Star of India, Alice Perrin [best ereader for manga .txt] 📗

her ear caught the echo of self-control in his voice as he answered: "You are very kind—and of course if my man can be of the slightest use——"

"Very well then, that's settled." Robert attacked the eatables, talking the while of rain and crops and the uncertainty of the outlook. "Unless things improve pretty soon there is a difficult time ahead," he predicted.

And Stella repeated the foreboding in her heart, though from a very different standpoint.

Tennis, after all, proved impossible. The courts were a swamp, and as Robert clamoured for exercise the three set off eventually for a late and, to Stella, a tedious ride. She was too troubled even to find pleasure in the after-effect of the rain upon the scenery, though she could not but observe the wondrous vermilion and purple of the sky, the great clouds massed on the horizon like some angry army awaiting the word to press forward, or to retire; the colour reflections on the long streaks of water that still lay upon the earth's hard surface; the rows of birds gathered on the edges of the miniature lakes, suggesting, in the distance, broken borders of white stones. The trees were washed of their drab veiling of dust, and foliage shone in the light of the sinking sun; an odour of earth refreshed rose in the thick, hot air.... But the mighty magnificence above,[Pg 148] the glow flung over the flat, interminable landscape, served but to increase her sense of helpless despondence.

There seemed so little hope of safe conference with Philip, and, though the strain of his presence held for her as much happiness as fear, it was imperative that some plan of separation should be devised unless they were to embark on a course of intrigue and deception that, even apart from any question of conscience, must involve risk of disaster.... Bewildered, unbalanced, as she rode between her husband and the man she loved, she felt that her life was broken and stained already.

Next day the two men were out in the district on duty from morning to evening. Stella passed the period of their absence in a state bordering on stupefaction; each hour that went by, devoid of an opportunity for clear understanding with Philip, seemed to widen the zone of danger. That night as she dressed for dinner the reflection of her face in the mirror appalled her—what a scarecrow, how white and haggard and hideous! Limp though she felt from the moist heat, oppressed as she was with her tribulation of mind, she made a brave effort to amend her appearance—rearranged her hair, bade Champa get out a becoming pink frock, stockings and shoes to go with it, opened her jewel-box, meaning to wear her pearl necklace....

The pearl necklace was not in its case. At first unperturbed Stella searched among her trinkets, only gradually to realise that the necklace was undoubtedly gone. Champa when questioned of course knew[Pg 149] nothing about it, she might almost have been unaware that her mistress possessed any jewels at all! Then she suggested that the memsahib might have lost the necklace out riding, and in response to Stella's derisive rejection of such an absurd idea she dissolved into tears, protesting that she, at least, was no thief, however wicked the rest of the servant-people might be.

"Go and tell the Sahib I wish to speak to him," commanded Stella severely; it was not that she suspected Champa for one moment of having stolen the necklace, but the woman's cowardly attitude incensed her. She understood nothing of the prevalent fear among native servants of false accusation contrived by some colleague intent upon personal purpose, whether vengeful or in the hope of advancement, no matter at whose expense. Champa sidled muttering from the room, and presently Robert came in half dressed. His face shone with perspiration, his neck, minus a collar, reminded his wife of a chunk of raw meat, and suddenly she felt indifferent as to whether the necklace he had given her was lost irretrievably or not; she wished she had not summoned him.

"What's the matter, you're not ill?" he inquired.

"My pearl necklace has gone," she said, much as she might have announced the disappearance of some trivial article.

"Good God!" Robert pounced upon the jewel-box, turning the contents over with ruthless hands.

"It's not there," Stella told him.

[Pg 150]

"Then where the devil is it? When did you wear it last?"

"I can't remember."

"Nonsense! You often wear it in the daytime as well as in the evening—you must have missed it before now, if it had been gone any time. It's worth hundreds. Where have you looked? It may be among your clothes——"

"I always put it back in the case. I haven't looked anywhere else."

"Good Heavens, then do so at once! Where's the ayah, what has she got to say?"

"She doesn't know any more than I do what has happened to it. I suppose I ought to have kept the box locked."

"And if you had you'd have left the key lying about. You're so infernally careless."

Robert raved and stormed, while Stella and Champa ransacked drawers and wardrobes without result. The necklace was not forthcoming. Dinner was postponed, every servant in the establishment was called up, and the whole staff was threatened with dismissal, imprisonment, punishment, unless the pearls were produced.

[Pg 151]

CHAPTER XIII

The disappearance of the pearls caused general commotion throughout the Commissioner's establishment. Perforce the police were called in to make investigations, and Mr. Piggott being absent from the station on duty, the chief native subordinate took command of the compound and set up a species of martial law. The servants, in terror of secret extortion under threat of false proof or suspicion, seemed to lose their wits, and either blundered idiotically over their duties or forgot them altogether. Champa collapsed, distraught with agitation, and refused to stir from her quarters.

Robert talked of little else but the loss.

"Such a thing has never happened before in my household," he kept repeating, as they sat at an uncomfortable meal next midday. "You are perfectly certain, Stella, that you haven't mislaid the necklace or dropped it anywhere?"

And each time he asked the question Stella replied wearily, "I am perfectly certain," until she felt tempted at last to declare that she had thrown away the pearls of deliberate intention. Her nerves were on edge, and she found it hard to control her temper. Mercifully, breakfast was now practically over.

"What about that man of yours, Flint? How long have you had him?"

"Five years, and he's certainly not the thief, if[Pg 152] that's what you mean. He's a respectable, simple-minded old fellow with a long record of good service to his credit."

Robert grunted incredulously and lit a cheroot. "That ayah knows something," he suggested to his wife, "or why hasn't she turned up this morning?"

"She's ill," said Stella, "ill with fright, I should think."

"A guilty conscience more likely."

"I'm quite sure she had nothing to do with it."

Annoying as Champa had been, Stella was convinced of the woman's honesty.

"How can you be sure? Don't talk nonsense."

"Well, wasn't she engaged by Sher Singh?" She felt she had scored, and emboldened by the advantage, added recklessly: "If it comes to that, I would sooner believe that Sher Singh——"

"Sher Singh," interrupted Robert angrily. "On the contrary, if he had been here the thing wouldn't have happened. Some rascal took the opportunity of his absence."

"Then, unless it was all prearranged, the thief must have acted pretty promptly," argued Stella, who had arrived at a pitch of provocation that rendered her indifferent to Robert's displeasure. "Perhaps the telegram was bogus?" she continued ironically; "sent to lure the unsuspecting Sher Singh from his post." And with an effort she quelled a ridiculous impulse to add that possibly Sher Singh had borrowed the necklace in order that some member of his family might wear it at the relative's funeral. She came dangerously near to laughter in picturing[Pg 153] the scene that such a suggestion would evoke. As it was, her sly attack on the good name of Sher Singh led to mixed consequences.

Robert rose impatiently. "Sher Singh must come back. If a wire goes at once he ought to be here to-night."

Stella repented her imprudence; on the other hand, as Robert strode from the room to fulfil his intention, there was comfort in the fact that at last she and Philip were safely alone for a space. The table servants, at work in the pantry, were well out of hearing; the punkah coolie at his post could not see them.

Philip said breathlessly: "Stella, what are we to do?"

The moments were precious; she answered with haste, though her voice was calm. "One of us must go away. It's the only thing to do. Sher Singh——"

"What has Sher Singh to do with it?"

"He knows, he has been watching us. He would do anything to harm me. Anyway, we couldn't go on like this——"

"It's all my fault," he said wretchedly. "What a selfish beast I have been. I ought to have held my tongue."

"What difference would it have made? We both knew!"

He was amazed at her fortitude. No longer was she the helpless, unhappy child weighed down by relentless fate, but a woman determined to grapple with the future. The Carrington spirit of pluck and endurance still lived in the last of the line.

[Pg 154]

A little cloud of masculine grievance gathered in his mind, rose between them. His was the blame for the whole situation, and he was prepared to sacrifice all for her sake, to take her away that they might live for themselves alone. Since his outburst on the balcony wild schemes had invaded his brain, though as yet, without practical plan; now it chafed him to feel that she might not be ready to follow his lead in joyful appreciation of his purpose. The realisation fanned his passion, strong as it was already.

"Are you thinking of yourself or of me?" he asked bitterly.

"Oh, how can you!" she cried, pained beyond further expression of reproach; yet she understood that his cruelty arose from the very strength of his feelings, and while with feminine instinct she divined his love-selfishness she cared for him none the less.

"Look here," she said firmly, "I belong to Robert. You belong to India. And we've both got to remember——"

"Oh, I know what you're going to say—remember our duty. Duty be damned," he retorted, beside himself. "You can't love me as I love you or you wouldn't talk like this. What do I matter to India?—I'm only a fly on the wheel. What do you matter to Crayfield, any more than if you were—well, a pearl necklace, for instance!"

"I know my value to Robert exactly," she told him with a wry little smile; "but I married him for what he could give me, and he has given it. I don't agree with you as to your value to India. India depends[Pg 155] on men like you; and if you are flies on the wheel, the wheel wouldn't go round without you."

It was true, and he knew it. All the same, he felt that Stella meant more to him now than his duty to India and all his ambition.

"We belong to each other, and to no one and nothing else," he maintained doggedly. "You can't go on living with one man when you know you love another. It's not right."

"Perhaps not, from one point of view, but I don't take that view. We can't think of ourselves. I shall ask Robert to let me go to the Cuthells, even if I have to pretend to be ill. If he won't let me go, then you must apply for leave, or get away somehow from Rassih."

"Stella, are you made of stone?" He drew his chair nearer to hers, laid his hand on her arm, rejoiced as he felt how her pulses responded to his touch. "Think what the separation would mean. We could go to England," he urged. "I would work for you, slave for you, darling."

"And that would mean your giving up India?"

"Not necessarily. I can take leave on urgent private affairs for six months. Furlough is due to me, too, but that takes time to arrange. I could get it tacked on afterwards, and then—then we could be married and come out together. It would all have blown over."

But even as he spoke there came visions, strive as he would to ignore them, of obscure little stations, promotion tardy, other men passing over his head for the rest of his service.

[Pg 156]

"And suppose Robert wouldn't—supposing we couldn't be married?"

This possibility had not entered his mind. He hesitated, then added quickly: "He couldn't be such a brute! If he was, I'd retire; we would live quietly somewhere out of the