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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Now, dear, point out your luggage to my servant and he'll look after it and get it up to the hotel. Oh, how do you do, Captain Charlesworth?" The Rifleman, determined to lose no time in making Noreen's acquaintance, had come up to them. "I had quite a shock, Mrs. Smith, when I saw you on the platform, for I was afraid that you were leaving us and had come to take the down train."
Dermot, however, appeared not to notice it. He behaved with perfect courtesy to the Hindu, and ignored his attempts at impertinence, much to Daleham's relief, winning Noreen's admiration by his self-control. He skilfully steered the conversation to the subject of the Bengalis employed on the estate.
Noreen's arrival in the district the previous year and her instant popularity were galling to the older woman. But after a while, finding that her sneers and thinly-veiled bitter speeches against the girl had no effect on the men, she changed her tactics and pretended to make a bosom friend of her. When all the company had assembled at the club, luncheon was served at a long, rough wooden table.
Noreen's voice carried clearly through the building, so that everyone inside it heard her words distinctly. The only two members of their little community who missed them were her brother and his opponent on the tennis-court. Mrs. Rice gasped and stared at the indignant girl, while the men about her sat up suddenly in their chairs. "I said so? What an idea!" ejaculated the planter's wife.
Then, on a piece of paper, she wrote the words: "I, not Dyck Calhoun, killed Erris Boyne." A few moments later, Noreen's eyes opened, and Sheila spoke to her. "I have written these words. Here they are see them. Sign them." She read the words, and put a pencil in the trembling fingers, and, on the cover of a book Noreen's fingers traced her name slowly but clearly.
The woman's eyes sought the face of Dyck Calhoun, and Calhoun said: "No, you did not spoil my life, Noreen Boyne. You have made it. Not that I should have chosen the way of making it, but there it is, as God's in heaven, I forgive you." Noreen's face lost some of its gloom. "That makes it easier," she said brokenly. "I can't atone by any word or act, but I'm sorry.
"Admirable Crichton, wasn't it?" "Yes, that was the name. Well, your Major seems a wonderful chap," she said. "Do ask him. Perhaps he'll bring some of his officers here." "I hope he won't, Mrs. Rice," remarked Goddard. "If he does, it's evident that none of us will have a look in with you." She smirked, well pleased, as she caught Noreen's eye and rose from the table.
The rest were planters from other parts of the Duars, a few members of the Indian Civil Service or Public Works Departments, and a young Deputy Superintendent of Police from Jalpaiguri. At Chunerbutty's table the party consisted of the Rices, one of the Civil Servants, the Dalehams, and Noreen's friend. The planter's wife neglected the man beside her to stare at Mrs.
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