The Lamp in the Desert Read online

  THE LAMP IN THE DESERT

  by

  ETHEL M. DELL

  Author of _The Way of an Eagle_, _The Knave of Diamonds_,_The Rocks of Valpre_, _The Swindler, and Other Stories_,_The Keeper of the Door_, _The Bars of Iron_, _The HundredthChance_, _The Safety Curtain, and Other Stories_, _Greatheart_

  1919

  "He knelt beside her, his arms comfortingly around her."]

  Drawn by D.C. Hutchinson

  I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO

  MY DEARLY-LOVED

  ELIZABETH

  AND TO THE MEMORY OF HER GREAT GOODNESS

  WHEN SHE WALKED IN THE

  DESERT WITH ME

  _"He led them all the night through with a light of fire."_

  PSALM lxxviii, 14.

  Lamps that gleam in the city, Lamps that flare on the wall, Lamps that shine on the ways of men, Kindled by men are all.

  But the desert of burnt-out ashes, Which only the lost have trod, Dark and barren and flowerless, Is lit by the Hand of God.

  To lighten the outer darkness, To hasten the halting feet, He lifts a lamp in the desert Like the lamps of men in the street.

  Only the wanderers know it, The lost with those who mourn, That lamp in the desert darkness, And the joy that comes in the dawn.

  That the lost may come into safety, And the mourners may cease to doubt, The Lamp of God will be shining still When the lamps of men go out.

  CHAPTER

  PART I

  I.--BEGGAR'S CHOICE II.--THE PRISONER AT THE BAR III.--THE TRIUMPH IV.--THE BRIDE V.--THE DREAM VI.--THE GARDEN VII.--THE SERPENT IN THE GARDENVIII.--THE FORBIDDEN PARADISE

  PART II

  I.--THE MINISTERING ANGEL II.--THE RETURN III.--THE BARREN SOIL IV.--THE SUMMONS V.--THE MORNING VI.--THE NIGHT-WATCH VII.--SERVICE RENDEREDVIII.--THE TRUCE IX.--THE OASIS X.--THE SURRENDER

  PART III

  I.--BLUEBEARD'S CHAMBER II.--EVIL TIDINGS III.--THE BEAST OF PREY IV.--THE FLAMING SWORD V.--TESSA VI.--THE ARRIVAL VII.--FALSE PRETENCESVIII.--THE WRATH OF THE GODS

  PART IV

  I.--DEVIL'S DICE II.--OUT OF THE DARKNESS III.--BLUEBELL IV.--THE SERPENT IN THE DESERT V.--THE WOMAN'S WAY VI.--THE SURPRISE PARTY VII.--RUSTAM KARINVIII.--PETER IX.--THE CONSUMING FIRE X.--THE DESERT PLACE

  PART V

  I.--GREATER THAN DEATH II.--THE LAMP III.--TESSA'S MOTHER IV.--THE BROAD ROAD V.--THE DARK NIGHT VI.--THE FIRST GLIMMER VII.--THE FIRST VICTIMVIII.--THE FIERY VORTEX IX.--THE DESERT OF ASHES X.--THE ANGEL XI.--THE DAWN XII.--THE BLUE JAY

  PART I

  CHAPTER I

  BEGGAR'S CHOICE

  A great roar of British voices pierced the jewelled curtain of theIndian night. A toast with musical honours was being drunk in thesweltering dining-room of the officers' mess. The enthusiastic hubbubspread far, for every door and window was flung wide. Though the seasonwas yet in its infancy, the heat was intense. Markestan had thereputation in the Indian Army for being one of the hottest corners inthe Empire in more senses than one, and Kurrumpore, the military centre,had not been chosen for any especial advantages of climate. So fewindeed did it possess in the eyes of Europeans that none ever went theresave those whom an inexorable fate compelled. The rickety, woodenbungalows scattered about the cantonment were temporary lodgings, notabiding-places. The women of the community, like migratory birds, dweltin them for barely four months in the year, flitting with the coming ofthe pitiless heat to Bhulwana, their little paradise in the Hills. Butthat was a twenty-four hours' journey away, and the men had to becontent with an occasional week's leave from the depths of theirinferno, unless, as Tommy Denvers put it, they were lucky enough to gosick, in which case their sojourn in paradise was prolonged, much to thedelight of the angels.

  But on that hot night the annual flitting of the angels had not yet cometo pass, and notwithstanding the heat the last dance of the season wasto take place at the Club House. The occasion was an exceptional one, asthe jovial sounds that issued from the officers' mess-house testified.Round after round of cheers followed the noisy toast, filling the nightwith the merry uproar that echoed far and wide. A confusion of voicessucceeded these; and then by degrees the babel died down, and a singlevoice made itself heard. It spoke with easy fluency to the evidentappreciation of its listeners, and when it ceased there came anotherhearty cheer. Then with jokes and careless laughter the little companyof British officers began to disperse. They came forth in lounginggroups on to the steps of the mess-house, the foremost of them--TommyDenvers--holding the arm of his captain, who suffered the familiarity ashe suffered most things, with the utmost indifference. None but Tommyever attempted to get on familiar terms with Everard Monck. He wasessentially a man who stood alone. But the slim, fair-haired youngsubaltern worshipped him openly and with reason. For Monck it was who,grimly resolute, had pulled him through the worst illness he had everknown, accomplishing by sheer force of will what Ralston, the doctor,had failed to accomplish by any other means. And in consequence and forall time the youngest subaltern in the mess had become Monck's devotedadherent.

  They stood together for a moment at the top of the steps while Monck,his dark, lean face wholly unresponsive and inscrutable, took out acigar. The night was a wonderland of deep spaces and glittering stars.Somewhere far away a native _tom-tom_ throbbed like the beating of afevered pulse, quickening spasmodically at intervals and then dying awayagain into mere monotony. The air was scentless, still, and heavy.

  "It's going to be deuced warm," said Tommy.

  "Have a smoke?" said Monck, proffering his case.

  The boy smiled with swift gratification. "Oh, thanks awfully! But it's ashame to hurry over a good cigar, and I promised Stella to go straightback."

  "A promise is a promise," said Monck. "Have it later!" He added rathercurtly, "I'm going your way myself."

  "Good!" said Tommy heartily. "But aren't you going to show at the ClubHouse? Aren't you going to dance?"

  Monck tossed down his lighted match and set his heel on it. "I'm keepingmy dancing for to-morrow," he said. "The best man always has more thanenough of that."

  Tommy made a gloomy sound that was like a groan and began to descend thesteps by his side. They walked several paces along the dim road insilence; then quite suddenly he burst into impulsive speech.

  "I'll tell you what it is, Monck!"

  "I shouldn't," said Monck.

  Tommy checked abruptly, looking at him oddly, uncertainly. "How do youknow what I was going to say?" he demanded.

  "I don't," said Monck.

  "I believe you do," said Tommy, unconvinced.

  Monck blew forth a cloud of smoke and laughed in his brief, rathergrudging way. "You're getting quite clever for a child of your age," heobserved. "But don't overdo it, my son! Don't get precocious!"

  Tommy's hand grasped his arm confidentially. "Monck, if I don't speakout to someone, I shall bust! Surely you don't mind my speaking out toyou!"

  "Not if there's anything to be gained by it," said Monck.

  He ignored the friendly, persuasive hand on his arm, but yet in somefashion Tommy knew that it was not unwelcome. He kept it there as hemade reply.

  "There isn't. Only, you know, old chap, it does a fellow good tounburden himself. And I'm bothered to death about this business."

  "A bit late in the day, isn't it?" suggested Monck.

  "Oh yes, I know; too late to do anything. But," Tommy spoke with force,"the nearer it gets, the worse I feel. I'm downright sick about it, andthat's the truth. How would you feel, I wonder, if you knew your one andonly sister was going to marry a rotter? Would you be satisfied to letthings drift?"

  Monck
was silent for a space. They walked on over the dusty road withthe free swing of the conquering race. One or two 'rickshaws met them asthey went, and a woman's voice called a greeting; but though they bothresponded, it scarcely served as a diversion. The silence between themremained.

  Monck spoke at last, briefly, with grim restraint. "That's rather asweeping assertion of yours. I shouldn't repeat it if I were you."

  "It's true all the same," maintained Tommy. "You know it's true."

  "I know nothing," said Monck. "I've nothing whatever against Dacre."

  "You've nothing in favour of him anyway," growled Tommy.

  "Nothing particular; but I presume your sister has." There was just ahint of irony in the quiet rejoinder.

  Tommy winced. "Stella! Great Scott, no! She doesn't care the toss of ahalfpenny for him. I know that now. She only accepted him because shefound herself in such a beastly anomalous position, with all thespiteful cats of the regiment arrayed against her, treating her like apariah."

  "Did she tell you so?" There was no irony in Monck's tone this time. Itfell short and stern.

  Again Tommy glanced at him as one uncertain. "Not likely," he said.

  "Then why do you make the assertion? What grounds have you for makingthe assertion?" Monck spoke with insistence as one who meant to have ananswer.

  And the boy answered him, albeit shamefacedly. "I really can't say,Monck. I'm the sort of fool that sees things without being able toexplain how. But that Stella has the faintest spark of real love forthat fellow Dacre,--well, I'd take my dying oath that she hasn't."

  "Some women don't go in for that sort of thing," commented Monck dryly.

  "Stella isn't that sort of woman." Hotly came Tommy's defence. "Youdon't know her. She's a lot deeper than I am."

  Monck laughed a little. "Oh, you're deep enough, Tommy. But you'retransparent as well. Now your sister on the other hand is quiteinscrutable. But it is not for us to interfere. She probably knows whatshe is doing--very well indeed."

  "That's just it. Does she know? Isn't she taking a most awful leap inthe dark?" Keen anxiety sounded in Tommy's voice. "It's been suchhorribly quick work, you know. Why, she hasn't been out here six weeks.It's a shame for any girl to marry on such short notice as that. I saidso to her, and she--she laughed and said, 'Oh, that's beggar's choice!Do you think I could enjoy life with your angels in paradise inunmarried bliss? I'd sooner stay down in hell with you.' And she'd havedone it too, Monck. And it would probably have killed her. That's partlyhow I came to know."

  "Haven't the women been decent to her?" Monck's question fell curtly, asif the subject were one which he was reluctant to discuss.

  Tommy looked at him through the starlight. "You know what they are," hesaid bluntly. "They'd hunt anybody if once Lady Harriet gave tongue. Shechose to eye Stella askance from the very outset, and of course all therest followed suit. Mrs. Ralston is the only one in the whole crowd whohas ever treated her decently, but of course she's nobody. Everyone sitson her. As if," he spoke with heat, "Stella weren't as good as the bestof 'em--and better! What right have they to treat her like a socialoutcast just because she came out here to me on her own? It's hateful!It's iniquitous! What else could she have done?"

  "It seems reasonable--from a man's point of view," said Monck.

  "It was reasonable. It was the only thing possible. And just for thatthey chose to turn the cold shoulder on her,--to ostracize herpractically. What had she done to them? What right had they to treat herlike that?" Fierce resentment sounded in Tommy's voice.

  "I'll tell you if you want to know," said Monck abruptly. "It's the lawof the pack to rend an outsider. And your sister will always bethat--married or otherwise. They may fawn upon her later, Dacre beingone to hold his own with women. But they will always hate her in theirhearts. You see, she is beautiful."

  "Is she?" said Tommy in surprise. "Do you know, I never thought ofthat!"

  Monck laughed--a cold, sardonic laugh. "Quite so! You wouldn't! ButDacre has--and a few more of us."

  "Oh, confound Dacre!" Tommy's irritation returned with a rush. "I detestthe man! He behaves as if he were conferring a favour. When he wasmaking that speech to-night, I wanted to fling my glass at him."

  "Ah, but you mustn't do those things." Monck spoke reprovingly. "You maybe young, but you're past the schoolboy stage. Dacre is more of awoman's favourite than a man's, you must remember. If your sister is notin love with him, she is about the only woman in the station who isn't."

  "That's the disgusting part of it," fumed Tommy. "He makes love toevery woman he meets."

  They had reached a shadowy compound that bordered the dusty road for afew yards. A little eddying wind made a mysterious whisper among itsthirsty shrubs. The bungalow it surrounded showed dimly in thestarlight, a wooden structure with a raised verandah and a flight ofsteps leading up to it. A light thrown by a red-shaded lamp shone outfrom one of the rooms, casting a shaft of ruddy brilliance into thenight as though it defied the splendour without. It shone upon Tommy'sface as he paused, showing it troubled and anxious.

  "You may as well come in," he said. "She is sure to be ready. Come inand have a drink!"

  Monck stood still. His dark face was in shadow. He seemed to be debatingsome point with himself.

  Finally, "All right. Just for a minute," he said. "But, look here,Tommy! Don't you let your sister suspect that you've been making aconfidant of me! I don't fancy it would please her. Put on a grin, man!Don't look bowed down with family cares! She is probably quite capableof looking after herself--like the rest of 'em."

  He clapped a careless hand on the lad's shoulder as they turned up thepath together towards the streaming red light.

  "You're a bit of a woman-hater, aren't you?" said Tommy.

  And Monck laughed again his short, rather bitter laugh; but he said noword in answer.