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"Let me see the thing," and he snatched a newspaper cutting from Wratislaw's hand, returning it the next moment with a laugh. It ran thus: "Telegrams from the Punjab declare that an expedition, the personnel of which is not yet revealed, is about to start for the town of Bardur in N. Kashmir, to penetrate the wastes beyond the frontier.
The rock-wall, the Bada-Mawidi, whatever it was, something existed between Bardur and the Russian frontier which this pleasant gentleman did not wish him to see. "Our plans are all vague," he said, "and of course we are glad of your advice." "And I am glad to give it, though in many ways you know the place better than I do.
I say, Haystoun, who's that old man?" Gribton's jovial looks belied his words. Lewis mentioned a name for his host's benefit. The room was emptying rapidly, for the Cercle dined early. "Now for business," said Gribton, when a waiter had brought the game course, and they sat in the midst of a desert of linen and velvet. "I have given the thing up, but I spent twenty of my best years at Bardur.
Finally came George's two words of advice keep strict watch on the native town and hold Bardur in readiness for a siege; and wire the same directions to Yasin, Gilgit, Chitral, Chilas, and throughout Kashmir and the Punjab. Above all, wire to the chief places on the new Indus Valley railway, for in case of success in Bardur, the railway would be the first object of the invader.
It is a mere matter of time till Persia is the Tsar's territory, and then they may begin to think about invasion." "You think the northern road impossible! I suppose you ought to know." "I do, and I have some reason for my opinion. I know Afghanistan and Chitral as few Europeans know it." "But what about Bardur, and this Kashmir frontier?
Who are the Englishmen at Bardur now?" The elder man looked shrewdly at the younger, who was carelessly pulling a flower to pieces. "There's Logan, whom you know, and Thwaite and Gribton." "Good men all, but slow in the uptake. Logan is a jewel. He gave me the best three days' shooting I ever dreamed of, and he has more stories in his head than George.
He felt his impotence, he was touched insensibly by the easy content of the place. Frontier difficulties seemed matters for romance and comic opera; and Bardur resolved itself into an English suburb, all tea-parties and tennis. But at times an austere conscience jogged him to remembrance, and in one such fitful craving for action and enterprise he had found this errand.
We may be killed, but if we keep them back even for a little God will bless us. So be steady at your posts." The garrison was soon dispersed, the guns in readiness, pointing up the valley. It was ten o'clock by Thwaite's watch ere the last click of the loaders told that Bardur was awaiting an enemy.
In which case there would be the devil to pay, and he had no advice to give. Thwaite read and laughed grimly. It was not a question of a day's delay, but of an hour's, and the hill-tribes, if he judged Marker's cleverness rightly, would act just as Jackson feared. The business had begun among the navvies at Bardur and Gilgit and Boonji.
Haystoun, will you do me the honour to dine with me? I am alone, and I think we might manage to find things to talk about." Lewis accepted gladly, and with one of his sweetest smiles the gentleman returned to Mrs. Logan's side. "I Have heard of you so much," Mr. Marker said, "and it was a lucky chance which brought me to Bardur to meet you."
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