Chapter III

With a quick, assured step Colonel Tallboys led the way along matted corridors, past salaaming peons, to a fine Napier car, in which he and his guest seated themselves; and escorted by a roaring wind, and clouds of thick red dust, thundered through the Wallajah gate, and sped past the Island towards the hub of Madras--its far-famed Club.

"We are rather full just now, with a crowd down from Bangalore, and one or two of Fan's English friends; Sir William Bream, a distant cousin, and Mrs. Villars, a smart lady, doing India," explained Colonel Tallboys; "you won't mind if we stick you in a tent for a day or two, will you?"

"On the contrary, I shall enjoy it of all things--I like camp life."

"You mean the manœuvres at home, all rain and mud, galloping and shouting--my little camp is another sort of show. Well, here we are," as they glided into a vast compound and drew up at the Club entrance. "Come along," said Colonel Tallboys briskly, "this way to the dining-room."

As they went upstairs, and moved forward, Mallender's popular pioneer scattered friendly greetings here and there among his acquaintances, who did not fail to notice the good-looking stranger in his wake--undoubtedly a soldier, with an easy cavalry lounge. _En route_ to a favourite table Colonel Tallboys encountered a particular chum, to whom he introduced his cousin, murmuring in a low aside:

"Just out from home--place under repair--come to have a look round before he settles."

When repeating this information to a neighbour the friend supplemented:

"He need not trouble himself; Mrs. Tallboys will undertake his _settling_, and marry him off out here!"

The prospect amused them, and they laughed heartily.

Tiffin was excellent, the prawn curry maintained its high reputation; Mallender, who had breakfasted on sour grey bread, buffalo butter, and bad coffee, was ravenously hungry, and thoroughly appreciated this his first genuine meal in India, served, too, in a cool, lofty dining-room, with tempered sea-breezes, and deft, white-clad waiters.

"A fine Club, is it not?" said Colonel Tallboys with the air of a proud proprietor. "The oldest in India; we can dine three hundred, the reading-room is the same size, now we have an annexe--a ladies' club--'The Morghi Khana'--where they assemble for tea, and bridge."

"You don't allow them in here! Eh?"

"No, these premises are sacred--we are uncommonly strict and exclusive. Do you notice the servants' quaint dress? Real old Madras fashion, and the quantities of chutney offered--another speciality--but soon you will know your way about, and become acquainted with our bar trick, and Saturday's prunes and cream."

When cheese and fruit had been despatched, a move was made to the great lounge; here, reclining in a long chair, they discovered a disconsolate young man, whose bowed head and limp attitude proclaimed some recent affliction.

"Hullo, Byng, you seem a bit off colour, what's up?" demanded Colonel Tallboys; "all the ponies gone lame, or dead?"

"Nearly as bad," answered Captain Byng--A.D.C. to His Excellency the Governor--as he rose and unfolded a tall, slim figure; "Grafton has broken his arm playing some fool's trick over the mess table, and he was our mainstay."

"By Jove, that's a calamity! But"--looking round--"here is a substitute for you; my cousin, Captain Mallender, who arrived yesterday, plays polo. Geoffrey, this is Captain Byng, captain of the Chaffinches."

"Mallender! You are Mallender of the Warlocks, I'm sure," said the A.D.C. eagerly. "You played back in the team; I've seen you at Barnes and Hurlingham,--this _is_ a piece of luck!"

"But I'm quite out of practice," Mallender declared; "haven't had a stick in my hand for months! Besides, I've no ponies. You are very kind, but I'm no use."

Long before he had ceased to speak his protest was drowned in an animated duet between two voices, discussing ways and means.

Colonel Tallboys was anxious to secure a congenial occupation for his elusive guest, and Captain Byng, in this hard-hitting player, saw visions of victory instead of defeat. At least he was now assured of making a strong fight against the Chokras from Ooty and the famous Marauders from Bangalore.

Within three minutes the matter had been decided; Mallender's objections were offered to deaf ears; the question of ponies, practice, and, if it came to that, kit, was disposed of with almost contemptible ease!

"I'll expect you out at Guindy to practice to-morrow at six-thirty sharp," was Byng's authoritative announcement; "you shall try some jolly good ponies, Malabar and Chutney and Cossack--eh, Colonel? What's your weight?"

"Eleven stone--I'm afraid I put up something on board ship."

"Oh, you'll be all right; we have a nice ground in topping order, and our men are as keen as mustard. I," drawing a long breath, "breathe again."

Byng's enthusiasm proved infectious; Mallender, a lover of the game, soon threw himself into the subject with the zest and simplicity of a schoolboy, and listened with the profoundest interest to all particulars concerning the five competing teams.

"With a week's hard practice I might be useful," he admitted, "anyway, I'll do my very best. I suppose you play eight minutes a chukker?"

Colonel Tallboys, who had been a silent and attentive looker-on, now interposed.

"I say, Byng, I'll leave Mallender in your hands for racquets, billiards, and talk. I've got a heap of work to do, very important letters, and must get back to the office at once. Geoffrey, I'll call here for you at half-past five--or six. Keep your eye on him, Byng!" he added with a laugh as he hurried out of the smoking-room.

"Your cousin?" said Byng, as he offered a box of Trichis.

"Yes, one of my few relations--I've not seen him for fourteen years."

"Ah! I wish to goodness I could say the same of some of _mine_!" rejoined the A.D.C., throwing himself back in his luxurious club chair, and striking a match. "Let me tell you that your kinsman is a rare good sort--one of the real, sporting, open-handed lot that, I'm sorry to say, are getting a bit scarce. He does you rattling well, likes to have his house full--sometimes the guests overflow into tents! He's awfully popular, too, and it's _not_ cupboard love! Latterly he has given up riding races, and his Missus bars polo; but he is a capital racquet player, and as for dancing, there isn't a girl in the place who wouldn't throw me over for a turn with _him_. You are staying there--Hooper's Gardens."

"Is that what it's called?"

"Yes, but mind you, it's not like our Grosvenor Gardens, or Chesterfield Gardens, at home; these houses--sort of nabobs' palaces--built by merchants in the Fort, were where they took refuge during the long-shore winds, such as we have to-day. There is a big dinner on to-night. By the way, you have seen Mrs. Tallboys?"

"No, not yet."

"One of the best! Awfully rich, but, bar the hospitality, you'd swear she had not a _sou_; keeps a sort of Home of Rest for Invalids, and a Matrimonial Agency for girls; what she gives to charity on the quiet would pay for a polo club--or run a racing stable."

"Great Scott!" ejaculated Mallender.

"Well, to-morrow I'll expect you out at Guindy, A.D.C.'s quarters. We will have a practice, you can write your name in the book, and in the cool of the evening I'll drive you in--how's that?"

"All right, you're very kind."

"Not a bit of it, you are going to get me out of a big hole. The season is in full swing, you are just in the nick of time."

"But I'm not here for society; I'm going up-country on--er--business."

"Not you!" with a derisive laugh. "Mrs. Tallboys will freeze on to you, you'll be one of her boys, she loves boys and girls, and is a shameless matchmaker, married off two of her own plain nieces--and both into the Civil Service! You'll find a wonderful atmosphere of joy and gladness about the house, such go, and good fellowship. By Jove, it flies to your head, and you have a near shave of losing it!"

"Then it's a risky place?"

"Rather; it ought to be marked with a red triangle, 'Dangerous to Bachelors.' Mrs. Tallboys has a knack of assembling original and amusing people, not to speak of the poor, and friendless. I believe she has a large assortment this week from Bangalore and Trichy. Among the collection is Mrs. Villars; she is jolly good-looking, one of the prettiest women I've ever set eyes on. I hope I shall take her in to dinner to-night."

"I hope you may," was the generous reply.

"Well, we can't sit here all day; it's too hot for racquets," said Byng, laying down the stump of his cigar; "shall we go and have a game of billiards?--I'll play you a hundred up."