'Only twenty minutes left!' remarked Jack Raymond as silence fell
again; but not for long. The first voice came back--this time to the
shutter--full of reproaches; and the frantic anxiety of the _baboo_ to
keep the conversation within bounds, and prevent anything absolutely
incriminating from cropping up, made one listener smile as he sat
pretending to copy way-bills into a ledger. And when the voice passed
on, and he turned to look, he laughed outright to see the wretched
creature mopping the perspiration off his forehead.
'Had about enough?' he began, then paused, for an imperative 'kling
kling' rang out from the electric bell.
'Asking if the line is clear,' said Lesley from her post, and Jack
Raymond rose and stretched himself.
'Then that's over! The train has reached Bahâna, and we can
go--and--and face the rest!' He held out his hand to help her to rise.
Face it! Could she? She hesitated, and at that moment a step sounded
outside, rapid, with a clink in it--the clink of spurs!
'Here, _baboo!_' said a guttural Northern voice. 'This for
dispatch--_be-rung_ (bearing) _Sirkâri_. Take it, fool--I have no time
to lose--and give receipt!'
There was a pause, then the clink of spurs passed again, and Jack
Raymond, who had slipped into his chair, crossed to the desk, looked
over the _baboo's_ shoulder at the telegram, which was in cipher, and
turned to Lesley smiling.
'Perhaps we shan't have to face it after all! They are sending to
Fareedabad off their own bat. Well! better late than never!' There was
a ring of bitterness in his voice.
'You mean----' began Lesley, who had crossed too, and now stood looking
down at the official signature below the cipher with a half
comprehension.
'That they will be a bit surprised when the troops turn up at nine; but
stay! we can dodge them a bit! _Baboo!_ what time was this telegram
given in?'
The baboo glanced at the clock. 'A quarter to eight, sir.'
'Nothing of the kind!' contradicted Jack Raymond in a tone of voice
which turned his hearer grey-green once more; 'it came in at--let me
see, what is the latest I can give it?--twenty minutes to seven. Fill
that in, _baboo_, and file it--not there, you fool!--below the other
one--_that_ didn't come in till half-past! You won't forget these
facts, will you? If you don't, I--I won't remember that you made a
_mistake in telegraphing_ at first. Do you understand? Now, Miss
Drummond, you should have just time to get home and dress for dinner.'
After he had pushed away the table and unlocked the door, she followed
him out into the still almost-deserted station without a word. A lamp
or two had been lit; at the farther end a group of coolies lounged;
closer in, a light showed from an office.
'I'll bring the cycles,' said Jack Raymond, and she passed out from the
semi-darkness and shadow into the clear dusk beyond, and stood waiting,
full of a vague amazement at herself and all things.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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