The Sabre's Edge

'Rather a fine mess in the making, I'd say.'

'Well, it wouldn't be the first time.'

'Hervey, you seem remarkably phlegmatical.'

'You misjudge me if you think I approve. Rose has not acted like a gentleman. There's scarce more to say, is there?'

'Not acted like a gentleman? I doubt Rose would see it that way, since he'd not recognize Broad as one. Just like a bit of foolery with a housemaid, really.'

'Don't be too hard, David. It seems ten times worse here than if we were in Hounslow. And Mrs Broad's a deuced handsome woman.'

Sledge held his peace. Instead he stopped at one of the stalls to look over the new grey that Hervey had bought for his trumpeter. 'The talk in the wet canteen, by the way, is of money changing hands between Barrow and Nirmal Sen.'

Hervey sighed. Two of the troop-leaders on the primrose path, and for all to see. He felt sorry for the major. 'Ay, Johnson told me last night. How do these things get abroad? It could hardly have come from Nirmal Sen. He can't very well own to bribing a Company official.'

'So you suppose the talk is accurate?'

'I suppose no such thing. You must not let on, 'but the major spoke to me of it three days ago. I told him there was no more reason to presume Barrow capable of it than anyone else.'

Sledge stood up having run a hand down each of the grey's legs. 'Very noble. Do you suppose any would agree with you?'

Hervey looked surprised.

'If it were me or Ledley or the paymaster it would be the same,' said Sledge.

'Oh, come. That is a calumny on the regiment. It might have been Towcester's view but that's of the past.'

Sledge raised his eyebrows as if unconvinced. 'I think you chose well, this grey,' he said, nodding to the trumpeter's new pride. 'I think it safe to pay the balance.'

'Even to Nirmal Sen?'

'There's no question but that he's supplying good horses.'

Hervey smiled in a resigned way. 'Shall you come to evening stables?'

'Of course.'

'And shall you dine? I intend doing.' 'Then so shall I.'

★ * ★

Hervey drained his coffee cup and placed it on the major's desk. 'And that is the long and the short of it.'

Major Joynson had taken off his spectacles and begun to polish them. It had become so much his idiosyncrasy that Hervey found himself wondering at what point the polishing would begin, and the length of time and vigorousness of the polishing, for this tended to indicate the process of cogitation and the degree of difficulty presented by the solution. This morning the polishing had been slow and methodical, suggesting that the case of Rose and Broad was not to be treated with summary, and perhaps condign, justice. 'How much of it do you suppose is generally known?'

Hervey raised both eyebrows.

'Yes. You're right,' said Joynson wearily.

'And if it's not known about already then it can be but a matter of time. Broad is a sick man, his wife is unfaithful, and with a brother officer. These things can hardly conduce to tranquillity.'

Still Joynson polished. 'What would you do were you me?'

'What could I do? Would I have any option but to require Rose to leave?'

Major Joynson had not hoped for a reply in the interrogative. Nevertheless it gave him an opportunity to exhaust all hope of alternatives. 'Would he have to leave the regiment? Sell out,

I mean. Or might he go elsewhere for a time? Somewhere else in India, even. The staff?'

Hervey paused to consider. ^‘If Broad had been other than riding master or another from the ranks, and had Rose intended marriage with Mrs Broad, then I suppose it might just have been arranged. But very evidently these are not the conditions.'

'And so Rose must sell out?'

Hervey was becoming exasperated at the major's unwillingness to draw the remaining conclusion. 'Neither you nor I make the rules, sir.'

The major sighed. 'If only we were ordered on campaign.'

'There is that, I grant you,' said Hervey. 'But very evidently that is not a condition on which we can count either.'

'I suppose, then, that first I must have Broad before me and ask what he wishes to be done. Or perhaps first I should see Rose?'

Hervey sighed to himself. 'Really, sir, I think it makes no difference whatever. You shall have to see both of them.'

'And Mrs Broad shall have to leave the cantonment at once.'

Hervey hesitated. 'I think she must. But do let us be kind.'

'Yes, yes,' said the major, suddenly increasing the speed of his polishing. 'Oh dear. Poor woman, poor woman. These things in my experience are never quite as the Commandments suggest.'

Hervey was not sure of the major's point, but he judged it of no matter. 'And as for the tattle about Barrow, I'm afraid I can add nothing but that David Sledge has told me it is the talk of the wet canteen. Indeed, I had heard so myself.'

Major Joynson stopped his polishing and replaced his spectacles. 'Very well. I shall summon Nirmal Sen. We had better lance this sore in the same way.'

Hervey got up and took his cap.

The major took off his glasses and unaccountably began polishing again. 'Oh, and Hervey, I am very gratified by your counsel. As you say, neither you nor I make the rules.'

'No, sir.'

'And in that connection I would urge you most earnestly to look to your own arrangements regarding . . . regarding your arrangements. There has been talk, I hear ... in the drawing rooms.'

That night in the mess there were few officers, and Hervey, more tired than he had supposed after his first full day in uniform, had not been greatly inclined to join them. However, he had been absent from the table for so long that he thought it a positive duty to dine. He had arrived not many minutes before the khansamah announced dinner and found himself at once the senior.

It was the Sixth's custom for the most junior dining officer to sit on the senior's left, with any guest of the mess on the other hand. It was usually an agreeable position to find oneself in, for both senior and junior, but this evening Hervey found that it promised otherwise, for the junior was Cornet Green and the senior of the two guests was the bishop's chaplain, there at the invitation of Seton Canning with whom he had been at school.

'Reverend sir,' said Hervey as they stood by their chairs. 'Would you say grace?'

'Benedic Domine . . .' began the bishop's chaplain solemnly, and continued at some length.

'Per Jesum Christum Dominum Nostrum. Amen,' answered the table, as best they could, when at last he was finished. Strickland made the sign of the cross - evidence, indeed, of Sir Ivo's benevolent dominion. Poor Strickland had almost been forced onto half pay by Lord Towcester's malignance in matters of religion.

Hervey turned to his right as they sat, to begin what he feared must be an unedifying conversation. He had formed no very high opinion of the Bishop of Calcutta, and he supposed his chaplain to be of the same stamp. But from the other side of the table the senior lieutenant addressed him on behalf of the subalterns. 'We were deliberating, sir, on the efficacy of the sabre's point as against the edge, and wondered what was your opinion in the matter.'

Hervey was taken aback somewhat. Indeed, he suspected a prank. It had never been the Sixth's custom to speak of matters of this sort, and Oliver Finucane had certainly shown no previous zeal. He glanced at the other subalterns, each of them showing quite extraordinary attention (except Vanneck, whose eyes were lowered), and wondered what transformation there might have been in the months of his absence. 'I am not rightly sure it is a proper subject to discuss in front of a guest such as Mr Stephenson,' he replied, with a note that implied he would somehow welcome clarification.

'Oh, do not desist for my part,' implored the chaplain. 'These are matters of very evident moment to gentlemen of your calling.'