65 Short Stories (154 page)

Van Hasseldt and his little party started back for the timber camp, and as soon after as possible Stratton embarked his twenty Sikhs and leaving Alban with his sergeant and his policemen to deal with the situation departed for Port Wallace. Alban gave him a brief report for the Governor. There was much for him to do. It looked as though he would have to stay for a considerable time; but since every house on the estate had been burned to the ground and he was obliged to install himself in the coolie lines he thought it better that Anne should not join him. He sent her a note to that effect. He was glad to be able to reassure her of the safety of poor Prynne’s girl. He set to work at once to make his preliminary inquiry. He examined a host of witnesses. But a week later he received an order to go to Port Wallace at once. The launch that brought it was to take him and he was able to see Anne on the way down for no more than an hour. Alban was a trifle vexed.

‘I don’t know why the Governor can’t leave me to get things straight without dragging me off like this. It’s extremely inconvenient.’

‘Oh, well, the Government never bothers very much about the convenience of its subordinates, does it?’ smiled Anne.

‘It’s just red-tape. I would offer to take you along, darling, only I shan’t stay a minute longer than I need. I want to get my evidence together for the Sessions Court as soon as possible. I think in a country like this it’s very important that justice should be prompt.’

When the launch came in to Port Wallace one of the harbour police told him that the harbour-master had a chit for him. It was from the Governor’s secretary and informed him that His Excellency desired to see him as soon as convenient after his arrival. It was ten in the morning. Alban went to the club, had a bath and shaved, and then in clean ducks, his hair neatly brushed, he called a rickshaw and told the boy to take him to the Governor’s office. He was at once shown in to the secretary’s room. The secretary shook hands with him. ‘I’ll tell H.E. you’re here,’ he said. ‘Won’t you sit down?’

The secretary left the room and in a little while came back.

‘H.E. will see you in a minute. Do you mind if I get on with my letters?’ Alban smiled. The secretary was not exactly come-hither. He waited, smoking a cigarette, and amused himself with his own thoughts. He was making a good job of the preliminary inquiry. It interested him. Then an orderly came in and told Alban that the Governor was ready for him. He rose from his seat and followed him into the Governor’s room.

‘Good morning, Torel.’

‘Good morning, sir.’

The Governor was sitting at a large desk. He nodded to Alban and motioned to him to take a seat. The Governor was all grey. His hair was grey, his face, his eyes; he looked as though the tropical suns had washed the colour out of him; he had been in the country for thirty years and had risen one by one through all the ranks of the Service; he looked tired and depressed. Even his voice was grey. Alban liked him because he was quiet; he did not think him clever, but he had an unrivalled knowledge of the country, and his great experience was a very good substitute for intelligence. He looked at Alban for a full moment without speaking and the odd idea came to Alban that he was embarrassed. He very nearly gave him a lead.

‘I saw Van Hasseldt yesterday,’ said the Governor suddenly.

‘Yes, sir?’

Will you give me your account of the occurrences at the Mud Estate and of the steps you took to deal with them.’

Alban had an orderly mind. He was self-possessed. He marshalled his facts well and was able to state them with precision. He chose his words with care and spoke them fluently.

‘You had a sergeant and eight policemen. Why did you not immediately go to the scene of the disturbance?’

‘I thought the risk was unjustifiable.’

A thin smile was outlined on the Governor’s grey face.

‘If the officers of this Government had hesitated to take unjustifiable risks it would never have become a province of the British Empire.’

Alban was silent. It was difficult to talk to a man who spoke obvious nonsense.

‘I am anxious to hear your reasons for the decision you took.’

Alban gave them coolly. He was quite convinced of the Tightness of his action. He repeated, but more fully, what he had said in the first place to Anne. The Governor listened attentively.

‘Van Hasseldt, with his manager, a Dutch friend of his, and a native overseer, seems to have coped with the situation very efficiently,’ said the Governor.

‘He had a lucky break. That doesn’t prevent him from being a damned fool. It was madness to do what he did.’

‘Do you realize that by leaving a Dutch planter to do what you should have done yourself, you have covered the Government with ridicule?’

‘No, sir.’

‘You’ve made yourself a laughing-stock in the whole colony.’

Alban smiled.

‘My back is broad enough to bear the ridicule of persons to whose opinion I am entirely indifferent.’

‘The utility of a government official depends very largely on his prestige, and I’m afraid his prestige is likely to be inconsiderable when he lies under the stigma of cowardice.’

Alban flushed a little.

‘I don’t quite know what you mean by that, sir.’

‘I’ve gone into the matter very carefully. I’ve seen Captain Stratton, and Oakley, poor Prynne’s assistant, and I’ve seen Van Hasseldt. I’ve listened to your defence.’

‘I didn’t know that I was defending myself, sir.’

‘Be so good as not to interrupt me. I think you committed a grave error of judgement. As it turns out, the risk was very small, but whatever it was, I think you should have taken it. In such matters promptness and firmness are essential. It is not for me to conjecture what motive led you to send for a force of constabulary and do nothing till they came. I am afraid, however, that I consider that your usefulness in the Service is no longer very great.’

Alban looked at him with astonishment.

‘But would you have gone under the circumstances?’ he asked him. ‘I should.’

Alban shrugged his shoulders.

‘Don’t you believe me?’ rapped out the Governor.

‘Of course I believe you, sir. But perhaps you will allow me to say that if you had been killed the colony would have suffered an irreparable loss.’ The Governor drummed on the table with his fingers. He looked out of the window and then looked again at Alban. When he spoke it was not unkindly. ‘I think you are unfitted by temperament for this rather rough-and-tumble life, Torel. If you’ll take my advice you’ll go home. With your abilities I feel sure that you’ll soon find an occupation much better suited to you.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, sir.’

‘Oh, come, Torel, you’re not stupid. I’m trying to make things easy for you. For your wife’s sake as well as for your own I do not wish you to leave the colony with the stigma of being dismissed from the Service for cowardice. I’m giving you the opportunity of resigning.’

‘Thank you very much, sir. I’m not prepared to avail myself of the opportunity. If I resign I admit that I committed an error and that the charge you make against me is justified. I don’t admit it.’

‘You can please yourself I have considered the matter very carefully and I have no doubt about it in my mind. I am forced to discharge you from the Service. The necessary papers will reach you in due course. Meanwhile you will return to your post and hand over to the officer appointed to succeed you on his arrival.’

‘Very good, sir,’ replied Alban, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. ‘When do you desire me to return to my post?’

‘At once.’

‘Have you any objection to my going to the club and having tiffin before I go?’ The Governor looked at him with surprise. His exasperation was mingled with an unwilling admiration.

‘Not at all. I’m sorry, Torel, that this unhappy incident should have deprived the Government of a servant whose zeal has always been so apparent and whose tact, intelligence, and industry seemed to point him out in the future for very high office.’

‘Your Excellency does not read Schiller, I suppose. You are probably not acquainted with his celebrated line: mit 
der 
Dummheit 
kiimpfen die 
GOtter 
selbst vergebens.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘Roughly: Against stupidity the gods themselves battle in vain.’

‘Good morning.’

With his head in the air, a smile on his lips, Alban left the Governor’s office. The Governor was human, and he had the curiosity to ask his secretary later in the day if Alban Torel had really gone to the club.

‘Yes, sir. He had tiffin there.’

‘It must have wanted some nerve.’

Alban entered the club jauntily and joined the group of men standing at the bar. He talked to them in the breezy, cordial tone he always used with them. It was designed to put them at their ease. They had been discussing him ever since Stratton had come back to Port Wallace with his story, sneering at him and laughing at him, and all who had resented his superciliousness, and they were the majority, were triumphant because his pride had had a fall. But they were so taken aback at seeing him now, so confused to find him as confident as ever, that it was they who were embarrassed.

One man, though he knew perfectly, asked him what he was doing in Port Wallace.

‘Oh, I came about the riot on the Mud Estate. H.E. wanted to see me. He does not see eye to eye with me about it. The silly old ass has fired me. I’m going home as soon as he appoints a D.O. to take over.’

There was a moment of awkwardness. One, more kindly disposed than the others, said:

‘I’m awfully sorry.’

Alban shrugged his shoulders.

‘My dear fellow, what can you do with a perfect damned fool? The only thing is to let him stew in his own juice.’

When the Governor’s secretary had told his chief as much of this as he thought discreet, the Governor smiled.

‘Courage is a queer thing. I would rather have shot myself than go to the club just then and face all those fellows.’

A fortnight later, having sold to the incoming D.O. all the decorations that Anne had taken so much trouble about, with the rest of their things in packing-cases and trunks, they arrived at Port Wallace to await the local steamer that was to take them to Singapore. The padre’s wife invited them to stay with her, but Anne refused; she insisted that they should go to the hotel. An hour after their arrival she received a very kind little letter from the Governor’s wife asking her to go and have tea with her. She went. She found Mrs Hannay alone, but in a minute the Governor joined them. He expressed his regret that she was leaving and told her how sorry he was for the cause.

‘It’s very kind of you to say that,’ said Anne, smiling gaily, ‘but you mustn’t think I take it to heart. I’m entirely on Alban’s side. I think what he did was absolutely right and if you don’t mind my saying so I think you’ve treated him most unjustly.’

‘Believe me, I hated having to take the step I took.’

‘Don’t let’s talk about it,’ said Anne.

‘What are your plans when you get home? asked Mrs Hannay.

Anne began to chat brightly. You would have thought she had not a care in the world. She seemed in great spirits at going home. She was jolly and amusing and made little jokes. When she took leave of the Governor and his wife she thanked them for all their kindness. The Governor escorted her to the door.

The next day but one, after dinner, they went on board the clean and comfortable little ship. The padre and his wife saw them off. When they went into their cabin they found a large parcel on Anne’s bunk. It was addressed to Alban. He opened it and saw that it was an immense powder-puff

‘Hullo, I wonder who sent us this,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘It must be for you, darling.’

Anne gave him a quick look. She went pale. The brutes! How could they be so cruel? She forced herself to smile.

‘It’s enormous, isn’t it? I’ve never seen such a large powder-puffin my life.’ But when he had left the cabin and they were out at sea, she threw it passionately overboard.

And now, now that they were back in London and Sondurah was nine thousand miles away, she clenched her hands as she thought of it. Somehow, it seemed the worst thing of all. It was so wantonly unkind to send that absurd object to Alban, Powder-Puff Percy; it showed such a petty spite. Was that their idea of humour? Nothing had hurt her more and even now she felt that it was only by holding on to herself that she could prevent herself from crying. Suddenly she started, for the door opened and Alban came in. She was still sitting in the chair in which he had left her.

‘Hullo, why haven’t you dressed?’ He looked about the room. ‘You haven’t unpacked.’

‘No.’

‘Why on earth not?’

‘I’m not going to unpack. I’m not going to stay here. I’m leaving you.’