Читать книгу Peace with Honour - Sydney C. Grier - Страница 9

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“The King of all Kings, the Upholder of the Universe, places this hovel at the disposal of his high eminence the Queen of England’s Envoy, and entreats that he will deign to use it as his own,” said the sleek official who had been deputed to meet the travellers and bring them into the town, as he paused opposite the doorway of a large house and indicated with extended hand that the end of the journey had been reached.

“In other words, this imposing building is to be our residence for the present,” said Sir Dugald, riding into the courtyard and turning round. “Allow me to welcome you to Kubbet-ul-Haj, ladies.”

“It is not as good as Baghdad,” said Lady Haigh, looking round disparagingly on the whitewashed walls; “but I daresay we shall be very comfortable. After all, it won’t be for long.”

“Express my thanks to the King,” said Sir Dugald pointedly to the messenger, “and tell him that the pleasantness of our quarters will make us anxious to prolong our stay in his city.”

The official, well-pleased, stayed only to point out the entrance to the second courtyard of which the house boasted, and to intimate that if the accommodation provided should prove to be too limited, another house could easily be secured, and then took his departure; while the new arrivals passed under an archway into the inner court, to find facing them the chief rooms of the establishment. These were evidently intended as Sir Dugald’s quarters, and Lady Haigh surveyed them with high approval.

“Come!” she said. “We shall not be so badly off after all. I was beginning to be afraid we should be as much crowded as you were at Agra in the Mutiny, Dugald. I think the rooms on that side will do nicely for you, Georgie.”

“I don’t know whether you will all be able to find quarters in the first block of buildings, gentlemen,” said Sir Dugald to his staff when he had helped his wife and Georgia to dismount, and they had gone indoors to explore. “I must have Mr Kustendjian there, for he may be wanted at any moment, and I doubt whether that will leave you rooms enough.”

“If any one has to seek quarters outside, I hope I may be the favoured man,” said Dr Headlam. “Judging by the sights I saw as we came through the streets, and the cries for medicine which were addressed to me, there is an enormous amount of disease here, and I shall have my hands pretty full if I begin to try any outside practice. I think I am justified in believing that you would approve of such a course, Sir Dugald? It could only make the Mission more popular.”

“By all means, if you wish it; but don’t wear yourself out with doctoring all Kubbet-ul-Haj, and forget that you came here as surgeon to the Mission. You think you will do better if you are lodged outside?”

“Well, I didn’t quite like the idea of bringing all the filth and rascality of Kubbet-ul-Haj into the Mission headquarters, but that would remove the objection. I think it would be both safer and more agreeable for all of us if you would allow me to camp in some other house.”

“Then perhaps you could take that collection of yours over to your new quarters as well as your other belongings? It is not altogether the most delightful of objects.”

“Either as to sight or smell,” put in Dick North. “Those beasts you have preserved in spirits are enough to give a man the horrors, doctor.”

“Oh, our much-maligned masterpieces shall share my quarters, by all means,” said the doctor. “If Miss Keeling breaks her heart over parting with the collection, don’t blame me.”

“Miss Keeling will probably bear the loss with equanimity,” said Sir Dugald. “Natural history collections are not exactly ladies’ toys. At any rate, if she is uneasy about the state of her pet specimens you can bring her bulletins respecting them at meal-times. We shall see you as usual at tiffin and at dinner, I suppose, doctor? And you know that Lady Haigh is always glad to welcome you at tea.”

“I shall certainly not decline such an invitation in favour of solitary meals hastily partaken of amongst the specimens,” said Dr Headlam.

“Then we may consider that settled,” said Sir Dugald. “I think we may regard ourselves as fairly fortunate in our quarters here. What is your opinion, Stratford?”

“I think the place is very well adapted for our business, certainly,” returned Stratford. “The general public will only be admitted to the outer court, I suppose?”

“Yes; the large room on the ground-floor of your quarters will serve as our durbar-hall,” said Sir Dugald, “and the attendants of the Ethiopian officials can remain on the verandah. This inner court must be sacred to the ladies, so that they may go about unveiled. No Ethiopian can be allowed to cross the threshold without an invitation, and only those must be invited who know something of English usages and will not be shocked by what they see. The raised verandah before the house will no doubt serve as a drawing-room. What do you think of the place, North?”

“Good position for defence,” said Dick, meditatively. “You hold the outer court as long as you can, and then fall back upon the first block of buildings. When that becomes untenable, you blow it up and retire upon the second block.”

“Until you have to blow that up too, and yourself with it, I suppose?” said Sir Dugald. “For the ladies’ sake, I must say I hope we shall not have to put the defensive capabilities of the house to such a severe test. Well, gentlemen, we shall meet at dinner. No doubt you will like to get your things settled a little. Your own servants will be able to find quarters in your block, but the rest must occupy the buildings round the outer court.”

When Sir Dugald had thus declared his will the party separated, the staff proceeding to their quarters in Bachelors’ Buildings, as the first block was unanimously named, and allotting the rooms among themselves on the principle of seniority; while the doctor went house-hunting with the aid of a minor official who had been left in the outer court to give any help or information that might be needed. Under his auspices a much smaller house, only separated from the headquarters of the Mission by a narrow street, was secured, and hither Dr Headlam removed with his servants and the famous collection. When the members of the Mission met at dinner they had shaken down fairly well in their several abodes, and after a little inevitable grumbling over accustomed luxuries which were here unattainable, they displayed a disposition to regard the situation with contentment and the rest of mankind with charity. Sir Dugald noted down certain points on which it would be necessary to appeal for assistance to the urbane gentleman who had instituted the party into their habitation, while Lady Haigh promised help in matters which could be set right by feminine intuition and a needle and thread, and peace reigned at headquarters.

It was not until dinner was over and the members of the Mission were partaking of coffee on the terrace, with the lights of the dining-room behind mingling incongruously with the moonlight around them and outshining the twinkling lamps visible here and there in the loftier habitations outside the walls of the house, that an interruption occurred, and the quiet was broken by the entrance of Chanda Lal, Sir Dugald’s bearer, with a visiting-card, which he handed to his master on a tray.

“What’s this, bearer?” asked Sir Dugald, impatiently.

“Highness, the sahib bade me bring it to you.”

“The sahib? Here? In Kubbet-ul-Haj? Who is he? What is he doing here?” Sir Dugald’s brow was darkening ominously.

“Highness, I know not. I said that the burra sahib received no visitors this evening, and the sahib said, ‘Take this to your burra sahib, and tell him that my name is Heekis, and that I wish to see him.’”

“‘Elkanah B. Hicks. “Empire City Crier,”’” read Sir Dugald from the card in his hand in a tone of stupefaction. “In the name of all that is abominable!” he cried, with lively disgust, “it’s a newspaper correspondent, and an American at that, and here before us!”

“I know the name,” said Stratford. “Hicks was the ‘Crier’ correspondent who made himself so prominent over the Thracian business. He was arrested and conducted to the frontier while the second revolution was going on.”

“The very worst kind of busybody!” said Sir Dugald, wrathfully. “I only wish that Drakovics had shot him when he had him safe. What does he mean by poking himself in here?”

“He is in search of marketable ‘copy,’ without a doubt,” said Stratford, “and he is taking the most direct way to get it. He has a fancy for talking and behaving like a sort of semi-civilised Artemus Ward, which takes in a good many people; but he is considered about the smartest man on the ‘Crier’ staff, and that is saying a good deal.”