Beatrice looked up at Captain Webb, who happened to be standing at her
side. Her acquaintance with him dated only from an hour back, but an
uncontrollable irritation made her voice her opinions to him.
"I think all that sort of thing rather overstrained and unnecessary," she
said. "Your chief business is to get the best out of life, and quixotic
people who worry about the means are rather a nuisance, don't you think?"
Captain Webb's bored features lighted up with a faint amusement.
"O, Lor', you mustn't say that sort of thing to me, Miss Cary!" he said in
a subdued aside. "Superior officer, you know! If you want an index to my
feelings, study my countenance." He pretended to smother a gigantic yawn,
and Beatrice's cool, unchecked laughter broke the constraint.
Travers look around with a return of his old good-humor.
"Well," he said, "I have two votes against my plans, but, with due
respect to those two, who are, perhaps, unduly influenced by unfortunate
circumstances, I feel that it is only just that the others should be
given a voice in the matter. Do you agree, Colonel?"
Colonel Carmichael had by this time regained his placid, gentle manner.
"Certainly," he agreed, without hesitation.
"Hands up, then, for letting Rajah Nehal Singh go his way in peace!"
Three hands went up--Colonel Carmichael's, Stafford's and Lois'. Beatrice
glanced at the latter with a smile that expressed what it was meant to
express--a supercilious amusement.
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