Ричард Марш
Amusement Only

When the meeting broke up Madge came and said a few words to me alone.

"I really think you had better not stay."

"Does that mean that you had rather I went?"

"No; not exactly that."

"Then nearly that?"

"No; not a bit that. Only you must see for yourself how awfully uncomfortable you'll be here, and what a horrid house this is."

"My dear Madge" – everybody called her Madge, so I did-"even if I wanted to go, which I don't-and I would remind you that you contracted to give me an old-fashioned Christmas-I don't see where there is that I could go."

"Of course, there's that. I don't see, either. So I suppose you'll have to stay. But I hope you won't think that I meant you to come to a place like this-really, you know."

"I'm sorry; I had hoped you had."

"That's not what I mean. I mean that if I had thought that you were coming, I would have seen that things were different."

"How different? I assure you that things as they are have a charm of their own."

"That's what you say. You don't suppose that I'm so silly as not to know you're laughing at me? But as I was the whole cause of your coming, I hope you won't hate the others because of me."

She marched off, brushing back, with an impatient gesture, some rebellious locks which had strayed upon her forehead.

That Christmas dinner was a success-positively. Of a kind-let that be clearly understood. I am not inferring that it was a success from the point of view of a "chef de cuisine." Not at all; how could it be? Quite the other way. By dint of ransacking all the rooms, and emptying all the scuttles, we collected a certain amount of coal, with which, after adding a fair proportion of wood, we managed. Not brilliantly, but after a fashion. I can only say, personally, I had not enjoyed myself so much for years. I really felt as if I were young again; I am not sure that I am not younger than I thought I was. I must look the matter up. And, after all, even if one be, say forty, one need not be absolutely an ancient. Madge herself said that I had been like a right hand to her; she did not know what she would have done without me.

Looking back, I cannot but think that if we had attempted to prepare fewer dishes, something might have been properly cooked. It was a mistake to stuff the turkey with sage and onions; but as Bessie did not discover that she had been manipulating the wrong bird until the process of stuffing had been completed, it was felt that it might be just as well to let it rest. Unfortunately, it turned out that some thyme, parsley, mint, and other things had got mixed with the sage, which gave the creature quite a peculiar flavour; but as it came to table nearly raw, and as tough as hickory, it really did not matter.

My experience of that day teaches me that it is not easy to roast a large goose on a small oil stove. The dropping fat caused the flame to give out a strong smelling and most unpleasant smoke. Rupert, who had charge of the operation, affirmed that it would be all right in the end. But, by the time the thing was served, it was as black as my hat. Rupert said that it was merely brown; but the brown was of a sooty hue, and it reeked of paraffin. We had to have it deposited in the ashbin. I daresay that the beef would not have been bad if someone had occasionally turned it, and if the fire would have burned clear. As it was, it was charred on one side and raw on the other, and smoked all over. The way in which the odour and taste of smoke permeated everything was amazing. The plum-pudding, came to the table in the form of soup, and the mince pies were nauseous. Something had got into the crust, or mincemeat, or something, which there, at any rate, was out of place.

Luckily we came upon a tin of corned beef in a cupboard, and with the aid of some bread and cheese, and other odds and ends, we made a sort of picnic. Incredible though it may seem, I enjoyed it. If there was anywhere a merrier party than we were, I should like to know where it was to be found. It must have been a merry one. When I produced the presents, in which a happy inspiration had urged me to invest, "the enthusiasm reached a climax" – I believe that is the proper form of words which I ought to use. As I watched the pleasure of those youngsters, I felt as if I were myself a boy again.

* * * * *

That was my first introduction to "a lively family." They came up to the description they had given of themselves. I speak from knowledge, for they have been my acquaintances now some time. More than acquaintances, friends; the dearest friends I have. At their request, I took their affairs in hand, Madge informally passing her trusteeship on to me. Things are very different with them now. The house is spick and span. There is an excellent staff of servants. Hangar Dene is as comfortable a home as there is in England. I have spent many a happy Christmas under its hospitable roof since then.

The boys are out in the world, after passing with honour through school and college. The girls are going out into the world also. Bessie is actually married. Madge is married too. She is Mrs. Christopher. That is the part of it all which I find is hardest to understand-to have told myself my whole life long that the name of my ideal woman would be Madge, and to have won that woman for my own at last! That is greater fortune than falls to the lot of most men. I thought that I was beyond that kind of thing; that I was too old. But Madge seemed to think that I was young enough. And she thinks so still.

And now there is a little Madge, who is big enough to play havoc with the sheets of paper on which I have been scribbling, to whom, one day, this tale will have to be told.

BY DEPUTY. A REMINISCENCE OF TRAVEL

CHAPTER I
DESPOILED

"It would seem, Greenall, as if you couldn't even shoot."

"It would seem like it, wouldn't it."

As I sauntered back to the hotel I was conscious of a slight feeling of exacerbation. As if I had been "got at," "had." No man likes to feel that he is a laughing-stock. I felt that I had been made a laughing-stock just then; that, indeed, the process of manufacture had been going on ever since I showed my face in Ahmednugger. The men I had met were nice enough-in their way. Indeed, they were almost too nice-also in their way. They appeared to have so little to do, in the way of actual work, that they had made it the business of their lives to perfect themselves in what are usually regarded, say, as accomplishments. I was, and am, a plain civilian. I have worked for, and earned, my little pile, such as it is, and until I set out upon that pleasure tour in the East, it had never occurred to me that a man could be regarded as an uneducated idiot if he could not, say, run into double figures every time he took up his cue at billiards. A suspicion that a man might be so regarded had been dawning upon me ever since I arrived in India; but until I came to Ahmednugger I had never quite realised how shockingly my education had been neglected on exactly those points on which it ought to have been most carefully attended to. The men of Ahmednugger were the most sporting individuals I had ever yet encountered. Possibly I have not moved much among the congregations of the sporting men, but I certainly have seen something of men of business. These men of Ahmednugger were not only the keenest sportsmen I had encountered, they were the keenest men of business, too. And talk of the rigour of a competitive examination! They formed themselves into an examining board, which very soon took the "stiffening" out of me. They insisted on putting me through my paces before I had been a week in the place. They examined me in every game of cards which has been invented-and found me wanting in them all. They examined me as a rider, as a driver, as a shootist, as a cueist, in fact, in a range of subjects which I will not even venture to enumerate. They refused me one solitary "pass." They "plucked" me in them all. It did not add to my sense of satisfaction, that I found my ignorance expensive.

The joke of the thing was, that before I came to India I had rather fancied myself as an amateur sportsman. I flattered myself that I had a decent seat in a saddle, whether across country or on the flat. I thought that I made a tolerable fourth at whist; that I had some notion, at any rate, of English billiards, and of a hazard off the red. I certainly was under the impression that I could see with tolerable accuracy along the barrel of a gun. But these vain delusions were scattered, at once and for ever, by the men of Ahmednugger. My all-round, purblind, insensate ignorance had been so convincingly displayed, that, as I have said, I was the laughing-stock of all the place.

My latest performance in the exhibition line had been in a match with young Tebb, the youngest and the latest joined of the subalterns. Young Tebb had lured me on to skittles. Mr. Tebb-who would have been more correctly designated as "Master" Tebb-was an awkward hobbledehoy, who, at any other place than Ahmednugger, I should have looked down upon with the most supreme contempt. When he challenged me to see who could smash most glass balls with a rifle bullet, he or I, I rashly took his challenge up. I flattered myself that, at last, I had a "soft thing" on. I had, myself, been found a "soft thing" so many times, that I looked forward to a little change. I had no notion (it was rather late at night when the challenge was thrown down, and taken up) how difficult it really was to hit a glass ball with a rifle bullet. I had never fired at a glass ball, nor had I ever seen anyone else do so. But I conceived, that at any rate, young Tebb would find at least as much difficulty in the thing as I should.

We were each to fire at fifty glass balls, which were to be sent up into the air out of a trap. We were, of course, to fire at them while they were in the air. Out of my fifty I smashed one. Out of his fifty young Tebb smashed forty-nine. It was the most mirth-provoking exhibition that was ever seen. Of course, the young scoundrel had been doing nothing else but fire at glass balls his whole life long. It was when I handed over the two hundred rupees which I had staked and lost, that Mr. Tebb made his remark to the effect that "I couldn't even shoot."

When I returned to the hotel, a man was standing in the doorway. He addressed me as I came up the steps.

"It strikes me that you and I might shake hands, sir."

I asked him what he meant.

"I've made myself one kind of ass, and you've made yourself another kind. We'd be a pair of beauties."

I did not like being addressed in this manner, especially by a stranger, and especially by a stranger like this stranger. He was a short, undersized man, with a vacuous expression of countenance. His attire suggested seediness. Perceiving that I did not appreciate his manner, he explained.

"No offence intended, sir. But I just now saw you playing pantaloon to that youngster's clown, and I thought that he made the end of the poker rather hot. As for me, I'm an ass all over. My name's Johns. I came to this place to shear the sheep. There's been some shearing, but it's the sheep that's done it. They've about sheared me. I happened to have a trifle of money, so I came to these parts to see if I could do a bit of bookmaking. I've done a bit. The gentlemen in these parts have also done a bit. They've got hold of pretty well every blessed mag I had."

I did not encourage Mr. Johns; quite the contrary. I had heard of him before. The regimental races had recently been held; a bookmaker had appeared upon the scene-Mr. Johns. Nearly every man in the place had had bets with him, and to nearly every man in the place he had lost his money. With a vengeance had the Philistine been spoiled.

CHAPTER II
THE GAME

Later in the day on which I had shot off that match with Mr. Tebb I encountered Mr. Johns again. I was in the billiard-room of what was called "the club." As regards membership, it was very free-and-easy "club" indeed. A local celebrity was taking the floor. The room was tolerably full. On one of the side seats was Mr. Johns.

The local celebrity was a Mr. Colson. Mr. Colson was stud groom to the Rajah of Ahmednugger. He was also, and at the same time, one of the most obnoxious persons I have, in the course of my career, had the pleasure of meeting. There never was such a loud-voiced braggart. It set one's nerves on edge to hear him. To listen to him, there was nothing he could not do. The misfortune was, that some of the things which he said he could do, he could do, and do well. I had found that out to my cost, soon after my arrival in Ahmednugger. And, in consequence, he had sat on me heavily ever since. He was a horrible man.

That evening Mr. Colson was holding forth in his usual style, on the subject of billiards. I should mention that, at the period of which I am writing, Mr. John Roberts, the famous player, was on a tour in India.

"I saw John Roberts at Calcutta," observed Mr. Colson, "and he saw me. He also saw me play. When he saw me play, he said he doubted if he could give me fifteen in a hundred. I told him that I should like to see him do it. But he wouldn't take it on."

"Is that so?" asked Mr. Johns.

"That is so. I should like to see him give me ten in a hundred, either John Roberts or any man now living."

"I should like to have a game with you, Mr. Colson."

"You would?" Mr. Colson looked at Mr. Johns. He looked him up and down. Mr. Colson was large and florid. Mr. Johns was small and underfed. Mr. Colson was, at least, expensively attired. About Mr. John's costume there was certainly no suspicion of expense. "I don't mind having you a hundred up, my lad. How many shall I give you?"

"I am no player, Mr. Colson, but I'd like to play you even, if only for the sake of saying that I'd had the cheek to do it."

"You shall have that pleasure. And how much would you like to have on-if only for the sake of saying that you had the cheek to have it on?"

And Mr. Colson winked at the company in general.

"Well, Mr. Colson, you and the other gentlemen have won all my money; but, I daresay, I might manage ten rupees."

"Put 'em up, my lad. Here's my ten. We'll play for the twenty."

They played for the twenty. And, to my satisfaction, and I believe to the satisfaction of most of the others who were in the room, it was Mr. Johns who won. I am bound to say that it seemed to me to be rather a fluky win. Mr. Colson, whose disgust was amusing, had no doubt whatever about the fluke.

"Never saw anything like it, never! The balls never broke for me, not once! As for you; why, you did nothing else but fluke."

"Do you think so? I'll play you again double or quits, and I'll give ten in the hundred, Mr. Colson."

Mr. Colson seemed amazed. In fact, I have no doubt he was amazed.

"I like your modesty! You'll give me ten! Here's my twenty. I'll take you on."

Mr. Colson took him on. And, by way of fair exchange, Mr. Johns took him off. That is to say, he took off the stakes and the game. He did it rather neatly: just running in as Mr. Colson looked like winning. Mr. Colson was adjectival.

"Never saw anything like it-never, in all my born days! Never saw anything like my somethinged, somethinged, somethinged luck! And as for your fluking-why, it just beats anything."

"Think so? I'll play you again, Mr. Colson, and again double or quits; and this time I'll give you twenty in a hundred."

"You'll give me-you'll give me-twenty in a hundred? You will? Come on! That'll be forty rupees a side-here's mine! Macbee, put me on twenty, and we'll see what I can do."

We did see what he could do. We also saw that Mr. Johns seemed able to do a little better. Once more he won the game. I am sure that we were all enjoying ourselves very much-much more than we had had any reason to anticipate. As for Mr. Colson, he went purple. He showered on Mr. Johns a volley of that sort of language which I had found pretty fashionable at Ahmednugger. Mr. Johns listened to him in silence, while he pocketed the spoils. Then he had his say.

"You say I fluke? Why, my dear sir, you've no idea what a fluke is. You've no idea of any sort about billiards. You can no more play billiards than you can play the gentleman-you can't! You're the sort of person whom it is just as well, once in a way, to expose. You're a humbug, Mr. Colson, you're a humbug. As for John Roberts doubting if he could give you fifteen in a hundred-why, he could give you ninety-nine in a hundred, and beat you single-handed. I tell you what I will do, Mr. Colson. I will play you five hundred up, for five hundred rupees a side. I will give you four hundred start, and I will lay two to one against you with any gentleman who cares to back you. I don't think that's an unfair offer, Mr. Colson."

It struck me as, at any rate, a rash offer. Mr. Colson was not such a tyro as Mr. Johns made out. He had made mincemeat of me-I do know that. Yet the offer did not seem to be made in any spirit of braggadocio. I fancy that the quiet, matter-of-fact manner in which it was made impressed Mr. Colson more than he altogether cared to own. My impression it that, if he had had his own way, he would have changed the subject. But the odds offered him were such, and the challenge was made in such a public manner, that he probably felt that, if he wished to preserve a rag of reputation, now or never was the time to show the stuff that he was made of. Anyhow, the offer was accepted, and the terms of the match were definitely arranged before the parties left the room.

CHAPTER III
THE COALITION

As I was retiring to rest, some one tapped at my bed-room door. In response to my invitation to enter, Mr. Johns came in. Without any preamble, he plunged at once into the purport of his presence in my chamber at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning.

"I have come, Mr. Greenall, to ask you to lend me five hundred rupees."

I turned. I looked at him. He met my glance without showing any signs of discomposure.

"You have come to-what?"

He repeated his remark-quite as though it were a matter of course.

"To ask if you will lend me five hundred rupees."

"I don't know if you are in earnest, Mr. Johns. If you are, I would remark, first, that I am not a money lender; and, second, that you are a complete stranger to me."

"I want the money to stake in my match with Mr. Colson."

"Indeed. Is that so? Then that is an added reason why I should decline to lend it to you. In my opinion, Mr. Johns, your chances of success in that match are, to say the least of it, remote."

"Look here, Mr. Greenall, I'm the last man in the world to wish to make myself offensive, but if we can understand each other I think that you and I might do each other a good turn. I know all about how you've been treated by the fellows here. I know how they've all been taking pop shots at you. From what I hear they've made you look like the biggest all-round muff that ever left his mammy. I daresay it's cost you something, too."

I did not altogether appreciate this gentleman's free-and-easy style of conversation. But to a certain extent I, so to speak, dissembled.

"I do not know what warrant you have, Mr. Johns, for your remarks; and, in any case, I fail to see what business it is of yours."

"It's this way; if you like, you can be even with all the lot of them-and more than even."

"How? By lending you five hundred rupees, and letting you have, as you put it, a pop-shot at me with the rest of them. Thank you, Mr. Johns. By the way, I fancy I have heard of some person or persons taking pop-shots at you. I think I did hear that you came here to make a fortune. Did you make it, Mr. Johns?"

"No, I didn't-hang 'em! I'm like you, I owe them one. And I mean to pay them, with compound interest. And, if you like to say the word, I'll pay them that little lot you owe them too. Look here, Mr. Greenall, I don't mind owning that a keener lot of gentlemen than the gentlemen here I don't think I ever had to do with. I won't say they robbed me, but they certainly cut me up into very nice little pieces, and they handed me round. I've seldom seen any thing of the kind which was better done. But never mind-my turn's coming! I'm not fond of bragging-quite the other way. If it wasn't that I was in a hole, I wouldn't say a word. But it is the simple truth that, at all the things at which these fellows think they're dabsters, I'm as far ahead of them as they're ahead of you, – no offence intended. You can take my word for it that I know what I'm talking about. It doesn't follow because, just once in a way, they happened to muck up my book, that I'm a flat. As for being able to give Colson four hundred out of five hundred at billiards, – if I choose, and I shall choose, he's simply bound to lose. I don't mean to say that I'm a John Roberts, because I'm not. But I do know how to play, and that in a sense which Colson hasn't even begun to understand. I've heard that Mr. Colson hasn't behaved over well to you. I thought that you'd like to see him taken down a peg or two."

I should. I should have liked to have seen more than one of them taken down a peg or two, though I said nothing of that to Mr. Johns.

"How came you to match yourself, Mr. Johns, when you were aware that you were not in possession of the required stakes?"

"I took it for granted that I should get the stakes from you."

Mr. Johns was frank, at any rate.

"From me? What claim did you suppose yourself to have on me?"

"No claim; but you see, sir, they've had me, and they've had you. They've had both of us, in fact, pretty smartly. And I thought that you might like to be even with some of them, by deputy."

By deputy. If it was workable, that was not a bad idea. I felt that I should like to be even with some of them, beginning, say, with Mr. Colson-how that man had squelched me beneath his elephantine foot! the brute! – even, as it were, by deputy.

"What guarantee have I that you will not lose my money, as you already have lost your own?"

"If we get up early, we shall have the billiard room all to ourselves. If you like, I will give you some idea of what I can do upon a billiard table."

We did get up early. We did have the billiard room all to ourselves. And Mr. Johns did give me some idea of what he could do upon a billiard table. For one thing, he got "on the spot," and he stopped there. He continued to put the red down, without once missing, until the marker appeared. When the marker did appear, we thought that perhaps the proceedings had better cease. If I can trust my memory, before the proceedings ceased, Mr. Johns had put the red down something like two hundred times in succession. I thought that was good enough, even for Mr. Colson. I agreed to advance the necessary number of rupees.

The match came off. It was a beautiful match. The room was crowded to overflowing. Mr. Johns had managed to back himself to a very fair amount. Even I, in my small way, had managed to back him too. But there was not so much readiness shown to support the local champion as I had expected. They were keen, were the men of Ahmednugger. I fancy that already they had begun to smell a rat. And not only so; they were always willing to "make a bet." But on that particular occasion they were almost equally willing to see Mr. Colson come to grief. I think that, in those parts, Mr. Colson was not so popular as he deserved to be. I verily believe that there were some who objected to him almost as much as I did.

Poor Mr. Colson! He was painfully nervous. His nervousness prevented his showing even his usual form. He had made fifteen, when Mr. Johns, getting on the spot, stayed there. He ran out without once putting down his cue. Nothing like it had ever been seen before in Ahmednugger. When the marker notified the fact that Mr. Johns had completed his fifth hundred, Mr. Colson was, for a moment, speechless. He seemed unable to realize that the thing was so.

"It's a-something swindle!"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Colson-it's a what?"

Mr. Colson's tone was loud and threatening. Mr. Johns' tone was quiet, and almost indifferent. Yet Mr. Colson did not seem to altogether like it. He began to bluster. "You did not tell me that you were a professional."

"No; I did not tell you that I was a professional."

"You didn't play the other night as you have played to-day. It looks to me uncommonly like a put-up thing."

"It looks to you like a put-up thing, does it, Mr. Colson. Well, I'll give you a chance of showing your professional side. I believe you can drive?"

"Drive!" Mr. Colson looked at the little man as if he would like to eat him. "I'm the finest whip in India."

"Indeed! Is that so? Well, I'll drive you either four, or eight, in hand, for a thousand rupees a side, although you are the finest whip in India."

Mr. Colson snapped at his offer, before it was fairly out of his mouth, and I felt that Mr. Johns was going a little too far. It was one thing to match him at billiards, another thing to match him at driving. There Mr. Colson was on his native heath. When I was alone with Mr. Johns I told him so.

"I don't know if you are aware, Mr. Johns, that Mr. Colson really is a first-rate whip. I am informed that it was his magnificent driving which first attracted the Rajah's attention."

Mr. Johns did not exhibit much appearance of concern.

"I guess I'll fix him, anyhow. I haven't driven a stage over some of the worst country in the western states of America for nothing. I'll back myself to drive a coach-and-four along a wall just wide enough to hold the wheels-and I'll take you as a passenger, if you like to come."

"Thank you, Mr. Johns, my tastes do not incline that way."

"Don't you worry, Mr. Greenall. I mean to take on the whole lot of 'em, one after the other, and show 'em a thing or two all round. These gentlemen here fancy they know a little, but we'll be more than even with them before we've done."

The driving match came off. I do not know how they manage similar affairs in England. I have sometimes wondered. But I am under the impression that they are not managed on the lines on which they managed that driving match in Ahmednugger.

The way in which they managed it there was this. Mr. Colson was to drive upon the Monday, Mr. Johns upon the Wednesday. Each was to drive the same team-eight-in-hand. The horses, by-the-way, came out of the Rajah's stables. The course was to be up and down the streets of Ahmednugger, and then for a certain distance outside the city. The judges occupied the front of the coach. I had a seat among the insignificant people at the back. On the whole, I was content to sit behind. The proceedings, in the streets of Ahmednugger, were distinctly exciting-almost too exciting, I felt, for me. Those streets were very narrow, and they were blocked with traffic, be it understood. Mr. Colson and Mr. Johns, each with his eight horses, and a coach load of passengers, went down those streets at full speed, as if they had been fifty yards wide, and as if there had not been a soul in sight. What damages were done, and what was the list of the killed and wounded, I have never been informed. I never quite realized what it meant to belong to a subject race, till then. It appeared to me that, in the eyes of my companions, a native had, as a matter of course, no rights at all. We drove over whole streets full of them, in style. My heart was in my mouth most of the time. We dashed round impossible corners, shaking native tenements to their foundations. But we kept ourselves alive somehow. The peaceful pedestrians were slain. I am no judge of coachmanship-of such coachmanship as that, at any rate. Those who were judges, without a dissentient voice, awarded the palm to Mr. Johns and, in consequence it was said, Mr. Colson entered himself as a candidate for delirium tremens. He was a dreadful man.

It seemed as if Mr. Johns was prepared to match himself against the men of Ahmednugger at exactly those things at which each man fancied he was strongest. That is what he did do. He challenged any one to meet him at driving, or at billiards. And, when his challenge-for what seemed to me to be sufficient reasons-met with no response, he challenged any one to ride him. That challenge was taken up. But he beat all takers. He had a way with a horse which seemed little else than magical. A horse would jump six feet for him, when, apparently, it would not jump six inches for any other man in Ahmednugger. I don't know how it was, but so it was. I know nothing of Mr. Johns, beyond what I am writing. I never heard his story, nor how it was that a man of genius-he was a man of genius-came to find himself a broken-down small bookmaker in that little town "up country." Perhaps he was another exemplification of the fact that only mediocrity succeeds.

I know that I was more than even with the men of Ahmednugger-by deputy. The band played to them, as it had played to me. He made them face the music, and there was not one of them who did not leave his scalp upon the ground. My belt was adorned with trophies-by deputy. When Mr. Johns had beaten the men of Ahmednugger-as they had beaten me-at riding, and at driving, and at billiards, he took them on at shooting. And, so to speak, he shot their heads off. He showed them that, in the presence of this man, they were as nothing, and less than nothing. He even challenged Mr. Tebb to smash glass balls. He fixed the point from which they were to fire at an abnormal distance, and, if I remember rightly, he beat Mr. Tebb by about a score. After he had annihilated that presumptuous young vagabond, Mr. Johns informed me that shooting at glass balls really was not shooting. I was quite prepared to admit it. He said that it was only a trick. When you had once mastered the trick, it was impossible to miss. Perhaps. I have never fired at glass balls since then, so I have no reason to suppose that I have mastered the trick. When I do again fire at glass balls I am inclined to think that I shall not experience the slightest difficulty in missing every one of them.