English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
Late in the year there developed itself a battle-royal between the
K.P.B. and B. Department and the Almirah and Thannicutch. Three columns
of this paper would be needed to supply you with the outlines of the
difficulty; and then you would not be grateful. Hatchett snuffed the
fray from afar and went into it with his teeth bared to the gums, while
his Department stood behind him solid to a man. They believed in him,
and their answer to the fury of men who detested him was: "Ah! But
you'll admit he's d----d right in what he says."
"The head of Trewinnard in a Government Resolution," said Hatchett,
and he told the _daftri_ to put a new pad on his blotter, and smiled
a bleak smile as he spread out his notes. Hatchett is a Thug in his
systematic way of butchering a man's reputation.
"What are you going to do?" asked Trewinnard's Department. "Sit tight,"
said Trewinnard, which was tantamount to saying "Lord knows." The
Department groaned and said: "Which of us poor beggars is to be Jonahed
_this_ time?" They knew Trewinnard's vice.
The dispute was essentially not one for the K.P.B. and B. under its
then direction to fight out. It should have been compromised, or at the
worst sent up to the Supreme Government with a private and confidential
note directing justice into the proper paths.
Some people say that the Supreme Government is the Devil. It is more
like the Deep Sea. Anything that you throw into it disappears for
weeks, and comes to light hacked and furred at the edges, crusted with
weeds and shells and almost unrecognisable. The bold man who would dare
to give it a file of love-letters would be amply rewarded. It would
overlay them with original comments and marginal notes, and work them
piecemeal into D.O. dockets. Few things, from a setter or a whirlpool
to a sausage-machine or a hatching hen, are more interesting and
peculiar than the Supreme Government.
"What shall we do?" said Trewinnard, who had fallen from grace into
sin. "Fight," said Mrs. Reiver, or words to that effect; and no one
can say how far aimless desire to test her powers, and how far belief
in the man she had brought to her feet prompted the judgment. Of the
merits of the case she knew just as much as any _ayah_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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