The Keepers of the Kings Peace | Page 7

M'lama, her skirt all awry, her fine hat at a rakish angle,
stepped defiantly.
"Heavens!" said Bones, "she's got away again.... That's my prisoner,
dear old officer!"
Hamilton frowned.
"I hope she hasn't frightened Pat... she was walking in the reservation."
Bones did not faint, his knees went from under him, but he recovered
by clutching the arm of his faithful Ali.

"Dear old friend," he murmured brokenly, "accidents... error of
judgment... the greatest tragedy of my life...."
"What's the matter with you?" demanded Sanders in alarm, for the face
of Bones was ghastly.
Lieutenant Tibbetts made no reply, but walked with unsteady steps to
the lock-up, fumbled with the key and opened the door.
There stepped forth a dishevelled and wrathful girl (she was a little
scared, too, I suspect), the most radiant and lovely figure that had ever
dawned on the horizon of Bones.
She looked from her staggered brother to Sanders, from Sanders to her
miserable custodian.
"What on earth--" began Hamilton.
Then her lips twitched and she fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
"If," said Bones huskily, "if in an excess of zeal I mistook... in the
gloamin', madame... white dress..."
He spread out his arms in a gesture of extravagant despair.
"I can do no more than a gentleman... I have a loaded revolver in my
cabin... farewell!"
He bowed deeply to the girl, saluted his dumbfounded chief, tripped up
over a bucket and would have fallen but for Hamilton's hand.
"You're an ass," said Hamilton, struggling to preserve his sense of
annoyance. "Pat--this is Lieutenant Tibbetts, of whom I have often
written."
The girl looked at Bones, her eyes moist with laughter.
"I guessed it from the first," she said, and Bones writhed.

CHAPTER II
BONES CHANGES HIS RELIGION
CAPTAIN HAMILTON of the King's Houssas had two responsibilities
in life, a sister and a subaltern.
The sister's name was Patricia Agatha, the subaltern had been born
Tibbetts, christened Augustus, and named by Hamilton in his arbitrary
way, "Bones."
Whilst sister and subaltern were separated from one another by some
three thousand miles of ocean--as far, in fact, as the Coast is from
Bradlesham Thorpe in the County of Hampshire--Captain Hamilton
bore his responsibilities without displaying a sense of the burden.
When Patricia Hamilton decided on paying a visit to her brother she did
so with his heartiest approval, for he did not realize that in bringing his
two responsibilities face to face he was not only laying the foundation
of serious trouble, but was actually engaged in erecting the fabric.
Pat Hamilton had come and had been boisterously welcomed by her
brother one white--hot morning, Houssas in undress uniform lining the
beach and gazing solemnly upon Militini's riotous joy. Mr.
Commissioner Sanders, C.M.G., had given her a more formal welcome,
for he was a little scared of women. Bones, as we know, had not been
present--which was unfortunate in more ways than one.
It made matters no easier for the wretched Bones that Miss Hamilton
was an exceedingly lovely lady. Men who lived for a long time in
native lands and see little save beautiful figures displayed without art
and with very little adornment, are apt to regard any white woman with
regular features as pretty, when the vision comes to them after a long
interval spent amidst native people. But it needed neither contrast nor
comparison to induce an admiration for Captain Hamilton's sister.
She was of a certain Celtic type, above the medium height, with the
freedom of carriage and gait which is the peculiar possession of her

countrywomen. Her face was a true oval, and her complexion of that
kind which tans readily but does not freckle.
Eyes and mouth were firm and steadfast; she was made for ready
laughter, yet she was deep enough, and in eyes and mouth alike you
read a tenderness beyond disguise. She had a trinity of admirers: her
brother's admiration was natural and critical; Sanders admired and
feared; Lieutenant Tibbetts admired and resented.
From the moment when Bones strode off after the painful discovery,
had slammed the door of his hut and had steadfastly declined all
manner of food and sustenance, he had voluntarily cut himself off from
his kind.
He met Hamilton on parade the following morning, hollow--eyed (as
he hoped) after a sleepless night, and there was nothing in his attitude
suggestive of the deepest respect and the profoundest regard for that
paragraph of King's Regulations which imposes upon the junior officer
a becoming attitude of humility in the presence of his superior officer.
"How is your head, Bones?" asked Hamilton, after the parade had been
dismissed.
"Thank you, sir," said Bones bitterly--though why he should be bitter at
the kindly inquiry only he knew--" thank you sir, it is about the same.
My temperature