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Updated: May 25, 2025
She had at the bottom of her heart a great fear of her lover, a fear that she might lose him, a fear that he might hold her in scorn, if he knew her only half as well as she knew herself. "I don't want you to be afraid of me," he said, quietly. "There is no reason for it." "You are hard to others if they come in your way," she replied, and Linforth stopped. Yes, that was true.
It will be carried in galleries along the faces of the mountains, and for eight months of the year sections of it will be buried deep in snow. Yet it will be finished." How rightly Andrew Linforth had judged! But Dick for once felt no joy in the accuracy of the old man's forecast. He walked back through the city silent and with a heavy heart.
To Linforth's thinking it was only "just not" with Shere Ali, too. Linforth saw his companion coming towards him from the restaurant. He held out his hand. "I have got to go," he said. "I too," replied Violet. But she detained him. "I want to tell you," she said hurriedly. "Long ago in Peshawur do you remember? I told you there was someone else a better mate for you than I was.
She waved her hand lightly and smiled. As the door closed behind him she returned to the ball-room. Linforth went away with no suspicion in his mind that she had stayed her feet upon the landing merely to make very sure that he went. He had left his mother behind, however, and she was all suspicion. She had remarked the little scene when Shere Ali had unexpectedly appeared.
That's certain," he said, nodding his head. A cold satisfaction shone in his eyes. "But Linforth was part of the Thing." He passed the second letter to Dewes, who read it; and for a while both men remained thoughtful and, as it seemed, unaware for the moment of the Diwan's presence. There was this difference, however.
"He has found him," he cried. "Shere Ali is in Ajmere." It took a moment or two for the words to penetrate to Linforth's mind. Then he said slowly: "Oh! Shere Ali's in Ajmere. I must start for Ajmere to-morrow." Ralston looked up from his letters and glanced at Linforth. Something in the abstracted way in which Linforth had spoken attracted his attention. He smiled: "Yes, it's a pity," he said.
"If I had shot a tiger in India," he said, with an indescribable look of pathos upon his big red face, "it would have made a great difference to my life." "So you go to parties nowadays," said Mrs. Linforth, and Sir John Casson, leaning his back against the wall of the ball-room, puzzled his brains for the name of the lady with the pleasant winning face to whom he had just been introduced.
"I shall not forget them," said Linforth, and there was no longer any levity in his tones. He spoke gravely, and more than gravely. There was a note of anxiety, as though he were troubled. "I promise," he said. "Thank you," said Violet simply; "for I know that you will keep the promise."
I believe that I am for the D.S.O. And above all the Road goes on!" Thus characteristically the letter was concluded. Linforth wrote it with a flush of pride and a great joy. He had no doubt now that he would be appointed to the Road. Congratulations were showered upon him. Down upon the plains, Violet would hear of his achievement and perhaps claim proudly and joyfully some share in it herself.
A water-carrier with an earthen jar upon his head had appeared at the top of the steps a second before Shere Ali had turned so abruptly away from Linforth. It was this man whom the three were watching. Slowly he descended. The steps were high and worn, smooth and slippery.
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