simply hideous the way one isforgotten. It's all right for the busy people, for they shift theirsets with their fortune, but for drones like me it's the saddest thingin life. Before we came away, Lewie, I went up for a day to Oxford tosee about some things, and stopped a night there. I haven't been downlong, and yet I knew nobody at the club except the treasurer, and he hadnothing to say to me except to ask after you. I went to dinner with thedons at the high table, and I nearly perished of the blues. LittleRiddell chirped about my profession, and that bounder Jackson, who wasof our year, pretended that he had been your bosom friend. I got sobored that I left early and wandered back to the club. Somebody wasmaking a racket in our old rooms in the High, windows open, you know,and singing. I stopped to look at them, and then they started, 'Williebrewed a peck o' maut,' and, 'pon my soul, I had to come away. Couldn'tstand it. It reminded me so badly of you and Arthur and old JohnLambert, and all the honest men that used to be there. It wasinfernally absurd that I should have got so sentimental, but that wasn'tthe worst of it. For I met Tony and he made me come round to a dinner,and there I found people I didn't know from Adam drinking the old toastswe started. Gad, they had them all. 'Las Palmas,' 'The Old Guard,''The Wandering Scot,' and all the others. It made me feel as low as anowl, and when I got back to the club and saw poor old John's photographon the wall, I tell you I went to bed in the most wretched melancholy."
Lewis stared open-mouthed at George, the irrepressible, in this newattitude. He, as the hardened traveller, had had little more than adecent pang of home-sickness. His regret was far deeper and more realthan the sentimental article of commerce, and he could afford to bealmost gay while George sat in the depths.
"I'm coming home, and I'm not happy; you young men are going out, andyou have got the blues. There's no pleasing weak humanity. I say,Haystoun, who's that old man?" Gribton's jovial looks belied his words.
Lewis mentioned a name for his host's benefit. The room was emptyingrapidly, for the Cercle dined early.
"Now for business," said Gribton, when a waiter had brought the gamecourse, and they sat in the midst of a desert of linen and velvet. "Ihave given the thing up, but I spent twenty of my best years at Bardur.So, as I am instructed to do all in my power to aid you, I am ready.First, is it sport?
"Partly," said George, but Lewis's head gave denial.
"Because, if it is, I am not the best man. Well, then, is itgeographical? For if it is, there is much to be done."
"Partly," said Lewis.
"Then I take it that the residue is political. You are following thepopular avenue to polities, I suppose. Leave the 'Varsity very raw,knock about in an unintelligent way for three or four years on somefrontier, then come home, go into the House, and pose as a specialist inforeign affairs. I should have thought you had too much humour forthat."
"Only, you see, I have been there before. I am merely going back uponmy tracks to make sure. I go purely as an adventurer, hoping to pick upsome valuable knowledge, but prepared to fail."
Gribton helped himself to champagne. "That's better. Now I know yourattitude, we can talk like friends. Better come to the smallsmoking-room. They've got a '51 brandy here which is beyond words.Have some for a liqueur."
In the smoking-room Gribton fussed about coffee and cigars for manyminutes ere he settled down. Then, when he could gaze around and seehis two guests in deep armchairs, each smoking and comfortable, hereturned to his business.
"I don't mind telling you a secret," he said, "or rather it's only asecret here, for once you get out there you will find 'Gribton's view,'as they call it, well enough known and very much laughed at. I'vealways been held up to ridicule as an alarmist about that Kashmirfrontier, and especially about that Bardur country. Take the wholeprovince. It's well garrisoned on the north, but below that it is allempty and open. The way into the Punjab is as clear as daylight for aswift force, and the way to the Punjab is the way to India."
Lewis rose and went to a rack on the wall. "Do you mind if I get downmaps? These French ones are very good." He spread a sheet of canvas onthe table, thereby confounding all Gribton's hospitable manoeuvring.
"There," said Gribton, his eyes now free from drowsiness, and clear andbright, "that's the road I fear."
"But these three inches are unknown," said Lewis. "I have been myselfas far as these hills."
Gribton looked sharply up. "You don't know the place as I know it.I've never been so far, but I know the sheep-skinned devils who comeacross from Turkestan. I tell you that place isn't the impenetrablecraggy desert that the Government of India thinks it. There's a roadthere of some sort, and if you're worth your
salt you'll find it out."
"I know," said Lewis. "I am going to try."
"There's another thing. For the last three years all that north part ofKashmir, and right away south-west to the Punjab borders, has beenhonoured with visits from plausible Russian gentlemen who may come downby the ordinary caravan routes, or, on the other hand, may not. Theyturn up quite suddenly with tooth-brushes and dressing-cases, and theycan't have come from the south. They fool around in Bardur, and then godown to Gilgit, and, I suppose, on to the Punjab. They've got excellentmanners, and they hang about the clubs and give dinners and charm thewhole neighbourhood. Logan is their bosom friend, and Thwaite declaresthat their society reconciles him to the place. Then they go away, andthe place keeps on the randan for weeks after."
"Do you know a man called Marker by any chance?" Lewis asked.
Gribton looked curiously at the speaker. "Have you actually heard abouthim? Yes, I know him, but not very well, and I can't say I ever caredfor him. However, he is easily the most popular man in Bardur, and Idaresay is a very good fellow. But you don't call him Russian. Ithought he was sort of half a Scotsman."
"Very likely he is," said Lewis. "I happen to have heard a good dealabout him. But what ails you at him?"
"Oh, small things," and the man laughed. "You know I am getting elderlyand cranky, and I like a man to be very fair and four-square. I confessI never got to the bottom of the chap. He was a capital sportsman, goodbridge-player, head like a rock for liquor, and all that; but I'm hangedif he didn't seem to me to be playing some sort of game. Another thing,he seemed to me a terribly cold-blooded devil. He was always slappingpeople on the back and calling them 'dear old fellows,' but I happenedto see a small interview once between him and one of his servants.Perhaps I ought not to mention it, but the thing struck me unpleasantly.It was below the club verandah, and nobody happened to be about exceptmyself, who was dozing after lunch. Marker was rating a servant in someBorder tongue--Chil, it sounded like; and I remember wondering how hecould have picked it up. I saw the whole thing through a chink in thefloor, and I noticed that the servant's face was as grey as a brownhillman's can be. Then the fellow suddenly caught his arm and twistedit round, the man's face working with pain, though he did not dare toutter a sound. It was an ugly sight, and when I caught a glimpse ofMarker's face, 'pon my soul, those straight black eyebrows of his gavehim a most devilish look."
"What's he like to look at?" George asked.
"Oh, he's rather tall, very straight, with a sort of military carriage,and he has one of those perfect oval faces that you sometimes see. Hehas most remarkable black eyes and very neat, thin eyebrows. He is thesort of man you'd turn round to look at if you once passed him in thestreet; and if you once saw him smile you'd begin to like him. It's theprettiest thing I've ever seen."
"I expect I'll run across him somewhere," said Lewis, "and I want badlyto know him. Would you mind giving me an introduction?"
"Charmed!" said Gribton. "Shall I write it now?" And sitting down at atable he scribbled a few lines, put them in an envelope, and gave it toLewis.
"You are pretty certain to know him when you see him, so you can givehim that line. You might run across him anywhere from Hyderabad toRawal Pinch, and in any case you'll hear word of him in Bardur. He'sthe man for your purpose; only, as I say, I never liked him. I suspecta loop somewhere."
"What are Logan and Thwaite like?" Lewis asked.
"Easy-going, good fellows. Believe in God and the British Government,and the inherent goodness of man. I am rather the other way, so theycall me a cynic and an alarmist."
"But what do you fear?" said George. "The place is well garrisoned."
"I fear four inches in that map of unknown country," said Gribtonshortly. "The people up there call it a 'God-given rock-wall,' and ofcourse there is no force to speak of just near it. But a tribe ofdevils incarnate, who call themselves the Bada-Mawidi, live on itsskirts, and there must be a road through it. It isn't the caravanroute, which goes much farther east and is plain enough. But I knowenough of the place to know that every man who comes over the frontierto Bardur does not come by the high-road."
"But what could happen? Surely Bardur is strongly garrisoned enough toblock any secret raid."
"It isn't bad in its way, if the people were not so slack and easy.They might rise to scratch, but, on the other hand, they might not, andonce past Bardur you have the open road to India, if you march quickenough."
"Then you have no man sufficiently adventurous there to do a littleexploring?"
"None. They care only about shooting, and there happens to be little inthose rocks. Besides, they trust in God and the Government of India. Ididn't, so I became unpopular, and was voted a bore. But the work iswaiting for you young men."
Gribton rose, yawned, and stretched himself. "Shall I tell you anymore?"
"I don't think so," said Lewis, smiling; "I fancy I understand, and I amsure we are obliged to you. Hadn't we better have a game?"
They went to the billiard-room and played two games of a hundred up,both of which George, who had the idler's knack in such matters, wonwith ease. Gribton played so well that he became excessivelygood-humoured.
"I almost wish I was going out again if I had you two as company. Wedon't get the right sort out there. Our globe-trotters all want to showtheir cleverness, or else they are merely fools. You will find itmiserably dull. Nothing but bad claret and cheap champagne at theclubs, a cliquey set of English residents, and the sort of stock sportof which you tire in a month. That's what you may expect our frontiertowns to be like."
"And the neighbourhood?" said Lewis, with lifted eyebrows.
"Oh, the neighbourhood is wonderful enough; but our people there are tooslack and stale to take advantage of it. It is a peaceful frontier, youknow, and men get into a rut as easily there as elsewhere. Thecountry's too fat and wealthy, and people begin to forget the skeletonup among the rocks in the north."
"What are the garrisons like?"
"Good people, but far too few for a serious row, and just sufficientlylarge to have time hang on their hands. Our friends the Bada-Mawidi nowand then wake them up. I see from the _Temps_ that a great stirring ofthe tribes in the Southern Pamirs is reported. I expect that news cameoverland through Russia. It's the sort of canard these gentry arealways getting up to justify a massing of troops on the Amu Daria inorder that some new governor may show his strategic skill. I daresayyou may find things a little livelier than I found them."
As they went towards the Faubourg St. Honore a bitter Parisnorth-easter had begun to drift a fine powdered snow in their eyes.Gribton shivered and turned up the collar of his fur coat. "Ugh, Ican't stand this. It makes me sick to be back. Thank your stars thatyou are going to the sun and heat, and out of this hideous greyweather."
They left him at the Embassy, and turned back to their hotel.
"He's a useful man," said Lewis, "he has given us a cue; life will bepretty well varied out there for you and me, I fancy."
Then, as they entered a boulevard, and the real sweep of the wind mettheir faces, both men fell strangely silent. To George it was the lastword of the north which they were leaving, and his recent home-sicknesscame back and silenced him. But to Lewis, his mind already busy withhis errand, this sting of wind was the harsh disturber which carried himback to a lonely home in a cold, upland valley. It was the wintryweather which was his own, and Alice's face, framed in a cloak, as hehad seen it at the Broken Bridge, rose in the gallery of his heart. Ina moment he was disillusioned. Success, enterprise, new lands and facesseemed the most dismal vexation of spirit. With a very bitter heart hewalked home, and, after the fashion of his silent kind, gave no sign ofhis mood save by a premature and unreasonable retirement to bed.