The Triumph of Hilary Blachland Read online

  CHAPTER TWO.

  A WAFT OF STRANGE NEWS.

  "I say, Uncle Luke. Do you happen to be aware that it's jolly welltiffin time--Hallo, Canon! Didn't know you were here. How are you?"

  He who thus unceremoniously burst in upon them, in blissful ignorance ofthe momentous matter under discussion and of course of how his ownfortunes had been balancing in the scale, was a goodly specimen ofEnglish youth, tall, and well-hung, and athletic, but the bright franksunniness of his face, his straight open glance, and entirely unaffectedand therefore unspoiled manner rendered him goodly beyond the average.Percival West and Hilary Blachland were both orphaned sons of two of SirLuke's sisters, and had been to him even as his own children. There wasa difference of many years between their ages, however, and theircharacters were totally dissimilar, as we have heard set forth.

  "Time for tiffin is it, Percy?" said Sir Luke, glancing at hiswatch. "You see we old fogies haven't got your fine healthyjackass-and-a-bundle-of-greens appetite. We must have overlooked it."

  "I don't agree with you at all, Canterby," laughed the Canon. "I'llanswer for it. I feel uncommonly like beefsteaks, or anything that'sgoing. And what have you been doing with yourself, Percy?"

  "Biking. Got ten miles out beyond Passmore since eleven o'clock. Oh,bye-the-bye, Canon, I saw the Bishop in Passmore. He wanted you badly."

  "Percy, speak the truth, sir," returned the Canon, with a solemn twinklein his eyes. "You said the Bishop wanted me badly? And--his Lordshiphappens to be away!"

  "Every word I said is solemn fact," replied Percival. "I saw the Bishopin Passmore, but I didn't say to-day though. And there's no denying hedid want you badly. Eh, Canon?"

  "You're a disrespectful rascal, chaffing your seniors, sir, and if Iwere twenty years younger, I'd put on the gloves and take it out ofyou."

  "Come along in to tiffin, Canon, and take it out of that," rejoinedPercival with his light-hearted laugh, dropping his hand affectionatelyon to the old man's shoulder. And the trio adjourned to thedining-room.

  Jerningham Lodge, Sir Luke Canterby's comfortable, not to say luxuriousestablishment, was a roomy old house, standing within a walled park ofabout a hundred and fifty acres. Old, without being ancient, it wassusceptible of being brought up to _fin-de-siecle_ ideas of comfort, andthe gardens and shrubberies were extensive and well kept. It had comeinto his possession a good many years before, and soon after that he wasleft a childless widower. Thus it came about that these two nephews ofhis had found their home here.

  The elder of the two, however, did not turn out entirely to thesatisfaction of his uncle.

  "Hilary is such a confounded young rake," the latter used to say."He'll get himself into a most infernal mess one of these days."

  Both dicta were true. Headstrong and susceptible, there was hardly evera time when Hilary Blachland was outside some entanglement: more thanonce getting him into a serious scrape. Such, however, did notinvariably come to the ears of his uncle, though now and then they did,and on one occasion Sir Luke found himself obliged to pay down a heavysum to keep an uncommonly awkward breach of promise case against hisnephew from coming into court. Hilary at last made Passmore too hot tohold him, but the worst of it was that sooner or later the same heldgood of everywhere else. Still, the infinity of trouble he gave himnotwithstanding, this scapegrace was the one of his two nephews for whomSir Luke had the softest place in his heart--but at last the climaxarrived, and the name of that climax was the name of the suit which wehave just heard Sir Luke mention. Therein Hilary _had_ got himself--ashis uncle had forcibly put it--"into a most infernal mess." His saiduncle, moreover, had found himself called upon to pay the somewhat heavydamages and costs.

  He need not have done so, of course. He might have left the scapegraceto drag himself out of the mud he had got into. But, unlike many menwho have coined their own wealth, there was nothing close-fisted aboutSir Luke Canterby. He had disbursed the large sum with scarcely amurmur--anything to close down the confounded scandal. But with HilaryBlachland he was seriously angry and disgusted, and told him as much inno halting terms. The other replied he had better go abroad--and thesooner the better. So he took himself off--which, declared Sir Luke,was the most sensible thing he had decided to do for some time. Hechanged his mind though, on learning that Hilary had not gone alone,and--missed him, as he put it to himself and his most intimate friend,viz. Canon Lenthall, "like the very devil."

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  "By the way," said Percival when lunch was half through. "I brought outa later paper from Passmore. Here it is," producing it from the pocketof his Norfolk jacket. "Want to see it, uncle? Not much news, Iexpect."

  "Let's see the stock and share column," holding out one hand for thepaper, and fixing his glasses with the other. A glance up and down acolumn, then a turning over of the sheet. Then a sudden, undisguisedstart.

  "God bless my soul! What's this?"

  His hand shook as he held the news sheet, running his glance hastilydown it. "Why, that must be Hilary. There, Canon, read it out I canhardly see--there--that paragraph."

  The old priest took the paper. "`Trouble brewing in Mashonaland'? Isthat it? Yes? Well, here's what they say:--

  "`Stirring times seem in store for our Chartered Company's pioneers in their new Eldorado. It has been known that Lo Bengula's concession of the mining rights in Mashonaland to that Company was very distasteful to his people, and for some time past these have been manifesting their displeasure in such wise as to show that it is only a question of time when the settlers of Mashonaland will find themselves called upon to vindicate their rights by force, against their truculent neighbours. The last instance that we have seems to have happened early in November, when an armed force of Matabele crossed into Mashonaland, raiding and threatening at their own sweet will. Several native servants in the employ of settlers were murdered in cold blood, Lo Bengula's warriors asserting their right to carry on their time-honoured pastime, declaring that the lives of these people were not included in the concession; but so far they have refrained from murdering Europeans. One specific example of the unbridled aggressiveness of these savages is also to hand. The impi went to the house of a man named Blachland, a trader and hunter residing near the head waters of the Umnyati river. Two of his servants had got wind of its approach, and after warning their master fled for their lives to the bush. It appears however, that Blachland was ill with a bad attack of fever, and too weak to move.'"

  An exclamation from Percival and Sir Luke caused the reader to pause.

  "Go on, Canon, go on," said the latter hurriedly.

  "`It appears that the induna in charge of the impi was well known to the sick man, and while he entered the house and engaged the latter in conversation, his followers amused themselves by ransacking the out-premises. Here they discovered two little Mashona boys, Blachland's servants, who were hiding in terror. These were dragged forth, and regardless of their shrieks for mercy, were ruthlessly speared, the bloodthirsty savages roaring with delight as they tossed the miserable little wretches to and fro among each other, on the blades of their great assegais. Then they went away, leaving the bleeding and mangled corpses lying in the gateway, and calling out to the sick occupant of the place that the time for killing white people had not come yet.

  "`From there they proceeded to the camp of two prospectors named Skelsey and Spence. The last-named was away, but Skelsey had got wind of their coming and had promptly put his camp into a position of defence--and prepared to give them a warm reception. When they arrived he showed them his magazine rifle and revolver, and called out to the induna in command that he was going to shoot until he hadn't a cartridge left, if they advanced a step nearer. They did not appear to relish the prospect, and drew off, uttering threats. Thus this brave fellow saved the lives of his four scared and cowering Mashona servants, who, however, sh
owed their appreciation by deserting next day.

  "`Blachland, it is reported, is out of favour with Lo Bengula, who recently ordered him out of his country for some reason or other, while he was on a trading trip at Bulawayo.'"

  Then followed some more comments on the insecurity of life and propertyat the mercy of savage neighbours, and the necessity for prompt anddecided action, and the paragraph ended.

  "I suppose there's no doubt about it being Hilary?" said Percival, whenthe reader had stopped. "Blachland isn't such a common name, and he didgo out there as a trader or something. By Jove, wouldn't I like to bewith him!"

  Both his seniors smiled. They were thinking his wish might soon berealised.

  "Down with fever, poor chap!" said Sir Luke. "But that up-country feverisn't fatal, I've heard, not if men take proper care of themselves. Heought to have a run home though. The voyage would soon set him on hisfeet again."

  "Rather!" echoed Percival, enthusiastically. "It would be grand to seethe dear old chap again."

  "Well, perhaps we may, Percy, perhaps we may," rejoined his uncle,rather excitedly. "How would you like to go over and fetch him?"

  "Me? By George! I'd like it better than anything else in the world.But--suppose he wouldn't come?"

  "Of course he'd come. Why shouldn't he come?" testily answered SirLuke, to whom this afterthought was not a pleasant one. And the rest ofthe time was spent in discussing this news from a far-away land.

  "Strange, isn't it?" said Sir Luke, thereafter, Percival having gone outof the room. "Just as we were talking over Hilary, and here this bit ofnews comes right in upon us from outside. If Percy hadn't brought backthat paper we might never have heard it."

  "Looks like an omen, doesn't it, Luke?" laughed the Canon. "Looks as ifhe were to be instrumental in bringing Hilary back."

  "I hope to Heaven he may. I say, Dick, old friend, I'm more than gladyou turned in here to-day, in time to make me put that abominable draftin the fire."

  "Will you walk back with me a little way, Percy?" said the Canon as hewas taking his leave, having refused Sir Luke's offer to send him backon wheels.

  "Why rather. Wait, I'll just get my bike. I can wheel it along, andride it back."

  They passed down the village street together, nodding here and there toan acquaintance, or acknowledging the salutation of a rustic. Therector of the parish passed them on a bicycle, and the two professors ofrival creeds exchanged a cordial and friendly greeting, for somehow, noone was anything other than friendly with Canon Lenthall. But it wasnot until they had left the village behind and had gained the opencountry that he began to discourse seriously with his younger friend asto the matter of which both were thinking.

  "Let me see. How long is it since you saw Hilary?" he began.

  "Oh, about half a dozen years--just before he got into that--er--mess.What a splendid chap he was, Canon. I've sometimes thought Uncle Lukewas a bit hard on him that time."

  "You're quite wrong, Percy. Hard is the one thing your uncle could notbe. Why, he's the softest hearted man in existence."

  "Yes, I know. But, does he really want me to go out there and hunt upHilary?"

  "I believe so. As a matter of fact, we happened to be discussing thatvery thing just before you came in. It was a strange coincidence thatyou should unconsciously have brought the news you did."

  Percival whistled. "Were you really? Strange indeed. Well, I'm on forthe scheme. It doesn't matter if I enter at the Temple now, or in sixor eight months' time--and, what an experience it'll be in the meantime."

  They were nearing Passmore, and the chimneys and spires of the town weregrowing larger and larger in front of them--and already the haze ofsmoke was dimming the bright green of the expanse of meadow between.They had gained the wooden road-bridge, beneath which the sluggish waterran oily between the black piers, and here the Canon paused.

  "It will be a great thing if we can bring Hilary back to his uncle, sothat they are thoroughly reconciled. But Percy, my boy--remember thatso far, for all these years past you have been the first and only onenear him. How will you feel when you see another first--and to allappearances of more consequence than yourself, as is natural in the caseof one who has long been away. Are you sure of yourself?"

  But the young man burst into a free, frank and hearty laugh.

  "Great Scot, Canon!" he cried merrily. "What sort of a bounder are youtrying to take me for? There's nothing I'd like so much as to see thedear old chap back again."

  The old priest gazed steadily at him for a moment, and felt greatlyrelieved. The answer rang so spontaneous, so true.

  "Well, I had that to say to you, and have said it. In fact I broughtyou with me now on purpose to say it. Now, good-bye my boy, and Godbless you."