Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Love stories; Nobility -- Fiction
It was finally decided, after a rather subdued discussion, that Mr.
Saunders should proceed to the bank and rout out the dilatory
representative of the British Government. Saunders looked down the
sullen line of faces, and blanched to his toes. He hemmed and hawed and
said something about his mother, which was wholly lost upon the barren
waste that temporarily stood for a heart in Lord Deppingham's torso.
"Tell him we'll wait here for him," pursued his lordship. "But remind
him, damn him, that it's inexpressibly hot down here in the sun."
They stood and watched the miserable Saunders tread gingerly up the
filthy street, his knees crooking outwardly from time to time, his toes
always touching the ground first, very much as if he were contemplating
an instantaneous sprint in any direction but the one he was taking. Even
the placid Deppingham was somewhat disturbed by the significant glances
that followed their emissary as he passed by each separate knot of
natives. He was distinctly dismayed when a dozen or more of the
dark-faced watchers wandered slowly off after Mr. Saunders. It was
clearly observed that Mr. Saunders stepped more nimbly after he became
aware of this fact.
"I do hope Mr. Saunders will come back alive," murmured Bromley, her
ladyship's maid. The others started, for she had voiced the general
thought.
"He won't come back at all, Bromley, unless he comes back alive," said
his lordship with a smile. It was a well-known fact that he never smiled
except when his mind was troubled.
"Goodness, Deppy," said his wife, recognising the symptom, "do you
really think there is danger?"
"My dear Aggy, who said there was any danger?" he exclaimed, and quickly
looked out to sea. "I rather think we'll enjoy it here," he added after
a moment's pause, in which he saw that the steamer was getting under
way. The Japat company's tug was returning to the pier. Lord Deppingham
sighed and then drew forth his cigarette case. "There!" he went on,
peering intently up the street. "Saunders is gone."
"Gone?" half shrieked her ladyship.
"Into the bank," he added, scratching a match.
"Deppy," she said after a moment, "I hope I was not too hard on the poor
fellow."
"Perhaps you won't be so nervous if you sit down and look at the sea,"
he said gently, and she immediately knew that he suggested it because he
expected a tragedy in the opposite direction. She dropped Pong without
another word, and, her face quite serious, seated herself upon the big
trunk which he selected. He sat down beside her, and together they
watched the long line of smoke far out at sea.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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