One Maid's Mischief Part 120

"But you don't mean to say," cried Hilton, "that you are going off on another expedition of this sort, doctor?"

"Indeed but I do, sir!"

"And what does Mrs Doctor say?" asked Chumbley. "Does she approve?"

"Of course, my dear boy. Don't you see that I am combining the journey with one in search of my brother-in-law?"

"Oh," said Hilton, drily, "I see.

"Harley's people are back without any news, and my little wife is distracted about it; vows she'll go herself if I don't find him. And then there's that Mrs Barlow. I was up all night with her.

Hysterical, and shrieking '_Arthur_!' at intervals like minute-guns."

"She has started a devoted attachment to the chaplain, hasn't she?"

asked Chumbley.

"Dreadful!" replied the doctor. "It makes me think that the poor fellow is best away, for she certainly means to marry him when he comes back.

I say Chumbley, you're a big fellow!"

"Granted, oh, wise man of the east."

"You have no income?"

"The munificent pay awarded by Her Majesty's Government to a lieutenant of foot, my dear doctor, as you perfectly well know."

"Exactly," continued the doctor. "And you would not be afraid of a widow?"

"No, I don't think I should."

"Then marry Mrs Barlow. She is to be had for the asking, I am sure; and she has a nice bit of money. It would be a catch for you, and relieve poor Arthur Rosebury from further trouble."

"Hilton, old man," said Chumbley, solemnly, "do you think there is a crocodile in the river big enough to receive this huge carcase of mine?"

"Doubtful," said Hilton, laughing. "I agree with you, Hilton! it is doubtful. But sooner would I plunge in and be entombed there than in the affections of Barlow. No, doctor, if you have my health at heart, you must prescribe differently from that. I say, though, don't you take it rather coolly about the chaplain?"

"Coolly? Not I, my dear fellow; but how can a man like me sit down and snivel? Here am I watching Helen Perowne one day, her father the next; then up all night with Billy--I mean Mrs--Barlow; without taking into consideration the calls to Private Thomas Atkins, who has eaten too much plaintain and mangosteen, and thinks he has the cholera; Mrs Ali Musto Rafoo, who is in a fidget about her offspring; and all the livers of the European residents to keep in gear. I say I have no time to think of anything."

"But Solomon's gold mines," said Chumbley.

"Get out with your chaff!" cried the doctor. "But seriously, I have got hold of that fellow Yusuf, and he tells me he thinks he can find the chaplain, and I am just off. I couldn't help the allusion to the gold."

"But you think it lies somewhere up-country?" said Chumbley, seriously.

"Sure of it, my dear boy!" cried the doctor, eagerly; "and I shall of course use every effort to find Rosebury: but to be honest, it would be unnatural if I did not look out for the great object of my thoughts at times."

"What, the chaplain?" said Hilton.

"No, the Ophir gold mines," said the doctor, seriously; "but really it is a great trouble to me, this disappearance of my brother-in-law. You couldn't go with me, could you, Hilton?"

"I go? No, I'm afraid not, doctor."

Chumbley gave a curious start at this, but was immovable of aspect the next moment.

"It's my belief," he said quietly, "that when you come to the point and find the chaplain, it will be where the doctor wants to get to so earnestly."

"What do you mean?" cried Dr Bolter.

"Depend upon it he has discovered Ophir, and is sitting upon the gold.

That's why he does not come back?"

"You don't think so, do you?" cried the doctor, earnestly.

"Well it is possible," replied Chumbley. "What do you say, Harley?" he continued, as the Resident strolled up.

"Say about what?"

"I tell the doctor that I think Rosebury has discovered Ophir, and that is why he does not come back."

The Resident smiled.

"My dear doctor," he said, "when do you start?"

"To-morrow morning at daybreak."

"And you will take three or four men with you--say a sergeant and three privates?"

"Thanks, no," said the doctor; "but I should like one soldier with me if I can take my pick."

"I will answer for it that you may."

"Then I want Chumbley."

"Oh, I'll go with you!" cried the latter. "Where do you mean to go first--to the Inche Maida's district?"

"No," cried the doctor; "what is the good of going there? You know she has had the place well searched, and turned sulky, and holds aloof from us now."

"Yes," said Chumbley, exchanging glances with Hilton, "I know that. Of course she is annoyed about Murad."

"Of course," said Hilton frankly, "she does not like being suspected of connivance with the Rajah for one thing, and feels as well that at such a time as this her presence would be out of place and awkward."

"It is a pity too," said the Resident, "for I would rather be on good terms with so enlightened a woman."

"Sore place," said the doctor, in his quick, offhand way; "give it time and keep it healthy, and it will soon heal up. The Inche Maida fancies we are suspicious of her. Wait a bit, and send her a little present, and then an invitation. I would not be in too great a hurry. Wait till the Murad business has all settled down, and she has seen that we are not going to usurp her land."

"Yes," said Hilton; "I think the doctor is right."

"Sure I am," said the doctor. "Diagnosed the case. Bless your hearts, before long her serene highness will have the vapours, or cut her finger, or chew too much betel, or something or another, and then she will send for yours truly, Henry Bolter, and all will be plain sailing again. Well, Chumbley, will you come with me?"

"Yes, doctor, on two conditions," replied Chumbley.