|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 26
"Oh, I don't know!" Yorke coughed and spat drearily. "Kind of rum
reason, you'll think. Long story--too long--dates back. Listen then!
Ten years back, in the pride of my giddy youth, I held a Junior Sub's
commission in the ---- Lancers--in India. This is just a synopsis of
my case, mind! . . . Well! the regiment was lying at Rawal Pindi, and--I
guess I kind of ran amuck there--got myself into a rotten
_esclandre_--entirely my own fault I'll admit:
_Man is fire, and Woman is tow,
And the Devil, he comes and begins to blow--_
the same old miserable business the world's fed up with. Since then
seems I've kind of made a mess of things. Burke Slavin's about
right--his estimate of me." He sighed with bitter, gloomy retrospection.
"I've always had a queer, intolerant sort of temperament. If I'd lived
in the days of the Indian Mutiny I guess I'd have been in 'Hodson's
Horse'." (Redmond started, remembering his curious dream.) "He was a
man after my own heart," Yorke continued slowly, "resourceful, slashing
sort of beggar . . . he ruffled it with a high hand. Bold and game as
Sherman, or Paul Jones, but as ruthless as Graham of Claverhouse. He put
the ever-lasting fear into the rebels of Oude--something like Cromwell
did in Ireland. My old Governor served through the Mutiny--he's told me
stories of him. My God!"
He drew his fur coat closer round him. "Well!"--Redmond watched the
sombre profile--"as I was saying . . . I 'muckered'. . . . Since then,
with the years, I guess I've been climbing down the ladder of illusions
till I'm right in the stoke-hole, and Old Nick seems to grin and whisper:
'As you were! my cashiered Sub.--As you were!' every time I chuck a brace
and try to climb up again. How's that for a bit of cheap cynicism?"--the
low, bitter laugh was not good to hear--"Man!"--the brooding eyes
narrowed--"I've sure plumbed the depths--knocking around, with the right
to live. Port Said, Buenos Aires, Shanghai. . . . I've certainly
travelled. Some day I'll throw the book at you. Now--substance and
ambition gone by the board long ago, and mighty little left of principle
I guess--I am--what I am--everything except a prodigal, or a
remittance-man--I never worried them at Home--that way. . . ."
He spoke with a sort of reckless earnestness that moved his hearer more
than that individual cared to show. Redmond felt it was useless to offer
mere conventional sympathy in a case like this. He did the next best
thing possible--he remained silently attentive and let the other run on.
"You take three men now--stationed in the same detachment," resumed Yorke
wearily, "by gum! they're thrown together mighty close when you come to
think of it. It's different to the Post, where there's a crowd. Life's
too short to start in explaining minutely just what that difference is.
Fact remains! . . . to get along and pull together they've got to like
each other--have something in common--give and take. Otherwise the
situation becomes d----d trying, and trouble soon starts in the family."
"By what divine right I should consider myself qualified to--to--Oh! shut
up, you young idiot! . . ." Redmond, forehead pressed into the speaker's
shoulder, giggled hysterically in spite of himself--"Shut up! d'you hear?
or I'll knock your silly block off!"
The two bodies shook, with their convulsive merriment. "You can't do it!
old thing," came George's smothered rejoinder, "and you know darned well
you can't--now! . . . Go on, you bloomin' Hodson!--proceed!"
Yorke gave vent to a good-natured oath. "Hodson? . . . you do me proud,
my buck! . . . Well now!--this 'three men in a boat' business! . . .
I'll admit I 'rocked' it with Crampton. I virtually abolished him
because--oh! I couldn't stick the beggar at all. I simply couldn't make
a pal of him. He was fairly good at police work, but a proper cad, in my
opinion. Always swanking about the palatial residence he'd left behind
in the Old Country. He called it ''is 'ome' at that. Typical specimen
of the middle-class snob. Followed Taylor. Thick-headed, serious-minded
sort of fool. Had great veneration for 'his juty.' No real knowledge of
the Criminal Code, and minus common sense, yet begad! the silly beggar
tried to be more regimental that the blooming Force is itself. I
systematically put the wind up to him 'till he got cold feet and quit."
Redmond recalled the fact that Taylor had been his predecessor.
"Followed!" he echoed mockingly, looking up at his handiwork.
Yorke, with a twisted smile glanced down at the bruised, but debonair
young face. Benevolently he punched its owner in the back.
"Followed . . . a certain young fellow, yclept 'Nemesis'," he said, "I
sized you up for one of these smart Alecks--first crack out of the box,
and egad! I think I'm about right."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|