Ralston and Hatch fell to debating that point with great earnestness.  Neither of them paid heed to Shere Ali, and when he rose they easily let him go.  Nor did their thoughts follow him upon his way.  But he was thinking deeply as he went, and a queer and not very pleasant smile played about his lips.

CHAPTER XVIII

SYBIL LINFORTH’S LOYALTY

A fortnight after Shere Ali had dined with Ralston in Calcutta, a telegram was handed to Linforth at Chatham.  It was Friday, and a guest-night.  The mess-room was full, and here and there amongst the scarlet and gold lace the sombre black of a civilian caught the eye.  Dinner was just over, and at the ends of the long tables the mess-waiters stood ready to draw, with a single jerk, the strips of white tablecloth from the shining mahogany.  The silver and the glasses had been removed, the word was given, and the strips of tablecloth vanished as though by some swift legerdemain.  The port was passed round, and while the glasses were being filled the telegram was handed to Linforth by his servant.

He opened it carelessly, but as he read the words his heart jumped within him.  His importunities had succeeded, he thought.  At all events, his opportunity had come; for the telegram informed him of his appointment to the Punjab Commission.  He sat for a moment with his thoughts in a whirl.  He could hardly believe the good news.  He had longed so desperately for this one chance that it had seemed to him of late impossible that he should ever obtain it.  Yet here it had come to him, and upon that his neighbour jogged him in the ribs and said: 

“Wake up!”

He waked to see the Colonel at the centre of the top table standing on his feet with his glass in his hand.

“Gentlemen, the Queen.  God bless her!” and all that company arose and drank to the toast.  The prayer, thus simply pronounced amongst the men who had pledged their lives in service to the Queen, had always been to Linforth a very moving thing.  Some of those who drank to it had already run their risks and borne their sufferings in proof of their sincerity; the others all burned to do the like.  It had always seemed to him, too, to link him up closely and inseparably with the soldiers of the regiment who had fallen years ago or had died quietly in their beds, their service ended.  It gave continuity to the regiment of Sappers, so that what each man did increased or tarnished its fair fame.  For years back that toast had been drunk, that prayer uttered in just those simple words, and Linforth was wont to gaze round the walls on the portraits of the famous generals who had looked to these barracks and to this mess-room as their home.  They, too, had heard that prayer, and, carrying it in their hearts, without parade or needless speech had gone forth, each in his turn, and laboured unsparingly.

But never had Linforth been so moved as he was tonight.  He choked in his throat as he drank.  For his turn to go forth had at the last come to him.  And in all humility of spirit he sent up a prayer on his own account, that he might not fail—­and again that he might not fail.