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The Queen's Scarlet, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 30. The Echo Of The Ball |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY. THE ECHO OF THE BALL The barrack yard was thronged as the colonel hurried out, thankful that the terrible disaster had not been made awful by any loss of life; and for the next hour he was one of the most active in trying to allay the alarm, and soothing the frightened girls and their chaperones, who were now the occupants of the quarters where the various officers' wives were doing their best to play hostess to the torn and dishevelled beings who had sought shelter beneath their roof. As for the square in which the marquee had been erected, that remained a perfect chaos till the morning, the colonel having given orders that nothing should be touched as soon as the fire had been extinguished and the escaping gas securely stopped where the great pipe--not the original cause of the mischief, but that which had been broken by the explosion-- stood amongst a heap of charred relics of the supper; while, to insure that such articles of jewellery as had been lost in the terrible struggle should be in safety, sentries were posted, and soon after the barrack yard was cleared of all save those who had special business there. Hours elapsed before the last carriage rolled away with its scared occupants; for in the cases of those who had come from a distance the servants had not been ordered to attend till two and three o'clock. At last, though, there was peace, and the officers of the 205th gathered in the mess-room to partake of a cup of coffee and a cigar before seeking their beds, as, utterly fagged out, they sat for some time talking over the events of the evening. "Well, gentlemen," said the colonel, at last, "I hope you are satisfied with our ball." "Satisfied!" cried the major. "Sir, I should like to court-martial the scoundrel who left that gas escaping!" "Humph! Yes; but not a military offence," said the colonel. "Well, doctor, you've been growing horribly rusty lately; this ought to make you work easily and well!" "Not my style," said the doctor. "Hysterical, frightened women and singed dandies not my class of work! A good respectable gunshot wound, a leg off, or a bayonet probe, if you like; but this sort of thing--bah! Why, if it had not been for our flute-player and Sir Mark Frayne, I should have been nowhere!" "But where's Lacey?" said one of the officers. "Ah, where's Adonis?" cried another. "Poor old chap, he looked more like a chimney-sweep when he was pulled out!" "Yes, it was a narrow squeak for him; but I have not seen him since he came to." "Had a bath and gone to bed," said one of the subalterns; "and I feel as if it would do me good." "He was a bit scorched, one of the town doctors said." "Here, who is waiting?" cried the colonel. One of the servants appeared, with half-washed face, but clean hands, and a moustache burned to a stubble. "Go and see if Lieutenant Lacey's man is there, and send him up to his master's quarters. Let him say that I shall be glad to know how he is; but he is not to be disturbed if he is asleep." "Beg pardon, sir; not asleep." "How do you know?" said the colonel, sharply. "I am Mr Lacey's servant, sir. He went home with two ladies, sir, about two o'clock, sir, and hasn't come back." "Then he can't be very bad!" "Yes, he can!" said a deep voice, and the gentleman in question marched up the room--blackened, with his hair scorched from the side of his head, and one arm in a sling formed of a lady's silk scarf. "I'm horribly bad! For goodness' sake, give me a drink!" Almost as he uttered the words, Jerry handed him a frothing glass of brandy and soda, which he had hurried out to prepare as soon as he saw his master's exhausted state. "Hah!" ejaculated Lacey, as he set down the glass and then sank into an easy-chair. "Your arm bad?" said the colonel, anxiously. Then to the doctor--"Will you see to him?" "Yes, of course," said that gentleman, who was on the alert directly. "Come with me to your room, Lacey, my boy, and let's have a look at you." "Not if I know it!" said the young officer, with an energy that startled his hearers. "I'll prescribe for myself--Rest! Here, who's got a good cigar?" Half a dozen were outstretched directly. "I said _a_ cigar!" growled Lacey. "I haven't got six mouths! Hi, Brigley, a light!" But Jerry had left the room, and matches were offered by the nearest neighbour. "That fellow's always out of the way when I want him!" snarled Lacey, savagely, as he struck a match, which went off with a loud crack, and lit his cigar, at which he began to puff furiously. "Your injuries are paining you, my dear Lacey." "So would yours, if you had them!" cried the young man with a snap; and the colonel smiled. "I don't see where the fun comes in, sir!" growled Lacey, angrily. "I beg your pardon, my dear fellow," cried his chief. "I really sympathise with you, though." "Try another way, sir," said Lacey, looking round with his eyes rolling, and then he sat, smoked, and sipped in silence. "See your ladies home safely?" said the colonel at last. "Oh, yes, sir; I saw them home safely," cried the lieutenant, snatching his cigar from his lips and dashing it into the empty grate. "Colonel, did you ever have an old woman in hysterics on your hands?" "Well, I have had ladies in hysterics on my hands." "But not for an hour and a half! Oh, it was awful, and all the time someone else so ill she could hardly stir. By George, what a scene! I don't care. You fellows sneer at me, and say I don't know anything about women: but I do. Old maids who have hysterics are the most selfish wretches that ever breathed. I couldn't get away." "Of course not," said one of the officers. "That's your fault." "My fault! Why?" "Being so good-looking!" "Good-looking! Ha! ha! ha! Look at me!" cried Lacey, leaping up and surveying his scorched face, and then his blackened uniform and general aspect of having been badly in the wars. "Yes, I look handsome, don't I? I say, though, I thought it was all over with me. I couldn't get free. Who helped me out?" "That plucky little bandsman!" "Not Smithson?" cried the lieutenant. "Yes, Smithson," said the colonel. "God bless him!" cried the lieutenant in a low voice full of emotion. "Amen!" said the colonel. "He saved the lives of that sweet girl--Miss Deane, yours, and then Sir Mark Frayne's." Lacey began to move towards the door; and the doctor rose, gave the colonel a significant nod, and followed. "Going, Lacey?" said the colonel kindly. "Yes, sir. I'm going to see and thank that brave lad." "No, no; not to-night--I mean this morning," said the doctor. For the grey light was stealing in, and making the tall, blackened figure of the lieutenant look ghastly. "Why not?" "Because," said the doctor, "the poor fellow is in such a state that I cannot answer for his life." "Then I'll go and sit by him till he's better!" said the lieutenant, resolutely. The colonel followed him to the door, and laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Lacey, my boy," he half-whispered, "take the doctor's advice and mine-- you are not yourself now." "He saved our lives, sir," said the young officer. "One can't do too much for a man like that." "No, my dear boy, one cannot; but you heard you are better away." Lacey looked at him inquiringly. "You'll oblige me by not going," said the colonel quickly, "and as much by going to your room and letting Lester see to you a bit." "You wish it, colonel?" "I do, Lacey." "Will you come up with me to my quarters, Lester?" said the young man, quietly. "Of course, my dear boy--of course," said the doctor, and they went out together, to be closely followed by Jerry, who reached the staircase first, and sprung up to light candles, though they were hardly necessary then. "Why, colonel, he was like a lamb with you," said the major. "Who'd have thought it of Adonis!" "Yes, he was like a lamb with me, and I always thought it of him," said the colonel, quietly. "We all laugh at and chaff him, but I should not like to be the man who had done him a wrong." "Nor the fellow who had tried to bayonet him when his blood was up?" "No," said the colonel quickly. "Now, gentlemen, bed for me. I don't think this old town will ever forget our ball." He nodded, and left the mess-room, to go across the yard. "Why, that's not the way to his quarters," said one of the officers, as he followed his chief with his eyes toward the shadowy building in which a faint light or two could be seen burning. "No," said another. "I know: he's gone across to the infirmary." "Is Frayne there?" "No," said the major, "he's at Lindon's quarters. Chief's gone to see how little Smithson is. Let's--no, we'll drink his health after dinner this evening. Gentlemen, I'm for bed, or the sun will be up first." Ten minutes later the mess-room looked grey and dismal--a pitiful contrast to its appearance a few hours before, but the sun rose before long as bright and glorious as ever, to come in at the infirmary window upon Dick Smithson's scorched brow, while, in company with the hospital attendant, the fat sergeant sat watching with a careworn expression upon his broad, good-humoured face. "What did he say?" whispered the attendant, after Dick had hurriedly babbled a few words. "Marks," said the sergeant; "Marks--he's thinking about the scars that there'll be upon his face." _ |
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