Lewis stared open-mouthed at George, the irrepressible, in this new
attitude. He, as the hardened traveller, had had little more than a
decent pang of home-sickness. His regret was far deeper and more real
than the sentimental article of commerce, and he could afford to be
almost gay while George sat in the depths.
"I'm coming home, and I'm not happy; you young men are going out, and
you 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 emptying
rapidly, for the Cercle dined early.
"Now for business," said Gribton, when a waiter had brought the game
course, and they sat in the midst of a desert of linen and velvet. "I
have 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 it
geographical? 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 the
popular avenue to polities, I suppose. Leave the 'Varsity very raw,
knock about in an unintelligent way for three or four years on some
frontier, then come home, go into the House, and pose as a specialist in
foreign affairs. I should have thought you had too much humour for
that."
"Only, you see, I have been there before. I am merely going back upon
my tracks to make sure. I go purely as an adventurer, hoping to pick up
some valuable knowledge, but prepared to fail."
Gribton helped himself to champagne. "That's better. Now I know your
attitude, we can talk like friends. Better come to the small
smoking-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 many
minutes ere he settled down. Then, when he could gaze around and see
his two guests in deep armchairs, each smoking and comfortable, he
returned to his business.
"I don't mind telling you a secret," he said, "or rather it's only a
secret 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've
always been held up to ridicule as an alarmist about that Kashmir
frontier, and especially about that Bardur country. Take the whole
province. It's well garrisoned on the north, but below that it is all
empty and open. The way into the Punjab is as clear as daylight for a
swift 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 down
maps? These French ones are very good." He spread a sheet of canvas on
the table, thereby confounding all Gribton's hospitable manoeuvring.
"There," said Gribton, his eyes now free from drowsiness, and clear and
bright, "that's the road I fear."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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