A Fascinating Traitor: An Anglo-Indian Story — John Shaqi
A Fascinating Traitor: An Anglo-Indian StorySavage, Richard
General
A Fascinating Traitor: An Anglo-Indian Story
Savage, Richard
India -- Fiction
He had crossed over the Pont de Montblanc to the British Consulate, only
to learn that the very man whom he had come from Monaco to seek, was now
already at Aix la Chapelle, on his way to America, on a long leave.
He had wearily made a tour of the principal hotels and scanned the
registers with no lucky find! Not a single gleam of hope shone out in
all the polyglot inscriptions passing under his eye! And so he had
sadly betaken himself to a safe, retired place, where he could hold the
aforesaid council of war.
The practical part of the operations of this sole committee of ways
and means, was an exhaustive examination of his depleted pockets. A
few sovereigns and a single crisp twenty-pound Bank of England note
constituted the rear guard of Alan Hawke’s vanished “sinews of war.” The
young man briefly noted the slender store, with a sigh.
“Twenty-five pounds--and a little trumpery jewelry--I can’t ever get
back to India on that!” He seemed to hear again the rasping voice of the
vulpine caller at Monte Carlo: “Messieurs! Faites vos jeux! Rien ne va
plus! Le jeu est fait!” And, if a dismal failure in Lender had been his
Leipsic, the black week at Monaco had been his long drawn-out Waterloo!
“I was a rank fool to go there,” he growled, “and a greater fool to come
over here! I might have got on easily to Malta, and then chanced it from
there to Calcutta!”
The sun’s last lances glittered on the waters gleaming clear as crystal,
with their deep blue tint of reflected sky, and liquid sapphire! The
gardens were becoming deserted as the loungers dropped off homeward one
by one, and still the handsome young fellow sat moodily gazing down into
the rushing waters of the arrowy Rhone, as if he fain would cast the
dark burden of his dreary thoughts far away from him down into those
darkling waters. But thirty-two years of age, Alan Hawke had already
outlived all his wild boyish romances. The thrill with which he had
first set foot upon the land of Clive and Warren Hastings had faded away
long years gone! And, Fate had stranded him at Geneva!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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